Guardian (Book Two of the Spirits' War Trilogy) Read online

  Betwixt the ocean and the loch

  Omniscient of the morn

  Roar of neither man nor beast

  Could turn the spirits Three

  Against the order, old and new

  To guard the earth and sea

  Spirit one, Son of the Land

  His howl strong, Adhair in hand

  Would take the realm, but naught as fought

  Nor ruled; ‘twas balance that he sought

  Spirit two, the one called Ru

  Would seek adventure; mischief too

  O'er the hills and seas she flew

  With nature's children, born anew

  And spirit three, the Life-Force, he

  Sought solace among the centuries

  His bestial heart always be strong

  Yet scarred by those who did it wrong

  The Lìog Airgid, formed for peace

  Must now fight and seek release

  From the chains that wind so tight

  Round the spirits; hear their plight

  A Terran parent spawned the Three

  No gender, race, or species be

  Whichever form that's taken, sees

  The countless spirits of Earth that seek

  An end to war, a planet freed

  PART ONE

  KIN

  “It began with a blessing from each of the animals, granting us access to its shape. We call ourselves the Yeva’si, which means ‘Nature’s children’. One spirit in particular was important in this ceremony. According to legend, this spirit was called the Ru-Yeva, or Guardian of Nature.”

  “What does it look like?”

  “There is no way to tell,” Sejka told me softly. “It is but a legend.”

  1

  SEJKA REINCARNATE

  Wet Season, 1949, was a plentiful year. The fish flailed their little bodies frantically against the rocks as they struggled to scramble upstream, paying no heed to their brethren or to the predators that lay in wait to sample their tender flesh. Their eyes shone wild with exhilaration as they attempted to leap over waterfalls three times their height. It was every salmon for himself that morning.

  I gripped the rocks tightly with my claws, trying hard not to slip as the water trickled by underneath, tickling my soles. I focused my gaze once again upon the chaotic motions of the animals beneath me, but all I saw were snippets of fins and tails as the salmon slunk by, undeterred by the ursine threat that surrounded their breeding grounds.

  “Grrrrrrrrmph!”

  Sehwen sidled onto my rock, knocking me aside in the process. I fell hard on my rump, causing a gigantic splash to ensue. Sehwen belted out another gruff noise – a warning.

  Lowering my head, I ambled across the water in search of another vantage point, wincing as the current threatened to pull me downstream. When Sehwen wanted something, he got it.

  I spent a few moments searching for the perfect spot but to no avail. Hearing a splash behind me, I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see a salmon clasped in the jaws of the great black bear. Sehwen gave me a half-smile half-snarl in a way that only a bear’s jaw could muster. He carried his prize to the bank to enjoy its succulent flesh.

  That catch could’ve been mine.

  But who was I kidding? I could not fish yet. The visions and emotions took up so much room in my mind that there was no space left for such trivial tasks as keeping my eyes fixed on the flimsy fish below.

  Sehwen was aware of this. He knew that I was different. But I did not think he knew why. How could he? Father had kept it a secret from everyone, everyone except my mother and my brother.

  “Sejka,” Father had told me upon many occasions, “don’t tell anyone about this. They are not ready to know. Sometimes the truth about things must be withheld until it is time.”

  But when would it be time?

  Ten winters I had seen, and still, I could not tell even my friends about my true nature. Not that there were that many I could call friends. Xunnu I considered a friend. And then there was my brother, Koyah. I considered him a friend as well, even though he ruffled my fur and took my sea glass.

  Father said it was not right to collect the glass. It was left on the beaches from the ‘others’. I pretended I didn’t know what he meant, that apparently there were others like us. ‘Humans’, they were called. They walked and talked like us, but they could not Change the way we could. They were locked to their first and only form, the one with two legs.

  Of course, we chose to stay in human form for most activities. It allowed us to speak to each other and to weave our nets and build our homes. It allowed for a warmer, better embrace.

  Yet I could not imagine life without the Change. It was all I knew. And though I was born Yeva’si – a shapeshifter – my spirit has known many incarnations.

  It had taken me a while to remember, but in this past year, it had all flooded back to me in rivulets of succulent emotions and memories. Some of it was a little overwhelming. Trust me, when you are trapped in the body of a ten-year-old child, it is a little difficult to keep track of what you did centuries ago. You get the impulse to run and play all the time. But I remember most of my past lives now, and it is enlightening.

  I remember the deal I made with a small, hungry, desperate group of people. I needed them to keep my true nature a secret as I worked to bring balance to the land. In return, I would give them a piece of myself. I would give them the ability to Shift at will, to bind their forms to the spirits of the animals they wished to mimic.

  It would not come easily, as you can imagine. The humans would have to spend days in the wilds, learning as much as they could about the animals and the forests around them. They would have to wait until they were able to see the world through the eyes of other beings. Only then would they have enough of the earth’s knowledge and energy to be able to bind their spirits to another form as I have always done.

  Always is a strong word.

  Always is almost synonymous with eternity.

  I certainly haven’t been around indefinitely. I was not here when the earth was new. In fact, I cannot quite remember my first incarnation. I’d like to remember, and you would think I would be able to – it being my first life and all. But it’s so long ago and I have so many memories that it just isn’t possible to think back that far.

  What I do remember is that I was present when the Yeva’si, the shapeshifters of the great northwest, became a race. I was not only there, but I was the one who blessed them. I was the first Ru-Yeva, or Guardian of Nature, as my tribe calls me. I have reincarnated many times before and since.

  I have kept the land green and healthy wherever I saw fit. I have been reincarnated all around the world. Flown with the eagles, swam with the dolphins and run with the cheetahs. I have felt the power of fire and of lightning, and I have meditated in the silent forests where man has not yet touched.

  I am not human, but neither am I any other. I am Spiritborne – a manifestation of whatever I happen to be in this fleeting moment in time.

  In my last life, I was known as Sejka of the Yáahl tribe.

  But now, you may call me Skye Matthews.

  2

  RETURN OF THE GUARDIAN

  “Alright, Skye. Hold still!”

  Xera’s voice lilts and flows with the delicate speech of the Yeva’si. She tugs at my hair with a practised hand. I clench my teeth as she pulls a little too roughly in order to make a tight braid. My shapeshifter friend seems to be weaving pieces of something into my hair, and I long to see what it looks like.

  “I’m trying.”

  At first, I was having trouble understanding the language of the Yeva’si. I hadn’t spoken this tongue before, at least not in this life. But they were patient with me. By requesting that they speak slowly, and attempting to vocalize the words myself within the confines of my tent, my brain gradually remembered what it was like to be fluent. Sejka’s memories – conveyed to me in my dreams – helped, too.

  My heart soars with excitement at
my new knowledge. In fact, I don’t know how many languages the spirit of the Ru-Yeva was exposed to over the years. Aelshen and Sejka had spoken to each other in the ‘Old Language’ – an archaic form of Scottish Gaelic. But the Guardian of Nature had been reborn among all kinds of people. She must have picked up a multitude of languages by now. It’s up to me to find out.

  “Ru-Skye! Are you listening to me?” Xunnu’s impatient voice interjects into my thoughts. He has begun adding the prefix ‘Ru’ to my name, indicating my status as Guardian of the Yeva’si people.

  “Huh?” I mumble, blinking twice to get my mind re-acquainted with the present time.

  “I said you will have to be strong, Skye. You have to remember these people are expecting a goddess. They are expecting you to be all that they are not. They are expecting you to be their Guardian.”

  Xunnu draws himself up to his full height, chest swelling with pride as he admires Xera’s handiwork.

  “Perfect, niece. She looks as she should.”

  Xera dips her head in gratitude for the compliment, and I manage a fake smile. My hands shake with anticipation.

  They are expecting a goddess.

  “Oh. Great. I didn’t think I could get any more nervous,” I mutter.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing. Xunnu?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why do I have to do this now? Can’t it wait until I can remember how I’m supposed to—”

  “No. You must do it today. Our people have waited long enough for this,” Xunnu informs me, grasping his greying hair and pulling it into a tight and orderly ponytail at his back.

  The Yeva’si chieftain is bedecked with a long beaded cloak similar to the one I wear – the one that once belonged to Sejka.

  How I miss the old woman. How I wish she had never given up the title of Ru-Yeva. I don’t deserve it. I should have died that night as we battled the Covenant in the light of the blood moon, but she had sacrificed herself so I could live on.

  “It’s not my fault they’ve had to wait. It’s Sejka’s. She didn’t want them to know who she was.”

  “And for good reason. She…her life was difficult.”

  I snort. “I can’t imagine why.”

  “The Ru-Yeva’s life is never simple. Sejka had a few enemies while growing up among our tribe.”

  “Sehwen,” I whisper, remembering my dream from last night. “I don’t know who he was, but he seemed like quite an ass—”

  “Sehwen was my father,” Xunnu says simply.

  My eyes grow wide and I bite my lip a few seconds too late. “Uh…um…I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “Alright. It is time.”

  “No! Wait.” Oh, how I wish I could just crawl up into a ball and stay that way forever.

  “Come on, Skye,” Xera urges.

  The shapeshifter brushes a stray strand of wild red hair from my face and attempts to tuck it into one of the many braids that adorn my head. I reach up to probe my new hairstyle, but Xera grabs my hand, forcing it against my side.

  “Don’t touch anything,” she orders. Then her face softens and she stares up at me with pride. “You look beautiful, Ru-Yeva.”

  “Please just call me Skye, Xera. I don’t think I can handle all this. Um, thank you, though.”

  I clasp my hands together at my waist to keep them from the odd habit of tucking my hair behind my ears, even when there’s nothing there to tuck. Ideally, I’d be wearing my Calgary Flames toque, and my fingers would be fiddling with the fabric, pulling it down over my ears and giving me a sense of peace. But here in the wilds of western Canada, such attire is out of place.

  Xera holds up a mirror – which must have been purchased while we were in London – and I gasp as I glimpse my new appearance. My hair is pulled back from my face and woven into little dreadlock-style braids. Amidst the tangles of my hair are feathers and beads, expertly placed so the overall appearance is something mystical, alien. Xera had also mixed up a mysterious and pungent concoction of scarlet face paint. She’d smeared it across my cheeks in elaborate patterns, giving me the impression of a warrior princess from another age. I really do look like some sort of exotic goddess.

  “Wow. Xera, I don’t know what to say.”

  Xera only smiles knowingly, adjusting the carved bones that are draped delicately across my chest like a warrior’s battle-piece. She grabs my shoulder and turns me towards the settlement that the Yeva’si call home.

  “C’mon, Skye. We’re going to be late.”

  As we start off towards the chieftain’s fire pit, people emerge from the tops of dugouts that are expertly hollowed from the earth. The homes are circular with fire pits in the centre, but they are a few feet underground, which makes for good insulation against the elements. The tops of the houses are covered with skins draped over logs. The wood comes together in the centre like some sort of teepee. A single – yet very substantial – log is placed almost vertically in the middle of each house; steps are carved into the wood to allow for a smooth exit from the highest point. It really is a genius design, and I wonder if the shapeshifters had come up with it themselves or if it was passed down from their human ancestors.

  As Xera continues to pull me through the settlement, the Yeva’si stare. Some of them nod or kneel as I pass, and I smile at them, embarrassed. Some, however, glare at me. They aren’t ready for a Ru-Yeva from a different land. Maybe they wish Sejka had not given up her physical form to save the life of an outsider. I don’t blame them. I certainly didn’t deserve to become some sort of spirit goddess. Spiritborne.

  If only Aelshen hadn’t run off in search of the mysterious Nwyfre Flint, I might have more answers. There are supposed to be three of us. I am the Guardian of Nature, the Ru-Yeva; Aelshen is Mac Tíre, Father of Lycans; and Nwyfre is supposed to have been the original Welsh Dragon.

  The dragon only has one known descendant – Gregory Flint, a boy of sixteen who’d lived and worked alongside Aelshen at their pub, Flint & Flockhart. If Xunnu hadn’t dragged me back to British Columbia, Canada, for the Ru-Yeva ceremony, I’d have been able to see Flint Shift to dragon form. According to Nwyfre’s descendant, other dragons hadn’t been seen for centuries and were thought to have died out along with their creator. But in my heart I know Nwyfre will return one day. And with him, the rest of the dragons.

  My uncle David and aunt Margo accompanied us here, intent on searching for more recruits. They’ll be joining the ranks of the Silver League – the Lìog Airgid. It’s a large band of Lycans and Yeva’si dedicated to taking down the ruthless Earth’s Covenant and proving that shapeshifters and humans can coexist.

  Since the Battle of the Ritual, the Covenant seems to have gone underground, which could either be a good sign or a very bad sign. Believing us demons, they’d attempted to commit genocide by severing the connection between human and wolf spirits. If they’d succeeded, Mac Tíre’s original Ritual would’ve been reversed and all Lycans would have perished.

  “Hey, wait up!”

  A familiar voice echoes through the forest and I turn my head eagerly, waiting for him to appear between the trees.

  “Xera, wait,” I tell the shapeshifter softly. “Just a…”

  It occurs to me that I don’t know how to say ‘just a sec’ in Yeva’si, so I just leave the sentence hanging. Xera nods with a slight smile, crossing her arms and cocking her head to the side in a polite yet clearly impatient gesture. I nod in thanks.

  “Oh hey, Thirteen.” I switch to English, smiling broadly and extending my arms to him. The Lycan lifts me up easily into a loose embrace, swinging me around before placing me back on the ground just a little too roughly. “Oof. Or should I say Mr. Conall Harvey?”

  I stare into his ocean eyes, the ones that had always harboured a strong tinge of hope and utter defiance against all evil in the world, especially against the Earth’s Covenant. The Lycan-hunting cult had imprisoned him and experimented on him, and though I pretend to understand what he went through, I neve
r will. Not fully.

  David and I had broken Conall out of the prison-like containment cell in the basement of the Earth’s Covenant headquarters in Calgary, Alberta. We’d barely escaped with our lives. The only other prisoner, Sean, was not so lucky. The eight-year-old Lycan had died during a short skirmish with a Covenant soldier. But I can’t think of that now. It’s too painful.

  All I am to them is a number, Conall had said. He’d been known only as Thirteen then, named after the cell he’d called home for the last five years of his teenage life.

  The Lycan pushes the dark, curly locks away from his eyes and I shove the memories to the back of my mind.

  “Hey, Skye. Or should I say Ru-Yeva?”

  I feel colour rising to my cheeks. The title still doesn’t feel right to me. Hearing him say it makes things even more awkward. He glances at my braids, tracing their forms across my head and down my body. He lifts a hand to gingerly touch one of the raven feathers.

  “Wow, they really went all out.”

  I sniff. “Yeah, I know. Xera’s a master,” I turn towards the shapeshifter, giving her a thumbs-up. She grins.

  “I once said you looked like a mystic when you put Sejka’s cloak on.”

  “I remember that.”

  “If only I could’ve seen you as you are now, Red,” Conall says, using his nickname for me. The one he’d come up with when he’d forgotten my name. That was so long ago now. I have to admit the nickname has kind of grown on me. It reminds me of the first time we’d really had a heart-to-heart conversation, or as close to one as you could get with this guy.

  I glance at my bare feet, attempting to hide my blush. Conall hadn’t exactly given me a compliment, but he’s good at getting my heart racing no matter what he says.

  “Skye!” Xunnu bellows from a few houses down. “The others are waiting.”

  “Okay!” I call out before turning back to Conall and grimacing. “I suck at speeches. Get ready to rescue me if they pelt me with berries.”