“Stay where you are,” Sorcha warned, noting the stricken looks on Taran and Ciaran’s faces, the way they were each tensing as if preparing to race toward her.
Skye sighed as her power responded to the threat. White light rolled over her form like flames. Each step that she took across the singed earth healed the wounds inflicted by fire and war. Grass that had been black and brittle eagerly drank in her healing light. Each blade was green and full of life by the time she lifted her foot. And from each place that she had touched, the healing spread outward like ripples in a pond, undoing the harm that these creatures had inflicted upon the land. It was bliss to feel this connection. She could sense the gratitude of the earth beneath her feet.
The army of fògaraich was tearing toward her at a dead run, flanking her, surrounding her completely. She merely tilted her head to the side as she watched them approach, studying the power that she could see inside of each of them. It was corrupted, clouded... but deep down... beneath all the curses and spells...
“Stop.” She whispered the instant before they reached her.
A harsh impact filled the air in response to her command. White light rushed from her like a shockwave, flowing outward in all directions.
“What in the world... ?” Ciaran breathed, gripping a tree limb and staring out at the field in awe as the light dissipated.
The fògaraich were frozen in place, suspended mid-leap in some cases.
Funny, she thought as she calmly walked between them. They always seemed so frightening when I was younger...
Without warning, she spun and gripped the nearest blood-drinker by its face, staring into the blackness of its eyes.
“I know you can see me,” she whispered.
But her words were not directed to the fògarach that she was touching. She could sense him in there behind those eyes, watching her through the link he shared with his kind.
“Brandubh... you took my family from me once. You took away the man I love tonight. Believe me when I say this, I will repay you for the suffering that you’ve dealt. It will be my hands that finally deliver the death you deserve.”
A dangerous smile came to her lips as she brought her face closer.
“Oh, but you don’t think I can do it, right? You think you’re safe because you hide behind spells? Well, guess what I think?”
She pressed her hand against the chest of the motionless blood-drinker in her grasp.
“I think I see something that belongs to me ,” she hissed.
As she closed her eyes, she willed it all back – all of the stolen magic that was sustaining the creatures around her.
A web of light erupted and covered the land, each strand connecting to her as she pulled the power away from them and into herself. One by one, the blood-drinkers began falling to ash, Sitheag’s stolen magic seeping from them at her command. With it, she took away the means they had used to maintain immortality.
“She’s quite the fast learner, is she nah?” Sorcha breathed, leaning back against Faolan as she beamed with pride. “Look at what we’ve made, my love,” she whispered to him in wonder.
“Every bit as breathtaking as the mother of her powers,” he agreed, nuzzling his face in her hair and watching Skye with tearful eyes.
“Brandubh’s got no idea what he’s up against, tha’s for sure,” Latharn laughed.
“Oh, I’ve a feeling she’ll be more than happy to shed some light on the matter for him,” Taran mused.
Skye opened her glowing eyes as the last of her family’s magic poured into her. She could feel it in her veins, hear it in her heartbeat. She sighed at the sensation of completion it gave, the part of her that had been just out of reach her entire life had finally been set free. It gave her peace, calmed the beast within.
A laugh escaped her when she noted that the fògaraich, every last one of the thousands of screeching abominations were now gone.
A thunderous cheer erupted behind her.
She turned and looked back at the forest, smiling and holding up a hand.
Taran had just taken a step forward to go to her when Sorcha stopped him.
“I do nah think she is finished quite yet, brave Taran,” she advised with a knowing smile. “Just another few moments, I think. She is seeing something tha does nah please her.”
And indeed she was.
Smoke filled Skye’s lungs and drew her attention. She looked up at the castle with stricken eyes. The fire continued to rage, sections of stone were still crashing to the ground in some places. For the most part, the flames had simply hollowed the structure, consuming all of the happy memories that she had been given within its walls. A tear streamed down her cheek. This was home – the first one she had been given in years. She was not ready to lose this unexpected sanctuary, this castle in which she had found herself.
Determination swept over her features. It was all about choice. She chose not to accept what fate had dealt. The decision was hers, she realized – and she wanted everything back exactly...
“As it was,” she whispered and closed her eyes.
A gasp escaped her as the power instantly responded to her will. The white light of her and Sorcha’s combined magic enveloped her. A blinding orb surrounded her, swirling and growing faster with each breath she took.
“Chreest, did anyone bring a pair of shades with them?” Eògan joked as he shielded his eyes. “How are we s’posed to watch the show if it’s going to steal our sight?”
Skye willed her power outward, let it pass over every inch of the castle grounds. She recalled its beauty, she bade it to return. And as the men watched with bated breath, every stone was returned to its place, all evidence of the fire was dissolved.
When her magic returned to her, the land was restored to its previous glory. She smiled peacefully and nodded in approval.
“As it was.” She whispered and bowed her head, saying silent thanks to the energies that had allowed this to come to pass. She realized that it was not simply her own power, or even Sorcha’s. She was able to do much of what she had because of Earth and Air and Water and Fire – because they had offered their assistance to her. She was in balance with them. She was their equal now. Turning from her achievement, she walked slowly back to the forest’s edge and to the Mother of her power.
“Flawless, child,” Sorcha commended and took Skye’s hand as she passed through the tree line.
“Thank you, Great Mother,” Skye whispered. She realized now that Sorcha was the one the tribes that lived in these lands had prayed to. She was the gealach bandia, the moon goddess – the very same goddess whom Taran and so many others still asked guidance of. And Skye was the child of the Great Mother – the face that Sorcha would show to the world. They were connected. They always had been.
“Hey, speaking of Mother and child and such, tha reminds me,” Ciaran began with a deep frown. “Anyone know where the Asher tikes wound up? If they’re safe? Where’d they go when they arrived and found the war raging?”
“We hadn’t much time to make preparations,” Drostan offered worriedly. “We set’em up in the ruins by the cliffs and posted some of our men to aid the Asher lads. Hopefully nothing’s happened to them.”
“They’re fine,” Skye assured with a smile. “And so are Miko and Aiyana and Aodh... I can sense them all.”
Sorcha took Skye’s arm in hers and began leading the group into the heart of the forest.
“Ya will be able to sense ever so much more by the time I teach ya all tha I can of your powers, my child,” she assured.
“You’ll have to give me the crash course,” Skye advised. “I’ve got a war to wage out there in the world.”
“See how she gets her eagerness for a brawl from ya, Faolan?” Sorcha said with a laugh. “Soon, child. Soon.”
50: Queen takes King
The awe-inspiring numbers of the clan had never been as apparent to Skye as they were in that moment. Standing atop the cliff, looking out over the tens of thousands of men that covere
d the land below for as far as the eye could see, Skye felt the full weight of the responsibility that she was inheriting. She steeled herself against the anxiety it threatened to rouse in her. It was fated to be this way. This was her path and no other’s.
Just as those worn by Faolan and Sorcha, Skye’s body was now draped in white furs. After spending so many hours standing nude amongst men, she had been understandably eager at Faolan’s offer of the pelts. He watched her proudly now, as did the others standing atop the cliff with her. Taran and Ciaran stood off to the side, waiting anxiously for Latharn to begin. Skye was to receive her official naming, and with the Mother of her power and Father of her wolf at her back, she looked every bit the part.
Latharn, standing at the highest point of the cliff, gave Skye one last reassuring smile before turning to address the clan.
She drew a steadying breath for the words to come.
“The time is upon us, lads,” Latharn called and, from this height, his voice echoed out across the crowd. “At long last, the Tàcharain Fhaol Clan will carry on its battle against the fògaraich. Our goal, our sole reason for being, is now this: the extermination of their breed, the complete eradication of the abominations tha have plagued mankind for far too long. Each breath we take, each moment of our immortal lives, is herein devoted to this task.”
He turned and raised a hand to Skye.
“Time has brought with it the One tha we have waited for since the beginning. The One for whom we were created to protect and serve. And in the presence of her light, I shed the mantle of authority tha I have held in her absence. It is my honor – nay, my privilege,” he corrected ardently, “to introduce to ya all the rightful leader of the Tàcharain Fhaol Clan. Our ruler by her very birthright, Queen Skye Faolan.”
As the men broke into a deafening mixture of applause and howls and cheers, Skye visibly flinched.
Queen.
They had warned her of this in advance, of course, but it failed to lessen the jarring impact of hearing such a title declared so irrevocably. No longer was she Skye Faden, the orphan from Philadelphia hell-bent on revenge. She was now Queen Skye Faolan of the Tàcharain Fhaol Clan. Equal parts woman, wolf, and goddess. Immortal. Commander of the faoil army. Daughter of the First, Faolan. Daughter of the Great Mother, Sorcha.
And nothing could ever turn it back.
She looked to Taran and Ciaran for support, and gave them an appreciative smile as they each inclined their heads to her.
“Speak to your clan, my child,” Faolan whispered in her ear and smiled sympathetically at the apprehensive look she cast him over her shoulder in response. “Ya know what ya need say, just keep it short for now. I promise, in time, ya will nah be so nervous when addressing them.”
Skye let out a long sigh and nodded.
“Yeah, I’m sure in about 1500 years or so, this’ll be a piece of cake,” she joked. “Wish me luck?”
“Our wishes for ya extend far beyond ‘luck’, sweet Skye,” Sorcha assured with a wink.
Suppressing a smirk, Faolan gave Skye a shove toward the edge of the cliff.
Her eyes widened in surprise and she tried not to laugh at the unexpected playfulness of her ancient father-figure.
“All right, geesh – I’m going!” She whispered before taking her first tentative steps out onto the ledge. At her approach, Latharn bowed and stepped down. The action was symbolic of the changing of the guard that was taking place. The instant that she was in position, the men on the ground below silenced.
Don’t be nervous... don’t be nervous...
She tried to slow her thundering heart as every eye and ear for several miles in all directions became trained on her. Willing her stomach to stop trying to turn itself inside out, she began with her trademark bluntness.
“I think it goes without saying that this is all a huge freaking shock for me,” she said with an arched brow.
The men chuckled in response.
She let out a relieved sigh at the breaking of the ice.
“But, given my little light-show earlier, I guess it’s too late to try to convince any of you that this is a case of mistaken identity. And so, I’ll just have to abandon that doomed attempt and move forward. Tonight, I will be meeting with our ancients to lay out a plan of attack. By tomorrow, you will all have orders on how to proceed. But first, I have been informed that I must claim my pack.”
She turned and smiled over her shoulder before extending her hand.
“Taran, my love, my mate, and my King,” she managed softly.
He bowed his head to her respectfully, placing his hand over his heart before starting toward her.
She nearly melted watching him approach.
While she did not think she could ever get used to thinking of herself as a ‘Queen’, Taran was the epitome of what a King should be. Once he was standing beside her, he placed his hand beneath her chin and leaned down to claim her mouth with his.
She laughed against his lips at the catcalls and whistles the men gave in response. This was a wedding of sorts, she realized. She had just given him his official naming before the clan. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him deeply and the applause from the men instantly grew in intensity.
“Does this mean I’ll need call ya ‘my Queen’ now, instead of my ‘wee one’?” He whispered with a grin as she gazed up at him.
“Great Mother forbid!” She teased in a fair imitation of his accent.
“Perhaps only in the presence of those outside our pack, then,” he laughed.
Skye nodded that this was a fair compromise before turning to find those smiling Irish eyes on her. Marveling at the love in her heart for this man, she held out her hand for him.
“Ciaran, my Dark One, my protector, and my confidant,” she called.
Ciaran flashed a smug grin in response to his introduction before giving her an overly-dramatic bow. He stepped forward and waved to the crowd, earning a wild round of applause from them, and enthusiastically blew kisses to the men before approaching.
“My Queen,” he whispered seductively and tilted his head to the side as he gave her a wicked smile. He arched a mischievous brow (no doubt recalling in graphic detail the last time he had been on his knees in front of her) before dropping to a knee and kissing the back of her hand.
“My troublemaker,” she whispered to him as he stood and took his place beside her. “And, of course, Drostan, my Maker,” she called as she beckoned him closer. “Now that you’ve made your reasons known, for the first time, I can call you by that title with a sense of gratitude.”
“My Queen,” he responded graciously, giving a knowing smile after he had bowed his head to her. “My pup,” he added softly enough that it would not carry to the men below.
She laughed before returning her attention to the crowd and addressing them once more.
“For the rest of you, should I name the ancient of a preexisting pack, please know that this means that they and all of their pups and elders will from this day forward be a part of my pack.”
She tried not to grin at the way the men were suddenly leaning forward expectantly. It was like selecting team members for a dodge ball game or something. They looked as if it was taking all of their willpower not to wave their hands and cry, ‘ooh, ooh, pick me! Pick me!’
Her finger pointed down at the first choice without hesitation.
“Ailean,” she called and, after smiling up at her adoringly, he clasped a fist to his heart. “You and every member of your pack are now a part of mine,” she informed him purposefully and watched the look on Elijah’s face as she said it.
She grinned at the relief and elation that passed over his features in response. As Taran and Ciaran had intended from the day they met the pup, the merging of the packs meant that Elijah would be with Skye. Their paths were now joined. No need to say ‘goodbye’ ever again.
“Long live the Queen,” Ailean cried in Gaelic (which, of course, she could not understand), before he and all member
s of his pack dropped to a knee and bowed their heads to her.
A loud, purposeful clearing of throat drew her gaze to the man that had already been next on her list. Apparently, he wanted to be sure that he was to be named.
“And Eògan, you and yours will be with me, as well,” she assured with a laugh.
“Ooh, and you’ll be right glad we are!” He insisted with a beaming grin before bowing his head to her respectfully. His pups and elders dropped to a knee behind him. “Every one of our lives in service to our Queen,” he swore and she smiled down at him.
“By all the power in me, let it not come to that. But I thank you for the gesture,” she replied in a calm, regal tone.
She realized in that moment the level of joining that had taken place between her and her wolf. Their thoughts were intertwined now, their words and mannerisms. Where she should still have been having a borderline anxiety attack at the expansive audience that she was addressing, she found that the wolf she had become only needed a few moments to reach tranquility.
The next name to fall from her lips stirred a surprised response from the crowd.
“Donnach,” she called, and smiled at the look of horror on his face. “You risked your life tonight in an effort to save the mortals. You went above and beyond what was expected of you to ensure their safety. For that, you will be a part of my pack. For that, you have earned my respect and gratitude.”
Donnach turned bright red right to the tips of his ears before dropping to his knees and bowing his head to her.
“Thank you, my Queen,” he called in a trembling voice.
“Onchu, Maon, and Luag – you’re with me,” she informed them, and the three goliaths dropped to their knees in response with surprising ease. “After he returns, Aodh will take his place as my General. And, of course, Miko... my pup... will be with me.” She smiled to herself at that before continuing. “While I would very much like to keep Latharn, who has served as the brave leader of the clan for so many millennia, at my side for the purposes of council – he will instead remain here at Faol Seunta as Guardian. His right hand, Cathal, will stay with him.”
Darkness Descends: A Skye Faden Novel Page 70