Witch Clan: Warriors!, John Stormm [books to read in your 20s female TXT] 📗
- Author: John Stormm
Book online «Witch Clan: Warriors!, John Stormm [books to read in your 20s female TXT] 📗». Author John Stormm
those eyes up a bit. I‘m glad you don‘t like killing rats, but when they come and threaten to chew out your throat, I expect dead rats is about all that‘s supposed to come from that kind of foolishness.”
“It was nice you got to see Hex off on his way, last night,” she said. “I was so sorry you missed the service. Things are going to be a lot different for the gang now. You’ll probably never realize the many ways you’ve changed their whole world with all the things you’ve done. It won’t be perfect. They never are. But on certain nights of the week, a whole world will hold on to its funny bone and other people will rise up to make them laugh even more. Kids with talent will be allowed to grow up and learn their own ways of mastering themselves rather than being mastered by others. Still, there will be those who object to that. But now there are more choices than just living on the streets and stealing a warm blanket and a meal to keep alive. The fae folk in all their little woodland hamlets no longer need to die for the beauty they possess. Here, in our own world, the threat of nuclear annihilation has been set back a notch or two because certain outside parties they never would have suspected have been foiled and all of us had a part in that. Your grandpa killed some men trying to steal bombs to destroy other worlds. Little Fox killed some men protecting a treasure that belonged to none of us. But had all those men lived and accomplished what they desired to do, untold millions of men, women and children would have died violently and horribly in their homes on many worlds besides our own. For a little while, I lived like a queen of my world and commanded the bravest and staunchest of heroes who saved many little kingdoms. Monsters died. Some heroes died, but worlds and lives worth fighting for have been spared. It was a good trade.”
“I thought it was expensive,” Johnny said. “But when you put it like that, it was worth every penny.”
“You better believe it, boy-o,” she said. “There’s a whole lot of cock and bull stories in those history books of yours, but we’ve learned that one thing is true: when ordinary people want to live free, they always have to dig deep down inside themselves to find the currency to pay for it. Just because we call it ‘free’ doesn’t mean it’s cheap.”
“I’d like not to have to spend any more this summer,” Johnny said. “If you don’t mind.”
I’d say you’ve earned it,” she said, ruffling his hair. “I think that’s going to be about the gist of what Little Fox wants to talk to you about later. Debriefings, R and R and soldier stuff like that. He has experience in those things and knows what it will take to pull you men back together in a good way. I have a great deal of respect for what my men folk can do. For centuries, this clannadh has been about women. But without men like you, your grandpa and Little Fox,.. I dread to even think about what might have happened to all of us. Your aunts once thought we were cursed with bad fae luck, but I happen to know how truly lucky I really am.”
“Me too, Grams,” Johnny agreed, touching his forehead to hers.
* * *
In a sprawling graveyard, on the other side of town, a large antique mirror shimmers and allows two otherworldly visitors to step into the confines of an unused, family mausoleum. Elder Shan and Master Shabriri still have much to do with Johnny’s continuing education as a Sidhe princeling.
“The boy is unmistakably an Emerald like his father before him,” Shan continued in a discussion that started a world apart from this gloomy place.
“Yes, he’s an Emerald,” the Master said, “but no, he’s not like his father or any other Sidhe or human in the realm of any of our experiences. There‘s always more to him than is readily seen.”
“He’s very dangerous,” Shan observed. “Is it safe to continue teaching him?”
“They are all dangerous,” Shabriri noted, “he is just more so. I can teach him only so far and then I need to learn what he can teach us. We have to bind him to us somehow.”
“If I might suggest,” the Elder said, while laying out their equipment on their pallets, “I’ve noticed he is easily alienated from his human peers.”
“He hasn’t any human peers,” Shabriri snapped.
“All the more to my point,” Shan asserted. “We can use this to our advantage and make him dependent upon us for understanding and nurturing. This will give us a measure of control, a safety line, if you will, in dealing with such a creature as he.”
“You fear this boy,” Shabriri said, making eye contact.
“Respect,” Shan replied, “is a better word. Only a fool would sit in the trees and wave a sword during a thunder storm. He is, after all, an untrained Emerald.”
“Forgive me, brother,” Shabriri said, “I didn’t intend that as a criticism. For all of an Emerald’s power, his father never had to deal with the likes of his own son in human flesh and I take pause in that, as this is precisely what we are required to do. It is all too easy to look at him and say that he is but a boy and leave it at that. But we both know what this mere boy has done to change the worlds he has touched. Suppose, when he grows and comes into his own, that his motivations become less altruistic? What then? Who or what could stop him? What safeguards exist to control such a one as him?”
“Your pallette is ready, brother,” Shan said, indicating his spot. “The idea is quite daunting, to be sure. But we also know that he did not accomplish any of those things alone. He had help from his many friends and relatives.”
“Indeed, he did,” the Master said, reclining on his bier. “We must become his closest friends. So much so that he dares not make a move without our approval. We must be his most invaluable allies.”
“Careful not to cross the matriarch, my friend,” Shan admonished, starting the incisions that would drive the Master outside of himself. “We don’t ever want to put ourselves in the position of coming between those two. Some have already paid dearly for that mistake. We must, at least appear to be working in perfect concert with the witch clan’s purposes or we risk everything. I would point out that therein lies our safety line.”
The grotesque details of the disembodiment of Master Shabriri having been expertly administered, the Elder Shan moves to his own bier and seems to sink into himself and once again, two otherworldly specters leave the confines of the grand old cemetery to walk the streets of Rochester on an agenda that no human mind could ever dream of.
END OF BOOK TWO OF WITCH CLAN SERIES
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“It was nice you got to see Hex off on his way, last night,” she said. “I was so sorry you missed the service. Things are going to be a lot different for the gang now. You’ll probably never realize the many ways you’ve changed their whole world with all the things you’ve done. It won’t be perfect. They never are. But on certain nights of the week, a whole world will hold on to its funny bone and other people will rise up to make them laugh even more. Kids with talent will be allowed to grow up and learn their own ways of mastering themselves rather than being mastered by others. Still, there will be those who object to that. But now there are more choices than just living on the streets and stealing a warm blanket and a meal to keep alive. The fae folk in all their little woodland hamlets no longer need to die for the beauty they possess. Here, in our own world, the threat of nuclear annihilation has been set back a notch or two because certain outside parties they never would have suspected have been foiled and all of us had a part in that. Your grandpa killed some men trying to steal bombs to destroy other worlds. Little Fox killed some men protecting a treasure that belonged to none of us. But had all those men lived and accomplished what they desired to do, untold millions of men, women and children would have died violently and horribly in their homes on many worlds besides our own. For a little while, I lived like a queen of my world and commanded the bravest and staunchest of heroes who saved many little kingdoms. Monsters died. Some heroes died, but worlds and lives worth fighting for have been spared. It was a good trade.”
“I thought it was expensive,” Johnny said. “But when you put it like that, it was worth every penny.”
“You better believe it, boy-o,” she said. “There’s a whole lot of cock and bull stories in those history books of yours, but we’ve learned that one thing is true: when ordinary people want to live free, they always have to dig deep down inside themselves to find the currency to pay for it. Just because we call it ‘free’ doesn’t mean it’s cheap.”
“I’d like not to have to spend any more this summer,” Johnny said. “If you don’t mind.”
I’d say you’ve earned it,” she said, ruffling his hair. “I think that’s going to be about the gist of what Little Fox wants to talk to you about later. Debriefings, R and R and soldier stuff like that. He has experience in those things and knows what it will take to pull you men back together in a good way. I have a great deal of respect for what my men folk can do. For centuries, this clannadh has been about women. But without men like you, your grandpa and Little Fox,.. I dread to even think about what might have happened to all of us. Your aunts once thought we were cursed with bad fae luck, but I happen to know how truly lucky I really am.”
“Me too, Grams,” Johnny agreed, touching his forehead to hers.
* * *
In a sprawling graveyard, on the other side of town, a large antique mirror shimmers and allows two otherworldly visitors to step into the confines of an unused, family mausoleum. Elder Shan and Master Shabriri still have much to do with Johnny’s continuing education as a Sidhe princeling.
“The boy is unmistakably an Emerald like his father before him,” Shan continued in a discussion that started a world apart from this gloomy place.
“Yes, he’s an Emerald,” the Master said, “but no, he’s not like his father or any other Sidhe or human in the realm of any of our experiences. There‘s always more to him than is readily seen.”
“He’s very dangerous,” Shan observed. “Is it safe to continue teaching him?”
“They are all dangerous,” Shabriri noted, “he is just more so. I can teach him only so far and then I need to learn what he can teach us. We have to bind him to us somehow.”
“If I might suggest,” the Elder said, while laying out their equipment on their pallets, “I’ve noticed he is easily alienated from his human peers.”
“He hasn’t any human peers,” Shabriri snapped.
“All the more to my point,” Shan asserted. “We can use this to our advantage and make him dependent upon us for understanding and nurturing. This will give us a measure of control, a safety line, if you will, in dealing with such a creature as he.”
“You fear this boy,” Shabriri said, making eye contact.
“Respect,” Shan replied, “is a better word. Only a fool would sit in the trees and wave a sword during a thunder storm. He is, after all, an untrained Emerald.”
“Forgive me, brother,” Shabriri said, “I didn’t intend that as a criticism. For all of an Emerald’s power, his father never had to deal with the likes of his own son in human flesh and I take pause in that, as this is precisely what we are required to do. It is all too easy to look at him and say that he is but a boy and leave it at that. But we both know what this mere boy has done to change the worlds he has touched. Suppose, when he grows and comes into his own, that his motivations become less altruistic? What then? Who or what could stop him? What safeguards exist to control such a one as him?”
“Your pallette is ready, brother,” Shan said, indicating his spot. “The idea is quite daunting, to be sure. But we also know that he did not accomplish any of those things alone. He had help from his many friends and relatives.”
“Indeed, he did,” the Master said, reclining on his bier. “We must become his closest friends. So much so that he dares not make a move without our approval. We must be his most invaluable allies.”
“Careful not to cross the matriarch, my friend,” Shan admonished, starting the incisions that would drive the Master outside of himself. “We don’t ever want to put ourselves in the position of coming between those two. Some have already paid dearly for that mistake. We must, at least appear to be working in perfect concert with the witch clan’s purposes or we risk everything. I would point out that therein lies our safety line.”
The grotesque details of the disembodiment of Master Shabriri having been expertly administered, the Elder Shan moves to his own bier and seems to sink into himself and once again, two otherworldly specters leave the confines of the grand old cemetery to walk the streets of Rochester on an agenda that no human mind could ever dream of.
END OF BOOK TWO OF WITCH CLAN SERIES
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Text: John Stormm
Images: John Stormm
Editing: John Stormm
Publication Date: 10-12-2012
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