Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture (29 page)

“Our men would be on foot. It makes us maneuverable. We take our position across the road. A line of pike handlers, archers and crossbowmen,” Doward said.

“It’s a good plan, if you can get Bran onto either of the roads. Put archers in the trees that line the fighting ground. They can pick off the enemy and also alert us to Stuart’s arrival and Bran’s reinforcements,” Arik said. A more terrifying realization washed over him.

“You have that look on your face. What do you see that we didn’t?” Logan stood alongside his brother and stared at the map.

“It’s his boldness. He won’t care about death or injury to his men. There’s little loyalty there. They’re hired mercenaries. He wants to show his superiority. So if you were him where would you attack?” Arik leaned over the map and rested his palms on the table.

“If I wanted to humiliate you I would do it in front of your people and your family… Do you think he would attack in front of the manor?” Marcus asked.

“I think he would choose our own practice fields, which are close enough to the manor for everyone to see. And I also agree with you that it will be before Stuart arrives with any help. It’s three days until Beltane. I’m certain that’s the day he’s waiting for.” Arik rose.

“Will the wards hold?” Marcus asked.

“They won’t be able to ransack the manor for a while. If we don’t win the day,” he said to his captain, “will it matter?”

“We’ll have to win the day.” Logan slapped his hand on the map.

“Yes we will. I want to go to the tower room and study the field. Are you with me?” Arik started for the tunnel.

“Of course.” They followed behind.

Arik tripped the mechanism to move the stone back into place and they left the gatehouse.

“Wait, you’ll need these.” Logan offered Arik his ring and sword.

“Before you say anything, they’re yours. They always have been.” Logan stood there and waited.

Arik put them on. He pounded his brother’s back. “Thank you for keeping them for me.”

“Rider approaching. Open the gate,” the sentry called. The gate opened wide enough to let the horse and rider through. The man stopped in front of them, dismounted and saluted.

“Lord Arik.” The man’s face lit with excitement. “Welcome back, m’lord.”

“It is good to see you, Willem. Walk with us to the tower,” Arik said. “What news do you have for me?”

Present Day

Rebeka stood in front of the shattered mirror. Her heart hammered as she tried to make sense of what had happened. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. George was by her side, his hand on her shoulder.

“There’s an explanation. I’m certain,” he said.

She glanced at him but her mind was frozen. All she saw was the hardened features on Arik’s face. All she knew was he was gone.

“He’s left you a message.” Her breath burned in her throat. But she swallowed hard and brushed away the hot tear that ran down her cheek. She took the paper, read it and reread it. Her anger grew each time. His betrayal cut her deep. The fact that he believed he was protecting them didn’t count.

“He thinks the manor will fall on May first.” For a brief moment, sifting through the mirror’s debris, she toyed with putting the puzzle back to together but that was ridiculous. There were thousands of slivers of glass sprinkled on top of the pentagram.

George and Cora rummaged through the papers on the table. “There must be something here that explains why he left.”

“How dare he.” She fisted her hands, her cheeks burning in anger. “If the manor is in jeopardy it’s as much my fight—more my fight—than his. The inheritance is through me.” She stood at his desk. “What books and documents has he been using? He hasn’t just picked up and left. He thinks he’s protecting us.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell us the truth about traveling back? It’s not like him.” Cora peered at her brother for an answer. “There’s something more here.”

“I don’t know, but I’m certain that’s part of this puzzle, too.” Rebeka helped pick through the documents.

“I don’t see anything relevant here. It’s three days until Beltane. That’s when he says the manor will fall. And it’s happening in his time, not ours. We need to see the older journals.” They left the tower room and rushed into the library.

“He’s organized the papers. I left Arik reading through them this morning.” Each of them focused on a different stack and went through them looking for anything that would explain Arik’s actions.

Rebeka found the 1606 journal. She turned to the last pages and gasped when she read Logan’s entry. “You were right, George.” George and Cora read the entry over her shoulder.

“Logan wrote this the night before Beltane. That’s why Arik traveled back, to ensure your safety,” Cora said.

“There’s something we’re missing.” She rested her hand. “Why would he tell me we couldn’t go back when it’s clear that he could?”

“Yes, I know.” George’s voice was low.

Cora and Rebeka stared at him. “Don’t just stand there. What do you know?” Cora demanded.

Rebeka watched as George’s face crumbled. She knew that Arik had sworn him to secrecy. It wasn’t a good sign.

“George, what do you know?” Cora was insistent.

“Joan gave Arik a piece of parchment to translate.” He turned to Rebeka. “It was from a druid text and it was about the portal. Among other things, it included information about the consequences of using the portal.” He turned to the fireplace, his discomfort obvious.

“If Rebeka attempted the portal again she either would not survive or be lost between times forever. Arik had one more passage.” He dropped in the nearby chair, tired and spent. “The last thing he mentioned was he wouldn’t leave without you.” His voice was almost too low for her to hear. She read Logan’s entry again.

“Logan mentions my father’s books. I’ve avoided going through them.” She wrapped her arms around herself.

“Avoided them? Why?” Cora asked.

A wisp of calm quieted her pounding heart. Yes, her father’s books. “I always knew my father was ‘special,’ not like other dads. And that’s more than a child’s viewpoint. He was so much more than an eccentric scholar. But after he died, something—I can’t tell you what—stopped me every time I tried to touch his books. I couldn’t read them and I couldn’t toss them out. I needed to keep them close. After a while I locked them away in the steamer chest and took them with me wherever I lived. I believed my inability to go through his things had to do with his death. Now I’m not so sure.” She stared at Arik’s picture over the hearth. “This is a turning point, one that has to be handled carefully. There’s too much at stake.” Arik’s words echoed in her head. Yes, and that started with investigating what was in her father’s chest.

“Do you need any help?” Cora asked. She let out a breath. They had done a good job of protecting her and the manor. It was time for her to pay them back.

“No. This is something I need to do myself.”

She stood in her room, the old steamer trunk against the wall. It was just a chest filled with books and things. Why was she so apprehensive? She stood in front of it and ran her hand over the top. Building up her courage, she opened the hasp and pulled back the lid. Once again she was met with the aroma of sage and mint. She took his scarf and crushed it to her chest. “Help me, Dad. I can use it now.” She wrapped it around her neck.

She pulled out his books, mostly Celtic reference, and read through his notes. Portions of lectures and even some student assignments that had never been returned were in a bundle. She pulled out a box tied with string and opened it. Inside she found her school report cards and some of the small gifts she had given or made for him. She burst with excitement that he had kept them all.

She put the box aside and let out a deep breath that had a hard time getting around the knot in her throat.

The last item startled her. It was a manila envelope addressed to her in her father’s hand. Her finger ran across his bold, masculine writing. The familiar script comforted her. A piece of him was with her.

She opened the package and took out two journals. Nothing else.

Her breath caught when she opened the first worn brown journal. It was filled with Arik’s handwriting. The last entry was March 1606.

She was propped up in bed and began to read page after page of his attempts to find her.

Working with Logan, they had tried to open the portal at the standing stones. He even tried to contact the Ancients in the Otherworld.

Magick herbs were mixed, chants were recited and enchantments investigated—nothing worked. He developed an enchantment but he had ruled that out. It would provide only a temporary solution. Formula after formula he wrote and finessed but they all led to failure.

Her breath caught at the mention of Dark Magick. Her heart ached for him as she sensed the pain and longing in his writing. It soared when she read his excitement at finding that someone else, George, she supposed, was helping.

Hours later she closed the book, her heart warm. His last entry was made the day he arrived. He had never stopped. He had tried to move heaven and earth and he had.

She opened the second journal. This one was filled with runes. She flipped through the pages and found a note pressed between two sheets. It was written by her father.

“Rebeka, keep this book well hidden. It is for your eyes only. I remain, your father.”

She read the odd wording that was so unlike him. She couldn’t reconcile the urgent tone of his message. The runes that filled the pages of the book were unrecognizable to her, except for the one sigil that combined her name and Arik’s. It seemed to be sprinkled throughout the text.

She closed the book and rested her hand on its leather cover. Her father was telling her something, but what?

She decided to attack the problem the best way she knew how, like it was any other research project. The idea made her light-headed. Had her father known all along? Was he preparing her for today? She was certain of it. While she considered what to do next, her finger followed the outline of the rune embossed on the book’s cover. Over and over she traced the figure. The pattern was familiar.

Her eyes opened wide when she realized what it was—the tower.

She pulled out her cell phone and punched speed dial. “George, I need you and Cora in the tower room.”

She clicked off the phone. Taking her staff and the two journals, she climbed the stairs to the tower. She stood by the window while she waited for George and Cora.

It was a beautiful view. She wondered if she would ever see it again standing next to him. She took in a deep breath and watched the sun slip below the horizon.

Three days. She had three days to figure out a lifetime of secrets.

“Rebeka, we came as fast as we could,” Cora said as she and George rushed into the room.

“My father left information hidden in the runes. I need to unlock them. He pointed me here.” She held up his journal and placed it on the table. “You helped Arik with the runes using Arik’s sword and my staff. Now, I need your help with the ritual.”

“We’ll have to make a new pentagram. That one is corrupt with the mirror’s shards.” They cleared as much off the floor as they could. The new design would cover as much of the room as possible. “Here’s chalk and candles,” Cora said. George drew the form with Cora’s help.

Ready to begin, Rebeka stood in the center of the pentagram with her staff in hand and the Sword of Rapture at her feet.

“Hail, Guardians of the East. I summon the power of air,” Rebeka said.

“By the air that is in her breath, be with us now,” George and Cora responded. Cora lit a candle on the eastern point of the pentagram.

“Hail, Guardians of the South. I summon the power of fire,” Rebeka said.

“By the fire in her spirit, be with us now,” George and Cora responded. George lit the candle on the southern point of the pentagram.

“Hail, Guardians of the West. I summon the power of water,” Rebeka said.

“By the waters of her womb, be with us now.” Cora lit the western point on the design.

“Hail, Guardians of the North. I summon the power of the earth,” Rebeka said.

“By the earth that is her body, be with us now.” George lit the final point.

“As above, so below. As within, so without. Four lights in this place be, to open the meaning of the runes to me. So mote it be
.
” They waited and watched the tower walls long into the night. But they remained dark and cold. They chanted until the first rays of day lightened the sky.

“Why won’t they answer?” she said under her breath. “Two days, that’s all we have left,” she murmured.

“Give me the knowledge,” she demanded and tapped her staff on the tower floor. “Give me the strength.” She tapped the floor again. “Give me the knowledge.” Her voice stronger, her demand more urgent. Another tap.

“Give me the strength.” She repeated the phrases over and over, punctuating each with a loud tap of her staff. “Give me knowledge… Give me strength.”

She wouldn’t take no for an answer. She demanded the Great Mother to respond. And she wouldn’t give up. Arik never had. She kept making her demand well into the late afternoon.

A spark to the right of her line of vision caught her attention. With renewed strength she continued. The sparks grew brighter. More and more runes pulsated in time with her tapping.

She didn’t see a pattern. She quickened the cadence and the flashes on the wall kept pace. Quicker and quicker she made her plea.

“Give me the knowledge, give me the strength, give me the knowledge, give me the strength.” She was silent but the beat of her staff echoed through the room.

Faster and faster she pounded her staff on the floor. Faster and faster the flashes responded until the sound of her staff and the pulses of light were steady.

In the midst of the frenzy she raised her hands high. “Show me the way.” She shouted her demand and stabbed her staff into the center of the pentagram.

Light and sound stopped.

One by one select phrases on the wall sent streams of light to her staff and the Sword of Rapture, illuminating select runes.

One by one the pulsing runes on the wall faded until they were all extinguished.

Rebeka lowered her arms. Her staff and the sword were surrounded by an aura.

She approached the walls. Several runes were burnished into them. Their meaning was clear. “Thank you, Great Mother, for the knowledge…and the strength to use it.”

It was Arik’s writing, for certain, but with another interpretation. And here he believed the writing was to find her. He should’ve examined it from all angles. She smiled at the idea. “Thank you, my love,” she murmured.

“It’s the prophecy,” Cora said, staring at a section of the wall.

“Knowledge destroyed is Knowledge that never existed. But when the purity of Knowledge is combined with the heart of Strength none can tear it apart.”

“It must be the key to unlock your father’s writing,” George said. “We can—”

She placed her hand on his arm. “I’ll see you when I’m finished.”

George and Cora nodded and left.

She picked up her father’s journal and pen and paper. She was at Arik’s desk and began the difficult task of transcribing the pages.

There was a hush over the manor as the day lengthened into evening. Several times she gathered a book or two from the library and returned to the tower.

She worked through the night. The following afternoon she was done with the first draft. She reread the transcription. “I wasn’t expecting this,” she said to the empty room. Fine-tuning the draft wouldn’t change its meaning.