because what he saw was a wizened old man. He didn’t want to look like Great-Great-Grandfather Daegan. And the old man had laughed then, hearing his thoughts. “I once was handsome. And you will be, too. Come to me, laddie, and I will tell you of your heritage. For I believe that one day you will have need of the knowledge my stories will bring.”
After that, Rhys would find himself in his great-great-grandfather Daegan’s room nearly every day. He told him of Annwyn, of all the different places, such as the Summerlands and Wastelands. He spoke of the reflecting pool and all the different races living in the Otherworld. But Rhys’ favorite stories were about the goddesses. Even at his young age, he had been entranced by the idea of a group of women, so beautiful and enchanting, yet filled with awe-inspiring power.
One day, Daegan’s stories began to change. They became less like fairy tales and more like Survival 101. Rhys had been reminded of Cailleach’s curse against the firstborn sons in Daegan’s line, but he had also been informed of places where Cailleach’s power didn’t immediately reach. He’d learned that the reflecting pool would be safe, and Daegan made him memorize over and over how to get to the pool if he passed through the veil that led to Annwyn. He told Rhys about all the different animals and what they represented. He explained that certain animals sometimes allied themselves with humans; if one saw the same animal three times, he could assume the animal had chosen him and would be his guide and protector.
And then he had given him this box, filled with talismans for his journey. He’d never expected to step foot in Annwyn, but somehow Daegan had suspected it was Rhys’ destiny.
Opening the box now, Rhys stared down at the small piece of paper and the words written in Daegan’s hand. Remember the animals. They will be your guides.
From the box Rhys pulled the torc and wrist cuffs, the marks of a high-ranking Celt. The torc was worn around the neck as a status symbol, but also as a talisman against evil.
The ancient bronze was heavy in his hand, but the piece was stunning. At each end of the torc was a carved wolf head. And on each cuff was a Celtic cross with a wolf curled around the base. When Daegan had been banished from Annwyn, he had adopted the surname of his wife. MacDonald had become not only Daegan’s name but his clan. When they’d moved out of Scotland, Daegan had given his family a clan animal, and that was the wolf.
It was fitting that Daegan had chosen the madadh-alluidh to be the clan’s animal ally, for the wolf, like Daegan, was cunning and intelligent. The wolf represented the ability to outthink hunters. It could read the signs of nature and knew how to pass by danger invisibly. It also knew how to outwit those who might do harm and to fight fearlessly when needed. The wolf was a loner that also belonged in a pack. The wolf was the right symbol for the MacDonalds and him.
Rhys wondered why he had felt drawn to the box tonight. Maybe it was Keir and his mysterious disappearing acts these past few days. Maybe it was his own destiny calling him forth. Whatever it was, he felt something was close at hand.
The pretty song of Keir’s wren made him look up. She was a drab little thing, her plumage a nondescript grayish brown. But Cliodna had the most enchanting song he’d ever heard. Many times he had seen Keir follow this bird on his divination journeys. But what the bird was doing here, he had no idea. She belonged to Keir.
“I don’t know where he is,” he grumbled as he picked up the cuffs and placed them on his thick wrists. The bronze was heavy and cool against his skin, but the cuffs felt right, and damn, they looked cool, too.
Cliodna began to sing faster and higher, and Rhys watched her curiously as he placed the torc around his neck. The wolf heads rested against his collarbone, fitting him perfectly.
Rhys waited to feel the magic. Nothing came to
After that, Rhys would find himself in his great-great-grandfather Daegan’s room nearly every day. He told him of Annwyn, of all the different places, such as the Summerlands and Wastelands. He spoke of the reflecting pool and all the different races living in the Otherworld. But Rhys’ favorite stories were about the goddesses. Even at his young age, he had been entranced by the idea of a group of women, so beautiful and enchanting, yet filled with awe-inspiring power.
One day, Daegan’s stories began to change. They became less like fairy tales and more like Survival 101. Rhys had been reminded of Cailleach’s curse against the firstborn sons in Daegan’s line, but he had also been informed of places where Cailleach’s power didn’t immediately reach. He’d learned that the reflecting pool would be safe, and Daegan made him memorize over and over how to get to the pool if he passed through the veil that led to Annwyn. He told Rhys about all the different animals and what they represented. He explained that certain animals sometimes allied themselves with humans; if one saw the same animal three times, he could assume the animal had chosen him and would be his guide and protector.
And then he had given him this box, filled with talismans for his journey. He’d never expected to step foot in Annwyn, but somehow Daegan had suspected it was Rhys’ destiny.
Opening the box now, Rhys stared down at the small piece of paper and the words written in Daegan’s hand. Remember the animals. They will be your guides.
From the box Rhys pulled the torc and wrist cuffs, the marks of a high-ranking Celt. The torc was worn around the neck as a status symbol, but also as a talisman against evil.
The ancient bronze was heavy in his hand, but the piece was stunning. At each end of the torc was a carved wolf head. And on each cuff was a Celtic cross with a wolf curled around the base. When Daegan had been banished from Annwyn, he had adopted the surname of his wife. MacDonald had become not only Daegan’s name but his clan. When they’d moved out of Scotland, Daegan had given his family a clan animal, and that was the wolf.
It was fitting that Daegan had chosen the madadh-alluidh to be the clan’s animal ally, for the wolf, like Daegan, was cunning and intelligent. The wolf represented the ability to outthink hunters. It could read the signs of nature and knew how to pass by danger invisibly. It also knew how to outwit those who might do harm and to fight fearlessly when needed. The wolf was a loner that also belonged in a pack. The wolf was the right symbol for the MacDonalds and him.
Rhys wondered why he had felt drawn to the box tonight. Maybe it was Keir and his mysterious disappearing acts these past few days. Maybe it was his own destiny calling him forth. Whatever it was, he felt something was close at hand.
The pretty song of Keir’s wren made him look up. She was a drab little thing, her plumage a nondescript grayish brown. But Cliodna had the most enchanting song he’d ever heard. Many times he had seen Keir follow this bird on his divination journeys. But what the bird was doing here, he had no idea. She belonged to Keir.
“I don’t know where he is,” he grumbled as he picked up the cuffs and placed them on his thick wrists. The bronze was heavy and cool against his skin, but the cuffs felt right, and damn, they looked cool, too.
Cliodna began to sing faster and higher, and Rhys watched her curiously as he placed the torc around his neck. The wolf heads rested against his collarbone, fitting him perfectly.
Rhys waited to feel the magic. Nothing came to
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