Guardian (Book Two of the Spirits' War Trilogy)

by K. V. Wilson

  “Ha! Like ye nearly killed us?!” Elspeth fires at me. “An’ our house is burnt to a crisp!”

  I roll me eyes, shaking my head. “I’m not yer enemy, Madam. Just sit back an’ wait fer the tea.”

  Come on, let’s get this over with. Then I can be free o’ this wretched beast.

  “You sit down, you rotten piece of—”

  “Shut yer geggy, Elspeth,” Ramsey sighs.

  “I’ll—”

  “Ye’ll shut it when you’re good an’ ready, aye? Are ye ready now?”

  “Now, who wants tea?” Bryce enters the living room, followed closely by Emily. Each of the Lycans carries a tray upon which rests three china teacups. Ramsey’s eyes light up at the sight.

  “See, Elspeth? They use their good china. Why can’t we use our damned good china?”

  I run a hand o’er me face, smiling in gratitude as Bryce hands me a teacup. “So, how have things been goin’?” I ask quickly, hoping to change the subject.

  “Oh, they’ve been going fairly well,” Emily says, eyeing Ramsey and Elspeth. The two dragons are still locked in a staring contest.

  I glance over at MacLarty, expecting a wide smile on his face; he usually takes much delight in watching Elspeth’s irrational arguments.

  “We haven’t lost an alpha in…what’s it been, Emily? Two years?”

  “Yeah, I think so.”

  “Lost...?” I frown at her.

  “Covenant,” Bryce explains. “They’re getting stronger. I heard there was a big battle a few months ago. Wasn’t it out in London, Emily?”

  Mrs. Gunn only stares at the ground. She’s probably remembering her ex.

  “It was,” I confirm. “Well, not exactly. Out in the countryside. O’course, at the time of the First Ritual, there was no London.”

  “No one wants to hear about your ancient escapades, dog,” Elspeth snorts.

  “On the contrary, I’d be interested,” Bryce says matter-of-factly. “For educational purposes.”

  Heh, heh. Fer educational purposes. This guy.

  “Don’t get him started,” MacLarty warns. “He’s a little too enthusiastic about his part in our creation.”

  “As he should be.” Bryce smiles faintly at the young Lycan. MacLarty raises an eyebrow at his stepfather.

  Emily nods, threading her fingers through Bryce’s. “C’mon Ace. This’ll be good for you to hear.”

  “I’ve already—”

  “Alrighty,” I begin, loudly and enthusiastically, with the intent to please our potential recruits. Maybe they can convince their clan and others in Edinburgh to join us. “As ye know, I’m one of Mac Tíre’s avatars. His spirit – along with those of Nwyfre and Ru-Yeva – originated somewhere in the midst of the ancient United Kingdom. We spread out o’er the years, but we always kept in contact—”

  “Telepathically,” Flint adds, grinning.

  “Really?” Bryce leans in, brown eyes wide. He adjusts his wire-rimmed hipster glasses, licking his lips. “So you can talk to the other two at any time?”

  “Yes. Well, when their minds are open to mine. When they want to talk,” I inform the Lycan.

  I don’t mention the fact that I’ve lost contact with Ru-Yeva. I need to inspire them, not worry them. To enforce this thought, I meet MacLarty’s eyes as if to say ‘don’t ye dare’.

  “So, at some point, Mac Tíre came across a group of people who were worshipping some kind of wolf deity. I thought to meself, why don’t I share me shapeshifting talent with these people? Why can’t I allow them to Shift to the form that so pleases them? I was tired of being alone. Nwyfre and Ru-Yeva were off explorin’ new worlds and whatnot, and I was a bit miffed that they hadn’t wanted me to come along. But aside from that, I had generations of lifetimes ahead of me, and I’d explored a fair bit o’ the world already. I needed another hobby.”

  At this, Elspeth snorts again from her place in the armchair. She takes a long sip from her teacup, eyeing me the way a lioness eyes a gazelle.

  “So I told ‘em who I was an’ asked them if they were interested in being shapeshifters.”

  “Weren’t you afraid they’d kill you or something? I mean, didn’t they kill witches?” Bryce asks.

  “Oh, no. I mean yes, people were afraid of evildoers and demons and all that, but these people were different. They were Druids.”

  “Ah. Druids.” Bryce smiles contemplatively, rubbing his sideburns once again.

  “Yes. In fact, the Druids were the ones that gave Nwyfre his name. The life-force, they called him. It was central to their beliefs. The great red Ddraig is the physical manifestation of their life-force.”

  “It’s on the Welsh flag,” Flint adds.

  I nod. “So I told the Druids what to do and they set everything up fer me. I’m sure they didn’t believe anything I was sayin’ at the time, but they soon would. Heh, heh. They’d get a very pleasant surprise, that’s fer certain. That night, seventy-two Druids became the first Lycans the world had ever seen. O’course, the term ‘Lycan’ came later.”

  “And ye made yerself their god, I s’pose,” Elspeth mumbles, clearly bored.

  “They tried to worship me but I told ‘em it was not my place. I was their Guardian; nothing more, nothing less. They looked up to me the way modern-day Lycans would look up to an alpha. And so I led them with decency and respect.”

  “Pah!” Elspeth spits from her spot in the armchair.

  Emily and Bryce stare at the she-dragon. “With all due respect, Mrs. Andarsen, Mac Tíre seems to be a decent leader,” Emily states. “I’m glad my son crossed paths with him.”

  I smile, saying nothing. MacLarty nods at his mother, glancing at me. Fer a second I swear I can see a smidgen of admiration written on his features. But it’s soon gone.

  “So, to the point, mum,” young Ace says, raising his voice. “Would you be willing to help us defeat the Covenant?”

  “And the Knights of Saint Patrick,” I add fer good measure.

  Ace nods. “Them too. Would the clans be interested in joining us?”

  “Well.” Emily purses her lips. “I fought with the Lìog Airgid once before, and it didn’t turn out so well for me. Power-hungry husband an’ all. But then again, I met you there, Bryce, so it wasn’t all bad.” She winks at her husband before turning back to MacLarty. “For you, Ace, and for Damian, I’ll go back.”

  Bryce Gunn nods. “Count me in,” he says softly. “I’ll speak to the alpha. I’m sure you’ll find aid among the Lycans of Edinburgh.”

  25

  CHANGE

  Skye

  Sunlight filtered through the clouds and played upon my slender avian form as I weaved around the tops of trees. Wind licked at my facial feathers and I narrowed my eyes to keep it from rendering me sightless.

  But that was what father wanted.

  “You must see in different ways, Ru-Sejka,” he had advised me, “if you are to be one with the world.”

  Father had instructed me to practice what he called ‘spirit-sight’. I would soar high above the land – high enough to be ensconced deep within the cloud cover. I was to wait until I was rendered completely blind by the whiteness of the vapour.

  And then I was to truly see.

  The familiar impressions of spirits below soon overwhelmed my senses. I welcomed them. It was a sixth sense of sorts, spirit-sight was. It was the ability to recognize a living thing without seeing or hearing it. To be fully aware of its existence, no matter what form it took.

  Opening my mind to the spirit world unlocked a treasure trove of new possibilities. The world was so much more than what humans or Yeva’si saw of it.

  Endless balance. Living things competing for niches in this ever-changing world. Harmony and…destruction. There must be death if there was to be life. Even the Ru-Yeva must die before she may be reborn. A perpetual cycle. The energy continues to flow, and with each new generation, life goes on as it always has.

  My mind sought out a single spirit amongst all oth
ers. I could not help it. My love for Xunnu was growing and if I were to search for spirits, my sole intention was to seek his.

  I soon found it – a strong, gentle spirit, more familiar even than my own – at a riverbed to the north of our settlement.

  He was not alone.

  My heart sank as I recognized the souls of Xáan and Koyah. I had descended low enough for them to spot me, but none of the three young males glanced up as I alighted, concealed within the foliage-infused branches of a birch.

  They were happy. They were content to live their lives without me. And I had only pushed myself farther and farther away, knowing that the chieftain would punish me for such a friendship.

  What kind of Guardian would allow another to order her around, especially when she knew it was wrong?

  I resolved to join them. If not now, then on their next outing. And if Xáan were to tell his father, I would stand up to him like I should have done before.

  “And what of Sejka?”

  I started at the sound of my name. It was Xunnu’s angered voice that reached my ears.

  Xáan grabbed a stick and tossed it into the river. He leaned against the bank, feet propped on a smooth rock. The river was running low again; it was getting drier with each passing year.

  “She is powerless,” Xunnu’s brother told him. “When you are of age this summer, Father will expect you to choose that daughter of the Ulawey tribe. Why would you think you could take a runt as a mate?”

  “She’s not a runt! She’s—”

  Koyah cleared his throat. “My sister has a disposition, not unlike yours, Xunnu. Sejka sees things that cannot be, that never were.”

  “I enjoy her company,” Xunnu mumbled.

  “As did I, once.” Koyah joined Xáan at the riverbank. “She is small and weak. She shows signs of a feral nature. Unworthy of such responsibility.”

  His words spurred a surge of pain through my heart. He was not only speaking of my unworthiness to be a chieftain’s mate, but also to bear the Ru-Yeva’s power. He was spreading lies that I was a victim of the Sickness, yet he knew my connection with nature was due to my Guardianship.

  Xunnu scoffed. “Sejka makes the best of life, no matter the hardships. Just like I do.”

  Koyah smiled sadly, betraying his understanding. Xáan, however, appeared bewildered. He did not know what kind of power I was capable of.

  “I’m going to her. She needs allies, not former friends and siblings who would so easily turn against her simply for being small or weak.” Xunnu lifted himself from the rock he’d been perched on.

  My pulse quickened. I should be getting back, especially if he intends to visit me.

  But as Xunnu stalked into the trees, Xáan and Koyah continued speaking. I could not resist listening in, no matter how wrong it was or how disrespectful their words were.

  “If only I were firstborn,” Xáan said solemnly, “I would become chieftain and right the wrongs in this world. Our tribe suffers because we are too weak. I would be the forceful hand that expels runts like Sejka. If she insists on being so different, why does she not start her own tribe and leave us be? The time for change is now.”

  I turned my gaze to my brother, rage seething within. Koyah crossed his arms and stared at the sunlight that permeated the clouds. I imagined him in his eagle form, his gold-and-white plumage radiating the joy he’d once felt at exploring the world with me.

  “Maybe we do need change. The old ways do not work any longer. If they did, they would have bestowed someone like you or me with such power. Not a weakling like Xunnu or Sejka.”

  “Agreed,” Xáan muttered, tossing a stone into the dwindling river. It sunk to the silted bed below, carrying my heart with it.

  26

  MILD TURBULENCE

  Skye

  “No!”

  I catch the whispered syllable as it skims the outskirts of my consciousness. The exclamation is followed by a string of curses. I blink, trying to accommodate myself to the present; we’re on an airplane. An airplane headed for London, England.

  “Must have followed us,” Conall’s worried voice hisses. He’s in the middle seat. Damian has the aisle.

  “Bloody hell,” the Scot breathes. “Wh-what do we do?”

  “Leave this to me,” comes a third voice on Conall’s other side, and I recognize the soft yet confident air of the shapeshifter chieftain, Xunnu. I scramble at the blankets, not caring that my little mouse claws are sticking in the fabric. I have to see what this is all about.

  “Excuse me, sir,” a new voice begins, high-pitched and annoying. It has an air of boredom and nonchalance.

  I peek out of the backpack, attempting to catch sight of its owner. A skinny flight attendant with bleached bangs hangs low over the dinner tray, speaking in a condescending tone. Her eyes are a mild chestnut, but her expression is anything but friendly.

  “We need to see your passport,” she informs Conall.

  Xunnu doesn’t give Conall a chance to reply. Instead, he mimics the woman’s harsh tone.

  “Excuse me? My friends and I are travelling overseas for a wedding. Is there a problem?”

  “I didn’t say anything about you.” The attendant’s voice dwindles even lower, her syllables ice against the already-chilled atmosphere. “I have been informed by another passenger that this young man is unauthorized to travel.”

  “And who would that have been?” the chieftain retorts. “We are minding our own business. I do not appreciate this. May I speak to a superior?”

  I catch a glimpse of the flight attendant as she purses her rose lips in thought, glancing over her shoulder. “You may.”

  A few moments later, a second flight attendant reaches our row, eyes narrowed as he scratches at his stubble. “May I see your passports, sirs?”

  “Yeah,” Conall mutters, reaching for the pack under his seat.

  I sink down into the Lycan’s bag so no one will see the little auburn mouse inside it. Beside me, Litu and Xera have awakened and are staring at me with wide eyes.

  The two attendants stare intently at the passport that my father’s organization had forged for Conall. Their eyes widen.

  “Is there a problem, sir?” he asks, mocking the male attendant’s nasally tone.

  I peek through the crack again so I can watch the scene unfold. My heart thuds in my chest, the energy surging through my body as if the slightest lapse will cause lightning to erupt from my core.

  Instead of answering, the male attendant whispers something into his coworker’s ear. She darts towards the front of the cabin while he backs up a step. Two more employees are already at the scene, hands on their hips.

  Conall swears under his breath. “Xunnu,” he warns through clenched teeth.

  “Attention passengers,” a voice booms through the loudspeaker, “this is your copilot speaking. There has been a small…delay. We are heading to the nearest city. Please stay seated. There is nothing to worry about.”

  My heart drops to my stomach. We must be only halfway through the flight; the nearest city would be miles and miles away from here.

  “An escaped convict from Calgary, he said,” one of the attendants whispers to another.

  “Who said?”

  “That guy up there.”

  The employees regard Conall for a few moments before a loud thump from the front of the airplane makes them whip their heads around. The other passengers begin to wail and gasp as the crashes continue.

  It’s the Covenant. They’ve managed to distract the staff by telling them Conall’s a con man. If the situation wasn’t so dire, I’d laugh at the play on words.

  “Xunnu,” Damian calls out in a fearful sing-song voice, “what now?”

  The shapeshifter exchanges a glance with Damian and then Conall. “Prepare yourselves.”

  “We take them down,” Conall says, calm as ever despite the severity of the situation.

  “Listen carefully,” Xunnu hisses from the aisle seat. His body is tensed, ready to spring
into action. “The Covenant is trying to hijack the plane. I want Thirteen and Damian to follow me to the front.” He lowers his voice, glancing down at me. “Girls, you stay here. David…”

  Oh no.

  He’s up there. I can hear him. I can’t see him but I can hear him, his cries of pain as he attempts to stop the soldiers.

  “Are they armed?” Conall whispers frantically.

  “Not with anything but what they can scrounge up from the cabin,” comes Xunnu’s reply.

  “Down, demon!” a voice cries from the front and I bite back a scream. Nearby passengers squeal in terror at his words.

  David’s in danger. I’ve wasted enough time.

  I scramble for the mouth of Conall’s pack, launching myself onto the floor of the aircraft. I Shift, gritting my teeth at the pain as my rodent body gives way to that of a human. I snatch Sejka’s cloak from the bag’s side pocket, shrugging it on and wrapping it around me to cover up my bare skin.

  “Skye!” Conall hollers, causing the passengers in his immediate vicinity to swing their heads around, eyes wild. “Get down!”

  “Move!” I shoot back, pushing my way into the aisle. This is a life or death situation. I may be the only one strong enough to confront the soldiers, however many there may be.

  The lights in the cabin flicker and I feel their power surges mimicking the pounding of my brainwaves as I make my way to the front of the plane. I feel a hand on either shoulder, attempting to pull me back, but I ignore them.

  “Skye, stop!” Conall snarls.

  “You!” I scream at the nearest soldier.

  His eyes blaze with pure hatred, even in the dim light of the cabin. “Stand down, demon!”

  I clench my fists and hiss, “Let my uncle go.”

  The energy feeds through my arteries, sending my body alight with newfound vigour.

  “One more step and he dies,” the soldier spits, slamming David’s head against the wall. He squeezes the Lycan’s neck with a gloved hand, making my uncle wheeze.

  “D-don’t…” David gasps.

  My breath catches as I realize the soldier is holding a gun to the side of my uncle’s head. Where did you get that?