The Cast Of A Stone

by Avril Borthiry

  Later - much later - he thought back to that day.

  And how terribly wrong he had been.

  Chapter Twenty

  Darkness retreated from the Cumberland hills, leaving behind the damp chill of a bleak autumn morning. Clouds scurried across the sky, chased by an eastern wind, which chose to remain aloft, unhindered by hill or vale. Only a gentle breeze explored the earth below, skimming over the summit and slopes of Black Combe. It fussed around Althena, playing with her skirts and her long, dark hair.

  She pulled her shawl across her shoulders, searching the skies for hints of what the weather might yet bring. The fragrance of autumn carried on the breeze, captured from nearby forests and lakes. Stronger yet was the scent of horseflesh, for Bart stood at Althena's side, his warm breath brushing her shoulder. She scratched his cheek.

  “I think the tide is on its way out, old friend. May God grant we stay dry as we travel.”

  The stallion snorted and nodded his head in apparent agreement. Althena patted his neck and, with a final glance at her little cottage, led him down the track toward the river.

  An entire moon's cycle had passed since Alex had left Bart in her care. Through the day, the horse grazed the land around her home, and took shelter in her small lean-to at night, enjoying a further feast of hay and oats. But the advancing chill of autumn pained the stallion's old bones. Althena could tell by the increased stiffness of his gait and his occasional limp.

  She realized he needed the warmth and shelter of a barn. His barn. So, she decided to take the old fellow home, intending to stay with him until Alex returned.

  “Whenever that might be,” she muttered, voicing her thoughts, for Alex had been gone longer than she'd expected.

  I wonder how he fares? And Emma too, bless her heart. May God have granted them some peace.

  She thought about Finn and Keir, a grin spreading across her face as she recalled the Irish knight's unabashed flirtations with her. The man was utterly incorrigible!

  But Finn wasn't the one she wanted. He wasn't the one she loved.

  Althena's shoulders slumped and she parted with a heart-felt sigh, followed by a muttered curse.

  “Oh, for God's sake. What am I? Some love-sick maiden?” She pulled her shoulders back, stuck out her tongue and blew in self-disgust. Bart jerked his head at the sound, his ears twitching.

  “Sorry, old man. Ignore me. I'm just being foolish.” She reached up and rubbed Bart's nose.

  Althena chose to lead the animal rather than ride him. Despite his gentle nature and advanced years, Bart was still a full-blooded war-horse, accustomed to obeying the commands of only one master. She wasn't sure how he might respond to someone else sitting on his back. Besides, she didn't mind the walk. Much of the trail ran alongside the river. Althena enjoyed watching the water, recently invigorated by several days of rain, tumble and bounce its way over the rocks.

  Around midday they reached the forest trail leading to Alex's home. Althena eyed the dark path with some reluctance, chiding herself for her nervousness as she led Bart deeper into the woods.

  Still draped in autumn colours, the trees allowed little light to descend to the forest floor and the lack of sun only strengthened the woodland gloom. The breeze pushed its way through the branches and dying leaves fell silently all around them.

  Althena chatted to Bart, her trivial discourse intended, for the most part, to dispel the loneliness of the forest. Bart's mighty hooves fell sure and steady alongside Althena's quiet steps, his ears twitching at the sound of her voice. Once in a while, he would snort or shake his head. Such actions were often timely, as if he agreed with her words or understood her questions, and Athena's amused laughter often echoed through the trees.

  They were almost home when the feeling crept up on her, a sense someone was watching from the shadows. The hair on her arms and neck lifted. Was it her imagination, or had the woods become unusually quiet? The breeze had died. The leaves no longer fell. Even the birds were silent. Then, somewhere off in the trees, a twig snapped.

  Althena stopped, her breath trapped in her lungs, her fingers gripping Bart's lead-rein so tightly her knuckles whitened. Cursing under her breath, she peered into the gloom, half-expecting to see someone step out from behind a tree. But no one did.

  She glanced at Bart. Had he heard something, noticed anyone? Apparently not. He showed no indication anything was amiss. In fact, his head hung in lazy contentment while his tail swished away the few remaining flies of the season.

  Althena swallowed her fear, uttered a quick prayer, and walked on.

  By the time they reached the house, her anxiety had subsided. Even so, she let out a sigh of relief at the familiar sight of Alex's home. She could no longer ignore the ache in her feet and the slight throb in her temples. After all, they'd been travelling for more than half the day.

  “I'll settle you in, my friend, and then I'm going to make myself a tisane and rest my poor feet.”

  Bart needed no encouragement. He dragged Althena into the musty barn, his nostrils quivering with apparent excitement at being home again. He looked about him, lifted his head and neighed loudly. She understood his question.

  “Nay, lad. Alex isn't here.” She pulled the saddle bags from Bart's back, unhooked his lead rein, and slapped his rear as he stepped into his stall. He turned to face her, resting his chin on the gate as she latched it. To her surprise, he bared his teeth, pulled his ears back and kicked the door. “Oi, watch your manners.” Althena frowned and picked up an empty bucket. “I'll be back in a moment.”

  She stepped outside, looked over to the house and froze.

  Something was propped up by the front door. Nay, not propped up, standing. Standing by the door. A man? Nay. The shape was similar, but... Some kind of animal, maybe? It blended into the background, almost as if it was had torn itself away from the earth, the trees, the walls of the house.

  Her eyes narrowed, squinting as she tried to make it out. She took a step forward. The thing didn't move. She took another step.

  The creature turned its head and looked at her.

  Althena gasped, her guts twisting in fear. “Sweet Mary. Oh, dear Mother of God.”

  It defied belief. Such a creature shouldn't be alive - nay - couldn't be alive. Not even the devil could have spawned such a being. At one time, it might have been a man. Now, half its skull was bare of hair, the raw skin stretched, like rough leather, down one side of a face that bore little resemblance to a human. One eye was sealed shut by strings of scar tissue. The other eye watched her, void of lashes and a brow. When it blinked, Althena screamed and dropped the pail.

  She turned to run, tripping over the pail in her terror. Her skirts tangled around her ankles and she stumbled to her knees. Bart squealed in anger, and the barn shook with the impact of his hooves hitting the door.

  A hand grabbed her hair and hauled her upright. She screamed again and tried to pull the vice-like fingers free from her scalp. An arm wrapped itself around her throat, cutting off her cries.

  “Where is she?”

  Althena cringed at the stench of rotten flesh, sweat and human waste. She whimpered, her voice choked by her captor. The fist in her hair twisted her head, pulling her face around to meet his. She closed her eyes, unwilling to look at him. His vile breath violated her nostrils. Her stomach clenched and she heaved.

  “Where. Is. She?” Each word spat saliva in her face.

  “Wh... Who?” she croaked, fighting for breath.

  A name gurgled from his throat. “Emma.”

  The realisation of who held her turned her blood to ice. Argante.

  Althena opened her eyes, her head throbbing from lack of air and the pain of his grip.

  “P... please,” she rasped. “You're killing me.”

  He let her go and she dropped to the ground, trembling and gasping.

  “Who are you?” His hand drifted to his crotch and spittle pooled at the corners of his lips.

  “I... I am Al... Althena.�
�� She rested on her knees and summoned the courage to study him, searching for any sign of humanity on his scar-ridden face. She found none.

  “Althena.” A globule of saliva escaped his deformed mouth and hit the ground in front of her. He licked his lips. “I want Emma.”

  Tears rolled down her face. “Emma has gone. She isn't coming back.”

  His one eye blinked several times. “You lie. She is coming back. Emma belongs to me.” He pulled his erect penis from the torn remnants of his britches and stroked it. “See? I only have to speak her name. Hard as a rock.”

  Althena sobbed, her desperate mind trying to calm itself, seeking a way to survive. She sensed the depth of his insanity and it terrified her. Should she try reasoning with him? Make a run for it?

  Bart continued to squeal and kick at his door. If only he could free himself. She knew the horse would attack Argante.

  Still fondling himself, he bent over her. She cringed and turned away.

  “Emma is coming back.” He spat on the ground. “You lying whore. Maybe I'll give you to Iain. He'll swive anything.” He picked something up and closed his fingers around it. “That horse is giving me a headache.”

  He raised his fist, a twisted smile stretching across his scarred lips. “Liar.”

  His eye blinked once more and his fist came down hard, striking her on the side of her head. It sounded like an egg breaking close to her ear. For one glorious insane moment, she thought he'd merely picked up a hen's egg from the ground and hit her with it. Then she felt a warm rush of blood coursing down her neck. A moment later, blinding pain flashed behind her eyes, stabbing deep into her brain.

  She vomited and fell backwards, gagging on the contents of her stomach.

  Dear God. What has he done? Alex, I need you. Please, help me. Please.

  Coughing, she turned her head, spitting out vomit. The flow of blood changed course and ran across her eyes. She wiped it away in time to see Argante disappearing through the barn door.

  Only moments later Bart stopped squealing, but the sickening silence that followed lasted but a moment.

  Faint at first, the sound grew louder, filling the space around and above Althena with the steady beat of wings and a distinct chorus. Behind the pain and shock, her injured brain recognized the familiar cries. With a groan, she turned blood-filled eyes to the heavens.

  Geese, hundreds of them, were flying overhead in majestic formations, leaving behind the cold grip of a northern winter, heading south.

  Seeking survival.

  Just before darkness consumed her, Althena stretched a trembling hand to the sky.

  “Alex.”

  * * *

  The east wind continued its journey toward the German Sea, herding huge swaths of clouds across the wild expanses of Yorkshire. It grazed the top of Thurston's battlements and blew into the bailey, snatching at Alex's hair and lifting the cloak from his shoulders. He paid it little attention. His focus was elsewhere.

  Beneath his right hand, which rested on the sword's hilt, the stone gave off a soft vibration. At the same time, a sense of foreboding nibbled at him, unsettling his stomach.

  An elusive dream had wrenched him from sleep just before dawn, the images in his head vanishing the moment he opened his eyes. Yet remnants of the dream taunted him still, unreachable and indiscernible.

  The lingering sensation reminded him of the morning he'd awoken to find Emma gone, yet he knew she was not the cause of his unease this time. So what, or who, was? The answer eluded him.

  His gaze shifted from the sky and wandered over the forest, seeking the source of...what? He turned toward the vast moorland of Yorkshire. Beyond that, to the northwest, lay the distant fells of Cumberland.

  The breath caught in his chest and a prickle of apprehension stroked the back of his neck. There. An anomaly. An imbalance.

  Argante? Nay, surely not. Argante's evil influence couldn't stretch this far.

  Could it?

  A crow settled on the wall next to him, flapping its wings against the pull of the wind. Alex looked at the bird, who puffed out its blue-black feathers and cawed loudly.

  The unease in his stomach settled a little. “Aye, I'd be grateful.”

  The crow spread its wings and soared skyward.

  “Remarkable.” Finn's voice cut through the rush of the wind. Alex turned to see him watching the flight of the crow as it disappeared into the clouds. “You're troubled today, Alexander. Anything I should know about?”

  Alex gave a grim smile. “I'd tell you if I knew what it was.”

  “Well, beware.” Finn glanced at Alex's sword. “Your emotions are a little...scattered. Go easy on yourself. Our control of the shield is weaker since Keir left.”

  Alex took a slow breath and relaxed his shoulders. “'Tis a feeling of unease, but I can find no reason for it.”

  “Probably something you ate.” Finn grinned and gestured toward the bailey. “I saddled your horse. Our ladies await.”

  * * *

  The moor stretched to the horizon, an ragged patchwork of windswept grasses, bedraggled heather and rusty bracken. Here and there, patches of cotton grass waved their white flags in the breeze, betraying the location of boggy ground. An endless multitude of clouds, caught in the wind's grasp, rushed across the sky.

  Alex and Finn reined in their horses at the top of a gentle rise and turned to watch Bee and Emma, who, moments later, pulled their own horses to a halt alongside. Bee, panting, uttered a string of curses and glared at Finn. Alex, struggling with an urge to laugh, sat back in his saddle and waited.

  “A chailín mo chroí.” Finn met Bee's glare, his lips twitching with suppressed laughter. “Such language for a lady. What, pray, have I done now?”

  “You cheated.” Bee's eyes narrowed. “Again.”

  Finn placed a hand on his chest, his eyes twinkling. “Me? How this wench, whom I adore, does cut me with her sharp words. I'm beyond bereft.”

  Emma burst out laughing. “She does have a point, Finn. You yelled 'race you to the top' only after you'd kicked your poor horse into a gallop. We didn't stand a chance.”

  Alex stifled a chuckle and looked at the ground.

  “And you're no better, Caleb.” Bee scowled at him. “I saw the silent exchange between you both. You're in league with this Irish devil. Move aside.” She urged her horse forward, brushing past them, her nose in the air.

  Finn shrugged, gave Emma and Alex a sheepish grin, and turned his horse to follow Bee's. “Please excuse me,” he said. “It seems this Irish devil must endeavour to embrace the backside of a wee English angel.”

  Emma gasped and looked at Alex with wide eyes. “He's incorrigible!”

  Alex laughed. “Aye. But quite harmless. She couldn't be in safer hands.”

  “I know. It's nice to see her so happy.” Emma sighed and looked out across the moor. He watched her fingering a small gold brooch through the opening in her cloak. He didn't recognize the jewel.

  A gift from Stephen?

  Alex sensed her thoughts as he urged his horse onward, following Bee and Finn's path. Emma's horse fell into step beside his.

  “Stephen will return soon, my lady. It's been what...a fortnight already?”

  “It's been fifteen nights since he left.” She turned and gave him a wistful smile. The fresh air had brushed roses on her cheeks, but shadows lingered beneath her eyes. Her aura was still bright, though. A good sign. “And one half day,” she finished.

  His eyes flicked to the skies, his sense of foreboding all at once stronger. “'Tis not easy being apart from someone you love,” he murmured, a chill peppering his skin.

  “Is something wrong, Caleb?” The hint of fear in her voice caught his attention.

  “Nay, lass.” He tore his gaze away from the clouds and smiled at her. “I was merely wondering if it might rain. Being caught on the moors in a rainstorm would not be pleasant.”

  “Ah. You appeared...worried for a moment.” She glanced at Bee and Finn up ahead. “
I have something to tell you. Something in confidence.”

  “Of course, my lady.”

  “I came to a decision last night. Nay. Truth is, I came to it many days ago, but only admitted it to myself last night.” Her eyes softened. “I've decided I want to go home. I want to get married in Cumberland. I have to talk to my...to Alex and ask him what happened to my mother.”

  Alex cursed inwardly, leaned over, and pulled Emma's horse to a halt. He studied her, wondering if she could hear the thud of his heart. “Are you sure, Emma?”

  Emma frowned. “About what? Going home? Or getting married?”

  “About asking Alex for the truth. It might not be what you want to hear.”

  “All I've been told is that he killed my parents. Murdered them. How much worse can it be?” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I've given it much thought. Indeed, I've thought of little else. I agree with Stephen, and I agree with you. My cùra would never do such a thing. There must be more to this tale.”

  My cùra.

  Those two words sank into the depths of Alex's soul and soothed the pain within.

  “'Tis a good decision,” he said. “He'll be pleased to see you. Both of you. Of that, I have no doubt.”

  Emma wriggled in the saddle. “I can't wait to tell Stephen. I know he wants to go back as well. He and Alex became good friends.”

  “Aye, he told me.”

  “Do you intend to stay at Thurston?”

  A twinge of guilt plucked at his conscience. He was, after all, deceiving her.

  “I'm not sure what my future holds, lass.”

  “Why don't you travel with us when we go? Come and visit Alex. I'm sure he'd be surprised to see you.”

  Alex chuckled. “Aye, that he would.”

  A sound carried on the wind, faint, but distinctive. Emma, still smiling, raised her eyes to the sky and pointed.

  “Caleb, look. Oh, how splendid! There must be hundreds of them.”

  Alex followed her gaze. Thin dark lines were strung across the sky from horizon to horizon. Geese, he realized, on their way to warmer climes before winter arrived.

  The air purred with the beat of a thousand wings, and the wind snatched up the crescendo of melancholy cries. It was an exodus unlike any Alex had ever seen. His spirit lifted at the impressive sight, and he smiled with the sheer pleasure of witnessing the event.