Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture

by Ruth A. Casie

  “Come closer so you can all hear me,” Angus said. He waited as they all settled. “There are three components to the spiritual way of the ancient druids: being creative in their lives, communing deeply with nature and gaining access to the source of wisdom…”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Annihilation. Arik had mentioned Angus’s words to George but it hadn’t been the time or place for a discussion. If Arik were home he’d be organizing his defenses, seeing to his people and training his men with Marcus and Logan at his side.

  He evaluated the makeshift quintain for lance practices and pell with its posts for swords practice that stood idle in the fields—the practice area overgrown in some places, wet bogs in others. He glanced at the buttes in the distance where a lone archery target stood abandoned. They weren’t useable.

  Disheartened, he started back to the village. He let his mind wander and could hear Marcus calling orders and putting the men through their paces. His battle-tested men would fight for their homes.

  How he would like—

  A jolt threw him out of his musing and he glanced about. Finding himself in the center of the village, he wheeled around and evaluated every building.

  He considered the major and his men all hardworking. The files he read showed most of the men were displaced veterans, far from home. It was admirable that Rebeka had barracked them but— He rubbed the back of his neck. They were estranged from their families.

  He pinched his lower lip while ideas fired off. But first things first—he needed to understand the condition of things, then he could make his plans.

  All of these men were battle tested—like his men. The more he considered the idea the more he knew it was the right thing to do—not only for Fayne Manor but for these men.

  He pulled out his cell phone. “George? Can you meet me at the gatehouse? Yes…I’m on my way there now.” He put away his phone and hurried on.

  “Major, assemble the men.”

  “Hear, hear, men. Lord Arik wants to talk to us. Fall in.” He waited while the men gathered.

  It took longer than Arik wanted but that meant there was room for improvement. “You’ve done a good job getting the fields ready and the wheat planted.” George stepped into the room and stood by the door. “The work on the mill is going well, too, faster than we planned.”

  “Yes, sir,” Bill said. “We were able to find ready-made parts. It cut the cost and time.”

  “Good. We have another project.” He plowed ahead eager to judge their reaction. “We’re going to restore the village.”

  “Why, is someone moving in?” one of the men asked. A rumble of laughter rolled around the room.

  “I’m not certain if they’ll be holding a lottery or assigning houses as people make requests. It depends on how many want free housing.” The men looked at one another for an answer.

  “Why would they do that?” A loud buzz erupted in the room.

  “Do what, move people into the village?” He waited.

  “That, but why give it away free?” He saw the interest on the men’s faces. The buzz in the room was a low roar.

  “The village needs people to make it appear real—women doing laundry, children at games. We’ll need families. Those who are already living here would likely be chosen.”

  The low roar settled to whispers.

  “Our families? We can bring our families?” Frank asked. When they all understood what he was offering the room was quiet.

  “As long as they’re willing to be part of the reenactment, I don’t see why not. The pay will be worked out.” These men who had fought so hard deserved more. That would be reason enough. He wasn’t fooling himself. He was well aware this also suited his plan. He needed to protect Rebeka and the manor. Men fighting for their homes would fight longer and harder. They were both winners, which was the best solution of all.

  “Where can I sign on? My wife and baby are alone. I’d feel much better having them here with me,” called out one of the soldiers. The murmur of voices started again.

  Arik nodded. “Is there anyone else interested?”

  Every man raised his hand.

  “Very well. I’ll discuss it with Dr. Tyler. Restoring the village will take a great deal of effort. Stonework is difficult. To prepare, we’ll begin training in the morning. The advantage is we’ll train like warriors and we’ll give the guests a good show.”

  “We’ve all been through training. We know what to expect.” The soldiers all nodded their agreement.

  He scrutinized the men—they wouldn’t disappoint him.

  “Frank, we’ll need your expert opinion again and that student who worked with you. I want all the village houses evaluated.” Frank nodded. “Good. We’ll meet at the village in the morning. The rest of you will start removing the debris out of the houses. I’ll see you in the morning. Major, you can dismiss the men.”

  The men filtered out past George. He joined Arik in the front room.

  “I was able to sell your coins to a collector. He was very excited.” He was certain the man was pleased. The coin was almost solid gold.

  “We may be able to excite him even more,” Arik said. He stared at the men from the gatehouse window.

  “I was listening.”

  “We’re going to restore the village.” His tone was matter-of-fact. His decision was closed to discussion.

  “Alright, why?” When they had visited the Stelton estate, only select buildings had been renovated and open to visitors. He would have the entire village reinhabited. Perhaps he could even get the tenant farms working once again. He brushed that notion aside. First things first.

  “The village is empty and vacant. It creates an ominous mood. Besides—” he spun on his heel and faced George, “—do you believe Angus’s prediction?” He held George’s stare and let out a heavy sigh. The resignation in George’s eyes was answer enough.

  “Yes,” George said quietly. “Unfortunately, I do.”

  “The way to build an army is to give the men something to fight for. Something that is important to them.” The rightness of the project grew stronger. Nothing was going to persuade him against it. “These are all good men. They need something to bind them together as a team, to believe in and to protect. It’s not so different than my time.”

  “It’s a very good solution. I wish I had thought of it myself. I’ll work with you on the supplies you need. I have some sources eager to help veterans.” He started to leave. “Have you told Rebeka?”

  “No, not yet. I think she’ll see the benefit of the project.” His mind was already thinking which buildings to renovate first. The bakery. Yes, that one would be their top priority.

  “Training the men for war?” He hoped this preparation would prove unnecessary. That it would turn out to be building houses for the men and their families.

  “No, giving her students another eco-socio research project.”

  Rebeka hurried along. By the time she turned onto the path to the lake she was at a trot. She jogged in place, removed her sweatshirt, turned on her MP3 player and set out on the trail. Each footfall marked the beat of the music. Her body relaxed. With each deep breath she cleared her mind. Her heart rate ratcheted up with renewed energy and strength. She reached the halfway point and was in her stride. She rounded the lake to the last strains of the newest pop artist singing one of her signature songs. She loved the way the songstress fused elements of pop, blues, disco and gospel.

  Her day was planned. The mill project was going well. The latest report showed they had more visitors there than they’d predicted. Joan had put together a solid presentation showing how the mill worked and the engineers spoke about how they were renovating. They even devised a few projects for the guests.

  The idea of restoring the village and bringing in the wives and children would keep families together. She’d have to figure out a way to fund the project. George and Cora could help there. Besides approaching some of the veteran organizations, The Retreat had an i
mpressive clientele list. Many were former military and politicians. That would be a good place to start.

  She came to the back part of the lake and the music changed to one of her favorite chants. If she wasn’t breathing so heavily she would have chanted along to the soothing sound of the cadence. Rather than turn off the trail and complete her usual circuit, she decided to go on. She could use another half mile and followed the path to Elfrida’s cottage.

  She sprinted off the trail toward the cottage’s back door. Breathing hard, she stopped at the chain-link fence and examined the gaping hole. The flash of someone at the window caught her attention. “How many times have I told everyone this cottage is off-limits?”

  Armed with nothing but her anger, she wiggled through the hole and marched up the overgrown path. Her hand ran over the holes in the doorjamb where the boards had been pried loose. The rear door stood ajar.

  Maybe renovating the village houses was a good idea. Giving the staff a place of their own instead of a bed in the gatehouse may keep them out of places they didn’t belong. “Who’s in here?” She ground out the words between her teeth.

  From the rear door she walked along the small hallway. Standing in the narrow corridor, her heart pounded from more than her run. Wait until I find them. They’ll wish they’d never stepped foot inside this cottage. As she listened for intruders she was overcome by dizziness and flinched as the walls closed in on her. Someone was behind her. She needed to get out of the hall. She rushed into the middle of the large room at the end of the hall.

  Empty.

  The only thing there was dust and debris. She peered out the window through the tacked-up boards at the large oak tree in the front yard.

  Strong arms encircled her and turned her away from the view. She stared into Arik’s concerned eyes. His smell, all spicy and so unbearably male, tugged at her. He drew her close.

  His even and steady breathing gave her strength. He didn’t say a word. She didn’t question the warmth of his body, the hardness of his muscles and the gentleness of his touch, which was all strangely familiar. Rather, she absorbed it. She snuggled close, glad for the silence and safety.

  She drew back, took his face in her hands and searched it carefully. It was strong, filled with character and, most of all, tender. Her heart leaped into her throat. “Arik.” She noted the desperation in her voice. She kissed his lips hard and pulled away. “Arik,” she said less urgently. She remembered thinking he was a knight when she first saw him. That he vanquished her terror and she was safe in his arms. She was right. As outlandish as the idea was, she knew it was right.

  He held her. His shaking hand caressed the back of her head. She didn’t struggle.

  He drew her close and she welcomed his warmth, his touch, his kiss.

  “Beka,” he murmured in her ear.

  “I…”

  “Shhh.” He laid his index finger across her lips. Her head fit perfectly between the hollow of his shoulder and his neck.

  Recovered from her fright, she slid out of his arms. “What are you doing here?” Her voice held a measure of surprise.

  He gave her a questioning look. “I came to find you.”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  She got a brief peek as disappointment crossed his face before he took control of his expression. She was certain there was more he wanted to say. But their connection was too new for her to ask questions. “I saw you crawl through the metal fence and knew—”

  “I’d need help. When I came to the cottage the fence was broken. I assumed there were vandals in here…” Her brows wrinkled in deep concentration.

  “Did you see anyone on the path while you ran?” he asked.

  “I don’t think so. Why?” Concern was in her voice.

  “I saw two people coming from this direction. Marle and John.” He stared at the door. “Stay here. I’ll search the other rooms.”

  Rebeka stood with her arms wrapped around herself. She already missed his warmth and comfort.

  He returned. “I found nothing in the other rooms except an empty bottle of wine and this.” He dangled a bra from his index finger.

  She shook her head and let out a soft laugh, then removed the pink lace confection from his hand. “It’s expensive. She’ll want it back. I’ll talk to her about finding a more appropriate place for a rendezvous.”

  “I’ll talk to him. I’d like to know if he saw anything or if he only had eyes for his lady.”

  She smiled at his stern face but she saw the laughter in his eyes. “I better get back,” she said halfheartedly as she stood close to him.

  How could she not have known she loved him?

  Chapter Sixteen

  He was seated at the table in the tower room with his tablet, a counterpoint to the ancient runes that clung to the walls.

  His eyes tired, he pushed himself back and took a deep breath when the smell of smoky pine drifted through the window. He turned and looked out. The sky glowed orange in the distance—in the direction of the mill. He bolted out of his chair, knocking it over. He leaned over the window’s ledge.

  “Fire,” he bellowed.

  He ran from the tower and through the library terrace doors, the quickest route to the gatehouse and the barn. He got to the garrison where Marle and John were rousing the men. “Fire at the mill. Move,” John shouted.

  Frank was already backing out his Spitfire. “Sir,” he called to him. “Get in.”

  They raced up the rise and through the drive. Continuing at a hell-bent speed, they crossed the river. The mill wasn’t far ahead. Frank pulled into the clearing. Arik was out of the car before it came to a stop. The roof and upper level were fully ablaze.

  “Frank, go to the river and open the sluice gate to the flume. I’ll pull the flume to the open window on the top floor. We should be able to save the gears and other two floors.” Frank grabbed a tire iron from the car and sprinted off. He had to move fast before the fire spread to the gear room.

  Arik tore off his jacket and started climbing the outside of the building to the flume. It was scorched and still warm. Someone had moved the heavy chute but not quite enough. He tugged it inch by painstaking inch until he got it close enough to the building so most of the water would go through the window. The dousing would slow the advancing fire and protect the mechanism below.

  He looked inside. Half the floor had been removed. From where he stood, it was a sheer three-floor drop to the lowest level of the mill. He didn’t have to bother opening the flume gates on his side. The water would overflow it quickly.

  A low moan echoed in the empty space.

  “Who’s there?” He peered into the darkness but knew he wouldn’t be able to see anything. Did an animal get trapped inside?

  Silence.

  He sensed more than heard the water rushing down the flume. Another moan.

  No. The sound was distinctly human.

  With the force of the running water it would be a matter of minutes before the gates gave way. The bottom of the mill would flood quickly.

  He climbed down the wall into the wheel trough and squeezed himself past the axle shaft. He jumped over the pit where the vertical gear would be placed. Right now it was in the gear room. A dark, dank, tight space, he ignored the pungent odor that permeated the air and found the door that led to the inside of the mill. He tried to open it but it wouldn’t budge. If he was to survive he’d have to go back the way he came, through the wheel trough. Not an easy feat with tons of water pouring on him and the waterwheel threatening to turn.

  Another loud moan led him back to the pit. Someone was lying at the bottom. He lowered himself into it and turned the body over.

  Bill looked at him.

  “Can you move?” How did the man get here? He didn’t have time for questions now. He had to get them both out.

  “I…I can’t feel my hands,” Bill moaned.

  There was a loud rumbling. Arik was certain the water was hitting the locked sluice gates. Sprays bega
n to pelt them from above. It was a matter of time before the sluice gate broke and the wheel would start.

  If they stayed where they were the pit would flood—he and Bill would have no way out. Even a druid Grand Master wouldn’t be able to save them.

  The waterwheel lurched. There was no time. He hoisted Bill on his shoulder. The water spray turned into a cascade. The wheel strained and the axle vibrated erratically.

  He concentrated and murmured the words of protection. The shaking axle eased. He climbed out of the pit and threw his leg through the opening into the trough. Carefully, he began to squeeze through. Bill moaned, breaking his concentration. He refocused but not quickly enough. The axle wobbled.

  He pushed through as the wheel brake splintered and the waterwheel began to turn.

  Rebeka jumped up. She sniffed the air and knew—fire. She grabbed her pouch and staff and raced to the gatehouse as the last soldier was getting ready to ride.

  “Where’s the fire?”

  “The mill. We’re following Lord Arik and Frank.” His car filled with people, he left.

  Rebeka was already on her cell phone. “There’s a fire at the mill.” She spoke to George as she rushed on. “Arik and the men have already gone there. I’m going now. Meet us there.” She ended the call and headed to the garage. Her car was blocked in by a student’s.

  She didn’t stop to think.

  A moment later she had on a helmet and the Triumph wound up. She knew Arik would be in the thick of things and she needed to get to him. She raced across the fields and jumped the bogs instead of taking the longer route along the road. She was almost there when she came to the stone wall. It was too high to jump. Anxious, she rode alongside the wall for some time then stopped. It was taking her in the wrong direction.

  She turned the Triumph and raced a good hundred yards perpendicular down a small depression. She took a wide turn and fishtailed the back of the motorbike around.

  She revved the engine and headed for the wall at full speed. The bike caught the rise and sent her airborne.