Knight of Runes

by Ruth A. Casie

  He knew she didn’t find her release. “Your punishment,” he told her. “Maybe later. Now you can wait.” He spit the words out and snarled at her with dark cold eyes. “You are a diversion on this campaign, a gift to me from Bran, your master. Now, away from the Manor, I can take my rightful place, and put you in yours. How clever of the master to turn you into his tool. The great Lord Arik never suspected you would betray him.”

  Katherine gasped at his fearsome sneer. Shaken by his vehemence, her hands shook as she tried to steady herself.

  He tapped the coach for the driver to stop, laughed when he left her and got back on his horse. “Katherine, you will remember I’m the leader of this little venture, not you. If I were you, I would start to ponder what you’ll tell Bran. You didn’t exactly fulfill your end of the bargain and he has no patience for failure.” He absently rubbed the whip marks on his chest. “Think on that.” He turned to the driver. “Drive on,” he ordered the coachman, “and take your time.”

  The coach stopped at Oak Meadow. One of the men filled the water bags while the others met near the tree.

  Katherine stomped over to the men. “Did you send the note? Did you leave Leticia’s amulet for them to find? I know Rebeka was here this morning, I saw her ride out with the men as we were leaving. You did hide Leticia’s amulet here?”

  She changed her tone as Hugo approached, honeyed her voice. “You were clever to suggest it. Arik already suspects foul play in Leticia’s death. You’re certain they will come here to search?”

  Hugo grabbed and twisted her arm. “Katherine,” he said sweetly. “We’re no longer at the Manor. Do you understand? How quickly you forget.” He twisted her arm a bit more to hold her attention.

  She stared at him confused. He had always deferred to her, taken orders from her.

  “Ah, I see you’re beginning to understand. Good.” He released her arm and pushed her out of his sight.

  She stumbled and caught herself against the tree. She grabbed her arm, rubbing it to soothe the pain. Terror filled her eyes. I’ll get no help from him. He’s just as much a threat to me as Bran. I’ll show him, I’ll show them all. There’s only one path to redemption. I have to kill Arik and the rest of his family, and most of all, I have to kill Rebeka. I’ll have to kill them all.

  Rebeka’s gaze landed on Arik as he entered the library. She was already busy at work organizing her papers. Logan had brought the books from the cottage and she set the last of them on the table. Doward plucked the top sheet off the neatly stacked papers and started to read her findings. Marcus and his men, stationed on the terrace, guarded the doors. Everyone was ready, but was she?

  “Where do we start?” Logan, his hands splayed on the table, scanned the stacks of papers and books.

  “At the beginning. I’ll tell you what I know.” This was nothing more than a report to the research committee she told herself, except with so much more at stake here. She searched each face. They waited for her to give them answers, almost like her students. What if I don’t have the answers? She bit her lower lip, her brows wrinkled. We’ll face that later if we have to. She took a deep breath and began.

  “I planned to review all the documents for the past six or seven years. But I found references to the land as far back as the king’s visit in 1588.”

  Arik, who had been reading one of the papers, took a quick intake of breath and slowly raised his head staring at her. He immediately covered his alarmed expression with a nondescript yawn.

  “I’m surprised you found such old references. Were they about normal conditions or were they, hmm, were they strange?” asked Doward.

  “They mentioned unseasonable weather but no details. I also found several maps. Each defined a different area.” She pulled out a stack of maps. “Each has similar markings with dates.”

  Logan scanned some of the maps. “This one is in Letty’s hand.” He showed it to Arik. “There is something else written here too.”

  “I’m getting to that,” Rebeka continued. “I went to see some of the places where the lightning hit to observe the land and the area around the strike. I found the land hard-packed, very dense. Too dense to soak up any water—it would run off. In some cases, the plants had their energy sucked out of them, not really withered as I first thought. Doward and I observed the same phenomenon when we examined the clearing after we first met.

  “After interviewing Drago yesterday, he suggested I investigate the strike by the willow. When the patrol went out there this morning, I went with them.” Her eyes went from one to the other.

  “What else did you find?” Arik encouraged her to go on.

  “At each of the strike areas I noticed there were charred crumbled stones. The lightning must have struck them. I brought back a few samples.” She took a small package out of a basket under the table. Having gone on a number of archaeological field trips, she recognized the value of recording and conserving artifacts. While she knew the standard three-dimensional approach—descriptions, drawings and photographs—she settled for descriptions and drawings. She wrapped each stone in a cloth and included a note with its original location. She even included a drawing of the stone’s position at the site. “In order to identify which sample goes with which lightning strike I’ve used the marking on the map to correspond with the sample. Those are the strange markings Logan mentioned before.”

  Doward picked up one of the samples and the accompanying information. “Well done, Rebeka.”

  Arik sat forward in his chair, took a sample out of the basket and examined it. “Yes, good work.”

  Encouraged by their praise, she went on. “There is mention in the family records of unseasonal weather, of a poor harvest as well as sudden storms. These occurrences happened on occasion but within the last five years have increased at an alarming rate. However, the family records had nothing more than weather reports. I thought there might be more information in Leticia’s writings, more personal observations.”

  “Why?” Arik asked with a sense of hesitancy in his voice.

  Rebeka stood at the terrace door. “Jeannie told me the first day I arrived that Leticia protected the land, that she was the keeper of the land. It made sense to me she might have written more information than what I found in the family papers.”

  Arik nodded agreement and waved his hand for her to continue.

  “I found details of each lightning strike and pieces of runes and formulas. They’re different from what I found in Leticia’s journal. I began to translate…”

  Arik sat up straight. “What?” he demanded. “You can read them? That’s impossible.”

  Startled by his outburst, Rebeka stayed calm. “I’ve been able to read them since I was a child. My father taught me.” She waited for them to absorb the information and saw the questions on their faces. “My father was a scholar of Celtic mythology. He insisted I learn to read the runes. When I studied runes in the university I realized the ones he taught me were…” she searched for the right word, “…well they weren’t like any other runes. I always thought he made them up, a game. It surprised me to find some of his runes in Leticia’s journal.”

  “Let me see them,” said Arik.

  Rebeka gave him the opened journal, the page filled with runes and odd markings. “Here. Arik, do you know what these are?”

  Arik glanced at the journal for only a few short seconds.

  “These are formulas, fragments of a spell.” His face was deadly serious, his brows drawn together. He got up ready to leave.

  “Anything else?” Arik asked Rebeka.

  “No, but I’ll continue my research.” Surprised that he abruptly ended the meeting, she tried to figure out what went wrong. “This evening I’ll continue to translate the runes and formulas and see if I can make some sense of them.”

  There was so much she didn’t understand. “What type of spells?” she asked Arik.

  He ran his fingers through his hair, staring at the rock samples on the table. “It’s hard to s
ay with only fragments. While you do your research I’ll do mine” He paused. “I’ve another book for you. We’ll speak of it later.” He and Logan left the library.

  Rebeka turned to Doward. “Before you go, I must speak to you.”

  “Come. We can talk privately at the lake. I have some time before I leave for Autumn Chase.”

  They set off down the path.

  “What is troubling you?”

  “I’ve made little progress in finding the way back.”

  They came to the lake’s edge and stood in silence.

  “Doward, do you think Arik’s spells, his magic, can help me go back?” She kept her eyes on the water, her heart beating faster at the thought of going back. After all her agonizing, did she really want to leave?

  “I thought you didn’t believe in magic?” He smiled at her profile.

  “Well,” she said turning to face him. “While I intellectually don’t believe, how else did I get here? Perhaps magic has been the answer all along.”

  Arik went to the tower. He paced the small room. He could think better here, the place where he learned the runes and the formulas, and the place where he closed his mind to the magic. He could feel Letty’s presence. None of his magic, and it was a considerable amount, had saved her. Even though she had forgiven him, here in this room while she lay dying, he never forgave himself.

  He would fight with his mind and his might, not his magic. His magic was worthless. He had given it up…he remembered the ritual clearly.

  “Lord Arik, are you certain you want to do this?” The ancient priest, Emrys, stood with him. “Your grief speaks. It will pass.”

  “How can I call myself the Grand Druid if I couldn’t protect or save my sister? I pledged to protect her. It’s only because Logan is too young to take on guardianship of Letty’s daughters and run the Manor that I don’t forfeit my own life. No, I want no more of this magic. Take it from me. Let it be my final command.

  “Perhaps you didn’t choose wisely when you made me the Grand Druid. I should never have let the king talk me into being her protector. I should have gone after my betrothed. Perhaps Bran would have been a better choice for you.”

  “Nay, Bran is corrupt and will always be corrupt. Even if we didn’t choose you as Grand Druid, the Council would never choose him. Come, Lord Arik, you are distraught and cannot think clearly.”

  “No, my mind is made up.”

  With a heavy sigh, the old priest nodded. “Very well, Lord Arik.” He proceeded with the ceremony in the tower room.

  “Lord Arik, stand in the center of the pentagram.”

  Arik took his place and faced the hearth.

  “I call the four forces. Earth.” He chalked a formula at one of the pentagram points. “Fire.” He chalked another formula on another pentagram point. “Wind.” He placed a third formula on the pentagram and finally, “Water.” He completed the chalk markings. He gave Arik one last chance but Arik stood resolute in the center of the pentagram in a loincloth. He was determined to be no more than an ordinary man.

  Emrys took his place on the last point of the pentagram and began to chant. The ritual proceeded. One by one, the runes on Arik’s body began to fade but they did not fully disappear. Finally, the fire in the hearth and chalk markings on the floor flared and died. The ritual was over. The old priest covered Arik with a cloak and helped him to a chair.

  “Rest, Lord Arik, the process will take time and you will be tired.”

  “Many thanks.”

  “We will see.” The old priest gave him a gentle smile.

  Alerted by the priest’s tone, Arik threw off the cloak and rushed to the mirror. He saw the runes were only faded. “What have you done?”

  “As you have asked, Lord Arik, I have chained your powers. You cannot use them, at least not now. You know well if I remove the runes totally they will be gone forever.”

  “This is not what I told you to do,” Arik bellowed in rage.

  Emrys raised himself to his full height, his voice powerful, strong and commanding. “You cannot make this decision when Leticia’s death is so fresh and your emotions are so raw. I will not permit it, neither will the Council. But I will give you solace. I will relieve you of the burden, for now. When the time comes…” He put up his hand to stay Arik’s interruption. “If the time comes, all you need to do is call me. The Council awaits the day.

  “You must know you have the greatest potential. We hope you will once again stand among us.” Emrys turned, a drawn tired expression on his face, and solemnly passed through the mirror, leaving Arik alone in his tower room.

  Standing at the window, Arik’s gaze caught Rebeka and Doward at the lake, arguing. He let out a soft laugh. The woman always had words with someone. He thought back to another time when he was able to listen to the voices carry on the wind. Now he heard nothing.

  How prophetic Emrys’ words had been. He bent down at the hearth and lifted the old worn tapestry to reveal the pentagram etched on the stone floor. He took a soft brush from the dresser drawer and swept away the debris. The pentagram, richly colored with greens and reds, lay on a large hearthstone outlined in pure gold. He lit the fire, took out candles and chalk, and prepared the floor. He stood in front of the full mirror, took a deep breath and started the incantation.

  The mirror surface changed. The liquid quicksilver swirled and became a roiling thick vapor.

  “Lord Arik.”

  “Come, Grand Master.”

  “Are you certain this is what you want?”

  Emrys came through the mirror into the room.

  Arik stood before his mentor in britches and a loose open shirt. The faded runes tattooed on his body seemed to come alive. He could feel his body rippling, coming back to life, his muscles flexing. The intricate patterns and drawings set in frames like an Egyptian cartouche snaked from his back, over his shoulder, across his muscular chest and disappeared beneath the waistband of his britches, sitting low on his hips.

  Arik strengthened his resolve. “Aye, I am certain. I should have done this sooner, when I suspected Bran had something to do with this. The H is his sign.”

  “The Council will be glad you’ve returned to us. I’ve come to reanoint the runes you wear and welcome you back to the brotherhood. I share my strength with you so your journey will be…”

  Arik held up his hand. “You do me a great honor to reanoint the runes but this is a journey I must make alone.”

  “The process is easy, but the way to reawakening is difficult.” The pained expression on Emrys’ face spoke of the danger. He put his hand on Arik’s shoulder. “When the magic builds it may cloud your mind. You should not be alone.”

  Arik took his hand, clapped him on the back and drew his old mentor close. “I must find my own way in this.”

  Stepping back, Emrys eyed him, a final evaluation. “I will see you in the Council chamber, Lord Arik, where we will truly celebrate your return. I warn you again, the way back is not an easy one. You may not see things clearly. You must take care.” He led Arik to the center of pentagram.

  Arik shrugged off his shirt. He and his mentor began the ancient chant. The still air in the room started to churn, buffeting around the room, but it didn’t touch the two druids. Emrys took an oak leaf dipped in laurel oil and anointed the tattoos on Arik’s back and over his heart while they continued to chant. Then he stepped away and waited for the runes to come to life. Slowly the rich warm glow traveled from one rune to the next. Satisfied, Arik’s mentor fondly squeezed his protégé’s shoulder and silently stepped into the mirror, disappearing in the mist.

  Arik stood ready to complete the ritual while the wind gathered into a vortex, swirling around him. As distorted pictures passed in front of him, the glow of his runes steadily grew stronger. His concentration broke for a moment, sending him into a freefall but something held him up, his concentration returned. When there wasn’t a dark rune left, Arik spoke the final words of the chant and stepped out of the pentagram. It had
begun. Now he needed to be patient and wait for the magic to mature.

  The following evening, Arik sat in his armchair with his head back, and eyes closed. The pungent fragrance of laurel oil filled the air and the room still held a hint of the familiar glow from his tattoos now covered under his shirt. There was a knock at the door. Marcus entered.

  “Arik, are you well?” A longtime comrade and confidante of Arik’s, Marcus well knew the signs of magic.

  “Yes, Marcus. I’ll be fine. I only need time.”

  “The patrol returned. They found these near the willow they investigated yesterday with Rebeka.” Marcus carefully placed an amulet and a violet ribbon in Arik’s hand.

  “What made them look there?”

  Marcus shrugged. “They found a message in the barracks that said we missed something near the tree.”

  Arik held the emerald-and-diamond talisman. Letty’s amulet. It was tied with Rebeka’s violet ribbon. What does it mean?

  “Arik, friend, what do you think?”

  Arik’s head was filled with jumbled thoughts. Rebeka had Letty’s amulet.

  “She has betrayed me, Marcus.” He spoke solemnly. The very thought tore at him. He didn’t want to believe it, but the evidence…

  “You think Rebeka has betrayed you? You can’t be certain! I can’t believe she is a spy or traitor. There must be an explanation.”

  “Letty’s amulet has been missing since she died. We’ve long believed whoever had it was responsible for her death. Your men did well.”

  He dismissed Marcus. Alone in the tower room, Arik paced as he tried to put the pieces together. The woman had the book. Perhaps I didn’t remove it quickly enough? Maybe she unlocked the secret of the amulet and the standing stones? He tortured himself with unanswered questions. Could she cause more destruction? Why would she do such a thing? Has everything she’s said and done been a lie? For whom does she work? Bran? Does Doward play some part here? The thoughts churned and made him more frustrated. He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to concentrate, sort things out but he couldn’t see things clearly, not yet, not with the magic still gathering in him. His world spun out of control, falling to pieces around him, the ache in his chest almost unbearable.