Knight of Runes (5 page)

“Here we are. This adventure is short, only thirty minutes. Please be back to the bus on time for the return trip to Fayne Manor. We cannot wait for anyone.”

Rebeka was the last to leave the bus. “Thank you for the information about the henge. You are very knowledgeable about the stones. It was a pleasure hearing about them.” Rebeka handed Agnes a generous tip.

“Thank you, miss.” Agnes looked at the five pounds in her hand. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Rebeka Tyler.” She saw Agnes’ surprise and watched it bloom in her smile.

Agnes called after Rebeka as she walked away. “Please don’t wander too far, Ms. Tyler. The bus leaves promptly in thirty minutes.”

Rebeka waved her acknowledgement. She wanted a map of the henge and headed for the visitor’s center which doubled as a gift shop. The shop was much like any other with small gifts, postcards and books. She moved from one counter to the next. Nothing held her attention. She raked her hands through her hair, hooking it behind her ear. Jittery and tense, her impatience surprised her.
Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea.
She was getting more restless. She didn’t want to be sociable and decided to take a recorded tour. People would be less likely to talk to her with the headset on. She chose to tour The Cove with its male and female stones at the center of the henge. Recorder in hand, she walked over to the site and put on the headset.

The background music was mystical but it set the mood. Following the prescribed course around the stones, she listened to the narrator tell the local mythology and how they thought the stones were erected.

“At the north henge the major focus is on the two surviving stones that make up The Cove, the ceremonial area at the heart of the henge. Like all stones at Avebury the stones alternate between male (tall and thin) and female (wide and squat). It is…”

She entered the inner north henge, her mind quieted, and walked toward The Cove as the narrator spoke of a possible Druid influence. The background music morphed to a soothing chant reminiscent of the playful chants she and her father made up on their hikes. It was surprisingly similar with only minor variations. She softly chanted along.

Calmness engulfed her. The narration muted to a mere murmur, the chant clear and distinct. She took a deep breath, and felt gears shifting as they aligned and brought her in harmony with everything around her. With a leisurely pace, she approached the two center stones and picked up the chant, enjoying the strong drum beat in the background. An insistent buzzing broke her concentration. Startled by the vibrations, she grabbed at her skirt pocket. It must be her phone. She fumbled with her pocket unable to open the zipper. The vibrations grew more insistent as the chanting became more intense and the drum beat louder, carrying her heartbeat along with it. Bewildered, she pulled the headset off and dropped it to the ground. But the chanting didn’t stop. It continued to get louder and faster. Her heartbeat matching the rhythm. She staggered and planted her walking staff solidly on the ground for support. Trying to keep her balance she took a steadying step forward directly between the male and female stones.

The air chilled and the sky turned an array of colors. Every muscle in her body tensed. Then everything around her started to spin, slowly at first but gathering momentum. She struggled to keep in the moment, her head still pounding with the beat of the chant. Her breath came in short spurts and a sense of panic began to rise. She wanted to escape but she was transfixed to the spot. Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, she replanted her staff in the ground next to her. The vibration abruptly stopped and the chanting softened. She fought to maintain control and was rewarded as the burgeoning panic subsided. For a moment, she looked out as if through a hazy filter and heard Agnes’ voice. It sounded distorted and slow.

“All right, everyone, those of you who are returning to the Manor, please go directly to the car park.” Agnes looked right at her with a blank stare.

She doesn’t see me.
Rebeka’s pulse beat erratically.

“Has anyone seen Ms. Tyler, the woman with the walking stick? I thought I saw her standing by The Cove.”

Off balance with her right foot still outside the stones, Rebeka drew her leg in to steady herself. Everything turned dark and then she saw nothing.

Rebeka stood in the center of the swirling current as it spun violently around her.
No it can’t be. How did I get here and how do I get out?
The whispered thoughts echoed in her head. Gravity seemed to be pulling her in farther, yet she was rooted to one spot. Her breathing was short and shallow. The sound of her quickening heartbeat roared in her ears. Panicking wouldn’t help. Gripping her staff, she struggled to retain control. She focused all her energy and concentrated. Her mind cleared, her heartbeat slowed and her breathing steadied.

The current was a cloudlike vapor of soft colors filled with an energy that crackled with power. Nothing made sense. Glimpses of pictures passed in front of her, pulsing and pulling before distorting into oblivion. Chaos churned all around her, yet at its center, she remained untouched. She held her staff tightly, the faint glow of the runes fading as the echoing chant receded. On the edges of her mind, urgency propelled her forward. She tried to move her feet, and took a tentative step.

The ground slipped away and she was falling, tumbling in the dark. There was no time to think, only to react. She tried to catch something to stop the free fall but her arms windmilled in open air. There was nothing to grab. With great effort, she finally pulled her arms and legs into a fetal position, protecting herself as best she could. She fell faster.

She bumped her way down as the darkness lifted. Pain radiated through her at every smack. Flashes of trees and rocks whizzed by as she careened down the side of a mountain. One last bump sent her airborne. She dropped, unceremoniously onto solid ground.

Dazed and puzzled, she lay there, unmoving, slowly catching her breath. When she finally opened her eyes, above her she saw a canopy of trees with dappled sunlight filtering through. At least she was out of the swirl and on firm ground. The spinning feeling began to subside. Now all she needed was for her mind to catch up.

With caution, Rebeka stretched every part of her body, checking for injuries. No broken bones, that was a relief, but the bruising would be extensive. The only injury that looked serious was her thigh. It bled from a deep gash.
I should have worn pants to better protect my legs. Right, I should’ve planned for this!

“What the hell happened?” Her voice sounded croaky and dry.
This doesn’t make any sense.
Her face tingled. She knew it would swell. She sat up and scanned the trail in both directions and found it deserted and overgrown. The steep drop of the mountain and the skid marks she made when she barreled through the trees amazed her.
I’m lucky I didn’t crash into a tree. How could I have fallen? Avebury is in the middle of a field. Where did this mountain come from?

Disoriented and unable to reconcile the facts, she thought perhaps this trip to Avebury wasn’t a good idea. She’d imagined spending her evening curled up with a nice cup of tea and one of the family tomes, not picking sticks from her hair and getting covered with scrapes and bruises in the middle of nowhere. She searched for some overlooked clue but couldn’t find a reasonable answer. There was no logical explanation.

Can’t wait around here looking helpless. What to do first?
Her watch gone, she checked the position of the sun against the horizon.
Another hour or so of light. Not much time.
Her clothes were a mess. The skirt, once midcalf, was now mostly a mini. The sleeves of her jacket were torn off.

Limping, she examined the road for any signs of human activity. She didn’t see any tire marks and there wasn’t any litter. It all reaffirmed her original thought. The trail appeared untraveled. She hunted around for her pouch which tore away from her in the fall and found it snagged on a rock outcrop. It appeared to be intact. Her walking staff was close by. At least she found her things, but it was small comfort.

Her throbbing thigh reminded her it needed attention. She took a better look at it. It didn’t look good. It needed stitches. She searched for the water bottle in her pouch. What little water was left she used to clean the wound. Taking the silk scarf which had somehow stayed tied around her neck, she gently squeezed the gash together and wrapped it tightly.
This will have to do until I get back to the Manor.
Again, she surveyed the mountain, this time looking for a way back up.
Looks steep over here, there’s no clear path up to the top.
A seasoned rock climber, she knew better than to try to climb alone, in her current condition, and without proper gear.

Only option is to follow the trail and look for an easier way up.
The trail followed the contour of the mountain, around a bend up ahead and snaked out of sight.

Unzipping her pocket, she took out her phone to start the GPS app and see where she was. No signal. She stowed it in her pouch. She fished the amulet out of her pocket and tucked it away in a zippered section inside the bag, as well. She didn’t want to lose it.

After a quick inventory of her pouch, an almost useless exercise since she knew what was and wasn’t in it, she was ready to move on. Picking a direction, she limped down the trail, leaning heavily on her walking staff. She needed to find water.

She caught the sweet scent of the wet earth and heard the splashing of the small brook before she saw it not too far down the trail. The brook looked crystal clear, unpolluted like a deep back-country stream, but she knew better than to take a chance drinking it. The last thing she needed now was to get sick from bacteria. Reaching into her pouch, she took out her water bottle. After filling it, she dropped in a purification tablet. Good thing she came prepared. Who knew she would need to pack survival gear for a trip to Avebury.

Carefully she examined the scrapes on her arms and legs, flinching at each touch. She washed each one and patted them dry with a piece of cloth torn from what was left of her skirt. Using the small mirror she carried to fix her lipstick, she looked at her face. The bruise on her right cheek was the size of a medium egg. Cupping her hand, she sluiced handfuls of water over her cheek, hoping to stop the swelling. She soaked the torn piece of cloth in the icy stream and used it as a compress on her cheek. She left her thigh alone. There wasn’t much more she could do.

She rummaged through her pouch again, this time for aspirin. The small bottle was under her jogging suit that she shoved into the leather bag when she left the Savoy. Estimating that the requisite thirty minutes had passed for the purification tablets to work, she washed down two gel caps with a quick drink from the water bottle.

Finished with the field dressing she took out her only granola bar. The last thing she wanted to do was eat. Her jaw felt swollen and the thought of crunching was painful but she needed to eat to keep up her energy. She much preferred Helen’s scones and clotted cream. She pushed the idea from her mind, assuring herself she would ask Helen if there were any left from tea when she returned to the Manor. Slowly she went down the trail looking for any signs of people. There were plenty of traces of animals especially around the stream. But there was no indication of people, and no paths going up the mountain. Her eyes darted around at the slightest sound, hoping to make some sense of it all. She was so unprepared for this.

She limped slowly down the trail, shivering more from uncertainty than from any chill. She watched the sky turn crimson. She knew she was in trouble. It was getting late and she was running out of options. She’d been on many survival hikes and knew what to do. Driven by the need to get to the top of the mountain which was beginning to look more like Mount Everest, she pressed on. Seeing a bend in the trail up ahead she convinced herself help, a trail to the top or better yet the Manor, was just on the other side.
Come on, one foot in front of the other.

The aspirin began to kick in and her pain was down to a dull ache but she was tiring faster than normal. Her legs got the brunt of her injuries. She needed time to rest or they would give out altogether. With a slow deliberate pace, she limped on, convincing herself that help was just around the bend.

She approached the bend, her heart pounding with anticipation. Though she was tired and aching, she straightened up and quickened her step. This ordeal would soon be over. In high spirits, she turned the bend and stopped. All she saw was more of the same, the same trail, the same trees, the same everything. Her heart sank.
Well, Wonder Woman, what now?

She reached for her phone and tried again.
Still no signal!
She tossed the useless phone back into her pouch, exasperated, grabbed the water bottle and took a long drink as she looked at the mountain again, searching for a way to the top. All she saw was steep rocky terrain with trees and bushes tightly compact. Oh, it was definitely climbable but with her injured leg, the steep angle, loose stone base and no equipment, it was too dangerous. She added
frustrated
to
tired
and
disappointed.

She made a mental list. On the negative side, she was badly bruised with pains in her legs, not to mention the large gash on her thigh. Dusk was quickly turning into evening. She carried no food, and had no idea how she got here, no idea where she was, and no idea how to get back. She couldn’t think of one positive thing. She looked in her pouch again. Her pouch could keep her going for a week if need be, only not on an unexpected overnight survival hike. She needed a flashlight. Without one, she’d have to stop for the night. Four letter words were not part of her usual vocabulary but it was the only word that came to mind as she threw the pouch to the ground.

Finding it a challenge to keep calm, she forced herself to concentrate, breathe deep and find an inner peace. After a few minutes, she let out a large sigh and acknowledged she would have to camp out for the night and begin the search for a trail up the mountain in the morning.
I’m a top wilderness survival trainer,
she told herself, mentally moving down her checklist.
Shelter, fire, food and water.

Looking for a suitable campsite was her priority. For the first time since she landed here, she got lucky. An overgrown footpath led to an abandoned campsite not too far off the trail with adequate shelter and a fire pit. Even better, it was a short distance from a food source—some wild berry bushes. She foraged for berries and some edible plants while she picked up wood for the fire. The fire was more for warmth and to keep animals away. There was nothing to cook. While she put the camp together, she wondered at the irony. For the last month she looked forward to today like a kid waiting for a birthday. Now she couldn’t wait for the day to end. Worn out, she pulled her jogging jacket out of her pouch, banked the fire, lay down next to it, plumped up her pouch to use as a pillow and went to sleep.

May, 1605

Lord Arik and his three men sat around a campfire making plans for the following day’s journey.

“M’lord, will we continue our patrol?”

Arik stared into the campfire. A foreboding chill swept over him. He didn’t answer right away. Something in the air had changed. He wasn’t certain what it was. He gave the feeling time to ripen then made his decision.

“No, we have been away from the Manor too long. We’ll start back at sunrise. We need to get back as soon as possible.”

He had to rein in his impulse to leave at once. He knew better than to travel at night. Besides, the day’s patrol took its toll. The horses needed rest. He looked at his men. They would follow him anywhere. Best they rest, as well. He would be driving them hard in the morning.