*Chapter 19- A Battle Ensues
“You look so beautiful tonight,” Robert said to Jennifer, stroking a piece of wayward hair away from her face. She looked up at him with deep affection and kissed him lightly. He kissed her back and pulled her closer to him, nestling her in between his legs so that she leaned back against him. Gunnar and Ahava were sitting in a similar fashion, hands intertwined, her engagement ring winking in the firelight. Jennifer looked at them, not in envy, but reminiscently. She had known she loved Robert from the moment he stumbled into her arms. She turned so she could look at her husband of twenty-something years and that's when she heard it.
An inhuman scream sounded from the edge of the woods nearby. Robert and Gunnar patted the women on the arms and left them to huddle together in fear. They clutched each other while Gunnar drew his broadsword and Robert pulled a small knife from his sock. They stood protectively in front of their women, in warrior stance, both of their wings spread wide to hide the girls from view the best they could. The scream came again, this time sounding a bit strangled and gargled towards the end. Jennifer paled to think why. She wrapped her wings tighter around Ahava, who whimpered into her chest. Jennifer stroked her head like she would when Sonja was upset. Seeing no imminent threat, Gunnar quickly turned to Ahava.
“You and Jennifer need to run, head for the castle and take shelter in their rooms. Lock the door and don't come out for anything. Do you understand?” he said, gripping her shoulders and shaking her until he could get her to agree. He kissed her and turned away, letting Robert tell Jennifer basically the same thing. They embraced quickly and then Robert and Gunnar took off for the woods, leaving the women standing there in shock.
“Ma, where's Ahava?” Sonja asked, panicked.
Jennifer looked up at her, brought back from the retelling of a story that didn't seem like it should be as horrifying to match the look on Jennifer's face.
“He got her. He's taken her.”
“Who?” Matt said.
“That Ceannard at that they ostracized, the dark haired one.”
“Colmán,” Sonja said, remembering Gunnar telling her the story of his trial and why he had been there in the first place. She sunk to the floor. He had her and he would do what he wanted with her. She could feel her heart breaking for Gunnar. She turned to Jennifer with tears in her eyes.
“Why didn't you save her? Why didn't you get her away from that animal!” She shouted at the end, but didn't mean to. Seeing the hurt on her mother's face, she scooted closer to her and apologized.
“I'm sorry, I'm sure whatever is happening out there is awful. How did he get her?”
“He pulled her from me. She slipped through my fingers,” Jennifer said, holding her splayed fingers in front of her. Sonja noticed for the first time since Jennifer arrived in a whirlwind that her knuckles were bloody and bruised. Upon further inspection, Sonja saw bruised up and down Jennifer's arms as well as missing feathers from her wings. She was a lot worse for the wear than Sonja had originally thought; she felt guilty for accusing her of not putting up a fight. Jennifer had began speaking again, but Sonja was too upset to have heard her.
She told them that she and Ahava had stood for a few moments watching the men head for the trees, and when they finally started to walk away, they saw a band of men heading towards them. They kept their heads down and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, because at that point they didn't know what was going on. Jennifer wrapped a wing protectively around Ahava and they clasped arms as they walked. Ahava had been looking at the ground most of the time they were walking, but as the men got closer, she looked up. She let out a scream that would have woken the dead, and would have collapsed were it not for Jennifer supporting her. Jennifer looked at the five men in front of her, not understanding why Ahava was so upset and not recognizing a single one of them. Ahava pulled on Jennifer's arm and begged her to leave. As they were turning away, one of the men called out to them.
“Where are ye sweet wee lasses going this time of night, eh?” an Irish accent met their ears as they turned. He grabbed Jennifer by the waist and pulled her to him. She lost her grip on Ahava, and was faced with a large expanse of chest and manly body odor. She looked up into what would be a handsome face, with his full lips and dark eyes, but there was something sinister behind it. Ahava cried out as one of the other men pulled her arms behind her. Tears streamed down her face. Jennifer turned towards the dark stranger.
“And what the hell do you mean by assaulting us like this? We're just trying to get to our room, away from whatever is going on out there,” she said, gesturing with her chin to the tree line.
“Oh aye? Almost made it,” he said, his lips curling into a devilish smile. Not liking the look of this, she tore her arms from his grasp and made for Ahava.
“No, sweetheart, you're coming with me,” the man said, making to grab for her again. She swiped at him with her wing, hoping it would knock him off balance, but he was quick. He grabbed a handful of her feathers and ripped, a sickening sound following as the feathers were torn from her wings. She screamed, which came out as more of a growl. She turned and swung at him but he caught her fist with ease, chuckling under his breath like this was a game. He pulled Jennifer close and kissed her hard on the mouth. She tasted blood and pulled away, far back enough to spit in his face. He wiped the pink-stained saliva away, and was still laughing. He pushed Jennifer aside and went for Ahava.
She was still in the grips of the man behind her and she tried everything she could to get away, but he was twice her size and twice as strong.
“So we meet again, my wee Droch-Bheart slut,” he said, venom in his words.
He kissed her on the cheek and then stepped back. He wound up and punched her full in the stomach. Jennifer went to go for him but he swiped her away with another swing of his fist, which caught her in the face. She stumbled and fell to the ground, seeing stars. She tried to get up, but the pain made her head swim. All she could do was watch helplessly. She saw him wind up for another swing, but before he could make a connection a blur of white shot into Jennifer's line of vision. It was Gunnar, it had to be. Jennifer shook her head, trying to clear it. Ahava was being dragged away kicking and screaming the man that held her and another. She heard Gunnar screaming behind her in the midst of a tussle with the dark stranger.
“Go! I'll get her, you go! Make sure the other are say-” Before he could finish, the stranger's arm was around his throat. She guessed the last word he meant to say was safe, and torn between going after Ahava and finding her daughter and husband, she took off wildly.
She knew Sonja and Matt were safe in their room and she guessed no one had made it inside yet, so she made for the woods. She tried to fly, but the stranger had done some serious damage to her wing. She streamlined her wings behind her and ran as fast as her small feet would take her. She ran to the edge of the forest praying that she would find Robert. She tripped over an exposed root and fell head-long into a puddle. In the dark, she couldn't tell what it was until she tried to wipe her hands clean and they were stained a dark color. The scent of copper pennies reached her nostrils as she brought her hands closer to her face. She screamed, suddenly realizing what it was. Out of the dark someone tried to hugh her, but she kept screaming out of shock. The disembodied hush grew into a person, a man, who grabbed her around the waist. Startled by this, she turned around and punched the unknown man full in the face. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and knew she hadn't hurt him too badly, which was good considering it was her husband.
“What are you doing here? I told you to go to the castle!” he admonished her, but a hint of relief crept into his voice as well.
She told him what had happened to Ahava and Gunnar. Robert stood stock still and listened, taking in everything she said. She finished telling him and he asked her if she was okay. She said she was until she fell in a puddle of blood just then. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark and she could see the deep lines of dismay carved into his face.
“What is it? What's wrong?” she asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
Robert grabbed her by the arms and pulled her to him. “Thandiwe is dead. So are Zekl Emin and Aki Hisakawa. I have an idea of who's attacking us, and for now their attacking council members. The kids and Rosie will be safe for now but you have to go to them, I have to take care of these people.”
“You- no, you can't! You have a duty to me, to your child, you can't go off after these, these hooligans!” she said, throwing her hands in the air in emotional frustration.
“Jennifer,” he said holding her at arms length, “my duty is to protect you, and I can't do that if you are in the thick of it. The safest place for you, any anyone without wings and with injury, is in the castle. So go, please. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
She looked him full in the face, able to see the outline of his jaw and eyebrows. She saw his mouth quirk into what was supposed to be a comforting smile, but she felt nothing but horror. Three council members were dead, what would stop them from taking Robert next?
“Go,” he said, shoving her gently towards the castle. She turned and walked a few steps, then turned back and threw her arms around his shoulders, kissing him deeply. She turned back to the castle with tears streaming down her face.
An inhuman scream sounded from the edge of the woods nearby. Robert and Gunnar patted the women on the arms and left them to huddle together in fear. They clutched each other while Gunnar drew his broadsword and Robert pulled a small knife from his sock. They stood protectively in front of their women, in warrior stance, both of their wings spread wide to hide the girls from view the best they could. The scream came again, this time sounding a bit strangled and gargled towards the end. Jennifer paled to think why. She wrapped her wings tighter around Ahava, who whimpered into her chest. Jennifer stroked her head like she would when Sonja was upset. Seeing no imminent threat, Gunnar quickly turned to Ahava.
“You and Jennifer need to run, head for the castle and take shelter in their rooms. Lock the door and don't come out for anything. Do you understand?” he said, gripping her shoulders and shaking her until he could get her to agree. He kissed her and turned away, letting Robert tell Jennifer basically the same thing. They embraced quickly and then Robert and Gunnar took off for the woods, leaving the women standing there in shock.
“Ma, where's Ahava?” Sonja asked, panicked.
Jennifer looked up at her, brought back from the retelling of a story that didn't seem like it should be as horrifying to match the look on Jennifer's face.
“He got her. He's taken her.”
“Who?” Matt said.
“That Ceannard at that they ostracized, the dark haired one.”
“Colmán,” Sonja said, remembering Gunnar telling her the story of his trial and why he had been there in the first place. She sunk to the floor. He had her and he would do what he wanted with her. She could feel her heart breaking for Gunnar. She turned to Jennifer with tears in her eyes.
“Why didn't you save her? Why didn't you get her away from that animal!” She shouted at the end, but didn't mean to. Seeing the hurt on her mother's face, she scooted closer to her and apologized.
“I'm sorry, I'm sure whatever is happening out there is awful. How did he get her?”
“He pulled her from me. She slipped through my fingers,” Jennifer said, holding her splayed fingers in front of her. Sonja noticed for the first time since Jennifer arrived in a whirlwind that her knuckles were bloody and bruised. Upon further inspection, Sonja saw bruised up and down Jennifer's arms as well as missing feathers from her wings. She was a lot worse for the wear than Sonja had originally thought; she felt guilty for accusing her of not putting up a fight. Jennifer had began speaking again, but Sonja was too upset to have heard her.
She told them that she and Ahava had stood for a few moments watching the men head for the trees, and when they finally started to walk away, they saw a band of men heading towards them. They kept their heads down and tried to look as inconspicuous as possible, because at that point they didn't know what was going on. Jennifer wrapped a wing protectively around Ahava and they clasped arms as they walked. Ahava had been looking at the ground most of the time they were walking, but as the men got closer, she looked up. She let out a scream that would have woken the dead, and would have collapsed were it not for Jennifer supporting her. Jennifer looked at the five men in front of her, not understanding why Ahava was so upset and not recognizing a single one of them. Ahava pulled on Jennifer's arm and begged her to leave. As they were turning away, one of the men called out to them.
“Where are ye sweet wee lasses going this time of night, eh?” an Irish accent met their ears as they turned. He grabbed Jennifer by the waist and pulled her to him. She lost her grip on Ahava, and was faced with a large expanse of chest and manly body odor. She looked up into what would be a handsome face, with his full lips and dark eyes, but there was something sinister behind it. Ahava cried out as one of the other men pulled her arms behind her. Tears streamed down her face. Jennifer turned towards the dark stranger.
“And what the hell do you mean by assaulting us like this? We're just trying to get to our room, away from whatever is going on out there,” she said, gesturing with her chin to the tree line.
“Oh aye? Almost made it,” he said, his lips curling into a devilish smile. Not liking the look of this, she tore her arms from his grasp and made for Ahava.
“No, sweetheart, you're coming with me,” the man said, making to grab for her again. She swiped at him with her wing, hoping it would knock him off balance, but he was quick. He grabbed a handful of her feathers and ripped, a sickening sound following as the feathers were torn from her wings. She screamed, which came out as more of a growl. She turned and swung at him but he caught her fist with ease, chuckling under his breath like this was a game. He pulled Jennifer close and kissed her hard on the mouth. She tasted blood and pulled away, far back enough to spit in his face. He wiped the pink-stained saliva away, and was still laughing. He pushed Jennifer aside and went for Ahava.
She was still in the grips of the man behind her and she tried everything she could to get away, but he was twice her size and twice as strong.
“So we meet again, my wee Droch-Bheart slut,” he said, venom in his words.
He kissed her on the cheek and then stepped back. He wound up and punched her full in the stomach. Jennifer went to go for him but he swiped her away with another swing of his fist, which caught her in the face. She stumbled and fell to the ground, seeing stars. She tried to get up, but the pain made her head swim. All she could do was watch helplessly. She saw him wind up for another swing, but before he could make a connection a blur of white shot into Jennifer's line of vision. It was Gunnar, it had to be. Jennifer shook her head, trying to clear it. Ahava was being dragged away kicking and screaming the man that held her and another. She heard Gunnar screaming behind her in the midst of a tussle with the dark stranger.
“Go! I'll get her, you go! Make sure the other are say-” Before he could finish, the stranger's arm was around his throat. She guessed the last word he meant to say was safe, and torn between going after Ahava and finding her daughter and husband, she took off wildly.
She knew Sonja and Matt were safe in their room and she guessed no one had made it inside yet, so she made for the woods. She tried to fly, but the stranger had done some serious damage to her wing. She streamlined her wings behind her and ran as fast as her small feet would take her. She ran to the edge of the forest praying that she would find Robert. She tripped over an exposed root and fell head-long into a puddle. In the dark, she couldn't tell what it was until she tried to wipe her hands clean and they were stained a dark color. The scent of copper pennies reached her nostrils as she brought her hands closer to her face. She screamed, suddenly realizing what it was. Out of the dark someone tried to hugh her, but she kept screaming out of shock. The disembodied hush grew into a person, a man, who grabbed her around the waist. Startled by this, she turned around and punched the unknown man full in the face. She heard a sharp intake of breath, and knew she hadn't hurt him too badly, which was good considering it was her husband.
“What are you doing here? I told you to go to the castle!” he admonished her, but a hint of relief crept into his voice as well.
She told him what had happened to Ahava and Gunnar. Robert stood stock still and listened, taking in everything she said. She finished telling him and he asked her if she was okay. She said she was until she fell in a puddle of blood just then. Her eyes were beginning to adjust to the dark and she could see the deep lines of dismay carved into his face.
“What is it? What's wrong?” she asked, not really wanting to know the answer.
Robert grabbed her by the arms and pulled her to him. “Thandiwe is dead. So are Zekl Emin and Aki Hisakawa. I have an idea of who's attacking us, and for now their attacking council members. The kids and Rosie will be safe for now but you have to go to them, I have to take care of these people.”
“You- no, you can't! You have a duty to me, to your child, you can't go off after these, these hooligans!” she said, throwing her hands in the air in emotional frustration.
“Jennifer,” he said holding her at arms length, “my duty is to protect you, and I can't do that if you are in the thick of it. The safest place for you, any anyone without wings and with injury, is in the castle. So go, please. I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to you.”
She looked him full in the face, able to see the outline of his jaw and eyebrows. She saw his mouth quirk into what was supposed to be a comforting smile, but she felt nothing but horror. Three council members were dead, what would stop them from taking Robert next?
“Go,” he said, shoving her gently towards the castle. She turned and walked a few steps, then turned back and threw her arms around his shoulders, kissing him deeply. She turned back to the castle with tears streaming down her face.
*20- Gerry Makes a Tough Decision
The drive back to Castle Brady was a blur. By the time they reached the gates, it was pitch dark. Just as had been planned, the gates had been left open. The car pulled to a stop outside one of the sets of giant wooden doors. Posted at the doors were two men Gerry instantly recognized as his own. Everything was going according to plan. They piled out onto the gravel pathway and made their way, slowly for Gerry's sake, to the doors. They were greeted pleasantly by the faux guards and admitted into the castle foyer.
“Why is it so dark in here?” Mabelle observed.
Gerry didn't answer but lead the way to the light emanating from the great hall. There were more faux guards standing at either end of the two crescent tables, where sat the remaining members of the Comhairleach. The empty chairs were filled by Droch-Bheart, as well as other chairs that had been placed in front of the tables. As they didn't have an official council, Gerry assumed they had created an impromptu one for the purposes of the coming days. He wondered briefly if the council would now include Droch-Bheart, but the thought was quickly pushed from his mind as he heard a commotion behind him. He turned to see his family being restrained, Jonathan squirmed a little in the grips of the boy that had accompanied Gerry to Dìomhair. Mabelle stood in shocked silence as one of the faux guards grabbed her. Dorian put up a fight. It required two guards and restraints to get him to the front of the room.
“You bloody bastard! How could you do this to us.” Gerry was surprised when those words came from a female voice. He turned to see tears streaming down his grandmother's face. He couldn't look her in the eye as he said, “Its for the better of the world.” She snorted in disapproval and began to say something else when she, and the rest of those present, were silenced bu Guiscard.
“Welcome, Dòchas people,” his voice was even and level as he spoke. “As I am sure you are now aware, this was an elaborate plot to get you all here, but mostly you, Dorian Blackburn, leader of the Dòchas people, head of Dìomhair. Is there anything you would like to say before we begin?”
“Go to hell!” Mabelle screeched as she struggled against the hands holding her.
“Remove her,” Guiscard said, motioning with the flick of a wrist. He waiting for the screaming to die down before he continued. “Moving on.”
Gerry had been offered, and gratefully accepted, a seat off to the side of the council tables. Dorian stood stalk still, looking ahead, at what, Gerry was unsure. Jonathan looked at the floor, occasionally shooting glances in Gerry's direction. Jonathan had become very hard to read over the years, Gerry had stopped trying and wasn't about to start again now, so he looked only at Guiscard.
“Your people have done our people a great injustice. You have done your own people an injustice as well.”
“How is that possible, you bleeding freak of nature?” Jonathan spat.
“Would you like to be removed as well? No? You will hold your tongue then, young man. As for you, Dorian, you have done your people the injustice of brainwashing them, making them believe something that should have stopped hundreds of years ago. You let them believe that our people are 'freaks of nature,' and that we deserve to be exterminated. The last time someone held a belief like that, six million people died at the hands of his followers. Yesterday, we lost eighteen. That blood is on your hands. If you can live with that, then you are no better of a man than he was. My family was personally ravaged by that war, and if I understand correctly, you fought against his tyranny as well.” Guiscard had begun pacing, but stopped to gauge the reaction he would get from that comment. Dorian knitted his brows and stared angrily at the floor. “That is what I thought. Could you live with yourself, being counted among men such as him? Men who ended lives, ripped families apart, destroyed entire nations?”
Dorian lifted his head at this. He looked directly into Guiscard's eyes and said, “I already am one of those men, what can change now?”
Guiscard was a bit taken aback by this but answered timely. “A lot can change. You can give up this senseless hatred-”
“It is not senseless,” Jonathan spat. “Your people have made life for my people horrific! We have your genetics, making us grow those abominations out of our backs, forcing us to preform potentially crippling surgical procedures on our youth. This is your fault.”
“Be that as it may, this is not my fault, nor any of my people, the Droch-Bheart people, or the Dòchas people. This is the product of hundreds of years of hatred over something that happened in a time when people's lives were dictated by their rulers, the kind of lives that we have grown and learned from, that we have worked so hard to not repeat. That was a time when marriages were planned, when there were peasants and kings, have we not become a more sophisticated, tolerant society?”
Dorian nodded almost imperceptibly. Jonathan lunged for him, and was quickly dragged from the rooming, screaming incoherent nonsense. Guiscard, not phased by this outburst and uninterested as to Jonathan's punishment, he turned his attention back to Dorian. “So, Dorian, what is your thinking? You seemed to be coming around.”
“I...I need time. Time to think. Time to reconsider my entire life, everything I have worked for and stood for has suddenly come crashing down around me and I'm not quite sure how to handle this right now.” He stared wide-eyed at the floor, not looking at anyone, especially not at Gerry.
“Very well. You have exactly forty-eight hours from now to do all the considering you need. At the end of the allotted time, you will be brought forth for questioning and a trial. Is this understood?”
Dorian nodded, not lifting his eyes from the floor. Guiscard nodded to the guards holding him. They began removing him from the room.
“Wait!” Gerry yelled.
The room turned its attention to him; his grandfather still wouldn't look at him. Gerry walked arduously to his grandfather, taking his face in his hands and lifting his head. Dorian still wouldn't look at Gerry. “Look at me, damn it!” Dorian's eyes lifted slowly to meet Gerry's. There was deep sorrow in their depths that broke Gerry's heart, but he needed to remain firm.
“Père, I have very good reason for doing what I'm doing. This is all for the better of the world. For the better of our family. We don't have to live with hatred in our hearts anymore, do ye understand?” He finished, searching Dorian's eyes for some type of flicker of acknowledgment. Instead Dorian looked at the floor and allowed himself to be lead away, leaving Gerry standing with his hands still raised, downtrodden.
Guiscard quietly walked over to Gerry, taking the man's hands in his. “You have done a great thing today. We will not harm your family. If we are to move to peace, we must start with peaceful proceedings. Thank you, Gerry.”
Guiscard placed Gerry's hands back at his sides, and exited the great hall, followed by the rest of the council and Droch-Bheart stand-ins, all of whom patted him on the shoulder or gave him kind words. Robert was the last to leave. He left wordlessly, then turned to look at Gerry.
“Son, sometimes the right thing isn't always the easiest thing.”
Gerry looked up at Robert and nodded.
“I know. Its for the better of the world. Our world.”
And with that he was alone.
“Why is it so dark in here?” Mabelle observed.
Gerry didn't answer but lead the way to the light emanating from the great hall. There were more faux guards standing at either end of the two crescent tables, where sat the remaining members of the Comhairleach. The empty chairs were filled by Droch-Bheart, as well as other chairs that had been placed in front of the tables. As they didn't have an official council, Gerry assumed they had created an impromptu one for the purposes of the coming days. He wondered briefly if the council would now include Droch-Bheart, but the thought was quickly pushed from his mind as he heard a commotion behind him. He turned to see his family being restrained, Jonathan squirmed a little in the grips of the boy that had accompanied Gerry to Dìomhair. Mabelle stood in shocked silence as one of the faux guards grabbed her. Dorian put up a fight. It required two guards and restraints to get him to the front of the room.
“You bloody bastard! How could you do this to us.” Gerry was surprised when those words came from a female voice. He turned to see tears streaming down his grandmother's face. He couldn't look her in the eye as he said, “Its for the better of the world.” She snorted in disapproval and began to say something else when she, and the rest of those present, were silenced bu Guiscard.
“Welcome, Dòchas people,” his voice was even and level as he spoke. “As I am sure you are now aware, this was an elaborate plot to get you all here, but mostly you, Dorian Blackburn, leader of the Dòchas people, head of Dìomhair. Is there anything you would like to say before we begin?”
“Go to hell!” Mabelle screeched as she struggled against the hands holding her.
“Remove her,” Guiscard said, motioning with the flick of a wrist. He waiting for the screaming to die down before he continued. “Moving on.”
Gerry had been offered, and gratefully accepted, a seat off to the side of the council tables. Dorian stood stalk still, looking ahead, at what, Gerry was unsure. Jonathan looked at the floor, occasionally shooting glances in Gerry's direction. Jonathan had become very hard to read over the years, Gerry had stopped trying and wasn't about to start again now, so he looked only at Guiscard.
“Your people have done our people a great injustice. You have done your own people an injustice as well.”
“How is that possible, you bleeding freak of nature?” Jonathan spat.
“Would you like to be removed as well? No? You will hold your tongue then, young man. As for you, Dorian, you have done your people the injustice of brainwashing them, making them believe something that should have stopped hundreds of years ago. You let them believe that our people are 'freaks of nature,' and that we deserve to be exterminated. The last time someone held a belief like that, six million people died at the hands of his followers. Yesterday, we lost eighteen. That blood is on your hands. If you can live with that, then you are no better of a man than he was. My family was personally ravaged by that war, and if I understand correctly, you fought against his tyranny as well.” Guiscard had begun pacing, but stopped to gauge the reaction he would get from that comment. Dorian knitted his brows and stared angrily at the floor. “That is what I thought. Could you live with yourself, being counted among men such as him? Men who ended lives, ripped families apart, destroyed entire nations?”
Dorian lifted his head at this. He looked directly into Guiscard's eyes and said, “I already am one of those men, what can change now?”
Guiscard was a bit taken aback by this but answered timely. “A lot can change. You can give up this senseless hatred-”
“It is not senseless,” Jonathan spat. “Your people have made life for my people horrific! We have your genetics, making us grow those abominations out of our backs, forcing us to preform potentially crippling surgical procedures on our youth. This is your fault.”
“Be that as it may, this is not my fault, nor any of my people, the Droch-Bheart people, or the Dòchas people. This is the product of hundreds of years of hatred over something that happened in a time when people's lives were dictated by their rulers, the kind of lives that we have grown and learned from, that we have worked so hard to not repeat. That was a time when marriages were planned, when there were peasants and kings, have we not become a more sophisticated, tolerant society?”
Dorian nodded almost imperceptibly. Jonathan lunged for him, and was quickly dragged from the rooming, screaming incoherent nonsense. Guiscard, not phased by this outburst and uninterested as to Jonathan's punishment, he turned his attention back to Dorian. “So, Dorian, what is your thinking? You seemed to be coming around.”
“I...I need time. Time to think. Time to reconsider my entire life, everything I have worked for and stood for has suddenly come crashing down around me and I'm not quite sure how to handle this right now.” He stared wide-eyed at the floor, not looking at anyone, especially not at Gerry.
“Very well. You have exactly forty-eight hours from now to do all the considering you need. At the end of the allotted time, you will be brought forth for questioning and a trial. Is this understood?”
Dorian nodded, not lifting his eyes from the floor. Guiscard nodded to the guards holding him. They began removing him from the room.
“Wait!” Gerry yelled.
The room turned its attention to him; his grandfather still wouldn't look at him. Gerry walked arduously to his grandfather, taking his face in his hands and lifting his head. Dorian still wouldn't look at Gerry. “Look at me, damn it!” Dorian's eyes lifted slowly to meet Gerry's. There was deep sorrow in their depths that broke Gerry's heart, but he needed to remain firm.
“Père, I have very good reason for doing what I'm doing. This is all for the better of the world. For the better of our family. We don't have to live with hatred in our hearts anymore, do ye understand?” He finished, searching Dorian's eyes for some type of flicker of acknowledgment. Instead Dorian looked at the floor and allowed himself to be lead away, leaving Gerry standing with his hands still raised, downtrodden.
Guiscard quietly walked over to Gerry, taking the man's hands in his. “You have done a great thing today. We will not harm your family. If we are to move to peace, we must start with peaceful proceedings. Thank you, Gerry.”
Guiscard placed Gerry's hands back at his sides, and exited the great hall, followed by the rest of the council and Droch-Bheart stand-ins, all of whom patted him on the shoulder or gave him kind words. Robert was the last to leave. He left wordlessly, then turned to look at Gerry.
“Son, sometimes the right thing isn't always the easiest thing.”
Gerry looked up at Robert and nodded.
“I know. Its for the better of the world. Our world.”
And with that he was alone.
*Chapter 21- Dorian Goes to Trial
One of the doors had closed, but was swung back open by a Feachd guard. He preceded two other Feachd, Dorian Blackburn restrained between them, and a fourth, who closed the doors gently behind him. Dorian grunted and pulled his arms, trying to release the grasp of the soldiers holding him, but they only tightened it and pulled his arms further behind his back. He yelped in pain, and Sonja saw Gerry flinch as if he were going to get up. He didn’t, and instead looked at the floor. Dorian’s eyes were wild, his face contorted. His gaze found Gerry and he growled like a chained animal.
“This is your fault! You couldn’t even do a damned thing right! You never could. You’re such a waste of talent and a shame to the family. You are NO grandson of mine!” He screamed across the hall, just coherently enough that Gerry sunk lower in his seat, not making eye contact. “Oh, you’re not even going to look at me? Coward! Liar! You deceptive, traitorous little snake, just like that bastard brother of yours!”
Gerry’s head snapped up and he was on his feet in a flash. The Feachd not restraining Dorian looked quickly to Guiscard, who motioned for them to be still.
“You,” Gerry said through gritted teeth; Sonja saw the muscles in his face work as he controlled himself, and admirably so. “You are the reason we are here right now. Had you not brainwashed me, your crazy wife, and the innocent people of your village, we would all be sitting at home, by the fire, sipping tea and eating biscuits, happily ever after. But no. You had to drag all of these people into this,” he said, gesturing widely, encapsulating the whole room. “Because of you, eighteen people are dead. Eighteen people will never grow old, their families will never see them again, DEAD!”
Gerry held his hands in front of him in exasperation, his eyes wide, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His words elicited seemingly no reaction from his grandfather, until suddenly he made a low, guttural sound in his throat and spit forcefully in Gerry’s face. A collective gasp rang off of the walls. Guiscard reacted quickly and had the Feachd lead Dorian, laughing maniacally, away from Gerry, who stood in clear shock, spit dripping from his chin. Even more shocking than the spit, was Gunnar swooping down from the rafters and handing Gerry a piece of cloth.
“I know we’re born enemies, mate, but that’s just not on.”
Gerry nodded in thanks and acknowledgment of Gunnar’s action, smiling weakly as he wiped his face. Gunnar gave him a short nod and flew back up to his roost. Gerry took his seat back along the wall, the men on either side of him patting his arm in condolence. He slouched back in his seat, staring ahead blankly. Guiscard took this as the opportune moment to begin the hearing.
“Please all rise as the convicted is brought forward.”
Dorian nodded and waved, like a king greeting his subjects. He had clearly had some kind of psychotic break and was out of his mind. Animals aren’t meant to be caged, Sonja thought cynically to herself. He smiled widely as he reached the front, clearly quite pleased with himself.
“This is your fault! You couldn’t even do a damned thing right! You never could. You’re such a waste of talent and a shame to the family. You are NO grandson of mine!” He screamed across the hall, just coherently enough that Gerry sunk lower in his seat, not making eye contact. “Oh, you’re not even going to look at me? Coward! Liar! You deceptive, traitorous little snake, just like that bastard brother of yours!”
Gerry’s head snapped up and he was on his feet in a flash. The Feachd not restraining Dorian looked quickly to Guiscard, who motioned for them to be still.
“You,” Gerry said through gritted teeth; Sonja saw the muscles in his face work as he controlled himself, and admirably so. “You are the reason we are here right now. Had you not brainwashed me, your crazy wife, and the innocent people of your village, we would all be sitting at home, by the fire, sipping tea and eating biscuits, happily ever after. But no. You had to drag all of these people into this,” he said, gesturing widely, encapsulating the whole room. “Because of you, eighteen people are dead. Eighteen people will never grow old, their families will never see them again, DEAD!”
Gerry held his hands in front of him in exasperation, his eyes wide, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His words elicited seemingly no reaction from his grandfather, until suddenly he made a low, guttural sound in his throat and spit forcefully in Gerry’s face. A collective gasp rang off of the walls. Guiscard reacted quickly and had the Feachd lead Dorian, laughing maniacally, away from Gerry, who stood in clear shock, spit dripping from his chin. Even more shocking than the spit, was Gunnar swooping down from the rafters and handing Gerry a piece of cloth.
“I know we’re born enemies, mate, but that’s just not on.”
Gerry nodded in thanks and acknowledgment of Gunnar’s action, smiling weakly as he wiped his face. Gunnar gave him a short nod and flew back up to his roost. Gerry took his seat back along the wall, the men on either side of him patting his arm in condolence. He slouched back in his seat, staring ahead blankly. Guiscard took this as the opportune moment to begin the hearing.
“Please all rise as the convicted is brought forward.”
Dorian nodded and waved, like a king greeting his subjects. He had clearly had some kind of psychotic break and was out of his mind. Animals aren’t meant to be caged, Sonja thought cynically to herself. He smiled widely as he reached the front, clearly quite pleased with himself.
*Chapter 22- Sonja has made her decision; Gerry comes to apologize
On another part of the grounds, Matt and Sonja walked hand in hand, enjoying the balmy July air. They reached the edge of the glistening loch behind the castle and found a large flat rock to lie on. The gentle waves lapped the edge of the rock, making a calm, trickling noise. Matt lay on his back, his hands behind his head, eyes closed. Sonja was lying on his chest, listening to the combination of the water and his heartbeat, which were both slow and rhythmic, lulling her to the edge of sleep. He moved slightly under her; he was also on the edge of sleep as he raised his hand to stroke her hair. He ran his fingers through her thick, dark mane, letting his hand rest on the back of her head just where the top of her spine met the bottom of her skull. He often liked to sleep this way; he had once said it made him believe he was protecting her in some small way. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, smiling.
“What?” she asked, smiling back.
“Oh nothin’, it’s just…if someone had told me six months ago that I’d nearly be killed for a society I didn’a even know I was a part of, I’d have believed him. But if that same person told me after all that I’d be lyin’ here with ye, I’d have thought them crazy.”
Sonja slid her body up his chest to kiss him and he wrapped his arms around her waist. As they kissed, she thought of everything they had been through to get where they were, so she pulled him in a little closer, and kissed him a little deeper. His lips curled into a smile in the short pause between kisses. She pulled back and stroked his full bottom lip with her thumb. He closed his eyes in blissful response to her touch.
“I love you,” she whispered, not looking at him but toying with his lip.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and sat up, her legs wrapped around his hips, his legs crossed Indian-style under hers.
“Do you?” he asked, searching the depths of her eyes. “Tell me true?”
She placed her hands on either side of his face, staring directly into his crystalline blue eyes, nearly matching the blue of her own, and kissed him lightly, their lips barely touching.
“Yes, more than anything in the world.”
He pulled her into a tight hug, her head fitting perfectly under his chin. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He watched it fall from the end of his chin and roll into Sonja’s dark hair. He followed it down one long strand, off the end, and on to the rock, splattering and refracting light from the setting sun like a million tiny diamonds. He wasn’t quite sure why he had got all teary-eyed, but he figured it was because the phase of loneliness in his life was over, she was all he wanted, all he needed, and he could finally call her his. And even better, she loved him.
They sat like this for some time before a thought struck him.
“What are ye gonna do about the whole council deal?” he asked, holding her away from him.
She sat back on her hands, considering. “Well, I would love to finish school-“
“Uni,” he corrected her.
“American,” she replied sarcastically. “However, I feel like this is my life now. These are my people, this is who I am. My parents grew up here and it was only because of me that they wanted- needed, to leave. They wanted to give me a ‘normal’ life, but in reality they should have just stayed in Maiseach, let me grow up there, and none of this would have happened.”
“Ye can’t blame yerself for what happened, Sonja. They would have found yous all eventually, whether it was then or ten years from now. Back to the matter at hand here; are ye gonna move to Maiseach?”
“Probably. It makes the most sense, especially since I want to be on the council.” Matt let out a slow breath at this, whether it was disappointment or what, Sonja wasn’t quite sure. “What?”
“Are ye going to take me into consideration at all?”
Sonja, a little taken aback by this question, sat forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, looking into his eyes again. “Of course. What’d you think I was just going to leave you in Stirling, in the clutches of Shaelyn White?!”
He smirked. “Still sore about that, aye?”
“No…maybe…okay, a little, but that’s besides the point!”
“At least she didn’t try to wipe out half the people I know.”
Sonja narrowed her eyes at his reference to Gerry and he grabbed her elbows to hold her still so she wouldn’t punch him like he thought she might. He smiled at her, cracking her faux-tough façade, and she smiled, too. They kissed as they had before, passionately, but were interrupted by the snap of a twig behind them. They pulled apart quickly and sat next to each other on the rock, as if they were young children caught with their hands in the sweets jar. Gerry poked his head slowly from behind a tree and gave a half smile.
“Sorry, am I interrupting? I can go…”
Matt looked to Sonja, who wore the same look of confusion he was sure he did. “What do ye want, mate?”
“I would just like to speak with Sonja, if that would be okay with you?”
Sonja nodded and Matt held his hand out to help her up. He had his back to Gerry, who was still a few feet away, and asked Sonja if she was really okay with this.
“Yes, I will be fine. Gunnar taught me some moves, don’t worry,” she said in the calmest voice she could muster.
Matt nodded and kissed her on the cheek, giving Gerry the dirtiest look he could as he walked past. Gerry kept the smile on his face and he walked towards Sonja. She squared her shoulders defensively and stuck her hands deep in the pocket of her jeans as she started walking.
“Coming?”
“Yes, of course,” Gerry said, taking a few long strides to catch up with her.
“So, what would you like to talk to me about?”
“What do you think?”
“An apology would be nice.”
“That was the plan.”
“What?” she asked, smiling back.
“Oh nothin’, it’s just…if someone had told me six months ago that I’d nearly be killed for a society I didn’a even know I was a part of, I’d have believed him. But if that same person told me after all that I’d be lyin’ here with ye, I’d have thought them crazy.”
Sonja slid her body up his chest to kiss him and he wrapped his arms around her waist. As they kissed, she thought of everything they had been through to get where they were, so she pulled him in a little closer, and kissed him a little deeper. His lips curled into a smile in the short pause between kisses. She pulled back and stroked his full bottom lip with her thumb. He closed his eyes in blissful response to her touch.
“I love you,” she whispered, not looking at him but toying with his lip.
He grabbed her by the shoulders and sat up, her legs wrapped around his hips, his legs crossed Indian-style under hers.
“Do you?” he asked, searching the depths of her eyes. “Tell me true?”
She placed her hands on either side of his face, staring directly into his crystalline blue eyes, nearly matching the blue of her own, and kissed him lightly, their lips barely touching.
“Yes, more than anything in the world.”
He pulled her into a tight hug, her head fitting perfectly under his chin. A single tear rolled down his cheek. He watched it fall from the end of his chin and roll into Sonja’s dark hair. He followed it down one long strand, off the end, and on to the rock, splattering and refracting light from the setting sun like a million tiny diamonds. He wasn’t quite sure why he had got all teary-eyed, but he figured it was because the phase of loneliness in his life was over, she was all he wanted, all he needed, and he could finally call her his. And even better, she loved him.
They sat like this for some time before a thought struck him.
“What are ye gonna do about the whole council deal?” he asked, holding her away from him.
She sat back on her hands, considering. “Well, I would love to finish school-“
“Uni,” he corrected her.
“American,” she replied sarcastically. “However, I feel like this is my life now. These are my people, this is who I am. My parents grew up here and it was only because of me that they wanted- needed, to leave. They wanted to give me a ‘normal’ life, but in reality they should have just stayed in Maiseach, let me grow up there, and none of this would have happened.”
“Ye can’t blame yerself for what happened, Sonja. They would have found yous all eventually, whether it was then or ten years from now. Back to the matter at hand here; are ye gonna move to Maiseach?”
“Probably. It makes the most sense, especially since I want to be on the council.” Matt let out a slow breath at this, whether it was disappointment or what, Sonja wasn’t quite sure. “What?”
“Are ye going to take me into consideration at all?”
Sonja, a little taken aback by this question, sat forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, looking into his eyes again. “Of course. What’d you think I was just going to leave you in Stirling, in the clutches of Shaelyn White?!”
He smirked. “Still sore about that, aye?”
“No…maybe…okay, a little, but that’s besides the point!”
“At least she didn’t try to wipe out half the people I know.”
Sonja narrowed her eyes at his reference to Gerry and he grabbed her elbows to hold her still so she wouldn’t punch him like he thought she might. He smiled at her, cracking her faux-tough façade, and she smiled, too. They kissed as they had before, passionately, but were interrupted by the snap of a twig behind them. They pulled apart quickly and sat next to each other on the rock, as if they were young children caught with their hands in the sweets jar. Gerry poked his head slowly from behind a tree and gave a half smile.
“Sorry, am I interrupting? I can go…”
Matt looked to Sonja, who wore the same look of confusion he was sure he did. “What do ye want, mate?”
“I would just like to speak with Sonja, if that would be okay with you?”
Sonja nodded and Matt held his hand out to help her up. He had his back to Gerry, who was still a few feet away, and asked Sonja if she was really okay with this.
“Yes, I will be fine. Gunnar taught me some moves, don’t worry,” she said in the calmest voice she could muster.
Matt nodded and kissed her on the cheek, giving Gerry the dirtiest look he could as he walked past. Gerry kept the smile on his face and he walked towards Sonja. She squared her shoulders defensively and stuck her hands deep in the pocket of her jeans as she started walking.
“Coming?”
“Yes, of course,” Gerry said, taking a few long strides to catch up with her.
“So, what would you like to talk to me about?”
“What do you think?”
“An apology would be nice.”
“That was the plan.”
* Chapter 23- Gerry gives another speech
Although it was rhetorical question, Gerry stood to answer. Guiscard was not expecting this, his head twitching slightly like a very large, confused crow. He gestured for Gerry to come forward and address the room equally. Gerry stepped into the middle of the room in a way that he could maneuver his body between the crescent tables and the people seated in the rows. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to gather his thoughts. He let out an exasperated sigh and Sonja saw tears start to form in the corner of his eye. She looked around to see if anyone else noticed, but even if they had, no one would acknowledge it. This was an emotional situation, not one to draw attention to.
“The Dochàs people are not bad people-” he was cut off by a scoff from somewhere at the back of the room.
“Silence!” Guiscard bellowed from the top crescent. “If we are to have any kind of order between us, we must respect and listen to each other. Please continue.”
Gerry nodded and turned once more to address the room.
“We are not bad people. People are not born into a mindset, they are made that way. The best example of this is the German people during World War II. They were heavily brainwashed by arguably the best speaker in history. Those soldiers and regular men and women would have never done the atrocious things they had had they not been influenced by a higher authority, and convincing one at that. My grandfather is one of those types of people. Much like Hitler felt he had been wronged by his father, Dorian Blackburn felt he had been wronged in some way by the Sgiathalaich and Droch-Bheart people. For years he had been planning this attack, and for years we had been training for it, unbeknown to us. We knew we were training for something big, and I personally had been trained as a Maor-Rìgh−a death-dealer. I’m not proud of the things I have done, the families I have ruined, the lives I have ended, but I didn’t know anything else. I lost my parents very young and was sent to a strange place−Dìomhair−in the Highlands, away from everyone I knew and thrown into this society that I had no notion of, only that we visited once a year. I didn’t know any better when my grandfather told me there were bad people with wings who will try to kill me if I don’t kill them first. When everyone else around you believes the same thing, it must be inherently true. And when you’re new somewhere and you have nothing else, who are you to question them and their beliefs?
“The goal was the wipe out our closest threat. We knew there was others out there like you lot, but none so close. The Wings Festival was the ideal time to attack, as your defenses would be down. Since the last Féill four years ago, my grandfather has been collecting intell from outcasts and bottom feeders who would give it up for a fiver. This plan has been in the works for longer than that, though, but he needed to wait for my experience and for me to come of age. He then got a bonus advantage when my brother decided to help. With his military background, my grandfather’s psychotic mind, and my knowledge of your people, we would be unstoppable. Or so we thought. Regardless of all that, I’m here now and I want to rectify everything of the past and move forward together. The goal was to destroy your societies, but I see now that we are not different from one another; we have the same ancestors, we’re made of the same stuff, and when it comes down to it, we all bleed red.”
With that final sweeping statement, he turned on his heels, his face a mix of emotions, with determination at the forefront. Sonja’s own emotions welled up inside her and she clapped twice before realizing no one else was following along. They all stared at her and she slumped in her chair, remembering suddenly the nostalgic feeling of embarrassment from another time, only months ago, in her first English class with Gerry, before everything changed. The moment seemed to drag on until directly behind her she heard a clapping noise, followed by more, and then the rest of the room followed suit. She sat up, back straight and confident once more. Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all. The clapping continued for a moment before Guiscard stood and silenced the crowd with a sweep of his arms. He stood slowly, his wings twitching to keep his balance, showing his age. He was still robust in his old age though and Sonja chalked it up to the humidity getting to his joints.
“The Dochàs people are not bad people-” he was cut off by a scoff from somewhere at the back of the room.
“Silence!” Guiscard bellowed from the top crescent. “If we are to have any kind of order between us, we must respect and listen to each other. Please continue.”
Gerry nodded and turned once more to address the room.
“We are not bad people. People are not born into a mindset, they are made that way. The best example of this is the German people during World War II. They were heavily brainwashed by arguably the best speaker in history. Those soldiers and regular men and women would have never done the atrocious things they had had they not been influenced by a higher authority, and convincing one at that. My grandfather is one of those types of people. Much like Hitler felt he had been wronged by his father, Dorian Blackburn felt he had been wronged in some way by the Sgiathalaich and Droch-Bheart people. For years he had been planning this attack, and for years we had been training for it, unbeknown to us. We knew we were training for something big, and I personally had been trained as a Maor-Rìgh−a death-dealer. I’m not proud of the things I have done, the families I have ruined, the lives I have ended, but I didn’t know anything else. I lost my parents very young and was sent to a strange place−Dìomhair−in the Highlands, away from everyone I knew and thrown into this society that I had no notion of, only that we visited once a year. I didn’t know any better when my grandfather told me there were bad people with wings who will try to kill me if I don’t kill them first. When everyone else around you believes the same thing, it must be inherently true. And when you’re new somewhere and you have nothing else, who are you to question them and their beliefs?
“The goal was the wipe out our closest threat. We knew there was others out there like you lot, but none so close. The Wings Festival was the ideal time to attack, as your defenses would be down. Since the last Féill four years ago, my grandfather has been collecting intell from outcasts and bottom feeders who would give it up for a fiver. This plan has been in the works for longer than that, though, but he needed to wait for my experience and for me to come of age. He then got a bonus advantage when my brother decided to help. With his military background, my grandfather’s psychotic mind, and my knowledge of your people, we would be unstoppable. Or so we thought. Regardless of all that, I’m here now and I want to rectify everything of the past and move forward together. The goal was to destroy your societies, but I see now that we are not different from one another; we have the same ancestors, we’re made of the same stuff, and when it comes down to it, we all bleed red.”
With that final sweeping statement, he turned on his heels, his face a mix of emotions, with determination at the forefront. Sonja’s own emotions welled up inside her and she clapped twice before realizing no one else was following along. They all stared at her and she slumped in her chair, remembering suddenly the nostalgic feeling of embarrassment from another time, only months ago, in her first English class with Gerry, before everything changed. The moment seemed to drag on until directly behind her she heard a clapping noise, followed by more, and then the rest of the room followed suit. She sat up, back straight and confident once more. Maybe she wasn’t crazy after all. The clapping continued for a moment before Guiscard stood and silenced the crowd with a sweep of his arms. He stood slowly, his wings twitching to keep his balance, showing his age. He was still robust in his old age though and Sonja chalked it up to the humidity getting to his joints.
*Chapter 24- Gunnar explains
Gunnar chomped into a particularly sour apple, his face screwed up as the Granny Smith assaulted his taste buds. Sonja nearly spat out her own, not so tart, apple as he gulped water.
“Bleugh!” he grunted as he tossed the perpetrating fruit into the woods.
“That bad, huh?” Sonja said between giggles.
Gunnar gave a her a side-long stare that said, “I would throttle you if I could.” She continued to laugh and he cracked a smile. “Yes, little fledgling, keep laughing. See what happens when you get your wings and haven't the slightest clue how to use them. I shall have the last laugh then, me thinks!”
“I'm guessing it really isn't that hard...” she replied through a mouthful of apple.
“Oh yes, dear, you click your heels together three times and wish for home. No, silly girl. You need to focus. You'll have two new limbs essentially. It will be like learning how to walk as an infant. You're going to fall, a lot, but that's why I'm here. You're going to need to strengthen those tiny little shoulders of yours. Oof!” Gunnar fell to the side after being struck by Sonja's apple core projectile. “I retract my previous statement, and replace that with the fact that you've got a wicked arm! Where'd you learn to throw like that?”
“Middle school softball, MVP all three years,” she said smugly, arms crossed over her chest.
“Middle school? Which is the equivalent of what here?”
“Primary school maybe? Or high school? I don't know actually, but we start when we're eleven.”
“Ah right, well in Maiseach we start high school at twelve.”
“So you have schools in Maiseach?” Sonja asked, genuinely curious.
“Yes,” Gunnar replied, not caring to hide the snark in his tone, leaning back on his hands. He saw the surprised look on her face and realized she wasn't joking. “Oh, you weren't having a laugh, you were actually asking?”
“Yes.”
“There are three schools in Maiseach- Clan MacIntosh Primary School, Graham MacKenzie High School, and Beathan Kinnaird Academy of Warriors.”
“Wow, warriors, huh? That sounds pretty epic. Is that where you went?”
“Yes, miss, I certainly did. You can't join the Feachd if you haven't gone there first. They educate you not only in military tactics and techniques, but also in the history of our military and our involvement in various world conflicts, which are surprising in number.”
Sonja sat for a moment, contemplating. She knew she had heard that name somewhere before, but wasn't sure where. “What are you confused about?” Gunnar broke her train of focus.
“Beathan Kinnaird, I'm wondering where I would have heard his name before. Reminds me of Icarus.”
“Your father, I suspect, would have told you bed time stories as a child, would he not?”
Sonja's eyes went wide as suddenly everything hit her; a big Mac truck of memories rolled over her and it all began to make sense.
“You are so right!” She stood up suddenly and began pacing the soft-packed forest floor. Gunnar clasped his hands around his knees and watched her in interest as she began making tracks in the previously untouched ground.
“Are you going to let me into your world or are you going to continue walking in circles until you've made your way to China?”
“You can't get to China, you'd hit the core first.”
Gunnar narrowed his eyes at her, “You know what I mean!”
She finally came to a halt and perched herself in the U-bend of an ancient tree. She rubbed her temples; she had been remembering so hard her actual brain felt like it hurt. “I do remember that story and others like it. My father did tell me all about Beathan, and Sgiathalaich, and how Sgiathalaich and Droch-Bheart came to be, but I obviously didn't realize the significance of it at the time. This is all so crazy! I've known about this all along and hadn't the slightest clue. Obviously because who would think that you-” she gestured to Gunnar, who pointed to himself and looked around in mock confusion. She glared at him and continued, “You, you winged thing, would be real!”
“I resent that statement,” he said, holding one finger up. “I am very much real, and I think winged things are bats and birds. I am the closest thing to an angel you'll ever meet.”
“Hardly. However, my father told me about your origins, as well, that you are in fact fallen angels?”
“Well now, let us not get too far ahead of ourselves here. I was merely making a joke, however that is the speculation, yes, along with evolutionary anomalies and science experiments gone wrong.”
“Which means...” she trailed off and began pacing again.
“Which means...?” Gunnar echoed her.
“There's more like us out there?”
“Oh of course, thousands, maybe millions more.”
“Are we all hidden away like this?” she gestured widely to the forest around her.
“Why yes, we are,” he said matter-of-factly, as if that were a fact that were obvious and she should know already.
“Bleugh!” he grunted as he tossed the perpetrating fruit into the woods.
“That bad, huh?” Sonja said between giggles.
Gunnar gave a her a side-long stare that said, “I would throttle you if I could.” She continued to laugh and he cracked a smile. “Yes, little fledgling, keep laughing. See what happens when you get your wings and haven't the slightest clue how to use them. I shall have the last laugh then, me thinks!”
“I'm guessing it really isn't that hard...” she replied through a mouthful of apple.
“Oh yes, dear, you click your heels together three times and wish for home. No, silly girl. You need to focus. You'll have two new limbs essentially. It will be like learning how to walk as an infant. You're going to fall, a lot, but that's why I'm here. You're going to need to strengthen those tiny little shoulders of yours. Oof!” Gunnar fell to the side after being struck by Sonja's apple core projectile. “I retract my previous statement, and replace that with the fact that you've got a wicked arm! Where'd you learn to throw like that?”
“Middle school softball, MVP all three years,” she said smugly, arms crossed over her chest.
“Middle school? Which is the equivalent of what here?”
“Primary school maybe? Or high school? I don't know actually, but we start when we're eleven.”
“Ah right, well in Maiseach we start high school at twelve.”
“So you have schools in Maiseach?” Sonja asked, genuinely curious.
“Yes,” Gunnar replied, not caring to hide the snark in his tone, leaning back on his hands. He saw the surprised look on her face and realized she wasn't joking. “Oh, you weren't having a laugh, you were actually asking?”
“Yes.”
“There are three schools in Maiseach- Clan MacIntosh Primary School, Graham MacKenzie High School, and Beathan Kinnaird Academy of Warriors.”
“Wow, warriors, huh? That sounds pretty epic. Is that where you went?”
“Yes, miss, I certainly did. You can't join the Feachd if you haven't gone there first. They educate you not only in military tactics and techniques, but also in the history of our military and our involvement in various world conflicts, which are surprising in number.”
Sonja sat for a moment, contemplating. She knew she had heard that name somewhere before, but wasn't sure where. “What are you confused about?” Gunnar broke her train of focus.
“Beathan Kinnaird, I'm wondering where I would have heard his name before. Reminds me of Icarus.”
“Your father, I suspect, would have told you bed time stories as a child, would he not?”
Sonja's eyes went wide as suddenly everything hit her; a big Mac truck of memories rolled over her and it all began to make sense.
“You are so right!” She stood up suddenly and began pacing the soft-packed forest floor. Gunnar clasped his hands around his knees and watched her in interest as she began making tracks in the previously untouched ground.
“Are you going to let me into your world or are you going to continue walking in circles until you've made your way to China?”
“You can't get to China, you'd hit the core first.”
Gunnar narrowed his eyes at her, “You know what I mean!”
She finally came to a halt and perched herself in the U-bend of an ancient tree. She rubbed her temples; she had been remembering so hard her actual brain felt like it hurt. “I do remember that story and others like it. My father did tell me all about Beathan, and Sgiathalaich, and how Sgiathalaich and Droch-Bheart came to be, but I obviously didn't realize the significance of it at the time. This is all so crazy! I've known about this all along and hadn't the slightest clue. Obviously because who would think that you-” she gestured to Gunnar, who pointed to himself and looked around in mock confusion. She glared at him and continued, “You, you winged thing, would be real!”
“I resent that statement,” he said, holding one finger up. “I am very much real, and I think winged things are bats and birds. I am the closest thing to an angel you'll ever meet.”
“Hardly. However, my father told me about your origins, as well, that you are in fact fallen angels?”
“Well now, let us not get too far ahead of ourselves here. I was merely making a joke, however that is the speculation, yes, along with evolutionary anomalies and science experiments gone wrong.”
“Which means...” she trailed off and began pacing again.
“Which means...?” Gunnar echoed her.
“There's more like us out there?”
“Oh of course, thousands, maybe millions more.”
“Are we all hidden away like this?” she gestured widely to the forest around her.
“Why yes, we are,” he said matter-of-factly, as if that were a fact that were obvious and she should know already.