BY POPULAR DEMAND_VICTOR STANDISH LIVES

By the number of comments and the emails that I received,

Victor Standish cheated oblivion yet again!

Book IV of THE LEGEND OF VICTOR STANDISH :

THREE SPIRIT KNIGHT will be written. 

But first, I have to finish BEST OF ENEMIES. 

 THE LAST SHAMAN is one of my more popular novels.  Its hero, Wolf Howl, is in BEST OF ENEMIES.

In it, Wolf Howl teaches a class of Sidhe, revenants (vampires), and Ningyo's (dimensional visitors who loathe mankind.) 

Here is Wolf Howl teaching the arrogant supernaturals in an outdoor class they thought was in Faerie ... but they have just discovered it is on our plane of existence.

             Wolf Howl smiled grimly at the change in their expressions.  

        “We sit in the lap of our Mother.  Yes, even you who would destroy her.  From her, we, and all living things come.  We shall soon pass, each of us at our appointed time.”

        He breathed in deeply.  “But this place where now we sit will go on forever.”

He gestured all around us.  “”Everything is possessed of personality, only differing from us in form.”

        His eyes seemed to sink deep within his bronze face, a creased map of the hard seasons he had survived. 

“Knowledge is inherent in all things.  The world is a library.  Its books are the stones, leaves, grass, birds, and animals that share with us the storms and blessings of GrandMother.”

       He bent to peer at the base of the teaching boulder.   “From the ant we see that industry and teamwork accomplishes wonders.”

       Midir smirked. “It is appropriate you focus on the ant, shaman.  Humans are like ants to us.”

       Wolf Howl sighed as he rose.  “Anyone who has shared a bed with a mosquito knows better than to underestimate the power of small things.”

       He looked up to the branches above us.  I hushed in a breath like everyone else … but for a different reason.  It was the First Hawk, Little Brother, studying each and every one of us. 

       “From the hawk, we see how the wise hunter must ever be vigilant.”

        I started as Little Brother darted up from the branch to soar skillfully and effortlessly between the limbs to disappear into the azure skies above.

       Wolf Howl smiled, “My People also learned that beauty, grace, and death often walk the same path, fly the same sky.”

He sighed, "We learned to do what only the student of nature ever learns and that is to feel beauty.  We never railed at the storms, the furious winds, and the biting frost and snow.  What was simply was.  We adjusted to the changes.”

He closed those piercing eyes.   “Bright days.  Deadly dark nights.  Both are simply extensions of the Great Mystery.”

Those striking eyes opened, and the force of them hit me like a hard wind.  “We simply accepted both, reveling in the closeness of the Great Holiness.”

He swept his hand in a broad pass, taking in the entire glade.   “Every part of this soil is sacred to my people.”

His eyes narrowed, “This world you would invade is sacred.  Every hillside, every valley, every plain, and grove has been hallowed by some sad or happy event in days long vanished.”

He nodded downwards.  “The very grass you now stand on responds more willingly to our footsteps than to yours because it is rich with the blood of our ancestors.  The very soles of our feet tingle with their spirits.”

Wolf Howl’s eyes seemed to grow larger somehow.   “And when the last red man shall have perished, and the memory of my tribe shall have become a myth among your people, these shores will swarm with the invisible dead.”

His voice seemed to chill the marrow of my bones as it deepened.  


“At night, when the streets of your cities and villages are silent and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning dead of my People that once lived and still love this beautiful land.  Those dead will come upon you as you lay tossing in your troubled sleep.”

Wolf Howl radiated such power that my skin felt raw with the static electricity.   “Then, you will learn the terrible meaning of … responsibility.”

He suddenly flashed a deadly, cold smile.  “Class dismissed.”

(Many thanks to the incomparable Leonora Roy for her evocative artwork.)