“I'll do whatever it takes.” She glanced up at the sky. “I owe him that much.”
“I can't believe I ride unarmed.” Stephen patted his hip. “'Tis naked I am, without my sword.”
“I know, but we must travel free of weapons or entry to the sacred realm will be denied. We'll be in no danger.” She hoped. Truth was, she wasn't certain how the Guardians would react to uninvited visitors, armed or not.
By the time they reined in their horses on the crest of a hill, the sun had already sunk below the horizon and the last remnants of daylight were yielding to the night. The only sound, apart from the whisper of the breeze, was the occasional bleat of a solitary sheep calling out to its flock.
Below them, in the twilight of a small secluded vale, sat a massive circle of ancient, moss covered stones. Emma's soul stirred, aroused by the mystical echoes of three thousand years.
This was a sacred place.
“They're here,” she said, thinking out loud.
“Are you sure, little one?” Stephen murmured, his voice doubtful. “'Tis but an abandoned pagan monument. I see no sign of life.”
“That's because you're a mortal.” Emma smiled and urged her horse down the hill.
They dismounted and approached the stone circle in silence, ribbons of evening mist swirling about their feet. A black shape, silent and swift, dropped from the sky, wings outstretched. A crow. It settled on one of the stones and let out a ragged caw.
“Now I know Alex is nearby.” Stephen squinted into the gathering dusk. “But where? What are we looking for?”
“Do you not hear them?” Emma brushed her fingers across the nearest stone. “Listen.”
Stephen opened his mouth to answer, but paused, his eyes widening.
“I hear drums,” he said. “Nay. Singing. And... laughter. Or is it weeping? Children's voices. My God, what is this, Emma? Some kind of magic?”
She smiled. “Of sorts. You're hearing the voices of those who have passed before us.”
“Voices of the dead?”
“Oh, they're not dead. They're simply elsewhere.” Emma glanced around the stones. “As are the Guardians.”
“So how do we find them?”
Emma stepped toward a large stone at the north end of the circle. “We've already found them.”
Stephen followed her. “Do they know we're here?”
She shook her head. “Nay. At least, I doubt it. They're not expecting an intrusion. Especially not a mortal one.”
She traced her forefinger around a single spiral carved into the stone, following what she knew to be the path of the Celts, a symbolic representation of the journey from outer consciousness to the inner soul.
Below it another much younger pattern had been carved into the granite - a line without end that twisted around to form an intricate knot.
The Gordian knot. The symbol of the Guardians.
She closed her eyes and flattened her palm against it. The pulse deep within the rock matched her heartbeat, and something stirred inside her, a connection stretching across millennia. Her skin prickled. She knew the sacred stone was nearby.
“'Tis the same design as that on the hilt of Alex's sword,” Stephen murmured. “He told me about it. 'Twas the knot that could not be undone. The Gordian knot. The great king Alexander sliced it open with his sword.”
Emma smiled and slipped her hand in his. “Do you feel it?”
He nodded. “Aye, little faerie. I feel it. A pulse, a heartbeat. 'Tis as if it comes from the earth itself.”
“It does.” She stood on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Close your eyes, my love, and do not let go of my hand. Your little faerie is about to share her wings with you.”
Emma closed her eyes and took a deep breath, emptying her mind of every thought and belief until she became as a newborn, pure of heart and utterly void of human influence. Then her soul took flight for the second time that day, soaring past mortal barriers, this time seeking not a heavenly realm, but an earthly one.
And, like Heaven, it was a realm invisible to most mortal men.
The ground seemed to fall away. For a brief moment, Emma felt suspended in mid-air, with nothing but the wind in her face and the warmth of Stephen's hand in hers. The only sounds were their breathing and the deep steady pulse of the earth. Then she felt stone beneath her feet and Stephen's hand squeezing hers.
She opened her eyes and blinked away the darkness.
They were in a massive cavern. A pale light, gentle and soft as a midsummer dawn, emanated from the rugged walls, while the corners were steeped in shadow blacker than a winter's night. Several passageways led off here and there, stretching into darkness, yet Emma felt no fear.
Stephen placed a protective arm around Emma's waist. ““My God,” he whispered. “Look at this place.”
At the centre of the cavern stood a long rectangular table of black granite, and in the centre of that, an ornately carved golden cross. At its feet lay the sacred sword, free from its scabbard. The stone pulsated a steady blue light, matching the strange beat Emma felt beneath her.
This was not an evil place. On the contrary, she sensed only a benevolent force inhabiting these earthly bowels. Neither she nor Stephen would come to any harm. But would they prevail in their quest?
All at once, she heard a collective gasp echo off the ancient walls, and the familiar sound of a sword being drawn from the scabbard.
Keir flew from the shadows like a bird of prey, the light catching his naked blade as he strode toward them, his expression rigid with shock.
“Do you get the feeling we took them by surprise?” Stephen pulled Emma closer to him.
“Aye,” she said. “I do.”
“How in God's good name did you find us?” Keir asked, his voice edged with disbelief. “And how the hell did you enter here?”
“That,” bellowed another deep, angry voice from the shadows, “is what I should like to know.”
“We are unarmed, my lord,” said Emma. “We present no threat to you or your companions.”
Keir lowered his blade, a muscle twitching in his jaw. “You will both answer for this intrusion.”
Stephen's hand stiffened against Emma's waist. “There's no need to threaten us.” He glanced at Emma. “As my lady has already indicated, we stand before you unarmed.”
Emma smiled. “We would not have been allowed entry to this realm otherwise. Is that not so, my lord Keir?”
Keir frowned and looked behind him, as if seeking guidance from someone hidden in the shadows.
One by one, human shapes emerged from the darkness, eleven in all, forming a semi-circle around the table. These, Emma knew, were the Guardians, their allusive power infusing the air as they studied their mortal visitors with illuminated eyes. They meted out an impression of wolves stalking their prey, yet Emma felt unafraid and did not balk. Instead, she lifted her chin, pushed her shoulders back, and met their scrutiny head on. Her breath caught as she found and held Finn's gaze, unable to decipher the strange expression on his face. Keir sheathed his sword and moved to stand with him.
Emma's mind caught Stephen's unspoken question. “Aye,” she murmured. “This is the Circle.”
One of them stepped forward, his long hair white as frost, framing a wizened face, pale in contrast to his dark eyes. His tunic was emblazoned with the outline of a shield, split by a black chevron and graced with the silhouettes of three ravens.
“Who are these intruders? These interlopers?” he demanded, his words rolling around the cavern walls like thunder as he strode toward Emma, who recognized the angry voice as the one she'd heard earlier. “And one of them a mere maid, no less. How can this be? 'Tis a grievance against our order.”
Emma stood her ground and inclined her head. “'Tis my honour to meet you, my lord Riderch. We mean no disrespect.”
He gasped and stopped mid stride, his eyes widening.
“How do you know me, child?” he asked, his voice now bearing a hint of wonder.
Emma shrugged. “In truth, I cannot say how. But I do know you. You're Lord Riderch, ancient king of the Northmen, a revered elder of the Circle.” She looked past him to the men at his back. “I know all of you. Every one.”
A movement caught her eye, something off to her left. Another figure, who had been seated in shadow, arose from his seat and stepped into the light. His face was drawn with fatigue, yet it shone with pride and love when he looked at her.
Cùra.
Emma's heart missed a beat, her eyes burning with sudden tears. She let out a small cry and took a step forward, only to be stopped by a firm yet gentle hand.
“You will not approach him,” said Riderch. “Not yet. I would know first how you came to be here, how you found us. Only a Guardian would know of this location. Indeed, only a Guardian would know how to enter this sacred place.” He glanced at Stephen. “And this one is a mere infant among us, still unaware of all that we are. So, you will tell us, young maid, how you know of our secrets. I pray this is not an additional transgression by the man who raised you. Has he betrayed us even further?”
Emma frowned and shook her head.
“Nay, my lord, he has not. Something occurred this morning, soon after I was...resurrected.” She saw Riderch tense, his eyes narrowing. “I was visited by a light, brilliant like that of the sun. It brought with it many thousands of words that filled my head like grains of sand, overwhelming me. Since then, my mind has played host to information that was not there before. I cannot tell you why it happened. I only know that it did. Stephen and I came here of our own accord, using knowledge imparted to me by some unknown source.” She looked at Alex. “This man has committed no transgression.”
Riderch offered her a sad smile, his expression one of regret. “Oh, but he has, child. Alexander has committed the most serious transgression of all. I cannot imagine, therefore, what you hope to gain by this intrusion into our sanctuary.”
What she hoped to gain? Had the centuries addled the man's brain?
“My lord Riderch, what I hope to gain by this intrusion is mercy.” She looked over at Alex, her throat tight with emotion. “Mercy for the man who is my father.”
Riderch shook his head. “'Tis not your place to speak for Alexander, my lady.”
“Aye, it is,” Emma replied, lifting her chin. “I am born of a Guardian's line, cognisant of the Circle and the laws which govern it. The sacred scrolls state I am entitled to put forth an argument for leniency, even absolution.”
“Christ help us. First the lass enters our realm uninvited, and now she's quoting the sacred scrolls. What next?” Riderch's mouth twitched in apparent amusement. “Will you be taking up yon sword to challenge guardianship of the stone?”
“Of course not.” Emma gritted her teeth, irritated by the Guardian's mocking tone. “All I ask, my lord, is an opportunity to defend my father's actions.”
Riderch's amused expression changed to a grim smile. “I hear what you ask, child, but as I understand it, Alexander has never acknowledged himself as your rightful sire. You are but his ward, not his blood kin in the true sense.”
“But I am his. I know it. I've always known it.” Emma glanced at Alex, who was watching her, and then turned her eyes to Finn. “My lord Finn, tell them, please, who I am. Tell them I have the right to speak.”
Finn's expression did not change. “I'm no longer sure who you are, my lady.”
Emma gasped, bewildered by his cold response. “What...what do you mean? We talked about this. You told me you believed I was Alex's child.” She fingered the brooch pinned to her tunic. “Look! I found the brooch. Remember? The one I lost the night we left Yorkshire? It was at the house. Cùra...I mean...my father must have brought it back with him, perhaps tangled in his cloak. Don't you see? It proves he was on the roof at Thurston that night. And if he was at Thurston then surely my mother told the truth about –”
“Calm yourself,” Riderch said, his voice stern. “I'm displeased by this breach of our sanctuary and the apparent ease with which you achieved it. It only adds to the disturbance within our order. We are still coming to terms with what has happened. Our most sacred law has been broken by a man we trusted - a man we held in the highest esteem. And since your life is the result of his transgression, some Guardians may find your presence here to be...offensive.”
“Offensive?” Emma blinked. “I have no wish to offend anyone, my lord.”
“No doubt. Still, propriety insists I dispatch you back to mortal ground without delay.” Riderch studied her, his eyes flicking briefly to Stephen. “But my instinct, for a reason I've yet to fathom, tells me otherwise. Or perhaps it is my conscience that speaks. In any case, I see no harm in at least considering your request.”
At his words, a murmur of what sounded like protest rippled through the Guardians. Riderch raised a hand, and the voices stilled. “So, the Circle will discuss your claim and advise you of our decision; a decision you will abide by without argument. In the meantime, you'll be made comfortable. Keir, please escort the lass to one of the ante-chambers.”
Stephen took Emma's hand. “The lady does not go anywhere without me.”
“Aye, she does. You'll stay here, lad,” Riderch said, frowning at Stephen. “There are things we must ask of you. The lass won't be harmed.”
Stephen shook his head. “I think not, my lord. I must go with Emma.”
“It's alright, Stephen.” Keir stepped forward. “She's in no danger. You have my word.”
“Obey Lord Riderch, Emma. You too, lad.”
Emma flinched as Alex's voice drifted across the cavern. God save him, he sounded so weary.
“I suggest you listen to him,” said Riderch. “It would not be wise to test my patience further.”
“Perhaps it would serve us better to do as they say, little one,” Stephen murmured, bringing her hand to his lips. “Or at least, serve Alex better.”
Emma sighed, troubled by a vague sense of defeat. “Aye, perhaps.”
She followed Keir, aware of the scrutiny of the Guardians as she skirted the table. Finn regarded her with a solemn expression and then turned away. Her heart clenched, injured by his obvious snub.
Emma had come to care deeply for the gentle Irish knight. She loved his humour, admired his courage, and would be forever thankful for his chivalry. What, then, had changed? Did he blame her, somehow, for all that had happened?
She paused at his side. “You once said if I had need of you, I had only to speak your name,” she whispered. “You lied to me, Finn.”
He snapped his gaze back to her, eyes bright with anguish. “Forgive me, but I find that I... I cannot...”
Keir's hand circled her elbow. “Leave him, Emma.”
“Nay.” She tried to pull her arm free. “I must know why he –”
“Leave him.” Keir's voice rose as his grip tightened. “Come with me. This way.” He led her down one of the passageways, the darkness diluted as if lit by moonlight.
“I know the way,” she retorted without thinking, and Keir turned dark, questioning eyes upon her.
She sighed. “I spoke the truth earlier, my lord. I swear I don't know where this knowledge comes from.”
“I'm certain it will be investigated,” he said, and steered Emma into a small, dimly lit chamber. “Wait here until one of us comes to fetch you.”
“How long might that be?”
Keir shrugged. “I cannot say. A while, I should think. The Guardians, especially the elders, do not hurry their discourse. And we have much to consider.”
As do I, she thought, glancing around the sparse chamber.
“Please, Keir, tell me what ails Finn. Why does he deny me?”
Keir gave her a sad smile. “Finn's heart is clashing with his faith. For all his jesting and lighthearted banter, he's a man who holds fast to his beliefs and will not compromise his convictions. Alexander's actions have wounded him greatly. He believes you've been reborn without a God-given soul. His loyalty is torn, his heart broken.
I swear I've never seen him so disturbed.”
Shock twisted her stomach. “Finn believes me to be without a soul?”
“Nay, not without a soul, but a soul reclaimed without God's blessing. There are several in the Circle who share this belief. Because of it, they may find your presence here to be –”
“Offensive,” she murmured, remembering Riderch's words. “Do you share that belief, Keir?”
“Nay, my lady. I don't agree with what Alexander has done, but I don't believe God has condemned you because of it.”
His words calmed her a little. Hope would be lost if all the Guardians considered her as Finn did. Still, the loss of his friendship sat heavy on her heart, and she swallowed against a sob as she spoke.
“Will you speak for Alex? Help me to help him?”
“You can't ask that of me, Emma.” Keir sighed. “Please understand. Alexander knew full well what he was doing and the consequences of it. Our vows are taken very seriously.”
“I know. Forgive me. But do you believe there's at least a chance I can save him?” She watched Keir's face, needing to see a hint of hope. It did not appear.
“You have not yet been given permission to speak for him.” He traced his fingers down her cheek. “And since you claim to have knowledge of all that we are, you must already know the answer to your question.” He turned to leave, pausing in the doorway. “For what it's worth, my lady, I do believe you to be the daughter of Alexander. May God have mercy on you both.”
Emma wiped away an errant tear. Keir was right. She already knew all the answers. Only a miracle would save Alex. Exhausted, she sank onto a fur-draped ledge, dropped her head into her hands, and offered up a desperate prayer.
She lost the fight against fatigue and slipped into sleep. Even there, peace eluded her, her dreams haunted by dark images, their features unclear, their words incomprehensible. Then, out of the midst of her torment, a shadow stepped forward. It was a man, his features blurred but familiar. He spoke, his voice distant as if far away, yet comforting and also familiar.
“The past is before us but they do not yet see it.”
“Who are you?”
“You will know me as I know you. Have faith, child.”
The Cast Of A Stone Page 34