She put the box aside and let out a deep breath that had a hard time getting around the knot in her throat.
The last item startled her. It was a manila envelope addressed to her in her father’s hand. Her finger ran across his bold, masculine writing. The familiar script comforted her. A piece of him was with her.
She opened the package and took out two journals. Nothing else.
Her breath caught when she opened the first worn brown journal. It was filled with Arik’s handwriting. The last entry was March 1606.
She was propped up in bed and began to read page after page of his attempts to find her.
Working with Logan, they had tried to open the portal at the standing stones. He even tried to contact the Ancients in the Otherworld.
Magick herbs were mixed, chants were recited and enchantments investigated—nothing worked. He developed an enchantment but he had ruled that out. It would provide only a temporary solution. Formula after formula he wrote and finessed but they all led to failure.
Her breath caught at the mention of Dark Magick. Her heart ached for him as she sensed the pain and longing in his writing. It soared when she read his excitement at finding that someone else, George, she supposed, was helping.
Hours later she closed the book, her heart warm. His last entry was made the day he arrived. He had never stopped. He had tried to move heaven and earth and he had.
She opened the second journal. This one was filled with runes. She flipped through the pages and found a note pressed between two sheets. It was written by her father.
“Rebeka, keep this book well hidden. It is for your eyes only. I remain, your father.”
She read the odd wording that was so unlike him. She couldn’t reconcile the urgent tone of his message. The runes that filled the pages of the book were unrecognizable to her, except for the one sigil that combined her name and Arik’s. It seemed to be sprinkled throughout the text.
She closed the book and rested her hand on its leather cover. Her father was telling her something, but what?
She decided to attack the problem the best way she knew how, like it was any other research project. The idea made her light-headed. Had her father known all along? Was he preparing her for today? She was certain of it. While she considered what to do next, her finger followed the outline of the rune embossed on the book’s cover. Over and over she traced the figure. The pattern was familiar.
Her eyes opened wide when she realized what it was—the tower.
She pulled out her cell phone and punched speed dial. “George, I need you and Cora in the tower room.”
She clicked off the phone. Taking her staff and the two journals, she climbed the stairs to the tower. She stood by the window while she waited for George and Cora.
It was a beautiful view. She wondered if she would ever see it again standing next to him. She took in a deep breath and watched the sun slip below the horizon.
Three days. She had three days to figure out a lifetime of secrets.
“Rebeka, we came as fast as we could,” Cora said as she and George rushed into the room.
“My father left information hidden in the runes. I need to unlock them. He pointed me here.” She held up his journal and placed it on the table. “You helped Arik with the runes using Arik’s sword and my staff. Now, I need your help with the ritual.”
“We’ll have to make a new pentagram. That one is corrupt with the mirror’s shards.” They cleared as much off the floor as they could. The new design would cover as much of the room as possible. “Here’s chalk and candles,” Cora said. George drew the form with Cora’s help.
Ready to begin, Rebeka stood in the center of the pentagram with her staff in hand and the Sword of Rapture at her feet.
“Hail, Guardians of the East. I summon the power of air,” Rebeka said.
“By the air that is in her breath, be with us now,” George and Cora responded. Cora lit a candle on the eastern point of the pentagram.
“Hail, Guardians of the South. I summon the power of fire,” Rebeka said.
“By the fire in her spirit, be with us now,” George and Cora responded. George lit the candle on the southern point of the pentagram.
“Hail, Guardians of the West. I summon the power of water,” Rebeka said.
“By the waters of her womb, be with us now.” Cora lit the western point on the design.
“Hail, Guardians of the North. I summon the power of the earth,” Rebeka said.
“By the earth that is her body, be with us now.” George lit the final point.
“As above, so below. As within, so without. Four lights in this place be, to open the meaning of the runes to me. So mote it be.” They waited and watched the tower walls long into the night. But they remained dark and cold. They chanted until the first rays of day lightened the sky.
“Why won’t they answer?” she said under her breath. “Two days, that’s all we have left,” she murmured.
“Give me the knowledge,” she demanded and tapped her staff on the tower floor. “Give me the strength.” She tapped the floor again. “Give me the knowledge.” Her voice stronger, her demand more urgent. Another tap.
“Give me the strength.” She repeated the phrases over and over, punctuating each with a loud tap of her staff. “Give me knowledge… Give me strength.”
She wouldn’t take no for an answer. She demanded the Great Mother to respond. And she wouldn’t give up. Arik never had. She kept making her demand well into the late afternoon.
A spark to the right of her line of vision caught her attention. With renewed strength she continued. The sparks grew brighter. More and more runes pulsated in time with her tapping.
She didn’t see a pattern. She quickened the cadence and the flashes on the wall kept pace. Quicker and quicker she made her plea.
“Give me the knowledge, give me the strength, give me the knowledge, give me the strength.” She was silent but the beat of her staff echoed through the room.
Faster and faster she pounded her staff on the floor. Faster and faster the flashes responded until the sound of her staff and the pulses of light were steady.
In the midst of the frenzy she raised her hands high. “Show me the way.” She shouted her demand and stabbed her staff into the center of the pentagram.
Light and sound stopped.
One by one select phrases on the wall sent streams of light to her staff and the Sword of Rapture, illuminating select runes.
One by one the pulsing runes on the wall faded until they were all extinguished.
Rebeka lowered her arms. Her staff and the sword were surrounded by an aura.
She approached the walls. Several runes were burnished into them. Their meaning was clear. “Thank you, Great Mother, for the knowledge…and the strength to use it.”
It was Arik’s writing, for certain, but with another interpretation. And here he believed the writing was to find her. He should’ve examined it from all angles. She smiled at the idea. “Thank you, my love,” she murmured.
“It’s the prophecy,” Cora said, staring at a section of the wall.
“Knowledge destroyed is Knowledge that never existed. But when the purity of Knowledge is combined with the heart of Strength none can tear it apart.”
“It must be the key to unlock your father’s writing,” George said. “We can—”
She placed her hand on his arm. “I’ll see you when I’m finished.”
George and Cora nodded and left.
She picked up her father’s journal and pen and paper. She was at Arik’s desk and began the difficult task of transcribing the pages.
There was a hush over the manor as the day lengthened into evening. Several times she gathered a book or two from the library and returned to the tower.
She worked through the night. The following afternoon she was done with the first draft. She reread the transcription. “I wasn’t expecting this,” she said to the empty room. Fine-tuning the draft wouldn’t change its meaning.
“Hello, George…Yes, I’m done…Meet me in the library.” She reviewed the translation one more time then went to speak to George and Cora.
“You’ve been up there for hours.” George lowered the newspaper he’d been reading.
She placed the book, her staff and the sword on the table and handed George the translation. She took a seat next to Cora at the library table.
Tired, she put her elbows on the table and pressed her fingers to her temples and waited to hear George’s remarks.
“This talks of a battle at the manor and that the family line ends.” George put the paper on the table and moved it away. She didn’t blame him. She’d distance herself from it, too, if she could.
“Yes. When Angus gave his lecture at Oak Meadow he told us the same thing, except he used the word annihilation. But I don’t think Angus saw this.” She pointed to a portion of the text. “Did you read the part that says if the manor falls I will never have existed?”
She understood why Arik returned. That didn’t make her any less angry with him.
“No,” Cora said as she read the document for the first time and fidgeted with the paper. “Where does it say that?”
“Only knowledge is burnished into the tower wall. It’s a leap of faith, but if the manor falls—”
“Knowledge will be lost.” Cora’s voice was low. She picked up the translation and read it again. “You don’t seem to be upset.” No, she wasn’t. Her reasoning was simple. Arik would succeed and that meant she’d be with him. “We’ve known the prophecy but not how to fulfill it.”
“The heart of knowledge combined with the purity of strength cannot be torn apart,” George added.
Rebeka took her staff and unwound the leather strap around the top. “One of the burnished runes goes under the strapping.” She pointed to the rune. “I wasn’t certain what it was so I removed the leather. That’s when I detected the circular marking.” She twisted the top of her staff. “It took a few tries but it gave way.” She pulled off the top of her staff and drew out a long metal sword.
“The Sword of Knowledge,” George murmured, sitting straight in his chair. “No, the heart of knowledge. I believed the blade was a story and didn’t exist.” Rebeka put the thin blade back in the staff. She wouldn’t risk setting it in place until it was necessary.
Cora glanced at her with sympathy. “It says the sword will survive—”
“All along we’ve known that I am knowledge and Arik is strength. Together we will both survive.” She left no room for discussion.
“But you can’t travel back,” Cora said.
“What have I got to lose? If I stay here and Fayne Manor falls I’m lost forever. But if I succeed…” She closed her eyes to calm down. “I won’t fail. I’m his only hope. I won’t sit by and do nothing.”
“We’ll figure this out,” George said. She detected the confidence in George’s voice.
“It’s two days to Beltane. We have very little time. What do we know about the portal?” Cora asked.
“There was one at the stones but that’s closed, and the other was the scrying mirror…it’s shattered. I don’t know of any others,” George said.
“Arik told us passage was a round trip except for Rebeka’s. This last one was a special one-way ticket?” Cora asked. “Arik used the scrying mirror for his travel. Rebeka used the stones.”
There must be something in Arik’s journal that he’d overlooked. She reached for his book, knocking her father’s journal to the floor. When she picked it up her father’s note fluttered out.
“Rebeka, keep this well hidden. It is for your eyes only. I remain, your father.” She put the note aside but the comma caught her attention. “I remain.”
A large smile spread across her face. “He didn’t go back. He didn’t use his return passage.” She smiled and was more alive than she had been in days. She was close, so close. She wouldn’t give up now.
“Who?” George asked.
“My father. He knew. Why else would he leave me this message? I’m more convinced than ever that there’s a way back. There must be another portal.” She racked her brain. She pulled Arik’s book over and searched for any information about a location.
“If Max knew he must have given you some information. He wouldn’t leave it to chance. He must have told you, indicated it to you in some way,” George said.
“George, I didn’t even know he was a druid Grand Master,” she said.
“Precisely. So he couldn’t come out and tell you. He had to do it subtly.” George paced the room, running his hand through his hair. “I’ll go through the druid documents and see what I can find.”
“I’ll go through his things again. Maybe I’ve missed something.”
She took her father’s journal, put on her MP3 player and chose one of the chants he recorded for her. More than anything, she wanted to hear his voice.
Soon she was yawning. She was no closer to solving her problem but she was a lot closer to her father. The anger, sorrow and pain of losing him had faded. Now she had memories of their time together. She laid the book on her chest, listened to the droning chant and nodded off.
In her dream she saw herself standing by the tower window watching a battle unfold on the practice fields. The Fayne Manor soldiers fought on but were outnumbered. For every foot of ground they gained, they lost two. But no one gave up. In the thick of it, men stood bloody but determined. Her eyes snapped to the distant cliff where the flash of blades caught her attention. Bran and Arik were having their private war.
Together, she must be with him. The dream shimmered at the sound of her father’s chant. She turned from the window and found herself standing at the edge of Oak Meadow, her staff in hand. A warm breeze tousled her long hair. Her nose sniffed the sweet aroma of wildflowers. The grass and splash of colorful flowers covered the field and gathered around the stone signpost. The carving on the post was crisp and clear, as if it had been recently cut. Under the spreading oak branches, a lone faceless figure emerged. His black coat flared around him. The fallen leaves in front of him scattered, clearing a path as he walked toward her.
Dad.
She’d had this dream before and knew the routine. He’d stop at the signpost, she’d turn away and when she glanced back the air would be swirling faster and faster. He’d call out…
She jolted upright, wide awake. Breathing heavily, she forced herself to remember every aspect of the dream and put it on paper. With the paper in hand she ran down the stairs.
“George, Cora.” She rushed into the library. Empty. Startled, she stood in the room to gather her wits. She hurried to the garage and pulled out the motorcar. The sun was setting and she needed to get there quickly. Minutes later she was at Oak Meadow. She examined the stone signpost. It appeared like any other, etched with directions. Why was the signpost in the middle of the estate grounds? Directions weren’t needed here. She pulled the grass and flowers away from the base. Short of pulling it out of the ground, she needed to make certain. She put her palm flat on the stone surface. A wave of panic rolled through her.
She didn’t feel anything.
The energy wasn’t through the entire stone but rather in bands. She placed her palm at the base of the stone and pulled it away. It tingled. The stone wasn’t placed there as a marker. It was an ancient standing stone.
She sat on the ground with her back against the stone and watched the sunset color the sky. One day. Now all she needed to do was open the portal. George had done it with Arik. She hoped he could do it again.
“Can you think of anything else before we leave?” Rebeka wanted to put the druid documents back into the sanctuary.
“No. We have your staff and Arik’s sword and you’ve replaced the documents. Have you reconsidered an enchantment? It may be safer.” George closed the gate to the armory.
“You know that’s only temporary. I’ll be ready to go tomorrow. It’ll be cutting it close but I have no other choice. Besides, magick is strongest at Beltane.
” She and George entered the large cavern. Apprehension tried to wiggle its way into her mind but she squashed it. Failure was not an option.
“Who’s here? Oh, Dr. Tyler, Mr. Hughes. I was concerned when I saw the way open.” The major entered with the rest of the men behind him.
“You know about the sanctuary?” She glanced at each man, startled to see them.
“Lord Arik brought us here often. He told us about his life with his men in his time.” The men filtered around the room, relaxed and comfortable.
“You know he’s…” Truth and honesty was what Arik demanded from his soldiers. A soft chuckle caught in her throat. He wouldn’t have it any other way.
“From the past.” Jaxon’s matter-of-fact attitude made her search the faces of the others.
Loyalty and courage were the words that came to mind, and dedication. That Arik was a leader didn’t surprise her. That these men were a team—Arik’s team—made her proud.
“Yes. He knew our stories fighting for England and to raise our families. Every detail of them and he didn’t judge us. He told us his, about his battles for the king and his struggles to keep his family safe. Some of it was hard to believe at first but he brought us here and taught us about his time and his ways. There isn’t a man here who wouldn’t stand with him,” the major said.
A rumble of agreement rolled through the room.
“He told us he needed to take care of his family. We volunteered to go with him but he needed us here to protect you.” The major appeared disappointed. A quick glance and she knew the rest of the men felt the same.
“Then you know I, too, am from his time.” The tone in the room was one of belief and support.
“Yes. He told us your story, too,” Bill said.
“Lord Arik returned to protect the manor. It will be under siege shortly. He’s gone back to be with his brother, Logan, and their soldiers.” She scanned the men. Concern was on each man’s face. Encouraged, she continued on. “If the manor falls my life will be forfeited. He’s outnumbered.”
A thundering protest punctuated by curses echoed in the cavern. “We can’t stay here and let that happen.” She glanced at Jaxon.
Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture Page 31
