Caledonia Destiny

by Lexi Ander

  Together with Fordel, Avory raised his muzzle and roared with great joy. Avory changed form, becoming human, and fell upon Fordel’s neck, pressing his face into his soft fur. Avory’s whole body trembled, chest and throat tight as he fought the burning in his eyes.

  Fordel finally changed his skin for the first time in many, many ages.

  Avory drew back and looked upon the visage that was once Roi, but was no longer. Instead of Roi’s startling blue eyes, golden brown stared at Avory.

  “I never thought you would bargain with the Mórrígan for a body,” Fordel said softly. It was Roi’s voice. Of a sudden Avory heart hurt for the human. If there had been but another way…

  “You be my brother, my twin. I found my solitary life in the forest unbearable without you by my side. It be time for you to come home.” Avory wiped the tears from his cheeks and gave in to the need of this body to rejoice… and to mourn. Holding his brother close, Avory cried until no more tears would come.

  The shuffling of feet pulled Avory back to himself. There, standing in a circle around them, were a score of the most fiercesome men Avory had ever seen. Tall, taller than the Norsemen, with earth-hued skin and long, waist-length ebony hair, they wore buckskins adorned with brightly coloured beads and pebbles. Their square, frowning faces stared down at Avory and Fordel. Behind them sat wolves of a size so large they rivalled Avory’s mathan form in height.

  Protected amongst them like a precious treasure stood a lynx. When she walked towards Avory, they hindered her not, instead moving in a shielding fashion. In mid-motion, she cruth-atharrachadh to a woman of small stature, fair of skin, not nude as Fordel and Avory were after their change, but clothed in buckskins like the men. Her dark gaze was hard and assessing as she stared at Fordel’s visage.

  Halting a couple of feet away she said, “Do ye know who I am, Guardian?”

  A troubled expression crossed Fordel’s expression. “Nay.”

  At his answer, the woman frowned, the lines of age deepening upon her brow. She lifted her chin and her gaze turned sharp and deadly. “I be Ebba, mother to Roi. Ye shall explain to me what ye have done to my son!”

  XXX

  WHEN EWEN WOKE, he stared at the ceiling of his bedchamber, the agony of afore no longer crippling but rather tameable. When he looked down to where the knot had been upon his chest, he found it truly gone, the skin smooth and unbroken. Rolling to the edge of the bed made the pain in his limbs known, causing a groan to pass his lips. But regardless of how he felt, he needed to find Roi.

  Rising from the mattress, Ewen fondly recalled Roi complaining of its softness. He dressed slowly, moving as if he were an agèd man of many years rather than one yet to meet his prime. Leaving the bedchamber by the hidden doorway to the small dining hall, Ewen shuffled across the floor to the door leading into the great hall. The sound of raised voices met his ears well afore he wrenched the door open.

  His kin filled the hall, standing along the wall two to three people deep, all eyes upon the spectacle playing out in the centre of the room. Donn stood next to Avory, his gaze moving between a strange woman and Roi.

  Ewen’s heart leapt with joy at the sight of Roi whole and hale and back at home. As Ewen made his slow way to Roi, he swept his gaze over the dark warriors who, going by their manner of dress, seemingly belonged with the woman. As he closed in upon them, Ewen caught their scent. She was the lynx he had scented days afore. But who and what she was explained nothing of the quarrel betwixt her and Roi.

  The woman’s hands moved rapidly as she spoke, as if she conversed with her hands as well as words. “Release him, Guardian, or ye be no better than the warloghe who ensorcelled ye.”

  “I be naught like he!” Roi spat. There was something not quite…

  “Roi?” Worried now, Ewen hastened his steps, moving as fast as his battered body allowed. His call drew both the woman’s and Roi’s eyes.

  “And what would ye tell him?” she challenged, her finger pointing at Ewen, though her words seemed to be meant for Roi. “The only one to adore my son, how be ye going to explain to him that ye killed Roi with yer selfishness?”

  Roi growled at the woman, and the dark warriors placed their hands upon the long knives at their belts. Of what weirdness did she speak? How could Roi be dead if he stood in Ewen’s great hall? Trepidation skittered over Ewen’s skin.

  “Roi,” he called again, reaching for Roi as he drew nigh. Ewen needed to touch him and reassure himself that Roi was indeed hale and whole. But Roi stumbled back, away from Ewen’s outstretched hand, his countenance stricken as if Ewen had delivered a punishing blow.

  “Tell him, Guardian,” the lynx pleaded, her gaze burning with censure.

  Ewen glanced betwixt the two, attempting to keep from being crushed by Roi’s withdrawal, his almost chilly disdain. “Tell me what?”

  Roi glanced away, and that was when Ewen noticed his eyes. They were no longer blue. Then he knew.

  Ewen’s throat tightened painfully. Nay, he refused to believe. Roi was not gone. By dint of will alone, Ewen stayed on his feet. “Does he not live within you?” The pleading in Ewen’s tone was unbidden.

  Some moments passed afore Roi met Ewen’s gaze. No trick of light deceived him. His eyes were the golden-brown Donn had described to Ewen of Bear’s eyes. Fordel’s eyes.

  “Does naught of him remain?” Ewen beseeched. Surely Fordel shared his body with Roi like any other wyrbear.

  Pity crossed the scarred countenance Ewen knew so well. “Nay.”

  Ewen’s knees gave way at the single word, only the strong arm of his brother and, oddly, that of his marrae, Avory, saved Ewen from crumpling onto the cold stone floor. They led Ewen to a nigh bench, a dark, dour mood colouring Ewen’s thoughts even as he worked to fathom why.

  “I understand naught.” Ewen leaned his palms upon his knees and hunched his shoulders as if the posture would protect him from the coming answers. “Roi be your companion.”

  Roi— nay, Fordel moved afore Ewen and crouched upon his heels. “Nay, not my marrae. I knew him to be a body that would be mine if I could be free of you.”

  Breath caught in Ewen’s breast where a new ache bloomed. Another sting of betrayal curdled his blood. Was there none he could trust? “I thought you… and I… we adored him together.”

  “Nay.” Fordel grimaced as if reading Ewen’s thoughts. Did he read guilt in Fordel’s expression? “I declined to dissuade you from the notion so you would not send him away. That you would come to adore him so were not my intent. For that, I be truly sorry.”

  The woman made a rude noise of disgust, drawing a sharp glance from Fordel. Ewen turned his gaze away, unable to look upon Roi’s visage any longer.

  “So what Roi claimed be no falsehood,” Ewen choked out, his eyes burning as he remembered Roi’s countenance afore the fire they had shared, spilling secrets and fears. “Roi died by my hand. His demise be my doing.” The agony under Ewen’s breast grew, his head falling into his hands as he whispered words of apology Roi would never hear. Ewen rocked back and forth as the wail of mourning burned his throat, clawing its way free. What had he done—again? For the third time in his life someone he loved above all died because of him. First his father, with no words of fàg soiridh bhuan because Ewen came too late to save him. Then Caitriona in childbirth whilst he was away, seeing to his duties. Again, he gave no farewell for he arrived too late.

  Now Roi. He had coaxed Ewen to love again, and Ewen had repaid him by taking his life because his bloodline had played a friendship false and stolen what did not belong to them.

  Fordel made to rise, and Ewen grasped his arm. He did not loose his hold even when Fordel flinched at Ewen’s touch but rather held firm, needing Fordel to hear his words afore walking away.

  The height of folly or no, Ewen said, “Take me. I would trade places with Roi.”

  Fordel’s brow climbed high afore his lips twisted in a sneer. “Your blood imprisoned me once, I shan’t give you another chance.” H
e pulled roughly at Ewen’s staying hand but Ewen did not let up.

  “Nay! You misunderstand. Do not punish Roi for the deeds of my ancestors. If any should pay it should be me. Allow me to pay that debt.”

  “Da! Nay! There must be another way to free Roi.” Brigid sounded frantic. She ran from the stairwell where she had obviously been hiding and listening in on her elders.

  Ewen released Fordel to catch her. Tears blurred his vision as he looked down at her, his brave, beautiful girl.

  “This body be mine. None shall wrest it from me again. Roi knew what he be doing, what he would give up,” Fordel snapped with rising ire.

  Brigid turned and levelled a glare at Fordel so much like her mother’s. “At what cost to him, to us, those who love him?” And a tongue just as sharp.

  “What price have I paid over and again these many ages? Do not speak to me of cost, little one, for you know not what you speak of!” Fordel stormed away.

  Avory cast Ewen a pitying glance afore hastening after Fordel. Brigid hugged Ewen’s neck, wiping away his tears with a linen square. “There must be a way to bring Roi home without us losing you, Da. Would he want that?”

  “When did you grow into such a fine young woman?” Ewen tried to make his tone light and teasing, but he thought he failed. Kissing her upon the brow, Ewen rose to his feet, pain making his very bones ache.

  “I am not grown yet, Da, for the boys do not turn my fancy,” she replied tartly, her eye catching on the woman who had argued with Fordel.

  Giving a bitter chuckle, Ewen nodded, almost falling over.

  Donn clutched his elbow. “Ye should not be out of bed.” His brother directed Ewen back towards his bedchamber, and Ewen followed like an obedient dog. The woman who called Roi her son still stood staring narrow-eyed after Fordel. Ewen would not want to be on the end of that weighted gaze.

  “M’lady.”

  When she turned her eyes upon Ewen, her countenance softened. Moving forward, she took Ewen’s hands in her warm, rough ones. “Beloved of my son, I greet ye. I am called Ebba, Shaman of the Oneida People.” The smile she bestowed unto Ewen was warm, turning her lined features into a striking visage.

  “Welcome to my home, mother of my marrae.” Ewen’s throat closed over any other words he would have given her, though she took no offense. Instead she gripped Ewen’s hands harder as if willing strength into him, and he shared a long gaze with her, united in their love of Roi.

  Eventually, Donn pulled Ewen away, giving an apology then commanding food and drink be brought to their guests. Brigid attempted to follow Ewen, but Freya ushered her upstairs with Una and Eumann, for which Ewen was glad. He knew not how much longer he could be strong for her sake.

  No words passed between them as Donn disrobed Ewen and put him back into bed. Ewen closed his eyes, feigning sleep so Donn would leave. Then, when he was truly alone, Ewen turned his head into the pillow and inhaled Roi’s lingering scent. Feeling the weight of his loss keenly, Ewen cried.

  ~ : § : ~

  WHEN EWEN NEXT WOKE he was no longer alone in his skin. Something arched and stretched within, as if coming up from a long, long slumber. Ewen caught a whiff of scales and grass and the air at the height of summer.

  The drakon.

  Ewen had not thought of what had happened to the creature when he first woke without the beast adorning his arm. Roi had been in the fore of his thoughts. Now Ewen recalled the drakon pouring into the hollow Fordel had left behind, yet he had not sensed the drakon until now.

  “Good morn to you.” The drakon sniffed disdainfully. “And I be a loong, a mighty dragon of the wind and air, not a water-addled drakon. Sea serpents be distant cousins, but the only sameness betwixt us be that we both have scales.”

  If Ewen had not been lying down he would have stumbled.

  The loong laughed softly. “I am called Xun, second-born hatchling of Master Yingjie, exiled prince of the air loong.”

  Ewen lay very still, unsure whether to believe what he heard. For certes there were no such living creatures as drakons, but afore he could give a denial, pieces of what he had witnessed over the years awakened to remind Ewen that the fantastic was ever probable, simply likely hidden.

  “Master Yingjie?” Ewen was happy they were alone for he gaped at naught as he spoke to himself. “You! You be how he helped me— us?” His time with Master Yingjie seemed like an age agone. Ewen had promised to trade a favour to Master Yingjie if he would help Ewen break the curse on his people. The loong now ensconced within him had succeeded where Ewen had failed.

  “To free Fordel, the spells that caged him need be broken,” Xun said smugly, blatantly reading Ewen’s thoughts. Had Fordel done the same but neglected to tell Ewen? Most likely. Xun cleared his throat, gaining Ewen’s attention again. “Not only the geas your guardian placed upon you, but also the older curse, the one that tore Fordel’s spirit from his body. Roi knew this and worked to find a way to free you. He gathered the compounds I told him he needed for the salve; the sacred yew freely giving of itself unto him. Thus when the bearwyr, Avory, placed the salve upon me, it disarmed my father’s spell, freeing me to leave your skin. I ate the binding magick your guardian placed upon you and then freed the ungrateful mathan of the ancient curse.” Xun sounded very pleased with himself yet gave a vexed huff at the end.

  “You marked Roi.” Ewen had run his hands over the image of a long, sinewy drak— loong that had been placed upon Roi’s back. Avory said it was a drakon’s claiming mark. Ewen had never told Roi the shape of the marking, and he had not asked.

  “Yes, he is our mate.” Xun purred. “The first time you shared your body, your bedding with Roi, I awakened from the half-sleep Father placed me in and bided my time. That night, as you and Fordel dreamed soundly, I used my limited magick to borrow your body, not only to claim him as my own, but also to give unto him the information he needed to succeed in his task.”

  Ire flared bright and hot within Ewen. “Roi be as good as dead.”

  Xun’s rumble vibrated Ewen’s chest. “Whatever do you mean?”

  Ewen did what he had always hesitated to do with Bear—he wordlessly opened his mind, allowing Xun to see his memories.

  Xun hissed, the heat of his anger matching Ewen’s. “He has truly stifled Roi’s spirit?”

  Ewen rolled from the bed. Riding their combined anger felt so much better than the black sorrow that had covered him like a heavy blanket. At Xun’s bidding, Ewen donned only a pair of trouse afore leaving the bedchamber. Their ill temper rode afore them like a dark cloud, a thunderhead charging and ready to strike.

  They found Fordel in the courtyard, seemingly arguing with Avory. Ewen could not bring himself to care why. The ravens that had appeared afore Fordel was freed had yet to leave and were watching the pair. They hopped along the earthworks, filling the air with their cawing. Curiously, the crone still stood in the bailey, watching Fordel and Avory as well. Ewen dismissed it all.

  He had pleaded and begged only for Fordel to turn a deaf ear. Now, Xun and Ewen would make Fordel listen, if for no other sake than Roi. Ewen refused to believe Fordel held no soft feelings or compassion for Roi.

  “Allow me,” Xun said, and again, Ewen did what he could not with Bear. He gave himself over to Xun without delay. Xun and Ewen seemed to be truly blended as Bear and Ewen had never been.

  “Guardian! Unhand my Dragon Master! I, Xun, second born to the wind loongs, call upon you to return what you have stolen!” Xun’s accent was almost a match for Master Yingjie’s, dripping with authority and a dash of utter disdain.

  Fordel’s expression was one of great surprise. “I do not have your master.”

  “Do not play me false, for I can feel him within you now.” Xun hissed, his very tone challenging Fordel to gainsay him. “Upon that body be my mark; you cannot deny it. I wrestled with you once before and won, Guardian, I can do so again.”

  “None resides here but me, drakon. I have never shared any of my forms with another.”
Fordel looked affronted.

  “So you would disregard the soul born to that body because you do not share?” Scorn dripped from Xun’s every word.

  “Do not twist my words. My body never had a life’s breath of its own afore my spirit be ripped from it. Cerridwen pushed my form to enroot one lest it die. Now that I be, this body had no need of any soul but mine.”

  “I shan’t let you sacrifice Roi needlessly for your selfish shortsightedness, Guardian. You be unworthy of the precious gift of his soul.” Xun roared, the sound nothing like the call of an angry mathan. It was more primal, a warning that promised death to those who crossed Xun, and Ewen found himself revelling in the power they exuded. Gone was the constant pain of sharing his body with an embittered creature. No longer did his bones or soul ache with constant agony. He and Xun fit together as if they had been made to complement each other, their spirits meshing seamlessly together as if they were of one mind. Was this how his brethren felt when it came to their mathans? Only Xun was something else entirely. Ewen found he did not mind.

  Xun pushed at the edges of Ewen’s being, silently asking Ewen to mùth. Never afore had Ewen experienced such, and his heart raced at the thought of becoming something else, of changing into Xun’s loong body. Yes.

  Ewen’s core heated and his bones ached. Ewen recalled with clarity the only time he had tried to cruth-atharrachadh, all those years agone, falling into the memory as he melted from the inside out, his bones and his gut coming together. Rather than fight, Ewen threw himself into Xun, embracing and welcoming the loong as a part of himself. Once again Ewen was a boy on the cusp of his change, travelling with his granda to the cradle so he could put his name upon the wall next to his forefathers. Granda had just told him the terrible story of the wyrbear origins when a woman—Ebba, Ewen recognized her now—carried in a boy no older than Eumann.

  Wet and cold, Ebba had relayed to those in the longhouse the fate of the boat caught at sea, the blond-haired boy the sole survivor. And then the child—Roi—had met Ewen’s gaze, his eyes a shade of blue Ewen had never seen afore. Fordel had awoken, rejoicing, forcing the change in order to get to his form. But Granda had been there and slapped an amulet to Ewen’s chest. The pain to both Fordel and Ewen had caused Ewen to pass out, but not afore he noticed Granda’s assessing gaze sweeping the lodge.