Oracle Dreams Trilogy

by Teri Barnett

  Jacqueline smiled and patted her husband’s hand. “Your father does have a soft spot, you know, hidden beneath all that gruff.”

  Valerie opened her eyes as their coach drew to a halt, having arrived at the shipyard. It listed to one side as the driver stepped down and opened the door. Frederick eased out the narrow door and helped Jacqueline disembark, then Valerie. Reggie hopped out last.

  “We should greet our new traveling companions,” Frederick announced.

  The driver was assisting a small woman, bent with age, down the steps of the other carriage.

  Frederick greeted her warmly and introduced her to Jacqueline.

  Valerie froze. “Hekate?” she whispered.

  “Did you say something?” Jacqueline asked.

  Valerie nodded toward the old woman. “I—uh—I believe I know that woman.”

  “And how do you know her, Val?”

  “Yes, Val. How do you know her?” Reggie echoed.

  “I, um, I met her at the site, before the accident.” Valerie’s next thought escaped her as a tall, dark-haired man stepped out of the carriage after the old woman.

  Her breath caught. It couldn’t be!

  Oh, please let it be!

  Valerie’s free hand flew to her throat. Her vision blurred and she struggled to keep from fainting.

  Christos!

  He smiled and inclined his head in greeting…but his eyes - those beautiful ebony eyes - were full of love.

  Hekate clapped her hands together. “Ah, Valerie. Nice to see you, again.” She patted her chest and winked. “You listened to the heart, eh?”

  “You two have met?” Frederick asked.

  “Around the site. I see your daughter. She give me water.” The woman smiled. “She’s a good girl.”

  Before Valerie could say anything, Hekate motioned to the man standing beside her. “This my nephew, Christos Campagna.” She pointed to her carriage. “And his daughter, Clare. They gonna travel with you to England.” Just then, Clarus climbed down, smiled, and offered a shy wave.

  Clarus!

  Valerie’s eyes flew to the girl and then to Christos. She fought back the urge to throw herself into his arms. Her thoughts tripped over themselves.

  How did they get here? Vesuvius claimed them. I saw both Christos and Clarus die!

  Silent tears swept down her cheeks. She pulled her eyes from Christos’s dear face and looked off into the distance, where the remains of the great volcano loomed on the horizon. After almost two thousand years of eruptions, it didn’t look nearly so terrifying to her anymore.

  “You are thinking of the past?” Christos asked in a heavy accent.

  Numbly, Valerie nodded, as she realized he was speaking English. It must have been Hekate’s magic.

  “My aunt tells me marvelous tales of lovers whose fate Vesuvius has sealed. Perhaps, if you like, I will share these stories with you on the ship?”

  Valerie smiled through her tears. “Your aunt is a very wise woman with a talent for the improbable.”

  Frederick cleared his throat. “We should be going now, young lady.”

  Valerie nodded. “Please, Papa. Just a moment with Hekate before she has to leave.”

  Frederick glanced at Christos, then the old woman. “Don’t take too long. We’re on a schedule here.”

  “I won’t Papa,” she said. Turning, she wrapped her arms around Hekate and hugged her tight. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.” Valerie suddenly remembered the figure bent over Christo’s body after he’d fallen. “It was you, wasn’t it?”

  “Love always survive, even the mists of time,” Hekate whispered.

  Valerie looked at Christos and her voice quivered when she spoke. “Yes, it does, my dear friend. Yes, it does.”

  Hekate smiled, her dark eyes sparkling. “Everyone needs a little help, sometimes, when facing a crossroads.”

  Valerie hoped Lucy wouldn’t put up a fuss and insist she take a nap. But Lucy surprised her. When Valerie told her she was going to join Reggie on deck and take in a stroll, Lucy beamed and nodded in agreement, saying she was going to take a stroll herself with Johnny.

  Valerie trembled with anticipation as she made her way topside. She had so many questions for Christos but there would be time enough to ask them.

  A lifetime.

  Christos was leaning against the railing looking out to sea. The rush of emotions of the last few days hit Valerie hard as she approached him, and she stumbled. Christos’s strong arms caught her before she fell to her knees. He took her hands in his. “Ah, my love,” he murmured in his ancient dialect.

  “How?” she asked, the words barely a whisper. She studied his face. “And you’re not hurt.”

  Christos shook his head. “I don’t know how it happened. After you left, I heard someone calling my name. I opened my eyes. It was Hekate. Just like the goddess she’s named for—she took my hand in death…

  “The next thing I knew I was surrounded by the ruins of the city. She took me into her home and dear Clarus was there asleep on a bed.” He nodded at Clarus who was sitting on a bench beside Reggie, patiently nodding as he instructed her on tying sailor’s knots. “Hekate told us she’d know where to find you.”

  “I am so glad she did.” Valerie’s eyes filled with tears. “I thought I had lost you forever.”

  “Ah, Valerie, you are my life. I will go to this England of yours and do whatever is necessary to make you my wife.” Tears filled his eyes. “By the gods,” he rasped, “I swear to you that nothing will ever separate us again.”

  Valerie nodded through her own tears. “That day when I went to the market with Stella and Clarus, I met Hekate in the street and she told me to have faith, that all I needed to do was to listen to my heart and I would find my way home.”

  “And did you?” he whispered, his hand caressing her cheek.

  “Yes. Yes, I did.”

  Epilogue

  Christos stood against the stone railing of the large wrap-around porch of his new home and looked out over the countryside of his adopted country. This place was not the Britannia of his memory, but a civilized country of cities filled with all manner of people. Almost twelve months had passed since he’d arrived, and he was still learning. He glanced over at Valerie, where she sat in a rocker with her morning tea, moving rhythmically back and forth. Drawn to her, he crouched next to her chair.

  “How are you, my love?” One year in wedded bliss and he was still amazed she was his.

  Valerie ran a hand over the swell of her belly. “I am well.” She touched his cheek. “I’ve never been happier.”

  He took her by the hand and helped her stand. They embraced and she giggled when he jumped back, the baby soundly kicking him.

  “Val!” Clarus came running from the back of the house. “Look! Grandmama and Grandpapa are here!” She bounded onto the porch and pointed at the carriage coming up the cobblestone drive.

  Christos ruffled her hair. “You best go clean yourself up before Lucy spies you.”

  Clarus giggled. “Lucy is all bark and no bite.”

  Christos shook his head as his gaze met his wife’s twinkling eyes. Clarus had taken to life in England like a duckling to water.

  “I bet Lucy has a basket of your favorite cinnamon scones,” Valerie said, tapping Clarus’ nose.

  “They’re the best!” Clarus said. “I’ll be back in a jiffy,” she called over her shoulder as she bolted for the door. “Don’t eat them without me.”

  “We won’t,” husband and wife said in unison.

  “Will she ever slow down?” Christos moaned.

  “I hope she never does,” Valerie said. “And neither will we.” She slipped her arms around his shoulders and smiled into his eyes.

  Christos’s breath caught at the beauty in the emerald depths.

&n
bsp; He bent his head and kissed her soft lips.

  “You have bewitched me since the beginning of time,” he whispered against her lips.

  “Is that a complaint?” She giggled into his neck.

  “Never.” He tilted her chin up for one more lingering kiss. “You are my past, my present, and my future.”

  “The future is ours as long as we follow our hearts,” Valerie said as she placed his hand on her swollen belly. “Forever.”

  “Forever.”

  www.teribarnett.com

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you to the Indiana Writers’ Workshop. Your insightful critiques and unwavering support have kept me going over the years and made this book possible.

  For my parents, Frank and Margaret Barnett,

  my biggest cheerleaders

  and the ones who told me I could do anything.

  You are both deeply missed.

  Prologue

  Near Paran

  The Plane of Keilah

  “We have a visitor, Ma’am.”

  The High Priestess Liazar licked her lips in anticipation as the guest was ushered into her chambers. She moved quickly to her simple, carved wooden chair, and sat down. “My, my. What have we here? Come, stand in front of me child. I’d like to have a better look at you.” With long, thin fingers, she motioned to the girl, her pearl and garnet ring glistening in the candlelight. “How old are you, Cherub?”

  “Seven, Ma’am.”

  Liazar openly displayed her pleasure with a wide smile, her teeth shining in the candlelight. Seven! So young! Surely, the little one had many years ahead of her. She looked the girl over, admiring the sweet rosy cheeks and long silver-blonde hair.

  “What do they call you?”

  “Sarah, Ma’am,” the child answered solemnly. “Sarah M’Doro.”

  “And you have no kin here in Paran?”

  The girl wrinkled up her forehead as she thought. “Well, there is my mother. And my grandfather. Papa died long ago. I don’t remember much about him.”

  Liazar looked sharply at her maid, Esther. “I told you to bring only orphans, didn’t I?”

  Esther glanced down, studying the squat shadow she cast onto the floor. “I’m sorry, Ma’am. When I found her playing in the woods, I assumed she belonged to no one. Who would let their child run free like that?” She rushed over to the girl as quickly as her bulk would allow and knelt at her side. “But she is a pretty one, isn’t she? Just look at the life in her eyes.”

  The High Priestess shifted in her chair. This was a dilemma. If there were relatives to miss the child when she didn’t return home, there could be trouble. She looked again at Sarah, feeling her need growing. Of course, the absence of one child could be easily explained, particularly if she were left to run alone. Perhaps wild animals might have dragged her away. Liazar smiled again. She leaned forward, her long red hair spilling over her shoulders.

  “Come nearer to me, Sarah M’Doro.”

  Sarah hesitated for a moment. Esther gave her a little shove from behind. “Go on, girl. You don’t want to make the High Priestess angry now, do you?”

  Sarah shook her head. Slowly, she took a step toward Liazar. She stopped, the candlelight casting deep shadows around her slight form. “I’m afraid. Please let me go home.”

  “Now, now, Cherub. There’s no need to fear. I only want to give you a hug before I send you on your way.” Liazar reached for the child. “Is that all right with you?”

  The girl shrugged her shoulders. “I suppose that would be all right. As long as you promise.”

  “I promise I will let you go as soon as I’ve hugged you.”

  Sarah moved to stand directly in front of Liazar. She held her arms out, innocent, waiting for the embrace.

  Liazar sucked in her breath as she noticed the downy softness of the child’s skin and the long lashes that brushed her cheeks. She raised her hands and placed them on either side of Sarah’s head, the thumbs resting over the girl’s eyebrows. Murmuring quietly, she closed her eyes and uttered an ancient incantation.

  Suddenly, Sarah swayed and fell with a soft thud to the thickly carpeted floor. Liazar opened her eyes and took a deep breath. “Put her form with the others, Esther,” she bade. “Take care she’s kept safe.”

  As the maid carried the child away, Liazar eased back into the chair, smiling. She lifted her hands, feeling the flushed warmth of her face and the firm, smooth skin. Blood pounded in her temples and her heart raced. The transference was complete. She now possessed the little one’s soul and the years it had left to live.

  Soon, she thought, soon I will be immortal!

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  The rain poured down, beating incessantly against the freshly turned dirt. Small rivulets formed, carrying the water into the excavated pits of the Diggers, the ones who searched for historical artifacts for their world.

  “We should stop for the day,” one of them grumbled.

  “I’m soaked clear through to the bone,” another joined in. “Ian,” the man called to the expedition’s leader, “can we hit the tents?” The workman gestured with his head toward the small encampment.

  “Hold up a minute. I found something,” he called back as he unearthed a metal object. “Bethany, come take a look at this.”

  Bethany M’Doro stepped carefully over the grid of strings that marked the area where the Diggers were working. The ground was slick, and she had to be careful not to slip and fall into one of the holes. Reaching Ian Johns, she ducked under the tarpaulin covering his work area and squatted down at his side, feeling a comfortable familiarity in his presence.

  Ian, tall and solid, had been at her side as long as she could remember, through the birth of her child and the death of her husband. Now they worked side by side. She felt a great kinship for the man she called friend. He handed her the medium-sized silver filigree box he had just discovered. She gingerly turned it over in her hands, carefully washing the red mud away with water from a nearby bucket.

  “Did you find the key?” she asked, noticing the container was locked.

  Ian shook his head. “What can you tell me about it? If there’s anything worth saving inside, I don’t want to destroy the contents trying to get it opened.”

  She closed her eyes as several of the workers gathered nearby, eager to hear what the woman had to say about their latest find. Knowers always accompanied them on the digs; they used their ability to read the vibrations left behind on an artifact to tell of its previous owner. This was one of the more important parts of an excavation as it was the Digger’s duty to help the people of Paran learn of their past through the science and magic of archeology.

  When Bethany opened her eyes again, the light topaz color had turned a deep azure blue, a sure sign to the men and women around her that she was in the Knowing. She ran her fingers over the elaborate carvings of the box.

  “This contains a manuscript,” she started. Then the expression on her face turned from wonder to fear as hundreds of cuneiform letters ran through her mind. “I thought this was only a legend,” she whispered.

  “What is it, Bethany? Tell me what you see,” Ian demanded.

  “It’s the Book, Ian. The Book of Eitel.” According to legend, the Eitellans were a fringe group who practiced in secret, stealing children and young adults away from their homes, never to be seen again. Some said they lived forever and still roamed the forests of Paran.

  “That’s impossible. The Eitellans are the stuff of myth. A story told to make children behave.”

  “I know this well—my own mother would threaten to sell me to them when I misbehaved.” She smiled, her eyes misting at the memory of Mama and how she always tried to be strict. She shook off the melancholy. “But I tell you, real or not, this is what the Knowing says about this box. Were there any other items with this?”<
br />
  Ian motioned to one of the workers. “Hand me that bucket over there.”

  When the worker returned, Ian spread a cloth on the ground. Then, he slowly poured the contents out in front of Bethany. He looked through the dirt and stones until he found a woman’s hair comb. He handed it to the Knower. “Only this. It was located in the layer above the box.”

  “Was there anything else?”

  Ian leaned over and began sifting the soil between his fingers. “Well, if you look closely at the composition of this dirt, it looks quite a bit like there’s ashes mixed in. I sifted through some of it and I think there are bone particles here as well, but I can’t be certain.”

  Bethany nodded. She scooped up a handful of the dirt and closed her eyes, waiting for whatever images presented themselves. But there was only darkness. “It’s no good, Ian.” She brushed one hand against the other, cleaning the dirt away. “There’s not enough substance left to the bones for me to be able to identify them.” Bethany turned her attention to the comb, moving her fingers over the thin tortoise shell teeth and the slightly raised mother of pearl inlay. This time, the images came.

  “I want you to have this, Elizabeth.” A tall man, with thick black hair and piercing eyes, handed the comb to a woman. “I love you,” he whispered.

  “Thank you. I’ll wear it always,” Elizabeth replied, a smile playing about her lips. She rolled her long brown hair into a knot on top of her head and fastened it with the comb. Turning her back to the man, she bade, “Unfasten the buttons for me, Connor. I’d like to show you just how thankful I am.”

  Connor ran his hands along Elizabeth’s arms in a sweeping caress. He paused at her back and began to remove her dress.