Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture (21 page)

He was seated at the table in the tower room with his tablet, a counterpoint to the ancient runes that clung to the walls.

His eyes tired, he pushed himself back and took a deep breath when the smell of smoky pine drifted through the window. He turned and looked out. The sky glowed orange in the distance—in the direction of the mill. He bolted out of his chair, knocking it over. He leaned over the window’s ledge.

“Fire,” he bellowed.

He ran from the tower and through the library terrace doors, the quickest route to the gatehouse and the barn. He got to the garrison where Marle and John were rousing the men. “Fire at the mill. Move,” John shouted.

Frank was already backing out his Spitfire. “Sir,” he called to him. “Get in.”

They raced up the rise and through the drive. Continuing at a hell-bent speed, they crossed the river. The mill wasn’t far ahead. Frank pulled into the clearing. Arik was out of the car before it came to a stop. The roof and upper level were fully ablaze.

“Frank, go to the river and open the sluice gate to the flume. I’ll pull the flume to the open window on the top floor. We should be able to save the gears and other two floors.” Frank grabbed a tire iron from the car and sprinted off. He had to move fast before the fire spread to the gear room.

Arik tore off his jacket and started climbing the outside of the building to the flume. It was scorched and still warm. Someone had moved the heavy chute but not quite enough. He tugged it inch by painstaking inch until he got it close enough to the building so most of the water would go through the window. The dousing would slow the advancing fire and protect the mechanism below.

He looked inside. Half the floor had been removed. From where he stood, it was a sheer three-floor drop to the lowest level of the mill. He didn’t have to bother opening the flume gates on his side. The water would overflow it quickly.

A low moan echoed in the empty space.

“Who’s there?” He peered into the darkness but knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything. Did an animal get trapped inside?

Silence.

He sensed more than heard the water rushing down the flume. Another moan.

No. The sound was distinctly human.

With the force of the running water it would be a matter of minutes before the gates gave way. The bottom of the mill would flood quickly.

He climbed down the wall into the wheel trough and squeezed himself past the axle shaft. He jumped over the pit where the vertical gear would be placed. Right now it was in the gear room. A dark, dank, tight space, he ignored the pungent odor that permeated the air and found the door that led to the inside of the mill. He tried to open it but it wouldn’t budge. If he was to survive he’d have to go back the way he came, through the wheel trough. Not an easy feat with tons of water pouring on him and the waterwheel threatening to turn.

Another loud moan led him back to the pit. Someone was lying at the bottom. He lowered himself into it and turned the body over.

Bill looked at him.

“Can you move?” How did the man get here? He didn’t have time for questions now. He had to get them both out.

“I…I can’t feel my hands,” Bill moaned.

There was a loud rumbling. Arik was certain the water was hitting the locked sluice gates. Sprays began to pelt them from above. It was a matter of time before the sluice gate broke and the wheel would start.

If they stayed where they were the pit would flood—he and Bill would have no way out. Even a druid Grand Master wouldn’t be able to save them.

The waterwheel lurched. There was no time. He hoisted Bill on his shoulder. The water spray turned into a cascade. The wheel strained and the axle vibrated erratically.

He concentrated and murmured the words of protection. The shaking axle eased. He climbed out of the pit and threw his leg through the opening into the trough. Carefully, he began to squeeze through. Bill moaned, breaking his concentration. He refocused but not quickly enough. The axle wobbled.

He pushed through as the wheel brake splintered and the waterwheel began to turn.

Rebeka jumped up. She sniffed the air and knew—fire. She grabbed her pouch and staff and raced to the gatehouse as the last soldier was getting ready to ride.

“Where’s the fire?”

“The mill. We’re following Lord Arik and Frank.” His car filled with people, he left.

Rebeka was already on her cell phone. “There’s a fire at the mill.” She spoke to George as she rushed on. “Arik and the men have already gone there. I’m going now. Meet us there.” She ended the call and headed to the garage. Her car was blocked in by a student’s.

She didn’t stop to think.

A moment later she had on a helmet and the Triumph wound up. She knew Arik would be in the thick of things and she needed to get to him. She raced across the fields and jumped the bogs instead of taking the longer route along the road. She was almost there when she came to the stone wall. It was too high to jump. Anxious, she rode alongside the wall for some time then stopped. It was taking her in the wrong direction.

She turned the Triumph and raced a good hundred yards perpendicular down a small depression. She took a wide turn and fishtailed the back of the motorbike around.

She revved the engine and headed for the wall at full speed. The bike caught the rise and sent her airborne.

The back tire brushed against the stone as the bike cleared the wall.

She landed hard. The bike wobbled and leaned to one side, nearly wiping out but it remained upright with her still on it. She knew staying upright wasn’t her skill but dumb luck. She crossed the stream and continued on, hoping her luck held out. She could see the smoke and flames above the trees. She turned the bend, gave the engine more gas and skidded into the mill yard. Men were using anything to fight the fire. She set the bike down and threw off the helmet. She rushed from man to man searching for Arik.

He was nowhere to be found.

A shiver of panic rushed through her.
Where is he?
“Major,” she shouted and grabbed the man’s arm. “Have you seen Arik?”

“Frank said he was by the waterwheel.” He turned to a knot of men. “Jaxon, get some men. The wheel is turning. Get to the flume on top of the wheel and get a bucket line started.” The major went with the men.

She ran to the mill door and with care put her palms on it. It wasn’t warm. The fire wasn’t here yet. She opened the door. With the top of her nightshirt covering her mouth she burst inside, but the smoke was too thick for her to get far. She came out coughing. Flashes of pictures bombarded her. She ignored them. Her head ached but she wouldn’t acknowledge it.

She was determined to find him. She ran to the side of the mill, thinking to slip in through the window. Great puffs of steam filled the area. She couldn’t see the window. Tracks of tears streamed down her sooty cheeks. She closed her eyes and used all her energy to concentrate on him. “My heart,” she repeated under her breath over and over. She opened her eyes.

Steam gathered on the millrace coming from the large wheel. A thick vapor billowed and grew as more water hit the fire. The water coming down the millrace grew from a trickle to a fast-moving stream racing back to the river. She tilted her head and took in how the fire backlit the steam and gave it a flickering, soft orange otherworldly glow.

“My heart,” she murmured. Swirls of steam roiled in the center. Slowly the silhouette of a man emerged.

“Arik,” she muttered. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding and felt the corners of her mouth tug in a relieved smile. His stride was strong and determined.

She ran to him.

“Major,” she yelled over her shoulder. The man was all at once at their side. Together they eased the man off Arik’s shoulder and got him to the ground. The major was already evaluating his soldier.

“What happened?” It didn’t take much to see Arik was in better shape than the man he carried.

Arik, at least, was walking.

She looked at the major. “Who is it?”

“It’s Bill,” Arik said as he faced the major. “How is he?”

“He’s been beaten pretty bad and his hands are burned.” The major gave them a haunted expression. Arik put his hand on the major’s shoulder.

“I’ll take care of him.” Rebeka examined Bill’s pale skin and rapid breathing. Afraid he was going into shock, she elevated his feet and made him as comfortable as she could. More students arrived in a caravan with buckets and pails, leaving them strewn on the ground for anyone who needed them.

“You and the major go and help the others. I’ll stay with Bill,” Rebeka said.

“Where is the worst of it?” Arik asked the major.

“On the other side,” was all he said. He gave Rebeka a curt nod and was gone.

“Rebeka.” Cora ran to her. “We’ve called for help. They said there was a serious fire at the newspaper office in Avebury and would be here as soon as possible.”

“Do you have a first-aid kit?” Rebeka asked.

“Yes, George keeps one in the car.” She rushed to the car and came back with the kit.

Rebeka rummaged through the contents and picked out what she needed. “Cora, fill one of those buckets with water.” Both of Bill’s hands were blistered, a mix of second- and third-degree burns. She made certain he wasn’t wearing any rings. “Bill, can you hear me?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said through clenched teeth. She knew he was in pain and was frustrated she had limited resources to help him.

Cora returned. “Here’s the water.”

“Help me wrap his hands with the gauze. We must keep his fingers separated then I can bathe them in the water.” When they finished she poured cool water over the bandages to give him some relief.

“Can you spare some bandages?” Marle stood in front of them. “There are some men on the other side of the building that need help.”

“I’ll stay with Bill,” she said to Cora. “Go with Marle.” Cora took what she could and left to help the others.

Alone with Bill, Rebeka kept his bandages damp. There wasn’t much more she could do. She peered down the path. Where was the ambulance? Bill fidgeted. With her back against a tree she chanted to soothe him—or was it to soothe herself?

She wasn’t certain, but it didn’t matter. Bill quieted and that’s what counted.

The cadence of her chant marked time with her heartbeat that echoed in her ears. Light-headed, with a sense of weightlessness, she concentrated harder and dove deeper into her chant. Her father’s voice mixed with hers was both familiar and encouraging. She knew he wasn’t there but that didn’t matter. She embraced it and followed his lead.

The sounds of the disaster around her quieted until they were indistinct. She concentrated hard and continued to chant, going deeper than she had ever gone before.

Distorted pictures moved through her mind. She kept her focus on the chant. They stretched and faded. Children running in a field, a mother’s kiss, a father’s pride, a husband’s love.

The drone of the chant and rapt in concentration, took her to a place that swirled with darkness. Faster and faster she repeated the chant. Tighter and tighter her voice choked the darkness. She knew where she was. Skara Brae. Brighter and brighter the place became until in a burst of brilliance the darkness was gone. So was the vision of Skara Brae.

She was bombarded with an onslaught of memories and sensations as they came up from the depths of her mind.

She kept repeating the chant, not willing to lose what she’d fought so hard to gain.

As the sky lightened she saw that only small wisps of smoke remained. Now she watched the sun begin to peek over the hill, exposing the disaster. The stone walls of the first two floors were blackened and dripping with water. There was severe damage to the roof and walls of the third floor. She scooped the last of the water out of the bucket and sprinkled it on Bill’s bandages. The sluice doors had been blocked. The millrace was almost dry. She’d have to go to the stream for more.

She didn’t move. She wanted to go over the memories again. She wanted to see his smile, feel his touch and hear his voice. He wasn’t a dream. He found her as he’d promised. Her lips moved as she repeated the chant.

“How’s Bill?”

She glanced at Arik as he knelt next her. At last.

Exhausted, she let the sight of him wash over her.

He wasn’t a dream. She wanted to cry, laugh, scream—but most of all she wanted him to hold her. He had come for her.

She examined him like a hungry person searching for a meal. His face was sooty and his eyes were bright if a bit tired. His T-shirt was torn and wet. He smelled of smoke but—she took a deep breath—under it all he smelled like Arik.

Her Arik.

“He seems to be resting comfortably, dozing on and off. I’ve been keeping the dressing wet with cool water. His breathing seems even and I don’t think he has a fever.” She let out a relieved sigh. She’d been waiting for hours to speak to him and now she didn’t want to speak at all.

He was here with her. She was going to burst into a thousand pieces.

He signaled to a redheaded attendant who stood close by. “When the emergency team arrived they examined his hands and left you to tend to him,” Arik said. The attendant removed Bill to the triage area.