Beneath the Hallowed Hill (24 page)

He put his weight on his left leg, testing it. “It’s a little tender.”

“You’ll have to come back, then.”

“Fine, but you never answered my question.”

“What question?”

“Are you upset with me?”

“About what?”

“I’m too old for her.”

“You’re not even through your first century,” she said, dismissing his objection.

“I’m fifty-two.”

Pleione tilted up her beautiful face, so much more elegant than Megan’s, and laughed. “She’ll catch up with you soon enough.”

Govannan threw himself down beside her and stretched luxuriously on the warm sand. “I can’t wait.”

“Why did you send her off if you’re so eager?” She sat up and squeezed water out of her hair.

“Because I need her to grow into her own before we work together. She’s a powerhouse. Do you know that?”

Pleione’s smile was full of maternal pride. “Really?”

“Absolutely.” He looked out at the horizon. “We’re going to make a great pair.”

“She feels the same?”

He frowned. “I don’t know.”

Pleione patted his shoulder. “I have a good feeling about it. Welcome to the family.”

“Thank you.”

They sat on for some time, looking out to sea, relaxed and easy in their companionship, the weight of their responsibilities shed for the moment.

* * * *

Megan sat in the growing dark of the vigil hut, gathering her strength for the coming initiation. Although it was her daughter who would undergo the test, Megan wondered if she would survive the night herself. She drank the tea Caitir handed her. The honey was so thick she was no longer able to taste the different herbs, but it opened her lungs a bit. Whether the weaver cut her cord tonight or not, she must finish this story. She took a long, ragged breath and plunged in again.

“After my first Beltane celebration at Avebury, the priestesses herded the first timers back onto the transport just after the formal ceremony ended, but the revelry continued until dawn. Most of them didn’t make it back until mid morning. It was a quiet day, with most people sleeping. The next morning, Thalana found me at breakfast.”

* * * *

“The Lady wants to see you.”

Megan looked at the full bowl of fruit and cooked grain sitting in front of her. “Can I eat first?”

“She said now.” Thalana handed Megan’s breakfast to another apprentice who just walked into the dining hut. “Come on.”

Swallowing her complaint instead of food, Megan followed Thalana, who climbed the hill with a heavy step. She yawned several times in a row.

“How was my cousin?” Megan asked in a casual voice.

The corners of Thalana’s mouth twitched. “I enjoyed all my partners.” They arrived at the gate, so Megan couldn’t pry any more details out of her. They walked in silent reverence until Megan’s gurgling stomach protested the imposed fast. Both burst into laughter, but once they reached the edge of the grove of yew trees, Thalana pulled a serious face and pointed. “She’s waiting.”

The Lady of Avalon sat on her stone bench, wrapped in a red shawl. Megan stifled her mirth, then walked up to the Lady and dipped a knee in respect.

“Sit. Tell me about the ceremony.” Instead of the bench, Megan settled cross-legged on the needle-covered ground and told the story of her first Beltane. The Lady asked a few questions then stood up. “It is as I thought. Come with me.” She walked to the small vigil hut and turned back to her. “Wait here until I call you.”

Megan stood outside the small stone structure, listening to the rustle of birds in the yews and the trickle of water from the springs. She wondered what would happen next, if she would be sent to another temple halfway across the world, or if she would be allowed to go home to Eden and learn to work with the giant crystal portal…and see Govannan again. The sun rose higher, burning off the chill in the air. After what seemed a long time, the oak door opened and the Lady stood in the threshold. “You may come in now.”

Curious, Megan took two steps into the dim hut and looked around, willing her eyes to adjust. The Lady touched her arm and led her to a long, low table that stretched across the middle of the room. “Sit.”

Feeling her way, Megan lowered herself onto a large pillow. She heard the Lady sit somewhere behind her. Finally, her eyes adapted. Across the table from her sat the oldest woman she ever saw. White hair hung in a long braid down her back and milky eyes looked out of a wrinkled face.

“Megan, daughter of Pleione, daughter of Cordelia.” The woman seemed to be speaking to herself, rolling the names around on her tongue as if to extract their deepest flavor. “You have come back to the home of your mothers.”

It seemed to be more of a proclamation than a question, so Megan sat quietly and waited.

The old woman tilted her head as if she were listening to something, then she spoke with a low, indistinct murmur. She seemed to listen again. “Too bad, too bad,” she said, shaking her head, her forehead wrinkling even more.

Megan looked over her shoulder at the Lady, who shook her head sharply and gestured for her to turn back around. The ache in her stomach was no longer hunger.

The old woman made a sound that seemed more hopeful. “A good choice.” She dug into her pocket and came out with something cupped in her palm. She focused on Megan, her eyes now inexplicably clear, her gaze sharp and steady. She stretched out a withered hand. Light flickered as the twisted fingers opened and the old woman dropped a slender crystal point into Megan’s hand.

Before Megan could examine this gift, the old woman said in a firm voice, “Yours is a special talent, but a difficult path. You will stay with us a year and a day, then we will release you to your fate. The Morgen has spoken.”

Megan’s gasp seemed too loud in the sudden quiet. This was the famous oracle. The old woman’s eyes clouded again. To Megan’s relief, she closed them and sagged back in her seat, pulling her shawl tight around herself. The Lady stepped up to Megan’s side and pulled her up, shepherding her out the door. Megan looked over her shoulder. “Thank you,” she said, but the Morgen did not respond.

Once outside, the Lady continued down the path until they reached the stone bench. She sat and soothed her skirts. Only then did she speak. “Now we know that you will be a student here for the next year. We may send you to other temples to assist in ceremony, as your guild has requested, but you will live and study with us. Thalana will move you in with the first year apprentices.”

Megan would miss her delightful cottage. At least at the Crystal Matrix Chamber, she had her own room…but that wasn’t what was bothering her. She gathered her courage like the strands of a fraying shawl; after all, this woman was her aunt. Before the Lady could dismiss her, Megan asked, “What did she mean about turning me over to my fate? Does she know what that is?”

The Lady shrugged. “Who can say? She sees so much, I don’t know if she remembers it all. Much of the time she is in the other worlds.”

Megan sat abruptly on the bench beside the Lady. She pushed her curls behind her ears then opened her palm to look at the crystal. “What is this? Don’t I even get to ask her?”

“I’m afraid not, dear. It is for you to discover the power of this stone.”

Megan turned it over in her hand. The crystal was clear and cleanly formed, coming to a perfect point. She held it up in a beam of sunlight that found its way through the yew branches. Small cracks inside the stone broke the light into rainbows.

“Put it on your altar. Meditate with it. The knowledge will come in the right time.”

Megan nodded and brushed away a tear. Another followed, and she rubbed her eyes, annoyed. The Lady put her arm around her shoulders, and this opened the dam. “I’m sorry,” she managed between sobs. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

“Too many changes in too short a time,” the Lady said. “Now you can settle down…at least for a time.”

Chapter Fourteen

Anne put down Cynthia’s manuscript. Could it be? She fished beneath her collar and pulled the silver chain holding the crystal over her head. The stone gleamed in her palm. She had grown accustomed to thinking of Cynthia’s story as just that, fantasy read at odd moments during the day and filling the lonely evenings of what was supposed to be her romantic interlude with Michael. Perhaps Cynthia’s note to Garth should be taken at face value. Maybe this wasn’t fiction at all, but a vision of history Cynthia received, the true story of the crystal, perhaps even of their own family.

She held the now familiar stone up to the lamp and let it dangle there. The light refracted off the cracks and spread rainbows on the opposite wall of the study. She come to think of it as the key to that underground temple near the heart of the Sphinx…one of six keys, actually. However, the crystal sent a pulse of energy into the Tor to restart White Spring and now it appeared in the far past—not in Egypt where Tahir said it came from, but in Avalon, passed from the mythological Morgen to a woman from the fabled land of Atlantis.

The ring of the phone made her jump. Laughing at herself, she followed the sound and found the cell phone inside her purse.

“Anne?” Michael’s voice sent a rush of warmth through her.

“Oh, good. I have so much to talk to you about.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m in Glastonbury, silly, in Cynthia’s house.”

“Look out the window.”

“Why?”

“Just look out the window.”

Anne pushed the blue curtains aside and peered out at the empty porch. “What?”

“Keep looking.”

Her eyes scanned the dark yard. Just as she was about to close the curtain, she glimpsed movement.

“What do you see?” His voice sounded through the phone and from the front yard at the same time.

“Michael!” Anne threw the phone onto the desk and ran outside into his arms. His kiss burned away the damp chill of the English spring and the lonely nights. Entwined, they somehow made it up the steps of the porch and through the front door. Anne pushed the door shut behind her and leaned against it, savoring the kisses Michael deposited down her neck. Buttons flew and she started to protest, but his mouth continued down the front of her body, pausing to worship each breast. He unzipped her jeans and pulled them off, giving a grunt of satisfaction when he found nothing beneath. He went down on his knees, finding her tender pearl with his tongue. She draped one leg over his shoulder and gave herself over to the sensations. She climaxed almost immediately, grabbing the door handle for support.

Michael picked her up and carried her up the stairs, where he deposited her on the bed. She lay, languid, watching his smooth skin emerge as he pulled off his clothes, his phallus spring loose from his briefs. He pulled her closer and she melted around him. They spent the rest of the night exploring variations on this theme.

In the morning, they took a shower together. Soaping up led to more lovemaking. Afterwards they slept again, finally waking in the late morning, content.

Anne traced Michael’s nose and brow with her forefinger. “You didn’t call.”

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“You did. It’s good to have you back.” She lifted her head and looked at him. “I do have you back, don’t I? Is everything in New York settled?”

“We still need to ship Robert’s library. I have some papers to sign.” He rubbed his forehead.

“How are you feeling?”

Michael’s eyes darkened. “I still expect to be able to call him. It’s not like Cagliostro has given me any time to grieve.”

“Now you’ll have some time with me.”

“I promised his wife I’d drop by to talk and pick up the ceremonial tools he left me. I told her it would have to wait a couple of weeks because of business.”

“I imagine she’ll appreciate the time. Grandmother Elizabeth won’t allow Thomas’s room to be touched yet.”

“Then there’s the lodge. Guy wants to show me the ropes, but the first priority is getting ahead of Cagliostro. ”

Anne raised herself on her elbow. “You haven’t answered my first question.”

He sighed. “I’m leaving for Germany tomorrow morning.”

She sat up. “I’m coming with you.”

He drew her back down. “I’d love to have you, but I’m on Cagliostro’s trail. I don’t want him anywhere near you.”

“Where is he now?”

Michael blushed. “Actually, he’s in England. At his country house.”

“So,” Anne smiled in triumph, “Germany is safer than here.”

Michael’s eyes narrowed. “Arnold hasn’t seen hide or hair of Cagliostro since he came back from the Caribbean. Come with me.”

She turned over and spooned against him. “Good.”

“What about White Spring?”

“We fixed it.” She told him about the impromptu ceremony.

“You’re getting to be quite the adept.”

“Hardly, those stones seem to have a mind of their own.” She looked at their two crystal keys lying on the bed table.

“Which is why we need to keep Cagliostro from getting any more of the Atlantean crystals. Imagine what stones that size could do.”