by Petra Landon
She shot a look at David Hamilton, still reeling from what had been disclosed about the past and the present. “Unlike the Wizards, the First Ones do not put much faith in prophecies. If your most compelling argument against her is a prophecy, they will not bestir themselves” she contended.
DiZeyla’s gaze swept towards the Alpha who stood by the mantel.
“If she shows herself, and it sounds like she will sooner than later, the First Ones will insist she be punished for her past actions. But they will not lift a finger to oppose her ambitions” the Ancient asserted bluntly.
Raoul, who had half-expected it, reflected on her candid advice. Roman Durovic was a familiar name to most First Ones. One day, he would also hold a lot of power in their world. But DiZeyla understood the Ancients better and he trusted her judgement. If she said their evidence was thin, he believed it. But as her words played in his head, something about them struck him — an astonishing contradiction.
“If the Ancients do not believe in prophecies, DiZeyla, why did they agree to the Council?” he asked.
It was common knowledge that the First Ones had never been keen to have a representative body like the Council of Chosen. The CoC’s greatest advocate had worked tirelessly to convince the First Ones for more than two decades before they acquiesced to its birth. Their respect for Faoladh had eventually tipped the balance for the Ancients. But every Magick was aware of the history — after holding out for a very long time, the First Ones and the Wizards had come on board only after a prophecy had decreed the existence of an august body with all factions represented.
DiZeyla smiled. “Faoladh, as you know, is very astute, Raoul. It took him some time, but eventually, he hit upon the strategy that he knew would sway us. The First Ones might not lay much store in prophesies, but they hold fast to the old legends handed down by the Forebearers.”
Tasia, whose father’s legacy was a thorough grounding in Chosen history, however obscure it be, was intrigued and astonished in equal measure. She was not the only one. The Pack Room audience’s curiosity was palpable. Tasia’s eyes wandered to the other First Ones in the room. Roman looked like a light bulb had gone off in his head while Nandini appeared confused.
“Old legends” the Alpha murmured, just as an astounded Duncan exclaimed, “Arza’Gor, DiZeyla?”
Tasia’s eyes widened. Arza’Gor was the birthplace of the Forebearers. Legend said that Arza’Gor had created the first Chosen, sending them out to live and flourish amongst the Si’ffa. It was also where the Forebearers were believed to have hidden the artifacts necessary to create a second wave of Chosen, if the first was ever extinguished by their environment, circumstances or the humans. But what did the birthplace of the Chosen have to do with the CoC, she wondered bemusedly.
“Not Arza’Gor, Duncan” Atsá chimed in, before the Ancient leader could. “DiZeyla refers to another, a more obscure, legend.”
DiZeyla was taken aback by the remark. As far as she was aware, this was guarded closely by both the First Ones and Faoladh. “You know of this, Atsá?”
The Were-Alpha shook his head. “I do not, DiZeyla. But when you hint that Faoladh relied on the Forebearers’ legacy to impress upon the Ancients that the Council is critical to securing our future, there is only one legend that comes to mind.”
David Hamilton roused himself from his dark forebodings to contribute to the conversation. “The legend of the Griffin.”
“Atsá and David are correct” DiZeyla professed.
The Shifters straightened and Nandini blinked.
Hawk asked the obvious question. “What does the legend have to do with the Council? Isn’t the Griffin believed to possess the combined powers from all Chosen — the embodiment of the perfect Magick? And thus, meant to unite us all by bridging the divide between the factions.”
“Legend says the Griffin will have the best of every Chosen faction in him” Nandini affirmed. “The Chosen every Magick aspires to be.”
“The Forebearers contended that a Griffin would rise to unify us if the Chosen ever faced the threat of annihilation” David Hamilton attested, attempting to shove his worries away for a little while.
As the Chosen faction that looked up to the Ancients and tried to emulate them the most, the Wizards knew all about what the First Ones held sacred. But Tasia, glancing around the room, realized that she had underestimated the Shifters. They might not be aware of the finer details, but they were not oblivious to the legends of the Forebearers. Like the mythical creature from Si’ffa belief, the Griffin in Chosen legend was strong, courageous, bold and would challenge the powerful monsters among the Magicks.
“Those in the know claim Faoladh convinced the First Ones that this particular legend was not meant to be taken literally” DiZeyla offered up the information tactfully, like a diplomat watching every word, her eyes tangling with the Alpha’s. He’d come to her for advice on mounting a successful campaign to convince her brethren. And DiZeyla was hinting at Ancient secrets as a favor to Raoul. “Faoladh persuaded them that the Griffin is a metaphor for the Council, a body to represent the best of all Chosen with ties to every faction.”
“The heart of a Wyr, the blood of a First One and the magic of a Wizard” Roman muttered, half under his breath.
But the Shifters in the room heard him just fine.
“Is that what the legend says?” Luis Beltran inquired in his mellifluous accent.
Roman nodded. “Only a handful of such legends were handed down, Luis. And the First Ones take them very seriously.”
“What role is the Griffin meant to play?” a curious Hawk asked, his eyes pinging between the three Ancients in the room. Like the other Shifters, he was aware of the gist but not the small print.
Roman glanced at Nandini, a subtle challenge in his eyes. Her lips tightened, the only sign of her displeasure, before she chanted the words she’d learned a long time ago but never forgotten.
“When darkness beckons the Chosen in a wave too strong to resist, a Griffin will rise. With the heart of a Wyr, the blood of a First One and the magic of a Wizard, the Griffin will show the way forward, so we may live to fight another day.”
As the Shifters digested this, Atsá expounded on the legend with an interesting tidbit. “The Ancients believe that there might be more than one Griffin in the course of our history.”
“The Forebearers promise us that as long as there are Chosen, Griffins will rise to remind us that we live a perilous existence and need each other to survive and flourish” DiZeyla seconded the Navajo Wyr. “And to nudge us that our differences are minor compared to what threatens us.”
The door rattled in warning before a young Shifter peeked in, his eyes searching the gathered Chosen.
“The Guardian is here, Alpha” he said.
Raoul gestured for the Wizard to be allowed in. Despite LaRue working with them and taking up residence in the Lair, to the Shifters, Jason would always be the Guardian.
Tasia’s eyes shot to the door as Jason LaRue strode in. Excitement swirled through her. Sienna and he had been closeted with Guardian Bergdahl in their new supplementary Pack Room downstairs. At long last, they were to discover the Oracle’s depiction of the future predicted by his final prophecy — the records they’d been chasing for months.
As the silent anticipation in the room reached fever pitch, the Alpha merely arched an eyebrow at the Guardian.
Jason grinned, a triumphant smile that lit up his good-looking face. “We have lift off, Houston.”
“About time” the Alpha retorted. “What does the Oracle say?”
“Trev made us a copy. It’s only half a page, but Sienna is optimistic that careful study will reveal details.”
“Where’s Sienna?” Hawk interjected.
“Downstairs” Jason answered him, before addressing the Alpha. “Trev wants a word. I said I’d check with you.”
Raoul’s brows drew together. “With me?” He’d steered clear of the Guardian at Duncan’s, reluctant to ina
dvertently put a spanner in the works. Raoul Merceau was a name guaranteed to bring a grimace to Guardian faces, if not outright rage.
“Yes” Jason confirmed.
Raoul didn’t take long to make up his mind. He had nothing against Trevor Bergdahl, a friend to both Sienna and Jason. Plus, the Guardian had kept his promise to Sienna, despite the ruckus at Wizard Headquarters.
Downstairs, in the tiny, converted conference room, they found Bergdahl chatting with Sienna. The Guardian sprawled in a chair, a big grin on his face, listening appreciatively to Sienna, who semi-perched on the table before him. As the two men entered the room to close the door behind them, Trevor’s grin vanished to be replaced by watchfulness. Jason plopped himself into a chair but the Alpha remained standing, his back to the door. Sienna directed a warm smile at the Shifter that had his impassive expression easing subtly. Trevor’s eyes flickered as he caught it. It seemed to ease some of his wariness.
“Alpha” he greeted the Wyr.
“Guardian” the Shifter acknowledged him.
Trevor glanced around the room. “There’s something you should know. Sebastian Thorne knows I’m here.”
Jason, who knew his friend better than anyone in the room, remarked. “You told him, Trev?”
Bergdahl nodded. “I told him that I’d promised Sienna the Seer’s interpretation. And that I didn’t see any reason to withhold it.”
“He knows the Shifters have access to it” Sienna murmured. After the incident in San Diego, there was little ambiguity about where she stood. With an array of Guardians as witness, she had backed Raoul Merceau at Wizard Headquarters.
“He does” Trevor acknowledged, shooting a glance at his old friend. Thorne had been his mentor since his Academy days, something Jason knew very well. “Seb didn’t try to stop me, Sienna. But he did ask me to put in a word for him with the Alpha.”
“What word?” Raoul asked.
“He’s been trying to meet Faoladh, with little luck.”
Arctic gold eyes pinned Bergdahl to his seat. “If the Guardians think I’m Faoladh’s secretary, I’ll disabuse them of the notion.”
Though the remark had been delivered dispassionately, Bergdahl sat up. This particular Wyr Lord was capable of playing beast and host with equal gusto. As he had demonstrated in San Diego.
“If you put in a word, Faoladh will grant Seb a few minutes of his time” Bergdahl said to the Alpha.
“Not Faoladh’s keeper either” Raoul retorted. “You have strange ideas about us Shifters, Guardian.”
“I was present when you ransacked Headquarters, Alpha” Bergdahl said quietly. They’d witnessed Merceau in action, as well as the long leash Faoladh was inclined to give the Alpha. “Seb knows Faoladh will not say no to you.”
Trevor met the Alpha’s gaze squarely as silence descended on the room.
Raoul could sense Sienna silently willing him to grant her friend his wish. Bergdahl was not wrong — Faoladh would award Thorne an audience if he requested it. But Raoul was disinclined to do any favors for the Guardians. Thus, he made sure to keep his gaze away from Sienna’s beseeching eyes.
“Sounds like Thorne wants a favor from me, Guardian” he remarked.
“Yes” Trevor admitted, without beating around the bush.
“Then, he should man up and ask me, instead of sending you to do it” the Alpha said coldly.
Trevor smiled, the first one since the Alpha had entered the room. “If I know Seb, he will. But when I informed him that I was invited to your Lair, he did not want to pass up the opportunity.”
The gold eyes studied Bergdahl. Until a movement from LaRue had him shooting the Wizard a glance.
“What?” he asked, his expression forbidding.
Jason raised his hands in an exaggerated gesture that professed his innocence. “Nothing.” He paused. “But since you’re asking.”
“I wasn’t” retorted the Alpha.
LaRue ignored him, to remark languidly. “Wanted to remind you that Trev’s an old friend.”
“You know, just in case it slipped your mind” Jason added irrepressibly, as the Alpha narrowed his eyes at him.
Raoul cocked his head. “I don’t do favors for Wizards, least of all Guardians, LaRue” he said. “You should know that by now.”
“Perhaps, you should have Trev remind you of my reputation, just in case it slipped your mind, LaRue” he pointed out sardonically.
“Up yours, Merceau” Jason said good-naturedly, flashing the Shifter a grin.
Raoul’s lips quirked. This time, he allowed himself a glance at Sienna, only to grimace silently. Bergdahl had done the Pack a favor, he reminded himself, even if it was Sienna doing the asking.
Watching the byplay, his eyes pinging between the protagonists, Trevor felt himself relax. He’d known Jason for most of his life and understood his friend very well. When Jason had walked into Wizard Headquarters to face down his Guardian comrades for the Shifters, Trevor believed that he understood the situation. The Guardians whispered that Faoladh and the First Wizard had an agreement, though no one had a clue what it was about. At Lady Esmeralda’s directive, Jason was working with the Shifters to further the Wizards’ cause. But co-operating on matters of common interest was a far cry from going up so publicly against the GCW — no matter what Jason thought privately, he was a Guardian and would never publicly question his colleagues. Thus, Trevor had concluded that Jason’s willingness to stand beside the Alpha, even in a confrontation with the Guardians, meant that his friend trusted Raoul Merceau. At least, when it came to doing right by the First Wizard. This was what had convinced Trevor to reach out to Sienna. He’d known that Jason’s actions at Headquarters had doomed any further co-operation from his fellow Guardians. So, he’d tried to help by going through Sienna, since assisting his friend was now a complicated proposition. What they had ignored before, the Guardians could no longer look past after Jason had stood by while the Shifters sacked the glass and steel seat of power the Wizards were mighty proud of. For all their vaunted magic, the GCW had been exposed — the Shifters had demonstrated that one enraged Alpha was all it took to bring down everything the Guardians had painstakingly built. Or, at least, when that Alpha was Raoul Merceau, Trevor amended silently.
“I won’t lobby Faoladh to meet your friend” Raoul directed at Trevor Bergdahl. “But I will let him know that the Guardian who gave us The Prophecy records has requested an audience for Thorne.”
Satisfied with the answer, Trevor thanked him. Sienna’s affection for the Alpha was obvious. The way she talked about him and her ease with the other Shifters made it clear that Sienna was comfortable with the Pack. But today’s meeting had made something else evident to Trevor. Jason’s alliance with the Shifters went deeper. Much deeper than he’d guessed. He had misread Jason’s motivations for his stand at Headquarters. Observing him with the Alpha made it clear that Jason not only trusted Merceau, but also respected him. Even liked the Shifter. This astonished Trevor but also calmed his wary heart. Jason was a straight arrow and the best judge of character he knew. If Jason LaRue liked and respected Raoul Merceau, then Trevor would speak more openly before the Alpha, even when it came to matters that pertained to the GCW.
“Any idea what Seb wants to talk to Faoladh about?” Jason asked his friend.
Trevor flicked a glance at the Alpha who was watching him, before answering his friend. “Something’s brewing. Closed door meetings and rampant whispers in the corridors point to it.”
A line punctured the area between Jason’s brows.
“It started when ElThor’s representative came to San Diego two weeks ago” Trevor explained.
Jason sat up straighter as his friend’s eyes tangled with his.
“He met with senior Guardians behind closed doors” Bergdahl said. “From what I’ve heard about it, he gave them an earful without even the veneer of diplomacy. ElThor is very displeased about what went down at Headquarters.”
“The GCW had it coming” Sienna at
tested vehemently. “What they allowed that Guardian to get away with is unconscionable.”
Trevor sent her a half-smile. “I don’t disagree, Sienna.”
Raoul said nothing. Durovic had hinted that ElThor was simmering, but he’d been unaware of the spanking the Guardians had been subjected to.
“Maybe, this is the kick the Guardians need, Trev” Jason remarked, the hope in his heart burgeoning again. ElThor’s displeasure would never be taken lightly by any Wizard. “They might finally be ready to mend fences with the First Wizard.”
Trevor took a breath, readying to deliver bad news. “If I had to guess, I don’t think mending fences is on the agenda” he said slowly.
“What do you mean?”
“The GCW is preparing to call for a full assembly session. You should receive your invitation soon.”
“A full assembly” Jason repeated. All active Guardians called in to a session was a very rare occasion. “What’s the agenda?”
“Whether to call a new election for First Wizard.”
Sienna went pale and Jason blanched.
“Can the Guardians do that?” Sienna asked the man who’d given her the news.
It was Jason who answered her, almost absent-mindedly. “It’s been twenty-five years, Sienna. Based on the agreement the GCW made with Faoladh, they’re well within their rights to call for a new election.”
Trevor turned to her. “The Guardians are entitled to elect one of their own to represent the Wizards on the Council. Lady Esmeralda may stand again for the position, but she does not have much support within the Guardian rank and file” he said gently, aware of Sienna’s affection for her aunt.
Hawk marched into the Pack Room, a man on a mission. It was late afternoon and Shifters congregated in the room, but he ignored the others to zero in on Tasia. They had a half hour before the team was scheduled to go over what they’d been waiting eagerly for since the start of the investigation — the Seer’s interpretation of The Prophecy.
“The supplementary Pack Room is free” he said to Tasia.
Tasia took the hint. She followed Hawk down to the newly-converted Pack Room on the first floor. Seating herself, she waited patiently for him to share what was on his mind. A week ago, she’d been keen to avoid any tête-à-tête with Hawk, wary of the questions her perceptive friend might ask. But after the party at Duncan’s, she was confident that Hawk’s desire to chat had nothing to do with her current quandary.
