The Cathedral of Cliffdale (9 page)

Chapter 14

Quinn opened her eyes and the scene around her had completely transformed. She stood in a large cobbled square, a simple stone water fountain before her. The Fountain of Youth, it was called by man, in his perpetual quest to find it; but no man ever would – King Eldon had created the fountain for the supernatural alone – so that those precious few who survived could live for eternity, safe in the protected City.

As Quinn watched, a horned stallion of shimmering white approached the fountain and dipped his head to drink. She stepped forward, placing a hand on his thick neck, and stroking his glossy coat. Taller than any ordinary horses, the unicorns stood over eighteen hands, and Quinn could just reach the top of the stallion’s back.

“Good to see you haven’t yet been ousted, Primera,” Quinn crooned, earning herself a baleful look. The unicorns, like wild horses, exist in a harem consisting of one adult male, several females, their foals and a number of immature horses of both sexes. Primera, as the dominant male, would drive out both colts and fillies when they reached sexual maturity to prevent in-breeding as well as to establish his dominance. Although there were a few smaller herds in the Silver Oaks forest that had banded together after being ejected from the main herd, Primera had obviously not yet been defeated by a younger, challenging stallion. Primera had been the herd stallion as long as Quinn had been a Guardian, and she dreaded the day that he would be bested by another and cast out of the herd. The dominant mare, Zinnia had been Primera’s primary mate for at least fifty years, although Quinn still remembered her predecessor, Dessa. Dessa had fallen ill inexplicably, and, while she had recovered, she was no longer fertile and could not conceive any new foals. Primera had shunned her from the herd and Zinnia had taken Dessa’s place. Dessa remained in the forest and had taken up with a smaller herd.

Primera raised his regal head and nudged Quinn’s shoulder gently, emitting a low, musical whinny and bringing her back to the present. So much for man’s mythology, which stated that unicorns favoured virgins, Quinn thought wryly. She had loved and lost human partners a few times in her hundred years as a Guardian, and then she had found Tristan, and she had hoped that she would never have to feel the pain of that loss again. Tristan would live as long as she would – old age would never take him from her. But she had lost him after all, and it had been far, far worse than ever before.

With one last snort into her shoulder, the white stallion turned on his heels and, with a flick of his long tail, galloped out of the courtyard. The unicorns preferred the quiet solitude of the Silver Oaks forest on the very outskirts of Summerfeld. When he had created the City, King Eldon had ensured that each species would have a natural habitat, and the quiet, eerie stillness of the Silver Oaks forest suited the spiral-horned horses far better than the City Square. While they trusted the Guardians, they were only truly comfortable with the Fae, and they would not tolerate the touch of any other supernatural creature.

Quinn walked slowly from the courtyard into the City square, home of the Faeries themselves, and the werewolves when they were in human form. She did not meet anyone along the way, although most of the inhabitants would have sensed her arrival. She stopped beside one of the smaller houses about half a mile from the fountain, surveying the sweet garden for a moment before heading for the house and knocking softly on the front door.

“Quinn,” Kellan greeted her as the door opened, before he had even laid eyes on her. Kellan was a Faery, and, like all of his kind, he was fair-skinned and tall in stature. Faeries were radiant, almost angelic creatures. Kellan’s long, white blond hair hung in a thick curtain down his back, save for two braids on either side of his face.

“Kellan, it’s good to see you,” Quinn stepped forward and the two embraced comfortably. Like all the supernaturals, the Fae had an intrinsic love for the Guardians who kept them safe, however, unlike most of the other species; they were very demonstrative with their affection.

“Where is Freya?” Quinn asked, glancing around the small living space.

“I’m here,” his wife called, emerging from one of the bedrooms. Like Kellan, Freya was tall and fair, her pale, aquamarine eyes so startlingly like her husband’s that the two could easily be mistaken for brother and sister.

Quinn’s eyes widened as she caught sight of the bulge of the Faery’s abdomen, and Freya smiled, patting her stomach fondly and nodding in affirmation. Quinn enveloped her in a bear hug.

“How long?” She practically squeaked with excitement. 

“Just a few more weeks.”

The Fae were, by and large, infertile, and most couples failed to conceive. Their gestation period differed from humans – Fae women were pregnant for eighteen months. Faery babies were rare and each child born was a precious gift. Again, Quinn felt that surge in her blood – her Guardian instinct to protect this child.
“I was just heading out to Dragon’s Peak,” Kellan changed the subject abruptly and Quinn finally tore her eyes from Freya’s belly. Kellan had retrieved his bow and quiver from near the door and slung them over his shoulders. “Perhaps you would like to accompany me, Quinn?” 

“Of course,” she replied, as Kellan shoved a hessian sack into the quiver, along with his arrows. The Fae were phenomenal marksmen, particularly the men, although Quinn had once seen Freya hit a moving hare from over a hundred feet away. Their bows, however, were harmless against the thick hide of a dragon and Quinn raised her brow in question.

“We are low on meat supply,” Kellan explained. “I saw a family of wild boar in the woods yesterday. We might stumble across them on our way back.”

Dragon's Peak was the tallest of Summerfeld’s mountain ranges, and, as its name implied, it was there that the few remaining dragons had made their home. Of all Summerfeld’s species, the dragons were the most worrying. Infertility did not affect them, but this did not stop them from destroying each other. Unused to living in such close proximity, the dragons constantly fought over territory, the victors taking out whole clusters of eggs. Slowly, the dragon population had started to diminish. There had been over two hundred when King Eldon had created the City, but now only a quarter of that number remained.

Kellan led Quinn around the back of the house and through a small gate which led them out of the garden and into a huge cornflower field. Quinn couldn’t help but admire the beauty of the City’s setting. Summerfeld was undoubtedly the most exquisite place on Earth.

“Kellan!” a youthful voice called, and Quinn turned to find Velkan, Kellan’s protogee, striding toward them. Velkan wore his long hair exactly the same way Kellan did, the high points of his ears clearly visible, but his hair was a deep mahogany. Like Kellan, he had a bow and quiver slung across his shoulders, and he was wearing a hunting tunic.

“Velkan,” Kellan clapped a hand on the younger mans shoulder. “I will not be needing your help today after all. Quinn will be accompanying me.” Velkan did not argue, or show any emotion. Instead, he bowed respectfully.

“It is good to see you back, Quinn,” he murmured.

“I’m not back,” Quinn quickly corrected, “but it is good to see you, Velkan.”

“We’re low on supplies,” Velkan turned back to Kellan. “Perhaps I should go out hunting?”

“Good idea. I was going to try and track the boar on our way back...”

“I’ll do it,” Velkan offered, before he had even finished speaking. This was the nature of the Fae, their willingness to help others and each other.

“Thank you,” Kellan replied gratefully. “Safe hunting.”

As Velkan walked towards the woods, Kellan smiled across at Quinn, before facing the trees on the other side of the field and emitting a high-pitched whistle.

“So, why are you heading up to Dragon’s Peak?” Quinn asked while they waited.

“The last remaining female Chumana has a cluster of eggs, but her mate was killed by an Orochian male three days ago. It’s only a matter of time before he finds her nest.” Quinn felt the pang of loss. The Chumana, the most beautiful of all the dragon species, was smaller than the others, the colour of their scales ranging from red to orange to the brightest yellow across their bellies. The Chumana had been struggling for survival for the past two hundred years, as the bigger, more vicious dragons picked them off, but the loss of the last surviving male threatened the end of their species. Quinn understood now what the hessian sack was for. The eggs needed to be protected, to ensure that the Chumana survived. Quinn’s protective instinct overtook everything else and she tapped her foot impatiently.

“There they are,” Kellan murmured, and Quinn squinted into the distance. Sure enough two unicorns had emerged from the trees edging the field and were galloping towards them, their manes and tails flying. The unicorns were faster than ordinary horses, their longer legs able to cover more ground.

They stampeded directly towards Quinn and Kellan, and, just as it seemed that they would mow the two down, they skidded to a halt only a few feet away, dropping their handsome heads and waiting expectantly. Quinn reached down and the mare beside her snorted gently into her hand before stamping her hoof on the ground, crushing a few cornflowers in the process. Unicorn mares were easier to ride, being slightly smaller than their male counterparts and having a broader back.

“Etana and Sheehan,” Kellan gestured first at the unicorn closest to her and then at his own mare. Kellan knew the calling name of almost every unicorn in the herd – he had named most of them himself.   

“Hello Etana,” Quinn stroked the silky white mane of the gorgeous mare and then, in one swift movement, she grabbed a fistful and hauled herself up onto the unicorn’s back, tucking her legs into the space just in front of Etana’s powerful back legs.

“You ready?” Kellan called briskly. In answer, Quinn squeezed her legs against Etana’s powerful flank and held on tight as the mare reared up and then surged forward, Quinn’s spontaneous peal of laughter carried on the wind behind them.

They continued on in silence, the steady drumbeat of the unicorn’s hooves on the ground marking their progress. To the northwest, Quinn could see Giant’s Castle – a mountainous area nowhere near as high as Dragon’s Peak. Giant’s Castle was home to both the giants and the dwarves, the two species able to live in harmony with one another.

Quinn looked east and she could just make out Lunar Grove in the distance. Habitat of the werewolves at the full moon, Lunar Grove was a woodland sanctuary in which they could roam freely in wolf form. The werewolves, true to their wolf nature, were pack animals led by an Alpha male. Only the Alpha pair would reproduce, which, in Summerfeld, meant that there were few challengers to the Alpha’s rule, however, every now and again, a young male would rise up against his sire and take over as pack leader.

“Is Rafe still the werewolf Alpha?” Quinn called across to Kellan, the thought occurring to her. It had been two years since she had last set foot in Summerfeld, and, though she highly doubted it, things might have changed. Rafe had been the Alpha for an unprecedented seventy-four years when Quinn had left the Guardians to take care of Jack and Ava. She liked Rafe... he was very sociable and gregarious by nature, but a fair and worthy leader.

“No,” Kellan called back, startling her. “He was attacked by a newcomer called Caleb a few weeks ago. Rafe survived,” he added, and Quinn exhaled a sigh of relief. Typically, the new Alpha would kill the previous one because there was not enough territory in Summerfeld for lone wolves to exist in harmony with the pack. “He’s a lone wolf now.”

Quinn whistled in surprise. So Rafe would not be allowed back into Lunar Grove. Werewolves, like their ordinary wolf counterparts, were highly territorial. Lunar Grove was big enough for only one wolf pack and the Lunar pack occupied that territory. There had never been a lone wolf in Summerfeld, but Quinn knew that they tended to be more aggressive and far more dangerous than the average pack member.

“How will he hunt?” Quinn asked solemnly. The full moon was not too far off and a single wolf would have a difficult time bringing down a deer on his own. Kellan slowed Sheehan to a walk so they could talk and Quinn pulled Etana up beside him.   

“Channon is with him,” Kellan explained, “but he’s violently angry with her.”

Quinn wasn’t surprised that Rafe would be furious with Channon. Channon was Rafe’s breed mate – his wife, for all intents and purposes. Traditionally, when a new Alpha took control of the pack, he also took possession of the existing Alpha female. Channon should be safe within the pack now, being dominated by the new Alpha – Caleb, Kellan had called him.

“What are they going to do at the full moon?” Quinn asked.

“We’re still not sure. It’s next week,” Kellan glanced skyward automatically, although only the sun was visible. “They may need to be separated during the transformation.” Quinn agreed. If Rafe was angry enough he could pose a real threat to Channon.

“Are they staying in town?” Quinn asked. After all, the wolves were only in wolf form one night a month – the rest of their time was spent as humans.

“Yes, but none of the others will speak to them.” Wolf hierarchy applied, even to their human interactions.

“I’ve never heard of Caleb,” Quinn had racked her brain but she was fairly certain that the name didn’t ring a bell.

“You wouldn’t have. He was only brought into Summerfeld a few weeks ago. Your father found him.”