Wild Watchtower: Shield & Claw Book One

Chapter Nineteen: Tale of a Warrior Priest

The sun didn't warm my fur on the journey back to the citadel, although the lack of heat in my body had nothing to do with the weather. The truth of what we'd discovered chilled me to my core, and I realised how difficult it would be to ignore my grief, regret, and boiling anger. It would be difficult enough for me, who had my whole life duty-bound to my watchtower, and it could prove impossible for my siblings; those whose obligation to the position the elves had given us had always been finite. Perhaps it would be too difficult for my siblings and cousins to accept at all.

And if they couldn't accept it...?

Maybe I didn't dare reveal the truth to my family, lest they refuse to stand beside the elves when I required it of them... But could history be my secret until I figured out how best to honour those who'd died, and how best to inform the world of the slaughter which had taken place in the ancient past? Did I have the right to hide the truth? Conversely, did I have the right to risk the freedom of all of Tírlaochra by revealing it and destroying the alliances which protected our people?

A person could go mad fretting over such possibilities, and a low growl of frustration rumbled from me, drawing Aoibhinn's attention. Concern showed in my mate's eyes as she cautiously leaned in, rubbing her head under my chin as her lupine body pressed closer. Forcing myself to relax, I rubbed my chin against her furred head, then licked her cheek, reassuring her that I'd be alright, and that I didn't blame her for revealing the truth to me.

I imaged it had been hard for her to see the history documented in the cave; as a descendent of both wolves and the gods worshipped by the elves. I would need to remind her that I didn't hold her heritage against her; that she was no more to blame than any other wolf, because I felt sure she would try to bear some responsibility even though that burden wasn't hers to carry. She would bear another's guilt, just as surely as Fiáin did, despite her innocence.

Pausing, I took a moment to press closer to my female, to rub my head against hers, to ensure my scent was on her fur and hers was on mine. I needed her to know the truth; that I wanted her, that I didn't blame her, that I saw the conflict in her, and the bravery she showed in order to correct the wrongs of a people whom her mother had protected and inspired.

'I love you,' I thought, even though I didn't know how, or if it was too soon. Against all logic, perhaps because of the instinctive bond that had flourished from the moment we first met, I felt sure it was true. I would love her for my whole life, come war, or natural disaster, or any other catastrophe. Through all things, good and bad, I would love her.

Aobhinn's expression softened, and I wondered if she could sense where my thoughts had gone. She licked my cheek again, and a soft rumble of appreciation and contentment vibrated in my chest because despite everything else, I had this, and that was worth being thankful for.

When we turned towards Cuannagealán once more, we walked side by side, our bodies pressed together, walking in sync so that some part of us remained in contact at all times. We remained that way throughout the journey to the temple, and we took human form only once we were within the sacred space, pausing to ask a passing priestess where we could find the High Priest.

"He's in the scribe room, adjacent to the library. He's waiting for you, my lord," the young elven priestess informed me, smiling between us in welcome. "I can show you over there..."

"No. Thank you. I know the way."

I backed out of the temple, and for the first time in my life I resented the architectural marvel for all it represented; the erasure of my people and their heritage in Tírlaochra. I wondered what we'd called the land before the elves claimed it and renamed it. Had we had our own name? In the tongue of Veðrheimr or perhaps one related to it? Who had we been before we were chased from our homes?