P.C. Cast - Awakened

Her words worked on me like a goad and, in time to the sound of bells and pipes and cymbals that I suddenly heard, I began to dance with the creatures my blood had solidified.

Looking back on it, I should have paid more attention to the sharp profile of horns that I glimpsed as I twirled and jumped, arm in arm with the fey. I should have noticed the color of the bull’s coat and the gleam in his eye. I should have mentioned his presence to Sgiach. A lot might have been avoided, or at least anticipated, had I known better.

But that night I danced in innocence and the newness of ancient magick revealed, oblivious to any consequences more dire than me feeling tired and drained and needing a big dinner and a good eight hours of sleep.

“You were right. It didn’t last very long,” I said, breathing heavily as I plopped down next to Sgiach on her moss boulder. “Can’t we do something to make them stay longer? They seemed so happy to be real.”

“The fey are elusive beings. They only owe allegiance to their element, or those who wield it.”

I blinked in surprise. “You mean they’re loyal to me?”

“I believe they are, though I cannot tell you for certain as I have no true affinity to an element, though I am an ally to water and wind, as I am protector and queen of this island.”

“Huh. So, can I call them to me, even if I leave Skye?”

Sgiach smiled. “And why would you ever want to do that?”

I laughed with her, at that moment not understanding why in the world I would ever want to leave this magickal, mystical island.

“Aye, if I followed the sound of wummen’s chattering, I knew I’d be finding yous two.”

Sgiach’s smile grew and turned warm. Seoras joined us in the grove, moving to his queen’s side. She touched him just for a moment on his strong forearm, but that touch was filled with several lifetimes of love and trust and intimacy.

“Hello, my Guardian. Did you bring the bow and arrows for her?”

Seoras’s lips twisted. “Aye, of course I did.” The old Warrior turned and I could see that he held an intricately carved bow made of dark wood. The matching leather quiver filled with red-feathered arrows was slung across his shoulder.

“Good.” She smiled appreciation at him before turning her gaze to me. “Zoey, you’ve learned much today. Your Guardian needs a lesson in believing in magick and Goddess-given gifts, too.” Sgiach took the bow and arrows from Seoras and held them out to me. “Take these to Stark. He has too long been without them.”

“You really think that’s a good idea?” I asked Sgiach, glancing askance at the bow and arrows.

“What I think is that your Stark will not be complete unless he accepts his Goddess-given gifts.”

“He had a claymore in the Otherworld. Couldn’t that be his weapon here, too?”

Sgiach just looked at me, the shadow of the magick we’d both just experienced still reflected in her green eyes.

I sighed.

And, reluctantly, held out my hand to take the bow and quiver of arrows from her.

“He’s not really comfortable with this,” I said.

“Aye, but he should be,” Seoras said.

“You wouldn’t say that if you knew everything that went along with this thing,” I said.

“If it’s that he cannae miss his mark that yur meanin’, then, aye, I know that, as well as the guilt he carries about the death of his mentor,” Seoras said.

“He told you all about it.”

“He did.”

“And you still think he should get back into using his bow?”

“It’s not so much Seoras thinking it as the fact that he knows, from centuries of experience, what happens when a Guardian’s Goddess-given gifts are ignored,” Sgiach said.

“What happens?”

“The same thing as happens if a High Priestess tries to turn from the path her Goddess has paved before her,” Seoras said.

“Like Neferet,” I whispered.

“Aye,” he said. “Like the fallen High Priestess who tainted yur House of Night and caused the death of yur Consort.”

“Though in all truthfulness you should know that it’s not necessarily such a dire choice between good and evil when a Guardian, or a Warrior, ignores his gifts from his Goddess and turns from her appointed path. Sometimes that simply means a life unfulfilled and as mundane as is possible for a vampyre,” Sgiach explained.

“But if ’tis a Warrior whose gifts are powerful, or one who has faced Darkness, been touched by the fight against evil—well, that Warrior cannae fade so easily into obscurity,” Seoras said.

“And Stark is both,” I said.

“He is indeed. Continue to trust me, Zoey. It is better for your Guardian to walk the path meant for him than to slink around and, perhaps, get caught in the shadows,” Sgiach said.

“I see your point, but getting him to use his bow again isn’t going to be easy.”

“Ach, well, yu have the magick of the ancients to call upon while yur here on our isle, don’t you now?”

I looked from Seoras to Sgiach. They were right. I felt it in my gut. Stark couldn’t hide from the gifts Nyx had given him any more than I could deny my connection to the five elements. “Okay, I’ll convince him. Where is he anyway?”

“The laddie is restless,” Seoras said. “I saw him walkin’ by the shore side of the castle.”

My heart squeezed. We’d just decided the day before that we were going to stay here on Skye, indefinitely. And after what had just happened with Sgiach and me, I could hardly bear thinking about leaving. “But he seemed fine with staying,” I spoke my thoughts aloud.

“What’s wrong with him isna so much where he is, but who he is,” Seoras said.

“Huh?” I said brilliantly.

“Zoey, what Seoras means is that you’ll find your Guardian’s restlessness much improved when he is a whole Warrior again,” Sgiach said.

“And a whole Warrior uses all of his gifts,” Seoras said with finality.

“Go to him and help him become whole again,” Sgiach said.

“How?” I asked.

“Ach, wumman, use yur Goddess-given brains and figure that oot for yurself.”

With a gentle push and a shooing motion, the queen and her Guardian sent me from the grove. I sighed, mentally scratched my head, and started toward the shoreline wondering just what the heck kind of word ach was.

Distracted by thinking about Stark, I made my way down the slippery stone stairway that wound around the base of the castle, emptying out on the rocky shore from which Sgiach’s edifice had been built straight up, so that it was cliff-like and totally imposing.

The sun was beginning to set, allowing the sky to retain some of its illumination, but I was glad for the rows of torches that jutted from the stone base of the castle’s foundation.

Stark was alone. His back was to me and I got to watch him as I picked my way across the shore to him. He held a large leather shield in one hand, and a long claymore in the other, and he was practicing thrusts and parries as if he were facing a dangerous, but invisible, enemy. I moved quietly, taking my time and enjoying the view.

Had he gotten taller all of a sudden? And more muscular? He was sweating and breathing hard, and he looked strong and very, very male and dangerous-ancient-Warrior-like in his kilt. I remembered how his body had felt against mine the night before, and how we’d slept all pressed together, and my stomach gave a weird little lurch.

He makes me feel safe, and I love him.

I could stay here with him, away from the rest of the world, forever.

A chill passed over me with the thought and I shivered. At that moment Stark dropped his guard and turned. I saw the alert concern in his eyes that only faded when I smiled and waved at him. Then his gaze went to what I was holding in the hand I was waving, and his welcoming smile faded, even though he opened his arms to me, hugged me, and gave me a lingering kiss.