by Jan Delima
A dull ache began to form around his joints and limbs as his inner wolf growled, sensing danger or, more likely, the residual of misused power.
Focusing on his objective, he gained access through the concealed tunnel, wary once again that Rosa had shared this weakness of her home. Not for the first time, he questioned what Math’s wife was about, what her demands would be for freeing Sophie, and how she had known of the gathering. He suspected one of the leaders had leaked her information, but did not discount the possibility of a spy among his people. Either way, he wasn’t pleased and would uncover the traitor.
The air inside the castle reeked of mildew and discontent. Guards in street clothes walked the halls, eyes heavy and easily distracted, faithless and uncaring of their master’s safety. Complacent.
Only a single woman noticed his approach, cleaning before dawn, pausing as she swept below the staircase. She wore modern clothes but watched him with the eyes of a slave, hooded yet sharp. She had survived a fire or something worse, unable, he assumed, to shift and heal afterward. Scars ran along her face and neck. Her hair grew in clumps, exposing bare patches of scalp with knotted flesh over destroyed follicles. She quickly looked away, too broken to shout an alarm, or too afraid of being the bringer of bad news.
Inwardly, Dylan sneered at the very idea of keeping slaves, the Hen Was, descendants of their kind who couldn’t shift, as vile in modern day as in medieval Cymru.
The bedchambers were easy to find. Sounds, sexual and aggressive, came from a door at the end of a long corridor.
“It’s locked,” a feminine voice whispered.
He turned to see the slave lurking in the shadows, having followed him in silence and without detection. His initial assessment of this woman immediately changed. If she was going to raise an alarm, she would have done so by now. Yet, if her spirit was broken, she wouldn’t have followed.
He shrugged. This was a minor obstacle for what he’d come to do. “A single slave and a locked door won’t hold me.”
“You are Dylan ap Merin.”
“Yes.”
A curious glint sharpened her glare. “I see death in your eyes, warrior, but also honor. Is it Math you’ve come to claim, or our Rosa?”
“Math.” Denial, he sensed, would only delay his intent.
A contorted smile turned the unscarred side of her mouth. “Then you are correct . . . this single slave and a locked door won’t keep you from your task. But I will have your word you’ll not harm our mistress.”
“Or what?” he challenged.
“For what,” she corrected, holding up a stainless steel key, an oddity amongst a manufactured illusion of medieval grandeur. “Take who you’ve come for, warrior, and leave the others be.”
“Agreed,” he said, and accepted the key as the slave hurried away. The lock was new and well-oiled, turning without detectable sound, even to his ears. The visitors to this room came often and were not meant to be heard.
Dylan slid into the chamber, not overly surprised by what he found. With Rhun now gone, Math was one of the eleven remaining Original Guardians; old when he’d been gifted by the Goddess and even older now, with a rumored preference for beautiful men.
Those rumors were correct, it seemed, since it was a young man, and not Rosa, who was being thoroughly and joyfully buggered by Math.
The young man, thin and elegant, was bent over the back of a chaise longue, his eyes squeezed shut and his head thrown back in openmouthed pleasure. Math knelt at the foot of the chaise, gripping his lover’s long red hair like reins, his eyes glazed and unfocused in feral joy, pounding, bare-assed, pasty and wrinkled and unaware.
Without remorse, Dylan used their distraction to his advantage. Walking silently behind Math, he raised his sword, balanced his weight, and swung.
“For my wife,” he said as the Guardian’s head toppled to the side and his body remained suspended until his lover fell forward, tangled in hysteric disbelief.
With a gurgle of horror, the man scrambled to the floor, wide-eyed and knees drawn, trying to hedge backward like a spider without its web. He opened his mouth, chest rising with frantic breaths.
Dylan pressed the bloodied sword to his throat. “Make one noise to alert the guards and you will die.” The man swallowed his scream. “Give the Guardians a message. I am Dylan ap Merin, leader of the Katahdin territory. Whoever comes to my territory with ill intent . . . will die. Whoever brings danger to my family . . . will die.”
Dylan left without further incident. The lover did not scream nor did the slave hinder his departure. He arrived back at Rhuddin Village around seven in the morning, with his wife still abed. He settled in next to her, molding her soft body against his chest, and placed a kiss on her exposed shoulder.
She sighed, half awake, snuggling into his warmth. “Where have you been?”
“Fulfilling a promise,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep, my love.”
Thirty-one
THREE DAYS LATER, ON THE FIRST CLOUDLESS MORNING since the gathering, Dylan stood next to his wife and son as Francine’s casket was lowered into the ground next to her husband’s. Dylan shook his head with reverence, wondering if the woman had convinced her angels to harness the sun to shine down upon her own service.
Luc had remained at home, as did most of the other guards, but Enid, Porter, and the parents of the children from the village had traveled to Massachusetts, Sophie’s place of birth.
The minister had long since said his blessing and left. With Sophie’s permission, some of his people dropped treasures next to the grave for Francine to bring to her afterlife. Enid gave a golden spoon, placing it gently in the roses that covered the casket, with a blessing for Francine to “Wield it well.” That spoon, Dylan knew, had been the only treasure Enid had carried from Cymru.
“I’m going to wait in the truck,” Joshua said after the others had returned to their cars for the journey home, leaving his parents alone.
“Okay.” Sophie squeezed his hand as he passed. “We’ll only stay a few more minutes.”
Shaking with what he was about to do, Dylan wrapped his arms around his wife and kissed the top of her head. “Taliesin came to see me this morning.”
“He did?” He heard the frown in her voice. “What did he want?”
“Your forgiveness, I think.”
“Then it’s me he should be visiting, not you.”
“He’s here, Sophie.”
Her head shot up, scanning the cemetery, stopping when she found the lone figure in the distance. “Has he been here this whole time?”
“Yes.” Dylan briefly closed his eyes, unable to watch her face when he made the most difficult offer of his life. “Taliesin has agreed to reopen his home where you and Joshua once lived.”
“For what?”
“For you.” His throat thickened, choking on the words, not sure if he could finish this but knowing he must. “And Joshua, if he wants to go. Taliesin has agreed to stay with you, to continue Joshua’s training. If you wish, you can leave with him now.”
“And where will you be?”
“Rhuddin Village.”
“What is this about?”
“It’s a choice, Sophie. A choice to leave now before the Council decides our fate.” Opening his eyes, he waved his hand toward her mother’s grave. “This is only the beginning. One of four lives we’ve lost. Others will follow.”
Understanding hardened her features, like snow over a mountain, insurmountable to the weak of heart. But he wasn’t weak, and neither was she. “And you would do this? You would allow me to leave?”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “If it will keep you alive, Sophie, I will do more than you know.”
She wiped at her eyes as fresh tears began to fall. Amazing, really, that she had any left when she’d shed enough over the last few days to fill a river in autumn, enough that his heart had bled a bit with every single one, drop for drop.
Darkness closed around him. “I’ll do my best to s
tay away from you—”
“Stop.” A watery smile turned her lips. “Please, just stop this right now! Thank you, Dylan, for giving me the choice.” She lifted her hands and cupped his face. “Do you want to know something my mother said to me a few days before she died?”
He didn’t respond, not sure that he did.
She continued anyway. “Mum told me she’d rather live her life to the fullest, around the people she loved, than fear the unknown alone.”
He frowned. “What are you saying?”
“It’s not the Council who’s going to decide our fate. It’s us, our family, and our people. Together we will decide our fate, while we live our lives around the people we love most. And for me, Dylan, that’s you. I choose you.”
Robbed of breath, he kissed her because he could do nothing else. “I won’t ask you again,” he warned against her mouth. It was a long while before he lifted his head, shaking with emotion in a bloody graveyard no less, with a demi-god pouting in the distance.
“So,” she said, resting her face against his chest, “did our son put you up to this?”
He smiled against her hair. “He told me you wouldn’t agree to it.”
“That little shit.” Then she laughed her first genuine laugh in three days. “Did that make it any easier for you?”
“Maybe a little,” he said, though serious. “But I’ve learned not to predict how your mind works, wife. I would have honored your choice. Well,” he amended, “I would have tried to the best of my ability.”
And to prove that he may never know how her mind worked, she stood on her toes and planted another kiss on his lips. “Will you marry me again?” she asked softly. “With a minister this time. I want our family there as well. Invite the whole town if you wish.” She reflected quietly for a moment. “My mum would have wanted that.”
His throat tightened. He had to swallow twice before he found his voice. “Is today too soon?”
The End and the Beginning
TALIESIN WAITED IN A SHADED GLEN FOR SOPHIE AND Dylan to make their way toward him. He looked out at all the grave markers, aisles of marble and granite honoring their beloved deceased souls. They were at peace, he knew with envy, in the home of their God. Peace was something he would never know, just as heaven was a place he would never see.
With a final glance toward Francine’s grave, Sophie and Dylan made their way in Taliesin’s direction, hand in hand, joined in heart and in purpose, a marriage made whole by his intervention.
Taliesin heard Dylan ask, “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“I’m sure.” Sophie stopped a few feet away, her eyes direct and searching. “Hello, Matthew. I wish you had joined us for the service.”
Suddenly nervous, despite knowing the outcome of this day, he kicked at a clump of grass, his gaze looking to the ground. “My name is Taliesin,” he said.
“I know. My husband has told me everything about you. Is that what you want me to call you?”
“My friends call me Sin,” he offered.
“Are you my friend?”
“Yes.” He made sure his tone carried the weight of that curse.
“Will you tell me something, Sin?”
He sighed with regret. “Of course, Sophie, but you already know the answer.”
“Why did you give me the Serpent?”
“Because it wasn’t Francine who was supposed to die.” Whenever he changed the course of a human’s fate, another always took their place.
“Was it supposed to be me?” Her voice was heavy with guilt at the thought.
“No.”
A whisper of acceptance. “Joshua.”
He remained silent.
Gently, Sophie placed her hand on his arm. “Do you have a place to stay?”
He shrugged. “I have many homes, Sophie.”
“Will you be alone in these many homes?” she asked, ever observant as only someone with a pure heart could be.
“I’m used to being alone.”
She pursed her lips at her husband’s snort. “I want you to stay with us.”
To his shame, because his heart rejoiced in the warmth of her embrace, of family and forgiveness, he was tempted to accept her offer. Shaking his head, he whispered, “I shouldn’t.”
“No, you shouldn’t,” Dylan agreed, but then his eyes met his wife’s. After a small wordless argument, his shoulders sagged in weary acceptance. “If it will make my wife happy . . . you are welcome to stay with us. Our lake house is available.”
And so will Luc’s apartments soon be, when Rosa comes to claim Dylan’s debt owed to her for helping Sophie, but Taliesin kept that foresight to himself.
“I’ve never seen greater courage, warrior, than I’ve seen from you this day. I will consider your offer.”
“A war has begun,” Dylan said with firm censure. “A war between the very creatures created to protect you. One of these days you will have to choose a side.”
“Ah, Dylan.” Taliesin shook his head, using the warrior’s given name as an acceptance of friendship. “Don’t you realize . . . I’ve already chosen a side. And the side I’ve chosen is yours.”
The warrior winced, because, unlike his wife, Dylan understood the danger that Taliesin’s friendship carried.
= Character = Term
ANNWFN; OTHERWORLD
Homeland of the Welsh Celtic deities, similar to sídh of Irish mythology, where the Tuatha Dé Danann reside, the land of faery and magical beings.
BEDDESTYR; WALKER
Once messengers to Ceridwen in the Otherworld; four known Walkers still exist, all have lost their power to walk between worlds.
BELTANE; MAY DAY
A Celtic holiday to celebrate the beginning of summer. Ancient Celts believed that the barrier between our world and the Otherworld opened this day and that the Gods visited to bestow fertility blessings.
BLEIDD; WOLF
A Guardian descendant born or trapped in wolf form who cannot change to human; human intelligence exists within the wolf.
CERIDWEN; CELTIC GODDESS
Welsh Celtic goddess, worshiped by ancient Celts as the great sow goddess; though less recognized, Ceridwen was also revered as the goddess of wolves; known to brew potions of transformation and knowledge; master of animal transformation; birth mother of Taliesin.
CERNUNNOS; CELTIC GOD
Welsh Celtic Lord of Animals; worshiped by ancient Celts as the Great Hunter; commonly depicted in Celtic artifacts with horned animals, such as the horned snake of Celtic tradition, and the stag; honored by ancient Celts as the leader of the Wild Hunt where spirits of the dead were carried to the Otherworld.
CORMACK
Brother of Siân and Taran; close friend of Elen; born in wolf form without the ability to transform to human; human intelligence exists within the wolf.
COUNCIL OF CERIDWEN; GOVERNING ASSEMBLY OF ORIGINAL GUARDIANS
A self-proclaimed governing body compiled by the twelve surviving Original Guardians.
CYMRU; WALES
Homeland of the Original Guardians.
DARON
Leader of the Ontario territory; views the Original Guardians with disdain.
DEWISEDIG; CHOSEN HUMAN
A human mate of a Guardian or Guardian descendant whose offspring can transform into a wolf.
DRWGDDYDDWG; EVIL BRINGER
A derogatory description of Guardian descendants born in human form without the ability to transform into a wolf. The name was created by Original Guardians, fearful of their loss of power.
DRYSTAN
Leader of the Blue Ridge Highland territory of Virginia; views the Original Guardians with disdain.
DYLAN (AD 329–)
The alpha wolf and leader of the Katahdin territory; husband and mate of Sophie; father of Joshua; eldest brother of Luc and Elen; son of Merin.
ELEN (AD 331–)
The healer of the Katahdin territory; sister of Dylan and Luc; daughter of Merin; cannot shift into a wolf but can
manipulate nature.
ENID
Mother of Sulwen and Lydia; housekeeper of Rhuddin Hall; taught Dylan how to care for Luc, who was born in wolf form.
FRANCINE
Mother of Sophie; human.
GICI NIWASKW; GREAT SPIRIT
The deity of the Abanaki people, the natives of the Katahdin region.
GWARCHODWYR; GUARDIAN
Descendants of Original Guardians who follow the command of the Council of Ceridwen.
GWARCHODWYR UNFED; GUARDIAN, FIRST IN ORDER; THE ORIGINALS
An Original Celtic warrior appointed by Ceridwen to protect her son Taliesin; taught how to draw energy from the earth to transform into wolves; served Taliesin as a child; age at a very slow rate. The oldest surviving Original Guardian was born 95 BC. There were forty-eight Original Guardians; only twelve remain to form the Council of Ceridwen.
HEN WAS; OLD SERVANT
Slaves to the Original Guardians and the Council; Guardian descendants born without the ability to transform into a wolf; age at the same slow rate of an Original Guardian.
ISABEAU
Leader of the forest region of Minnesota; family was tortured and killed in the house of Rhun while serving the Original Guardians.
JOSHUA (AD 1995–)
Son of Dylan and Sophie; the first shifter born in over 300 years.
KALEM
Leader of Alaskan territory; views the Original Guardians with disdain.
