Will nodded his head. He flipped through the pages of the large book he had been reading previously. Mikayla sat back and watched, her translation of an island legend forgotten momentarily. He chewed on a finger as he flipped pages randomly.
“Ah ha!” He exclaimed and held up a finger. “This is very important.” He slammed the heavy book from the twelfth century on the table. He pointed to the page he had been reading earlier.
“Oh, you can’t be serious. You didn’t actually read that. How do you know it is important?” Mikayla rolled her eyes.
Will gestured to the book. “Just look at it, okay!”
Mikayla slipped on her glasses and turned the book so she could see what was so important that he had found by just randomly turning pages. She looked at it briefly. As she did, her eyes widened. She looked up at him. Will grinned broadly. He gestured for her to keep reading. She pulled the book towards her and sat down heavily in the chair.
“Will, do you have any idea what this says?”
“Of course I do.” He gestured behind him to the spot where he had been sitting for the majority of the morning. “I was sitting over there for over an hour translating it.”
“Oh, I thought you were watching me.” Mikayla sounded almost crestfallen.
Will grinned. “I was doing that too!” He raised his eye brows in a practiced move. “I can do more than one thing at a time.” He winked at her.
“Oh, for heavens sake!” Mikayla pushed the book to the center of the table. “Will, this is a record of the weight and size for the Eye of the Wolf, right before King Richard’s death. It remained uncut. That proves that it was still in existence when Malachi became king.”
He gestured for her to keep reading. The legend of the Eye of the Wolf suddenly seemed closer, more real than it ever had in his entire life. He had been raised on the fairy tales and treasure hunts of the Amor children. He had searched for the Eye of the Wolf himself, as a child, but never had it seemed so real as it had in the last week. The sapphire was real. He knew it. He also knew that he had to find it, soon.
“According to this, the stone was kept within the walls of the Secluded City. King Richard, apparently, carried it with him wherever he went. Apparently, he believed very strongly in its mystical powers.” Mikayla removed her glasses and looked up at Will. “So does Malachi get rid of the stone after his father’s death to prevent something or is it stolen? What happens to the stone once Malachi becomes king? How does Malachi bring about peace after one hundred years of war and conflict?”
Will grinned as Mikayla’s voice babbled out question after question that sounded more like fairytales and treasure hunts than the serious history she preached. He closed the book and set it on top of the diary. Mikayla’s jaw dropped down, and she was speechless. He took her hand in one of his and closed her laptop with the other. “Now, come with me.” When she resisted, he tugged a little more. “You promised that if I found something important we could do something else today. I found something important. I held up my end of the bargain.” He tugged again. “Let’s go!”
“Will…” Mikayla protested even as she allowed him to tug her out the door.
Chapter 8
The tires of the navy blue Jeep roared over the dirt road as it wound up the mountain. Gravel spit out from the tires and bounced off of ancient trees that had long guarded the road, protecting it from change. The sun streamed through the canopy of palm trees, dappling the gravel road that stretched in front of the Jeep as it bounced over ruts in the road.
Mikayla stretched her arms above her head and grasped the fabric covered roll bars. Her fingers tapped in the sunlight to the oldies music that blared from the speakers of the Jeep and woke up the birds sleeping in the trees. Birds flew out of the trees with loud cries of dismay as Will accelerated just a little bit to make the next curve. Her laughter at the wind and the birds filled the air with music. She began to sing.
“Everyday, it’s a getting faster, going faster than a roller coaster…”
Will grinned. Her voice was terrible, but she was enjoying herself. Her messy bun had collapsed early in the ride up the mountain, and now, pins gone, it streamed out behind them and whipped into her face. Wild, free, lovely. Because he was enjoying himself, he joined in, blending his voice with hers on the chorus.
“Love like yours will surely come my way.”
Mikayla laughed lightly as the Jeep crested the hill and rolled to a stop in an empty plain, the top of the island, the top of the mountain that had once appeared either through plate tectonics or some ancient volcanic activity. She stood in the Jeep, grasping the bars for support and allowed the sun to beat down on her shoulders and head, clearing away any dreary thoughts or feelings, any guilt from having left her work behind. She breathed deeply and took in the clean, fresh air, air that seemed untouched by human hands. Air that cleansed the soul.
Will climbed from the Jeep with practiced ease. He had long ago given up on doors on the Jeep. It was too much work to keep putting them on and taking them off. They spent most of their time off anyway. He reached into the backseat for his camera bag and the picnic basket he had packed before leaving that morning. Something had told him early on that today he would not be eating in that dreary cell of the Hall of Records. Today was different. It had been since the sun had risen and woken him, early, early enough to know it was a good day for climbing mountains and capturing beauty on film.
He pulled the heavy bag with his camera equipment from the Jeep and looked up at Mikayla, still standing on her seat, breathing in the air, taking in the view. It was a marvelous view that deserved to be appreciated. Will held out a hand.
“C’mon, there’s an even better view from over there.” He nodded slightly in the direction of the cliff with his head. Mikayla bent under the roll bar and took his hand. She jumped from the Jeep and landed next to him in the dirt that faded off into vibrant green grass, a green that she had never seen before in her life.
“Have you ever noticed that the color of the flowers, the grass, the sky, even the water here are brighter than anywhere else in the world?” Mikayla asked as she slipped her sun glasses onto her face to cut the glare of the sun. Her eyes and head were in constant motion as she tried to take in everything. Her attention was so focused on this new place of paradise that Will had brought her to that she didn’t even notice that he still held her hand, warm and firm, in his own as he led her to the cliff that overlooked the island.
Will looked around him and tried to see the world through her eyes. He had lived most of his life on the island, other than those years spent in England attending school with other rich boys destined for greatness. Perhaps, because of this, he had forgotten the beauty of Amor, but he had never forgotten his tie to his home. Regardless of where he was in the world, Amor always called him home, like a mother to her son. And he always came when he heard the call. He had heard the call just weeks before, just as Mikayla was arriving at Amor. He hadn’t understood it, but he had heard it, and he had answered. And that was why he understood that their paths were connected somehow. She had arrived, and he had been called home by a longing to see Amor again, to experience it again.
Now, as he looked about him, through her eyes, he realized that everything did seem brighter than other parts of the world. Will had seen the entire world through a camera lens, and he knew that Amor shown brighter than any other place in the world. “I hadn’t really thought about it, but I guess you are right.” He smiled down at her as she grinned up at him. He squeezed her hand once and led her to a grouping of large stones that were in a perfect symmetric circle near the edge of the hill. He gestured for her to watch her step as they stepped over smaller stones into the shade of the larger stones.
Mikayla looked about her with the eyes of an adventurer, not a historian. The spot he had chosen for their afternoon picnic was something out a fairytale with the sun shining down, green grass laid out like a velvet carpet dotted with yellow clover flowers. The stones wer
e laid out in three circles, each a smaller circle within the larger. Each stone was perfectly carved, smooth and straight, standing tall against the elements that battered it for centuries. The air here felt different, charged with an energy and a peacefulness she didn’t understand. She realized she didn’t want to understand. She was to enjoy, revel in, but not understand.
“What is this place?” Mikayla whispered in awe, an awe she was barely aware she felt.
Will spread a blanket out on the grass in the center of the smallest circle of stones, where the shade was the best. He glanced at her briefly as she turned in the circle, taking in her surroundings. He knew what she was feeling. He felt it every time he came here himself, and he came here often. To sit. To think. To dream. To wish. To do those things his own life didn’t permit. He frowned slightly as he opened the picnic basket. He had never told anyone about this place, though he knew there were others who had discovered its mysteries, but he had never shared it with anyone he was close to. He didn’t know what had driven him to bring her here; it had just happened. It made no sense, yet inside it felt perfectly right to have her there with him, sharing in its magic with him.
“According to local legend,” Will grinned when she flashed him a sharp glance. He knew how Mikayla felt about legends and folk lore. “As I said, according to the people who have lived here for generations, this was the sight of the original Secluded City. This was where the treaty between the native Greek people and the Crusaders was signed. Of course, that treaty is now housed in the Museum of History, but they say it was once held by the head of the clans that founded this island until the rebellion that pretty much decimated the entire island’s population except for the Crusaders. Once the rebellion was quashed, the treaty went into the hands of the king.”
Will gestured to the east. “You can see some of the small fishing villages that dot the coast if you look over there.”
Mikayla stepped through the circle of stones to the edge of the cliff and looked over. A wave of dizziness whirled in her belly from the drop before she forced it down and focused on the sights. The land sloped away from her feet at a sharp angle and then leveled out into tiny houses that dotted the sea coast. Small fishing boats bobbed in the crystal blue water.
Will’s voice drifted through the air to her. “The people who live there still speak Greek. They follow the laws of Amor, but they claim to be Greek citizens. Many of them are direct descendents from the original inhabitants.”
The villages were peaceful. There were no electric or phone wires running to the houses. She could see people moving about on the streets, going about their daily business, enjoying their simple lives. A fishing boat set out to sea, ready to bring home the days’ catch or to go without for another day. It cruised east, towards the distant shore of Turkey that was just dark haze in the distance along the horizon.
“When I was a child, I used to play with some boys from those villages. We explored every inch of this island together.” Will smiled up at Mikayla as she sat down beside him on the blanket. She folded her legs beneath her and took the cup he handed her. She sipped the brown liquid and was pleased to taste iced tea with lemon and a hint of raspberry. She grinned at him.
“What happened to those boys that you used to play with?” Mikayla asked as she popped a ripe strawberry in her mouth from the Tupperware bowl open on the blanket. She had often wondered about his past, who he was, what his life had been like other than being educated in the United Kingdom. He had not talked about himself much, and though she had tried not to, she had wondered.
Will frowned as he peeled an apple with his knife. He focused his attention on his task and refused to meet her eye. His voice was soft, wistful,…sad. “I went away to school in Britain at the age of 14. When I returned, I was 22. I never saw them again. Some of them fled to Greece for a better life, and others…well, they were fishermen and died in accidents at sea.”
Will handed Mikayla a slice of apple and then popped one in his own mouth. “Life here as a child isn’t as great as it might seem. To become educated, you have to go elsewhere. To become anything other than a fisherman or a member of the tourist bureau, you have to have money. There are very few here who have the money needed to send a child away to school.” He smiled slightly at her and looked through the veil of hair that had fallen into his eyes. “I was lucky. Others are not so lucky, I guess.”
Mikayla, unconsciously, reached out a hand and brushed his hair from his face. It was silky and flowed through her fingers, caressing the toughened skin that had developed on her fingertips from years of researching and typing. It was downy, ill-fitting of the man who sat next to her and annoyed her daily. Her fingers itched to weave into the rest of his hair and let it slip through like a lover’s touch.
Will watched her through hooded eyes, watched emotions flit across her face. Emotions he couldn’t read, but emotions he knew she didn’t like feeling. It was obvious she was uncomfortable with anything other than business. It was obvious that she was going to remain closed to him. It was obvious that he wanted her and he wanted to know her, but that want was going to remain far out of reach despite her physical closeness.
Mikayla withdrew her hand and picked up the sandwich that lay on waxed paper before her. Careful to keep her attention focused on anything but him and his nearness, his smell of salt and fresh air that flooded her senses, the warmth spreading through her and tingling in her toes and fingers, Mikayla scrutinized her sandwich even though she knew it was just an ordinary club from a local deli. She took a monstrous bite and chewed hoping that food would satisfy the sudden craving that was in her stomach.
Will watched her carefully as he took his own bite of his roast beef sandwich. He wanted to know what was going on in her mind. What was she thinking? What was she feeling? Would she ever tell him those emotions that obviously caused her distress? Would she ever let the wall that separated them down enough for him to step through? Or would he forever be attempting to scale it and always sliding back down?
Will took a large swallow of iced tea and let the roast beef be washed down. “So, tell me something about life in America. I have visited New York and Los Angeles, but I have never seen the rest of the country.”
Mikayla swallowed and stared through the stones at the surf in the distance and where the sky seemed to blend into the sea. “I’ve actually never been to either of those places.” She smiled at him when he choked on his drink in astonishment. “Well, the U.S. is a big place.” She shrugged. “Michigan is beautiful, regardless of the time of year. The summer’s are hot and humid, but everything gets so green that it is hard to not love it just for being there. Plus there is fresh sweet corn all summer long, which is a definite plus. Then, there are the winters, which are cold and awful.”
Mikayla turned to Will, “But you should see it right after a good snowfall before anything has disturbed the perfect blanket of snow. It is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen in the world.”
Will tipped his head to the side and met her eyes. “It sounds like you miss it.” He didn’t say it as a question, but a statement, as if he understood her longing for home, her home, the home she hadn’t seen in years.
Mikayla nodded. “I do. I haven’t lived there in three years. I haven’t seen a real snow fall in that long. Washington gets snow, but it isn’t the same. It is never peaceful where the only sound you hear is the creaking of a branch breaking from beneath the weight of the ice. In Washington, you hear the sound of snow plows and cars pushing through the snow.” She sighed heavily and crumpled up the waxed paper into a ball. She tossed it expertly into the picnic basket. She made a faint, “Ahhhhhh” sound and waved her empty hands in the air. The sun glinted off of her watch. She picked up another strawberry and examined it before popping it into her mouth. “Everyone in Washington is in such a hurry. No one takes time to appreciate the beauty that is around them.”
“If you hate it so much, why do you live there?” Will questioned as he threw his
own waxed paper to the picnic basket and missed. It bounced off the rim of the basket and landed on the blanket. Mikayla smirked as he frowned.
“I didn’t say I hate it. I just don’t really like it.” Mikayla held up her hands. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my job. I love my students, and the freedom the university gives me, but sometimes I miss home. I miss my family.”
Will nodded. He could understand missing the one place you call home and the people who make it home, even if you don’t particularly care for those people. “So, where else have you traveled?”
Mikayla swallowed some tea. “Well, I’ve been to the United Kingdom several times, Ireland, France, Spain, Germany, Switzerland, Italy, Austria, Russia, and Thailand.”
Will frowned. “Thailand? There isn’t a whole lot of medieval history happening in Thailand.”
Mikayla grinned. “Very true. My sister and her husband lived there for a year. I went to visit them just for the fun of it.” Her grin faded into a frown as she remembered how angry Alex had become when she had told him she was traveling to Thailand to see Carrie and Bob. He had been angry because she had not invited him to accompany her, and instead, she had chosen to travel with a cousin who was also going. He had been angry because he had known even then that she had never really loved him. He had called her selfish for not thinking of him first, for thinking of his wants and needs first.
Will watched the grin fade into a frown and the crease develop between her eye brows. Her eyes were focused in the distance, some place he couldn’t visit, nor would he ever be invited. He wanted to question her, to probe her mind and find out about what drove her to these moments of silence, but he knew it wasn’t his place, just as earlier in the day it hadn’t been his place to question her about the ring that no longer rested on her finger or the man who had given it to her. He still longed to know, but he knew he had over-stepped some boundary somewhere when he asked her about the man who had been in her life.
The Eye of the Wolf Page 8