Jamie and the others looked closely at the procession. Its head had already reached the deep newly dug ditch surrounding the circle. In the lead was a man wearing a sealskin cape—a short man with curly black hair and beard tinged with gray. Jamie gasped. It was Urkar.
This other Urkar held a wooden staff. Its shaft was twisted and braided, and at the top were three carved figures.
Singing a clear rhythmic chant, the procession crossed the earthen causeway and entered the circle. As they did, some glanced to where the four watchers stood, but they clearly saw nothing except stone and heather. It’s like being a wraith, Jamie thought with a shudder. Beside her, Arni jumped and waved his arms about, delighting in invisibility, until Urkar hissed, “Be still and watch.”
Now the people were forming a circle within the circle of stone. Alone in its center stood the visible Urkar. As he raised the staff to the pale lavender sky, a chink of gold glinted on the rim of the eastern hills. Slowly the sun rose higher, and so did the chanting voices. The waiting stones turned from gray to gold.
The invisible Urkar turned to his companions. His voice was dry and bitter.
“Looks peaceful, doesn’t it? A happy sacred ceremony completing this great work. Ha! That’s how it would seem to those without the power to see more. But I did have the power, and so do you. Tiy. Look beyond this flat picture to the creative forces straining to connect with these stones and to those other forces seeking to destroy that tie. It’s all there.”
He began to hum a sharp piercing note that sliced into Jamie’s mind and set her thoughts vibrating with it. The scene in front of her seemed to thin. The more she concentrated, the thinner it became, until the figures seemed nothing but faded paper cutouts against a background that was darkening by the second.
Black clouds were boiling over the horizon, rushing forward with speed greater than the wind’s. The seething edges were rimmed with pale green lightning. The three children shrank against the stones, but the crowd of people seemed totally unaware of what was bearing down upon them.
“What’s happening?” Arni whispered.
Urkar’s voice was harsh. “The forces of destruction trying to prevent this work of creation. They were too strong, too swift. Watch.”
The man holding the staff looked uneasily over his shoulder at something those around him couldn’t see; then he raised his voice in a new, urgent chant. The stones in the circle began to glow, not with sunrise but with inner power. Brighter and brighter they grew, until they became giant crystals of light. Then, like a fountain, their radiance shot upward, columns of light piercing toward the stars.
Inside the circle, the people took no notice even of this, though the man in the center again looked behind him and changed the speed of his chant. Raising the staff against the swirling, dark sky, he brought it down sharply, driving its point into the earth. The staff, too, began to glow, and thin tendrils of light began spreading from it over the ground toward the ring of stones.
Then came the thunder: a cataclysmic explosion that shook earth, sky, and sea and set the stones tottering. At last the people seemed to notice something. They scanned the sky to see if a distant storm was coming.
Like a vengeful spear, lightning struck, a bolt of vivid green shooting from the mountainous blackness. It pierced the glowing staff and, in an explosion of light, burst it apart. The cry of its bearer was lost under a final concussion of thunder.
When Jamie’s sight recovered from the blast, she again saw the summer morning. But now the people were crying and wailing, picking themselves up from the ground and staring in horror at what lay before them. Their leader was sprawled, a charred heap in the heather. Nearby, three smoldering gashes showed where the sundered parts of his staff had burned their way into the earth.
A girl with raven-black hair gave a pained ciy and ran forward to kneel by the body. But all life had been burned from it.
Jamie realized she was clutching both Arni and Tyaak. Instead of pulling away, she looked in wonder at the man beside her. His lined face was damp with tears.
“Uthna, my daughter. She, too, had the power, and it is through her that, in time, it came to you. But I had clouded her sight that day. I spared her from seeing the threat that was gathering and the danger in that final ceremony.”
Abruptly he looked away from the scene and stared over the moors. His whole body was trembling, and Jamie almost wanted to put an arm around him.
Struggling to control his voice, Urkar continued. “They buried me that day, there in the center of the circle. The three pieces of the staff were left where they had fallen, hidden beneath the quickly healing heather.”
“Then—the evil won?” Arni said, aghast.
Urkar shook his head. “No, not entirely, not then. The creative magic was weakened, but the shattered staff still remained within the circle, adding some of its power to that of the stones.
“And, of course, I was there, too. My task had never been completed, so I remained to watch over this pillar of life, to help it hold back any looming storm.
“For centuries I succeeded. Within the circle, my power remained strong enough to thwart any threat from magic or from evil intent. But time was at work too. Stones toppled; some were hauled off; and, far worse, one by one the three buried staffs were found and removed. No magic was involved, simply ignorance and chance, so I was powerless to stop it.”
“Couldn’t you just go get them back?” Arni asked.
Urkar gave a frustrated sigh. “No, there is nothing much left of me except power, and even that is strongest in this circle. I can leave its bounds, but only in some other, weaker form.” Abruptly he turned back to face them. “But you three are alive. You have physical bodies of your own, and you carry a power as great as mine.”
Arni smiled broadly. “So we are going to bring back the three sticks?”
“Yes.”
Tyaak shook his head, violently sweeping the air with his dark crested mane. “What if we do not choose to go?”
Urkar spun upon him. “Choose? Did I choose to devote my life, not to family and friends, but to building a massive circle of power? Did I choose to die for it? Did I, a person with all the patience of boiling water, choose to spend eternity guarding that circle? No! I did not choose the power I was born with or the time I was born into—and neither did you. Of all my descendants, only you unlikely three happen to be alive at the right times to have even a hope of retrieving the staffs. You are untaught, yes, but together you may have enough raw power to manage it. But don’t mistake me. It is not a choice I am giving you. It is an assignment.”
Tyaak continued to argue, but Jamie had stopped listening. Suddenly a trembling smile spread over her face, and she burst in, “You’re a ghost, aren’t you?”
“What? A ghost? Nonsense, I have better things to do than mope around haunting people.”
“But you died. I saw it.”
“Of course I died. At some point in the stream of time, every one of you has died.”
“Don’t try to hide it in science fiction gibberish,” Jamie said firmly. “You died, but you’re still around. So you’re a ghost.”
Urkar gave an exasperated snort. “You are impossible! Look, will it make you happier somehow, having me be a ghost?”
Jamie smiled evenly. “All my life I just wanted to prove that I could see a ghost if one was around. If I’ve finally won that one, I might be willing to take on a little something more.”
Urkar tore at his hair in annoyance. “All right, all right! I’m a ghost. Boo! Now, can we get on with it?”
Chapter Seven
When the gray mist swirled them away, it was at a more leisurely pace than before. Fighting dizziness, Jamie tried to concentrate on the instructions Urkar was giving them, but it was harder and harder to follow the words. His voice became a distant blur blending into a steady roar. The roar of wind.
She was lying on the heather within a broken stone circle. It was daytime, cold and wet. Jamie pull
ed herself up.
“Right,” she said aloud. “I hit my head and have been having majorly weird dreams all night. I’d better get back before my folks call the police.”
She strode off toward the road, then staggered to a halt. At the same moment she’d noticed that the road wasn’t paved, that not as many stones were toppled as ought to be, and that she was wearing leather boots and a coarsely woven blue dress that hung below her knees.
“No!” She spun around. Her two young companions were still there. Arni was wearing what he had been, but now Tyaak was in a similar outfit. The half-Kreeth angrily threw back the wool hood from his bristling hair and glared about.
“Where is Urkar? Gone! Well, that lunatic may have dumped us here—whenever ‘here’ is—but I do not choose to stay. I do not choose to be part of this whole bizarre species!”
On behalf of humanity, Jamie objected. “Well, we certainly aren’t any more bizarre than you, with your skin the color of swamp water and your hair like a half-shaved porcupine. None of us chose this, like Urkar said. What we’ve got to do now is figure out how to get out of it.”
“That’s simple,” Arni said brightly. “All we have to do is find the missing staffs, and we’re free.”
Tyaak looked at him skeptically. “All right, Mr. Apprentice Wizard, do you know where they are?”
The boy’s smile faded. “No, but magic should be able to help us.”
“And you have some idea how to work magic?” Jamie asked.
Miserably Arni shook his head. “I wish Urkar had told us more. I always thought I had the power, but with the new religion around, no one dares teach it. I’m naturally good at finding things, but I don’t know if that’s magic or simply figuring out the sort of place something is likely to be. I don’t know if I’ve ever actually worked magic.”
He looked as if he were trying not to cry. Jamie stepped over and said, “That’s okay, I don’t either. My attempts were always busts … or crazy imagination.”
Then she looked at Tyaak. “What about you? When Urkar asked if you’d ever done anything odd, you clammed up.”
“If I did, it is my business.” He looked away, then abruptly turned back. “But there is something very odd about this whole thing.”
Jamie smirked. “Really? Just one thing?”
His eyes narrowed. “Either you are very stupid or you are part of a plot. How are we able to speak to each other? Urkar claims that he is from the Neolithic period, maybe six thousand years before my time, you two are from around the eleventh and twentieth centuries while I’m from the twenty-sixth. But languages change; people spread through time like that could not possibly understand each other. So this must either be a colossal hoax set up to fool me or—”
“Or it must be magic,” Arni put in. “If magic can put you two into sensible clothes instead of those outlandish things you had on, then why can’t it make you speak my language? Someone who goes around acting as superior as you ought to be able to figure that out.”
“Now look, brat… ”
Jamie stepped between them. “Hey, like it or not, we’re stuck with each other here. Let’s try to find those staffs and get this over with. Arni, since this seems to be your world, have you any ideas where we should start?”
“Birsay, I guess. That’s where I’m from and where Earl Thorfinn lives when he’s not off raiding or fighting other Vikings.”
Tyaak was staring off into the distance. “Well, perhaps those horsemen can give us a ride to this Birsay of yours.”
Arni spun around, clutching the dagger hanging at his side. “Sure, unless they’re enemies.” Quickly he looked back at his companions and the short daggers on their own belts. “Swords against daggers. No good. We’re better off if they don’t notice us.” He sprinted to hide behind a stone.
Before Jamie could follow him, she realized it was too late. The three horsemen coming over the moors had veered toward them and picked up speed. Jamie pelted past the stones, scrambled through the ditch, and took off at a run toward a large grassy hillock. A burial mound, she remembered from the tourist placard, and if it was open like that one on the hillside, she might be able to hide inside.
The air filled with yelling voices and the muffled thud of horse hooves. Jamie skidded around the mound, only to find it covered with unbroken glass. A shadow darkened the ground, and an arm reached down and hauled her roughly onto the back of a horse.
“Got one!” the man clutching her yelled. “Is that the lot?”
As Jamie struggled, the arm tightened and a coarse greasy beard scratched the back of her neck. One whiff confirmed that she was no longer in an age of mouthwash and deodorant.
“Let me go!” she heard Arni yell. “I’m Arni Arnorson. My father is Earl Thorfinn’s skald. He—”
“—would be missing a son,” a deep voice interrupted, “if we’d been supporters of the late Earl Rogenvald instead of followers of Thorfinn, his killer. But have no fear, Arni Arnorson, your red hair marks you halfway across the island. We were only having a bit of fun. Besides, you and your friends ought to stay clear of this circle. You know what the priests think of these places.”
Arni snorted. “Well, priests don’t know anything. And I am a person of power, a descendant of Eithne the Sorceress, so no one had better meddle with me.”
The man laughed. “Oh, excuse me, most powerful Arni Arnorson. Will you use magic to waft back to Birsay, or would you accept a ride?”
Arni’s voice shrank a little. “A ride would be appreciated.”
The man laughed again. “And who are these other two, then? I don’t recall seeing them about.”
Arni looked to where Jamie and Tyaak were each seated in front of another rider. “Uh, no…. The girl is the daughter of a trader from Caithness. And the boy … uh, he is a slave sent as a gift to Earl Thorfinn by someone he met on his pilgrimage to Rome.”
If she hadn’t been so uncomfortable herself, Jamie would have laughed at Tyaak’s expression. She wondered if Kreeth tended to bite. This one certainly looked as if he could.
The man holding the alien boy looked him over critically. “They do say there are odd-looking folk south of here. I’ll not doubt them anymore.”
The others nodded, impressed, while Tyaak looked angry enough to explode. “Well, enough dallying,” the leader said. “The Earl needs to hear our news. It’s not likely that Rogenvald’s followers will attack before spring, but a warning will give Thorfinn the whole winter to prepare.”
They jolted across the heather to a narrow dirt road. Jamie had always liked riding, though she wasn’t a horse fanatic like some of her friends, but this shaggy beast’s jarring gait did not make for a delightful ride, especially not when she was crushed between the animal’s neck and a large smelly Viking. And the overwhelming fear and strangeness didn’t help either.
The moorland looked more tended than it had in that brief glimpse they’d had of Urkar’s time. There were well-marked fields and pastures, and an occasional huddle of stone houses. But this was also clearly not the Orkney on which she’d just been vacationing, with its paved roads and television antennas. The salt wind whipping at her face tore away Jamie’s last shred of hope that this was a dream. In its place sat a hollow chilling fear. This was real, and it was up to three clueless kids to get out of it.
So maybe she’d better start with a crash course in current events. Trying to sound as casual as possible on this jolting horse, she said, “So, tell me more about this news you’re bringing.”
The man snorted. “Some wool merchant’s brat wants to be part of state councils? Well, no matter, the word will be out soon enough. King Harald of Norway is out to avenge the death of his Orkney ally, Earl Rogenvald. He’s promised men, ships, and arms to Rogenvald’s followers to move against Earl Thorfinn. So when the seas warm in the spring, any of you merchants still around may find yourselves in the midst of a grand battle.”
Jamie frowned, wishing she had read a bit more of those guidebooks. Wh
o were those people? Well, it probably didn’t matter, as long as they could find that wretched stick and get out of here—soon.
Their road threaded through the moor, crested a hill, and swept down toward the sea. Fields and houses clustered more thickly near the shore; beyond a stretch of choppy gray water, a wedge-shaped island tilted out of the sea. More buildings clustered on its lower, landward side.
The wind was stronger here and whipped the horse’s mane into Jamie’s face. Heading north of the mainland village, they stopped on a low cliff opposite the island. She and the other two passengers were swung roughly to the ground.
“You’re on your own from here, O great Arni Arnorson,” the leader of the men said. “Now just you remember this kindness when you set about casting evil spells.” Laughing, the men guided their horses down a steep path to the beach.
Without getting too close to the cliff’s edge, Jamie watched them. “Where are they going?” she asked Arni.
“Just down to the beach. The tide’s nearly far enough out to cross over.”
She studied the narrow channel of gray water between the shore and the island. Along a straight strip, it was churned into white foam with occasional rocks bereaking the surface. “You mean when the tide’s out, that’s not an island?”
The red-haired boy nodded. “For several hours at low tide, you can walk across at just this one spot. That’s what makes it such a good defensible stronghold for the Earl. No one can easily attack by land.”
Taking shelter from the wind behind a grassy hillock, the three waited and watched the spine of exposed rock gradually widen. The first to break the silence was Tyaak.
Storm at the Edge of Time Page 5
