A shadow loomed over her and touched her hair. She screamed and lashed out, only to feel hands grasping her wrists.
“Nay,” she cried, struggling against whoever held her. “Let me go.”
A pair of arms gathered her up and soft kisses rained down on her face. “Easy, sweetheart. Open your eyes.”
This voice she knew too. This voice she loved. “Oh, Stephen. Thank God. I thought...I thought you were –”
“Hush. I know. You were dreaming. You've been asleep for hours.”
She tensed in his arms. “Hours? Why didn't someone wake me? Have the Guardians come to a decision? Will they let me speak?”
“I don't know yet, love.” He stroked her hair back from her face. “Keir came to fetch you earlier, saw you were asleep and thought you should rest a little longer. They've agreed to let you see Alex.”
Emma heard something in his voice. “What is it, Stephen? Is something wrong?”
“You must speak with Alex. He'll tell you more.”
A weight settled on her shoulders, one that had not been there before. It slowed her steps as she went to see the man who had chosen to sacrifice his life that she might live.
She found him pacing in a similar chamber to her own. He stopped and looked at her when she appeared in the doorway, love filling his eyes.
“A ghràidh.”
Surely, Finn was mistaken, for no God-forsaken soul could ever feel as hers did at that moment. She ran to him and threw herself into his arms.
“M'athair,” she whispered in the language of their ancestors, listening to the thud of his heart against her ear. “My most beloved father. Do you see the truth now? Do you know who I am? Please say you believe it.”
“With all my heart, child. I've been blind and foolish. Please forgive me.”
“When did you know? When, Athair?”
She felt the caress of a teardrop on her hair.
“Sit with me, daughter, here at my side. There's much to say.” He sank onto the furs and she settled herself by him, sharing in his tears as he acknowledged what she was to him.
“I shall convince the Circle to pardon you,” she said. “You've done no wrong.”
He cocked his head and smiled at her, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. “Look at you. 'Tis such a sight you are. Did you crawl backwards through the brambles to get here?”
The weight on her shoulders lifted a little, eased by Alex's teasing. She smiled back.
“I would crawl backwards through hell to save you, Athair.”
Alex took a long deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “The very first time I saw you at the abbey.”
Emma frowned. “What of it?”
“That's when I knew you were mine. You reached out and, without uttering a word, told me who I was, but in my grief, I chose to ignore it. 'Twas easier to blame your poor mother and Edward than to admit I'd made a terrible mistake. What I had done was unbearable, unthinkable, so I convinced myself you were Edward's child, that Alicia had betrayed me in the worst way. A man comes to believe a lie if he lives with it long enough. But truth never dies. It merely waits for the right moment to present itself again. Nor does the passage of time ease the pain of it, little one.”
“But Mama understands, Athair. She told me she has forgiven you.”
Alex sighed. “Do you forgive me, Emma?”
“You know I do. You must tell the Circle your story, tell them how you have borne the weight of your conscience all these years. Tell them you could not bear to lose me, as I intend to tell them I cannot bear to lose you. They'll understand, Athair. I know they will.”
She nodded at him, trying to encourage his agreement, ignoring the sadness in his eyes and the sudden twinge of pain under her ribs.
He took her hand in his. “I've already spoken with the Circle, Emma. No matter what you plan to tell them, I think you must still prepare yourself.”
“Prepare myself for what? How...when did you speak with them? Surely they haven't come to a decision. They've yet to hear me.”
“And they will hear you, but do not expect too much from them.” He ran his thumb along the back of her hand. “I knew what I was doing when I brought you back from death's grip, a ghràidh. I understand and accept the consequences of my actions. I must ask you to do the same.”
“I shall never accept them,” Emma declared. “Never.”
Where was his resolve? His fight? How could he accept defeat so easily? She sat back and studied him, noting the fatigue on his face, the peppering of stubble on his chin, the silver threads winding through his dark hair. She touched her fingers to a vein pulsing in his throat.
“What is it, Athair?” she asked. “What has driven you to surrender? Do you believe as the other Guardians do? That in bringing me back you have gone against God's will?”
“Nay,” he replied. “My conscience is heavy, but not with my decision to bring you back. I would do the same again.”
“Then what is it?”
Alex rose to his feet. “I’m haunted by a truth I refused to see. I accused an innocent man, killed him needlessly, and your mother died because of me. Who can live in peace with such a burden?”
Emma stood and faced him, a flush of anger warming her skin. “A burden? You speak to me of burdens? Then please, allow me to share mine. My mother did not die because of you. Nay. My mother sacrificed her life because of me. And now, it seems, you wish to do the same. 'Tis surely a truth which claws deeply at my own conscience.” Her voice trembled as she placed her hand on his chest, over his heart. “Please tell me my father does not wallow in self-pity. If so, then I reject him and ask that my Cùra be returned to me, the Guardian of the stone, the man who raised me. I pray that man is still here, that he'll not abandon us without a fight. If he's weary, he can lean on me and on Stephen. But he can never give up. Not while the stars still shine.”
It was as if time paused, waiting to see if Emma's words would have any effect on her father's despondent soul. After a few moments of silence, Alex took a deep breath, blinked away his tears and placed his hand over hers. “Forgive me, little one. I forgot.”
Emma frowned. “Forgot?”
“Aye.” He smiled and gestured to the rugged ceiling. “I forgot to look up.”
Chapter Thirty
The soft light in the cavern picked out small crystals embedded in the black granite surface of the table. Emma had an impression of looking down on a reflection of the night sky splashed across a moonlit lake. At the centre stood the gold cross, glowing as if aflame, casting a halo around the sword, which lay with the tip of the blade pointing toward her. The silver hilt was dormant, showing no indication of what lay within. A ruse, Emma knew, since she could feel the soft steady pulse of the sacred stone, like the heartbeat of a sleeping child.
A heavenly child, who had given Emma life after a demon had taken it away.
The Guardians sat in silence, studying her. Earlier, Stephen had insisted he be allowed to stand with her when she faced them. He had challenged their adamant refusal and confronted Keir, who stayed calm, swearing Emma would come to no harm.
“I'm not afraid, Stephen,” she assured him as she left his side.
But she was afraid. Her thudding heart said as much. The Guardians were intimidating - steeped in tradition, discipline and ancient wisdom. They had lived long, travelled through time and history united in their quest to manage and control an unearthly artifact. Because she possessed their knowledge, she understood their commitment, their sacrifice, and despite everything, applauded it.
She knew how important their vows were, how strictly they adhered to their laws. And she, better than any other, knew the reasons why. The stone carried a power that could never be allowed to fall into ignorant hands.
The Guardians were not only keepers of the stone, but also protectors of mankind.
Alex's actions had fractured the Circle's unity. They had trusted him without question and he had betrayed them. She knew their an
ger was no less profound than their sadness.
Riderch's voice startled her. “We have heard Alexander. He has not denied or tried to excuse his actions, and has confessed to acting with full and complete awareness of the consequences. As decreed in our sacred scrolls, his life is, therefore, forfeit. Unless, of course, you can offer a defence that might counter that judgement.”
Emma took a slow breath. “Nay,” she said. “I cannot.”
A murmur ran around the table and she saw Keir's eyes widen.
“I don't understand.” Riderch leaned forward. “If you have no defence to offer, child, then why are you here?”
“I'm here to ask for mercy, my lord, for in trying to defend my father's action, I would also be upholding my right to life. Since some of you believe me to be an abomination - a living blasphemy - upholding that right may further insult your beliefs.” She looked at Finn and saw him close his eyes. “So, I will not attempt to justify my existence, even though I believe my soul to be as it always was. Nor will I condone what my father did. Indeed, if my life means his death, then I do gladly offer myself in his place.”
Riderch sighed. “We expected you to say that, lass. 'Tis a noble gesture, but not one we will consider.”
Emma nodded. “As I thought. So, all I can do is ask for mercy. Please, my lords, I beg of you. Spare Alexander's life. Cast him from the Circle if you must. Deny him the stone, deny him your friendship, but don't deny him what is left of his mortal time on this earth. My father is a good man, a kind man. His heart is true, his soul pure. He has people who love him, who will mourn him for the rest of their days if you take him –”
A curse echoed off the walls as Finn rose to his feet. He stared at her for a moment, his expression tight with emotion before he turned away and strode from the chamber.
Although he had no way of knowing it, he also took much of Emma's resolve with him.
Did her presence offend him so much that he could not stand to be in the same room with her? And what of the other Guardians who were of like mind? Were her pleas falling on prejudicial ears? Even Keir, she noticed, had lowered his gaze. Despair weighed on her as she struggled to keep from dissolving into tears.
“I beg of you,” she gasped, gripping the edge of the table. “Set your opinions of me aside and think of what you do here. You can't kill my fa...Alexander. You can't. He doesn't deserve to die.”
A vibration ran through the earth, slight, but unmistakable. Emma frowned and looked at the ground, her attention pulled back to the table as the sword jumped, sliding fully an arm's length across the granite. Then it pivoted on its hilt, turning in a frantic circle, the steel flashing with reflected light from the cross. Moments later it stopped, seemingly halted by an unseen hand, the tip of the blade pointing directly at Riderch.
The hilt, glowing as red as a Blacksmith's forge, clattered against the granite as if something within strained to escape. Emma held her breath, consumed by a sudden surge of incredible energy, her emotions twisting with anger and fear.
A wave of tension, as apparent as a moving shadow, rippled through the Guardians.
“Your request for mercy will be considered,” said Riderch rising to his feet, face pale, eyes fixed on the sword. “We will let you know of our decision. Keir, see to the lass. I want her out of here. Now.”
Emma followed Keir in stunned silence, her mind a tangle of emotions. She made it as far as the passageway before the strange sensations vanished, leaving behind a dark sense of dread. Unwilling to face Alex or Stephen, she leant against the wall, dropped her head in her hands and wept.
“Don't despair, my lady,” Keir whispered, placing a hand on her shoulder. “'Tis not over yet.”
“But it is, my lord,” she answered, feeling chilled to her core. “I've failed, I know it. Did you see Finn's response? He hates me, and how many more of the Guardians feel the same? I sensed their reaction, the tension they shared. My pleas were wasted, resented even.”
“Nay, little one. As Riderch said, your pleas will be considered, and I can tell you they will be considered without bias. As for Finn's response, you misunderstood. None of the Guardians are capable of hate, Finn least of all. I told you, he's conflicted, his conscience is in turmoil. He left only because he could not bear to see your torment.” Keir gave a wry smile. “And our reaction was because of the way you connected with the stone. It was very impressive, considering it was surrounded by eleven of us. You breached our defences with apparent ease. That's why Riderch wanted you out of there. You felt its power, didn't you? Did you know what you were doing?”
Emma pressed her fingers to her temples, rubbing at a slight throb of pain. “Aye, I felt it, but I believe you're mistaken. I didn't connect with the stone. The stone connected with me.”
“At last.” Stephen went to Emma's side when she stepped through the doorway. He embraced her with the warmth of his lips and a gentle touch of his mind. She knew he sensed her fear.
“Stephen,” she whispered, finding some comfort in speaking his name.
Alex, who had been sitting on the fur-covered ledge, rose to his feet.
“Good, you're returned. Come and sit by me, little one. There are things that must be said.”
“Keir assures me the Guardians will consider my plea,” Emma told him. “But my heart is heavy, for I fear I've failed you, Athair.”
Alex smiled, sat down again, and patted the space next to him. “You haven't failed me, a ghràidh. Not in this, nor anything else. Sit, please. You too, Stephen.”
Weary beyond words, Emma flopped down and rested her head against Alex's shoulder, looping her arm through his. She leaned into his warmth, breathed his scent, and absorbed every measure of his essence, sickened by thoughts of losing him.
“Perhaps they will simply deny you the stone and send you home with us,” she said.
“Perhaps,” he murmured. “But in case they do not –”
“They must.” She kissed his cheek, fighting tears. “They must.”
“But in case they do not,” Alex repeated, slipping his arm around her, “there are things I would ask of you.”
“What things?” Stephen asked, settling himself beside Emma. “What do you want us to do?”
“First of all, lad, I want you to continue training with the Circle.” Alex leaned forward to look at Stephen. “Riderch tells me you refuse to cooperate unless they show leniency toward me. Such threats serve no purpose. I want you to reconsider, no matter the outcome of this tribunal. 'Tis a special gift you have and it must not be wasted. Keir is willing to spend time with you in my place, if necessary.”
Stephen gave him a look of disbelief. “You surely jest. If they do carry out this...this merciless punishment, they can't expect me to continue as if nothing has happened.”
Alex shook his head. “I bear the Circle no ill will, and neither should you. They abide by the ancient laws and rightly so. I expect nothing less from them, which is why my fate cannot be allowed to influence your destiny. It would do me a great honour if you took Guardianship of the stone. You should not turn away from it, young knight. It gave Emma back to you.”
Stephen sighed. “My prayer is to see the stone resting at your side once more, Alex. But I shall think on what you say.”
“Good. Remember, the Guardians do not act out of malice,” said Alex. “There's not one among them who takes pleasure in these proceedings against me.”
“Perhaps not, but a law should not be so rigid as to deny any hope of mercy,” Emma murmured, shivering at a sudden image of her father dying by the sword. Of course, she knew the ritual, knew the blade promised a swift death. But it was a bitter promise, bereft of any comfort.
“Should my life be forfeit, there's something else I would ask of you. I want you to visit my father. He must be informed of what has happened. Tell him...tell him he was right about Alicia and about Emma.” Alex pressed his lips to Emma's hair. “Tell him I'm deeply sorry for doubting him, and that I never stopped loving him.”
Stephen nodded. “Of course.”
Emma closed her eyes against a fresh burn of tears. “My beloved father,” she whispered, snuggling against his chest to listen to his heart. “Please keep faith. We're not yet defeated.”
How long had they been in this strange realm, she wondered? She couldn't be sure, for there was nothing to indicate the passing of day and night. They had snatched at sleep here and there, shared simple meals with little cheer. Time had no real meaning for the Guardians, but for Emma it was like a hidden wound, bleeding away the hours until Alex's judgement. Nothing could stem the dreadful flow.
Later, when she looked up to see Keir in the doorway, something twisted inside her and a prickle of anxiety ran across her skin. Alex rose to his feet and she reached for his hand, stepping close to his side.
“If you're afraid, child,” he murmured, lifting her fingers to his lips, “you should stay here.”
“Are you afraid?” she asked, searching his face for any sign of fear, knowing even a hint of it would push her to her knees. Her strength was at the mercy of his.
He shook his head, his expression calm. “Not at all.”
“The Circle awaits,” said Keir, his voice quiet, his gaze fixed on Alex.
Emma squeezed his hand. “I'm staying with you, Athair.”
A hush descended as they arrived in the main chamber. The light was subdued, shimmering across the cavern walls like moonlight on water. The Guardians were seated, the sword resting next to the cross as before. Keir bade Emma and Stephen wait at the edge of the shadows while Alex took his place at the foot of the table.
They wasted no time. Riderch stood, his expression impassive, although his voice faltered when he spoke.
“The Circle deliberated long and hard before arriving at its final decision. It has been, to say the least, a most...distressing process. Indeed, this is the closest we've ever come to a breakdown in our order.”
He paused, his jaw clenched. Emma heard the vibration of silver on granite as the stone reacted to his obvious battle with emotion. She looked around the table, seeking clues in the faces of the Guardians, but each had their eyes focused on the sword, their expressions unreadable. Her fingers dug into Stephen's arm as Riderch continued.
The Cast Of A Stone Page 35