Druid Knights 1.5: The Druid Knight Tales (3 page)

Max waited for quiet before he faced the east and raised his arms. “Hail, Guardians of the East. I summon the power of air.” His voice echoed through the grove.

“By the air in her breath, be with us now,” the congregation replied.

He turned to the south. “Hail, Guardians of the South. I summon the power of fire.”

“By the fire in her spirit, be with us now,” came the reply.

He faced the west. “Hail, Guardians of the West. I summon the power of water.”

“By the waters of her womb, be with us now.”

Turning north he said, “Hail, Guardians of the North. I summon the power of earth.”

“By the earth that is her body, be with us now.” Every eye turned to Max when he faced the ancient oak, mistletoe hanging in great bunches from its mighty branches.

“As above, so below.

As within, so without.

Four stars in this place be

To open the door to the Ancestors to me.”

The cold air chilled even more and the sky turned an array of colors. Every muscle in Ellyn’s body tensed. This was magick she was not supposed to see. She must be too close to the Grand Master. She struggled to move away but was fixed to the spot. Slowly the world began to spin. She took a few deep breaths to steady herself, planted her staff deep into the ground, and held on. She peered through a hazy filter and witnessed Doward’s nod. She studied his lips silently mouthing,
Safe journey.

The cold wind pricked her skin like hundreds of tiny needles. She closed her eyes and firmly held on to her staff.

Shiver after shiver made her shoulders quake. She had never been so cold. A strong hand covered hers. She strained to pull away but it held her fast. The muffled chant in a deep baritone voice washed over her. The cold shivers melted into a comforting warmth and the tempest calmed.

When she opened her eyes the swirling had stopped. The weather was agreeable but the Grand Master’s expression was deadly.

“What are you doing in the Otherworld? How did you get here?” He pulled his hand away from hers.

She removed her staff from the ground. “I have no idea. I stood by you during the ritual but many others did too.”

“The portal only obeys the command of the Ancestors. My powers are limited here. I have no way to send you back.” He ran his hand through his hair and paced in front of her.

Standing tall, she waited and spoke not a word. Curious, she looked around.

The Otherworld. This was a place of stories, not reality. The dark silhouettes of the trees and bushes were dramatic against the deep blue of the retreating night. The sweeping clouds brightened with vivid colors of magenta and red. The waking sounds of the forest were soft and clear. The oak they stood near took her breath away. The light caught the morning dew on its bare branches and made them twinkle like thousands of sparkling gems.

She didn’t look at the Grand Master. She was certain there would be murder in his eyes.

“I can’t leave you here.” He cleared his throat. “You’ll have to come with me,” he droned on.

“You can leave me here.” She spun around and followed the flight of two butterflies that caught her attention as they fluttered by.

“No, I can’t.” He ground the words out between clenched teeth. “Don’t let the tranquil beauty fool you,” he said with quiet emphasis, trying to contain his anxiety. “It’s difficult traveling in the Otherworld alone. This place is not like any other. The Otherworld has traps and villains. They are just well hidden.” A muscle flicked angrily at his jaw.

“Yes, Grand Master. I will keep your warning in mind.” She waited, her hands folded in front of her.

“We may be here for a while.” His eyes searched the horizon.

“A while?” Her brows furrowed. “You must be back by the full rise of the moon.”

He gave her a stare with hard gray eyes that were like silver lightning. “Time is different in the Otherworld. We must meet the Ancestors within three days. They will return us to the oak at moonrise. To everyone there we will return the evening we departed.”

Her eyes widened and her brows arched in surprise. “How curious.”

He nodded toward the forest. “We’re going there. Follow me closely. We’re searching for a rope bridge. It should be nearby.”

They crossed a small clearing. Max held up his hand and brought them to a stop. “Wait here.” He started off.

“Is anything wrong?” she asked.

“I’m not certain.” He hesitated and searched her face, debating whether to tell her he had no idea where they were. Usually he arrived standing at the rope bridge. Today was different.

“I want to see what is behind that thicket. Wait here.” He moved off the path and headed toward the undergrowth.

Murmured voices rode on the breeze. She couldn’t make out what they said but as the breeze buffeted around her, they became more insistent. Trying to stay calm, she stared where the Grand Master had vanished. A vision of him in danger slammed behind her eyes. She took off at a run. She made her way to the other side of the thicket and skidded to a stop in front of a broken bridge platform. A wide gorge loomed in front of her. On the other side she made out a matching platform with the walkway dangling from its supports. She tenuously moved to the rim of the cliff and glanced to either side. There was no one there. She peered over the edge and was filled with relief. Within arm’s reach, the Grand Master climbed up what remained of the rope bridge, a small rock outcropping below him.

“Grand Master,” she called.

“Aye,” he said as his head popped over the edge. She gave him her hand.

He stared at her outstretched hand in disbelief. “You can’t pull me up.” He panted and strained to find a hold. “We’ll both go down.”

When he found none, his eyes widened and he began to slide backward. Ellyn grabbed his arm and tugged. Putting her full weight behind it, she dragged him up far enough for his other hand to find a hold. He scrambled over the top and lay face down panting at her feet. His tunic was bloody and in shreds. She examined the deep scrapes clawed into his back by the face of the cliff. It would take time for these wounds to heal. Time they didn’t have.

“I thought they called out and I followed,” Max said.

“Who called out?” she asked.

“The Ancestors, of course. This is the shortest way to the standing stones. I was too eager. I knew something was amiss.” He winced in pain. “I should have listened to my own words,” he said between clenched teeth.

“Yes. There are traps and villains everywhere,” she mimicked his words. She opened the pouch she wore at her waist and removed a vial. “You must have slid down on your back. The scrapes are deep.” Before she took care of his wounds she pressed her lips tenderly on his head, a kiss she was certain he would not feel. But his muscles twitched in response. She gasped in surprise at his reaction.

“I stepped onto the platform. It was fine.” He yawned. “But when I moved to the walkway the ropes gave way and I was falling through the air…” His voice trailed off and his eyelids slid closed.

She tenderly touched the rune tattoos on his back and gaped as each touch made them glow. She heard the tales of the magick runes but thought they were just that, tales. She stared at him, unable to say a word. She worked quickly, checking every scrape. His wounds dressed and bandaged, she massaged his shoulders. When she was satisfied his muscles were relaxed, she gently prodded him to roll onto his back. The scrapes on his chest told a different story. These appeared to be minor.

Kneeling beside him, she ministered those wounds as well. When she was done, she sat back on her heels, startled. “Well, Grand Master, that is as much as I can do. The rest is up to you.”

“Aye,” he said sleepily, followed by a soft snore.

She wiped the blood from the scratches on his cheek and studied him.

Full brows framed his wide-set eyes with long, thick lashes. His high cheekbones accentuated the deep hollows beneath them. His close-clipped beard outlined his full lips. His face spoke of power and ageless strength. He had a face that was easy to look at.

The wounds cleaned and bandaged, she bent over and gave him a lingering kiss on his forehead. Her head snapped up and her fingers went to her lips. They tingled as if she had eaten something spicy. She searched his face. His ashen color hadn’t changed. Panic welled in her throat. Her healing kiss always brought results.

His arm snaked around her and drew her to him. She didn’t resist when he pulled her closer and kissed her deeply. When she moved away his eyes were closed, the corners of his mouth tipped up in a smile, and his face took on a soft pink hue.

Relief flooded through her but was quickly replaced with doubt. For the first time she wondered if her healing kiss would be enough.

She prepared the camp and when she was done, sat back to rest. The smell of the wood and the snap of the fire were soothing. The dancing flames mesmerized her and drew her in deeper. The intertwined flames parted and in its midst she saw two figures following a light. She knew it was an omen but she could not tell if the sign was good or bad. A loud snap and a log fell, sending sparks flying, startling her out of her trance.

Drained. She anticipated the numbing feeling before it overcame her. She made herself as comfortable as possible—some tea and honey would renew her. Perhaps this was why she needed to be here. To make certain the Grand Master completed the ritual and returned. Well, there was nothing to do now but wait and see. She closed her eyes.

“You’re awake.”

He scanned the camp and found her sitting nearby licking her fingers. Bolts of heat pulsed through him as his eyes followed her tongue stroking each digit. He pulled his gaze from her tantalizing tongue to her face. He was greeted by her warm and genuine smile.

“I thought you would sleep until spring.” She stepped over to the fire and poured another cup.

“How long have I slept?” He glanced at the sun and judged it was midmorning.

“If the sunrise and set is to be believed, one day. How do you feel?”

Resting on the stone-strewn ground wrapped in his cloak, he stretched to work out the kinks that settled in his back. Blinking his eyes, everything came into focus. Did she say one day? He pulled himself up on his elbows.

She rushed and put a hand on his chest. “Not so quickly. Get up slowly.”

He sat up and took the offered hot drink.

“I found some supplies amongst your things. It’s fortunate you carried them with you.”

One whiff told him the liquid was laced with honey. He chuckled. “The first time I came to the Otherworld I took no provisions. Three days without food was…difficult.” He observed her over the rim of the cup. Her sluggish movements and drawn face told him she hadn’t slept well.

“I didn’t pack any honey,” he said, looking into the cup.

“No. I found a nearby hive and the bees were more than willing to share.”

“One day spent,” he said, more to himself. “We must go. We have to—”

“—be back at Avebury by tomorrow’s moonrise. I know.” She handed him something to break the fast.

He took the oatcake from her and ate hungrily. “What have you done all this time?”

“Admired the view.” She nodded at where he slept.

He followed her gaze. He lay in the middle of a pentagram with glistening gems set correctly at each point. He searched the area looking from side to side, panic spread across his face.

“Is this what you’re seeking?” She held out his pouch.

“Yes.” Relief rushed through him. He rummaged inside the leather bag. “Everything will be for naught if it’s gone,” he said.

“For naught?”

“I have to give the Ancestors this sacred mistletoe.” He held up the wrapped cloth. Hoping for a miracle, he held his breath and peeked inside. But the air rushed out of him when he saw the plant’s brown leaves. Disappointed and resigned, he replaced the package into his pouch and set it down. As he did, his eyes caught the gleam of the warding stones.

“What worried you that you set the wards?” His voice rang with concern. He had sensed no threat. Surely if he had he would have found the strength to set the wards. A cold sweat dampened his brow. Were his powers weakening? Would the Ancestors take action without hearing him out?

“A…feeling. That was all. I’ve learned to trust them. Besides, you were…vulnerable while you slept,” she spoke plainly.

“You have set wards and protected the area well for a healer.” He finished the last of the sparse meal. “A spae-woman?” He saw her with a new measure of respect.

“And what do you know of spae-women?” Her quiet voice held some measure of a challenge.

“They are skilled healers and are known for their ability to see events before they happen. On your island they are treated with a holy respect.” His tone was matter-of-fact. “I value the old ways and those trained in them.” He ran his hand down the healed marks on his chest. That explained why his wounds healed so fast. He flexed his back muscles while he shrugged into his clean tunic. “Many thanks for tending to me. You are indeed a special person.” He focused on her lips. The thought of them tender and swollen took him by surprise. The runes on his back warmed. A warning? No, the Ancestors called. He rose in one fluid motion onto somewhat unsteady feet. “And for keeping us both safe. We should move on as soon as possible.”