Son of Skye
by
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As the darkness pressed down, Nickolous struggled to bring his arm up, while around him swirled the unimaginable. Inwardly he shuddered at the brush of wings against his cheek, the knowledge of what was behind the feather soft touch spurring him on. The ability todraw on the strength the Ancients lent coursing through him as words, remembered, poured forth. “Orith. Old One. Where are you?” Owen called into the darkness, his ability to see hampered by the unnatural blackness that pressed against him making it nearly impossible to discern friend from foe. Disoriented, he struck out blindly, his senses guiding him as he struck something. “Owen!” The Old One rasped beside him as she grasped him, pulling him off balance. “Down.” The words were hissed as she pulled him to her. As he fell something brushed past him, soft tentacles caressing the side of his body. Almost immediately, he felt the pain as the acrid smell of burning skin assailed his senses. The Old One, recognizing the odor and what had caused it, wrapped her body about that of Owen, at the same time drawing the ancient words forth from that hidden place of her kind.
Almost immediately, Owen felt the power flowing through his body as the burning sensation ceased. Recovering quickly, he pulled away from the Old One, his concentration now on the assailants above him. From beside him, the Old One poured all of her remaining strength into focusing on what she must do.
As the Old One battled alongside Orith, Owen flew high, out of reach of the fanged ones that sought to pull him toward them. Power flowed through him and over him as something unidentified coursed through the caverns with a sudden rush of sound; unheard by the dark hoard that poured forth from the hidden places, their intent to destroy the companions before they reached the Flame.
“To me!” Nickolous held the staff above his head as streams of white-blue light shot out from its tip, dancing along the jagged rocks above them, the shrieks of agony echoing in their wake—seeking out the darkened places where th e unseen ones had hidden, waiting. Orith, struggling against something he could not see, broke free of the unseen thing that gripped him; hurtling forward to be grasped by the Old One, her gaze fierce as she focused on what was taking form in front of them.
“There.” Nickolous steadied the staff as it writhed with a life of its own. Impatient, it seemed, to pour forth what was needed to defeat the enemy.
“You must direct its power,” Lord Moshat spoke, his voice carrying above that of the storm that raged about them. Shrieking forms leapt at them; snarling and growling as they sought an opening to reach their quarry. Gabriel reared back as something lunged at him, narrowly missing him as Chera leapt high, her aim true; the big wolf shuddered involuntarily as the stench of anger and desperation grew, but now there was a new scent being carried through the air.
Fear.
Gabriel growled softly as Chera, her muzzle stained red, joined him, while above them the air swirled; no longer warm, icy tendrils reaching out to caress. Lord Moshat shivered as the Old One, her aged body reacting in kind to the sudden change reached out to Jerome, the forest warrior lending his strength now to that of the others. Thoughts poured forth between the companions as abilities fused. Gifts lent, acknowledged, and strengthened by the wisdom given by the elders of Skye. Orith blinked against the brilliant light as his body shuddered from the power coursing through it. Before him, before them all, Nickolous changed as the light from the staff engulfed him, slowly spreading out from his fingertips to embrace those who gathered about him; their one thought to protect him.
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About the Book
The clans of the four-legged and winged are at war. The sacred flame, the heart of all that is—or ever was—has been stolen.
In the exhilarating young adult novel, Son of Skye, Nickolous finds himself thrust into a world where the clans of the four-legged and the winged rule. The Sacred Flame, the heart of all living things has been stolen. Held captive by those who walk in darkness, hope wanes as it weakens for only a few hold the knowledge that if the flame is extinguished the worlds of knowing will turn inward upon themselves, and the clans of earth and sky will cease to be. It is up to Nickolous, a half-son of Skye to lead the way through a forbidden valley to the Three. Forest guardians long passed into memory, their tomb the gateway that leads to the Beneath.
A son of both worlds, belonging to neither, gifted by the elders, those old ones who watch through the veil that separates the worlds within worlds, Nickolous has to look deep within to help the clans and himself as he begins a perilous journey into the unknown. Protected by Gabriel, a blue-eyed wolf and his mate, Chera, guided by the Old One, her voice the wisdom of untold turnings past, and Owen, a snowy owl, Nickolous’s journey takes him into a world where winged warriors watch from above and darkness and light meet.
Only he can wield the power of the sacred staff….
About the Author
Thérèse Pilon grew up in Central Ontario and currently resides near Uxbridge, Ontario, working on a horse ranch with her husband and sons, and writing in her spare time. Ms. Pilon is inspired by her children, her husband, her love of nature, and the Teachings of the Native American People. Her next book is a sequel to Son of Skye, in which Nickolous's sister, Leah, is pulled through a gateway into the realm of the "Other."