Druid Knights 02: Knight of Rapture

by Ruth A. Casie

  Rebeka was discouraged when she saw the manor’s left flank in disarray. Would they lose the day so soon? She needed to get to Arik. She refocused her attention and pushed on to the top.

  “You know there is no hope for you or your men. I’ve already seen to your witch,” Bran said.

  Arik and Bran stood watching the battlefield below. He gripped his sword tighter at Bran’s reference to Rebeka but said nothing.

  “I don’t have to fight you, you know. I could let you live knowing I’ve taken everything from you. You’ll die a little more each day,” Bran preened.

  Arik watched the field and knew the tactic. Logan was drawing the men to his left flank. Arik scanned the far ridge. Had Stuart arrived with reinforcements? He stayed calm and watched.

  “You seem to be having some difficulty with your left flank. Pity. Well, it will make this a shorter day. For all of us,” Bran said.

  Arik waited for the battle to begin.

  A. Little. Further.

  As he assumed, an arrow was let loose, trailing a purple cloth. The left flank broke.

  The riders swerved and aimed for the weakened area. Horsemen swept up and clashed with foot soldiers who fought hard before the line broke. Men and horses thundered past them, over the top and into the dry stream bed.

  Bran shook his head. “The outcome is apparent, is it not?”

  Arik remained quiet and watched Logan and Marcus’s men reform their lines on the west and north sides. As Bran’s men raced up the other side of the bank one hundred and fifty men appeared on the east and south sides of the ridge.

  All was quiet.

  “For honor!” came the call from the east side. “For honor!” came the call from the west side. Bran’s men raced up the slope. The battle had begun.

  “It seems you are a little premature, Bran. But then you always seem to be a step behind,” Arik taunted. He watched the different moods cross Bran’s face. And waited.

  A large explosion behind Bran’s advancing forces made both men flinch.

  Bran turned his back to Arik and drew his sword.

  A gentleman’s fight? Arik didn’t think so but went through the motions. He, too, turned and prepared but was distracted by a movement in the brush. Was there someone in the nearby woods sneaking up behind him?

  Bran turned and brought his sword down in an overhead blow. Arik barely blocked the attack.

  Bran took advantage and moved in while Arik was still off balance and made a sweeping move at Arik’s midsection. Arik backed out of the way but slipped and fell.

  A smile crossed Bran’s face as he kept up his advance. Bran’s thrust gave Arik a glancing blow to the thigh then he came in to do more damage. Arik tumbled free and got to his feet. Clashes of metal rang through the clearing as the two men set a rhythm of strike, block and prepare.

  Waiting for his moment, Arik took advantage of Bran’s labored response. The tip of his sword slashed Bran’s cheek.

  Bran touched the wound with his fingertips and stared at the blood. Curses fell from his mouth while his expression clouded in anger. He was like a madman and marched forward, throwing strike after strike. Arik blocked each attempt. On a downward cross-body block, Arik let the momentum of his sword carry him around full circle and came face-to-face with Bran, their blades locked at the hilt.

  “Fight all you want but we both know you are destined not to leave this field,” Bran said through clenched teeth. He pushed Arik off with more force than Arik anticipated.

  Arik stumbled and fell. Bran lunged at him but missed his mark. Arik sprang to his feet, hitting Bran hard in his face with his fist.

  Bran stumbled back but regained his balance. The two brothers fought on.

  Arik moved in for an overhead strike but Bran punched him hard in the stomach, forcing Arik to fall forward onto his knees. Bran brought his sword down in an overhead strike. In desperation, Arik grabbed Bran’s hands to block the blow. Bran’s mouth spread into a sour smile before he kicked him in the chest. Arik fell backward, his sword falling out of his hand.

  Bran kicked the blade away.

  “On the ground before me—that’s where you belong,” Bran said, his voice vengeful. He attacked with an overhead killing strike but Arik rolled to the right out of the way. Bran came at him again. This time Arik reversed and rolled to the left, the momentum of his movement bringing him to his feet.

  Bran held his sword with both hands, raised it high and aimed at Arik. Arik grabbed Bran’s hands. He struggled to keep the sword up but Bran had the advantage. With great determination, Bran pushed the sword down and Arik to his knees. Bran kicked Arik and sent him flying. He landed on his back, spread eagle.

  Rebeka scampered over the edge and into the woods, keeping out of sight. Farther down the rise, Bran and Arik watched the battlefield. She skirted the woods and worked her way to the clearing, closer to Arik.

  “For honor!” erupted from below.

  Moments later the sound of the explosion filled the air—the men had destroyed Bran’s supply wagons. Staying well hidden, she maneuvered to get closer to Arik. A misstep and he turned. She dropped where she was. She wanted to scream at him for leaving her, hit him for not telling her what he was doing. But those ideas faded when Bran attacked him. There was nothing she could do, not yet. She’d wait and find the right moment.

  Careful to be as quiet as possible, she pulled the Sword of Knowledge from her staff. She had no idea how she would get it to him but she would.

  She had to.

  She watched Arik’s movements flow from one to another. She steeled herself to stay quiet and keep still. Impulse after impulse fired, driving her to take action. But she stayed where she was.

  Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw Arik on the ground and watched Bran kick Arik’s sword away. The men fought on. Bran rained down one brutal blow after another. She held herself back but would be ready when her opportunity came.

  “This is almost too easy,” Bran said, his sword high in the air and Arik on his knees in front of him.

  Rebeka smashed him hard in his temple with the end of her staff. Not waiting for him to recover, she struck him hard behind his knees and brought him down then pivoted away out of his reach.

  Arik rolled to the right, grabbed his sword and got to his feet. He stood next to Rebeka.

  She handed him a long, thin blade.

  If Arik was surprised to see her or the Sword of Knowledge, he didn’t let on.

  She watched Bran’s disbelief as Arik set Knowledge within Rapture. With the final click the etched runes on the blade came alive with a golden glow.

  “That’s only a story. It won’t save you. I’ve planned and waited too long. I will succeed,” Bran said. Arik cocked his head to the side.

  She detected it also—two voices, Bran’s and another.

  It gave her an idea. She hoped Arik would understand what she was doing.

  Bran lunged at Rebeka but she blocked his attack. Her mouth moved and she mumbled the healing chant. She closed her eyes and centered. For her the clash of steel, the noise of the battle, all faded.

  Arik and Bran fought on but all she heard was the chant, over and over again.

  Arik stepped in and pressed forward with a flurry of blows. Sparks flew with each strike as he hammered at Bran. Arik watched Bran’s face and saw a glimmer of someone else and only traces of his brother. With each strike Arik bellowed the cleansing chant.

  The glimmer on Bran’s face distorted in all directions but he fought on. Arik and Rebeka kept repeating the chant. Arik punctuated the cadence with sword strokes as he battered away at Bran, tiring him out.

  Their swords locked, Bran pulled his free arm back. Arik saw the grimace on his brother’s face.

  Bran threw his punch. Arik caught his fist in his hand, twisted Bran’s arm behind him and brought him to his knees.

  “Fight it, Bran. Don’t give in. Let me help you. Let us help you.”

  The voice that roared wasn’t Bran’s. R
ebeka put her hand on top of Arik’s, the one that held Bran. Bran writhed from their touch as if it were a hot brand.

  She repeated the healing chant over and over. It wouldn’t cure him but maybe, just maybe, it would give him a chance to fight the demon himself.

  “If you let me up I’ll kill you and your precious wife.” But it wasn’t Bran’s voice they heard.

  “How can I kill my brother?” Arik whispered in his ear. He released Bran, throwing him forward.

  Bran got to his feet, cocked his arm and stopped. He stood staring at Arik and began to shake.

  “Fight it,” Arik demanded.

  Bran, worn out and empty, let his raised arm fall to his side. “Kill me.” His voice was clear but tired. “Put an end to this. I have nothing to live for. Cay’s gone. I know nothing can bring her back.” He straightened, eye to eye with Arik. “I’ve done terrible things.”

  Bran was a beaten man. But Arik wasn’t willing to lose him. “Bran, do you trust me?” His voice was strong. His brother nodded. “I can save you, but at a cost.”

  “Why save me? After all I’ve done. Do you have any idea what it’s like to be unable to control things, horrible things? No, don’t save me. Punish me.”

  “You still don’t know? The blame is not all yours. I saw your pain, lived it with you when Cay was ill. I let you convince me.” Arik hesitated. “I should never have taught you Dark Magick. I have my portion of blame and have paid a heavy price.” He glanced at Rebeka.

  “Thank you for that. You are the knight who is loyal and trustworthy. I’m not made as you are.” He paused. “Is there hope for me?”

  Arik reached out his mind to Bran’s. His mind was clear but heavy with guilt. Yes, he could save him but would he agree to the cost? He withdrew from Bran’s mind.

  Bran took a deep breath. “What do I need to do?”

  “It’s not that easy. Everything has two sides—even magick—good and dark. We must keep it balanced, especially the magick. Magick is part of our world here. If you stay here, I can’t guarantee it will not take you again. You’re a willing host.”

  “You mean I’m weak.” Bran’s chin jutted up.

  “No, you were desperate. I know how that feels. I was desperate for Rebeka.”

  “How will you save me?”

  Arik took a deep breath. “You have to be someplace where there isn’t any magick. You can’t stay here.” Bran’s head didn’t move. His eyes told Arik another story. He knew this was the only way to keep Bran safe. “You’ll have to make a new life for yourself.”

  “This is worse than death.” Bran’s choked sob tore at him but he had no choice. Bran hadn’t left him any.

  “I’ll send you where you’ll succeed but it’s a place where they don’t have magick, any magick.”

  “Send me? Not Orkney?” Bran grasped at Arik, fear written on the man’s face.

  Arik ached at the sound of desperation in his brother’s voice. “No, not Orkney.” He stood tall, not wavering or giving comfort to Bran. It wouldn’t help him. Bran had to do this alone. “As Grand Master I can give you an opportunity to make things right.”

  Bran stood facing Arik. “You were always the knight.”

  “And you’ll forever be my brother. Remember that always. You. Are. My. Brother.”

  “I’ll never forget.” A resigned Bran stood before him, the man he had been all those years ago.

  Before he lost his courage, Arik started the ritual. He tapped the glowing Sword of Rapture once on each of Bran’s shoulders. Rebeka stood close and chanted along with him.

  The druid runes on Bran’s body glowed. But he paled in agony as they dimmed and died. Rebeka sang the healing chant louder and faster.

  Bran’s body slumped to the ground. Dark patches appeared where the runes had been. They would heal but he’d always feel their loss.

  Rebeka helped Bran to his feet. “Rebeka, I’m…”

  “I know, Bran. I knew when you tried to save me at Skara Brae.”

  Bran nodded he was ready. Arik passed the Sword of Rapture over him. A shimmer of golden light cascaded down and surrounded Bran. When it faded into nothing Bran was gone.

  “As above, so below. As within, so without. Bring Bran from darkness into the light. Restore our brother, the manor knight. So mote it be.” How could others understand? He loved his brother. He knew him better than anyone. The horrible things he’d done were unforgivable but there had to be a place for him.

  “Will the Dark Magick go with him?” Rebeka asked.

  “No, the physical cleansing is complete. Now he must heal his soul.” He knew Bran had the strength. But he would have to be patient.

  “All he ever wanted was to belong to Fayne Manor.” Rebeka stood next to Arik.

  “Perhaps one day it will be his.” He took her into his arms. She was here and he was thankful. He fought Bran not caring if he died. Death was better if he had to live without her. He crushed her to him.

  “I believed I had lost you,” she whispered.

  “The hardest thing I ever did was leave you. But I would have found you.”

  He peered past the edge of the cliff. “The battle’s over. We should see to the men.” He squeezed her close and they went to their men.

  “I told you there was no cause for worry,” Logan said to the others.

  “It’s good to see you, Lord Arik,” the major said.

  Arik’s jaw gaped open. “How? How did you get here?” Arik turned from the major to Rebeka. “Stuart didn’t arrive. You did. With the major and his men.” He should have known she wouldn’t be stopped.

  She couldn’t be stopped.

  “I was being a dutiful wife and following your wise instructions. I examined the problem from all angles and found my answer in the writings on the tower walls. Luckily, the major and the others take their pledge seriously, as I take my vows. They knew you needed them and they came.”

  “I saw the glimmer. Bran is gone?” Logan asked.

  “Yes. With Rebeka’s help we did what we could. The rest is up to him.” They stood by the village gate. “I was surprised when you gave me this plan, to save Bran.”

  “Doward explained how the Dark Magick used him as a tool as I would use my sword. If there was a chance of getting him back then there was no question. I love him, too.”

  Arik, with Logan, Marcus, the major and Rebeka, walked toward the manor. “But he couldn’t stay with us. He had a price to pay.” For Bran, the solution was harsh. Fayne Manor was everything to him. His journey wouldn’t be easy but he was sure he had the strength.

  “All the men are waiting for you.” Logan motioned ahead.

  “Here they come.” A shout went up as they passed through the manor gate.

  Marcus’s and the major’s men waited. “You’ve met one another. Good. I find it difficult to determine whether you fight under Marcus or the major,” Arik said.

  “That’s because we all fight for Lord Arik.” The soldier’s remark was followed by shouts and hollers.

  Arik searched their faces and swelled with pride. He waited for the men to quiet. “You have all done yourselves proud. Logan, you commanded the men and held off all major attacks. Your strategy won the day. Marcus, you and your men held your ground against overwhelming odds. Your tenacity won the day. Major, you and your men came to us in our hour of need, requiring a leap of faith. Your honor won the day. I am proud to count each of you as my man and I thank you.”

  “Lord Arik and Lady Rebeka.” Everyone cheered.

  “It seems this morning’s event got in the way of our celebration of Beltane. The women have been cooking for days and there’s plenty of ale. Enjoy your celebration—you all worked hard for it,” Arik said. He watched the two armies blend, each helping the other with bruises and wounds. It was difficult to tell them apart. He laughed when he heard Bill trying to explain how a shower worked.

  Arik searched the crowd. “Logan, a word.” He indicated a secluded spot.

  Logan excused him
self from the major’s men and joined his brother. “Yes?”

  “You let her near the battlefield.”

  “Arik, she crossed time not certain if she would live, created an enchantment to bring one hundred and fifty men with her. She unraveled the puzzle of the prophecy and found the Sword of Knowledge. I didn’t have a chance of stopping her from getting to you.” Logan’s arm was around his brother’s shoulder. “When are you going to understand she is as stubborn as you? Frankly, I would thank all the gods for her. I know I do.” Logan smiled and returned to the celebration.

  “What was that all about?” Rebeka carried a wrapped package. “No, don’t tell me. You were questioning him as to why I was near the battlefield. He told me you would. Before you say anything, don’t you ever make a decision like that and not involve me. Do you hear?” She jabbed his chest with her forefinger.

  He stared at her, speechless. He covered her hand with his and at last found his voice. “He was telling me what a fortunate man I am to have such an extraordinary and brave wife and I agreed with him.”

  “Oh.” Now she was speechless.

  “What do you have there?”

  “Mary couldn’t wait to give it to me. She said it’s a gift from the women. They had planned to give it to me at the Spring Festival.” She removed the string, pulled back the cloth and unwrapped a tapestry. It was Fayne Manor. Two people stood on the porch and the tower room glowed with a yellow light.

  “Where will you put it?”

  There was only one place it could go. “Over the hearth in the Great Hall.”

  “Arik, Major, what are you doing in the library? It’s time to bring the men to Oak Meadow,” Rebeka said.

  “One minute, Rebeka,” Arik said.

  He unrolled a parchment, its prominent blue seal evident. He read down the scroll and tapped the signatures: Alfred the Great and Mannis.

  “Major, this is the proclamation granting the Fayne Manor land to our family,” Arik said.

  He unrolled a second document with illuminated script and a large red seal.