Corann stopped now before a young woman, and before Thea could greet her or speak a word, the woman dropped to her knees and touched her forehead on the edge of Thea’s gown.
“Sunblood,” she whispered.
The pain that this young woman carried within her cried out to Thea. It took but a glance to tell that it was physical pain borne out of profound grief and loss. Before she knew what to do or say, she reached down and lifted the woman to stand. Suddenly, she knew her name was Aislinn and that she had lost the only man she considered her father. And his name was . . .
“Marcus gave his life in service to us and is blessed forever for his sacrifice, Aislinn,” she said in another’s voice. Her body heated and changed then, light bursting forth as she held on to this woman. “Remember him well. Honor his memory by remembering all he taught you.” The rest was for her ears only, so Thea leaned in and whispered, “Aislinn of Cork, Marcus believed in you when he took you in and raised you. You are also blessed and will stand against evil. Be strong in this. He is always in your heart and in your soul.”
When Thea released her, she realized that everyone was staring at her and Aislinn. Some, those without power, shielded their eyes as though a light too bright to watch had been shining there. Aislinn . . . how had she known this woman’s name? Aislinn’s eyes, now the color of moon glow, stared at her now and nodded at whatever words Thea had spoken to her. Stranger still, Thea did not recall everything she’d said.
The pain was gone from the young woman now. Oh, grief remained, for her loss had been great and terrible, but that would take time.
“Praise be!” Aislinn whispered before stepping away and moving aside.
Silence, a complete silence in which only the sounds of nature around them were heard, descended on the whole encampment then. She looked around and found shock, astonishment, and reverence in every gaze that met hers.
Sunblood. Praise be. The healing power of the sun. Belenus.
The words repeated and followed her every step until they reached a small clearing at the other side of the camp. Only the four others said nothing and watched her with compassion and understanding in their eyes. They trod the same path on which she and Tolan were embarking—from a simple person to something else. She could never imagine herself as a god or even one descended from that. When their small group that now also included several of the warriors stopped and a stool was offered to her, she asked her first question.
“Who was Belenus? I heard that name as I passed them by.” She looked at each of them and then Corann answered her.
“Belenus is the god of life and order and healing. His touch is seen to be that of the sun’s light on everything around us.”
She nodded and thought on this knowledge. It made sense with everything she knew from Tolan and had experienced herself. But Tolan did not know much about the ancient ones, who had long since been relegated to a group of deities and had lost their individual names by his own ancestors. Cernunnos he knew. The other names he did not.
“Are you are each descended from others?” she asked.
“I am waterblood, from the goddess Nantosuelta,” said Ran, the Norse woman.
“And I stormblood. From Taranis,” Soren, the Norse man, said.
“Sucellus, the god of war,” William de Brus said. “Warblood.”
That left only Brienne, his wife.
“I am a fireblood, like my father and the goddess he worships,” Brienne said softly. “Saying her name upsets the priests, so I avoid it.”
Thea could feel the fear in those listening and understood.
“Do you know the earthblood?” Aislinn asked. Everyone looked at Thea with an air of expectancy. She’d agreed with Tolan not to share more than was necessary, but they already knew his power.
“How did you know there would be an earthblood here?” she asked back.
“There were drawings made by my grandfather that showed your symbol and that of the earthblood’s,” Soren said.
“And the prophecy speaks of a caretaker and a bringer of life,” Aislinn said. “If you are the bringer of life, then the earthblood is the caretaker.”
“That is logical,” William added.
“Not that logic always works in this, William,” Father Ander said. “Sometimes it is with faith alone that we must tread along.”
“Do you know the earthblood?” Aislinn repeated her question.
“I do,” she said on a sigh. “I know the earthblood.”
“And does he know you as well?” William asked. Thea understood why he’d asked it of her. Though peasants and villagers might be fully aware of the nobles they served, it was very possible that it might not be the same way round.
“Aye,” she said. Brienne knew first, Thea saw it in her expression. Then Aislinn and Ran. The men, well, they were being men and did not.
“We should meet with both of you,” Brienne said. “There is much to discuss and plans to make if we are to defeat my father.”
“You would do such a thing? Against your own father?” Thea asked. “None of the gods I saw were . . .” She had let her inhibitions go lax and had spoken of something better not shared. The others glanced one at the other until the Norse woman spoke.
“When I touched the stones at an ancient circle, I saw a ceremony. A fertility ritual,” Ran said.
Thea could not stop herself from touching her hand to her heated cheek at the memory of what she’d seen and felt.
“It ended in sacrifice.”
Thea nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“The gods with whom we share a bloodline were capricious and demanding,” Soren said. Though Corann bristled, he continued. “They demanded service and sacrifice back when they lived here among us and even now.”
“Sacrifice?” Thea asked. Surely not.
“We have lost many, in this battle against evil. Some died in the fighting, but others were sacrificed or offered up their own lives,” William said. “My father,” he began.
“And mine,” Ran added.
“Friends and loved ones,” Brienne said. “My mother, I suspect, was a victim of my father’s aims.”
“And faithful followers,” Aislinn said.
“Your Marcus,” Thea found herself adding. She’d seen the man’s death in Aislinn’s pain.
“If my father succeeds and he releases the goddess, thousands and thousands more will die.” At Brienne’s words, the priests began to chant, soft and low, but clearly praying that it would not happen. “So we must do everything in our power to stop him . . . and her.”
Thea met each of their gazes then, the ones who carried the bloodlines, Father Ander, Corann, and the soldiers, and knew they spoke the truth. She knew they were trying to save humankind from a terrible evil. One that even Tolan’s ancestors had been warned about and one that the circles on his lands kept away . . . or within. She nodded. “His name is Tolan.”
CHAPTER 15
They’d arrived back in Amesbury village before dark and in time to stop Farold from returning to the cottage. Once he’d made arrangements for Kirwyn and Farold to hide from sight among various barns and outbuildings, he and Thea had sought their own refuge and slept for a few hours. Though his son initially argued, Tolan convinced him to follow his instructions for two days before leaving his hiding place and seeking him out.
The night passed in a flurry of furtive discussions and bouts of bed play. As though they both accepted that the next days would be dangerous for everyone they knew and loved, Tolan could not stop touching her. Even after she had drained him and he had exhausted her, he kept his hands on her body, drawing her close through the night, memorizing every inch of her. What he would remember most were the words spoken between them—a vow of love that he would hold on to until after they faced this reckoning ahead of them.
Tolan could not deny it—he ha
d a terrible feeling about how this would play out. If he believed all the stories told to him over the years, this was not simply a family tradition but a war waged between good and evil. And he and his family had been and would be part of the eventual outcome.
By the time the sun rose above the horizon, they were on their way to the abbey, taking a circuitous route to avoid being seen. Thea convinced him that there would be no danger in meeting with the man on the sacred ground of the abbey, and Tolan trusted her judgment. So they decided together that she would meet with Corann and discover what she could about the others while he accepted the invitation issued by Lord Geoffrey’s guest to learn what he could.
Thea going separately worried Tolan, but it could not be helped. And, though Geoffrey might speak her name, Tolan did not want the fireblood to see and know her yet.
She might be safe longer . . . .
Even now, as he approached the gateway in the wall surrounding the keep, he thought on the way Thea’s brow gathered in close as he explained the history of his family as he knew it. Never did she scoff or mock. Her questions were logical and probing and made him think on things long-ago forgotten. Stories told by his grandfather’s father. Bits of tales about the battle between good and evil.
He could not be certain if finding her was part of some larger plan of the Fates or the gods, but he was thankful he had found her, for facing this challenge with her at his side made him feel as though they could win.
Tolan rode by the group of foreign soldiers who’d arrived with the fireblood. They did not react to his approach, so he passed by and nodded to the guards above the gate. He’d traveled this path countless times in his life and yet this time it was all so different. He noticed the other men camped within the walls now. He tried to count the number of the soldiers as he went through the yard. Too soon he was at the steps leading into the keep.
He felt the fireblood then, an awareness or disturbance in his thoughts, and his body told him of the other man’s nearness. With each pace he took, the sensations grew stronger. There had been an awareness of Thea and yet it was completely different from what he now felt passing through him. Tolan cleared his thoughts of her and made his way into the great hall.
He had expected someone who looked less like a man, like a demon of some sort, and he was wrong. The man sitting in Lord Geoffrey’s chair at the high table looked like most noblemen Tolan had encountered or seen in his life. Well, if truth be told, this man was wealthier and more powerful than any he’d seen.
The blast of heat came out of nowhere and Tolan struggled to remain upright in the face of it. By no change of expression or movement of his body did the man give any sign that it came from him. The fireblood’s eyes glowed with an unholy light for a few moments and then the heat dissipated and his eyes changed to what most would see—except that they were an unusual amber color.
Tolan walked closer, waiting for another attack, but none came and he soon stood below the dais before the two nobles. He paused before meeting the man’s gaze and bowed as he would be expected to do. He waited then, hands clenched in anticipation.
“Tolan,” Lord Geoffrey called out. “Come. Have you broken your fast?”
A warm welcome was not what Tolan had expected. He shook his head and climbed up the five steps to the table where the men sat waiting. Finally, he raised his gaze.
“Lord Hugh is my kinsman from Normandy,” Lord Geoffrey said, waving Tolan to a seat on his right. “He said he encountered you on the road north of here.”
“My lord,” Tolan said, bowing once more before accepting the proffered place. “I thank you for this consideration.”
Once he was seated, the servants brought him a bowl in which to wash his hands, a custom he knew. Then a trencher and a cup of ale were placed before him and soon filled with a hearty porridge and several others dishes. The conversation was light and mostly about farming as Lord Geoffrey touted Tolan’s abilities to his kinsman. There was a short discussion about the fecundity of his lands over time and even some murmurings about making an offer to buy them. Lord Hugh added a few well-placed questions about the length and breadth of Tolan’s lands, but otherwise allowed Lord Geoffrey to continue talking. Finally, after they’d eaten, Lord Hugh made his move.
“Cousin, I wish to speak to your man . . . alone,” he began. “With your permission, of course.”
If Lord Geoffrey thought it strange, he gave no sign of it. Rather, Tolan suspected this whole meeting had been arranged step by step well in advance of his arrival in the hall this morn. And that Lord Hugh was the one in control of all of this, including his cousin.
“Certainly,” Lord Geoffrey said. “I will wait on your return here.”
Lord Hugh stood and so did Tolan, for it was a practice and a courtesy first learned as a child. Tolan waited for him to walk past and then followed him, anxious now to learn the truth of this matter. But, instead of going into one or another of the chambers leading off the hall, or even going outside into the yard, Lord Hugh led him up the stairway and high into the north tower. Soon, they reached the top and Lord Hugh opened the door that led to the battlements of the keep. The guards there saw who had arrived and left, pulling the door closed tightly behind themselves.
Tolan watched as the nobleman separated himself and walked around the perimeter, stopping several times to peer off into the distance. Was he preparing himself to attack Tolan again? How could he battle fire and heat? Certainly not by becoming a tree or plant. So he would have to change into something of the earth. His gaze had begun to fringe with green when Lord Hugh faced him.
“I did not expect to find another descendant whose family had kept faith with the Old Ones.”
Whatever he had expected, these words surprised Tolan. “My lord?”
“Come, now, we can dispense with the disingenuous words, can we not? My family has passed their faith down through countless generations, as yours has. If they had not, neither of us would be where we are now.”
“And where would that be, my lord?” Tolan asked, crossing his hands over his chest.
“Our blood has risen. Our powers are growing. We are preparing to open the gateway so we can worship our rightful goddess.” Lord Hugh raised an eyebrow, challenging him to disclaim his words.
“I was raised only to protect the lands, my lord. I know nothing of a plan to open a gateway. Or of the goddess you speak of.”
And he spoke the truth—he did not. The stories passed to him had told only of good and evil. Of protecting all the lands but especially those now possessed by his family. Of waiting for the time to come.
“I think you speak the truth,” Lord Hugh said after studying him for a few moments. “Then let me tell you of our history and the great quest that lies ahead for us and our kind.”
* * *
Could he speak honestly with him?
By the strength of the spells placed on the lands that were held by his family, Hugh thought Tolan would have been fully versed in their ways and practices. The knowledge of their true natures and the extent of their powers. The worship of the Old Ones and their warnings.
Instead, this man appeared to have gained use of his powers without being fully taught. The fertility of the lands under his care could not have occurred by luck or offhand chances. As his cousin had explained, the records kept for hundreds of years demonstrated Tolan’s family’s successes here on this land. Hugh had no doubt that it went back and back even further to times long before records, long before Normans or Saxons, before the ancient Romans.
So Hugh chose his words carefully now, knowing this was one way of getting everything he needed with nothing but a conversation.
“Our ancestors worshipped the old gods who existed since the dawn of time. You know that much,” he began. “But when one goddess, Chaela, questioned their ways and their excesses among their human followers, she was attacked. Only by banding t
ogether did the others overp—imprison her. She lies in an abyss, deep within the earth and yet existing in another place. As her descendant, I seek a gateway to that prison.”
“And that is what lies on my lands? Beneath the soil?” Tolan asked him.
Hugh kept to the truth as much as possible, for it was far easier than concocting and keeping to too many lies. “Aye. There are four of them, each surrounded or disguised by a circle of standing stones,” Hugh explained. “Is there a circle within the barrier?”
“More than one,” the earthblood answered. “But buried deep beneath the surface now.”
“Have you seen the circles? Walked among them?” Hugh asked.
“Nay,” Tolan said, shaking his head. He glanced off in the distance. “I think I may have when I was a small child. I think I did. . . .” So this one’s father or grandfather had held enough power to move the earth? He must succeed with this man.
“Opening any of them would free her,” Hugh said. “But two descendants of different bloodlines must perform the ceremony to open a gate.”
“This is the first one you have attempted, then?”
Hugh tried to practice the patience he’d learned at his father’s hand. He could feel the strength within this one and knew this earthblood could conquer lands and destroy cities with the flick of his hand. Mountains could be leveled. Palaces brought to ground. And Hugh desperately wanted him at his side and not against him. After all, Cernunnos had created the prison with but his thoughts alone and surely he could destroy it the same way?
“Nay. We have tried two others, but the descendants of the other gods sealed both of them first. They do not know that in the eons that have passed, Chaela has learned the lesson the Old Ones meant to teach her in this. She is ready to take her place here among them as they wanted her to do so long ago. As the descendant of Cernunnos, you have the ability to open this gateway.”
Tolan watched him closely as he spoke, so Hugh kept a placid expression on his face. He must convince not only the earthblood but also the sunblood to aid him in this. Geoffrey had spoken of Tolan’s connection to the village healer, and Hugh knew she must be the other one he sought.
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