Clicking her beak, she tilted her head as she appraised them. Callan bowed low and took a step back.
Taking a deep breath, Charlotte said, “Rona, I'm Charlotte MacAidh, Taran's daughter in law. He told us we could find you here, we really need your help.”
The falcon fluffed her feathers and studied her further.
“There's a warlock, he's…” she paused, swallowing hard. “He's taken our son.”
The bird let out a shriek and took off, circling the house.
Charlotte slumped her shoulders and sighed. As she turned to Callan, the door creaked open. She turned and walked toward the house.
“Quickly,” snapped the voice as she stepped inside.
Callan followed, removing his jacket and hanging it on a stand by the door. Charlotte did the same and surveyed the room. It was small but functional. A worn sofa faced the fire place on the right-hand wall, a matching armchair at right angles to it. The stone walls were hung with dried flowers, animal pelts and faded watercolor paintings in rickety frames. In a corner was a chest covered with a hand crochet blanket, a stuffed cat curled on top as if asleep. Oil lamps hung from the beams along the ceiling providing enough light to see by but leaving the corners gloomy. The small windows did little to help illuminate the space.
Looking back to the fire, she gasped. Perched on a small stool, warming its hairy feet by the fire, sat a small creature she had no name for. Callan gently settled his hand on her lower back as she started, “He's a Brownie.”
“Okay,” she whispered.
Callan stepped forward, holding out a hand to the odd little man. “A gift. From Avalon”
Squinting, the creature turned to him, leaving the stool and examining the small jar he held in his hand.
“Honey, from the palace gardens, please, take it as thanks for your hospitality,” Callan said kindly.
The Brownie grinned and gently took the jar, bowing. “You're too kind, Prince Callan,” he rasped. “My lady,” he added, turning to her.
“Erm, you're welcome… do you have a name?”
“Ezra,” Rona said from behind her. “I'll put the kettle on.”
The woman shuffled into the room.
She was old, Charlotte noted. She was barely able to move her feet, let alone lift the heavy iron kettle from the hearth to the fire. “Allow me,” Callan offered, taking the kettle and hanging it on a hook within the fireplace.
“What brings you to my door, Prince Callan? A warlock, yes. A missing child, yes. But why my door? There are other Seers.”
“You know why, Rona,” he said, smiling. “Dane sends his regards.” He took a seat
She chuckled then, “Charlotte, be a dear and bring the cups and milk from the kitchen.”
Charlotte nodded, surprised at her sudden involvement, and stepped into the room to her left. A tray was set for four.
“Milk,” the little man grumbled, handing her a glass bottle.
Able to fully take him in, Charlotte smiled. He was small, no more than two feet tall, with a thick thatch of curly brown hair. His skin was a deep chestnut brown, that looked too big for his small frame, and set in deep wrinkles that resembled tree bark with a light covering of curly hair. His eyes, a shimmering gold, were small with no brows to frame them. He wore light shirt and trousers but no shoes.
“Thank you,” she said, accepting the milk. “Did you know we were coming?”
“Of course, she did,” he spat, taking the tray in his gnarly hands and waddling into the living room.
“Thank you, Ezra, Charlotte please sit down.” Rona watched her from the armchair as she entered the living room. “Would you pour, Ezra?”
Taking the seat beside Callan, closest to Rona, she sat awkwardly. “I'm really sorry to turn up unannounced,” she began.
Rona waved a wrinkled hand, “Taran wouldn't have given you the stone unless it was important, dear.” She held out her hand, expectant.
Charlotte looked at the stone briefly before gently placing it in the old woman's waiting palm. The way it shone in the dim light, it's pearlescent blue sheen was captivating.
“How long has he been gone?” she asked.
Ezra handed her a cup and saucer, she thanked him and sipped the tea.
Tell her everything, tell the truth.
“Two days, they snatched him from school. We had no idea, we were in Avalon. We've searched everywhere. We have half of Houska here searching, Fae and Druids. He's just vanished,” she explained, her eyes brimming with tears.
Rona nodded. “Callan, I need some things from Avalon. Would you mind?” Her eyes shone as she looked at him.
Is there some sort of in joke I'm missing?
“Not at all, I assume you have a list?” he asked, tilting his head.
“By the door. Thank you,” she said, dismissing him.
He kissed Charlotte on the cheek, murmuring, “I won't be long.”
When he'd gone, Rona let out a sigh, “He's always been a good boy, Callan.” She turned the moonstone over in her fingers, rubbed it with her thumb. “I can't promise to find him. There are no definite answers. I can give clues, if they come, but they're your riddle to solve.”
Charlotte nodded, “I understand. I'm, we're grateful for any help you can give us.”
Rona smiled, her thin lips stretching to show her yellow, stained teeth. “Very well,” she said, leaning back in the armchair and sipping her tea, the stone still in her palm. “Tell me about him.”
Charlotte didn't know where to start, so she started at the beginning. She told her everything there was to know about Zander, just as she had that first evening when Callan had found her. More, she had more now. She told her about the real Zander, the Zander who would talk, explain, laugh and joke. The Zander who welcomed new people into his life without anxiety, who had a family, friends and power. The power to move the earth, to build mountains and shatter rock.
Pausing to sip her tea, she realised the old woman had fallen asleep. Her chin rested on her chest, slow, steady breaths the only indication that she hadn't simply passed on. Charlotte reached over and gently moved the saucer from its precarious perch on her knee and sat back. Waiting.
Okay, now what? Where did Ezra go?
The old clock on the mantle chimed the half hour and Rona woke up.
“Search my mind, Charlotte. The information you seek is there,” she said softly, the sudden sound of her voice startling Charlotte.
Collecting herself, Charlotte shook her head. Rona insisted, “Now dear, I'm old and tired. Please, look, take what you need.”
Without speaking, Charlotte sent her power into the old woman's mind. Gently stroking, probing and embracing until images, feelings and sensations rushed at her.
Water, waves.
Heat, searing heat, the glint of a blue stone, the moonstone, silver on shining black.
Cold and dark. Darker, damp, shadows.
Shining silver eyes, hope, love, the sound of the wind.
Moving shadows, changing shape.
A glint, flash of silver light. Blood, pooling, warm and sticky.
Fear. Hopelessness. Darkness.
Supple, mauve leather, darkness.
The night sky, darkness, black, stars, the moon.
Pulling back, dragging herself away from the woman's thoughts, Charlotte glared. Ezra handed her a fresh cup of tea and settled on his stool by the fire.
“I'm sorry, that was all I could See,” Rona said when she'd recovered.
“I'm sure that's lots to work on, Rona. Thank you, so much,” Charlotte said, taking her hand. Her skin was paper thin, mottled with brown patches where age had left its mark, but soft.
Rona smiled and said, “I have a small task for you. Here,” handing back the moonstone. “Ezra, could you bring the box please?”
Charlotte looked at her quizzically.
“I would like you to split it in half, round the two pieces off.”
“Why?” she asked, simply.
How does s
he know I can do this?
“I won't be looking again. It's of no use to me, or anyone else, for scrying now. So, please, split it.” She turned her attention to Ezra as he handed her a small wooden box.
Closing her hand around the stone, Charlotte closed her eyes. When she opened it again, two perfectly round moonstones sat in her palm. Rona had opened the box and pulled out a delicate silver chain. It could have been a charm bracelet but the only adornment was a spherical filigree pendent.
“This is for you,” Rona said, opening the clasp and offering the bracelet to her. “Give me your wrist.”
Charlotte frowned as Rona fastened the bracelet and opened the pendent, and said, “A stone, please.” She placed the stone inside and closed it. “For good fortune,” she said as she patted Charlotte's hand and gave her a toothy grin. “Goodness radiates from you, Charlotte. That is the key.”
There was a knock on the door and Callan entered, closing the door firmly behind him he said, “Everything on the list, Rona. In the kitchen?”
“Yes please,” she smiled.
Charlotte sat back on the sofa, considering what Rona had meant. Callan sat beside her, a hand on her knee.
“Give Callan the other stone, Charlotte,” she said, handling a long chain like the one she'd placed around her wrist. “Pop that in there, Callan. This is for you. For good fortune, as I told Charlotte.” She held Callan's gaze for a long moment. With a grateful smile at the old woman, he bowed his head and placed the chain around his neck.
“Never take them off.” There was a warning in her tone that charlotte found puzzling. Callan simply nodded.
“We really must go, Rona. Thank you, for everything,” he said, then leaned over and gently kissed her cheek.
She smiled and patted his hand. “I wish you luck. Send my love to Dane and your father. Charlotte,” she looked past Callan and smiled. “Remember, the key. You may need some help, don't be afraid to ask for it.”
Ezra stepped to Rona's side as Callan Straightened and took Charlotte by the hand. Closing the door behind them, they walked until they had left the croft several feet behind. They turned to watch as it faded from view.
The weather had worsened while they'd been indoors.
“Anything?” Callan asked.
“I have something. No idea what it means. I need to work it out,” she said over the howling wind.
He nodded. “You need peace. A long bath, think it through. We'll go home, to the palace. I can gather reports while you have a soak.”
Wrapping one arm around her waist, he took her hand in the other. Pausing, he noticed the glimmer of the moonstone in its silver filigree case and frowned.
“What?” she asked, lifting her hand to look at the shimmering stone.
“Nothing,” he muttered and took her home.
Chapter 27
The bath filled behind her, Callan pouring in oils to help her relax. Wrapped in a towel, she peered at herself in the mirror, frowning at the dark circles beneath her eyes.
How did you get here, Charlotte?
Callan was watching her as he ran his hand through the hot water.
“How long will you be?” she asked.
“Not long. I'll bring Enya back with me and we'll have lunch together before we decide on what to do. Is there anything I can get you while I'm out?” he asked, drying his hands.
She shook her head, hands resting on the sink, and closed her eyes. Callan gently wrapped his arms around her waist and she turned, resting her head on his chest.
He lifted her chin with a finger, kissing her gently. She pressed into him, kissing him more deeply, desperate to feel something, anything other than the despair that had stealthily taken hold.
As he lifted her, sitting her on the vanity, tears streamed down her face. Callan didn't pull away. With one hand buried in her hair, the other pressing into the small of her back, he obliged her, providing what she needed.
As her sobs took over, he trailed his kisses to her bare shoulder and held her.
When her tears subsided, he slid her towel away and carried her to the waiting bath. Without a word, he lowered her into the water, kissed her tenderly and left her.
She watched him walk away, his head down, his usually square shoulders sagging. She heard his heavy sigh as he closed the bathroom door.
Think, Charlotte. You can find Zander if you think. You can take Callan's pain away if you find him. Then he can do what he does best. He's a warrior, this is killing him, he isn't designed to sit and wait. Make sense of it. Give him something.
Sinking back, the hot water and viscous oils Callan had added enveloped her. With her eyes closed, she pictured everything Rona had showed her.
The waves, the sea. How they took him.
The searing heat. Fire, but whose? Mine? Callan's?
The stones, blue and moonstone. What do they mean? Obviously, my jewelry, but why?
Despite the heat of the water she shivered, cold, dark, damp. Where is this? Is this where they have Zander?
A sound filled her head, one that she couldn't place. An odd, steady beat.
The moon, darkness, the stars, darkness. What has the sky got to do with anything?
The darkness seemed endless. Then, a pair of violet eyes peered back at her. Dane? No, those aren't Dane's eyes. His are silver. Lukas? No, his are softer.
Why can't I figure this out?
She dipped her head beneath the water, rubbing her hands through her hair.
Ask for help.
She scrambled from the bath, dragging a towel with her as she rushed into the bedroom. Callan was gone, so she grasped her phone and tapped out a message.
I need to see your Father, it's important. We'll be in our suite at 2pm. Please.
I'll see to it.
Enya ran to her when Callan brought her home. “Daddy says you're closer to finding Zander,” she said.
“We are,” she smiled. “What shall we have for lunch?”
Enya shrugged. “Don't know.”
“Shall I go out for junk food?” Callan asked.
“Burger, please,” Enya smiled.
“Yeah, same. And a large coke,” Charlotte said. She wasn't hungry but needed the energy.
“Okay, I'll be back soon.”
“Callan, we have company at two.”
He gave her a quizzical look, nodded once, and left.
“What did you do this morning?” she asked, tuning Enya to face her.
“Played with Dane. My water dragon was chasing his shadow dragon, then we went for cake. Aunty Alayna bought me this new top then Daddy came,” she shrugged.
“It's a very pretty top, where did you get it? The boutique?”
“Yeah, the lady saved it for me,” she said, then frowned.
“What's wrong, baby?” Charlotte asked, concerned.
“There was a top for Zander too…” Her eyes filled with tears.
Charlotte scooped her into her arms and cuddled her close. “We'll get him back, Enya. He isn't far away and with all our magic we'll be able to find him soon. I promise, I'll get him home. I'm seeing someone this afternoon, for some extra help.”
“I can't feel him, mummy. I can always feel him and he's just, gone. I'm scared,” Enya sniffed.
Twin bond or magic?
Please don't let them have hurt him.
“He's fine, he's waiting for us to find him, and we will. I promise.” Charlotte held her close, her eyes squeezed shut as she took in the smell of her.
Callan placed the bags of food on the coffee table and cleared his throat. “Okay?”
Charlotte nodded, “Here, Daddy's got your lunch. Eat up while its warm, it's almost time to go and see Nanna.”
Enya tucked in as Charlotte forced her own meal down. Callan sipped at a bottle of water. “I ate while you were in the bath,” he said when she noticed, “Who's visiting?”
“Markus. Rona said to ask for help, I'm asking for it,” she shrugged. “He might not know what it's about but i
t's easier to show him. There was an image, the same leather those suits are made from, that the sheath for my dagger is made from. I don't know if I'm supposed to have one or take Zander's with us or what, but I have to show him.”
Enya was watching her intently. “Do I need my suit, Mummy?”
“No, sweetheart, not here in the palace. I'm just looking for different clues, that's all,” she smiled.
She shouldn't be listening to any of this.
“I think it's time to go to Nanna's. Come on, I'll take you down.” She held out her hand.
“I'll come too,” Callan said.
“No, you stay here. Get your head down for half an hour,” she said, kissing him.
“See you soon, Daddy,” Enya said, sadly, as Charlotte led her through the door.
Markus sat back on the sofa, a hand resting on the arm. He studied her with his cold, silver eyes. Charlotte tried not to shudder. “What can I help you with, Charlotte? I must admit I was surprised to receive your request.”
“We went to see Rona this morning,” she said.
He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, hands clasped together. “The Seer? She's been, retired, for some time. What did she tell you?”
“She showed me. Would you mind?” She raised her brows in question.
He frowned, “Are you sure?”
She clicked her tongue. “I could have Callan hold you at sword point if you think it'll help you to restrain yourself?”
“That isn't necessary, is it?” Callan snorted.
“Very well,” he sighed. “Bring the images to the forefront of your mind and I'll study them.”
She closed her eyes and nodded.
He was gentle, so very gentle as his power stroked and coaxed, requesting permission. She opened her mind to him, running the images through in sequence. She repeated them, to as to be sure he'd seen them all, then pushed him out.
He cocked a brow and said, “Very good, Charlotte. You're certainly growing into your talents.”
Reclining in the seat again, he looked to Callan but said nothing. For several minutes, he said nothing, as he considered when she had shown him.
Callan rose, anxious for an answer, and said, “I'll make tea. Markus?”
Riftkeepers: Pursuit Page 20