Ron said, “I thought, ‘You see? All this King Arthur stuff is nonsense. I’m just your ordinary nobody, going to die in a place I didn’t even know existed a year ago, delusions of grandeur notwithstanding.’ I wondered if I would hear the shot that killed me. If there would be much pain.
“Then, out of nowhere—and I do mean that, as we were far in advance of the rest of the troop—two flying gun ships and a handful of gunners appeared over the rise and took out the enemy. All of them. We were saved. We all got medals for our valor,” he said bitterly.
“That’s…that’s good, isn’t it?” Falke asked.
Ron shrugged. “When we got back to base, I locked myself in the loo and puked and karked myself for two days. Woke up in the med-tent, having fluids forced into me.”
“You had every right to react that way. What a terrifying thing to happen.” Harper said.
Ron shook his head slowly. “I lost it because it meant that I really was the heir to King Arthur. And because of that, the Goddess had just slaughtered a very large number of people to keep me alive. It’s as if I killed all of those Afghanis personally. I had the same reaction when I heard that London had been bombed. Millions of people dead and wounded! And for what? To put me on the throne? The hero?” He glared at Ava, as if it was somehow her fault by virtue of being the Goddess’ High Priestess. Ron shoved his cup away, then stalked out of the room.
The three of them watched the empty doorway in silence.
He has PTSD, which gives him the same problems I have.
Behind her, Harper said to Falke: “I never knew. He never said a word.”
Ava dashed into the great hall. Realizing she was being stupid, she stopped and reached out with her mind. He isn’t in the building. I can feel him, though. At the entry, the door was wide open to the night. Rain poured down as if shot from a fire hose nozzle. Lightning arced over the estuary. Somewhere out there, Ron was running hard, letting the rain wash his pain away, letting the physical work of his muscles dull the ache in his soul.
Ava felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Is he out there?” Harper asked.
“Yes.” Ron was right. He needed to deal with his pain the best way he knew how. Her meddling wouldn’t help right now. She would try working with him later.
A bolt of lightning shot over the castle, and with the thunder came a horrible presentment.
“Oh!” Harper gasped. “They’re here. The Helaites!”
Ava felt Ron in her mind—running almost mechanically, somewhere off to the north. But something was stalking him. It was like a black ball of hate rolling through the city, searching for him. “Harper, they’ll get to him first,” she whispered.
“Dad!” Falke came rushing in. “Those Helaites are after Lord Steadbye. They know he’s not in the castle!”
“I saw a truck downstairs, outside the kitchen. Let’s go,” Harper said, running ahead of them.
They sprinted out into the streaming rain and piled into the ancient vehicle. Harper jumped in. He searched the visor, the glove box, under the mat. “Dammit! No key!”
Ava focused carefully on the engine. The truck rumbled to life.
“You’re quite handy to have along in an emergency,” Harper said, as he directed the truck onto the road.
“He’s up ahead—north and a bit east,” Falke said.
Ava could feel that was so, but the roving negative energy was closer to him than they were. “Harper, can you track Ron without our help?”
There was a pause, then, “Yes, I can feel him clearly. I just have to find roads that get me to him. I don’t know Cardiff at all.”
“Falke, work with me to stop the Helaites.” As with his father, it wasn’t that Ava couldn’t deal with the situation alone, it was just that there are a lot of variables and connecting with him would help her focus and stabilize. She was terrified she was going to lose Ron—not just for the cause, but for her own heart’s sake.
In the greenish lights from the dials, Falke looked pale. But he thought at her: Ready.
She paired her power with his and directed it outward to search for Morgaine’s henchwomen. Soon, they could feel them. She told Falke: Three of them. They’re within blocks of Ron, but they can’t quite locate him.
What should we do? Falke asked.
Push with me. She sent their combined power out. The Helaite’s car came to an abrupt halt.
“They’ll have to go on foot if they want to catch him,” Falke said aloud.
“Ron’s just up ahead somewhere. Where are you, you silly bugger?” he muttered.
The lights touched on a figure in the middle of the road, jogging steadily through the downpour. “There!” Falke said.
Shadows raced down the street toward Ron.
“Harper!”
But he was already gunning the truck, zooming down the street toward the black-draped figures. One stopped and turned, reaching out.
Falke! Block her with me! And they sent their power straight into her brain. The force they used lifted the Helaite up and tossed her into a car park. The other two kept running—closing in on Ron. They were just ahead of the truck.
“Should I run into them?” Harper asked.
“No.” Ava focused their power on the closest one. She went down, and Harper had to veer in order not to hit her.
The last woman—a tall, thin figure in a cloak that flew in an invisible breeze despite the pouring rain—reached out.
She’s aiming for Ron, Falke. NOW! They hit the Helaite with everything they had.
And she disappeared before the truck struck her.
“Where the hell did she go?” Harper asked.
“Did we do that?” Falke asked. “Where is she?”
Ava swallowed hard. “She used her abilities to get someplace else. She’s very powerful, that one.”
“Can you do that? Vanish like that?” Falke asked.
“No.” There was no one in the Sisterhood who could do such a thing. And that scared Ava more than she was willing to admit.
Harper pulled the truck up next to Ron, but he ran on, not even noticing them.
Ava rolled down the window. “Ron!”
His head turned, but his expression was vacant. Ron slowed, then stopped. Harper put on the brakes. Ava got out and helped him in.
“You all right, Ron?” Harper asked, setting the truck in motion.
But Ron only looked over at him, as if he didn’t know who he was.
Ava wrapped her arms around him as they made their way back to the castle. After many wrong turns and one rushed trip down a one-way lane, they finally returned to Cardiff Castle. They went into the kitchen, where Harper made a quick mug of hot chocolate.
Ron stood there, still dripping, making no move to do anything at all. His aura was a muddy red, as if a grayish-black soot had enveloped it.
When Harper set the mug of steamy liquid in front of him, Ron didn’t react. Ava put it in his hand. He looked down at it, as if he didn’t have any idea what it might be.
“Drink some, please, Ron.” Ava reached out to his mind. He was almost numb with pain. Why didn’t we know how bad this was?
He took a noisy sip, his expression blank.
And then Ava knew. It’s the same reason the Sisterhood didn’t know how bad off I am…was. Ron didn’t want anyone to see that the heir of King Arthur was a terrified, emotional mess. No one wants a leader who hides under a bed, and he knew that. He pretended to be strong and never had a chance to heal. Somehow, he had enough power to block his best friend, and then me, from finding out how entirely damaged he is.
Oh, my beloved.
Ava took his free hand. “I think I’ll get him a hot shower. Why don’t you two try and get some rest. It’s going to be a very short night.”
Harper nodded and headed upstairs with Falke.
Ava followed, leading Ron up to their room. She directed him into the bathroom and turned on the shower, as hot as it would go. She helped him finish up the cocoa, then took off
his wet clothes. He was shivering, and his skin was ashy. She shed her own clothes and helped him into the shower. She stood behind him, holding on, letting the hot water pour down on them. Slowly, she rubbed his spine. She wasn’t a healer like her previous incarnation as Anya, but there were certain techniques Hébé had shown her through the years that were effective. By concentrating on giving him her strength and messaging his back, she hoped to help him through his mental anguish.
After a while, she had him turn around and massaged the solar plexus and heart chakras at just above his navel and in the center of his chest.
She felt him come back to himself as his body warmed. She kept up the message and the mental support, gently encouraging him to step away from his pain. Suddenly, he moaned and caught her up in his arms, holding her tightly. She redoubled the mental messages of love and support.
Forcefully, he kissed her. He didn’t mean to be rough, but after the gentleness of the last few nights, it was like making love with someone completely different. She felt his desperate need to connect, to love and be loved, to feel alive and have the touch of someone else, driving him. She let him grab her nipple and squeeze it. He gripped her behind and drove his pelvis into her. He was hard and ready right that moment. She felt how much he needed her—physically, as well as emotionally. When he lifted her, she rose up and wrapped her legs around his hips, taking him inside her. He turned and drove her back into the cold tile wall as he thrust deep into her. Ron’s eyes were closed, and he made a sound half-way between a cry and a moan. She gave herself to the rut, while keeping her mind in his, holding him up, loving him. After a time, he came, and she felt that sensation of exploding fireworks inside of her.
When she opened her eyes, he was watching her. Those blue eyes she had come to love were filled with tears. “Did I hurt you? I—”
“Shhh.” Ava kissed him. “You wouldn’t cause me pain.”
“No,” he said softly. “I wouldn’t mean to, but I’m worried I might.”
“Don’t be afraid. Now that I know about this agony in your mind, I’ll work with you, help you. I’m sorry you couldn’t tell me about this before,” Ava said.
“I wanted to. I did. I just...I couldn’t even form the words in my mind,” he said.
“It’s all right. Together, we can make each other stronger,” Ava said.
“I saw this awful chasm in you, when you were describing the accident. And the terrible fear inside of you,” he said.
“Yes. But you made it stop. And I’ve been so much better since we’ve been together. I’m hoping I can do the same for you,” she said.
He hugged her. “Mostly, I have terrible dreams, like that one the other night.”
“I had a pretty bad one our first night together,” she said.
He kissed her ear. “Little liar. ‘Just had to pee,’ hm?”
“Yes,” she admitted.
“You have to survive this today, Ava. I need you in my life. And I think you need me in yours.”
She rested her forehead on his wet cheek. “We are bound, beloved, and I believe it’s for a reason. I love you.”
They kissed for a long while. Then they washed each other off, got out of the shower, and slowly toweled each other.
“I’m in a right state for this thing today,” he said.
“How about a nap? We’ve got, oh, a whole hour until we’re supposed to get up and have breakfast.”
“Oh, well, if it’s all that time, then yes, let’s have a kip,” he said, sounding almost himself.
Ava had him go to bed while she dried her hair. As she expected, by the time she was done, Ron was snoring peacefully. She climbed into bed beside him and decided to read from The Book of Anya until the alarm went off. With a start, Ava recalled that she had written the book in a previous life! She turned to her favorite passage:
Consider, thou, the tall, tasseled river grass that grows in the marshland. Wind rushes down from the mountains, bending the stalks. Gusts roar in from the sea, fluttering and shaking the leaves. Storms rumble through from the uplands, swirling the seedheads this way and that. Yet, rather than stiffen and bear-up against this assault, the grass takes this as an invitation to dance. Her tendrils fly this way and that, her stalk weaves a complex movement, like a woman, hips swaying, moving to the beat. Great storms sweep in from the ocean or the highlands, sometimes even beating down the grass so that it looks to be laid low. But, observe! When the sun comes out, the grass rises tall again, stalk straight, leaves up-reaching to the Light. It is unbowed by passing weather. It knows the calm time will come again.
At the appointed moment, the grass will release its seeds to the riffling wind. Some of those will land on rock or water. A very few will land on fertile soil. Fewer still will take root and grow. See how the mother grass worries not once she has done what her nature commands her to do. She has given her full attention to that which must be, and let what she cannot affect take care of itself.
But at the base of this acceptance of change is the root system. Try to pull the plant out, and one may only snap off the stalk. Attempt to dig it out, and one may break the spade. The grass holds fast to the Earth, never letting go. It is firm in its purpose. It knows where it is in the great wide world, and what it must do. It cannot be moved.
At last, the end comes: the light grows weak and fades. Winter wind dries up the seeds and the stalks. Finally, the grass lies down and is buried by the snow. Yet the root retains her memory. She saves her strength for another day, when she will rise and dance in the wind once more.
So, too, do we live. So, too, must we be.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Midsummer Morning
Early Midsummer morning found them headed to London in a convoy. They were in the middle, in a large transport vehicle. Ava’s stomach was churning on the breakfast they’d been provided―sticky buns from a bakery about a mile from Cardiff Castle. The kitchen was deemed off-limits after the discovery of the poisoned soup, so they weren’t allowed to make tea that morning, even though they could show they’d made some in the night. Their minders shoved poorly brewed coffee in plastic containers into their hands and had them get in the vehicle. The bitter, chemical taste wouldn’t leave Ava’s mouth.
Every once in a while, the driver, Paul, stared into the rearview mirror at them. Ava guessed they looked pretty odd to him. They were each dressed in their traditional robes—Ron in a gorgeous royal purple with a large embroidered sword on the chest. Harper was in an ultramarine robe with the Tree of Life in the center. Ava was wearing her beautiful emerald robe Hébé thoughtfully sent from the Motherhouse. She touched the golden spells of protection on the front and hoped they helped.
Harper was wearing Merlin’s beaded necklace and amethyst ring; the Druid staff leaned against his left leg. Ron was wearing the Saxon necklace, King Arthur’s ring, and crown. Excalibur rested across his lap.
The gold and silver embroidered miter of the High Priestess—which was actually Hébé’s since Ava resigned in a text the night before—sat on the seat beside her. Ron seemed somewhat relieved when she had told him about leaving the Sisterhood that morning.
Paul said to Ron, “You really going to be king?”
Ron smiled a bit. “Possibly. Depends on if we make it through today.”
“Never thought I’d have a king my race,” Paul said, sitting up a bit straighter. “If my dad had lived to see this…”
“These are amazing times, to be sure,” Ron said.
Paul’s earpiece could be heard buzzing at him, and he turned his attention to it.
Falke was in the car with them, looking nervous and pale. He was holding on to his father’s arm in a fierce grip. He would be driven north to the government’s command post, about twenty miles north of the site, after Ava and the others were dropped off. He had descended into silence, although he looked as if he was in pain. The transport bounced over a pothole, and he moaned.
“What is it?” Ava asked.
F
alke’s face scrunched up. His aura pulsed gray.
“Migraine, I’m afraid. He’s been getting them for the last couple of years,” Harper said, gently rubbing the boy’s neck.
“He’s been tested, scanned?” Ava asked.
“Yes,” Harper said. “Nothing organic they can trace. The psychologist thought it might have something to do with losing his mother.”
“Is there anything he can take?” Ron asked, keeping his voice low.
“Nothing works that we’ve tried,” Harper said. “Usually he just has to go lie down in the dark until it passes.”
“Falke, would you let me try something? I used to get these when I was young, after I lost my mother,” Ava said.
“’Kay,” Falke whispered, just barely opening his eyes.
Ava placed the index finger of her right hand on his left brow, and her third finger on his right. With her middle finger, she tapped, slowly, in time with her heartbeat. The car was silent, with only the sound of the rain beating on the transport’s roof and the rumble of the tires on the macadam. After a while, she took her hand away. “Any better?”
Warily, Falke opened his eyes. He blinked a few times. “It’s…way better. What did you do?”
“My sister, the Sisterhood’s Chief Healer, taught me that sometimes we adepts get, well, out of phase. The area I was touching was your Third Eye. It’s sort of like a reset button when you tap it in time with your heartbeat.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I’ll remember that.”
“Thought you couldn’t heal anyone,” Ron said, as she turned back around.
“Migraines are pain, not illness.” She had to chuckle at the look he was giving her. “Not a healer. I just know some tricks.”
“Uh-huh,” he whispered, kissing her ear.
Ava’s phonestick chirped, and she looked at the download of messages. There was an update from Vera: her broadcast crew was in place and set up. Daniel Littori sent a message that the framework she had asked for was ready, but everyone was suffering from the radiation. It had taken the Eight Lights crew working all night in hazmat suits to accomplish the task. One of the details was setting up a strong antenna on-site. She told the others what the messages said.
The Midsummer Wife (The Heirs to Camelot Book 1) Page 25