“I have to go now,” Rachel said softly, drawing our surprised attention back to her. “But I’ll always be with you, I promise.” Leaning in, she kissed us each in turn on the cheek, smiling through the moisture that had gathered in her eyes again. She stood, moving next to Mom and Dad, taking their hands in hers. The group gave us one last grin in farewell, and then moved away, disappearing through the hedge and vanishing from our sight.
“Wait!” I called, not ready for them to go. “Come back!”
“It’s alright, lass,” Tristan’s great-grandfather said. “Their time with ye is finished. As hard as it is to say goodbye, it is necessary. All things must end, in life and death.”
Glaring at him, I held in the retort I wanted to fling in his direction, my heart raw and frayed from the unexpected interactions.
“I don’t mean to be rude,” Tristan replied, his tone clipped. “But ye are not my great-grandfather.”
“I suppose not, technically,” the spirit answered easily. “Not the first generation. I thought ye might be overwhelmed if I listed all the years between us when I introduced myself, though.” Shaking his head, he stepped forward, offering his hand to Tristan and pulling him up. “Allow me to do so properly, now. I am Cathal O’Rourke, the first of yer ancestors to join The Order of The Knights Templar.”
A beat of silence hung between the three of us, yet another shock stinging into my already overwhelmed mind. Finally, Tristan nodded, a long breath escaping him, and he turned, helping me to my feet as well.
“Why are ye here, and not my parents?” He stared evenly at Cathal, no judgment in his eyes. He was curious, I could tell, but I also wondered if he was secretly hurt that his own mother and father hadn’t come to meet him as mine had.
Cathal smiled gently, motioning for us to follow him. “Yer parents wanted to be here, lad. Unfortunately, the message we need to share with ye is not theirs to give, but mine alone. Perhaps, someday, ye might meet with them again. But it will not be on this day.”
Taking my hand, Tristan remained silent, leading me into the maze behind his grandfather.
“What’s the message?” Curiosity rippled through me. I was trying my best to not be overwhelmed by all the visitations and things we were learning. Most of all, I attempted to keep the feeling of Rachel with me. Everything she had said had done much to heal my heart and aching body. I didn’t want to ever lose that feeling.
“My grandson will have told ye I partook in the Holy Crusades, aye?” Cathal spoke as he followed the hedges, twisting and turning through the maze with ease.
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t the only thing I did for The Order.”
“What else was there?” Tristan interjected. “I didn’t think the Templars did much more than fight and gather treasure in those times.”
“That is true. It was an early time in The Order, full of learning on all sides and discoveries that would make ye wide eyed and speechless if ye knew the extent of them. Still, there were many secrets we kept, even from others in our ranks. I was the guardian of one such secret.”
He paused, having come to the exit of the maze, a wide, open pathway resting before us. It boasted views of the jungle and river, as well as the almost completely set sun. Pinks and oranges filled the sky, streaking it like the Arizona desert at sunset. The picture was breathtaking and awe inspiring, causing us all to simply stare, taking it all in.
“This place was another one of the secrets we kept. Discovered by an unsuspecting knight, simply trying to do his duty. The shamans traded the knowledge of this place with him in exchange for protection from extinction. When it came time to hide our treasures here, they welcomed us with open arms.”
Clearing his throat, he turned to us, grinning. “Of course, I never knew about it while I was alive. I was dead nearly two hundred years before anyone other than the Grand Master knew of this place’s existence. Still, I stood here, in this very spot, when the treasure first arrived. I wasn’t the only spirit in attendance, naturally. I don’t think I’d ever seen such a sight in my entire life. And I’d been to Avalon many times during my time among the living.”
Stepping away, he moved toward the right, heading for a set of stairs that led up to the next level of the city. Tristan and I stared after him, his words slowly absorbing into us.
“Avalon?” Tristan said slowly. “Ye mean . . . the home of the old religion? The Isle of Apples? I thought that place was only a story, told to wee ones in their beds.”
Cathal peered back at us, a sparkle in his eyes. “Oh, it is much more than that, lad.” He climbed the stairs, not checking to see if we were following, and disappeared at the ledge at the top.
“Avalon?” I murmured to Tristan. “Like . . . Merlin and King Arthur?”
“Aye, Sam. That’s the one.” Tightening his grip on my hand, he hurried us after his kinsmen, practically dashing up the steps.
“That was the secret ye kept for The Order? The location of Avalon?” Stopping beside the man, Tristan, stared at him hard, waiting for the answer.
“It was,” Cathal said easily. “A secret our family kept for The Order, more like. Over time, due to rivalries and usurping of power, we were removed from the knowledge of the place. There hasn’t been an O’Rourke in Avalon since my four times great-grandson. He was the first man to transport treasure there, on the ship that fled Paris during the scourge of the Black Knights in the thirteen hundreds.”
“Why are you telling us this now?” I asked, breaking into the conversation. “If Avalon is another treasure haven for The Order, that means there are already men who protect it and keep its location a secret. Are you asking Tristan to insist he be added to that detail?”
“The man is a captain without a ship or port to call home, is he not?” Cathal shook his finger at me, biting his lip. “But, no. That is not what I’m asking.” Taking a deep breath, he turned to Tristan again, his eyes steely this time.
“Avalon has fallen.”
The statement floated there for a second, bold and dangerous, but somehow confusing as well. It sounded like the title of an action movie, exciting and enticing, but I couldn’t help the sick twist in my stomach as he continued.
“Black Knights protect the borders now, and the treasures she keeps—the relics of our people and our past—have been compromised. Ye must save her, Tristan. Ye must rescue her from the clutches of those who would use her powers for harm and destruction. The Isle of Apples is calling out for her people to protect her and ye are the only one left who can answer the call. Bring O’Rourke back to her shores and show the world what it means to have Merlin’s favor and The Lady of The Lake’s power. Fill the shoes that the great Arthur of Camelot once did and bring peace back to yer homeland.”
Overwhelmed, Tristan stared at him, floundering for words. After a few beats, he managed to get out one word. “Homeland?”
“Aye, lad. She is in Éire. Avalon rests on the shores of Ireland, the land of yer people and the home of yer blood.”
Glancing at me, as if asking for help, Tristan seemed to be falling into a pit of sorts, everything he’d learned today squishing him into a tiny space of panic and doubt. I was sure the expression I wore looked much like his. I wasn’t ready for Tristan to be called away on some special mission. We weren’t even done with our current assignment!
“Why Tristan?” I asked, watching Cathal as I voiced my inner confusion. “Why not any of the other Irishmen in The Order? Is it just because he’s an O’Rourke? Or . . .” The color drained from my face and I met Tristan’s gaze once more. “The Black Knights. Thomas Randall?” I whispered. “He’s taken over Avalon?”
“No.” Cathal’s response was strong and abrupt. “This was not the work of Thomas Randall. Avalon fell to the deceiver that heads yer Order now. He sent his men to Avalon and ordered them to crumble her. The island has put up quite the fight as of yet, but she still needs yer help.” His voice filled with passion as he continued, filling me with the impressio
n that he truly believed everything he was saying. “Tristan is the only one who can answer her call because he is of my blood. He is young and strong, a quick thinker, and capable of following in my footsteps. He will become the liaison of the Isle and her people to the souls of yer realm. Avalon was never meant to be guarded by anyone other than an O’Rourke. His family duty is calling him home and demanding he take up the mantle.”
Tristan snorted, shaking his head. “How can ye expect me to do all of that when I have never even set foot on Érie’s shore? My kinsmen fled Ireland in fear, having lost everything their ancestors worked to build for them.” Tristan dropped my hand, stepping away some and stared at the man with wide eyes. “And now ye ask me to return, to take up a calling I know nothing about? I do not even know where Avalon is, let alone how to enter and save her. Do ye intend to tell me all now and hope that I will recall when the time comes? I am not a man that can decide his own fate. I am not a man that can abandon my duty to fulfill the desires of an old spirit.”
“Ye are the only one who can answer the call,” Cathal said again, not bothered in the slightest by Tristan’s refusal. “When ye have left this place and the path ye are on now ends, ye will remember yer family duty. Ye will go to the Isle of Apples. If not out of duty to yer blood, then out of duty to The Order. Black Knights cannot exist and our treasures remain safe. Ye will protect what is The Order’s with yer life, like any good Knight would.”
Glancing at the sky, he sighed. “My time with ye is at its end. I know I have given ye much to consider and feel conflicted over. It was not my intention to rush it all upon ye, but I had no other choice. I hope ye will forgive me one day for my abrupt and callous nature.”
He grabbed Tristan’s shoulder, and smiled once more. “Our family feels much honor because of ye and yer feats of bravery. Ye have done our name and legacy well, lad. We will be with ye always. For now, I must leave ye with the shamans, for they have more to share with ye.”
He dipped his head in respect, releasing him, and then turned toward the stairs. “Take good care of him, lass.”
Striding away from us, he disappeared into the night, the glint of his armor fading in the dim light. Silence spread between Tristan and I as we watched him go, a strange sense of confusion and fear in the air. While Rachel’s visit had healed my heart in so many ways, Cathal’s had only made me scared for the future.
“He has always been a straightforward type of man,” a voice said from behind us. “But interesting, to say the least.”
Turning around, I laid eyes on a man I’d never seen before. His height alone made him intimidating, but there was so much more to him that made me feel he wasn’t someone I wanted to mess with. Bright eyes peered at me, his black as night skin covered with a myriad of scars and tattoos, the patterns raised up and webbing across him like some type of disease—but having a strange beauty about them, too. Many of the markings were intricate symbols and pictures, converting him into a walking piece of art. He wore an open robe, a sort of loincloth wrapped around his waist and Roman style sandals on his feet. In his hand, a large staff rested, the top of it reaching above his bald head. An aura shone brightly around him, like stars in the night sky. If I’d not known better, I would have said he was a giant, so great was his presence.
“I am Pathos,” he continued, the deep, rich timber of his voice seeming to vibrate in my chest. “Guardian of this great city and leader of her people.” Bowing his head, he touched his fingers to his forehead.
I’d seen the action several times while passing through the city and recognized it as a showing of respect. Hastily, I repeated the action, Tristan following suit beside me.
“It is an honor to meet ye,” he mumbled, glancing back toward the stairs.
“The honor is mine.” Pathos cleared his throat, gaining our attention once more. “I know you have met many spirits this night and have learned much. It is my finding that many of the souls who visit this place become somewhat taken aback by the things they learn here. I must apologize, for what you have heard already is enough to cause you to pause, but there is still more you have to discover.”
“What else could there be?” I asked, half chuckling. “I feel as if everything I could’ve been told has already been said, and yet we’re to meet at the fountain to hear more.”
“This is true.” Pathos laughed, a sympathetic expression on his handsome face. “There is a spirit who wishes to address your crewmates and you at the fountain. I will take you there now; however, you should know, I have one last message for you, Samantha. A word of warning, if you will.”
His features darkened, and the expression made me feel cold, like ice water was trickling down my spine, causing a feeling of trepidation.
“Warning?” I said softly.
“I sense a blackened cloud in you. I felt it the moment you and your husband entered this realm. Tell me, how long have you been dreaming of Thomas Randall?”
Tristan stiffened beside me, his hand finding my own. “She’s had the nightmares for some time now,” he replied for me, hesitant in his answer. “I thought it was only normal, given what she’d been through.”
Pathos waved, motioning for us to follow, and started down the pathway, moving slowly so we could catch up.
“It is normal, yes. But what Sam has been experiencing as of late is not. Being kidnapped and beaten is traumatic. Reliving those memories in your sleep is an unfortunate addition to that suffering. You’ve been experiencing things that never happened to you though, isn’t that right, Samantha?”
Swallowing hard, I nodded.
“When Thomas Randall lost his hand, he absorbed the blood of the Apache gods and saved himself, is this not correct?”
“Yes.” Suddenly I wondered how the shamans knew so much about everything we’d been through. Had the spirits told them? Were they all knowing? Before I could ask him, though, he continued speaking, recapturing my attention.
“Do you know what he did with the blood of the Norse gods and the ichor he stole from Oak Isle?”
Stopping cold, I stared at him, blinking. He seemed to take this as an admittance of my unknowing, and frowned.
“He drank them. Both of them. In the months since you’ve seen Randall, he has taken the blood of three gods into his system. Do you have any idea what consequences he has been facing because of it?”
“I thought he had to have the Holy Grail to drink any of the blood,” Tristan interrupted, his grip tightening more on my hand.
“He needs the Grail to drink the blood of Christ,” Pathos corrected. “It is the only vessel that ever held the essence of the Christian god.”
“He’s as powerful as a god, then?” I asked fearfully, not wanting to hear the answer. It didn’t matter to me if Randall had needed the Grail or not. All that mattered was what state he was in now and how difficult it would be to confront him.
Pathos regarded me evenly. “No, he is not.”
A breath of relief came from both Tristan and me, the beating of my heart slowing considerably.
“Come. We are not far from the head of the Fountain. All will be revealed there.” Continuing on, Pathos led us through a small garden and another set of stairs. He spoke softly with several shamans and spirits as we passed by, leaving Tristan and me in the dark as to what else he had to say about Thomas. After a few moments, we found ourselves at the top of the city, staring at the magnificent Fountain of Youth.
It was more like a large lake, the waters of the fountain spilling over in several places, creating the waterfalls that cascaded through the city. In the middle of the pool, a steady fountain sprayed spectacularly into the air before crashing into the pond, constantly moving like a living thing, swirling as it kept the area filled. Several stone walls had been erected to keep any flooding mishaps at bay. It was like an image from a storybook, with sparkles hanging in the air and the final beams of light from the sun disappearing in the distance.
“It’s beautiful,” I said in awe, my ne
rves temporarily forgotten.
“It is,” Pathos agreed. “Then again, I suppose all gods are probably as beautiful as this.”
“Gods?” Tristan asked, taken aback. “This is your god?”
Laughing, Pathos shook his head. “It is the essence of our god. I suppose you would say this is as close to blood as they ever came to having. Drinking from this Fountain will heal all wounds and restore life to those who are dying. Our god is one of mercy and forgiveness. She is one with the earth. Anyone who comes to this place, seeking her help, will receive gifts beyond what they can comprehend.”
“That’s why you hid it here,” I added. “To protect her.”
His face darkened some and he nodded. “Yes. Our foe—I suppose you would call him a leviathan. He was the only enemy we were never able to defeat. After several years of his attacks, I made the decision to ask the Goddess to take us away.”
“And she swallowed you into the sea,” Tristan said quietly.
“She transcended us,” Pathos corrected. “If one was to search in the right spot, they would probably find the sunken remains of our city. There would be no trace of the people who lived there, though, as we all continue to live here. In her great mercy, the Goddess bade us drink from her waters, so we would survive the occasion. We were transported to this realm, much as you were when you first arrived. We have been here ever since, in the service of the power that saved us.”
“Do you miss the living world?” Curious, I watched as the corners of his mouth turned heavenward, clear eyes meeting my own.
“Would you miss a world full of hatred and death? No. I find myself very content here, where life never ends and I never want for anything.”
Motioning to the pool, he silently urged us forward, until we were standing at the edge of the water. “Thomas Randall,” he said again, the happy tone of his voice diminishing.
Peering into the depths, I sucked in a breath as a picture slowly appeared. It was dark at first, and blurry, but the longer I watched the clearer the image became, until there was no doubt in my mind what I was seeing.
Hidden Away (The Swept Away Saga, Book Three) Page 31