Stone Guardian

by Maeve Greyson

  “We are watching channel seven, dear. ’Tis the only local news channel there is. We just saw that fire truck explode but we didn’t see anything resembling your...what did ye call it? Ah yes. Flying lizard. We didn’t see anything like that. And besides, no mortal has the ability to see the beast I spoke of earlier, Dr. Emma. Only a stone guardian can detect such ancient evil and I know ye canna be from any stone guardian clan. Why, yer no’ even from Scotland. Hello? Dr. Emma? Are ye feeling unwell, my dear? Perhaps yer just over-tired from your trip.”

  How was it that Moira didn’t see that fire-breathing monster? Emma blinked, squeezing both eyes tightly shut for a few seconds then slowly re-opened them. The thing was still there lobbing fireballs at the crowd. How could Moira not see it? Come to think of it, the reporter was acting pretty nonchalant about the whole ordeal raging all around him as well. Was she losing her mind? Emma clicked off the TV. She couldn’t bear watching anymore of the strange annihilation.

  “Dr. Emma? Hello? Are ye there? Are ye certain yer all right?”

  “I’m fine, Moira. I guess…maybe I’m just a little tired. Sorry to have bothered you.” Emma clicked the button and tossed the phone onto the couch. What the hell was going on here? Grabbing her keys, she headed for the door. She must be more stressed out by everything than she thought. Maybe a drive away from the water would calm her nerves and clear the hallucinations from her head.

  Chapter Ten

  His eyes popped open in immediate awareness. A tensed sense of apprehension surrounded him like armor. A chilling breeze blew across his skin, tickling his flesh with an electrifying warning. “Have ye awakened me again for a bit more of your wicked teasing or do ye mean to keep your word and release me this time?” Hesitating, almost afraid of what he’d find, Torin lifted a hand to his face, relaxing a bit when rough bristles of unshaved skin scratched against his palm. Thank the gods. His spirit and body were reconnected.

  “I’ve awakened ye because your task is finally upon ye, my lovely hard-headed fool.” Cailleach na Mointeach’s triumphant chuckle danced through the muffled thunder grumbling across the hillside.

  Torin shook the stiffness from his shoulders and stretched from the damp shadow of the stones, stepping into the glaring warmth of the blazing sunlight. Something still wasn’t right. Scowling at the ground, he turned and squinted up at the cloudless sky. “Then why do I no’ cast a shadow?”

  “Wait,” Cailleach chortled across the rising wind. “Your awakening will be completed when the balance of your destiny arrives. Patience, my precious chieftain.”

  A ripping grind shattered the stillness of the deserted hillside. Every sense alerted, every muscle tensed, Torin crouched and scanned the bleak horizon for the source. He’d never heard such a monstrous wail screeching across his land. Had the portal released some newly spawned evil he’d never battled?

  A dust cloud surrounded a strange moving object. Some sort of wagon churned up the dry, dirt-packed lane without aid of any animal. What strange sort of magic was this? Circular orbs beamed rays of light from the front of the beast, lighting the path it followed. The beacons originated from shining globes mounted atop the curving face of the body as though channeling the sun or some sort of white-hot flame. The flesh of the beast looked to be made of shields lashed together with invisible ropes. Dropping lower against the ground, Torin studied the odd-looking creation. Mac an donais! The thing glinted with the color of freshly spilled blood. How had the monster captured such a vibrant shade for its hide? His warriors would have given their finest daggers for such a dye to stain their marks upon their shields. Torin edged back into the shadows of the stones as the strange red vision rolled its way up the gentle slope toward the circle of megaliths.

  “What magic is this?” Torin muttered to the Cailleach. Clenching the roughened edge of his beloved obelisk, he shifted closer to the stone. The coolness of the block transmitted security; the chiseled surface of the great spire scrubbed his fingertips an abrasive welcome. Lifting his face to the wind, irritation burned in his chest when all that met his question was silence. “Aye, so ye’ve left me to fend for myself? Well, so be it. I am not afraid.” Sucking in a deep breath, he closed his hand around his amulet. The old sense of power surged through his veins. He was still the one. Stone guardian chieftain. As wielder of the sacred magics, he’d kept the beasts from this world for centuries. A flicker of doubt whispered in his ear. He tossed his head and clenched the necklace tighter. He didn’t fear what lay ahead. He just liked knowing what he faced.

  The growling mystery rolled to a stop within a few yards of his precious stone gateways. A cloud of dust swirled around the body of the thing, shielding its innards from view. Still clutching the edge of the center stone, Torin peered closer at the strange sight. The wind picked up, whistling through the obelisks dotting the barren hillside. The call of the stones answering the wind drowned the roaring apprehension pounding in his head.

  One side of the contraption opened as though spreading a great crimson wing and a woman emerged from the belly of the beast.

  “Almighty Brid,” Torin breathed. His hand dropped from the amulet around his neck and clenched the familiar haft of the dirk strapped to his thigh. What the hell had the Cailleach sent him?

  Her long tanned legs stretched from a revealing pair of short dark trews. The tempting expanse of skin disappearing up into the tiny bit of cloth awakened his groin, reminding him he lived and breathed. Flaming red hair framed her upturned face. Stubborn curls fought against some sort of tie. Her tresses shone more brilliant than any sunset and cascaded down her back to curl just above her narrow waist. A full bosom strained against thin white material stretched across her chest. Torin sent up a chant for a heavy rain. Surely when wet, her tunic would disappear and bless him with a clearer view. Then he noticed it and a shudder of realization shook through him as dread chased all thoughts of anything else from him. A stone guardian’s amulet, identical to his, dangled from her graceful neck.

  “Ye’ve awakened me from my penance just to meet another guardian? This is the one ye wish for me to join? The last time I stirred from this accursed sleep, ye had allowed Arach to send the guardians on their way to the next time. Ye made me believe all of my clan had passed beyond the veils.” Had she truly brought some of his clan back across? Hadn’t she said she’d shelter a select few? “What is it ye ask of me now, Cailleach? I’ve slept too long to remain chieftain and lead a clan. I do not belong in this world.”

  Nothing but unbearable silence met his question. Torin snorted, pounding his fist against the cold jagged edge of the nearest stone. “And what good is an old chieftain who can no longer guide his clan? How could I possibly protect my people in a time I know nothing about?” Torin cast a bitter glance to the sky, knowing full well the conniving Cailleach heard every word he said.

  Cailleach’s cackling laughter finally danced across the breeze yanking through his hair. “Ye remain my chieftain because I deem it so. Ye will serve me well in this time—even better than ye did in the past. ’Tis true I sent our gifted clan to the next place but I couldna bear to strip my blessed land of them all. I’ve kept a few within this world, kept them unaware of the powers they possess in order to protect them. They’ve remained scattered about the earth, hidden for just such a time as now. I need ye, Torin. Ye must awaken the lass to her gifts and the two of ye work as one. This world is rife with escaped chaos.” The wind whistled a sorrowful moan between the stone spires. “I erred, Torin. I ne’er shouldha chosen Arach for the cleansing. The demon has tormented this humanity long enough. ’Twill take the full strength and magic of two powerful stone guardians to purge the beast from this land and restore balance for the path of renewal.”

  Torin tensed as the fiery haired woman moved closer. He pressed tighter against the cool, solid security of his trusted stone obelisk. “I bested Arach once before, Cailleach. I do not need the help of another. Let me do this task alone and then send me back to my blessed oblivion.
My soul still aches with the loss of my wife and the very look of this strange woman stirs the memory of my precious Eilean.”

  “No.” Thunder clapped sharply from beyond the ridge. Flashes of distant lightning flickered across the gray swirling clouds gathering just beyond the hillside. “Arach has grown stronger while ye slept. The powers of a single guardian can no longer best the beast. Ye will do this, Torin. Ye will share your strength and knowledge with this untrained woman and ye will have no peace in your existence until ye do as I command.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Good gosh. What the crap had she been thinking? Why in the world did she ever believe she’d remember how to drive a stick shift? Emma yanked harder on the stubborn gearshift until it finally jerked down in the general direction she wanted it to go. The engine whined an angry protest while her sister’s voice teased inside her head. “If you can’t find ’em, grind ’em.”

  Emma clenched her teeth and eased up on the clutch. There’d been so little to choose from at the rental lot. It was either this rolling catastrophe or a dilapidated old truck refusing to start unless she alligator-clipped wires together under the dash.

  The car hiccupped and spit along the lane, barely allowing Emma time to glance at the scenery passing by the window. Ancient megaliths loomed in front of her windshield. She remembered them from hours of surfing on the Internet while researching the Isle of Lewis. She stole a glance at the great gray stones. The photos she’d found hadn’t done the massive obelisks justice.

  Clachan Chalanais or Tursachan Chalanais. The Callanish Stones or Callanish I as the archeologists catalogued them, stood silent and foreboding against the backdrop of the blue-white sky. The article from one of the Web sites she’d found echoed through her mind. A strange shiver of eerie recognition raised the tiny hairs on the back of her neck. Why? Struggling against a shudder of déjà vu, her foot slipped off the miniscule gas pedal and the car lurched to a halt as the engine stalled.

  “Dammit!” Emma pounded a fist atop the dashboard while the engine sputtered and coughed a last dying gurgle. Squinting through the dust cloud swirling about the car, Emma stomped the wobbling clutch all the way to the floor and yanked on the resistant gearshift. She kept her focus glued on the narrow road ahead, willing the car to continue its way up the hill. “Oh come on. You can’t quit on me now.” The engine gagged and belched out its last breath as the car limped forward a few more feet. Emma clamped her hands atop the steering wheel and bit back some of the choicer expletives she’d learned while interning at a drug rehabilitation center. She wiped the dust from the instrument panel, groaning at a glowing red maintenance light flickering beneath some unintelligible symbol.

  “Un-freakin’-believable.” Still clenching her teeth, she glared at the annoying red beacon. “Now, I know that’s not my fault.” I give up. Closing her eyes, she pressed her forehead against the steering wheel. The cracked plastic casing winding around the wheel immediately pinched her right between the eyes. Dammit! Would this day never end?

  Rubbing her stinging forehead, Emma surveyed the area. With a disgruntled shrug, she yanked the keys from the ignition. Yeah. Right. Take the keys. After all, we wouldn’t want anyone stealing this fine specimen of automotive perfection, now would we?

  Shoving the springy key ring around her wrist like a jailer’s bracelet, her gaze settled on the surrounding scenery. A tour of the stone circles of Callanish at some point in time during her stay was on her list of must-do’s. She might as well take advantage of the opportunity and check out the awaiting circle of spires. Checking the time, the date box on the watch’s face seemed to jump out at her. Gooseflesh rippled across her body, tingling like an electrical warning. June twenty-first. Summer solstice. No wonder this day from hell seemed so long. Shivering again, she eyed the stones. Hadn’t she read a legend somewhere about the summer solstice and the Callanish Stones? A nagging sense of having forgotten something very important teased at the back of her mind. Might as well check them out and have a look around. Besides, the cell phone would probably get a much better signal if she called for rescue from the top of the hill.

  With a bounce of her shoulder and an accompanying grunt, Emma convinced the sticking door to open and unfolded her long legs out of the tiny car. Thank goodness she was limber. She’d hate to think how she’d manage getting in and out of the miniature auto if she wasn’t. Lifting her face to the fleeting warmth of the disappearing sun, she scrubbed the unshakeable cloying shiver of eeriness from her arms.

  The silent sentinels balanced so precisely along the barren hillside lent a chill to the rising wind. Emma wished her timing had been better. This late in the day, the brownish-gray spires stood deserted. The last tour must have ended several hours ago.

  The regal presence of the tallest of the stones in the rock-strewn garden demanded her attention. The sun’s rays glinted off the tiny crystals embedded in its lower edge. Just a few more minutes of the day’s cycle and the glowing orb would settle at the apex of the center stone. A howling wind blustered against her back, urging her up the hard, dirt-packed path centered in the circle of stones. Emma swallowed against her hammering heart. Theories of ancient druid sacrifices from centuries ago suddenly seemed quite plausible.

  The center stone pulled her forward; a silent urging churned inside her. Emma groped for her lucky necklace, enclosing the carved medallion tight in her grasp. With a start, she realized her pendant radiated much hotter than usual as though the stone had its own source of heat. She traced her thumb across the etchings. She found little comfort in the ancient swirls she’d fingered a thousand times. Emma scowled at the glossy chunk of polished obsidian carved with intricate scripts and interlocking knots.

  “What is your problem?” She guessed it was silly speaking to the thing but she’d done it all her life. If only the strange shaped rock could whisper all its secrets. Maybe it held the answers to her problems. Swallowing hard, she peered closer at the roundish black disc.

  Thunder echoed in the distance. Emma jerked her gaze upward, searching the graying clouds rolling across the horizon. Geez, this place is spooky. Rubbing her arms again, Emma wished Laynie were here. Baby sister would lighten the mood. A pang of loneliness swept through her.

  Stumbling over a dried clump of grass sprouting in the middle of the path, Emma bit back a muttered curse and hurried faster up the route. Maybe coming to the Isle of Lewis might not have been one of her best-thought-out plans. So far, everything about her stay had been less than favorable.

  As she stood at the base of the center stone, Emma shielded her eyes and strained back to take in its impressive height. The summer sun battled through the gathering clouds and crowned the looming megalith. Imbedded crystals atop the stone sparked into a blinding beacon radiating sizzling white lasers of pulsating light. The blazing rays dizzied and swayed her, spinning her against the stone. With a dull thwack, her head slammed against a jutting edge of the center rock. Emma squinted against the sting of tears while she rubbed her throbbing temple.

  “Dammit! I’ve had just about enough bad luck for one day. How about sending me something good instead of tormenting the living crap out of me? Why don’t you send me the answer to all my problems or some kind of magic wand I can use to fix everything wrong with the world? Geez, you’d think you could grant me some sort of good wish instead of whacking me on the head.”

  “Answers are always held within. Ye must train yourself to hear them when they speak.”

  Emma screeched. Her heart pounded into her throat as she dropped into a crouch and groped for the nearest weapon she could reach. Locating a good-sized rock, she clenched the jagged shard in a trembling fist and backed against the rough-edged obelisk. Emma struggled to control her breathing as she faced the shadowed mountain of a man who’d just appeared from behind the stone. “Who the hell are you and where did you come from?”

  With slow, careful movements, the bare-chested man raised both hands level with his shoulders and spread his fin
gers, displaying empty palms. A crooked smile flashed across what part of his face she could see and his thundering voice lowered to a throaty purr. “Easy now, lass. I mean ye no harm.”

  Emma pressed back against the spire, keeping her crude weapon raised. The strength of the megalith nudged her shoulders. She vaguely noticed that for some odd reason, the touch of the stone steadied her. The jagged coolness of the rock brushing against her flesh calmed her, kept her anchored to reality. Why in the world would the feel of these stones bring her such reassurance?

  The man slightly shifted his weight from one foot to the other as though growing impatient. Forget the stones. She’d worry about that later. More importantly right now was how could this guy appear out of thin air? There wasn’t anyone here when she walked up the hill. She was sure of it. Maybe he had been hiding somewhere? The obelisks must’ve shadowed him and then he came closer when she’d been looking at the sun. That was it. She’d been dazzled by the sunlight and hadn’t seen his approach. Emma blinked hard and groaned in a deep breath. A stronger wave of unease stole across her body. She must’ve hit her head harder than she thought. Her knees trembled, threatening to buckle beneath her. Dammit. She didn’t need any more catastrophes today. Jerking her chin in his direction, Emma hefted the rock in one hand, better gauging her aim. “You didn’t answer my question.”

  He nodded his head toward the now uncomfortably warm necklace smoldering against her throat. “My name is Torin. Whether ye know this or not, ye called out to me or else ye wouldna be able to see me. Do not blame me for appearin’ out of the shadows and scarin’ the livin’ hell out of ye. Ye must take more care when ye stand at the gateway and send your requests up to the Auld Ones. Their powers are no’ to be takin’ lightly. Have ye any idea at all of the risk ye just took?”