The Golden Key Chronicles

by AJ Nuest

  Navigating the long gravel lane toward the event, Ollie explained Violet’s coven held the deepest respect for authenticity, and since she and Caedmon were on a first-name basis with all things medieval, Oliver proposed once they arrived, the two of them take the lead.

  This seemed fine by her. The quicker they learned the details of what happened during the troubled history of the Austiere Kingdom, the better. Yet the mounting tension pervading the grim set of Caedmon’s jaw led her to believe something besides mere carsickness was percolating through his veins. The restlessness emanating from his body like waves of summer heat rolled straight off of him and into her. Whatever worries he struggled to reconcile, their significance weighed heavily on his mind.

  She slammed the car door and faced the forest. Off to her left, a low log structure sat surrounded by tall evergreens that sloped down to a wide grassy field, the spacious double doorway at one end granting her an unobstructed view inside the facility. Myriad refreshments ran the length of a long table set before a stone fireplace. Card tables and folding chairs had been placed at intervals along the gray cement floor. A steady stream of people milled through the opening, either entering to grab a snack or leaving to follow the path of whickering torches to the fire pit below. High flames from the roaring bonfire leapt into the air, illuminating the faces of those standing in a semi-circle around the perimeter, palms outstretched toward the heat of the crackling wood. Most of the coven wore robes in colors of the season—deep browns, greens, rusts and oranges, though a few wore yellow and others black.

  A tall man peeled off from a group talking just outside the lodge door and started in their direction, lifting his hand in the air. “Greetings, strangers, and welcome!”

  He seemed friendly enough, and Rowena wove through the vehicles parked on the gravel lot to meet him. She pulled up short when Caedmon slid a hand down her arm and tugged her fingers. Right, right, ancient times and all that jazz. No woman would walk up to a complete stranger unescorted, much less a sorceress accompanied by three of her men.

  Caedmon stepped a bit before her onto the lawn and bowed at the waist, sweeping his hand across his knees in a manner befitting the royal court. “Greetings, my good sir, and well met this fine solstice eve.”

  The gentleman grinned, apparently pleased with the Caedmon’s effortless renaissance dialect, and extended his hand to clasp Caedmon’s forearm in a hearty handshake. “Please, call me Ben. I’m the High Priest of this coven. How’re you folks doing tonight?”

  “Hale and well, thank you. Prince Caedmon Eastaughffe Austiere, royal emissary and third in line to his majesty’s throne.” Caedmon opened a palm toward their group. “Allow me to introduce Her Radiance, Sorceress Rowena of the Veil, Wizard Oliver the Gray and Jon the…the…” A frown pleated Caedmon’s brow as he skimmed Jon’s attire. “Court jester.”

  Jon tossed his head, crossing his arms. “I was supposed to be a royal guard.”

  Oliver jabbed an elbow into Jon’s ribs, a pleasant smile concreted in place.

  “You favor us by wearing white, Sorceress.” Ben lifted Rowena’s hand and kissed her knuckles. “Though Mabon is the time we choose to honor our dark mother, we also celebrate nature’s balance. We reap what has been sewn, embrace the earth’s descent into darkness, and yet your presence will serve to remind us of the returning light. Please, make yourselves at home.” He swung his hand toward the lodge. “Would you care for some refreshments before the ceremony begins?”

  “Your generosity is most kind.” Rowena inclined her head. “Unfortunately, we cannot stay.”

  “Oh?” He turned back to her, frowning. “Then how can I help you?”

  The hint of suspicion in his tone revved her fight or flight response, and Rowena didn’t miss the way Caedmon’s hand casually came to rest on his pommel. Fake blade or not, no doubt remained he could do serious damage with that weapon if he so chose.

  She placed a hand on his arm. “Any other time, we’d love to join you. Alas, tonight we’ve come on a dire errand, seeking the aid of witch named Violet.”

  “And our matters are those of a private nature.” Caedmon crossed his thick arms, widening his stance.

  The High Priest edged back a step, his eyes narrowed, studying each of their faces in turn.

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” The voluminous sleeves of Oliver’s robes rustled as he tossed his hands in the air. “Tell her Oliver has arrived with an old friend. We need to talk to her, that’s all.”

  Ben shifted his wary focus to Oliver. A tense moment passed before he nodded and jerked his head toward the gathering. “Okay. Follow me.”

  Rowena settled the hood of her cape low over her forehead, chin down, peeking out from under the hem as Ben led them into the building and through the mingling crowd toward the rear of the lodge. Though she’d never run with Violet’s crowd, purposely exposing herself when they were so close to achieving their goal was a foolish risk. If even one of Violet’s friends recognized her, their whole cover would be shot to hell…and quick.

  They stopped at a door and Ben twisted the knob, showing them into an office complete with several metal filing cabinets, a wooden desk, a laptop computer, printer, fax and modem. Lips turned down at the corners, Rowena nodded as she entered. Apparently, even witches had records to keep.

  “Wait here.” Ben appraised them all once again before exiting, shutting the door behind him.

  “Do you think we pissed him off?” Jon strolled toward a bookcase, hands clasped behind his back. He slid one of the volumes off the shelf and thumbed through the pages.

  “Who cares?” Oliver scratched at his beard. “We got in undetected and that’s all that matters.”

  A moment later, the door flew open and Violet burst into the room. She skidded to a stop, searching each face, and when she locked eyes with Rowena, she squealed, raced forward and tossed her arms around Rowena’s neck. “I knew it! When Ben said Ollie was here with an old friend, I knew it had to be you.”

  Rowena hugged Violet just as tight in return, though how the young woman had deciphered Oliver’s cryptic message remained a mystery. “You did?” Rowena laughed softly as Violet rocked her back and forth. “How did you guess the ‘old friend’ was me?”

  “Oh, come on.” She withdrew and held Rowena at arm’s length, bangles jingling on her wrists. “You must think I’m a complete idiot. I knew it was only a matter of time before you came back. What other choice did you have?” Linking their hands, she led Rowena to a tattered couch along the far wall and sat them on the threadbare cushions. “What was it like, boss? When you went through the mirror, I mean. Tell me everything you remember.”

  Rowena slowly eased away from the sparkle of excitement in Violet’s blue eyes, her ruddy cheeks and clever smile. Exactly how much had Violet learned while she was away?

  Caedmon cleared his throat and, when Rowena glanced up, the trepidation in his gaze mirrored her unease. Agreed. Violet apparently understood more about their present predicament than she’d ever admitted to Oliver and Jon. Yet how much more remained to be seen. “We don’t really have time for that, Violet. I’m only here because I need your help before we go back. Can you tell us—”

  “Go back?” Violet’s eyes rounded in alarm and she quickly glanced around the room. “No, no, you can’t go back.” She clenched Rowena’s fingers harder, tighter. “You mustn’t. Are you crazy?”

  Rowena frowned, struggling to process Violet’s intense reaction. A lead balloon sank in her stomach and, with it, her eyes slid closed. Shit. Violet hadn’t only learned everything they’d been through. She’d somehow discovered what was yet to come…and the final chapter of this story wasn’t good.

  Caedmon lowered to one knee, clasped Violet’s shoulders and turned her to face him. Goosebumps pebbled the skin on Rowena’s arms as the worry in his gaze morphed into ice cold fear. “You must tell us everything. I beg you. If your visions foretell a grim future, I would hear all that shall come to pass.”

 
Violet peered at Caedmon’s fingers, digging into her upper arms, and slowly returned her gaze to his. “And you are…?”

  “The protector of my kingdom’s most valued treasure, and husband to the same, Sorceress Rowena of the Veil.”

  Jon snapped the book shut. “Uh oh…”

  “What?” Oliver’s arms flew into the air, his sleeves flapping like Dart’s wings just before her beloved falcon soared skyward. “You’re married? Since when? And how come you never told me?”

  Rowena scrubbed a hand over her face, frustration heating to a low roil in her chest. For God’s sake, the entire night was circling a toilet bowl like someone had just flushed the water. If she didn’t rescue it soon, this conversation was liable to head in a direction she didn’t have the time or patience to follow. “Not formally, but yes, for all intents and purposes, we’re husband and wife. Now can we please get back to the matter at hand?”

  Oliver squinted, crossing his arms, foot tapping an impatient rhythm that no doubt matched the annoyance pumping through his veins.

  “Violet.” The young woman turned and Rowena smiled in reassurance. “Can you tell us what you know?”

  “I can do better than that.” She stood, her black robe trailing along the concrete floor as she approached the desk. She opened the laptop and clicked a folder entitled Rowena’s Key.

  The images flashed rapid-fire, one document layering on top of the next, the type and pictures popping so quickly, Rowena didn’t have a chance to catch a word.

  “After your disappearance, I sorta got a new perspective on things so I started my research from scratch.” Violet pulled out the desk chair and sat, aiming her finger at the screen. “Look here. When the mysterious Rowena first appears in history, her arrival with the key is the catalyst which eventually leads to a war. Later on, this battle is named the Night of Silver Knives due to her abilities with a blade. Although she’s regaled as a stunning beauty, she’s also depicted as wickedly immoral, and is credited as the character behind several quasi-historic women such as King Arthur’s Morgan le Fay, the witch from Hansel and Gretel. She even claims rights as being the original evil step-mother.”

  Okay, that wasn’t so bad. Certainly nothing Rowena hadn’t already expected based on Violet’s research from two years ago. Besides, accounts from history could be skewed depending on the person who wrote them.

  Violet clicked to another page and Rowena gasped. Caedmon smoothed his hand up her back and squeezed her shoulder, and thankfully so. The small gesture of support kept her rooted in the present.

  The image on the screen depicted an antique portrait of her; long blonde hair flowing past a gown of gold-trimmed white, several men kneeling in reverence at her feet. She fingered the gold trim of her collar and a shiver stole through her body. If she was seeing the details clearly, the gray wizard standing back a pace from her right elbow was none other than Fandorn. Dammit.

  A few more clicks of the mouse and Violet shuffled the documents, rearranging the order. “Here’s where things get tricky. After Rowena worms her way into the royal household, all hell breaks loose. The prince and rightful heir to the throne rebels against her and, in return, she poisons him and flees back to her home, the neighboring kingdom to the north. No accounts are given as to whether the reigning prince dies, but evidently the king is so distraught by her betrayal, he becomes terribly ill and takes to his bed, no longer able to rule.”

  Rowena locked eyes with Caedmon, and the grief-stricken worry in his gaze sapped the strength from her knees. His father. King Austiere sick and bed-ridden. His illness would leave the kingdom undefended. And what’s worse, historians had laid the blame at her feet, naming her an underground member of Castle Seviere. Well, no wonder Braedric’s hashishans had been hell bent on returning her to the castle. They believed her to be a traitor. She swallowed hard. They thought that when she rode north, her goal was to deliver Austiere secrets to Seviere. But that wasn’t the case at all. Her objective had been to reclaim the key.

  Her hands fisted at her sides. Only one man in the entire Austiere Kingdom could have made everyone believe such a terrible rumor, and who knew what other lies Braedric had concocted to explain her disappearance.

  “You can guess what happens next.” Violet clicked to another document and then swiveled the chair to face them. “In the king’s weakened state, his enemies to the north decide to invade, all thanks to the seductive trickery of Sorceress Rowena. For a while, she’s declared a hero of her people and leads the charge, but in the end all her preparations prove fruitless. Somehow the reigning prince catches wind of the ensuing invasion and rides out with his army to meet Rowena’s legions. His campaign is successful and he chases his enemies back to their home turf, defeating them once and for all. In the end he becomes the hero and savior of his country.”

  Rowena slumped as the weight of worry slipped from her shoulders. Well thank God for small favors. Even though she supposedly rousted Seviere’s armies to attack, the Austiere Kingdom was victorious in the end. She blew out a terse breath, shaking her head. What a mess. What a complete mess. Then again, in a back-handed, role-reversal sort of way, the story did make sense. If Braedric painted her as the enemy, he could do away with her and claim his place as the hero of his people once and for all. Still, he was wrong about one thing. Never in her wildest dreams would she join with Seviere…not to mention that asshole Gaelleod.

  She frowned, tapping a finger against her chin. But what about the key? And the armoire? Where did they figure into the picture?

  Too many pieces were missing and, regardless, they still had to get back. If not to clear her name, at the very least to attend King Austiere. Now more than ever, her and Caedmon’s best bet would be to jump back through the mirror and make for home as quickly as possible. Maybe they could even tip the scales of power ever farther in Austiere’s favor. Sort of…provide the preverbal heads up to what was coming before Seviere’s soldiers had the chance to ride for war.

  Her brows rose. Hell, maybe that’s exactly what they’d done.

  “And Sorceress Rowena?” Caedmon cleared a husky frog from his throat. “What of her?”

  Violet shifted her focus between them. She licked her lips, dropping her gaze. “She’s burned alive by wizard’s fire, deep within the fortress of Castle Seviere.”

  Chapter Five

  Twigs snapped beneath the determined stride of his boots. Gnarly fingers of the barren branches clawed at his sleeves but he pressed forward, driven by some inner demon he had neither the means nor authority to escape.

  A death sentence. With each word of Violet’s prophecy, his heart had slowed, its rhythm squeezed within the desperate clutches of terror’s menacing fist. Should his love return through the mirror, she would die as surely as if he’d drawn his sword and plunged it into her chest himself.

  Yet for her to stay in this realm would wound her just as deeply. To reinstate the centuries and distance between their hearts would forever wound them both. The fading of her sweet kiss, the absence of her silky skin beneath his palms and the whisper of her love in his ear would become nothing more than a bitter reminder of all they had lost.

  He broke through the forest and into an open glen, clenched his hands and marched down the slope to the water’s edge. The undying light of Selene’s pearlescent face spilled a milky trail over the black water, the shattered remains of Helios’s white heart reflecting across the surface like diamonds scattered at Caedmon’s feet.

  No matter which course they trod, his love would be once again torn from his side. Fate had granted them no other choice. For her to survive, Rowena must remain in this realm. Yet, survive she would, out of harm’s way, far removed from Gaelleod’s evil magic or where the dangers of his world could ever touch her. He raked both hands through is hair and fisted the strands. Far removed from the protection of his arms or the tending of her lips with a gentle kiss.

  With a snarl, he spun away from the idyllic view and resumed his restless stride alo
ng the shore. Curse the moon goddess and her callous lover. How many hearts must be destroyed to provide their idle folly? What more lives should be torn asunder to bend to their will?

  “There you are.”

  He whirled to face his white sorceress, the slippery ground squelching beneath his boots. She hopped to the side and pried one of her silk slippers from her foot, and he quickly reached out to steady her arm.

  “You know there’s a paved path that leads down to the water.” She tipped the shoe and emptied several small pebbles onto the sand. “I don’t know why you had to storm off like that through the woods.” She returned the shoe under the folds of her skirt, stood and dusted several dry leaves off her shoulders. “I could kill Oliver for making me wear this dress. You wouldn’t have gotten away from me if I’d been wearing a decent pair of leather boots.”

  He smiled despite himself, plucking a few errant twigs from her hair. “I had neither the means nor sensibility to ascertain my direction. My only thought was to flee the confines of that room.”

  Moonbeams frolicked along the porcelain planes of her face as she shook out the tiers of her white gown. “Well, the next time you disappear into the night, try to remember my wardrobe limitations.”

  His smile faded as his heart rebelled. There would be no ‘next time.’ Not for them.

  A grunt blurted from her throat as he yanked her close, squeezing her tight to his chest. She pounded his back and wriggled in his arms. “Caedmon…too tight. I can’t breathe.”