Witch Clan: Warriors! by John Stormm (good book club books txt) 📕

lieu of some sort of report card on my grandson's progress?" she asked suspiciously.

"That and a good deal more," the Master said enigmatically. "The High Council of the Sidhe requests the very honor of your presence at our court. You are to be one of a very few humans to ever have set foot there and more will accompany you upon your arrival."

"Then this is no light matter for the Sidhe to show such a drastic change of heart," she commented pointedly.

"I will not lie to you, my lady," the Master replied. "These are grave times indeed for all the realms, but take heart in that there is most certainly a light at the end of the tunnel. We are not at liberty to discuss this here. Would you accompany me to the Palace?"

"Your charm and my curiosity overwhelm me, my lord," she said smiling. "Let's be on our way at once. Will this humble dress and apron be appropriate?"

"Emma of the Silver Lock," Shabriri replied, "the Sidhe do not recognize you for your regal clothing but for your regal heart. Leave the gowns and robes to those of us who excel in such things. We beg of you for those things we lack or we would not so much as ask at all."

The Master could well have been the penultimate Irishman with his left handed flattery. She wondered and fretted not a little during her ride through the Summerlands to the Palace of the High Council. The Sidhe were normally a very aloof race in its rare dealings with humanity. Truly, if there were any other way to get whatever it was they wanted rather than ask a human for anything, that is the way they could be predicted to go. A witch of the blood was another story to be sure. Such were almost fanatically inclined never to break an oath or bond with any creature. Being the matriarch of her clan, Emma was worried as to what kind of awful commitment she might be required to live up to and what its ultimate cost might be. Would she be forced to give up her grandson again?

It was only moments before the lacework ivory and alabaster spires of the Sidhe capitol came into view above the magnificently ancient treetops. The sheer beauty of them wrenched at her heart like an unrequited love. The coach soon glided to a stop before the white and silver laced marble columns of the Pool of the Moon. A crystalline resonance sang lightly through the airy expanse as the courtiers announced their arrival to the ageless personages assembled around the still, circular pool that clearly reflected the sharpened image of the full moon in its mirrored surface inspite of the daytime hour. She reminded herself that such were the stuff of dreams.

“Has the aboriginal human been located as yet?” an Elder asked of the Pool.

A pair of luminous yellow eyes peered back at them all from the depths of the Pool and Coyote’s voice came in a low growl.

“Have a care how you would treat your guests fair ones,” the Trickster replied, “The very help you seek might take offense at being referred to in such a deprecating manner.”

“We have no desire to offend, Wise One,” an ancient Sidhe woman responded. “I am the Eldritch Siara of this Council. If anything, it is his aboriginal ties to his land that holds him highest in our personal esteem.”

“His name is Little Fox,” Trickster replied, “the great grandson of Sky Woman. The Akwesasne recognize no royalty, but if they did, he would be a prince among his people. He will respect you as you respect others. Stiffen your necks and he will show you his back. Our kind have no animosity towards the fabled Sidhe. How our relations fare will be contingent on what you show us out rightly. Here is where he rests this night. Treat him honorably.”

The reflection in the Pool changed to a wide babbling stream of crystal clear water and a man standing in the water up to his thighs flicking a flexible rod like a buggy whip. In but a moment the image changed to the fullness of the man standing in the sacred Pool reeling a feathered lure back to himself as he blinked at the assembly surrounding his fishing site.

“I, uh, don’t suppose any of you could tell me what the rainbows are hitting on in these parts, eh?” John Little Fox said a little self consciously.

“Hail to the mighty hero of the Mohawks,” Eldritch Siara intoned in her rich alto voice.

“You, uh, can just call me John,” he replied blushing, “if it’s all the same to you.”

“No,” Emma responded, stepping forward for him to see, “it is not the same at all. The Sidhe are not known among us for stopping for a friendly chat with humans. The fact we are here means something terribly important is afoot.”

“Okay,” he said looking around as he waded out of the Pool, “they look a lot like Johnny in an odd sort of way, but one thing I know is that people who stand and congregate in a circle have no beginning or end and no high or low, so until I see otherwise I will insist we start our relationship on an equal footing. Call me John or Little Fox. They are all the title I have need of. Emma, I know and respect for her wisdom. The tall, handsome devil with the brass colored eyes and pointed ears I think I’ve met before somewhere. As for the rest of you, I am pleased to make your acquaintance. How can I be of service to you?”

“Indeed, gentle folk,” Emma said, “what extraordinary event is it that brings us all together here? Does this involve my grandson in some way?”

“Not exclusively so,” The Eldritch Sidhe woman replied congenially. “He will certainly need be a part of this, but we called the two of you forth for your own unique qualifications and authority in certain areas. Our worlds are in peril from another plane of being. A world not unlike your own, where humans are the dominant species. Look into the Pool and see the events as they have unfolded thus far.”

With the Eldritch’s gesture, the image in the Pool change to a view of a woodland road, not unlike the one she traversed getting here. A point fixed between two very similar trees shimmered and glowed and a group of about a dozen men emerged dressed in strange robes bearing curious devices. A fae farmer walking beside a cartload of fine produce was waylaid by these men as the devices flashed brilliantly and left the farmer's smoldering corpse on the roadside after stripping it of any jewelry or artifacts and pushing the cart off into the woods. The men then double timed further up the way to a woodland temple where they similarly attacked the clergy and stole some artifacts from the altar area while fighting off some faery guardians before running back and disappearing between the two trees.

“That’s horrible,” Emma exclaimed. “Does the Morrigan have knowledge of this?”

“She is searching this moment,” the Eldritch replied, “to find what portal they might open this Solstice in search of artifacts. How they obtained access to the first portals they found is a mystery to us. Quite possibly discovered by accident. But the Rift Wand they stole from that altar will ensure that future crossings are by no means accidental at all. The nature of such rift areas almost ensures that they will find power items nearby when they do, and thus far, this seems to be their sole motivation in their murders. We had sent a party of Sidhe rangers to investigate the first entry site. Only one returned, horribly mutilated and died shortly after this. As we speak even now, the Morrigan is sending us her vision of what appears to be yet another incursion.”

True to form, the Pool of the Moon was reflecting yet another forest scene from a vantage point high in the trees. A slaughter was taking place at a fae shrine in the meadow below. The pilgrims and clergy had not come armed and were at a decided disadvantage against the interlopers whose crackling energy devices exacted a horrible toll on the gentle folk of the shrine. From the Raven’s perspective high in the tree, a portion of a pale blond head with a rounded ear could be seen clinging to the branches below.

“That’s no Sidhe and certainly no dryad,” Elder Sian exclaimed. “Notice the bobbed, rounded ear in the vision. Morrigan, give us another view of this creature.”

The scene jumped and shifted crazily in the Pool as the Battle Raven took another perch nearby. An eerie light came from deep within steel gray eyes and shortened canines bared in the feral grin on the boys face as a low growl emanated from the lad‘s throat.

“Johnny,” Emma and John exclaimed in unison.

“He looks like he’s about to do something stupid and attack,” John said urgently. “Is there some way he can be stopped?”

“Another time, when you are better prepared, young warrior,” came the raucous croak of the Raven’s voice from the Pool.

The boy crouching on the branch nearly jumped out of his own skin in recognition of the Raven on the nearby perch and then the vision became distorted beyond recognition as the violent impact of a body disrupted the serene surface of the Pool. With much startled splashing and sputtering a soaked and bedraggled Johnny crawled out of the Pool towards them.

“And what did you think you might do to that band of armed men out there?” Emma asked, helping him out of the Pool by his ear.

“Ow, I dunno,” Johnny protested. “I couldn’t just sit there and let them kill all those nice people like that. I tried to stay hidden in the trees but I couldn’t help myself. It was all just so awful I thought I’d die if I didn’t do something.”

“You would have made another fine corpse,” she admonished. “Dream time or no, there are some things we don’t get to