Guardian of the Stone

by Amity Grays

  “Beautiful and brilliant,” Dane acknowledged, pulling Laur to a stop before moving to the ground.

  Roncin laughed. “Edeline or the village?”

  Dane’s eyes met hers as he reached up his arms to help her down. “Both,” he said simply, his eyes never leaving hers.

  She slid into his arms, where he held her longer than really necessary, not that she minded. The warmth of his hands was something she now looked quite forward to.

  “Are you sure no one remains?” he asked Lucas when the knight motioned them to follow.

  “I assure you it is deserted.” Lucas turned to walk down a small opening within the stone wall behind him.

  While Hemart and Roncin stayed behind to keep guard, Dane and Edeline followed Lucas.

  “The land never did take well to harvesting,” Lucas said, “though the villagers managed somehow for near a hundred years. But the weather has been vicious over the last few. The ground here can no longer reap. What little hope they had of perseverance completely disappeared. The village has been vacant now for nearly two years.”

  “Where did they all go?” asked Edeline, now following Lucas down the thin walkway.

  “Most scattered to the larger villages; others found work as laborers closer to Paris.” He stopped outside a simple stone dwelling and tried the door. It easily opened to a small, now-vacant dwelling. He looked inside before smiling back at Edeline. “Brun and Agnes le Picart moved to Paris. I believe he serves as a butcher, as was his calling here.”

  “Brun and Agnes le Picart?” Edeline queried, stepping into the quaint dwelling.

  “Yes, Edeline. Their daughter was Jaquette le Picart, your mother.”

  Her fingers flew to her parted lips.

  A flutter of excitement soared from her heart on a wave of emotion, taking her breath and sending her stumbling backward. If it hadn’t been for Dane’s strong arms, she surely would have met the ground.

  My mother? Could it be true?

  “You knew my mother?” she asked, her voice slightly shaking.

  Lucas nodded, a soft smile on his lips. “Only for a short time, but I knew her parents well. They frequented the parish. They sought solace there after your mother’s death.”

  Slowly Edeline’s balance returned. She patted Dane’s steadying hands, then moved away from his hold.

  So this was her past. How amazing it was.

  Anticipation bubbled in her belly.

  Stepping further into the room, a warm and comforting sense of belonging overtook her. She slowly walked through the dwelling. “My mother—she, too, lived here?”

  “Until the day she married your father.”

  The dwelling was near bare but a few remnants from its occupants remained. Edeline ran her hands lovingly across a well-worn table, picking up and squeezing an old forgotten cloth which lay haphazardly across the table’s end. “My grandmother held this, perhaps my mother.” She lifted it to her cheek and the first tear fell.

  Dane moved to comfort her, but she lifted her hand keeping him back.

  “I’m all right,” she said, looking away, already searching for more treasures. She was overwhelmed. She’d long ago given up hope of knowing anything of her mother. This was a treasure to which none could compare. She would breathe it in and hold precious every second.

  Slowly she moved to the back of the dwelling where two small rooms were sectioned off. Stripped completely bare of everything but an old chair which had seen better days, the first room was blessed with the light from the afternoon sun. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine it furnished and filled with warm personal touches. She walked toward the lone chair, bent down on her knees, and leaned her head against the hard wood.

  Dane stood at the entrance. “Edeline?”

  “I’m not sad,” she said as tears ran down her face.

  He smiled. “I know.”

  “I’m really,” she hesitated and sat up, wiping her tear-covered face with her sleeve, “happy.”

  “I know.” He walked across the room to the chair where he bent to his knees.

  “Are your parents still living?” she asked.

  He nodded. “They are.”

  “Do you have brothers and sisters?”

  “A younger brother.” He reached out and pushed back a stray curl from her tear-dampened face.

  “I always wanted a brother or sister,” she said reflectively. Her eyes closed. “But I would have given anything to know my mother.”

  “I’m sorry, Edeline.”

  “This is,” she said, opening her eyes again and taking a long look around the room, “the greatest gift I have ever received. My grandparents’ home. I never imagined…” A sob caught in her throat.

  He offered her his embrace.

  She moved into his outstretched arms and allowed him to comfort her. He kissed her forehead, his hands comforting and cradling her as the tears fell.

  “I can’t meet them, can I?” Her voice was full of hope as she looked up into his handsome face. “My grandparents. Lucas mentioned them. They’re still alive here in this time.”

  His eyes held regret as he slowly shook his head. “The risks are too great. We need to get home.”

  She leaned into his chest and held on tight. “I know,” she whispered. And she did. If anything went wrong, they both had everything to lose. The world she and Federic entered into twenty-two-years ago could very well be gone and all of history changed. But what frightened her most was what, and more importantly to her heart, who might never be. She looked up into Dane’s eyes. She would do nothing to risk him. “We should go.”

  His dark eyes met hers in silent understanding.

  There was something between them. Strong and persistent, it was born in the trenches of the doubt, raised in the midst of uncertainty, and now thrived in this world of acceptance. There was something…

  His gaze dropped to her lips—lips which then trembled. The slightest smile wavered across his face.

  She didn’t move, didn’t smile, only breathed.

  Warm hands cupped her face as slowly he lowered his lips to hers.

  He kissed her. With lips both warm and pleasing, he set her heart racing.

  There was passion and plenty, but there was also something more, something stronger than passion and more nourishing to the soul. There was a bond now between them which could not be broken. In a very real way, in this extraordinary world, they were one.

  “Edeline!” Lucas called from the other room, the excitement in his voice unmistakable.

  Slowly Dane released her, kissing her briefly once more as they turned to leave.

  Hand in hand they walked around the small partition.

  Lucas was on his knees holding a small metallic brooch adorned with colorful pastes and embossed with a heart crossed with a sword. Looking up, he smiled and held it out for her to take. “It was sitting on the ledge between the rooms. I must have knocked it loose when I brushed the corner. I remember it. Your father had it made for your mother.”

  Her heart fluttered and then soared as though it had wings. She smiled, wanting to believe it but fearing it too good to be true. “My mother’s?”

  “Your mother’s,” Lucas assured, lifting it up higher in offering.

  She stepped across the room and bent to his side. Her own hands shaking, she accepted the brooch. It didn’t actually glisten, but in her eyes it shined. It was the only thing she’d ever seen of her mother’s, not to mention owned.

  “Thank you. Oh, Lucas, thank you so much. My mother’s.” She studied the brooch several moments longer before wrapping her arms around him. “Thank you for everything, Lucas, but especially for bringing me here. It means more to me than you’ll ever know.”

  He held her close and kissed her cheek. “You are welcome, my precious Edeline.”

  “We should go,” Dane reminded, holding out his hand.

  Pinning the brooch to her dress, Edeline smiled and moved back to her feet. “I’m ready,” she said pla
cing her hand in Dane’s.

  “Well, it’s true,” Edeline said, laughing as she leaned with him to avoid a low hanging branch.

  The light scent of the fresh wildflowers she’d placed throughout her curls filled Dane’s airways. He purposefully leaned in closer, taking a deep breath and simply enjoying the feel of her in his arms.

  “She’s teasing you again, Hemart,” Roncin said. “You should really try and be less gullible. Why, she almost had you convinced men could fly. ‘All over the skies,’ she said, and you nearly believed her. You are a silly man to believe such tales.”

  Edeline gasped in indignation. “Don’t listen to them, Hemart. I’m telling you the truth. We do fly, all the time and all over the world.”

  “Yes, in metal holders built with wings and tails.” Roncin chuckled. “Next she’ll be telling us they can fly to the moon.” He shook his head. “Lucas is right, my friend, you are far too trusting.”

  Dane felt her prepare to respond and whispered in her ear. “I wouldn’t bother.”

  “Believe me or not, but I’m telling the truth. Men do fly. Perhaps not like the birds, but in airplanes, which are not so dissimilar.” She sighed and sat back up as they passed another obtrusive branch. “And is it really so hard to believe that we choose to indulge ourselves in luxuries? It’s certainly not a new concept.”

  Hemart scowled as he scratched the back of his head. “Adding length to one’s fingernails?” He stretched his arms out in front of him, studying his nails. “What would be the purpose?”

  “Image,” Edeline said. “And creativity. You should see how they can decorate nails in our time. It’s really quite remarkable. In fact, it’s art.”

  “Art?” All three knights turned on their mounts and looked back her way.

  “Yes, art. They actually create artwork right on the nail—pictures, words, diamonds and other gems. You’d be amazed.”

  Hemart snorted. “It is hard to believe a man would allow his wife to so foolishly spend his earnings.”

  “Who said they were his earnings? Besides, even men have their nails done. Tell them, Dane,” she said, turning his way for needed support.

  “Edeline…” He moaned as he reluctantly looked up to see the others’ reactions.

  Hemart stared suspiciously back at the two of them and then pulled back on his reins. “Let me see your hands,” he insisted.

  “My hands are not manicured,” Dane said, internally noting he’d have to have a private word with the beautiful woman he held in his arms. “Nor are they painted. And they certainly do not have, and never will have, extensions. But she’s right. There are men in certain professions who choose to have it done, but not in mine.” He shook his head and added, “Certainly not in mine.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with keeping oneself groomed,” Edeline said to the three now-snickering knights. “It’s a concept alive even in these ancient days.”

  Glancing suspiciously toward Dane’s hands, Hemart’s gaze narrowed. “I’d like to see them.”

  Lucas and Roncin turned their heads back to the path, but it was obvious from their rolling shoulders, they found the whole conversation extremely amusing. And Dane had little doubt a good share of their amusement was directed at him.

  “Let me see them,” Hemart persisted as he held out his hand, determination sitting solidly across his face.

  “This is ridiculous,” Dane grumbled as he laid his hands out for inspection.

  “Humph,” Hemart grunted and showed his own much more weathered and battered hands. He studied his and then Dane’s. “They’re not as pretty as his teeth,” he announced. “And I suppose they’re not completely soft.”

  “Soft!” Moving his hands back to the reins, Dane looked toward his tormenter in disbelief. “There is nothing ‘soft’ about my hands. And just for the record, let me say, tights are for pansies in my day.”

  “Pansies?” Hemart tilted his head.

  “They’re much more common for the women…the manicures, I mean,” Edeline jumped in to the suddenly heated debate. “I polish mine myself.” She stretched out her hands. They still appeared neatly trimmed, but the polish had been completely removed. Letting out an irritated huff, she dropped her hands back into her lap. “Well, they were a lovely pinkish-pearl.”

  “What other odd practices have you?” Hemart asked. He was fascinated by their world, more so than the others.

  “We also tan, you know, color our skin. People actually pay to have themselves painted the color of, mm…say…Dane.”

  In unison, the other two knights turned once again to look at Dane, their mouths—along with Hemart’s—dropping in astonishment.

  “I do not color my skin,” Dane declared defensively, “nor do I tan, at least not intentionally.”

  “Oh no. No!” Edeline waived her hands out in front of her. “I didn’t mean Dane. His is natural. Right?” she asked uncertainly, looking his way and receiving an irritated scowl in return.

  “Right,” he assured between clenched teeth.

  Looking Dane over skeptically, the three knights exchanged unreadable glances before turning back around in their saddles. Hemart grunted again and moved forward once more to join the others.

  “I would really appreciate you not giving them any more fuel for the fire,” Dane whispered in her ear. “They already find me foolish enough.”

  Undaunted, Edeline grinned. “They like you.”

  “They enjoy taunting me.”

  “No,” she said, her adorable smile still firmly planted on her lips, “they like you. How could they not?” Covering his hands with hers, she leaned back against his chest and looked up.

  Leaning down once more, he stole another kiss.

  With a pleased sigh, she looked back to the trail. “I adore our new friends, but I must admit I’m looking forward to some time alone, just you and I.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, realizing with a shock how much he meant it. He couldn’t wait to get her all to himself, to kiss her lips without restraint and to feel her body pressed to his. She had, quite surprisingly, become a strong desire of his. Having her so near, but forced to maintain his passions, was a grueling test of self-control. He leaned down once more, and her hand reached up as though to guide his lips to hers.

  He heard the pull of the bow before the whistle of the arrow. “Archer,” he yelled, bending over Edeline and sliding them both to the ground. The arrow whizzed just overhead before barreling into a tree. Right behind it, three other arrows flew through the air toward various destinations—destinations where luckily the knights had left.

  Dane huddled with Edeline behind Laur, then moved her to a large old oak. Pulling her behind the thick cover, he shielded her body with his.

  Twigs snapped, branches popped, and another round of arrows were launched in their direction. The dull whine of their force breaking air hummed through the trees. If they were still shooting, they had targets, which told Dane the knights were already on the move. Though it was against his every instinct, he stayed perfectly still. To get an idea of what was happening, he’d have to leave her, and that he wouldn’t do.

  The nervous snorts and prancing of the horses was the only sound he heard for several long seconds.

  “To your right,” he heard Roncin warn another as the breaking of a twig was followed by the sound of a charge, the chings of metal and the grunts of battle. Inevitably, there was the fall, but Dane could not see to tell the victor.

  The sound of scurrying feet echoed from seemingly every direction. He could no longer tell who was where or who was who. If he were on his own, he’d take his chances and charge into the unknown. But he wasn’t alone, and that wasn’t an option.

  “There are at least seven,” Hemart said, suddenly appearing behind the tree next to theirs. “They are coming from the east and trying to flank us. We cannot stay here. We have to somehow draw them into the open. You need to take Edeline and try to find a better place to hide.”

  “Point me the r
ight direction,” Dane said.

  Hemart pointed directly behind him. “I’d go now,” he said, before ducking low and running back into the dense trees.

  “Good advice,” Dane said. Standing back up, he carefully looked out from behind the tree. The sun was moving from the south, casting shadows into the already unreadable battlefield. He’d rarely in his days felt himself at a disadvantage. He did now. Whoever these men were, they were well trained, and they most likely knew the grounds a great deal better than he. Not to mention, he was the one acting as protector—rarely, if ever, an advantage.

  “We need to move,” he said, taking Edeline’s hands and helping her to her feet.

  Her eyes wildly took in their surroundings. She was scared, and she had every reason to be.

  He cupped her face in his hands. “We have no choice. We have to move. Are you ready?” he asked and received a courageous nod.

  Holding tight to her hand, he forged their way through the trees, hoping for signs of their friends, watchful for signs of their enemy. They’d made it no more than a few yards into the denser woods when a branch swayed unnaturally at their side.

  Dane stopped.

  Fierce green eyes peeked through the leaves.

  Pushing Edeline behind him, Dane raised his sword and prepared for battle. The man’s eyes widened with shock, his lips parted, but no cry emerged as he fell forward across the branch to land on the ground at their feet. A quick glimpse caught a red cross disappearing back into the trees.

  “Dane?” Edeline’s blue eyes looked up to him for reassurance.

  “It’s going to be all right,” he said, his words coming out much more confident than he felt. He had to find a place to hide her. If the knights failed, he would be her only hope, and their odds improved considerably if he could move alone as he did his job.

  “Hold on to my tunic,” he instructed. Then raising his sword, he looked back over his shoulder. “Pull. I want to know you’re behind me.” Feeling the cloth tighten around his middle, he moved on.