Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture (24 page)

“No, don’t aim at my sword.” Arik took the offensive. “Either block it or aim at me. I’m a much bigger target.”

The immediate barrage ended. “But don’t I want to stop your sword?” Steven asked, struggling for breath. He stood bent over, the sword across his thighs.

“There are two ways to fight. Both are correct and depend on your style. You can drive the initiative and keep your opponent on the defensive, or you can wait for an opportunity for a sound counterattack, fight defensively. Most good swordsmen strive to be skilled at both. In field fighting the strategy is offense. The objective is to hit your opponent fast and hard—disable or kill him—then move on to the next.” Arik tapped his shoulder. “Now try again.”

“That isn’t much different than how we fight today.” Arik caught what one of the onlookers said. Hundreds of years later and combat hadn’t changed. The weapons may change but the intent is the same.

“Relax your shoulders. They’re too tight.” Arik continued the sparring. “Tension is your enemy. Staying flexible will allow you to keep a wide stance and that is where your strength is. Don’t keep your feet parallel. Put one back and turn it out.”

His student made the quick adjustment.

“Yes, that’s right. Can you feel the difference?” Arik pushed forward but Steven didn’t budge. “Good. I can’t push you off balance.”

“Hold,” the major shouted.

Arik held up his sword. Steven was out of breath. Sweat covered his face. His shirt stuck to him as if he’d been out in a rainstorm. His sword arm appeared to have long gone limp but he had kept going.

Arik had continued the barrage to see how long he would stand. He didn’t stop. Quite impressive. Exhausted, the soldier was clumsy and let his sword brush across his forearm, slicing it open. Steven ripped off his shirt.

Arik grabbed it from him and wrapped the arm tightly. “It appears worse than it is,” he said. “Leave the cloth and have the major see to it.” Arik didn’t need to ask the man about the battles he’d been through. Arik had his share of battle wounds but he was humbled by the scars on Steven’s chest and back.

“I didn’t feel the cut.” Steven looked astonished.

“When the edge is sharp you don’t feel it.” Arik sheathed his sword.

“These aren’t practice blades,” another soldier said. “He could’ve killed you,” he said to Arik.

“It was my job to make certain that didn’t happen.” Arik turned to the others. “Tell me, when you were in service and practiced with your weapons, did you practice with real ones?”

“Well, yes we did,” all the men responded.

“And we marched with real packs, too,” called out another. The men rumbled in agreement.

“Of course. You must learn to respect your weapon. Work with it until it becomes part of you, an extension of your arm, before it will do what you want. In that way a sword is no different than any other weapon.” Arik saw the respect in each man’s eyes.

“Mr. Hughes and I will teach you to be swordsmen once your bodies are ready. The principles of the sword require you to be strong, flexible and quick. The blade is large and heavy. You must command it. It can never command you. That’s enough for today.”

The men rushed around Steven.

“Jeez, he wasn’t even breathing heavy. And after fighting with Mr. Hughes. Are you alright?” Frank asked.

“I’m fine,” Steven panted. “The movies have it all wrong. No one can fight for any length of time with a broadsword.”

“It seems Lord Arik and Mr. Hughes can.”

Steven gathered his things and got into place. His exhaustion was evident but so was the satisfaction anyone could see on his face.

“Everyone to the garrison,” the major commanded.

Steven learned quickly. Arik hoped the others would, too. There wasn’t any time to lose. Enthusiasm ran through the men. That was encouraging. Training would be tiring and difficult but these were strong men. They would do well.

Arik greeted the men as they entered the garrison. The major was already taking care of Steven’s injury.

“Stand easy, men,” Arik instructed. George closed the door behind him.

“You all appear tired. Has the major been working you hard?”

A rumble ran through the crowed. “Nothing we can’t handle,” Brian, one of the engineers, shouted. The others agreed. “We’re looking forward to our turn with the blade,” he added.

Arik smiled. “It seems every boy wants to play the knight. I remember playing knight, with my brothers and sister.”

“Defending the manor?” Frank asked. A soft laugh filled the room.

“Yes, defending the manor. The manor has a long history. Eleven centuries, to be more precise. Much has happened during that time.” He searched the men’s faces. He held their interest. “People were born. Couples were wed. Wars were fought. People died. It’s a long and illustrious history. I’m pleased you’re proud to be a part of it.” The men stood straighter.

“In the seventeenth century, the land was in conflict and our manor survived but only through the hard work and efforts of their men at arms.” Arik stepped to the hearth then turned to the men. “There are many hidden secrets in old manors and castles. Fayne Manor has its own, as well. This is between each of you and me. No one else. Do I have you word? Your honor?”

The men looked at each other.

“Sir, on my honor whatever you have to say or show me is between you and me,” the major said, standing at attention.

“Thank you, Major.” One by one each man in the room made the same pledge.

Arik faced the hearth. He had already tripped the mechanism and left the large stone ajar. Now he pushed it open, exposing the tunnel.

A gasp rolled through the men along with various curses.

“There is something I’d like to show you. Who will come with me?” The men gathered around him. Within minutes, every man stood with him. He led them into the tunnel deep into the ground. The torches flared to life as they passed. He never doubted George when he said these men were loyal and trustworthy. He was surprised when George suggested bringing them to the sanctuary. But he was right. He needed to demonstrate his loyalty and trust to them.

“This is like a theme park,” muttered one of the men. The others around him shook their heads. Finally, they arrived in a large cavern. The torches ignited around the room.

“How’d he do that?”

“It must be by remote control or by sensors when you enter the area,” assured another. “Pretty cool.”

Arik and George made certain there were no stragglers. “Fayne Manor was successful. Its very success made it a target. Some men wanted to ruin it and others wanted to own it. But each time the master of the manor rallied his men. He defended and protected all who lived here. His men and their kinfolk were as important to him as his own family. They worked, drank, played games and fought side by side. All a man had to do is see the talisman to come to the aid of his comrades.”

“A talisman?” A soft buzzed echoed in the cavern.

“Yes, a trinket that identified the men of Fayne Manor,” Arik said.

“Ah, like the patch on our uniform. That would be nice. Something to hold on to,” someone said quietly.

Arik scanned the men. These were men who wanted to belong to something bigger than themselves. That was something he could give them. “Follow me.”

He took them into the tunnel. He stood in front of the weaponry gate, silently worked the lock then opened the door. The men entered and stood at the edge of the darkness and waited. One torch, lit against the wall, revealed a chest. Arik knelt by the chest and pulled out a handful of medallions. “This is the Fayne talisman. Each man believed it protected him.” He didn’t tell them that it was a magical druid symbol. There was plenty of time for that later.

Jaxon investigated the disk. “Did the men carry it?”

“When they joined the ranks, each man received the disk. Before they went into their first battle the symbol was marked on their arm.” Arik raised the edge of his sleeve to reveal his Fayne mark.

“There is one more thing.” He stepped to the far end of the long table. The torches on that side of the room flared into life. In front of him was the real Sword of Rapture. It glistened in the torchlight and held each man’s attention.

“This is the symbol and the strength of Fayne Manor. No one has seen the true sword for hundreds of years. Let it be a beacon for you as it was for the men who preceded you.

“Last night I fought to save the mill next to loyal and courageous men. Those are ideals I treasure highly. They are ideals that not all men have. It’s what separates you from others.” He let that idea stew for a few seconds. This is between you and me,” he said, his voice deep and resonant. “No other. I pledge I will protect and defend you and your families to the best of my ability. So let it be.”

The major was the first to come forward. “I swear I will protect and defend you and your family to the best of my ability. So let it be.”

Arik extended his hand to the major. “So let it be.” The major stared at Arik’s hand and clasped it soundly then received one of the disks. The man took off the chain he wore around his neck. He added his new talisman then put the chain back on.

George was next then one by one each man came forward and pledged themselves to Lord Arik and received the Fayne talisman.

“I am proud to be one of you. Each of you has proven your valor and strength to your country. I am honored you are now of Fayne Manor.” He stood in the midst of George and his soldiers, their eyes shining with pride and brotherhood.

George led the men back through the tunnel and into the garrison.

Arik followed behind the men, closing and securing the sanctuary. He wasn’t surprised by their reaction but he was proud that to a man they all stood with him.

“Thank you, Major, for stepping forward,” Arik said.

“Two nights ago I saw how you took care of the men. You made certain everyone was accounted for, consoled the injured, lighten their spirits and, at your own risk, saved Bill. You are a principled, fair leader who cares about his men. How could I not serve you?”

“Thank you,” he said as they stood in front of the gatehouse.

“About the sword demonstration, what do you think of Steven?” the major asked.

“I watched his eyes as we fought. He was thinking and learning with each step. He used my own tactics against me. He’s a good student and learns fast. Once he increases his stamina he’ll be an excellent swordsman. Yes, mark him for one of the sword master positions. And make certain you include deep breathing exercises, push-ups, sit-ups and plenty of stretching in tomorrow’s training. They need to work on their shoulders, back and arm muscles to sustain a sword fight.”

“The restoration of the village should help with the body building. Fixing those stone houses will have the men lifting blocks all day.” The Major started off for the village.

The lights of several cars parked at odd angles in the manor drive flashed through the library windows at syncopated intervals, giving the room a harsh blue glow. “This way, sir.” Charles showed their guest into the library.

“Dr. Tyler, Mr. Hughes, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Bardsley.” He gave an envelope to George. “I spoke with the fire warden about the incident at your mill. The evidence was all there. It took less than a week to come to a conclusion. He has confirmed it was arson. There is the final report.” Arik joined Rebeka.

George read through the documents. “Yes, he sent a copy to my office.”

Arik and George had agreed with the fire warden’s findings. It wasn’t a huge leap of faith. The accelerant was proof enough.

“Dr. Tyler.” Rebeka gave the man her attention. “Your student…” He read through his small spiral notebook. “Yes, Marle. She gave us a description of the two who attacked your man.” He thumbed through his pad. “Bill. We have them in custody. Caught them in a minor traffic accident. The young lady is quite perceptive. She gave us a good description of the men and the tattoo. It supports Bill’s statement. She’ll have to identify them but that is only a formality.”

“Marle? ”Arik asked as he stepped forward.

“Yes, when we questioned the students, she and her friend…” more rummaging through his notebook, “…John, said they had been at the mill. It was ‘their place,’ she said. Anyway, when they heard people coming they rushed into the woods then Bill arrived. A few minutes later the suspects pulled Bill out of the building. The men rolled up their sleeves. That’s when Marle and John smelled gasoline and saw the tats on one of them. She called it a heta. They took off through the woods, ran back here and woke everyone.”

So that’s how Marle and John knew about the fire. Arik had assumed they saw the fire or smelled the smoke as he had and roused the men.

“Heta? Are you sure that’s what she said?” Arik asked.

“She drew it for me.” Bardsley showed Arik and Rebeka his pad. “Bill confirmed this is what he saw.”

“Thank you, Chief Inspector. We’re glad this is closed,” Rebeka said.

“I wouldn’t call this closed just yet. Why did they torch the mill? These men do things for money. I want to know who is behind this and what else they plan. We can assign some guards—”

“That won’t be necessary,” George said. “We have our own men on it. But let’s keep communications open. As legal representative for Dr. Tyler you can forward everything to me. I’d like to be at the interrogation.”

“I’ll contact your office as soon as those arrangements have been made. Well, that’s all for now. Dr. Tyler, Mr. Hughes. I’ll find my own way out.”

They watched the blue lights fade as the cars left the drive.

“Heta is a Latin
H
. It must be Bran’s mark,” Rebeka said as Arik looked out the window.

“It’s similar. The mill is warded. Bran or his men couldn’t get past them.”

“Are you certain?” Rebeka asked.

“Yes.” The thought that there was another threat was…uncomfortable but he was certain it came from this century, not his.

“Then who’s behind setting the fire and why?”

“We should be back by midafternoon,” Rebeka told Arik and George as she got into the waiting car with Cora. “The archivist at the Overbury Estate found a document containing a reference to Mannis. It’s not the proclamation but it’s worth reviewing. The photo she sent had runes in the margins that no one could decipher.”

Arik hoped she was right. He had been helping her and her senior students search through the old documents. It was a tedious process. Written in a variety of languages, each document had to be scrutinized for any reference that might lead them to information. They had several dead ends but this one appeared promising. They had only fifteen days until the Trust’s deadline. While he helped Rebeka, George and Cora were digging into the financial questions the Trust raised.

“I know the connection between Alfred and Mannis was hidden but it appears to be nonexistent.” She gave him a worried glance.

“They’re well hidden but they exist. We found Doward’s account. There’ll be others. We’ll find it.” He stepped away from the car. She gave him a watery smile and pulled away.

“Are you as certain as you sound?” George asked as they started for the garden house to take an inventory of the weapons. Arik brought his attention back to George.

“I’ll stay positive until we’ve exhaust all our options.” He was baffled that everything from 1570 to 1670 was missing. Either the documents were truly lost or they contained information that someone wanted hidden. Deep in his bones he knew they still existed. With luck, Rebeka would have some success. He and George entered the garden house and made their way to the weapons room to determine which weapons to use for demonstrating the smithy’s work.

“What about these?” Arik focused on the swords.

“I’ve contacted my father’s former colleague.” George cataloged the swords and noted what repairs needed to be made. “He asked for an inventory of what needed to be restored.” He held up the list. “Other than their dulled edges and points, the quality of these weapons is excellent. Your idea of having the guests watch the repairs is a good one.”

Someone knocked on the door frame. “Excuse me.”

Arik put down the sword. “Yes?” He spun around. Joan stood inside the doorway.

“Is Dr. Tyler here?” Joan surveyed the room.

“She’s gone to Overbury. Is it something urgent?” Joan was one of the students going through the library documents searching for the proclamation.

“I found this parchment in one of the codices. It doesn’t belong with the information on herbal remedies I’m reviewing.”

“Are you certain?” Arik asked. She gave him the document.

“It’s part of a scroll and appears out of place—much older. If you read the text you’ll see it’s written by several people and there’s a variety of languages. I’m pretty good with many of the Celtic dialects but I can only read a phrase or two of these.”

The touch of the document set the hairs on the back of Arik’s neck on end. The document was papyrus and well preserved. “May I keep this, Joan? As soon as I am finished here I can give this my full attention.”

“Sure. I’ll check back with you later. Thanks.” Arik handed the text to George and waited until Joan left the room.

“It seems Joan has found one of the druid texts.” George scanned the document.

“I’m surprised she could read past the enchantment. She’s right about it being written by several different people. See, each author has their sigil at the end of their line.” He pointed to one of the symbols. Arik rolled it up with care. “I’ll see to this after we’ve finished here.”

Three hours later George got into his motorcar and rolled down the window. “Let me know what that’s all about.” He nodded toward the rolled-up document. “You’re pocket’s ringing.” George nodded to Arik’s shirt.

Arik pulled his cell phone and read the display.

“I’ll get the inventory out. The sooner we begin the repairs, the better,” George said and drove out the gate.

“Rebeka.”

“Cora and I are on our way back. There were runes in the margin of one of their documents. I had to chant to read it. The document was from Chippenham and mentions Mannis assisting Alfred the Great. We reviewed the entire document but it only had the one reference. We’re going to go out to dinner. I’ll see you later.” It wasn’t enough. Her voice was filled with disappointment. Perhaps the evening out with Cora would boost her spirits.

“I’ve a call coming in from Louise. I’m sure it’s to remind us the Trust expects the document in twenty days. See you later.” She ended the call. He was as disappointed as she sounded. However, if they found this reference there was bound to be more.

Arik went to the tower. Like the writing on his walls, the words in the document were locked away from prying eyes. He muttered the words to release the enchantment. A few of the symbols unlocked. The shock of his inability to unchain the others sobered him. “Faith.” He should’ve known when he touched the document and sensed the presence of the former Grand Masters that the protection was deep.

He closed his eyes and quieted his mind as he took a deep breath. Calmly he exhaled and visualized all his turbulent and worried thoughts forced out of his mind when he exhaled. Two more breaths and he was ready. His mind free and the tension gone, he went deeper until he found that quiet place. At ease, he visualized his intent and whispered the chant that would summon the golden key. It resisted him.

This protection was deeper still. Although he knew it was possible, he had never come across a document with protection this intense. He concentrated harder and continued his chant.

His eyelids fluttered and a plain brass key took form suspended in front of him. The first part done, he moved on to the next chant. The key turned slowly at first, in time with the cadence of his chant. Faster and faster he chanted until the key was a spinning golden oval of light. He spoke the final verse and the whirling orb brightened and burst into a million pieces. He opened his eyes and watched as sparks of light dance across the document, revealing the text as it passed along. Another deep breath followed by a silent thank-you. He took his pen and was ready to begin.

The text held crucial information about the portal and its workings. The various sigils adorning the margins of the text were a testament to the number of ancient Grand Masters who provided their opinions and enhancements to the portal’s evolution over the past thousand years. Some spoke of warding the area and others anchored the portal to the great standing stones. There was mention of the scrying mirror’s magick.

Arik continued on for several more hours. Even though he unlocked the document, he researched and cross-referenced his translation using the books in his library. The day had turned cool and overcast. The threat of a heavy rainstorm hung in the air. The tower room was dark. The lamp on the table lit a small section of it. The rest of the room glowed from the light in the hearth. Arik was two-thirds down the page. He read over his notes and froze.

He struck out the last three lines and translated them again. But by the time he reached the second group of symbols he knew he would get the same answer—there was no other meaning.

No, he wouldn’t accept the answer. For the past five days between working with the men on the mill, village repairs and with Rebeka searching for the proclamation, Arik worked on the druid document. He found a few differences in the translation but they all ended the same.

Finally, he threw down the pen and rose from the table. With one hand on his hip and the other rubbing the back of his neck, he paced the small room like a caged animal. He reread the translation, searching for any little nuance that would change the meaning.

On one hand the document gave the key for using the scrying mirror to return while on the other hand, she could never return home. And it was his fault. He stood at the wall for hours and traced the runes he put there so many centuries ago. He searched for a more agreeable translation but deep in his heart he knew he wouldn’t find one. At sunrise he was still at his table. His hand, resting on the pad with his notes, fisted and crumpled the paper into a ball. He stood and threw it into the hearth. It flared as the paper went up in smoke along with all his dreams.

He marched to the pells holding the heaviest practice sword he could find. The storm that was building in the sky couldn’t compete with the tempest that raged inside him. By the time he got to the practice field with its wooden posts, the light mist had turned into a steady drizzle.

He took hold of the weapon’s grip and circled around the first post, tapping it with the flat of his blade. He never took his eyes off the round pumpkin someone had impaled on the top of the post. The strength of his taps increased as if he were evaluating his opponent, until he stood in front of the post and let loose a barrage of strikes that cut into the hard wood.

The rain came down in sheets but he didn’t stop. The sound of his sword against the wood filled the pell and echoed in his ears until all he heard were his grunts and splintering wood. He punished the post, first slicing off the bark then moving on to downward and upward strokes, whittling it away until it was a mere stump.

The pumpkin, made into mash at his onset, littered the area. Splinters of wood were everywhere. He stood soaked and panting, holding his sword ready to attack the next post.

“There are easier ways to make toothpicks,” Rebeka said.

He washed the expression off his face before he turned to face her. “You’re drenched.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes and came out of his daze. “How long have you been standing there?” He had attacked the wooden post as if he were a berserker. Now his arms were limp and his energy spent but it didn’t change anything.

She had her shawl over her head but she was as wet as he was.

“Long enough. I came to see what was happening. It sounded as though there was an army out here. I didn’t expect to see you taking on the pells by yourself.”

The tension in his shoulders eased. What to tell her? He put his arm around her and they started back toward the manor. He needed a plan. His misery hung around his neck like an ox’s yoke. He’d lose them all—Logan, Skylar, Aubrey. Raw grief tore at him as he realized he’d never see them again.