Triskelion

by Avril Borthiry

  Kate shook her head. How could she have bestowed such a... a thing upon him? She hesitated to consider it a gift. What then? A miracle? Of sorts, yes. Dear God, yes. But a blessing or a curse?

  “I can read your thoughts too, don't forget.” His voice held a hint of amusement. “The secret of Avalon is no curse. I consider it a blessing and intend to use it well.”

  “But...it's so much more than I ever imagined. Think about what it means. What if you tire of it? Might it not also become a burden?”

  “I doubt it, but if so, there are ways to rescind it.” He glanced at the paling sky and gestured toward Wraysholme. “Enough. We must head back. You should be home before–”

  He tensed, visibly. Curious to see what had stilled his voice, Kate followed his gaze.

  A man stood at the end of the lane, watching them. The twilight obscured the finer details of his identity, but Kate knew who he was. Had she been at all uncertain, the silver wolf at his side would have confirmed it.

  Shock stole her breath.

  Owen.

  How long had he been there? Did it even matter? He had already seen them together.

  Oh, my love. What must you be thinking? Please understand. Please.

  For certain, he already understood that Elric lived.

  So why does he not move? What is he waiting for?

  “You, Katherine.”

  Elric's words skimmed over the turmoil in her head. She blinked.

  “What?”

  “Owen is waiting for you.” He released her hand. “It's time to go.”

  The solitary cry of a gull echoed off the cliffs. Kate tasted salt on her tongue and felt a sweet, familiar tug on her heart. Elric was right. It was time to go. No words of any value remained unspoken. Everything that needed to be said had been said.

  Resolved, she slid his cloak from her shoulders and gave it to him. In silent farewell, she raised up on her toes and kissed his scarred cheek.

  Elric closed his eyes.

  Then, as she had earlier that night, she grabbed a handful of her muddied shift, and ran. She didn't look back. She kept her focus on Owen, still uncertain of what his reaction would be. So far there had been no acknowledgement of her approach, no outward sign of his feelings.

  She halted several strides from him, her chest heaving with exertion. His eyes narrowed slightly as they moved over her, but his expression remained impassive. Kate bit down on her lip and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. No doubt she looked a sight – dishevelled, barefoot and muddy. Lio whined and wagged his tail.

  Kate swallowed. “Owen, I –”

  He frowned and gave his head a slight shake, demanding silence. His gaze drifted past her, presumably to where Elric stood. A moment later, his eyes met hers again.

  “Did you find the answers you sought?”

  Kate nodded and took a hesitant step forward. “I... yes, I did. Owen, please let me –”

  “Then we'll speak no further of what happened this night.” His jaw tightened. “Both my questions have been answered also.”

  “Both?” Kate's teeth chattered. “I don't understand.”

  In one stride, he closed the distance between them and took her in her arms.

  “You came back to me, Kate,” he whispered. “You came back to me.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Owen blinked the dust from his eyes as he curried Arrio's sleek coat. He worked in the gloom, his task made easier by the stallion's pale colour. The tiny cobwebbed window offered a hint of dawn, although the sun had yet to rise. Owen had awoken to darkness and, with Lio at his heels, crept outside. He needed a release for his restlessness and the stable had beckoned. Its quiet interior offered him a place to think and reflect while working off some excess energy.

  This would be his and Kate's last morning at Wraysholme for several months. By midday, once the tide had ebbed, they would be on their way to Mann. He frowned, his mind still churning with the events of two nights before.

  On that fateful night, Lio's wet nose and gentle whines had roused Owen to a lonely bed. For the wolf to do such a thing meant that Kate had left the house. But why? For one sickening moment, he thought he'd lost her again.

  Then a whisper of reason surfaced. Had Kate been taken, or had she gone willingly?

  Before he had a chance to grab his sword and raise the alarm, logic prevailed. Lio would never let anyone take Kate by force – at least, not without alerting the entire household. So, she must have gone willingly, and Owen knew of only one person with influence enough to lure her away.

  He'd long suspected it was not a ghost that haunted Kate's dreams. He knew Elric shared a bond with her, one forged centuries before. Surely, then, it was never meant to end on the night of the solstice. John Harrington was right. Elric's apparent suicide made no sense. Not after what had taken place. The man, somehow, must have survived his dramatic plunge.

  Acknowledging it, however, didn't make it easier to accept. Nor did seeing them together on the shore.

  Of course I came back to you, Owen. I belong with you. Only you.

  Her response to him had been tarnished by a touch of bewilderment, no doubt because she'd so recently been assured of his trust. He'd seen the dismay in her eyes and mirrored it on his conscience.

  Kate's conscience was as clear as the night sky. She had never intended to hurt him.

  Still, seeing her with another man had stoked a feral and possessive instinct within Owen. All he wanted in that moment was to take Kate to bed; put his hands on her, kiss her senseless and bury himself inside her. He harboured an irrational urge to prove that she belonged to him and only him. Yet he ignored the jealous ache in his groin, and merely held her until Elric's dark figure disappeared into the morning mist.

  Forever, he hoped.

  As for Kate's father – he had no idea of what had taken place that night. Owen doubted that John Harrington would ever understand – or even tolerate – Kate's connection to the man who had once held her captive. In some ways, he mused, Elric still held her captive. He couldn't help but wonder what secrets they shared.

  Arrio snorted and stamped a hoof.

  “Sorry, old man.” Owen sighed and pulled the comb over Arrio's rump. “My mind was elsewhere.”

  “Want me to start on the big fellow?”

  Startled, Owen dropped the comb.

  “Christ, Thomas.”

  Thomas chuckled and stooped to scratch Lio's head. “Jumpy this morning, aren't we. Early too. Eager to be gone?”

  “Can't go anywhere until the tide ebbs.” Owen raked a dusty hand through his hair and bent to retrieve the comb. “Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd make a start on getting the horses ready.”

  “Right. Well, I'll see to the big bastard if you like. He takes a bit of time. I have to stand on a ladder to brush his arse.”

  “Thomas, please! His name is Humphrey.”

  Owen spun round. Kate stood in the doorway, hair loose, hands clasped in front, a glimmer of amusement in her eyes. In the soft light of dawn, she looked almost ethereal. His body responded to the vision she created.

  Thomas cleared his throat. “Beg your pardon, mistress. I meant no offence.”

  She smiled. “None taken. I was teasing. How's your shoulder?”

  He shrugged it several times, frowning as he did so. “Better. Aches a bit on damp days.”

  “No trouble climbing ladders, though?”

  Owen stifled a laugh and Thomas succumbed to a sheepish smile. “No, my lady. No trouble climbing ladders.” With a respectful nod, he stepped past her. “If you'll excuse me, I'll leave you two in peace.”

  Owen held out a hand and Kate took it, stepping into his embrace. The subtle scent of roses filled the air around him, easing the mustiness from his lungs.

  A sigh escaped her. “I missed you this morning, Owen.”

  “I missed you too.”

  Brows raised, she looked at him. “Then why did you leave?”

  “I was restless.” Aroused by t
he feel of her body against his, he fidgeted. “In truth, I wanted nothing more than to wake you, but you looked so peaceful, I decided not to disturb you.”

  “Hmm.” She wrinkled her nose. “Well, feel free to disturb me next time. I hated waking up to find you gone.”

  The bitter irony of her comment caught him unawares as did his reaction to it. Owen tried to shield the impact with a smile, and failed.

  Kate gasped. “Oh my God, Owen, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me. I didn't think.” She shook her head, her expression one of absolute dismay. “I didn't think.”

  Somewhere in Owen's mind, a door to the past closed with a quiet click. What had already occurred could never be changed. Consequently, none of it mattered. All that mattered to him was the woman looking at him right now, with love and concern in her beautiful eyes. “I didn't think either, cariad. Today is a special day for us. It's a new beginning. I should never have left you alone this morning. I should have been at your side when you awoke.” He kissed her. “I belong with you, Katherine Rose Madoc. Only you.”

  ~ ~ ~

  John Harrington placed a hand on his daughter's booted foot and gazed up at her.

  “You'll write to me as soon as you arrive at Rushen,” he said, managing a smile. Sweet Heaven, she looked like her mother, with her dark disobedient curls and hints of roses on her cheeks. “That is not a request.”

  Kate, perched on Humphrey's wide back, nodded and scrubbed a tear from her cheek.

  “I promise, Papa.”

  “And you'll be back for Christmas.”

  “Yes, of course. Are you sure you'll be alright until then? I hate to think of you here, all alone.”

  “I'm hardly alone, child. Thomas and David are here, plus the servants.” He glanced at Owen, who was fighting to settle an excited Arrio. “Owen, be sure to take excellent care of my daughter.”

  He nodded. “You have my word, Sir John.”

  “Good enough for me.”

  Something nudged his leg.

  “Ah, Lio.” John bent to pet the wolf, gazing into eyes that contained a thousand years of instinct. “Owen was right. Your predecessor was undefeated. Thank you for all you have done. I shall miss you. In fact, I believe I shall miss you the most.” He straightened and looked at the two people he loved more than anything, swallowing against a sudden lump in his throat. “Enough said. Be off with you, now. The tide is well out, so it should be safe to cross. And may God keep you.”

  Later – much later – John sat in the parlour, staring into the idle fireplace. The chairs at his side were vacant, and an empty spot by the hearth lacked the sleeping form of a wolf. The sun, low in the sky, cast long shadows through the leaded windows. He sighed, swirled the wine in his goblet and took a sip, grimacing at its bitter taste. Wraysholme felt deserted and, for the first time in his life, John Harrington felt old. He gave himself a mental kick.

  Stop it, Harrington. For Christ's sake.

  “My lord?”

  He turned to see Thomas standing in the doorway, a scroll of some description clasped in his hand.

  “What is it, Thomas?”

  “A message, my lord. From the lady Katherine.”

  He sat up. “Katherine? I don't understand.”

  “She asked me to give it to you an hour before sunset.”

  Curiosity stirred. “Do you know what it's about?”

  “No, my lord.”

  What are you up to, Katherine? He stood and held out a hand. “Come in, then. Give it to me.”

  Thomas did as bidden. “Shall I wait?”

  John nodded and set his goblet down. “Aye, I think you'd better.”

  He unfurled the scroll to see Katherine's neat handwriting, frowning as he read.

  Dearest Papa,

  Owen and I have a surprise for you. It's a special gift, and one that can only be acquired by visiting the Holy Well at sunset. I'm certain you will understand its significance.

  God keep you,

  Katherine.

  “Is everything alright, my lord?”

  John looked up, his puzzled mind still absorbing Kate's words. “Aye, thank you, Thomas. Are you sure you don't know anything about this?”

  “Positive,” he said, with a gleam in his eye.

  ~ ~ ~

  Lit by the setting sun, the bare sands sparkled with flashes of red and gold. Gulls, gliding on the breeze, appeared as black silhouettes against the sky. John, afoot, wound his way along the shore toward the cliffs, driven by curiosity and haunted by memories.

  The screams of a dying horse. The broken corpse of a wolf. Immeasurable pain.

  Adela's voice.

  Let me help you. Hush, now. It's alright. You're going to be alright.

  She had the ability to heal, but her love, above all else, had pulled him back from death's threshold. That had been her true gift to him. Now, it seemed, another gift awaited him at the cliffs.

  He paused, his eyes seeking the spot where the blessed waters emerged from the earth. There. Yet the surrounding rocks were empty. No mysterious package, no intriguing bundle sat upon them.

  Perturbed, John glanced around. Had he missed something? Had someone already been there, and taken what was meant for him? There were no recent footprints in the sand to indicate that.

  “I'm at a loss, Katherine,” he said out loud. “Where is this gift you speak of?”

  In what seemed like a response, several pebbles bounced down the cliff and landed at his feet. He stared at them, his eyes blurring with tears as he realized what they meant. He knew what had dislodged those small stones and sent them skittering down the limestone slope. He knew, when he looked up at the wolf's cave, what he would see standing in its dark entrance.

  I'm certain you will understand its significance.

  Yes, he understood.

  The wolf had returned, only this time he would not be the knight's quarry. This time, he would be welcomed into the knight's home and become the knight's companion.

  That certain spot by Wraysholme's hearth would no longer be empty.

  Epilogue

  Gwynedd, North Wales.

  Present Day

  The iPhone's rendition of Adiemus roused Jake from sleep. He fumbled for the offender in the half-light, squinting at the electric-blue time display on the bedside clock.

  6:23 am.

  Late, for him. Then again, he'd been up half the night working. As usual.

  He touched the 'answer' key and grunted a weary response.

  Less than ten minutes later, Jake hit the Jaguar's start button and peeled out of his driveway. The mountains of North Wales were soon left behind as the car headed north to Cumbria. Jake's fingers gripped the wheel while his mind came to grips with he had learned that morning.

  Jake – it's Paul Stourbridge, Lancaster University. Forgive the hour but... you'll find this of interest ... Samuel Kellett... yes, that's him... just called me... the old fellow has found... yes, in the cave... more your field than mine... I thought so... good... I'll tell him you're on your way... he's not to disturb anything ... right, understood...about three hours? yes, yes, got that... keep me posted, okay?

  A car horn blared an alarm. Jake blinked and veered back into his proper lane, shaking himself mentally.

  “Christ, Jake,” he murmured. “Take a breath.”

  He took several, slow and deep, trying to steady his heart as the miles vanished beneath his wheels.

  Almost three hours later, Jake steered the Jaguar down the narrow road leading to the cliffs. The lane ended at the shore, where the naked sands stretched out beneath grey skies. Jake parked next to a solitary red van, stepped from the car, and breathed in the familiar smell of estuary mud and salt air. He set out in the direction of the cave, pausing to read a small rusted sign that had been hammered into the ground at the foot of the cliffs.

  Danger. Water Not Suitable For Drinking.

  Beneath it, a vigorous spring bubbled up from the earth and tumbled over the rocks. Jake smiled to himself, scoo
ped up a palm full of the cool liquid, and drank it.

  “I wouldn't recommend drinking that.”

  Jake wiped the drips from his chin and turned toward the owner of the voice.

  “I'll take my chances,” he replied, performing a quick study of the unkempt grey-haired man before him. The shadows beneath the man's eyes indicated a sleepless night. “Professor Kellett, I presume? I'm Dr Price. Jake Price. I believe Paul Stourbridge told you I'd be coming.”

  “Yes, indeed. I've been expecting you. Thank you for –”

  “Did Paul also give you my message?” Jake shook the man's outstretched hand and looked up at the cave entrance. “Not to disturb the site further?”

  “Yes, he did.” A frown settled on the professor's face. “We haven't –”.

  “Good.” Jake stepped past him, eyeing the somewhat rickety collection of ladders and ropes anchored to the slope. “Okay if I head on up?”

  “By all means. Don't wait for me. It takes my old limbs a little longer to navigate the slope. My assistant, Emily, is there. I'm sure she'll answer any questions you might have.”

  Jake heard a hint of resentment in the man's voice and paused. “Forgive me, Professor. I'm being rude. It's just that this find of yours is of particular interest to me.”

  “I've gathered that. Might I ask why?”

  “Because of the legend associated with this headland.” His gaze scoured the cliffs. “I specialize in legends, particularly the lesser known ones.”

  Sam Kellett raised a brow. “The legend of the last wolf, you mean? You think there's a connection between that and what we've found? I'm not sure I concur. I'm not even sure the legend has any basis of truth. There are several similar 'last wolf' stories spread out around the British Isles, each making the same claim.”

  “All legends contain a measure of truth, but actually, I'm not talking about the last wolf in this case. I'm talking about the one who came after him.”

  “The one who...?” The professor blinked. “I'm afraid, Dr. Price, you have me at a disadvantage. I wasn't aware of a second wolf. Doesn't that, in itself, negate the original legend?”

  “Not really. The wolf of the original legend was English – a wild fugitive that was hunted and killed. The second wolf was of Welsh origin and tame. He died of simple old age. I suspect you've found his final resting place.”