Triskelion

by Avril Borthiry

  He studied her for a moment, his expression impassive. “Like yourself,” he said at last, “I was born to a Welsh mother and English father, except my parents did not want...” He glanced away for a moment as if searching for his words. “My parents gave me to an abbey, where I studied to become a servant of the Christian God. I was ordained in my sixteenth year.”

  Kate gasped. “You’re a priest?”

  “Was.” He rose to his feet like a man seeking an audience, his fingers stroking the silver medallion. “I have since renounced my faith.”

  “But why? What would make you do such a thing?”

  A malevolent light flickered in his eyes and he took a single step forward. Kate tensed and stopped herself from taking a contrary step back. He shook his head and gave her an odd smile.

  “Come here, Katherine.”

  Something in his tone compelled her. She approached and stared up into eyes that now burned with pain. His voice dropped to little more than a whisper.

  “Do you know what happens to children who are thought to be evil? Children who, by no fault of their own, are different from others? Children whose gifts cannot possibly be from a merciful God, but rather the curse of Satan?” He placed a hand against her cheek, his eyes softening. “I cannot tell you of the passion that drives my...ungodly behaviour, but I can show you. Look well upon it, little witch, and spare me your pity.”

  He twisted round, tugged the shirt from his britches, and lifted it so his back lay bare. It was a strong back – broad and beautifully sculpted with muscle. Exquisitely formed, thought Kate, tears flooding her eyes. At one time it would have been perfect.

  Dizzy with shock, she stroked her fingers over the ugly ridges of scars that disfigured the pale skin. He flinched at her touch.

  “Please,” he hissed. “Don't.”

  “Who?” she whispered, tears escaping down her cheeks. “In God's name, Elric, who did this to you?”

  “In God's name?” He pulled his shirt down and turned to her. “Your words are well chosen, for it was a man claiming to act for your God who gave me the scars. He swore the lashings would cure me of the demons that dwelt within my soul. Demons? I was but an innocent child. In truth, I had no demons in me until he meted out his holy cure. Only then did they enter my body, with every cut of his lash. Now I embrace those demons. They are part of me. They are what drive my passion.” He brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Don't cry. Your tears are wasted on me, as is the anger I read in your thoughts. My soul is as scarred as my skin, my heart merely an unfeeling device that keeps me alive. And, in case you haven't noticed, I do not possess a conscience. There. I trust you now have a better understanding of the man who holds you captive. So, unless you have more questions, leave me in peace for the next while. I have work to do.” With a nod to her, he returned to his seat, took up his quill, and began to write.

  Despite the fire burning on the altar, the air in the cavern had turned cold. Katherine shivered as she studied Elric's profile. What torture had he endured? What child could ever emerge unscathed from such cruel treatment?

  She wanted to go to him, touch him, soothe him. Forgive him for all he had done to her. His pen paused again, and the small muscle twitched beneath the scar on his face.

  “Cease your absolution,” he said, without looking at her, “or I swear I shall remove you to your chamber.”

  It was, she knew, an idle threat, but she turned and went to stand beneath the fissure, her earlier fear replaced by profound sadness. She gazed up at a solitary, shimmering star. The surrounding patch of night sky had a glow to it, no doubt from the nearby moon that was obscured from view.

  Such is your desolate spirit, Elric. At first glance, dark and empty, but a glimmer of light still shines at its heart. I know. I have seen it.

  The star blurred behind another well of tears. He claimed indifference, but she had seen the pain in his eyes and shared the injustice of it. How could she not? For did she not also possess a similar birthmark?

  A birthmark.

  Kate blinked her tears away and looked at the metal rod that lay embedded in the coals. She knew it for what it was. A branding iron. All her father's livestock bore Wraysholme's mark. She had witnessed the procedure many times, smelled the burning flesh, heard the brief, plaintive cries of the beasts.

  What mark, she wondered, was to be placed upon her?

  At that moment, a spear of moonlight fell through the fissure and landed on the three spirals carved into the altar.

  Behind her, she heard Elric stir.

  Chapter 21

  Owen lifted his face to the breeze, savouring the purposeful motion of Arrio's body beneath him. John Harrington's horse mirrored Arrio's performance, keeping pace with ease. Lio loped alongside, ears pricked, tongue lolling, silver coat rippling.

  Behind them, the less delicate hooves of Crovan's mighty horse shook the earth, accompanied by his constant symphony of excited snorts and shameless farts.

  Even the animals, Owen mused, sensed the anticipation he and John Harrington shared. They had a destination. The only thing they lacked was time. It flew by without mercy as the sun arced across the sky. Midnight, and with it the arrival of the solstice, threatened to swamp them like a dense rolling fog.

  The last few miles of their journey were blessed by a robust full moon, which granted them enough light to pick their way along the weathered coastal path. At last, Maughold Head's craggy outline, crowned by the forlorn silhouette of Maughold Kirk, arose from a silver sea.

  The wind had ceased its soft daylight song and now wailed a sad lament, accompanied by the endless roar of waves breaking upon the rocks.

  “Christ.” Owen's gut tightened as he eyed the desolate scene. “What a god-forsaken place.”

  “Aye, and I hope the devil who haunts it isn't expecting us,” said John, steering his horse into a clump of oak trees. “We'll leave the horses here and continue on foot.”

  The darkness thickened around them as they entered the wooded area. An owl hooted overhead, followed a moment later by a sound that lifted the hair on Owen's neck.

  It filled the air, soaring up and over them as if carried on invisible wings. Even the wind, it seemed, paused to listen. Owen turned to see Lio on the edge of the cliffs, his head lifted to the moon, singing the song of his ancestors. Perhaps, Owen fancied, he sang knowing Kate was nearby.

  “It's been many years since I heard that,” said John, sheathing his sword, “and it still sets my heart racing.”

  Owen heaved a saddlebag over his shoulder and gave John a wry smile. “'Tis unusual for him to howl. I trained him to be quiet for his own safety. I'm sure you understand, Sir John.”

  John's lip twitched. “Call the beast to heel, lad. He has work to do.”

  Without hesitation, Lio led them straight to the entrance of the labyrinth and pawed at the metal grate. Owen's stomach churned. Kate was imprisoned down there, somewhere. Were they in time? He exchanged a glance with John, knowing they shared the same thought.

  “May God be with us,” John muttered, and lifted the grate.

  Lio peered into the darkness below, his hackles rising.

  “Go,” Owen whispered. “Go find Kate, Lio.”

  The wolf growled in response and launched himself down the steps.

  ~o~

  Without speaking, Elric brushed by Kate and started up the stairs, a burning candle in one hand.

  “Wait.” Panic fluttered in her chest. “Where are you going?”

  “There's something I must do,” he said, without turning. “I'll return shortly.”

  “No!” She ran to the foot of the staircase and glanced back at the moonlit altar. “I know you're preparing for some kind of...of ceremony tonight, but you don't have to leave me alone, do you? You gave me your word, remember?”

  Elric paused mid-stride. Kate thought she heard him groan. Certainly, she heard a ragged sigh. Yet when he turned to her, his face showed no sign of emotion. He held out a hand. “Accompan
y me, then, if you wish.”

  Driven by relief, she stumbled up the stairs and placed her hand in his. He raised it to his lips, turning it to kiss the sensitive skin of her wrist. At the same time, his mind caressed hers with such intimacy that Kate gasped, her body shivering with sudden unbidden pleasure.

  “You need not fear,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “You were born for this night, Katherine. Created for it. So, when the time comes, don't fight me. No real harm will come to you. I swear it.”

  She glanced at the coals and shivered again. “I... I don't know what you mean.”

  “I think you do.” He ran his thumb across her knuckles. “I want what you have and will take it by force if necessary, but would prefer your cooperation. Will you give it? Will you give me what I want without a struggle?”

  “If I agree, will you do the same?” she asked, tears blurring her eyes as she thought of her home. “Will you give me what I want?”

  Like a gentle kiss, his mind met hers again. “No,” he whispered, “not that. I will never give you that.”

  “Then you must take what you want from me,” she replied, “for I shall not give it willingly.”

  The small muscle beneath his scar twitched and his fingers tightened around hers. “That is regrettable, Katherine.”

  In silence, they wound through the tunnels. Elric's stride, long and urgent, had Kate stumbling along in its wake. She sensed his anger. Or was it disappointment?

  “Where are we going?” she asked, wondering at their destination. He didn't respond, but a moment later they came to a door, similar to that of her own chamber. To her surprise, Elric rapped on it.

  Kate gasped. “There's someone in there?” Her question was answered as the door swung open to reveal a robed silhouette, outlined by the glow of candlelight.

  “The Devil rot you, Elric,” a man's voice said – a voice vaguely familiar to Kate. “You said you'd only be... Ah, you've brought the little witch along. Let me see her.”

  The man tried to push past Elric, who stepped in front of Kate like a shield.

  “All in good time, my lord. The main chamber is this way.”

  Still grasping her hand, Elric kept Kate behind him and steered the man back along the passageway. Kate sensed a sudden and profound change in Elric. She tasted bitterness on her tongue and her stomach clenched. It had to do with this man. Who was he, and how was he involved with her abduction? And where, under God's heaven, had she heard his voice before?

  Fear knotted beneath her ribs, and another voice spoke, this one welcome.

  Stay strong, Katherine. Do not falter now.

  Elric's hand tightened around hers as he turned and glanced at her. Had he heard it too?

  “How much farther?” the man asked, irritation evident in his tone. “Mother of God. This is a hellish pit.”

  “We have arrived, my lord Prior,” Elric replied, pushing open the door to the cavern.

  My lord Prior?

  Kate let out a cry as she realized who the man was. Prior Cuthbert. A holy man. A man well acquainted with her father.

  “Prior Cuthbert?” She tugged herself free of Elric's grasp and followed the prior down the stairs. “What...what are you doing here? Are you come to take me home?”

  “Good God. Look at this place. It suits you, Elric.” The prior gazed around the cavern before turning cold eyes to Kate. “Not exactly, little witch, although I am here to save you.”

  “I don't understand.” She sent a questioning glance to Elric, who stood at the top of the stairs, watching her. “Save me?”

  “Yes,” Cuthbert hissed, like a serpent about to strike. “Save your soul from the evil that dwells within it.”

  His words chilled her blood. “But I'm...I'm not evil. Please, just...just take me home. My father will reward you well, I'm certain of it.”

  Prior Cuthbert chuckled. “'Twas your father's gold that paid for your abduction, foolish girl.”

  Kate's hand flew to her throat. “You lie,” she said, fighting tears. “My father would never –”

  “Oh, he had no idea. He thought he was making a donation to the church.” The prior frowned. “Which he was, in a way, since ridding the world of evil is part of God's work. Of course, this devil here is a lost cause and should have been drowned at birth...” he glanced at Elric, “...but at least he led me to you. Imagine. The legendary knight, John Harrington, father to a witch. I had no idea. Let's get this over with, Elric. I'm eager to be gone from this place.”

  Elric responded with a slow nod, descended the stairs and went to the altar. The coals shimmered in their cauldron, bending the very air with their heat.

  “Wait, please.” Kate grasped Cuthbert's sleeve. “You're mistaken, my lord. I'm neither evil nor a witch. As a man of God, you must have mercy. I beg of you. Elric, tell him. Tell him this gift I have is not evil.”

  “You're wasting your breath.” Cuthbert wrapped an iron hand around her wrist. “He won't help you. It was he who told me of your witchcraft. We made a deal, a bargain. After he's done with you, you'll be given over to me.”

  Weakened by fear, her legs trembled. Was this the empty future she had witnessed while alone in the tunnel? She looked again to the silent figure who stood at the altar.

  “Does he speak the truth, Elric? Do you mean to give me to him?”

  “The truth is that you belong to me already,” said Cuthbert. “This pagan ceremony is a reluctant concession on my part, may God forgive me. Though it will, I trust, serve to defend my actions by proving the existence of your witchery. You will stand accused and be punished accordingly.”

  “Bring her here, my lord.” Elric's voice carried over the rush of blood in Kate's ears as he turned to face them, a length of rope dangling from one hand.

  “At last.” Cuthbert tugged Kate to the altar. “And I see you've taken my advice. Good. I'll hold her while you bind her, then.”

  Fear and disbelief threatened to push Kate to her knees. She looked into Elric's pale face, searching for some compassion in his dark eyes. As usual, she saw nothing but indifference, yet she reached out, trusting her instincts.

  “I refuse to believe you will give me to this man,” she whispered. “You told me I would come to no harm, yet he's the one, isn't he? The one who beat you as a child? You know he will do the same to me.”

  “Yes, he will,” he said, touching a fingertip to her temple, “and I cannot allow that.”

  With a swirl of black cloak, he spun around and slipped the rope over Cuthbert's head, tightening it around the man's throat.

  Cuthbert released Kate and pulled at the deadly noose, sputtering through darkening lips as his eyes bulged.

  Elric bent his head to the prior's ear.

  “Our deal is off. The little witch will never belong to you. She belongs only to me. Do you understand?”

  Spittle spewed from the prior's purple lips, his frantic fingers clawing at the rope that cut into his neck.

  “Elric, stop.” Kate tugged on his arm. “You're killing him. Please, stop.”

  “Did you hear that, my lord?” Elric's mouth twisted. “She pleads for your life, even after you threatened hers. Yet you say she is evil, an instrument of the Devil. Look into her eyes, you godless bastard, and recognize what lies within. Do you see it? Do you see the innocence in her heart and the goodness in her soul? Those qualities were mine once, but you took them from me. No, you tore them from me, and replaced them with demons who now happily dispatch you to Hell.”

  There came a flash of steel from beneath Elric's cloak. The dagger's blade finished what the noose had begun, slicing the prior's bruised throat as the man slumped to the floor.

  With vestiges of life twitching his limbs, the prior rolled onto his back, eyes bulging, a blackened tongue lolling from blue lips. Blood snaked across the ancient stone, pooling into the natural indents of the rock. Elric bent, wiped the blade on the prior's robe, and kicked the body toward the precipice. It hung on the edge for a momen
t before plunging into the darkness below.

  Nauseated with shock, Kate turned toward the staircase, seeking only to escape. She paused as her mind made a startling connection.

  The vision.

  This she had already seen, in every detail. She looked at the blood staining the ground – the prior's blood – not her father's.

  “Dear God,” she whispered, closing her eyes in relief.

  “Do not waste time mourning him.” Elric's hand closed around her arm he spoke the familiar words. “He deserved to die. You belong with me, Katherine. No one else will ever –”

  He snatched the same sharp breath and looked up at the doorway as she knew he would. She watched the shocked expression on his face as Lio's feral growl echoed around the cavern.

  Her heart clenched, knowing full well who stood on the threshold. Despite her awareness, she could not save herself from stumbling as Elric pushed her away. As in her vision, the world around her spun when her head hit the stone. This time though, she cast the pain aside and waited to hear his beloved voice.

  “Kate!”

  She laughed through her tears and gave the reply.

  “Owen!”

  Through blurred eyes, she saw Elric lift his sword from the wall as Owen, sword already in hand, started down the stairs with Lio at his heels.

  “Owen, wait!”

  It was her father's voice, stern and commanding, his tall figure looming on the threshold.

  “Papa,” she murmured, finding comfort in saying it.

  He spoke again. “The bastard is mine. Keep Lio back and see to Katherine.”

  “But –”

  “Don't argue, lad.” He twirled his sword as he descended the stairs. “Just do as I say.”

  Owen gave a nod. “Lio, to me,” he said, and strode over to where Kate lay.

  He set down his sword and knelt at her side, his handsome face shadowed with stubble and gentle eyes haunted by worry.

  “Kate,” he murmured, lifting her from the hard floor to cradle her in the secure strength of his arms. “Oh, Kate. Thank God. Are you alright?”