Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture

by Ruth A. Casie

  The major was the first to come forward. “I swear I will protect and defend you and your family to the best of my ability. So let it be.”

  Arik extended his hand to the major. “So let it be.” The major stared at Arik’s hand and clasped it soundly then received one of the disks. The man took off the chain he wore around his neck. He added his new talisman then put the chain back on.

  George was next then one by one each man came forward and pledged themselves to Lord Arik and received the Fayne talisman.

  “I am proud to be one of you. Each of you has proven your valor and strength to your country. I am honored you are now of Fayne Manor.” He stood in the midst of George and his soldiers, their eyes shining with pride and brotherhood.

  George led the men back through the tunnel and into the garrison.

  Arik followed behind the men, closing and securing the sanctuary. He wasn’t surprised by their reaction but he was proud that to a man they all stood with him.

  “Thank you, Major, for stepping forward,” Arik said.

  “Two nights ago I saw how you took care of the men. You made certain everyone was accounted for, consoled the injured, lighten their spirits and, at your own risk, saved Bill. You are a principled, fair leader who cares about his men. How could I not serve you?”

  “Thank you,” he said as they stood in front of the gatehouse.

  “About the sword demonstration, what do you think of Steven?” the major asked.

  “I watched his eyes as we fought. He was thinking and learning with each step. He used my own tactics against me. He’s a good student and learns fast. Once he increases his stamina he’ll be an excellent swordsman. Yes, mark him for one of the sword master positions. And make certain you include deep breathing exercises, push-ups, sit-ups and plenty of stretching in tomorrow’s training. They need to work on their shoulders, back and arm muscles to sustain a sword fight.”

  “The restoration of the village should help with the body building. Fixing those stone houses will have the men lifting blocks all day.” The Major started off for the village.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The lights of several cars parked at odd angles in the manor drive flashed through the library windows at syncopated intervals, giving the room a harsh blue glow. “This way, sir.” Charles showed their guest into the library.

  “Dr. Tyler, Mr. Hughes, I’m Detective Chief Inspector Bardsley.” He gave an envelope to George. “I spoke with the fire warden about the incident at your mill. The evidence was all there. It took less than a week to come to a conclusion. He has confirmed it was arson. There is the final report.” Arik joined Rebeka.

  George read through the documents. “Yes, he sent a copy to my office.”

  Arik and George had agreed with the fire warden’s findings. It wasn’t a huge leap of faith. The accelerant was proof enough.

  “Dr. Tyler.” Rebeka gave the man her attention. “Your student…” He read through his small spiral notebook. “Yes, Marle. She gave us a description of the two who attacked your man.” He thumbed through his pad. “Bill. We have them in custody. Caught them in a minor traffic accident. The young lady is quite perceptive. She gave us a good description of the men and the tattoo. It supports Bill’s statement. She’ll have to identify them but that is only a formality.”

  “Marle? ”Arik asked as he stepped forward.

  “Yes, when we questioned the students, she and her friend…” more rummaging through his notebook, “…John, said they had been at the mill. It was ‘their place,’ she said. Anyway, when they heard people coming they rushed into the woods then Bill arrived. A few minutes later the suspects pulled Bill out of the building. The men rolled up their sleeves. That’s when Marle and John smelled gasoline and saw the tats on one of them. She called it a heta. They took off through the woods, ran back here and woke everyone.”

  So that’s how Marle and John knew about the fire. Arik had assumed they saw the fire or smelled the smoke as he had and roused the men.

  “Heta? Are you sure that’s what she said?” Arik asked.

  “She drew it for me.” Bardsley showed Arik and Rebeka his pad. “Bill confirmed this is what he saw.”

  “Thank you, Chief Inspector. We’re glad this is closed,” Rebeka said.

  “I wouldn’t call this closed just yet. Why did they torch the mill? These men do things for money. I want to know who is behind this and what else they plan. We can assign some guards—”

  “That won’t be necessary,” George said. “We have our own men on it. But let’s keep communications open. As legal representative for Dr. Tyler you can forward everything to me. I’d like to be at the interrogation.”

  “I’ll contact your office as soon as those arrangements have been made. Well, that’s all for now. Dr. Tyler, Mr. Hughes. I’ll find my own way out.”

  They watched the blue lights fade as the cars left the drive.

  “Heta is a Latin H. It must be Bran’s mark,” Rebeka said as Arik looked out the window.

  “It’s similar. The mill is warded. Bran or his men couldn’t get past them.”

  “Are you certain?” Rebeka asked.

  “Yes.” The thought that there was another threat was…uncomfortable but he was certain it came from this century, not his.

  “Then who’s behind setting the fire and why?”

  “We should be back by midafternoon,” Rebeka told Arik and George as she got into the waiting car with Cora. “The archivist at the Overbury Estate found a document containing a reference to Mannis. It’s not the proclamation but it’s worth reviewing. The photo she sent had runes in the margins that no one could decipher.”

  Arik hoped she was right. He had been helping her and her senior students search through the old documents. It was a tedious process. Written in a variety of languages, each document had to be scrutinized for any reference that might lead them to information. They had several dead ends but this one appeared promising. They had only fifteen days until the Trust’s deadline. While he helped Rebeka, George and Cora were digging into the financial questions the Trust raised.

  “I know the connection between Alfred and Mannis was hidden but it appears to be nonexistent.” She gave him a worried glance.

  “They’re well hidden but they exist. We found Doward’s account. There’ll be others. We’ll find it.” He stepped away from the car. She gave him a watery smile and pulled away.

  “Are you as certain as you sound?” George asked as they started for the garden house to take an inventory of the weapons. Arik brought his attention back to George.

  “I’ll stay positive until we’ve exhaust all our options.” He was baffled that everything from 1570 to 1670 was missing. Either the documents were truly lost or they contained information that someone wanted hidden. Deep in his bones he knew they still existed. With luck, Rebeka would have some success. He and George entered the garden house and made their way to the weapons room to determine which weapons to use for demonstrating the smithy’s work.

  “What about these?” Arik focused on the swords.

  “I’ve contacted my father’s former colleague.” George cataloged the swords and noted what repairs needed to be made. “He asked for an inventory of what needed to be restored.” He held up the list. “Other than their dulled edges and points, the quality of these weapons is excellent. Your idea of having the guests watch the repairs is a good one.”

  Someone knocked on the door frame. “Excuse me.”

  Arik put down the sword. “Yes?” He spun around. Joan stood inside the doorway.

  “Is Dr. Tyler here?” Joan surveyed the room.

  “She’s gone to Overbury. Is it something urgent?” Joan was one of the students going through the library documents searching for the proclamation.

  “I found this parchment in one of the codices. It doesn’t belong with the information on herbal remedies I’m reviewing.”

  “Are you certain?” Arik asked. She gave him the document.

&n
bsp; “It’s part of a scroll and appears out of place—much older. If you read the text you’ll see it’s written by several people and there’s a variety of languages. I’m pretty good with many of the Celtic dialects but I can only read a phrase or two of these.”

  The touch of the document set the hairs on the back of Arik’s neck on end. The document was papyrus and well preserved. “May I keep this, Joan? As soon as I am finished here I can give this my full attention.”

  “Sure. I’ll check back with you later. Thanks.” Arik handed the text to George and waited until Joan left the room.

  “It seems Joan has found one of the druid texts.” George scanned the document.

  “I’m surprised she could read past the enchantment. She’s right about it being written by several different people. See, each author has their sigil at the end of their line.” He pointed to one of the symbols. Arik rolled it up with care. “I’ll see to this after we’ve finished here.”

  Three hours later George got into his motorcar and rolled down the window. “Let me know what that’s all about.” He nodded toward the rolled-up document. “You’re pocket’s ringing.” George nodded to Arik’s shirt.

  Arik pulled his cell phone and read the display.

  “I’ll get the inventory out. The sooner we begin the repairs, the better,” George said and drove out the gate.

  “Rebeka.”

  “Cora and I are on our way back. There were runes in the margin of one of their documents. I had to chant to read it. The document was from Chippenham and mentions Mannis assisting Alfred the Great. We reviewed the entire document but it only had the one reference. We’re going to go out to dinner. I’ll see you later.” It wasn’t enough. Her voice was filled with disappointment. Perhaps the evening out with Cora would boost her spirits.

  “I’ve a call coming in from Louise. I’m sure it’s to remind us the Trust expects the document in twenty days. See you later.” She ended the call. He was as disappointed as she sounded. However, if they found this reference there was bound to be more.

  Arik went to the tower. Like the writing on his walls, the words in the document were locked away from prying eyes. He muttered the words to release the enchantment. A few of the symbols unlocked. The shock of his inability to unchain the others sobered him. “Faith.” He should’ve known when he touched the document and sensed the presence of the former Grand Masters that the protection was deep.

  He closed his eyes and quieted his mind as he took a deep breath. Calmly he exhaled and visualized all his turbulent and worried thoughts forced out of his mind when he exhaled. Two more breaths and he was ready. His mind free and the tension gone, he went deeper until he found that quiet place. At ease, he visualized his intent and whispered the chant that would summon the golden key. It resisted him.

  This protection was deeper still. Although he knew it was possible, he had never come across a document with protection this intense. He concentrated harder and continued his chant.

  His eyelids fluttered and a plain brass key took form suspended in front of him. The first part done, he moved on to the next chant. The key turned slowly at first, in time with the cadence of his chant. Faster and faster he chanted until the key was a spinning golden oval of light. He spoke the final verse and the whirling orb brightened and burst into a million pieces. He opened his eyes and watched as sparks of light dance across the document, revealing the text as it passed along. Another deep breath followed by a silent thank-you. He took his pen and was ready to begin.

  The text held crucial information about the portal and its workings. The various sigils adorning the margins of the text were a testament to the number of ancient Grand Masters who provided their opinions and enhancements to the portal’s evolution over the past thousand years. Some spoke of warding the area and others anchored the portal to the great standing stones. There was mention of the scrying mirror’s magick.

  Arik continued on for several more hours. Even though he unlocked the document, he researched and cross-referenced his translation using the books in his library. The day had turned cool and overcast. The threat of a heavy rainstorm hung in the air. The tower room was dark. The lamp on the table lit a small section of it. The rest of the room glowed from the light in the hearth. Arik was two-thirds down the page. He read over his notes and froze.

  He struck out the last three lines and translated them again. But by the time he reached the second group of symbols he knew he would get the same answer—there was no other meaning.

  No, he wouldn’t accept the answer. For the past five days between working with the men on the mill, village repairs and with Rebeka searching for the proclamation, Arik worked on the druid document. He found a few differences in the translation but they all ended the same.

  Finally, he threw down the pen and rose from the table. With one hand on his hip and the other rubbing the back of his neck, he paced the small room like a caged animal. He reread the translation, searching for any little nuance that would change the meaning.

  On one hand the document gave the key for using the scrying mirror to return while on the other hand, she could never return home. And it was his fault. He stood at the wall for hours and traced the runes he put there so many centuries ago. He searched for a more agreeable translation but deep in his heart he knew he wouldn’t find one. At sunrise he was still at his table. His hand, resting on the pad with his notes, fisted and crumpled the paper into a ball. He stood and threw it into the hearth. It flared as the paper went up in smoke along with all his dreams.

  He marched to the pells holding the heaviest practice sword he could find. The storm that was building in the sky couldn’t compete with the tempest that raged inside him. By the time he got to the practice field with its wooden posts, the light mist had turned into a steady drizzle.

  He took hold of the weapon’s grip and circled around the first post, tapping it with the flat of his blade. He never took his eyes off the round pumpkin someone had impaled on the top of the post. The strength of his taps increased as if he were evaluating his opponent, until he stood in front of the post and let loose a barrage of strikes that cut into the hard wood.

  The rain came down in sheets but he didn’t stop. The sound of his sword against the wood filled the pell and echoed in his ears until all he heard were his grunts and splintering wood. He punished the post, first slicing off the bark then moving on to downward and upward strokes, whittling it away until it was a mere stump.

  The pumpkin, made into mash at his onset, littered the area. Splinters of wood were everywhere. He stood soaked and panting, holding his sword ready to attack the next post.

  “There are easier ways to make toothpicks,” Rebeka said.

  He washed the expression off his face before he turned to face her. “You’re drenched.” He pushed his hair out of his eyes and came out of his daze. “How long have you been standing there?” He had attacked the wooden post as if he were a berserker. Now his arms were limp and his energy spent but it didn’t change anything.

  She had her shawl over her head but she was as wet as he was.

  “Long enough. I came to see what was happening. It sounded as though there was an army out here. I didn’t expect to see you taking on the pells by yourself.”

  The tension in his shoulders eased. What to tell her? He put his arm around her and they started back toward the manor. He needed a plan. His misery hung around his neck like an ox’s yoke. He’d lose them all—Logan, Skylar, Aubrey. Raw grief tore at him as he realized he’d never see them again.

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He kept his eyes forward. “There is nothing to talk about. I needed to—”

  “Kill something, obviously.” They continued on until they got to the manor kitchen where Helen and Charles were having a cup of tea. “Oh dear, you have been strolling in the rain. Wait right there.” Helen rose and left the room.

  “Here, let me take that.” Charles relieved Arik of the sword. “I’ll bri
ng it to the garrison.”

  Helen returned and handed them each towels. “Now upstairs with you both. I’ll have some hot soup for you when you’re ready.”

  They entered the tower room. He got out of his clothes, toweled off and tucked the cloth around his waist.

  Rebeka wasn’t quite into her towel when he pulled her into his arms. She didn’t resist. He ran his hand over her back. She was already warm to his touch. His gaze traveled from her warm, tender eyes, to her strong shoulders, to her tempting breasts.

  He took her face in his hands and drew her to him. Passion turned her violet eyes a dark purple that smoldered and sent heat coursing through his veins. He kissed her lips as if he was a sinner in need of redemption.

  Her answering moan fueled his hunger for her.

  With care he placed her on the bed and lay next to her. He nibbled and kissed her neck, taking in the scent of her skin.

  She worked her way to his earlobe, nipped then bathed his ear with her soft breath. Her husky voice whispered she loved him. The velvet sound thrilled him as much as the softness of her skin. He couldn’t get enough of her. Without her—without her wasn’t an option.

  He moved but she stopped him and he settled back. She set him on fire with her tentative touch as it traced down his chest to his groin. He covered her hand with his as she stroked him and he gasped in sweet agony. He was at the breaking point.

  He wanted to sink deep inside her to chase…no, not to chase anything. He wanted to be deep inside her because without her the world, his world, would spin out of control.

  He traced his fingertip across her full lower lip. It was slick and wet as he expected she was. He lowered his mouth to hers but stopped a breath away. The tip of her tongue invited him in and he swept inside. He raised his mouth from her lips and searched her eyes. His tongue made a path from her mouth to her throat then flicked between her breasts. Tenderly he kissed each one. He glanced at her eyes and saw her passion heighten. He pampered her breasts with kisses and tiny nips. His lips teased each nipple and he hardened with each gasp she took.