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"What about going back to the house and thinking there?" Flint suggested. "We'll be more comfortable, there's less risk of an angry kelpie suddenly appearing and Rónán can go for the shifted swim I'm sure he's longing to go for."
"Please," Rónán responded. "It's been a long time."
Macey rested a hand on his arm, trying to send him as much comfort as she could. Spending that long without shifting was pure torture. She could completely understand why he wanted to swim. Plus, she also wanted to see him in his selkie form. She longed to see the graceful and powerful way she was sure he could swim.
"Yes, let's do that," Macey agreed. "We can make a better plan then."
The others agreed and she prepared herself to travel the Staran again. Though this time she'd be with Flint and Cam who'd travelled dozens of times before.
They all linked hands and they stepped towards them. But the closer they got, the greater Macey's sense of foreboding grew. Somewhere deep within her, she was convinced the Staran weren't going to let them out quite where they wanted to go.
Twenty
They were thrown out of the Staran in a tangle of limbs.
“What the bleeding waves was that?” Macey asked breathlessly, struggling to sit up. “That’s never happened before.”
Her head was spinning and she had to blink several times for her vision to return to normal. Only then did she see where they’d landed.
She gasped.
Seven stone thrones surrounded them, the same ones they’d sat at when they’d defeated Self-Doubt.
“Why are we here?” Amber whispered into the empty room, scrambling to her feet. “What are we supposed to do here?”
They gathered in the centre of the room, all slightly unsteady on their feet from the turbulent journey on the Staran.
“Why did they bring us here?” Cam muttered, walking over to the throne that had his name carved into the headrest.
Rónán cleared his throat. “While you all seem to know this place, I have no clue. Anybody want to fill me in?”
Macey took his hand and led him to the throne bearing her name. “These are the Wardens’ seats. We’ve been here once before, when we defeated Self-Doubt. Back then, we had help though. Now, I have no idea what to do or why we’re even here.”
Suddenly, blue flames flickered into existence above each of the thrones. Macey jumped back, her water magic roaring to life inside of her, ready to fight the fire. She smothered her powers, somehow knowing that these flames weren’t there to harm them.
“What the….” Flint exclaimed and reached out to touch the fire, but before he got close enough, the flames disappeared as if they’d never been there in the first place.
“Well, that was anticlimactic,” Izban drawled, but then his eyes widened and he picked something up from his throne. “Look, there are notes!”
Macey checked her own throne, and there it was, a tiny, scorched piece of parchment.
KELPIES.
That didn’t make any sense. She knew that she was a kelpie, she didn’t need a mysterious message to tell her that.
“Kabouters and kludde,” Jared read aloud.
“Ceasg,” Amber said, looking at her piece of paper just as cluelessly as Macey felt.
It turned out that they all had a different species on their parchments. Cam had na fir ghorma, the storm kelpies, Flint had the sìth and Izban had…
“Prophets?” he asked incredulously. “How many prophets do we know besides Malan?”
Macey frowned. “The cù sìth gave me a prophecy, but she’s dead. Unless she’s returned as a ghost dog, Malan style.”
“Fedelm!” Amber exclaimed. “The woman who met us at the pub when we went to see Nessie. Who brought our men back to us.”
She blushed a little, probably thinking of how she’d reunited with Izban by snogging a lot.
