Chapter 1
A forest in England…
Gryphon O’Conner watched the Nymphs stroll by and enter the woods. If their sexual appetites weren’t recently satisfied, even he’d seem approachable.
He continued his ritual bathing and knew they watched. He heard their incessant giggling from the shrubs. They were almost as nude as he. Their race loved nothing more than to expose themselves to anyone in the Order. Many a man whose eyes wandered in their direction had to answer to a jealous mate when he arrived home. But Gryph—as he was sometimes called—would never have that problem to worry about. There would never be a mate waiting for him. Even the damned Ogres had life companions, and they were as lacking in looks as they were brains. Being one of a kind might not have been so bad except he’d had no say in the matter at all. He shook his head and continued to wash. There was no point rehashing that subject. His parents’ mistake couldn’t be undone.
He glanced toward his black cape and the message secreted within its folds. It had only arrived at his home, in the abbey ruins, an hour ago. He wondered why the sorceress’s latest summons contained the unusual words, ‘Come without delay…no time for explanation’. Her instructions usually included dates, times, and places for his next assignment, but she had never used language indicating such urgency. Every instinct told him he should have probably left already, but the sorceress could damned well wait. Any task she had in mind required preparing his body and spirit. That preparation could only be accomplished by cleansing at leisure in an enchanted pool. Besides, what was she going to do if he didn’t jump at her command as he’d always done? Turn him into a creature everyone in the Order feared? Well, it was too bloody late for that.
The way he saw it, anything she could do to him would only bring release from thirty-four years of being a freak. Even in a world where outsiders would label all inhabitants of the Order unbearable monsters, he would be branded the most horrific of all.
He swam to the opposite side of the pool, reached for his leather Crane Bag, or carryall for magical objects, and began to search within its recesses. A large measure of whiskey usually took the edge off any depressive feelings. Let the older woman wait. He’d done everything she’d ever asked of him, and she still couldn’t manage, with all her persuasive powers, to have him accepted as an equal. He was tired of helping her settle problems within the Order, only to be shunned for having done so. If no one else gave a rat’s ass, why should he?
After taking a long drink from the bottle, he reached back into the bag for some food. His hand glanced against a heavy object, and he drew it forward.
He closed his hand tightly around the quartz crystal and felt its cold edges bite into his palm. The current leader of the fairies, Lore, had given it to him for luck. He suddenly felt a small measure of shame at having forgotten his friend. Even as a child, the fairy had sided with him, and attempted to befriend him as best he could. When the two of them began to play, as children do, Lore’s parents would quickly call their son away and chide him for getting too close to O’Conner. It was on one rare occasion, when Lore’s parents weren’t present, that Lore had given him the crystal. Since then, Gryph had kept the stone close and carried it with him almost everywhere. It was a constant reminder that one person in the entire Order wasn’t afraid of him.
Gryph’s responsibilities kept him from seeing Lore as much as he’d like, but the fairy leader had done more to try to gain his childhood friend’s acceptance than the sorceress ever had. Still, most of the fairies had minds of their own. The most Lore had been able to achieve was the lessening of tensions when Gryph approached their territory. For that, he was grateful, and his feelings of gratitude intensified his guilt. The protection he provided the Order helped Lore and the other fairies every bit as much as it did the Druids, elves and the others who disliked him. He just wished they could get over his ability to shapeshift into something unusual.
“I didn’t ask for this,” he mumbled.
More giggling from the trees and bushes alerted Gryph to the fact that the Nymphs were nearby; still watching him.
“What didn’t you ask for, creature?” one voice questioned.
“I was speaking to myself, nymph. Go away!” Gryphon took another long drink of whiskey, angry he’d spoken his thoughts aloud.
“Do you want some company?” the disembodied voice quizzed.
“I’m a creature, remember? Now, go away,” Gryph repeated, emphasizing the words so she’d understand that he didn’t want them near.
Gryphon watched as one black-haired nymph crawled toward him, from her hiding space. Her full breasts swung from beneath a thin white veil of fabric. This, in turn, was twisted about her slim, blue body as if she’d been writhing in the nearby ferns. Even from several feet away, he could tell he wasn’t the only one in the sacred woods to have been drinking. Maybe that was the reason the woman had the nerve to come near. The smell of alcohol clung to her like gum on the bottom of a shoe. It wasn’t a very flattering come-on when a damned woman had to drink herself into a near stupor, just to approach him.
“What part of go away did you not understand?” Gryphon snapped at the approaching figure.
“Don’t be so terse, O’Conner. I’m only offering a little…companionship.”
“You’re drunk.”
She laughed and fell forward. Her outstretched hands reached for him. “I know. I have this wager with my sisters.”
“Wager?”
“They want to know if you’re as well-endowed as the other Druids we’ve known. I’m betting you are. I mean…a creature like you must be well-favored. Everyone says you’re huge when you shift. We can see you when you fly but can never get close enough to really get a good look at your bottom half. We’re just waiting for you to leave the pool, so we can get a better look.”
Angrier than he could remember being in a long time, Gryphon pulled the woman forward and into the water with him. Her shrieks of laughter did little to calm his rage. “Go back to where you came from and tell your sisters to leave me alone. I’m not someone to be objectified. I don’t have to take this from you. Any of you!”
He let her go and reached for his clothing. The woman’s laughter, and that of the others, rang in his ears. Gryphon grabbed his belongings as he hefted his weight from the water. This was the last, final outrage he was going to put up with. He should have just taken the girl right then and there, but his conscience wouldn’t sink so low as to have sex with a woman who didn’t know what she was doing. He wasn’t a savage, even though some might believe otherwise.
“I win! He’s marvelous,” one of the Nymphs observed as she caught site of Gryphon’s exposed body. Her sisters joined her in a round of bawdy whoops and whistles.
“Damned nymphs!” he muttered as he stumbled away while pulling his clothing on.
To cool his anger, Gryph took the longest route through the ancient forest, or Shire, as it was known to the Order. Doing so cost him time, but he found himself wanting to see the Goblin Meadow. It was there that his heart always found a little peace.
Glancing up at the sky, he knew it was about time for the children to be allowed out to play, and he dearly wanted to watch. His warrior’s soul found calming influence in their innocent antics.
He waited by a nearby tree until their laughter reached him. Despite his anger with the nymphs, a smile drifted across his face. Tiny forms approached as they danced and cavorted with pixies. Some of the fairy children had their wings out, and those appendages glittered like jeweled gauze. In the deepest part of him, Gryph desperately wanted a child of his own. But he’d long since resigned himself to the fact that what he wanted just didn’t matter. So, he assuaged his longings by watching the children of others. He did so from a distance. Respectfully, and always with a will to protect every one of them.
A little girl ran straight toward the tree where he waited. She had a tiny fistful of flowers and laughed as if there were no problems in the wide world that were too terrible or demanding. Her life was one beautiful adventure. Gryph’s tough heart reached out to her, wishing he could have been that carefree in his youth.
Sensing the presence of another, the girl stopped and scanned the edge of the woods. When she saw him, she walked straight toward him, and stopped when her eyes made out his form.
“Hello,” she said as she smiled up at him.
There seemed to be no fear in her at all. “Hello, little one.” He stooped down so he could speak to her on an even level.
“I got some pretty flowers. Want some?” She handed part of the bouquet of wild trillium to him.
Gryph laughed and brought his hand forward to take the small offering. He abruptly stood when a loud voice rang out.
“Lily, get over here this instant!” A tall woman ran forward and pulled the little girl to her. She glared at him and walked away with the child, scolding her for getting too close to the Gryphon. He stepped back as though he’d been slapped. There was no way, in this life or any other, that he’d harm a child. That the toddlers were being taught to stay away from him hurt far worse than anything the nymphs could have possibly said or done. It wasn’t as though he was a stranger to these people. It wasn’t as if they didn’t know the intolerance of the world, which they now bestowed on him. He swiftly turned so those adults who were entering the meadow couldn’t see the tears in his eyes. In that instant, he hated them all.
***
A remote place in Ireland…
Many hours later, after his flight, he had some explaining to do.
“You know I wouldn’t completely ignore a summons from the sorceress.” But the thought had occurred to him. Gryphon shook his hair back over his shoulder as he spoke.
“I know, Gryph,” his mother said. “But you’re late. There’s a dangerous situation evolving. She’ll be terribly angry with you.”
“She’ll get over it. It’s my job to be here. I’m here.”
From the back seat of the large luxury car, Gryphon O’Conner watched the profiled, guilt-ridden glances exchanged between his two parents.
Thirty-four years before, James and Gwyneth O’Conner had meddled with powers that should have been left alone. Gryph’s condition, as he referred to his shapeshifting ability, was the result of that meddling.
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right,” he assured them. “Shayla will give me the information. I’ll handle the problem and be back before you know it.” He quickly changed the subject to spare his parents’ feelings. “The flight from the English countryside was long. I’d have flown all the way to the stone circle, instead of having you pick me up out here in the middle of nowhere. But there was no sense taking that risk. Anyone with a cell phone could photograph me in the daylight hours. Besides, I wanted to see two of my favorite people before meeting with Shayla tonight,” he told them. “How have things been these past weeks?”
“Well enough, Son,” his father said over his shoulder, while the best of his vision was on the winding and narrow Irish road. “Your mother and I have had a wonderful time in France. There are many of our kind still practicing in that country, you know.”
Gryph smiled patiently at the two people he loved more than anything in the world. He stretched his six feet, four inches as far as the backseat area would allow and listened to his parents talk of their latest travel exploits. The flight from England to Ireland—whose roads they currently traversed—had been more tiring than he wanted his parents to know. He had to practice great care when he traveled, avoiding overly populated areas, and the eyes of those who constantly looked toward the heavens. These days, those eyes included drones and satellites. Thus, covering distances sometimes took longer than expected and could be strenuous.
He’d had to avoid several British army helicopters on routine maneuvers and keeping his distance had added miles to his trip. The human world wasn’t ready for him and his highly unusual alter ego. He knew his presence, should it ever be detected, wouldn’t be explainable or tolerated. Humans feared what they did not understand. What they feared, they destroyed.
That his parents loved him wasn’t an issue. It was the extent of that love, however, that had brought him to his current, painful circumstance.
Blaming them was unthinkable. They had no knowledge of the responsibilities the sorceress heaped upon him. He rarely shared the nature of his dealings with anyone and went out of his way to keep Mother and Father from knowing. He let them think he simply helped when called upon. It would crush them to learn that Shayla Gallagher had him doing every dirty little deed she didn’t feel like handling.
He tried hard, while in his parents’ presence, not to make much of the sorceress’s assignments, or his part in enforcing rules within the Order. For their part, he felt sure his parents tried to pretend he wasn’t such an outcast.
It was a game they all played. He pretended not to be hurt by what others in the Order said. His parents pretended the situation wasn’t all that serious; that their son was just like any other Druid. For them, Gryph’s latest residence—a dilapidated English abbey—was just a retreat their son had chosen as a resting place. For Gryphon, it was one of the only places left where he didn’t feel like an outcast; like someone who was so different. There, he had been left alone to read and decipher ancient tomes, to learn more about his own history. No one had asked many questions of him. There were outsiders who lived nearby, but they rarely ventured into that part of the countryside. If he had his way, he’d find someplace in Ireland to call home, but the sorceress wanted her enforcer near her. In England.
“Son, are you listening?” Father asked as he looked through the rearview mirror at Gryph.
“Sorry. I was daydreaming. A bad habit of mine.” Gryph smiled at his father.
“I was asking if you thought the full moon tonight might make whatever Shayla has in mind more conspicuous?”
“I doubt it. Shayla hasn’t kept her anonymity all these years without superb guile. We don’t use cell phones in case one of us should lose one. Indeed, we don’t use anything with a GPS attached, not if she can help it. Our children are only allowed access to computers when she thinks it’s appropriate. We’re living like we’re in the last century, hoping that it’ll be harder for anyone to discover us. At least that’s her reasoning.” He shook his head. “If you ask me, we should be making use of that technology to hide ourselves, but what do I know.” Gryph frowned as he watched the passing scenery. He tried to keep the sarcasm out of his voice but hadn’t succeeded. Still, his parents didn’t act as if they would respond to that bit of logic. As ever, they were Shayla’s loyal subjects.
“We’ll be meeting with her at the ancient stone circle, on the next hill. She wants us in Ireland for some specific reason,” Gwyneth said, as she turned in the front seat to see Gryph better. “We should be far enough away from any cottage.”
“I promise you, Mother…Shayla won’t let her watchdog get caught!”
***
Gryph stood in pretended, reverent silence as Shayla Gallagher, Sorceress of the Ancients, spoke the ancient, magical words which always preceded these meetings. His parents had gone into the woods and changed into the long white robes of their Druid ancestors, while he had donned a less conspicuous robe of brown.
Shayla lifted a crystal to the night sky with one hand and threw herbs into a small fire at her feet with the other. The evening breeze lifted the older woman’s long, silver hair from her shoulders. While still beautiful, she looked every bit the wizened, prophetic conjuror she wanted others to revere.
Gryph was past the point of respecting her. He wanted to, but he’d been used too many times without respect being returned. Her wiles had worked on him as a boy, when the small tasks she’d given him seemed important. The tasks and their importance had grown, however, and he wasn’t a boy to be tricked any longer. He knew the older woman for what she was—a manipulator.
Gryph pulled his hood up as his long dark hair began to drift about his shoulders. In customary fashion, he had braided long strands of hair next to his face. Celtic symbols were now painted on his forehead and cheekbones in a shade of garish, blue woad; as ceremony demanded.
Finally, Shayla turned to Gryph with a smile on her face. He walked forward and, for the benefit of his parents only, kissed her outstretched hands. She gave him a disparaging look, and he knew she wasn’t fooled.
“Gryphon, I was told you received my message. You were to fly to Ireland two days ago. I trust you have a plausible excuse for your delay?”
“There’s no excuse except I simply couldn’t get here any faster.” He just wanted her to get on with delivering a next assignment.
“I couldn’t have made myself clearer. Circumstances here are very serious,” she replied with condemnation coloring her voice.
“Sorry, Shayla. I couldn’t file a damned flight plan with the authorities. I got here as soon as I safely could.”
“I am not amused with your sarcasm, young man,” she warned.
Gwyneth placed a hand on Gryph’s arm. “Please, Gryphon, don’t make her angry. This isn’t the time.”
Gryph heaved a sigh, glanced at his father’s reproachful countenance, and decided his exhibition of disrespect could wait until another time; a time when he and Shayla were alone, and he didn’t have to guard his words for his parents’ sake. “Just tell me what you want me to do…Sorceress? Why are we in Ireland? Why did I dodge every conceivable human tracking device to get here, when you could have told me what to do back in the Shire? Why are my parents being dragged into this?”
Shayla raised her brows in an imperious fashion, simultaneously shooting him a look that would have sent less bold men into hiding.
Gryph’s parents gasped.
She took a deep breath, apparently trying to quell her anger, then proceeded. “We’re here to honor this country and ask its old gods and goddesses for favor. We will be asking for help in a great quest. It was here that a terrible desecration took place, so it is from here that your mission must begin. This is the way of Irish tradition, and I will respect it.”
“Even though you’re English,” he said, with a grin.
She glared at him.
“All right. I’ll stop. Go on, I’m listening,” he prompted while suppressing a smirk.
“Several weeks ago, friends not far away…in Northern Ireland…sent word that an ancient burial mound has been desecrated. This is one more reason why our meeting is in this country, not back in England. I needed to ascertain certain facts for myself, in person. Meeting you all here is also more expedient since time is of the essence now.”
“You want me to find out who disturbed an ancient burial site?” Gryph asked.
“We know who it was. What we didn’t know, until quite recently, is what was taken from that location.” She slowly walked toward the largest of the stones in the megalithic circle surrounding them. “Along with ancient jewelry and weapons, three stones were taken. While it was blasphemous enough that the site was disturbed, the stones’ theft is most alarming.”
Gryph’s eyes narrowed. “Why? What’s their importance?”
“The stones are old. They are so ancient that they bear Ogham markings. They date to the time before the Romans came to England. They were buried with the remains of an ancient Celtic family who were sworn to protect them at all costs, and their power is unspeakable. Should they fall into the wrong hands, and their magic discovered, horrors will walk the world.” She walked back to the small fire into which she’d earlier thrown her sacred herbs and paced back and forth. “Unless we undo what’s been done, the entire Order is in danger!”
Gryph felt his skin grow cold. For the first time in his life, he saw signs of fear in the sorceress’s face. He’d never seen her in anything remotely resembling a state of agitation. She never paced, never clutched at the crystal she used to call forth her spirit guides, and he’d never ever heard her voice shake as it was now. This wasn’t a normal assignment. He wasn’t going to be asked to settle some dispute between members of the Order. Now, he had second thoughts about delaying his response to the sorceress’s summons. Behind him, he heard his parents’ whispered queries.
“Shayla, what were these stones?” his father asked as he walked forward and stood beside Gryph.
“Marks of the oldest magic were chiseled into them,” Shayla answered. “These were the marks of making…of shapeshifting.”
“Oh, no. These aren’t…they’re not the stones I’m thinking of,” Father whispered. “Are we talking about the Rune Stones of the Tuatha de Danann?”
Gryph’s mother grasped his father’s hand. By the light of the fire, blood pumping through her veins was evident in her flushed features.
“Explain,” Gryph demanded. “I know of the old ways and have studied Irish ritual objects, but I’ve never heard of these stones.”
“That isn’t surprising, as they were kept very secret. The name your father has given them is what they are now called. Their magic may have been derived from wisdom within ancient Ogham writings. The Tuatha used these writings to imbue powers into the rune stones. Anyone who deciphers the stones for honest intent will be able to move about in a powerful, otherworldly form which reflects their true soul. However, those seeking to use the stones for evil intent will take on the form of something monstrous,” Shayla told him. “Your job, Gryphon, is to retrieve the stones before that can happen. Only you, with your special capabilities, can bring back the stones. They must be hidden away, once and for all and in Ireland. It is only here that those stones must be hidden and protected. That is the tradition. No single being was meant to have their power.”
And now, the responsibility for their safe return has been inflicted upon me! Gryph felt old bitterness in his heart. His powers were something that, given the choice, he’d never have accepted.
As if she knew his thoughts, Shayla looked him straight in the eyes. “Your soul, however embittered it may be, is clean and unfettered, Gryphon O’Conner. Your ability to shapeshift came from the mistake your parents made with a minor enchantment. Can you imagine that power being magnified, and abused, by someone whose nature is corrupt?”
“The stones are really that powerful?” Gryph asked, as he briefly gazed into the distance.
“Yes, and they must be returned here as soon as possible,” Shayla warned.
“You said you knew who took them?”
“I know where you should begin looking. Be warned, however. It won’t be easy to retrieve them. You may have to break the outsider’s law. This being the case…because this task is more dangerous than anything I’ve ever asked…I’ll make sure the reward for successful completion is great.”
“I want no reward. Just a promise, Shayla. Since I’m sure you know what I want, and since I feel reasonably certain you’ll grant my request, I’ll find the stones and bring them back.”
In return, he wanted no more asked of him. That was the only request he’d make.
“Where do I have to go?”
His mother quickly stepped forward. “He’s my only son, Shayla. The power he might face is too great to confront alone. His father and I—”
“Mother, stay out of this!” Gryphon insisted.
“Is it no longer fashionable for a mother and father to love their son?” Father asked. “While the rest of the world neglects its family, its friends, and Nature itself, are we to mimic their ways? Is your pride too great to accept help, my son? If it is, then you invite failure.”
“I don’t want you or mother involved.”
His father stared back at him. “You know that we have powers that can help. If this matter is so serious that it affects the entire Order, then having your mother and I attend…as backup…seems prudent. The influence of these stones is great, indeed. Should you fail, there may not be time to bring help later.”
Shayla nodded. “Your parents speak from a place of wisdom, Gryphon. Furthermore, because they are very well traveled and very familiar with the area to which I’ll be sending you, they may follow. As they have pointed out, if you should fail, this task will fall to them to complete. By making this mission a family affair, your resolve to see it done properly…and safely…should be magnified.”
“Absolutely not!” Gryphon asserted as he swiped his hand in immediate dismissal of this new turn of events. “I refuse to have them in any danger They may have powers, but they’re not warriors, I am. Have I not proven my abilities in the past, Sorceress?”
“The past is what it is. I am speaking of the present and of the future. If you would be called a warrior now, I suggest you start acting like one,” Shayla proclaimed in a loud voice. “This isn’t about you. It’s about protecting the Order! If I deem it appropriate to send in the fairy leader or anyone else to assist you, I shall do so. There has never been any obligation to come to you for approval.”
“If finding these stones is so critical, what will you be doing?” Gryphon questioned as he placed his hands on his hips. “Shouldn’t the person with the most power be present, to help bring back the stones? Isn’t the most powerful among us you?”
“Gryphon! I didn’t raise my son to be so disrespectful to the Sorceress of the Ancients,” Father asserted. Then, he placed a hand on his son’s forearm, and forced Gryph to turn and look at him.
“It’s all right, James,” the sorceress said in a placating tone. “Your son should know that if his attempt…and yours…is unsuccessful, I’ll be doing what I can back in England, to save the rest of the Order.”
Gryph turned away from his father to look at her. The woman wasn’t exaggerating. There was a solemnity in her voice, a look of urgency on her face. “I’ll bring the bloody things back. No matter what it takes!”
“You’d better, or the rest of the world will learn of us. And while you take exception to me and my methods, Gryphon, the other members of the Order shouldn’t be endangered because of our differences. Surely, you don’t blame everyone else for the way some treat you?”
Gryphon glanced at his parents, unwilling to have the sorceress continue the conversation while they were within earshot. He didn’t want them to feel unnecessary guilt. He lowered his voice. “I’ve promised to do as you’ve asked. We’ll talk about our differences, and the way anyone else behaves, later.”
Undaunted, the sorceress continued. “Surely the children aren’t to blame. You don’t want harm coming to them, do you?”
“Of course not!” Gryphon snapped. The woman knew his weakest point and wasn’t above exploiting it. “I’ve told you I’ll go. What else do you want?”
“Damn you, Gryphon! I want your heart in the task. It could mean the difference between success or failure.” She stared at him for a long moment, then gazed at his parents. “You all play this silly little charade where Gryphon pretends no one cares what he is. I can’t make people like or accept you, Gryphon. Only you can do that. And I can’t keep your parents from feeling guilt. Only they can deal with those feelings. What I can and will do is protect the Order. And this I’ll do at all costs. Our children have the right to grow up in safety. To that end, I’ve given you a task to perform. It will take everything in you to pull this off. Without your full cooperation…and willingness to accept help and take direction…there’s nothing left to do but see to the safety of the others. But try to think of them, Gryph! While some have shunned you, others have tried to help. You won’t see it because you’re so wrapped up in self-pity. I could almost hate you except I haven’t time for the distraction. Alternate plans need to be made in case you fail. In your current state, I can easily see that happening.”
Gryphon watched her stalk off. Anger notwithstanding, the sorceress had never spoken to him so bluntly. Part of him wanted to run after her as he had when he was a boy, and she’d been displeased with some small thing he’d neglected. He wanted her to care about him. Not just what he could do for her. He felt empty, then shame crept in. He had to lay his personal problems aside and do his best. While he wasn’t as popular as he might have liked, he had no business endangering anyone because of his attitude. Especially since the sorceress was so certain that his skill set was appropriate for this assignment.
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