Servant of the Moon #1 - unedited draft

Myth by by Adrian von Ziegler

Master-of-Arms Lyallfr MacGealimir was standing on the high ground at the eastern most black water’s edge, both Moire and Comhnyall had run this way. He knew in his heart that Comhnyall could not have even attempted what Nathairi claimed. His bond with Moire was too strong. It would have physically hurt him, and Moire too. He knew his son would never hurt his mate, anymore than he could ever have hurt his Fiona. Unmated wolves did not understand the power of a strong bond. It was a living thing, it wanted to breathe and to grow and to be fed. Betraying or killing one as strong as Comhnyall and Moire’s almost always took both parties to the moon.

He looked up at the Moon, his Fiona was waiting for him there. He could feel her and her wolf calling to him every night, like a lullaby whispered into his soul. Her golden hair and silver gray eyes reminded him of a high winter’s sunset. Sometimes he would wake from a dream that she was with him and he could still smell her snowy scent. It was as if his life had begun the moment he saw her standing next to Merida on the bow of the ship that brought them, and ended when she, their daughter, and over a dozen others with their pups were ambushed while harvesting seaweed from the coast.

The she-wolves of New Wemyss had fought to the death to protect their children with their pregnant Luna. By the time, Beta Caully and the warriors had arrived, the few living rogues who survived were fleeing the 8 remaining females. Merida had held Fiona’s hand till her last moment. The stress and her injuries had taken Merida’s pup to the moon before it was born. He and the Alpha had pursued the rogues and when they were caught, they confessed. They had been hired to steal the children of New Wemyss and had not expected the females or the children to fight so hard.

Raudi had given him the prisoners for the death of his mate and their 6 year old daughter. He had tortured and then torn them into pieces one by one, then left for a year to hunt and kill their cohorts before the Moon’s Servants had dragged him back to New Wemyss, telling his Alpha and best friend to kill him or keep him on the peninsula. Cohmnyall had been three and a half years old. Now Lyall held on for his sons and their mates, preparing them to be the next generation of warrior wolves.

Many she-wolves over the years had thrown themselves at him before and after Fiona’s death but he wanted no more to do with them than a silver shackle, their touch made him feel filthy. No, he would have nothing to do with them and many left angry. He belonged to Fiona, from the first moment he saw her on the boat holding Merida’s hand, until the last breath she drew. As a boy, he had caught a whiff of her scent mixed with Merida’s familiar one, and realized the scent on the letters that drove his wolf crazy wasn’t the sister of his brother’s fellow soldier, but the scent of someone else, of someone meant to be his.

He looked up at the moon and let his wolf sing to her while he waited. He ate, he breathed, and he fought as he waited for the time when he could join her. She was safe with the Goddess, holding his only daughter, and waiting for him.

‘Ahh Fiona, I miss thee an’ yur scent of fresh snow.′

Taking a very deep breath, Lyall tried to fill the emptiness with air. Winter would bring part of her scent back to him, if only for a season.

He heard a yip and turned, eyeing the two young wolves as they playfully ran across the moonlit frithe (moor). He shifted and whistled, both turned toward him.

“Shift now,” he ordered and both obeyed. He looked at them carefully before asking, “Comhnyall, did ye touch Nathairi or lay with ’er in a mate’s way against ’er will?”

Both gaped at him, their surprise was all the answer he needed as Comhnyall stammered nay.

He held up his hand. “Son, I believe ye. There is nah way ye had time to get all tha distance to tha coast an’ back ta here, an’ do what she claims ye did since I las’ saw ye. But she staggered into tha pack hall, claimin’ ye beat an’ raped ’er. And yur smell was on her and yur claw marks in ’er neck.”

“Father, I swear by tha Goddess... I nah do anythin’ ta her. She was in tha hayloft naked an’ pushed me down in the loose fodder. I pushed ‘er off after she tried ta kiss meh and then Moire came. She hurt Moire, said false things, an’ meh wolf got angry an’ put ‘er on the floor, then I ran after Moire, after meh mate, I don’ wan’ anythin’ to do with tha’ she-wolf.” Comhnyall explained.

Moire nodded in agreement. “Comhnyall was dressed an’ Nathairi was naked, laying on top of him an’ he was yellin’ at ’er ta git off.”

“Very well, when wey git back, ye’ll ’ave ta tell the elders what ‘appened. Do nah be afraid, tell tha truth, an’ do nah let them or ’er mother git ye angry.” His father warned them.

They followed Comhnyal’s father back to the pack, several angry wolves were sitting around the long table in the main hall. Most of the pack members that lived in the Keep were still present. Comhnyall instinctively stepped between the hostile wolves and Moire, who bared her teeth at them. Nathairi was sitting, sobbing and bruised, at one end of the table. Mamó was giving her a drink and dabbing balm on her injuries.

“Moire, go ta ye room,” the alpha ordered.

“No, Dah, I am stayin’ with mo mate. I will nah let the pack whore lie about ‘im.” Moire said loudly, holding up her head. “She did nah look like tha’ when we left ’er.”

Several growled and murmured unhappily.

Flashing his fangs at them, Master-of-Arms Lyall intoned, “Comhnyall, tell ’em what ’appened.”

So he did, “I was gettin’ hay for tha training dummies, an’ Nathairi an’ Sionn where jus’ finishin’ milkin’. When I came back fur another bale, Nathairi was in tha loft, naked an’ smelling of ale. She jus’ stank. She started talking to meh funny, an’ then she started cryin’ about being ugly an’ ne’er findin’ ’er mate. I sat down next ta ‘er an’ patted ’er arms ‘cause I did nah know what else ta do. I felt bad fur her. Then she pushed meh backwards into tha loose fodder an’ started talkin’ real loud when she heard Moire’s voice. I couldn’t touch her to get her off ‘cause seh was naked. I did nah know what ta do. When Moire came up inta tha loft an’ saw, she got upset an’ I tried ta stop ‘er from leavin’ but Nathairi got between meh an’ tha ladder.”

“Did ye ever lay with Nathairi before Comhnyall?” an elder asked.

“Nay, elder. I would nah touch her iffen she was tha last female alive, I have mo ciele (mate).”

The old male nodded, “Go on then.”

Comhnall continued, including the part where he called a stinky bitch, which drew several huffs of anger from her family, but chuckles from others. Embarrassed scowls came from the unmated males who had been with her, including Cullen.

“An’ when she said tha about Moire, my wolf jus’ lost et, an’ we put her on tha floor an’ tha is how my claw marks ended up on her throat. But tha was the only place besides where I patted her arm tha I touched ’er. Then I went after Moire,” Comhnyall concluded.

“And where did find your mate, young Nyall?”

“Moire and I go to the jetty where I lost mum when one of us gets upset. We were on our wey hume when father found us.”

Moire squeezed his hand, they knew they would be in trouble for going there, but the truth mattered more than not being punished for going to a place that was not allowed.

The Alpha and Elders had listened quietly as Comhnyall answered every question, then they questioned Moire, then they questioned Lyall about where he found them and when he had last seen Comhnyall. They turned to Nathairi, who was doing her best to look pathetic, but couldn’t hide her glare toward Moire. She knew she was caught in her lie.

“Nathairi, who gave ye all those bruises?” Mamó asked softly.

“I was to say Comhnyall gave ’em too me when he would nah fu...” she stop suddenly slapping her hand over her mouth, eyes wide.

“What was in tha’ potion, witch?” her mother hissed.

Mamó smiled showing her yellow teeth, they look fiendishly sharp, “Oh, a bit of this for tha pain, an’ a bit of that for tha truth. Moonlight and magic. Now Nathairi, answer tha question, how did ye get all those bruises on ye fair pale hide when ye had none when mo garinion (my granddaughter) said ye had none, an’ m’ogha (my grandson) said he only touched yur throat, or shall I tear tha’ out as he should ’ave?”

The young she-wolf looked terrified, and kept glancing between her mother, Mary, and Cullen.

“Tell tha truth,” the Alpha growled, shaking the room. Everyone except Mamó bent their necks, tears ran down Nathairi’s face.

“Mo mate an’ mo mother,” she whispered out, “Thay made me do it.”

“And you aire aware tha’ Comhnyall is only 14, even ef he looks older?” one of the elders demanded, horrified. Angry that such a false accusation would be made against one so young and against one of the sons of the Gealimir.

“Aye, elder, I am aware,” she sounded ashamed.

“Then why?” Mamó demanded, in her deep ancient voice that resonated in the air with as much power as the Alpha’s.

“Cullen does nah want meh, he only wants Moire,” Nathairi whispered. “He say ef I truly love ’im, I’ll ’elp him win ’er from Comhnyall.”

“Shut ye mouth,” Collin growled, but Nathairi continued as if she couldn’t stop the words from coming out.

“An’ my mother wants meh ta ruin Comhnyall since tha Master-of-Arms chose Fiona over her. But I did nah really want ta do et. Ah jus’ do nah want ’em ta hurt meh any longer.” She sobbed out the last part, then vomited on the floor.

“She ’as spoke tha truth, Alpha, she’s cleared her poison,” Mamó said slowly.

All eyes turned to Cullen and Mary.

“What do ye have to say fur ye-self, mo cho-ogha (my cousin)?” Luna Merida growled.

Mary bared her teeth at Merida, and began ranting.“I was supposed to be a Luna, but nay, he chose ye. An’ before that, ye shoved Fiona at Lyallfr, an’ Lyall chose that stupid, ugly dog over meh. She should nah ’ave even been ‘ere! I am a Beta’s daughter an’ an Alpha’s niece, she es just a miller’s brat. But nay, ye ’ad ta ‘ave yur best friend come an’ ruin e’rythin’ fur me. Ye did nah even care tha I did nah ’ave a mate ‘exceept fur tha smithy. Ye ruint my mating night an’ everyone was so happy fur ye, thay forgot it was my night first. Ye an’ tha stupid siursach Fiona were tha only ones any of ‘em wanted. I was glad when she died. I cried with ye, but those were tears of joy tha’ she suffered, an’ I would see yur ghalla nighean dead too.”

Comhnyall and Moire glanced at each other, they weren’t sure of what Mary had called his mother Fiona or Moire, but from the reactions of the adults it must be very bad. His father, Master-of-Arms Lyall growled deeply and it was clear, he was barely holding himself back from attacking Mary.

Mary laughed spitefully at Merida’s shock, then scowled. “Those fools who were supposed to take tha brat an’ sell her but thay didn’t listen when I tol’ them ta be careful. The Moon said she’ll only be queen IF she survives.”

“Enough, Mary. Mind ye tongue.“Luna Merida placed a gentle hand on Lyall’s arm and he closed his eyes nodding to her, then she marched over to Mary angrily.

But Mary just sneered at her. “Ye will nah hurt meh, mo cho-ogha, we be all thas left of our family in this land.”

Luna Merida looked at her for a long moment, as if seeing her for the first time in a long while, before she slowly reached out and touched her cousin’s cheek gently. Her voice was soft and yet strangely cold. “Nay, ye aire not tha only family I ’ave left in this land. By the Moon Goddess, ye aire nah longer meh family at all.”

In a moment, Mary was laying on the floor, gasping and flopping like a dying fish, her throat torn out by the she-wolf she had grown up with. Everyone froze, shocked at the sudden violence displayed by their loving and gentle Luna. Nathairi sobbed in her chair in fear, and fliched away when the bloody handed Luna Merida touched her chin, forcing her to look up.

“Nathairi, I am sorry tha I had ta do tha’. Ye should ‘ave tole meh she was abusin’ ye. Now, I ’ave no choice. Ye aire banished, but I’ll nah make a rogue of ye. On tha ’morrow, we shall see ‘bout findin’ ye a place in another pack, till then ye shall stay in ye room. Go. I will nah look on ye again, ye are dead ta meh.”

Nathairi ran from the room, crying. Luna Merida turned and nodded to her mate, the Alpha turned to where Cullen had stood. He and his father were gone, slipped away while Mary was making a scene.

Master-of- Arms Lyall and his brother Liam tracked Cullen and Cauly to the northern coastline. The traitors had boarded a ferryboat and sailed to the mainland. It was obvious, they had planned this escape and had help. Because as soon as they were on the mainland, they had gone to straight an airport and flown away.

When Cauly’s daughter Sionn was questioned, she revealed that he had always been abusive to her since her mother’s death. That he mocked her faith in the Moon Goddess but more importantly, that he had purposely allowed a gap in the patrols the day Fiona and her daughter had died because someone wanted to steal Moire. She had never told because he had threatened to kill Cameron if she did. She begged not to be banished and made a rogue. She was such a timid wolf that the Alpha and Luna could not see her punished beyond the abuse she had suffered from her own father and brother. They sent her away with Nathrairi when they discovered her mate in White Mountain. He was a good wolf, a warrior, and grateful to have the lovely but timid strawberry blonde for his mate.

Mamó sent a message to the Oracles and the Moon’s Servants about the plot and the discovery that it had been designed to steal Moire away. One of the Moon’s Servants, a tall, dark skinned warrior, had shown up to take the information learned by the New Wemyss wolves. He brought a message for the Máthair Chríonna from the new Delphi, the Head Oracle. A 16 year old she-wolf who was now the youngest high oracle in a thousand years and also the strongest. With the future in so much flux, not only in the wolf world but in the human one too, only a few oracles were able to have visions that held true beyond the scope of mundane questions.

Mamó was to go to the Moon’s Gate, a strange ring lake far to the north. Cohmnyall and over half of the warriors were sent with her. The youngest Delphi was to be protected while on this side of the continent, training with the eldest living oracle, and the New Wemyss wolves were given the honor.

As they travelled, Mamó worried that the oracles of the brown furs sought to influence the young Delphi because they wanted to start a temple and training school of their own. Their elder oracle and her alpha would do anything to expand the prestige and influence of their pack, the Des Rues. Mamó suspected they wanted Moire as a mate for their son, to make him the Monarch Wolf of the new world. Everything she had seen in the long centuries past, was coming to be and she could do nothing about it.

The old oracle’s visions showed their world would be reduced to ashes, if those who followed the Moon failed. Her only hope was that the young Delphi could see a way around the coming war if there was one, or when the war would come so Moire and Cohmnyall could be protected. The prophecies always came back to the same word... IF.

When the young Delphi Oracle gazed into the reflecting pool or her bowl, she came back confused. She could only tell Mamó she had seen raging fires in blinding snow and the smell of blood mixed with wolfsbane. The Delphi’s vision was not very different from Mamó’s vision of snow turning to ash with everything and everyone disappearing in a whiteout, leaving only blood stained snow behind. No cause, no before or after, just fire and snow, blood and burning wolfsbane.