Temple of Indra's Lies (Time-Traveling Bibliophile Book 3)

by Rachael Stapleton

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Dunlace Castle Ruins

  Northern Ireland, November 1551

  Sive burst into tears as she watched Conal walk away. She hated Da and the witch for doing this and she hated Sorely for cooperating. No one would ever make her feel the way Conal did. With him gone, she didn’t think herself capable of living. She turned in the other direction and headed below. She could row a boat out from the mermaids cave. It wouldn’t be long before she was smashed against the rocks. It would be a better fate than being locked into a loveless marriage.

  Stopping long enough to wipe the tears from her eyes, Sive looked up and realized she had wandered into a part of the castle she’d never seen before. There was a large wooden door open in front of her where another stone staircase led downwards. Maybe she could hide until the wedding was over.

  “Sive? Is that ye?”

  Sive wiped at her eyes again just to make sure there was no evidence of her emotion. The Witch of Dunlace Castle was walking up the stairs toward her.

  “I’m fine. I’m just clearing my head before the ceremony.”

  Saundra chuckled. “I see. I’m not sure ye’ll find this area of the castle ideal for a stroll. ‘Tis the torture chamber.”

  “Sounds like it’s where I belong,” Sive mumbled as she pushed past her.

  “Suit yerself,” the witch replied. “Oh, Sive, wait...”

  “What now? Can’t ye just leave me in peace?”

  “I’ve a gift for ye. Please accept it as a token of my sincerest apology. I never meant to make ye unhappy. My visions don’t always bring me pleasure and if there had been any other way to give ye what ye wanted then I would have. “

  Sive pursed her lips. This woman was a conniving liar but something about her words rang true.

  “I was planning to give this to ye after the ceremony but perhaps ye’ll have more use for it now.”

  “What’s in it?” Sive snapped as she took the pouch. Her head was aching; she’d had enough of this scheming witch. Sincere or not, it was her fault she was being forced to marry Conal’s cousin instead of him.

  “‘Tis a blessed jewel for yer protection—it will bring ye everything that ye deserve in life.”

  Saundra turned and then continued up the stairs. Sive waited until she disappeared to peek inside the bag but Saundra had closed the large wooden door when she exited and the stairwell grew dark. Unsure what to do, Sive continued down the stairs. She was more afraid of facing her groom than the blackness. Whatever was inside the pouch was growing hot to the touch. She let out a scream and almost dropped it when it started vibrating. That was when she lost her footing and stumbled down the remaining stairs and into the wall on the opposite side of the landing. The wall gave way as she hit it and she landed on a cold stone floor with a thud.

  The fall didn’t hurt, but the pain in her heart that kept her from pushing herself up off the ground. She lay there crying until her eyes ran dry and her nose was sore, all the while wishing she could just disappear. She would rather be dead than live her life trapped like an animal, forced to mate whenever called upon.

  She had no idea how long she lay there, but when she had cried all the tears she had to cry, she decided it was time to get up and face the miserable life before her.

  Standing, she brushed the dirt off the side of her face and turned her head in the direction of the sunlight streaming in from the small window in the far corner. As she waited for her eyes to adjust, she scanned the room and felt herself getting light-headed. This made no sense, walls did not give way and yet this one had. She was in some sort of secret chamber. Confused and frightened, she wondered if she had hit her head harder than she’d thought, as she tried to make sense of what was in the chamber.

  Hundreds of dusty old books arranged on shelves, flanking a large oval desk in the center of the room. Why had the witch been down here? Was this her room? A book lay open on the desk, and she felt a chill move down her spine as she began to read the words.

  A spell. She glanced up from the dusty, yellowed page and felt the sapphire in the black pouch vibrate. She removed it from its cloth and held it in her hand. It warmed and made her arm tingle.

  Turning her attention back to the spellbook, she picked it up and balanced it in the crook of her arm so she could read the words aloud as she paced. She could almost hear the walls humming, and despite something pulling at the edge of her brain, telling her to stop, curiosity piqued her interest and she continued to sound out the inscription.

  Just as she finished sounding out the last syllable, an unbearable pain shot through her head. She dropped the book and the stone and screamed out in agony. The entire world felt as if it were shaking, but when she looked around, nothing seemed to be moving but her. She pushed on the false wall and crawled back into the stairwell in time to hear her servant, Bridget, call her name.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Fake Idol

  Southern India, Blood Moon, September 27, 2015

  “Are ye sure this ladder’s sturdy?” Sam called up to us, as he continued to climb down first. Moments later, lamplight bloomed from below, casting his shadow up the wall of the shaft. The guide Mani helped me down and then stumbled on a rung of the ladder and had to catch himself with a quick grab before he fell on me.

  After three more steps, Cullen went last. Leslie remained up top. As my feet touched rock I stepped from the ladder into the cramped cavern of the first level. The light stung my eyes with its brightness while the dusty, dry air filled my nostrils.

  For a moment, the ruins groaned and I eyeballed the latticework of wooden support beams, bolstering the ancient ceilings.

  “Keep going,” Mani said, guiding us toward the wooden ladder that descended to the second level of tunnels and rooms. However, that was not our final destination. After climbing down another ladder, we reached the deepest level. Silence hung like a wool blanket across the ruins. We had to be twenty feet below. I felt like the ground was caving in on me. Underground passages were not great for someone who suffered from claustrophobia and yet I always seemed to find myself in them. We proceeded in silence through the last of the tunnels to the deepest room. I dreaded and yet anticipated what was about to be revealed. The chamber was no larger than the average-sized kitchen and what stood in the center of the wall drew my eyes: a crude statue of Indra.

  I forced myself to breathe.

  Slouching against a wooden support to the right, Mani held a cigarette, unlit, between his lips. He broke the silence. “Well, is this the place, or what?”

  “You’re not gonna light that, are you?” I asked, appalled at the thought.

  He quickly pulled it from his lips and straightened up. “This is the statue you were looking for, right?”

  “It’s so small,” I uttered.

  “A piece of the original statue, but the most important piece. It’s been hidden for a long time. No one knew where it was placed after the Temple of Indra crumbled.”

  “How did you know?”

  “My cousin was part of the excavation crew.”

  Cullen glanced around. “Where’s Sam?” he asked.

  I frowned. “He was right here a moment ago.”

  “He wandered back toward the ladder, breathing heavily,” Mani said. “Something about small spaces.”

  “Maybe we should go check on him,” Cullen mumbled.

  “He probably went back up top. I’ll go check,” Mani replied.

  As soon as Mani disappeared, I reached into my bag and felt for the elephant box. I was having mixed feelings about what to do. On one hand I no longer trusted Mani after Sarawati’s comments but at the same time I just wanted to be free of these cursed jewels.

  What to do?

  I moved my hand around the inside of the bag. My wallet, sunglasses and then I felt something sharp. The box must have opened inside and I felt the dagger slice the tip of my finger.

  “Ouch.”

  “What is it, Aeval?”

&
nbsp; I leaned one hand against Indra and carefully repositioned the other hand inside the bag to grab the dagger by the handle. As soon as I felt the jewels in the handle vibrate, I fell to my knees. I’d made a mistake.

  Chapter Thirty

  Timetraveler

  Northern Ireland, November 1551

  Vision slowly made its way back to me. As I waited for the blurry images to clear, I reached to grip the stone wall that flanked me and struggled to pull myself to my feet. A voice from behind me penetrated my foggy brain.

  On unsteady feet I spun toward the doorway, struggling to make out the form standing in front of me—a short, plump woman.

  I closed my eyes briefly and opened them once more, hoping it would help me clear my sight. It did nothing to increase my vision, but I could now make out the woman’s words.

  “Oh God! Oh dear, sweet Mother O’ God! The witch was right. Ye’re drunk and we’re just hours away from yer weddin’! Ye picked a grand time to run away again, didn’a ye!”

  I struggled to process my surroundings as I felt the woman’s hands grip my shoulders and shake them.

  “My lady! Are ye all right? Did ye hit yer head when ye fell?”

  “Fine,” I gasped and reached to grab my head once more, realizing I could finally see the woman clearly. The pain that had nearly ripped me in half only moments ago had slowly eased into a migraine.

  I felt the shaking stop and looked into the blue eyes that were studying me fiercely.

  My head was throbbing too incessantly to concentrate. I scanned the room, while silently willing the woman to hush. Memories of what I’d been doing only moments before came rushing back, and panic burst forth as I shot out of the woman’s reach.

  “Where’s Cullen? What happened?” My voice and fingers were shaking.

  “Oh, ye poor thing. Ye look frightened to death.”

  The woman moved toward me once more and pulled me toward a stool in the corner of the room.

  She was right. I was scared. My voice was different. Attempting to stifle my panic, I followed her urging and collapsed onto the smooth, wooden seat.

  “Are ye all right now, lass? Conal’s upstairs with the rest of the guests, or so I suspect, but I think ye should be more concerned with yer weddin’ dress. Ye’ve gone and smudged it and yer hair has come undone. “

  I simply nodded as numbness replaced the sense of panic, and turned to watch the woman as she spoke.

  She chuckled slightly. Then, seeing my confusion, she stopped laughing and pulled her face into a look of seriousness once again.

  “What’s the date?”

  “Today is the seventeenth day of November and ‘tis yer weddin’ day.”

  I started to refute the woman’s claims, only to find that my mouth was dry and my knees were shaking. I sat quietly instead.

  “This is Dunlace Castle?” I’d done it again I thought remembering the date on Sive McQuillan’s marriage certificate. Laughter threatened to bubble up out of my throat. I was in the year fifteen hundred and fifty-one.

  Unless I’d hit my head in the temple chamber and I was now conjuring this up in my mind. After time traveling so many times, I often dreamed about it but I never made up new adventures. Then again, Cullen had asked me to solve the mystery of the Castle. Perhaps he’d put the idea in my head but more than likely I was really here and the only thing I could do was solve the mystery and find a way home.

  “And what were ye needin’ Conal for, lass?”

  The woman’s question seemed to throw me out of my thoughts, and I found myself answering automatically.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I relaxed a little as I noticed that my knees were no longer shaking, and my breathing had returned to normal.

  “Come on, lass. Old Bridget’ll get ye fixed up for the wedding, ye can count on me.”

  The woman I assumed was Bridget took off up the stairs, leaving me with little option other than to follow.

  I should have been frightened but I wasn’t. Startled, yes, but not scared.

  Much like the castle, the woman was a familiar sight; she looked just like the Sam’s Aunt Ida from the inn in modern-day Ireland, except the clothing and the accent was slightly different. She was a good four inches shorter than me, and her eyes were still the deepest shade of blue. Of course she wouldn’t know me, not the real me. This was clearly the past-life version of her. It was funny to me how sometimes we looked exactly the same in our past lives and yet other times completely different.

  As I followed along, I rationalized my worries away by concentrating on two pieces of information that stuck out in my mind.

  One, time always stopped when I traveled so there was no rush back, which was also a negative because no one would notice that I was gone, and I could be stuck here until old age, depending on when I died.

  Two, I only ever traveled into a past life so clearly I had existed in this time and place. I suddenly wished I’d paid more attention to Cullen when he’d spoken of the castle ruin’s history. I should have known we were drawn there for a reason.

  The research Leslie and I had been doing came back to me in snippets. My mind started to grasp the facts one by one as they presented themselves. I was pretty sure the McQuillan clan was attacked in November of 1551. This started a war between the three close-knit clans. As to why, or who was responsible, no one had ever been able to find out. But who was I in this time frame? Regardless, there was nothing that I could do about it now. If there was one thing I’d learned from my past experiences, it was to play along.

  I looked up as Bridget came to a halt in front of me and realized instantly that I had been paying little attention to the route we had taken to the door in front of which I was now standing.

  It was a magnificent door. Strong yet feminine, the door was carved with precise detail that swirled in and around the wood.

  “Into yer bedchamber, lass. After the weddin’, ye will move to yer husband’s castle.” She paused to push the door open and gestured, nudging me inside.

  The bed was covered in jewel toned shades that were mirrored throughout the rest of the room, and I allowed myself to fall into the center of it. I was just snuggling deep down into the lush fabrics when Bridget tugged at me.

  “Come on, lass. Up ye go.” She grabbed me by the arm, hauling me up out of the bed.

  My head swam once again as I stood, and I gripped the wooden bedpost to hold myself up.

  “What are ye doing?” I pushed the old woman’s hands away from me.

  “What does it look like I’m doin’, lass? Ye are to be at the church promptly!” Bridget’s voice was shrill and demanding as she placed her hands on her hips and glared straight at me. Bridget’s face seemed to soften. “Lass, I’m sorry everythin’ is happening so fast for ye. I dinna know why yer Da changed his mind about who ye would marry but we have to respect his decision.” Bridget sank down onto the edge of the bed and crossed her arms with a look of exasperation. “This is yer duty and yer fate now and ye must accept it with grace.”

  “Who am I marrying?”

  “Did ye hit yer head lass, whilst ye were in the bottle, or are ye teasin’ me?” I sat while she ran a comb through my hair. “Who,” she chuckled. “As if ye could ever forget after moanin’ and cryin’ about it for weeks now.” Bridget walked in front of me. “Ah! That’s not bad, lass!” She took my shoulders and turned me around so that I was facing the mirror. “There. All fixed up.”

  I stared back at my reflection, barely able to recognize the girl in the mirror. The pink in the dress made my blue eyes sparkle, and the cut of the gown pushed the girls up fairly high. “Thank ye, Bridget. Ye did a great job.”

  “I’m pleased to hear it, miss. Now, off we go.”

  I followed her down the steps and we chatted as we went. “Ye seem to be a smidge more accepting of the weddin’ than ye were earlier, so I’m glad to see ye’ve had a change of heart…Oh dear. I forgot the bouquet. Stay put. I’ll only be a moment.”

  As I stood
in the foyer of the castle, I scanned the walls searching for exits, wondering if and when I should make a run for it. Any moment Bridget would return to take me to meet my groom. Then he came into view. My heart hammered wildly inside my chest, and my breath lodged in my throat as we locked eyes.

  Coming through the doorway, he was beaming back at me with a smile so wide that I couldn’t help but smile in return.

  He stepped forward and I was immediately hypnotized by his eyes. The different flecks of gold that danced inside and around the swirls of green—I wanted to melt inside him.

  “I shouldn’t be here but I just needed to see ye again. To tell ye that ye look beautiful, my love.”

  I was staring at his eyes so intently that the impact of his lips on mine startled me and I tried to jerk away, but he prevented me from doing so with his hand on the smallest part of my back. Instead he pulled me close to his chest. His right hand cupped the left side of my face as he moved his lips confidently against my own.

  Part of me felt I should have stopped the kiss; realistically, I was kissing a total stranger. But I wasn’t. This stranger was my Cullen, and my body betrayed me, sending heat down to the farthest ends of my fingertips and toes. Relief coursed through me as I realized I would be marrying Cullen. Granted, it was a past-life version of him but that was fine by me.

  Had it not been for Bridget’s grunts on the stairs, I think the kiss would have gone on much longer, but the noise caused Cullen—as I thought of him—to jerk away. As he did so, a look of utter shame crossed his face. We’d been caught kissing before the nuptials. That was definitely a no-no.

  I reached to lay my fingers against his cheek. I expected a smile in return, but instead I was rewarded with a pained expression.

  “Are the two of ye ready? It’s time.”

  I nodded and he disappeared back out the way he’d come. Bridget fawned over my hair and then led me around the corner and up the path. I tried to keep pace with her stride, but the bottom of my dress kept getting in the way and instead I stumbled along, tripping with every other step.