Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture (5 page)

“Bran planned this well. There was one way he was able to get into your mind, when your defenses were down. That’s when you’re most vulnerable. Your protection of Arik was a perfect plan,” George said.

Bran?
Got into her mind? “No, I called out to Arik but he didn’t hear me. The ice quivered under my hand. That’s when I understood my scream would shatter the ice.” She saw the silent signal that passed between brother and sister. She didn’t like where this was going. They knew something that she didn’t. Her panic turned to fear. She had made a grave mistake. But what?

“The barrier was an enchantment and temporary. There was no way of knowing if the enchantment would fade before the portal closed with you inside.” That was why Arik was working so fast. “However, breaking the enchantment forced the portal to seal over—”

“But it was ice and it shattered. It didn’t seal.” She stood bent over the desk on fisted hands. “If I hadn’t taken action Arik would have died. I’m certain. Don’t either of you see that?” Her chin dropped to her chest and her hair cascaded forward, hiding her face.

George grabbed her by her shoulders. “Listen to me.” He made her face him. “It wasn’t ice. It was an enchantment. The primal scream is a powerful tool. That’s what you used.” He let her shoulders go. Distraught, she crossed her arms, held herself tight and turned away.

“What would have happened if I hadn’t screamed?” George rose to his full height, a nervous expression on his face. Rebeka glanced at Cora. She was staring at the floor. “What are you not telling me?”

“Arik used a mixture of fire and blood—”

“Lightning struck the ice. I remember the ice feeling hot.” She sank into the chair.

“He also used a chant against the ice element. If you hadn’t forced the enchantment it would have faded when Arik finished his chant. You would have stepped out of the portal and it would have sealed. When you used the primal scream, the magick came apart and the portal sealed with you inside.”

“He would have died if he kept going.” The words stuck in her throat. “I couldn’t bear to see him hurt. His blood was everywhere.” The red smears on the icy film were real. She looked at both of them, her eyes begging them to understand, not wanting to accept the truth. “I saved him.”

“I’m sorry. The portal is gone. No one can bring it back.” He hesitated. “Not even the Grand Master,” George muttered, scrubbing his face with his hand.

Maybe they were wrong. They had to be. She heard Arik’s last words—he would find her. He believed it, and so would she. There must be another way.

“Look at me,” George demanded. She snapped around. “We’re with you in this. Together. We. Will. Find. Another. Way.” She was thankful for their help, but one thing swirled in her head. If she had waited…if she hadn’t rushed to meet him…if…

Arik, what have I done?

“I’ve spent the past two days,” Rebeka said, sitting with Cora in the library, “making a list of the places we might find information and reconnected with several researchers. They’re checking their libraries and archives for the missing journals. I also asked them to research Bran of Fayne Manor. They didn’t find anything but said they’d keep searching. I’ll start on the secondary list later today.” Rebeka read through her notebook, several industry directories and old auction listings she had on the table.

“Do you have any idea why there’s so little information about Bran?” Cora helped her organize the papers on the library table.

“It’s as if he never existed.” That was an interesting notion. “Throughout history, people were erased for the purpose of being forgotten. I remember Bran being a proud boy with a quick sense of humor. Although he was loved by everyone, he struggled for his place in the family. Denied by them would be the worst punishment imaginable.” Rebeka stared at the documents on the table.

Arik and Bran had been the ringleaders of all her childhood adventures. She and Leticia, and even Logan, cheered them on playing their supporting role. The pain on Arik’s face and hesitancy in his voice when he told her Bran fought against the family set off signals that there was more to the story, but Arik had internal demons he had to conquer before he would tell her. Now she wished she had pressed him for answers.

“Why don’t you take a break and come with me to Avebury. I have to drop off some papers at the National Trust’s office for George. After I’m through there I thought we’d do a little shopping, have a nice lunch,” Cora said.

How could she spend time idling away? Rebeka glanced at her notes. Cora had been a dear over the past days. She was compassionate with a gentle soul. And was easy to be with and talk to. Spending time with her would be nice, but she had to keep focused on returning to Arik. So far, she’d found nothing that would help her, not even where to look next. She needed…something to give her a direction.

“I know you want to dig in and keep looking but a short break will clear your mind. Besides, we won’t be gone long. Promise.”

She could use some fresh air. She glanced out the terrace door. Maybe getting away from the manor was what she needed. “Sure. Let me put these books away then we can leave.” Rebeka put on her backpack and threaded her staff into the leather straps. She juggled the books in her arms.

“Here, let me help you.” Cora pulled several books off the stack and followed her to the back of the library where her personal reference materials had been shelved.

“You can give them to me now.” Rebeka spun around to take the books from her. “Cora?” The woman stared at Rebeka’s backpack.

“What’s wrong?” Rebeka followed Cora’s line of sight to see what was behind her.

“Not behind you. You’re wearing it.” She pointed to Rebeka’s staff.

Confused, Rebeka pulled out her staff. Select runes glowed. The only time the runes had glowed was when she and Arik both touched the staff. She searched around; was he near?

“It didn’t start until you were close to the bookcase.” Rebeka passed her staff in front of the shelves. Like a Geiger counter, the closer it passed to the document drawer the more her staff reacted. Cora opened the drawer, peered inside and rummaged through the items. “It’s a carved ball,” Cora said, pulling it out of the drawer. “Move it over the ball.” Rebeka passed her staff over the ball and the runes grew bright.

“Nothing’s happening to the stone. No glowing. No vibrations, nothing at all. Do you know what’s causing your staff to light up?” Cora looked into the drawer. Rebeka examined her staff, trying to make sense of what happened. She examined the stone.

“This is an Orkney carved stone ball, unique to Skara Brae. Is there anything else from Orkney in the library?” Rebeka stepped away from the stone. The glowing runes dimmed and died.

“No, I don’t see anything else. There’re some papers in the drawer. Looks like receipts of some sort.” The shuffling of paper filled the silent room as Cora rummaged through them. Rebeka waved her staff over the ball again. The runes brightened, but why.

“It’s a wedding invitation.” Cora pulled the yellowed document out of the drawer. The old writing was hard to decipher but Cora plowed on. “‘Your most royal highness, it is with great happiness and pleasure that I announce my forthcoming wedding to Caylyn of Orkney on May 1, 1590, at Fayne Manor. We hope you will grace our event with your attendance. Your servant, Lord Bran of Orkney.’ Well, that’s short and sweet.” Orkney—of course. Bran was from Orkney, not Fayne Manor.

The invitation was the first mention they found of Bran but the Skara Brae stone held Rebeka’s interest. Why did it make her staff glow? She understood why it glowed when Arik touched it but she had no idea why her staff reacted to the Orkney stone. There had to be some connection between the stone and Arik. A sign. She jumped up, electrified by the idea. It had to be a sign. She had a hard time trying to contain her excitement. Now all she had to figure out was what he wanted her to do.

“Has your staff ever glowed like that before?” Cora asked. Rebeka put the stone back into the drawer and closed it. She was giddy knowing she’d be with him soon.

“Only when Arik and I both touch it. We were in the high meadow, after we fought Katherine. We both touched my staff. It lit up and my memories returned.” Speaking of it now brought to mind her anxiety when she watched the runes glow. One by one, they lit and marched along her staff, his arm and hers. She glanced at her staff now quiet in her hand. By the time they returned to the manor, memories had tumbled back into place, the closeness of her family and Arik’s. And that they loved each other before her father took her away didn’t surprise her.

“The runes that glowed?” They both knew which runes glowed on her staff.

“The sigil of my name and Arik’s.”

“The sigil’s believed to have magical powers.” Cora paused. “Do you have any idea why only that image lit?”

“I’m not certain whether it’s an invitation or a command appearance. Either way, it’s a trip to Orkney.” Apprehension flashed across Cora’s face. Rebeka let out a deep breath. “What else could it mean? Orkney. Our sigil in lights. If that’s not an invitation I don’t know what is.”

“We need to speak to George. I don’t think he’ll see it your way.” Cora was nervous.

Rebeka’s chin rose in a blatant challenge. George wasn’t making the decision on whether she visited Orkney. Her cheeks burned in frustration. She took a calming breath. George and Cora had worked for a long time trying to find her. Maybe it was their natural order of things, for Cora to defer to him. It wasn’t hers.

Her heart skipped a beat. “He sealed all the portals here.” She hefted her staff. “He must have found a portal in Orkney.” It was so obvious to her. How did Cora not see it? “You don’t agree.”

“It’s not that. I’m a bit skeptical, that’s all. I’ve watched you these past few days go from soaring heights to some deep depression. Nothing would please me more than for you to be reunited with Arik. But let’s not take this too fast. Let’s think about going to Skara Brae. I’m certain George will know how to interpret this.”

She wasn’t so certain George would know what to do. If there was any possibility of returning to Arik she was going to investigate it. And that didn’t mean remaining in the library. “This is the only lead we have.”

“It’s not a nice place,” came Cora’s slow and careful response.

Rebeka glanced at her. “I know. I’ve been there many times, four hundred years ago. I know exactly how ‘nice’ is it.” She hoped she sounded stronger than she felt. She wanted George to agree with her, even come with her. But in the end, she was going to Orkney with or without his help.

October 15, 1605 — Afternoon

Arik held court sitting on the dais in the Great Manor Chair. The old heirloom had been unused for decades. Previous lords of the house had found the massive carved seat intimidating, but not Arik. Its size fit him—as did its significance, the role of deciding his tenant’s disputes.

“Was that the last?” He leaned forward, his hands on the chair’s carved arms, eager to get back to his tower. He was spending too much time every other Wednesday with these interviews, but it was better than traipsing around the countryside speaking to each tenant. He had little enough time as it was to research the old documents. He glanced out the window, his eyes on the tower. Didn’t anyone understand he was losing precious time?

“Yes, for now,” Logan said.

Arik bolted out of the chair and was halfway across the room, Logan by his side.

“Everyone seems to be on edge,” Logan said as he and Arik left the Great Hall. Arik glanced at his brother from the corner of his eye. Was Logan blaming him for all these disputes?

“What does that mean?” Arik stopped and grabbed Logan’s arm, pulling him around.

“What do I mean?” Arik recognized the warring in Logan’s eyes. It wasn’t like Logan to beg for an argument. “What disputes did you hear today and two weeks ago and two weeks before that?” Logan didn’t wait for Arik to answer. “Meaningless, petty arguments and fights. People who have been friends all their lives are arguing over nothing. And why? I’ll tell you.” The rage that swept through Logan’s voice brought Arik up short. He’d never seen Logan in such a fit. “You’ve been locked in your tower room for weeks. You don’t speak to your soldiers, your tenants, the villagers, to say nothing of your family.” Logan stepped closer to Arik with each word until Arik could smell Logan’s anger.

“You don’t understand.” Arik moved to push Logan away but his brother caught his hand.

Arik glared at Logan. In a frozen tableau, neither he nor his brother moved. After several heartbeats Logan released Arik’s hand.

“You are not the only one who lost Rebeka. We all have. But we have lost more—much more. We’ve also lost you.” Something in Logan’s tone made him pull up.

The fight drained out of him like a rupture in a water skin. He studied Logan’s face. He looked past his handsome features, boundless devotion and unwavering trust. But his heart was pierced when he recognized his brother’s deep disappointment—in him.

He fixed his stare over Logan’s shoulder. He couldn’t stand to see himself mirrored in his brother’s eyes.

“When Leticia died you got us through those dark days.” Arik refocused on Logan in spite of his pain. “You kept everyone together, caring for each other, talking, working, moving forward, but we did it together—not only for Skylar and Aubrey, who were so small and orphaned, but me, the tenants, the villagers, our soldiers. You told me together we could face anything.” Logan paused. “And we did.” His voice low, he added, “This is no different.”

They stood for several moments not speaking, Logan’s words seeping into his head. He remembered that time, how Letty’s death touched everyone. In helping them he had helped himself get through her loss.

“I love her, Logan, and will do whatever needs to be done to get her back. But others shouldn’t pay that price.” With an unwavering stare, he looked over the terrace railing. He wasn’t the only person hurting. Logan was right. “After all my talk to Rebeka about examining a situation from different viewpoints I batter away at one, magick. I don’t know where else to search.”

Logan was right. He had isolated himself from everyone caring about what Rebeka meant to
him
and not about what she meant to the others
.
“There is much to do.” He gave his brother a sideways glance.

“I’m ready, so are the others. Do you have a plan?” Arik took a deep breath. For the first time in weeks it was clean and sweet.

“The start of one. Would you help—”

“I’ve been waiting for you to ask. Where do we begin?”

Present Day

“I can’t find any druid information here.” Rebeka struggled to contain her temper and the urge to throw the books against the wall. “Nothing.” She spit out the word and glanced at George, who was not saying a word from his place across the table. He didn’t appear to be any happier.

“You’re quite right. This is the last of the old texts.” George closed the book, his fingers drummed on the leather binding. He stared into space and she questioned what he was searching for. “That leaves one other place, the druid sanctuary,” he murmured. He slammed his hand against the old book. The unexpected sound made her jump. “The missing documents must be there. I stand in front of the garrison wall knowing the sanctuary is behind it but none of the chants open it. I was certain you would know how.” The accusation in his voice angered her even more.

“I was never there when Arik or Logan opened it.” George remained silent but Rebeka noted how he shifted in his seat. At last, he was coming to the same conclusion she had three weeks earlier. “Look, George, neither of us knows how to open the sanctuary. I haven’t the time to research what needs to be done. I’m not even certain it’s documented. But we’re wasting time.” She ran her hand through her hair as she paced in front of him. “I can’t wait any longer. For weeks we’ve investigated every inch of the manor and the grounds. We even searched the old mill and Oak Meadow. I’ve waved my staff around like a madwoman with a divining rod. Nothing.” She stopped in front of him. Her patience was running out. They hadn’t found an answer because—“Orkney is the answer.”

“Not until we have more information about the significance of your staff and the Orkney stone. We’re missing something. I can feel it. Orkney is Bran’s seat of power. We have no idea what to expect there. Even after all these centuries there may be danger. He threatened your life before you married Arik. We have no idea what he’ll do now that you two are married.” He was stalling. Perhaps it was a reaction to his vocation. Attorneys always wanted to have all the information before they acted. She, on the other hand, was content with the information they had. Her and Arik’s sigil lit up when the staff was passed over the Orkney stones.

She took her staff and ran her hand over the familiar carved runes. “George, I’m going to Orkney. You can come with me or stay here but I’m leaving tomorrow.”

George waited without saying a word, challenging her to go through with it. She supposed the scowl he gave her was his best intimidating attorney stare. It didn’t faze her.

“I’ll have Trudy make reservations on tomorrow’s flight. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

She hoped she did, too.

“All set?” George asked Rebeka. She read a text message as they settled in the rental car at the Kirkwall Airport in Orkney. They had no baggage for the short day trip.

“Cora sent us a message from the Skara Brae archivist. She found some papers we may be interested in seeing. She has them at the information center for us.” Rebeka clicked off her phone and stowed it in her pouch.

“As an attorney I’ve been schooled never to walk into a situation without knowing my opponent and with certainty not when I’m unprepared.” His hand hit the steering wheel. “I have no idea what to expect when we arrive.” His gaze slid from the windscreen to her face. He took a breath. “I don’t know Bran’s capabilities, especially with Dark Magick. Nor do I have any idea how to protect you.”

She was tired of his challenging stare. She much preferred to distract herself by admiring the wildflowers that carpeted the meadow. “You don’t have to. I’m capable of protecting myself.” She didn’t have to worry about protecting herself. All she had to concern herself with was traveling through the portal. It was uncomfortable but that didn’t matter. She’d be with Arik soon.

He didn’t say anything. She knew George well enough to know he wasn’t easy to scare. If he was concerned, she should be terrified. But she wasn’t.

“You think we’ll find a portal at Skara Brae.” She didn’t want anything negative. She wanted him to be positive. Intent, focus and determination—that’s what magick needed. She straightened in her seat and put on a poker face that would have made Arik proud. Confidence began with two things: knowing your abilities and a bit of attitude. Right now she was heavy on the attitude and light on the rest. She hoped that would be enough to see her through.

Stay
calm
, she told herself.
Keep focused.

“We shouldn’t be here. This is a place of Dark Magick.” His vehemence caught her off guard until she understood his anxiety had increased as they got closer to Skara Brae.
The world is a duality. Everything has two sides
. It was the first magick lesson Arik had taught her
. So it is with magick, good and dark.

The air crackled with energy. The gentle breeze of good magick that gave you a rush of energy—the feeling of being one with nature—along with the blustery gusts of Dark Magick with its swirling anger, anxiety and feelings of helplessness, it was all around them. Her instinct to come here was right. This was where the magick gathered. This was where she had to be.

“You think Arik called you here.” She disregarded the sarcastic ring in his voice and swallowed hard, trying to keep her anger to herself. Couldn’t he feel the energy?

“The glowing runes on my staff were an interesting invitation. It would be foolish to ignore it. If I can get back and stop this feud, if things can get back to normal, it will all be worth it.” His pursed lips indicated he wasn’t convinced.

“We’ll do nothing until we understand the state of affairs.” George’s expression was determined and set. He left no room for negotiation. She turned away and stifled a small snort. She would decide for herself what she needed to do.

George glanced at the dashboard clock. “We’ll get to the estate a bit ahead of schedule.”

They drove a few more minutes before he pulled off the road into a car park. They got out of the car and were pelted with a strong, salty wind. As far as the eye could see there were no trees. In its starkness the barren and desolate landscape had a unique beauty, but only in small doses. Nothing had changed in four hundred years. Even with her family around her this place had been difficult.

She started toward the estate house, carrying her staff.

“Don’t you want to get the papers from the archivist? You told me we’re to meet her at the information center,” George called after her.

“Would you mind getting them? I want to get familiar with the surroundings.” She didn’t wait for him to answer or to interfere. She continued toward Bran’s house. The brisk wind muffled the rhythmic tap of her walking staff on the long flagstone path. Leaning into the wind, she moved on with determination. The tall cotton grass on either side of the walkway swayed with the breeze. Its mop cotton-like flowers dotted the landscape as if a truckload of cotton balls had been scattered across the area. A small crack in her determination surfaced and her step faltered. She had to be right. Her anxiety in check, a soft, rhythmic vibration from her staff encouraged her to keep going. She was almost there.

She had a clear view of the house now. It was made of fine Orkney red sandstone blocks. From afar the stones had a rosy glow in the fall sun. For her the building had a sad beauty that started at the front door. She hurried forward. But the closer she got to the structure the more she noted its worn, tired appearance. Its warmth had been deceptive. By the time she got to the front gate a sense of dread filled the air. She flicked her hand in the air in defiance, as if she could banish the mood. The staff’s slight vibration had grown steadier and with it her eagerness to find the portal.

When she arrived at the doorway she glanced back in time to see George enter the information center. Good. He wouldn’t interfere. Straightening her shoulders, she let herself in and closed the door behind her. The damp, musty air tickled her nose but she ignored it. Instead she focused on her staff’s delicate throbbing and the knowledge that this was the way back to Arik. She would be with him soon. All she had to do was be quick and find the portal before anybody stopped her. She couldn’t let that happen.

Her staff in front of her, she moved it like a probe on a Geiger counter and followed the clicks. The gathering speed of the clicks led her up the stairs and down a dark musty hall to a door in the older section of the house. She hesitated, her heart pounding in her ears. Arik. Her hand was poised above the doorknob. “This is ridiculous. Open the door,” she muttered.

The doorknob turned by itself and began to open. She pulled her hand away. Had she pushed it? Uncertain, she remained where she was. “Rebeka, do come in.” The door opened wide. In front of her a man stood near a wingback chair by the fireplace. “We’ve been expecting you.”

She remained at the doorway peering through an iridescent haze. Tilting her head she tried to focus on the man. An acute sense of loss washed over her. It wasn’t Arik. She glanced around the room but it was empty. “Who are you?”

He clamped his hand over his heart. “I’m offended. Surely you remember me, dear sister. Come, come. Don’t just stand there. Join us and make yourself comfortable.” He gestured to a chair near him.

Bran.

Her staff heated. Where was Arik? She crossed the threshold not remembering how she got there. The haze thinned as she came deeper into the room. The door slammed shut behind her. She stopped. Her staff went cold. She drew it close to her chest. There would be no going back now.