“You do not understand, Tolan,” she began, before he silenced her with another kiss, this one more possessive than his last one.
“Nay, I do not understand, what with so many changes in our lives. And with so many portents that are rising. And so many concerns that must be seen to.”
He gathered her close, laying his leg over hers and sliding his hand behind her head to hold her near him. It would have been an uncomfortably close embrace with any other man, but not with him. With Tolan, it felt safe and reassuring. It felt like . . .
“The only thing I know,” he said, meeting her gaze, “is that I love you as well, Thea, and I will not let you go.”
She could not stop the tears then. His words were a soothing balm on her long-abused heart and soul, much as his kisses and caresses appeased her body. All the dreams of her girlhood had been torn asunder during her marriage and she’d not dared to hope that there could be a man like this for her.
“Hush now,” he whispered as he reached up to wipe away her tears. “I would hope you are gladdened by such words.”
“I am, Tolan, but—”
He kissed her into silence then. He kissed her breathless. And then he kissed her in love.
It was a long time before either of them could speak again.
“You are glowing,” she said, realizing that his body gave off the color all the time now.
“And you are shining like the sun,” he replied, tracing one finger down her spine.
“Are we alone in seeing this, Tolan? Do the others not see these changes?”
“I think there are others who can, but not many,” he said. From his tone, he’d revealed something just now to her that he would not freely admit to many, if any, others.
She lifted her head and looked at him. “Here? In Amesbury?”
“Nay, I think not in Amesbury.” He closed his eyes then and she could see them moving behind his eyelids as though watching or searching for something. “But those who can are close. Very close.”
“Who are they?” she asked, sitting at his side.
“Some are for good and others are for evil. Our task will be harder now.” His eyes yet glowed when he opened them and his voice sounded very strange to her ears when he spoke them—almost as though it was no longer him. “We must get to Durrington soon.”
Then it was just him—his eyes and voice returned to what she was used to—and he took her in his arms and held her there for the rest of the night.
When he slipped out, she knew not, but she woke to an empty pallet. Touching the place where he’d been, she found it still warm and knew he’d left not long ago.
It mattered not this morn, for he had spoken the words she’d never thought to hear and had spoken her own to him. No matter what came next, she would hold that in her heart.
No matter what.
* * *
Tolan made his way around her cottage before walking back to his own. Something had changed within him this night. Oh, not just that he’d declared his heart to her, but also something in this new power shifted and released.
He could feel the weight of two approaching groups on the earth around him. One, or two, came from the south, from Christchurch, and would arrive within a day. The other came from the southeast, from the coastal city of Southampton.
And power exuded from both groups. One being of great power from the southeast traveling at a brutal pace. A number of them coming from the south but separated by distance and time.
Time had run out for him. For them. They must learn as much as they could about their newly risen powers, and the one place he knew he must search was the hidden place on his land. With Thea at his side, they would uncover it and seek out the truth.
A crackle of brush behind him reminded Tolan of his follower. He walked to the enclosed garden and stood in the silent darkness. His presence here was no surprise to anyone now. The few people in the village who might not have known about him and Thea did now after his public display and after he’d welcomed her to his home with Kirwyn present. It had claimed her more effectively than even the words he’d spoken to her a few hours ago had.
He stared at the ground, and his blood began to heat and his hands itched. The soil needed to be turned and readied. It called to whatever lived within him now. Usually, to use the ritual, he needed to thrust his hands into the ground, but something told him that was not necessary.
Tolan focused his thoughts on the cold, hard earth and urged it to move. Urged it to turn. Urged it to accept the seed and the water and the sunlight that was coming to it soon.
As he watched, the soil began to churn by itself, each section of her garden readied itself. But no hoe or plow or other tool was used this time. Tolan only had to think of it and the earth there did his bidding. In a short time, the smell of freshly tilled soil filled the air around him.
He wanted to laugh aloud, but it would draw the close attention of his watcher to this patch of land. And it would raise questions in that man’s mind and he would take them back to his lord. Tolan could not risk such attention, so he offered up thanks silently before walking off to his own cottage. And wondering with each stride what other abilities lay within him since this gift awakened.
If he could move the earth with his thoughts, what could Thea do if the power of the sun’s healing light dwelled within her? Could she heal the most grievous of injuries or illnesses? That kind of thing would be dangerous if witnessed. Cries of witchery would be made and every sort of authority would be called in to investigate.
Tolan stopped and stood still for a moment. As though the very earth beneath his feet shifted, he understood that nothing in his life or in the lives of those around him would ever be the same again. Those who traveled here brought with them some kind of reckoning that the whole of mankind would face. Good and evil would stand at odds unlike any other time in memory, and whatever fueled his power would be called to choose.
He smiled grimly then. That was an easy choice. For never would he stand on evil’s side against good.
A chill wind cut through the trees and sliced into him. He shivered against its touch and wondered if he would come to regret his words . . . or his choice when it was all over.
In this moment, the only thing he knew was that they would leave at night. This night. He would leave horses saddled and ready over on the other road and leave from Thea’s cottage. They could be on his lands by dawn on the morrow.
They would need all the time they could find to prepare themselves and their loved ones for the coming darkness.
CHAPTER 10
Amesbury Abbey
Corann stood at the back of the church and stared in wonderment at the accomplishments of those who designed and built it. Decades of living on their remote isle had not prepared him for places such as this. The ones worshipped here were much newer and younger than the gods he and his followers worshipped. And clearly they demanded much gold from those who served them. Or him? Corann shook his head at the idea of saying there was only one God, though he knew Father Ander believed it true.
Nay, Corann’s gods and goddesses needed no resplendent churches or costly vestments. His needed only the awesome places in nature—the water, the sky, the earth, the plants and trees—to find them. They inhabited all of nature and could be found there with no more than a thought or prayer.
The Catholic priest noticed him and walked quickly to his side. His friend still wore the robes of his calling and carried out his own rituals even while being content at learning his place in Corann’s faith. A priest of one or many seemed to matter not to Ander.
“The prior said we could set up our camp in the fields across the river,” Ander said. “The abbey owns many manor houses and acres of land around here.”
“Did you tell him how many were here?” Corann asked, walking at Ander’s side out of the darkened church. He shivered at th
e cool dampness that seemed to inhabit this God’s dwellings. He would always prefer the gatherings in the woods under the warmth of the sun.
“I may have underestimated our numbers a bit, friend,” Ander whispered as he nodded at several of his Christian brethren as they passed. “With the recent largesse of the king on behalf of his daughter’s presence here, the prior is quite elated at the attention being brought to their abbey and church. Our gift was cheerfully accepted on behalf of our patrons.”
Although the consequences of the evil goddess’s escape would be felt by all of mankind, the Warriors had decided to keep their intentions out of the view of the authorities. At least as much as they could.
Certainly there would be stories told in Scotland and Orkney about the strange bands of fighting men traveling there. Especially when the unexplainable sights and sounds at those stone circles were reported by witnesses. Father Ander had tried to forestall some of it by sending a letter to his bishop in Kirkwall, but no plausible explanation existed for standing stones that grew and sang . . . or for the otherworldly powers that some people manifested.
“Has Aislinn revealed anything of import?” Ander asked as they hurried back to where the others had gathered.
“She has dreamt . . .” Corann could say no more, for there were too many near enough to hear his words. And no one was more suspicious than those who served this one God. “We will speak anon.”
Aislinn had been trained by the best and most experienced amongst their community and was the strongest seer in generations. Some whispered in all time. Her scrying skills were superb and her dreams foretold the future more accurately than anyone in their community. This power took its toll on one so young. The recent death, the murder of her teacher and foster father, had almost destroyed her. Only the support of the others gathered more lately to their cause and her faith in their gods and goddesses kept her strong.
As they made their way through the thriving religious community, Corann thought about his own dreams and prayed they were nothing but his fears put into the imagery of sleep. He saw the small group who’d accompanied them here ahead and waved.
“Well,” Ander began, “we are the first pilgrims of the season now that the weather has broken. The prior was quite impressed with your background, Sir William, and your gift.”
“As I said, it would come in handily,” their leader said gruffly. Though he wore a hood pulled low over his brow, it was unnerving when their gazes met. The red eyes of Sucellus, the god of war, stared back. “Any word of the others?”
“No others from Normandy or Brittany have arrived here since the autumn,” Ander reported. “I expect that is how they will be recognized, so I asked about them.”
“I do not think they will seek out these sacred places,” Corann added. “Smaller ones mayhap,” he explained, “like that round kirk in Orphir.” Ander shuddered at the mention. “But not like this.” He motioned at the huge church behind them. “Filled with godly people who might recognize the great evil who lives within him. Nay, he may be arrogant, but he is not stupid.”
“Nay, not stupid,” Ander repeated with another shudder. His friend had spent days being tortured and broken at the hands of their enemy, Hugh de Gifford. Ander knew the man’s mind better than anyone amongst their group.
“Corann.”
He turned at the call of his name. Aislinn approached from the group of wagons and horses with her shadow at her back. Now it was Corann’s turn to shudder.
Though he had pledged his loyalty to his own niece, de Gifford’s natural daughter, Brienne, Brisbois—the torturer—had spent most of his life in his brother’s service. Doing just that—breaking bones and anything else that his brother told him to do. Corann had been the target of his techniques and nearly died. Any and every encounter with the huge brute of a man left Corann trembling from the painful reminders of his attentions that yet troubled his limbs.
“Aislinn. How do you fare?” he asked as the girl walked to his side. He turned his back on the other, unable to look upon him without revulsion.
“The dreams are clearer now, my friend. And they are closer, much closer now.”
She glanced at William, who nodded. Those descended from the gods could sense each other in some way. Aislinn could as well. They thought it because of her priestly skills, but Corann knew better. Marcus had told him much before he’d left to face death on their behalf.
“What do they tell you, Aislinn?” William asked. “Can you tell which of the bloodlines are here? Did the drawings tell us rightly?”
“The prophecy spoke of the caretaker and the bringer of life. The drawings showed the symbols of the earthblood and sunblood opposite of each other in the circle. It seems to confirm who we are searching for here.” Corann nodded. “Ander, we will need you to ask about in Amesbury about someone skilled in the healing arts. Especially a woman who aids in childbirth, a midwife.” Ander nodded.
“Have Ran and Soren arrived yet?” Corann asked of William. “They may be able to seek out the place more easily.”
“An outrider said they will join us in about five hours,” William said. “Come. Let us return to our camp and see to our task.”
Corann both anticipated and dreaded the coming night. Once the others arrived, they must form a new bond so that they would be connected during their coming battle against the evil one and her followers. The priests who had come from the isle to the west had always been in communion with each other, but that bond had been severed when de Gifford began kidnapping priests to torture information from them. As had been done to Corann.
In his wisdom, Marcus had formed a link only with Aislinn, William the Warblood, Brienne the Fireblood, and William’s man, Roger. When he made the decision to sacrifice himself to save Ander, Marcus had been able to close himself off from that link. Now, in his absence, the others must reconnect and bring in the newest warriors—Ran and Soren.
As they made their way to the outskirts of Amesbury, William stopped and nodded for Corann to come away from the others. When they were several paces behind, William spoke.
“I know that it is still so soon, but will you be able to work with him?” the warrior asked him.
Corann let out a breath and watched as Brisbois dogged the footsteps of the seer. “I am trying. Truly I am,” he said. “But every time I see him there, I can feel the blows,” Corann admitted, rubbing his hands up and down on his arms.
He had not just been beaten by the man; he had been exquisitely tortured by him. Whipped, sliced, and pummeled for days to get information about the other priests. Killed step by step and kept alive by only the demented skill of his attacker. And saved only when rescued by William.
“Brienne swears he is true to her and her alone. She gives her word as his bond, Corann.”
When one of the gods’ descendants gave her word to a mere human priest, it should be enough. Corann struggled with this hesitation as a test of his own faith. If he was worthy to lead them in this quest, he should be able to accept the fireblood’s word and move past his own limitations. “I pray daily for the strength to accept his presence with us.”
“In the end, I think it will be our faith, that good should triumph, that will get us through, Corann,” William said.
Faith. It would be their success or failure. And after the terrible dreams and seeing his failure in them, Corann knew he must pray and seek guidance.
“I see the pain in your face, Corann. Forgive me for not thinking. Let me call for one of the wagons to wait for you.”
He had seen the pain, but misread its cause. Corann decided to use it.
“I am well enough, William,” he said, waving off the younger man. “I saw a grove of trees just back there. I wish to sit and pray there.”
“And rest your legs?” William asked. Corann nodded. “Should I send someone back for you when the others arrive? I know how Marcus alway
s got lost in his prayers and forgot that others existed.”
“I will make my way back.”
“You are certain?” William’s red gaze narrowed and Corann could swear the man was sniffing the air for some scent.
Without breaking away, Corann nodded and the warrior left him there. He let out a breath and turned back toward the abbey.
The thought had struck him as they spoke about his injuries. Bringer of life. A healer for certain. And one man would be much less obvious than their troop making its way across these lands. And he had hours before the others would arrive. For the first time, Corann felt hope and as though he had something specific he could do.
All it took was a story about needing a midwife for his dear sister to find help and a ride from a local man going north to the village of Lord Geoffrey of Amesbury. A short while later and sooner than he’d thought possible, Corann found himself facing a woman who carried the healing power of the sun in her blood.
* * *
Thea had faced the day in a much lighter mood than she’d had in days. It could be the emotions swirling in her heart or the passion they’d shared—she knew and cared not. All she knew was that everything seemed brighter to her.
The sight of her garden, completely prepared and tilled, made her laugh aloud. Tolan must have done it after he left. A way to try out his new abilities mayhap. All she knew was that what would have taken her days to do was done.
She gazed down at her hands, the only part of her body not covered, and saw the golden haze of her skin. It did not ebb and flow, something different from before, though so far none of the villagers she’d encountered mentioned it.
The other thing that had somehow changed overnight was the way she saw others. At first glance, they appeared the same as they had always been, but she could now see deeper into them. Her gaze could peer through their garments and even through their skin and see the body there.
And the injuries or illnesses. She struggled not to stare as she spoke to her neighbors that morning, the damage and deterioration so very clear to her.
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