Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture

by Ruth A. Casie

  Arik spent the rest of the afternoon learning the motorbike. By the time they were done he had driven the strip dozens of times. Controlling the engine was mechanical and took some practice, as did balancing on the wheels. He was quick to learn after being tossed off twice, and very much like a horse, the throttle and brake took a gentle touch.

  He was still smiling when they returned to Autumn Chase.

  “It appears his lordship enjoyed the outing,” Cora said as they entered the salon.

  “Yes. It was outstanding. I would have believed the machine was magick if you hadn’t shown me how it worked.” George handed him a cold beer from the bar.

  “Come, dinner’s ready then George will take you back to the manor.”

  George pulled in front to the private door that led to the captain’s room. After making certain all the men were gone, Arik stood in front of the large hearth and ran his hand along the inside of the firebox until he found the mechanism. He pushed with a steady pressure while he murmured the chant.

  The click of the lock told him he was successful.

  He pushed back the large hearth stone. The dank smell of dust brushed against his face. He caught the faint odor of sulfur, the remnants of the magick that protected the entry.

  They walked along the corridor that traveled deep underground. Arik flicked his hand and one by one the torches that lined the walls sprang to life.

  Gooseflesh covered their skin as they moved farther into the tunnel before it leveled off and opened into a large cavern. They stood at the entrance. One by one the torches ignited around the room. Even after centuries of abandonment, the room was alive with unspent energy.

  Arik stood and soaked it in. George stood in awe.

  “It’s more than I imagined,” George whispered with reverence. “I can feel the energy.” He stared at Arik and sucked in his breath. The runes on Arik’s chest gave off a soft glow.

  “I’m not surprised.” Arik nodded. George followed Arik’s gaze. He threw his hands up in surprise. The runes on George’s shoulder and chest glowed through his shirt.

  Arik breathed a sigh of relief. The truth to George’s loyalty was in the man’s runes. They glowed clear and pure. As he had suspected, the man could be trusted.

  “Let’s finish here before the men come back.” Several tunnels ran off the main room. “This way to the library.”

  George followed him. Other passages branched off the main path. “These lead to the armory and gathering rooms.” They continued on until they entered a cavern filled with bookshelves that had been carved into the rock walls. In the middle of the room was an ornately carved hazelwood table with several chairs. A thick layer of dust covered everything.

  “The books we want are on the other side of the room.” Arik headed for the far corner with George a step or two behind. Arik’s heart dropped. He knew before he reached the shelf that the documents weren’t there.

  They stood in front of the empty shelf. “Is there another place where the books would’ve been stored?” George asked.

  “No.” Arik took his time and scanned the room. He couldn’t sense the magick used to lock them. “The books aren’t here.”

  “Do you think…?”

  Bran. “I don’t know who else has need of them or knows how to find them.” Would Logan move them somewhere to protect them? What better protection than here? He shook off the disappointment. “Come. We’d best leave before the major and his men return.”

  They started back through the tunnel. The torches snuffed out as they passed. They stepped through the hearth. George checked the door while Arik completed the chant and tripped the mechanism. The hearth slid into place. They stepped outside the garrison.

  “I want to make certain the wards protecting the manor are intact. I’ll do that first thing in the morning.” After the disappointment of the missing books he wanted to make certain they were protected against any unwanted guests.

  “I’ll meet you in the Great Hall at breakfast. There’s more to go over,” George said.

  Arik nodded in agreement. He retrieved a satchel from the back of George’s car. It was filled with the clothes and grooming supplies Cora had given him. He stood back as George drove off.

  He entered the captain’s room. It had little furnishings in his time, and it was not much different now—a place to put his clothes, bed, table and chair. One day, and already the things he learned and witnessed were…startling and wonderful.

  He gazed out the window. Here, in the darkness, he could imagine being home with Logan and the others. His chest eased. How many times had he looked out into the night and begged the Great Mother to show him the way?

  Now, he was with her.

  He looked over at her cottage. This would do for now.

  Chapter Ten

  Arik stood on the terrace in the early morning mist. The golden rim of the sun eased over the east hill. He removed his shirt and closed his eyes.

  “Hail and welcome. As above, so below. As within, so without. May guidance and love mark our way. And bring success for our clan today. So mote it be.” He opened his eyes. Thank you, Great Mother, for showing me the way to Rebeka, he added and shrugged back into his shirt.

  The wards that guarded the manor had been placed in a strategic pattern. He wasn’t taking any chances. If Bran was able to create an enchantment in this century he wanted to make certain the wards he created four centuries ago still held.

  He walked the manor’s perimeter and prodded the ground, pulling back the sod to unearth each of the four anchor stones. He cleansed each one until he saw his sigil and the elhaz rune—the warding sign.

  The process took him longer without help, but knowing what happened to Rebeka at Orkney made this a priority. Warded, Bran wouldn’t be able to enter the manor without a direct invitation, something he didn’t plan on extending.

  The four corners marked, he took the well-worn path to the lake, the center of the manor complex. As he came round the bend where it branched toward the lake his pace slowed.

  Elfrida’s cottage stood behind some strange chain wall. The cottage was old in his time but well cared for and cozy.

  Now it was a cold, abandoned building.

  He forced himself to keep his eyes forward, chiding himself for thinking of the past. He couldn’t tolerate any distractions. He needed to be focused and committed. It was deceptive how familiar things weren’t the same at all. He stole a last glance at Elfrida’s cottage and kept moving on. He took a breath to quell his anxiety. Logan had criticized him for his preparation.

  Faith. He wasn’t prepared at all. It was difficult seeing things he knew well gone to seed.

  When he got to the boulder by the lake he closed his eyes and, in a soft voice, chanted his request. The energy of the wards hummed their response—they were in a delicate position and in danger of collapsing.

  With his dirk in hand he drew a five-pointed star. He removed his shirt and shoes then took his place in the star’s center. Standing firmly on the soft ground, the earth molded to his bare feet.

  He breathed in the air and murmured the chant of thanksgiving as he exhaled. His arms opened wide and his eyes focused beyond the treetops as he sought the guidance and acceptance of the heavens. Feeling a familiar oneness with his surroundings, he began to chant.

  The song on his lips was soft, steady and strong.

  He visualized roots growing from the soles of his feet going deep into the earth. The drone of the chant hummed through his body and the roots deepened until they were at the very center of the earth. He lowered his arms, altered the chant, and the runes that covered his body pulsed with a soft glow. The energy he built raced through the ground to each of the ward stones and responded with the Grand Master’s request.

  Each one glowed with a soft light that brightened with each beat of his heart. When the light was at its fullest he lifted his hands and a radiant net, anchored from the ground, was revealed. It reached high into the air. Its large canopy cove
red the manor.

  He was startled when he saw the damage. The trees that surrounded the manor bore the burden of holding the magick net in place. He bowed his head and with gratitude thanked the trees for bearing the load.

  He focused on each point of the star and began the healing chant.

  One by one the broken strands of the net stretched and repaired the gaping hole.

  The trees sighed as the burden lifted and the canopy once again was firm and strong. When he was through he thanked the Great Mother, the source of all energy. He returned his energy to the ground then slipped on his shirt and shoes. He returned to each ward stone and replaced the sod. One last chant and he was finished.

  The morning was getting old and George would be there soon. He started back to the manor.

  As he gained the porch steps, the spray of gravel and the rumble of a motorcar drew his attention. He shaded his eyes from the sun as George and Cora drove through the gate and stopped by the porch. Behind the motorcar, in a small wagon, were two motorbikes.

  “Good morning.” George got out of the car. “I hope you had a good night’s sleep.” Arik trotted down the porch steps to greet George and Cora.

  “I slept well.” Last night was the first night in months he slept without worrying about where Rebeka was.

  “I had the idea we could continue your lesson today.” George motioned to the wagon.

  “Riding is one of his passions.” Cora leaned out the motorcar window. “He didn’t stop talking last night. He found a new partner.” Arik nodded and flashed George a broad smile.

  “Now would be a good time to go for a ride,” George said. Arik was hoping to continue the lesson, too.

  “See what I mean,” Cora said. “Any chance he gets. He’s like a boy with a new toy.” He didn’t know what to make of Cora. He knew they had worked hard on his and Rebeka’s behalf. It was obvious that Cora’s devotion to the family was strong and to her brother, unwavering. She had not been at Skara Brae with George and Rebeka but she shared the responsibility. Loyalty was a precious commodity in his time and, he expected, here as well.

  “Ready?” George had the motorbikes out of the wagon and was handing him his helmet. “How about a ride along the Stone River?” George asked.

  Arik nodded, his helmet already on.

  “Have a good ride. George, don’t forget you have a meeting later with the National Trust. I’ll see you back at Autumn Chase.” Cora drove off.

  He and George started their engines and rode through the gate. Hugging the motorbike with his knees, Arik reveled in the throbbing power beneath him. The deafening noise added to his exhilaration. The gears shifted smoothly as he commanded the machine and it leaped forward. It responded to his touch without hesitation, as if it was alive.

  The terrain’s natural long climb and graceful bend was as he remembered. In place of the rutted trail, he drove on a smooth black roadway. He and George followed the winding road, alongside the river, as it wove through the forest. The dabbled thoroughfare and the cool early spring weather were invigorating. He pushed the machine faster. George was right with him.

  They stopped at the bridge.

  “It was a wooden bridge the last time I was here,” Arik said. This was the place he was ambushed and up the road Bran’s men had ambushed Logan, Doward and Rebeka.

  “It’s one of the improvements that had to be made for heavier vehicles. I’d like to go on but I have to meet with the National Trust. I’ll see you back to the manor—”

  “That won’t be necessary. You go on. Autumn Chase isn’t far from here.”

  “Before I forget…” George took out papers from the leather bag that straddled the rear wheel. “Here are the papers you’ll need for Rebeka.”

  Arik nodded and stowed the papers in his side bag. They revved up their engines and pulled out. George crossed the bridge on his way to Autumn Chase. Arik rode along the river to Oak Meadow.

  He came around the bend and saw the giant oak tree in the distance. The large sentinel trees bordered the meadow and the graceful willow in the adjacent field still stood. He pulled off to the side not far from the stone signpost and waited on the bike while it idled.

  “Logan, after all my careful planning I’m here without a plan,” he said to the empty meadow. “I wish you were by my side not only for your help but to witness what I have. If all goes well, we’ll be together soon.” He gunned the motor.

  Before he returned there was one more place he wanted to see. He pulled away and left the meadow behind.

  He veered off the road and headed north along the narrow trail. Here, without the black roadway, he could imagine he was back in his time. He rode the worn path that threaded through the trees then came to the clearing where the old mill stood now long deserted.

  He pulled into the mill yard, turned off the motor and lowered the kickstand. The energy around the building was as strong as it was when he’d set the wards. The structure itself, though, was another story. The stone-and-wood building appeared lifeless, its windows boarded, its roof patched. The large waterwheel was still, set low next to the building with most of its panels broken or gone. The flume, the water’s route from the river to the wheel, was perched high on top. The large drop was made on purpose to create a good deal of water energy. He glanced at the dry flume and followed its path back to the rushing river where the sluice door was closed, diverting water passed the mill.

  He climbed the outside of the building. The uppermost floor, the sack floor, was wood and worn. It couldn’t be used. The remnant of the old sack hoist was unrecognizable. He peered between the boards on the window and saw that patches of the floor were missing. If he tried hard he could see past the stone wheel level all the way to the meal level three stories below. There was debris everywhere but the stone building was sound. He climbed down, dusted himself off and got back to his bike.

  The mill, the village, the farms were all gone. Everything he worked for, everyone he cared about, it was all gone.

  Rebeka had warned him the manor was different. He’d believed because he knew about the future he was prepared to live in it. He stood next to the mill door.

  For him it was all about hearth and home, as it had been for Rebeka. That’s what she craved when she had come to him. That’s what was missing now. He slapped his hand against the stone mill. That was how he would rebuild their relationship.

  Give her what she hungers for.

  When they first met he had been stern. She would call it difficult. It didn’t matter what she called it. That was the Arik he would be. It was the man she fell in love with. He hoped she would fall in love with him again. He returned to the motorbike, put on his helmet and started back to the manor.

  “No, George. I haven’t seen him this morning…” Rebeka closed the door to her cottage. The last thing she needed was to babysit one of George’s relatives. As soon as the notion was out she knew it wasn’t very gracious considering all George had done as a friend to help her.

  She had been snapping at everyone since yesterday. She crossed the drive and stood on the porch.

  “Well, if you think he can do it. But didn’t you want the Renaissance Festival actor to play Arik…?” She considered the oversized man the agency had sent. He was more like King Henry VIII than Lord Arik. “No, I didn’t like him much, either. Yes…I know you’re right—we do need someone to play Arik…he volunteered? And you think he can do it…well, I have my doubts he’ll fit in…I’ll let him know as soon as he gets here…The others have been studying for months. How can he catch up?” Well, if he couldn’t do the work at least she could tell George she’d tried. “Of course I’ll watch for him. I have to go or I’ll be late…Yes, I’m giving out the scripts today. I’ve got to go. The others are waiting for me.”

  The rumble of a motor and the clatter of flying gravel grabbed her attention. A large man got off a motorbike and stood staring at her through his sleek black helmet. The close-fitting clothes showed off his well-defined body,
from the T-shirt that was stretched to its limit trying to cover his chest, to the sculpted jeans that showed off his trim hips and strong legs. A sense of familiarity washed over her.

  His back to her, he took off his helmet and placed it on the brace. He retrieved papers from the bike’s side bags. When he turned to face her she couldn’t believe her eyes.

  Arik.

  He was so out of place on the motorbike, and so hot.

  “Oh, George, sorry…Yes, he just arrived.” She took the phone from her ear. “Yes, speak to you later,” she said. She didn’t bother to end the call. She put the phone in her pocket.

  Arik headed toward the porch then stopped in front of her. “Good morning, Rebeka.” She could feel the sexual magnetism that made him so self-confident and it registered with her in all the right places.

  “Did you enjoy catching up with George and Cora?” she asked, trying to keep the overwhelming attraction from her face.

  “Yes, it was very…educational.”

  “I was speaking to George. He said you volunteered to play Lord Arik. You do know this is a long-term commitment. I wouldn’t want to interfere with any obligations you have at your estate.” What was she doing? She was shamelessly fishing for information. She should be embarrassed, but she wasn’t. She wanted to know more about him.

  “Yes, he mentioned it and no, I don’t have to return right away. I’ve left things in my brother’s very capable hands.”

  Jeez, there were two of them. “Good, then let’s go into the library. There’s some paperwork you need to fill out.”

  “I reviewed it with George and Cora.” He handed her a folder.

  She reviewed the forms. “This appears to be in order. You’ve put George as your next of kin.” She gazed into his eyes. “Is there someone closer, a wife?”

  A mild panic hit her when his smile saddened. “My wife is gone.”

  “Oh, Arik, I am so sorry.” She put her hand on his arm. For a brief moment she saw a heart-stopping tenderness in his eyes. He must have loved her deeply. “I didn’t mean to pry or touch on a difficult topic. I wanted to make certain—”