The Cast Of A Stone

by Avril Borthiry

  “What have you lost?”

  “A brooch.” She looked at him with moonlit eyes. “A little gold brooch that Stephen gave me. It means such a lot to me.”

  “Do you remember when you last saw it?”

  “Tonight, in my chamber. It was pinned to my dress. I've looked everywhere, even on the roof.”

  “The roof?” He gazed up at the battlements. “You were on the roof tonight?”

  She fidgeted on her feet. “Aye. After...after my nightmare, I... I couldn't sleep, so I went up there for a while. I feel terrible for losing it. It belonged to Stephen's mother.”

  He studied her for a moment, sensing her regret at mentioning her rooftop visit. What was she hiding? “I'm sorry, lass. We can go and look again if you like.”

  She hesitated and glanced back at the keep. “Nay, I think not. I'm sure someone will find it and return it to Stephen. I just want to leave here, Finn. I can't wait to get home.” She gestured to her horse. “I forgot you gave your horse to Caleb. 'Twill be slow going with only one set of hooves.”

  He smiled at the blatant change of subject, lifted Emma onto the saddle, and swung up behind her. “I'll pick up another horse in York. And you can call Caleb by his real name, a chailín. I'm aware you recognized him.”

  I'm just not sure how.

  They passed through the gates unnoticed and unhindered. Emma twisted in the saddle to watch Thurston's walls disappear into the night.

  “Thank you for helping me, Finn,” she whispered.

  He shrugged. “'Tis why I'm here.”

  She looked up at him. “Aye, I know. I have questions about that.”

  “I'm sure you do, little one. Ask away. We've plenty of time. 'Tis a three-hour trek to York.”

  “You'll answer me honestly? No more secrets?”

  “None. But only if you agree to the same. There are things I would also know.”

  She looked down, twisting her fingers through a strand of the horse's mane. “Very well,” she mumbled. “I agree.”

  “Good.” He gave her a gentle squeeze. “Off you go then. Ladies first.”

  She shifted her seat. “I want to know about that day on the moors. What happened to Alex? I didn't believe your tale of childhood affliction and unfinished business for a moment. Why did he fall, and why did he leave so suddenly?”

  Finn looked dismayed. “You both surprise and hurt me, little one. I thought you'd ask me about Alexander's disguise. And I'm utterly devastated my lies didn't fool you.”

  Emma giggled. “Well, I know his disguise had something to do with the stone. But I've no idea why he left so suddenly, why he collapsed like that. Did it have something to do with those birds? It frightened me, Finn.”

  “No need to fear. The affliction was temporary, the result of a vision the birds shared with him about Althena. The shock of it interfered with his ability to maintain his disguise. That's why he collapsed and that's why he had to leave.”

  She tensed against him. “About Althena? What happened?”

  “She was badly injured. Close to death.”

  “But...but she didn't die. Finn, please tell me she didn't die.”

  “Nay, she didn't die. Alex would have let me know.”

  Emma drew a sharp breath. “How was she injured?”

  “She was attacked, Emma. Attacked and left for dead.”

  He waited, his heart heavy with sorrow for the anguish he knew she was about to feel.

  “Attacked? Who...?” He felt her flinch as if she'd been struck. “Dear God. It was him, wasn't it? Argante?”

  Dawn cast a pale glow across the eastern sky as they approached the great walls of York. Finn's mind played with several undeniable truths, many of which he'd already suspected. He'd answered Emma's questions, told her how Alex asked the Circle for help, how the shield worked, why they had gone to Thurston. She wept for a while, castigating her behaviour toward Alex, blaming herself for Argante's assault on Althena.

  “You're being too hard on yourself,” said Finn. “Think of what you've been through, what you're still going through. No one blames you for any of this, little one.”

  He never mentioned Stephen's growing connection to the stone or his awareness of the Circle. Emma never asked about it either, although Finn had the impression the question hovered on her lips more than once. Poor wee thing. He guessed it was just too painful for her to talk about, even though he felt certain Stephen would not abandon her.

  Nor could she explain how she saw through Caleb's disguise. But she told him about the strange memories of her mother and Alex. She described the vile image of Argante in her nightmare and told him of the utter despair that had driven her to Thurston's roof.

  Her words chilled his blood, but he said little. He simply leaned over, kissed her cheek, and silently thanked God for Alexander Mathanach.

  Emma's strange tale of seeing Alex on the roof that night puzzled Finn above all the rest. Although she admitted to speaking with him and touching him, Emma had come to believe Alex's image was merely a dream. She needed a guardian angel and one had appeared, she explained, taking the form of a man who had guided her through life.

  Even though he knew it hadn't been a dream, Finn didn't argue, nor did he admit to sensing a Guardian's presence. But it raised more questions. How had Alex managed such a feat? And why had he never mentioned this ability to the Circle? To hide such important information bespoke of deceit. Any attempt by a Guardian to deceive the Circle was a punishable offence.

  A death sentence.

  Unless, of course, Alex somehow wasn't aware? Nay. He discarded the foolish notion. How could a man not be aware of travelling halfway across England and back in the space of a night?

  A stifled yawn caught Finn's attention.

  “You need some sleep, a chailín. We'll stop in York for a few hours.”

  “Nay.” Emma rubbed her eyes. “We don't need to do that.”

  “Aye, we do.” His concern for her included his awareness of her delicate condition, although he knew better than to mention it. “I'll hear no argument. I have to find us a second horse anyway, and this one needs a rest. There's a decent inn close to the Minster. Hopefully, they'll have a room you can use.”

  She yawned again.

  “Finn?”

  “Aye.”

  “Do you think losing my brooch was a sign?”

  “A sign of what?”

  “That I'm to lose Stephen's love as well?”

  “I think fatigue is twisting your thoughts.” He pulled the curtain of thick hair back from her face. “Losing the brooch is a sign the catch was loose. Nothing more. Don't use superstitious reasoning to explain accidental events, lass. 'Tis an unhealthy pastime.”

  He saw her hand drop to her belly. She shivered and looked toward the west where the land still lay in darkness. Her sense of foreboding touched him like a cold hand.

  “Argante's out there somewhere,” she murmured. “I can feel him.”

  “Fear not, little one.” He lifted her fingers to his lips. “Argante's days are numbered. He'll not hurt you again.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The stars elongated, twisting into brilliant threads of heavenly silk, weaving a silver tapestry across the sky. Beyond that lay the black timeless realm of infinity, a kingdom without horizons.

  Alex watched, entranced by the beauty, wondering why it all looked and felt so familiar. He reached out, searching for the one who brought him on this journey.

  I'm always with you, Alicia. Always.

  He waited, listening to silence as an understanding took shape in his mind. Alicia had not asked for him. Not this time. The cry for help had come from his child, more terrified of life than death, wandering aimlessly, lost and without hope.

  Bless her soul, she'd called out to him, begging forgiveness as she approached the jagged edge of her life. He pulled her back just in time, showed her the light, and saw hope flare anew in her eyes. Alicia's eyes. Her child. Their child.

 
; Dear God in Heaven, forgive me my doubt.

  “Alex.”

  The voice startled him. His quiet heart leapt into a sudden gallop, the intensity of it squeezing the breath from his lungs.

  “Alex, beloved. Please wake up. The horses are going crazy. I think there's someone in the barn.”

  Althena. She was calling him home, but he didn't want to return. Not yet. It would mean facing the truth.

  “Alex, please. What's wrong? Alex.”

  The fear in her voice stirred a deep-rooted instinct within him, a need to protect and defend those in need, especially those he loved. He knew Emma was safe. He knew he had to go back.

  With that simple thought, the stars stopped their wondrous frolic, folded in on themselves and disappeared. Alex had the impression they'd been pulled into a deep dark hole. He heard a sickening snap, like the crack of a rib, and felt a burning stab of pain behind his eyes.

  Something feather-light and cool caressed his brow.

  “Please. Please wake up, my love.”

  He did so, and in a heartbeat, all that he had seen in sleep was lost to him, washed away like a footprint in the tide.

  “Althena?” The fear in her eyes jolted him awake. “What's wrong, lass?” He tried to sit up, wincing at the pain that lanced through every limb.

  Christ, what the hell is going on?

  “Oh, thank God. I couldn't wake you. I thought for a moment ...” She rested a cool hand against his cheek. “Do you feel ill? You look so tired. Mind you, I'm not surprised.”

  He took in a deep breath. Even that hurt. “Nay, I'm not ill. Just weary.” He managed a wry smile. “I feel like I lost a fight. What do you mean, you're not surprised?”

  A horse whinnied outside.

  “Alex, the barn. I'm sure there's something or someone out there.”

  “Easy, my love. 'Tis probably nothing.”

  Since the attack, Althena lived in fear of what might be lurking in the forest. Alex cursed Argante daily, and persistently renewed his vow to hunt him down and kill him. But so far, Althena had flatly refused to be left alone at the cottage.

  With a stifled groan, he struggled to his feet.

  “But what if it's him?” Althena glanced at the shuttered window, where the first hint of daylight poked through the gaps.

  “If it's him...” Alex pulled her close and kissed her forehead, “...he does not have long to live.” He frowned at the sleeves covering his arms. When had he dressed? “Did I get up in the night, lass?”

  Althena blinked. “Aye. You were restless all night. Don't you remember? You rose soon after we went to bed, and you only came back a short while ago.” She clutched a handful of his shirt as more whinnies sounded outside. “Do you hear that?”

  “Aye, I do.” He ignored the questions in his head and smiled at her. “I'll go and see what's upsetting them.”

  With another kiss, this one on her lips, he set her gently aside, lifted the scabbard from the table and drew his sword. “Bar the door after me, sweetheart.”

  She nodded, wide-eyed. “Be careful.”

  A fresh winter's morning awaited him outside, but little else, just as he expected. He sensed nothing, at least nothing threatening. Even the weather held a promise of kindness, albeit a chilly one. The sky above the eastern forest glowed with a soft, pale light, outlining the stark branches of ancient trees. A few clouds drifted overhead, but none were inflated with the weight of snow or rain.

  Alex's warm breath took shape as it met the cold air. He twirled his blade upwards in a nonchalant gesture, resting it against his shoulder, his eyes turning to the west where a few stars still twinkled among the remnants of night. A prickle ran across his scalp at the sight of them.

  Something had occurred last night, he knew for certain. But what? And why did he hurt so damn much? More importantly, why did he feel as though he'd experienced this before - the fatigue, the pain, the loss of time?

  Somewhere off to the right a blackbird struck up a cheerful song, an echo of spring strangely out of place. Alex stood in silence, listening, focused on every layer of his surroundings. He scanned the edge of the forest, seeing only the twisted shadows of trees and hints of ghostly woodland mist. But nothing moved, nothing dangerous lurked in the dark.

  The barn door was closed as he'd left it, but some marks on the ground caught his attention. He strode over and crouched down, running his fingertips across the indentations in the earth. Hooves - large hooves - and only three of them shod. The back-left shoe had been cast. Someone had been here, after all, and Alex knew who it was.

  A slow smile spread across his face.

  A knight's relationship with his horse was iron-clad, forged from trust and a deep understanding of what one expected from the other. It was a partnership between warrior and beast made to stand the test of many challenges, time included.

  Sadly, many did not survive the brutality of human conflict. Horses fell in battle just as men did. Under the protection of the stone Alex had been fortunate, as had the feisty, courageous animal who had been his companion for nigh on twenty-six years.

  He knew those hoof prints as well as he knew the backs of his own hands.

  “Bart, you sneaky old rogue.” With a grimace of pain, he rose to his feet and glanced around. “Where are you, lad?”

  Althena was on all fours in the bedroom when Alex returned. He stood in the doorway and cleared his throat. She jumped, uttered a quiet curse, and reached under the table for something.

  Alex smiled at her reaction. “There's nothing to be scared of, leannan. Everything is secure.”

  “How do you do that?” she asked, without turning around.

  “Do what?”

  “Enter through a door that is barred on the inside.”

  Alex chuckled. “'Tis one of my many talents. And right now, seeing you like that, I've an urge to show you another. Come out to the barn with me, Althena.”

  She sat back on her heels and twisted to look at him, a grin brightening her face. “The barn? Alexander Mathanach. What has gotten into you?”

  “Me? You're the one crawling around on the floor with your sweet backside in the air. What on earth are you doing?”

  “Picking up the contents of this box.” It sat on the floor next to her. “I leaned over the table to watch you through the gap in the shutters and knocked it onto the floor. Nothing's broken though.”

  “Good. Then come out to the barn. There's something I need to show you.”

  She laughed. “Alright. I think I've got everything. Oh! Almost missed this.” She bent over, reached under the bed and held out a small gold object. “A wedding band?”

  He took the ring from her and placed it in his palm. So delicate, he thought, so precious. A tiny circle of Welsh gold.

  “Alicia's wedding band,” he murmured.

  “You didn't...that is, she wasn't buried with it?” Althena's face showed surprise, then regret. “Forgive me. I didn't mean –”

  “Nothing to forgive, lass. 'Tis a fair question. The answer is I didn't know where the ring was when she died. Turned out it was tucked into Emma's swaddling clothes against her chest.”

  More proof of your denied infidelity, Alicia? Guilt has a sharp edge, does it not? I can understand why you removed my token of love while you gave yourself to Edward. But why the hell would you place it next to his child's heart?

  “Alex.” Althena's fingers scooped up the ring and dropped it in the box. “You want to show me something?” Love shone in her eyes, pure and uncomplicated. He tied his fraying trust back into a tight knot.

  “Aye, I do. Follow me.”

  Althena wept as he knew she would. Hell's teeth, his own eyes were hot with unshed tears. Bart peered at them over his stall door, his noble features marked with the consequences of Argante's attack. A ragged line of dried blood ran down the side of his face, from his left ear to the edge of his mouth. His nose was one massive scab, parts of it oozing pus.

  “I'm glad it's cold,” said Ale
x, “or the flies would be troublesome for him.”

  “I can't believe it,” Althena sobbed. “Thank God he's alive. I wonder where he's been all this time? I'll make a poultice for those wounds, the poor old man.”

  Alex reached out to stroke the stallion's neck. The horse rolled his eyes and jerked his head upwards, his message clear: Don't touch.

  Alex sighed. “I'm not sure he'll let you near him. He wouldn't even let me lead him into the barn. I just opened the door and in he went. Even in battle, I've never seen him this nervous. I fear his scars go beyond what we see.”

  Emma, Althena and now Bart. All poisoned by that evil bastard.

  “I'm so glad he came home.” Althena slipped her fingers through Alex's. “Now we just have to wait for Emma and Stephen.”

  A twinge of apprehension twisted in Alex's gut and his mind once again toyed with an obscure memory. Yet nothing bad could have happened, or Finn would have contacted him. Then why the sense of foreboding? Did he fear telling Emma the truth? Nay, it was time she knew about her mother. Was it guilt, perhaps?

  Aye, Alicia. Guilt does have a sharp edge. I know, for I feel it all the time, ripping into my own conscience. None of this would have happened but for me. None of it.

  As he had done so many times before, Alex silently cursed the night he'd let Argante live.

  * * *

  Like a displaced gargoyle, Argante stood on the summit of Black Combe, savouring the chill in the air, curling a distorted lip in disapproval of the sunrise. He abhorred the sun. It hurt him, lashing his tender skin with unbearable heat. He'd found comfort in the onset of winter and the cool Cumberland rain was always a blessing. But nowadays he still preferred the night.

  His chaotic mind had a vague awareness of the world spread out at his feet; a patchwork of subdued winter colours ending at the misty grey expanse of the Irish Sea. Behind him lay the fells of Cumberland, the ancient range of slate crags as dangerous as they were magnificent.

  But his impaired vision was focused on a thin column of smoke rising up through the distant trees. It marked the location of the house. Alex's house.

  “You Scottish whoreson.” He tried to shout, but his voice stumbled over heat-damaged vocal chords and finished in a fit of coughing. “You...you and your black-haired whore. I didn't hit her hard enough. You need to teach her some manners, my lord. She was very rude, screaming like that for no reason.”