“You failed me, Hugh,” she said. “I must be freed. You must free me!” she screamed from the void. The stone walls shook at the sound. “The gateway is nearby. Water.”
“I will,” he gasped out, trying to understand her words. His skin was engulfed in flames and burned, melting and reforming only to burn again. There was no pleasure now, only relentless suffering without an end.
“Free me,” she whispered. “And there will be much favor for you, my faithful one,” she promised.
Now her touch changed and his body reacted. His prick hardened and he neared a sexual release. His skin burned but now pleasure raced through his blood as she sent waves of bliss through him. His seed spent, he fell back when she released him. The sound of wings fluttering was all he could hear as she moved away.
Rolling away from the portal, he waited for his body to recover from this encounter. She had punished him this time. He felt her anger and her disappointment. As he waited for his skin to mend, the whispers began anew. The priest was praying again.
“You will carry out the ritual, priest,” Hugh said when his throat finally healed. “And then you will be the first offering to the goddess when she is free,” he warned. Rolling to his side and then pushing up onto his knees, he laughed at this one.
“It will be a great honor,” Hugh said. “You will not live to enjoy it, but you will be remembered by the faithful.”
Standing now, he straightened up, running his hands over his flesh. Resilient. Renewed. Younger. He pulled his robe on and opened the door. The chamber was empty and silent now, the portal closed. Eudes waited there. Other than a quick glance at Hugh’s hair, now black again no doubt, Eudes did not react.
“Bring them along,” Hugh ordered.
Climbing the steps out of the lower chamber, he found the day half gone. Time did not pass at the same speed when he communed with the goddess as it did when he was not in her presence. He’d lost hours in the agony she gave him. Hours of being undone and remade. Of pain and torment. Of pleasure and release.
Now, he needed to find the circle. The goddess had said “water” during their joining. Was the circle near the water? From what he’d learned, most of the stone circles here were close to two big lakes in the center of the island. Or did she mean something else?
This was not as easy as finding the first circle. His father had done so much of the searching and preparation for that. He’d known the location before the others did. Now, in this strange land, he had to search for it. Or . . .
He could simply wait for the other bloodlines to find it and then use the waterblood and stormblood to open it to save her father and their friend.
They were not the only ones using human spies to keep watch. His men reported back often. That was how he’d captured the priest. Funny, a Roman priest who also knew the old gods. Ironic too that he would be the one praying the ritual to free Chaela.
As they left the church grounds, Hugh decided to use Svein’s house while they waited. He was not opposed to a bit of luxury and a few good meals while he gathered knowledge for the next step.
And the housekeeper learned her place quite quickly with the right incentives. Bruised, bloodied and on her knees before him was his favorite.
He gave the few women to his men to reward them and to keep them busy while he waited. A bit of sexual pleasure held a man’s loyalty and Hugh used it on those he needed. Soon all the servants there learned that they did not answer to the old master.
And never would again.
• • •
Soren went back to the broch the next morning. The priests had made great progress in copying the symbols and drawings as rapidly as possible, working without stopping even through the night. Precious parchment sheets lay strewn around the main chamber, placed there as they were finished. Studying them, side by side, he looked for anything he might recognize. Or a symbol or sign that might indicate the hiding place of the circle they needed.
Efforts to locate Ander were unsuccessful, but Soren did not doubt that de Gifford had him. Word was that he and his men were at Svein’s house in Orphir waiting. Waiting for what they knew not. Tension grew in the camp as preparations were made for so many different schemes and scenarios. Roger had the fighting men well in hand, but William did not think they would be needed, as in the first battle.
Marcus did not think that Ander possessed the knowledge to perform the ritual, so William ordered more guards on all the priests. Only Aislinn with her own personal hulking guard was permitted any freedom. The warrior was not well liked, Soren could tell, and most of the priests scattered at his approach. But the man answered only to Brienne and did whatever she asked of him—protecting Aislinn was his only duty now.
“Soren,” Ran called from below. He walked down into the lower chamber to answer her call.
“Look at this part,” she said, pointing to a section of the wall in the direction of the main stone circles. “So many signs and symbols there, and there.” She outlined several of the strange ones. “Einar had squares drawn there on his other map.”
“That is where you had that strange experience. You became ill. I thought you were going to fall or be pulled into the water.” She paled at the memory.
“Aye, there. That is on Loch Harray. The markings are on the other side, near the Watchstone and its mate.”
“We did not search because you were ill,” Soren said.
“Mayhap we need to look there? We might have missed whatever this symbol means?” Then she touched a place near Brodgar’s Ring—the drawing showed a smaller stone or monument. “We may not have been careful when we searched the stones for any signs or messages.”
Ran had a keen mind and could pick up patterns quickly. And he did not miss her reference to their distraction the morning after their first day and night together.
“Should we look closer?” she asked.
“Let us first speak with William. He asks that we tell him of our plans and movements.”
Soren gathered up the completed copies and rolled them. Handing them to Ran, they left the chamber and the broch and walked out. They did not wish to draw attention to their presence there or to give Hugh any sign that the broch held some significance. So only three priests worked in the chamber at a time, with another keeping watch from over the rise near the road.
The main responsibility of the watchman was to close up the stairway if anyone approached and to leave. Soren had spent most of this last day overseeing both transporting the necessary priests and keeping watch over them and the broch. From up high, Soren could see anyone on the north road miles before they grew close.
Marcus estimated that they would finish their work here in one more day. Then the whole of the knowledge shared by Einar would be ready for their study. Soren was continually surprised by everything he learned about his grandfather.
A priest? And that of great power and abilities?
And he had grown up believing his grandfather was just a little daft and held some questionable philosophies. Had Soren’s own resistance been the reason Einar had delayed in sharing this knowledge? He would never know now.
They stood in the shadow of the broch, hidden from prying eyes, when he held his hand out to Ran. She accepted his touch more easily now, but there remained a divide between them. They had not lain together since that morning on Birsay. She slept in the women’s tent and he barely slept anywhere he laid his head.
Reunited in a manner but still very separate, he thought, as if she held some secret from him even as he held his own critical one from her. Love was not the issue for them—he doubted not that their love remained even after his betrayal and two years of separation. Now, trust was the challenge.
She did not trust him.
Soren squeezed her hand and took her in his arms. It took only moments to take her to the encampment and though he became the wind, he could
feel her body within his embrace. If he did not put her on her feet immediately, well . . .
“Ah, you have returned.” William approached with Aislinn and her ever-present guard.
Ran held out the rolled parchments to William.
“They are quite effective at this task,” William said, nodding to Aislinn.
“It is strange for us to have a written document of our beliefs,” Aislinn said. “Our faith has been handed down from generation to generation through prayers and songs and stories. To see these”—she nodded at the vellum sheets—“is strange and wondrous.”
“I think we may have missed something at Stenness or Brodgar,” Ran said. “There are many markings in that area that we do not understand yet.”
“Ran wants to go and make a closer examination of the Watchstone and the smaller stone just outside Brodgar’s Ring,” Soren explained.
“Two priests are there now,” William said. “Tell them what you seek and they can help.”
“Once Marcus and the others examine these, we should make our plan.” Aislinn looked from William to him. “Brienne said Hugh has touched the goddess. Her own powers have flared uncontrollably.” This development did not sit well with the warrior.
“Where is she?” he asked.
“Away from us, in the hills, until she can gain control,” Aislinn explained.
“Damn it,” William shouted. “Damn him to hell!” His skin began to shift to blue and his eyes blazed. The warblood was very close. He strode off, calling out orders and growling as he went.
“He will seek her out,” Aislinn explained. Soren knew from the look in the man’s and the warblood’s eyes that his mate would not be alone for long.
“How does he do that?” Ran asked. “Change into that creature and yet keep control.”
“Love.” He turned at the single-word reply. She continued. “His love for her and hers for him enables them both to retain their humanity even while in their bloodline form.”
He shook his head. Before he could say anything, Aislinn touched his hand.
“You have had that ability from the beginning of your powers because of the love that already existed between you two,” Aislinn said. “It is most powerful.”
Ran made a soft noise and he glanced at her. Her discomfort at this topic was there on her face. She might have accepted that something still existed between them, but she was not ready to speak of such things to strangers.
“If you are ready then, Ran?” Soren interrupted, holding out his hand once more. Aislinn nodded and stepped away.
“I would speak with you when you return, Ran,” the young priestess said.
Soren scooped her into his arms and lifted her high in the air. It was very peaceful up here and he found that he stopped and just floated many times just to enjoy it. He did that now, allowing Ran to see everything beneath them.
“The coastline looks so very different from here,” she whispered. “And even more so when I am in the water.”
“Have a look,” he said, holding her still. “There is the Bay of Skaill. And look how the layers of rock change at the sea’s edge.”
He’d climbed on many rock outcroppings, risking falling into the dangerous waters. It was something boys did to challenge themselves.
If he dawdled now, enjoying the feel of her in his embrace, with no one else around them, he refused to feel guilt over it. Since meeting up with these outsiders, they had barely a moment without others around. The priests liked to ask them questions. The others—the warblood and fireblood—spoke of powers and plans. Even Roger and the other men drew his attention away from where he wanted it—on Ran.
“I think I would remain up if I had this power,” she said as they flew south.
“Do you feel that way when you are with the sea?”
“Aye. I feel safe there. It is my refuge.”
Her voice was not that of the strong woman he knew. She had been injured, so injured that she sought the sea and him to recover from it.
“I am here for you, Ran,” he whispered. She looked at him and said nothing. “But you do not trust me. You love me, but you do not trust.”
She sighed and he carried it away on the winds.
“I cannot simply change what I feel or I would,” she explained, her gaze still on the ground and not on him.
She would have let go of the love she had for him, if she could have. Soren understood it.
“Nor can I,” he said. “I do not expect that you should. I would just tell you that I will prove myself to you, if you will give me the chance.”
Ran neither agreed to nor denied his plea. Considering how long she had been convinced he’d betrayed her, it came as no surprise to him. He was also certain that her father added to her anger and humiliation. Erik being involved did not help either. All because Soren had not stood up to her father’s ludicrous demands.
All to protect a man who truly was a heretic and who believed in other gods. Worse, those gods were not as false as they’d been taught to believe.
But she had let Soren close, let him inside her, and she had sought him out for help when her father was in danger. That must mean that there was some chance to rebuild the trust lost. When this was over, there would be time to sort out the rest.
If they survived at all.
Chapter 17
From this height, Ran could see the mysterious mounds scattered all across the land. As Soren took her closer to the slip of land between the two large lakes, she saw that the number of mounds increased. Around Brodgar, she could count at least a dozen. More trailed north to the henge called Bookan. And more spread south toward and around Stenness.
Whatever the reason for them, it was clear that this area was held to be special by the ancient builders who erected these circles of stone and the cairns and mounds around them. Ran had visited most of the larger islands of Orkney and knew that these structures existed on all of them, but none had as many as the Mainland.
Only Kirkwall and the immediate area had none.
This area of the island meant something special. The stone circles and brochs and burial cairns and mounds spoke to it. As did the other darker feelings Ran had when she stood near the edge of Loch Harray, where Einar’s first map marked it with those squares.
Soren set her down near Stenness, where they’d first felt something around them. The two priests were there, examining the stones. They stood and stared as Soren took his human shape again. Ran could not fault them for their curiosity, for it must be extraordinary to see proof of their beliefs right before their eyes.
“Stormblood. Waterblood,” the priests said in voices filled with awe and respect. “How may we serve you?” the older one asked, bowing low before them.
“William said you might help us search for symbols or markings,” Ran said, walking toward them. Soren handed her the map he always held close now and she unfolded it. “Here. And here,” Ran pointed at the two places she was curious about.
“Of course, Waterblood,” the priest said, bowing again. “We will do whatever is required to serve you.”
At first, the bowing and the glances had been complimentary. Now though, they made her uncomfortable, as they also made Soren, if his expression was any indication.
“I pray you, please call me Ran. And this is Soren,” she nodded at him. “And you are called . . . ?”
The astonishment on their faces surprised her. But one priest looked at the other and then back to them, apparently not willing to disobey a descendant of their gods.
“I am called Aleron and this is Kester,” the younger priest offered.
After a few minutes of awkwardness, with the priests continuing to bow at their every word or request, the two grew more at ease with them. The bad feeling was gone now, but the buzzing grew as they neared the stones.
“Do you see that there are ei
ght stones remaining in place, Soren?” she asked him. He glanced around, counting them and studying their places.
“This looks like the same alignment that Einar drew around the chamber. Look how these stones are shaped,” he pointed out. Walking to the middle of the circle, he looked again and nodded. “The one marked with your symbol would be that one,” he indicated the one to the west. “The one that matches mine would be this one.” Soren walked over to that stone.
Ran walked to the one he’d pointed out to her and realized he was correct. Einar had drawn this arrangement in the broch. The low noise grew and she leaned closer to determine whether the sound came from the stone or something else. Ran placed her hands on the stone . . .
...and the world she knew disappeared.
The circle appeared as though freshly hewn and placed on the ground near the lakes. But this land was wider and the lakes smaller in size. Eleven stones stood in place, and people wearing white robes danced around them. Bells and drums filled the air along with the whispered chants and songs of the priests.
Then two priests led a woman into the circle and stood her within a smaller circle of three smaller stones positioned there. She swayed to the beat of the drums, her eyes closed, her arms extended to the sky. The people gathered around the outside of the circle, the music and sounds growing raucous now.
The scene continued before Ran as though she was not there.
Two priestesses led a man into the circle now and stood him before the woman. Ran realized that the woman was drunk, for she seemed unaware of those around her. The priests took hold of her arms and pulled her down to the ground there, stripping the thin gown off her as they did.
She must help her. Ran let go of the stone and made her way to the center where the woman lay writhing on the ground, being stroked by the two men holding her there. Ran shouted but no one seemed to hear her.
Then the priestesses tore off the small garment the man wore around his waist and began to pleasure him with their hands and mouths, until his prick grew long and thick and hard. They led him to the woman. All six fell to the ground, their bodies rubbing and pressing against one another. The people around the circle began chanting some words. As she watched, unable to stop them or make them hear her, the priests and priestesses rose and surrounded the couple still on the ground.
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