An echo in time atlantis, p.5
An Echo in Time: Atlantis, page 5
After a nudge, Bryce realised that he’d missed his cue. He stepped forward, to present the scroll bearing the Dragon’s seal to her, bowing as he did so.
She couldn’t help but smile at their antics, as she graciously accepted the dispatch. Were these men a typical example of her supposed foe?
Though Bryce didn’t want to appear rude, he couldn’t take his eyes off the girl. How could such a fragile little angel be Ossa’s daughter?
‘Be this some kind of joke?’ Aella didn’t sound angry, but rather, stunned, and a smile swept her face.
‘Nay, lady.’ Rhun smiled warmly. ‘I swear to thee.
The united kingdoms want nothing more than to see the whole of this land prosper in peace. Thus, we cannot sit by and watch half of it forced into penury by the cursed weather.’
She very much liked how relaxed and confident these men were and tended to believe their intent was of a completely innocent nature. Nevertheless, she was fairly sure her brother would not take the same view.
‘Thou art very fluent in our language, sir.’
Rhun bowed his head to accept her compliment. ‘It be my job to possess such skills.’
‘I wish I could return the consideration and thank ye in thine own tongue, but I have scarce seen any of the native people, let alone spoken with them.’ She smiled at Bryce, who still appeared rather overawed by her presence.
‘Then I hope thy first impression of the Britons be a pleasant surprise, lady.’
‘Aye,’ she confirmed, before her attention skipped back to Rhun and the cable in her hand. ‘But thou must realise this; thy kind offer be so timely and well needed, it seems almost too good to be true. I dare say my brother shall not be so willing to believe the sincerity of it.’ As she heard a group of men approaching, she added quickly, ‘Please have patience, he shall see reason in the end.’
Bryce, Rhun, and Aella looked to the door as Ongen entered. He was the oldest son of Ossa, and thus it was he who had charge of the affairs of state in his father’s absence.
Ongen, tall and top-heavy, as his father had been in his younger days, stopped just inside the door and looked to the messengers of the council. ‘Arrest them,’
he ordered without blinking an eye.
Bryce looked to Rhun, hoping he hadn’t understood Ongen correctly.
‘Now we art in trouble.’ Rhun confirmed his friend’s fears.
‘Nay! Warn him of Britain’s intent if the council do not hear from us,’ Bryce implored Rhun as the soldiers took hold of them.
Aella spoke up. ‘Ongen, they have brought a peace offering. The Britons wish to supply us with food enough for the winter.’
‘Aella, thou art so gullible!’ Ongen scolded. ‘Can thou not see it be naught but a trick?’
‘Look, I hate to interrupt …’ Rhun sounded awfully calm as he was escorted past Ongen, ‘but the council will retaliate if we do not return.’
Ongen smacked Rhun fair in the jaw. ‘Let them.’
Bryce broke free of his captors to catch his friend before he hit the floor.
‘Ouch!’ Rhun mumbled, as Bryce set him back on his feet and threw an arm around his back to walk Rhun out of the room. ‘Perhaps we should not have mentioned it.’
‘Just let them return home,’ Aella pleaded. ‘We cannot afford to go to war!’
‘Quiet!’ Ongen thrust her to the floor, just a little too roughly for Bryce’s liking. Bryce left Rhun to his own devices and barged through the guard toward the lady’s assailant.
When Ongen turned back to view the disturbance, all he saw was the bottom of Bryce’s boot as it encountered his face.
As the Saxon leader hit the floor, blood streaming from his nose, Bryce held a hand down to help Aella to her feet.
Her large blue eyes gazed up at him in awe; such gallantry expended on a female was unknown to her. ‘I am indebted to thee, sir.’ She smiled and held out her hand to place it in his, but her brother’s soldiers dragged him away.
The tower of Ossa’s fortification in Londinium, if nothing else, did afford a splendid view of the city below. Even at this time of night, fires and torches were blazing for as far as the eye could see.
‘Londinium be bigger than I imagined.’ Bryce peered through one of the many long, slender slits in the wall.
These windows were designed to be wide enough to shoot an arrow from, yet too narrow for even a young child to squeeze through.
‘I wonder if all their women art as fair as Aella?’
Rhun’s thoughts were back in Ossa’s room of court also, only with Ongen. ‘Let them.’ Rhun mused over the warrior’s final words to him. ‘He sounded pretty confident, considering their state of affairs. I dare say, I would not be inviting a war in the same circumstance.’ Rhun looked to Bryce, who was not listening to him.
‘Did thou see her hair? Straight and fair, just like thy mother’s. It near touched the floor.’
Rhun couldn’t believe it. Bryce was seldom preoccupied with those of the fairer sex — bar the High Queen, of course. What a time for Bryce to go soft on him. ‘Forget the girl. Show me thy boot.’
‘What?’
‘The one thee struck Ongen with.’ Rhun beckoned with his fingers for Bryce to comply.
Bryce rested his foot on the bench by Rhun, appearing puzzled.
‘Ah-huh!’
‘What?’
Rhun wiped his fingers across the leather and held them up triumphant. ‘Blood. Ongen’s blood.’ He smiled.
‘Aye.’ Bryce grinned. ‘I got him good.’
This was not what Rhun had meant, however. He considered that even though Ongen had asked for the belting, it was not the most diplomatic course of action to have taken — but, hopefully, it would serve them now. ‘Go back to thy vision, friend. I have need to concentrate.’
‘Dost thou think thou may be able to learn something of Ongen?’
Rhun rubbed the tips of his fingers against each other, getting a feel of the individual from whose body the blood had flowed. ‘Perhaps.’ He closed his eyes to focus. ‘Let me be awhile.’
Bryce moved away to the windows, though his eyes remained glued on his friend. Rhun was peaceful a few moments, then he began to quiver violently. ‘Goddess preserve us!’ His eyes shot open. ‘They art going to release Mahaud.’ He rushed to a puddle of water on the stone floor by the windows to scrub the blood from his hands.
‘Holy mother! We must stop them.’ Bryce raced for the stairs.
‘Hold on.’ Rhun recommended a little restraint. ‘I have an idea, but I need total silence. So please, just sit.’
Rhun walked into the centre of the round room and took a seat, assuming the lotus position. It was a long time since he’d tried to bethink his mother thus, and never had he attempted it from such a distance. But still, as Taliesin said, it be only a matter of will; time and space art an illusion.
Vanora entered the inner bailey courtyard at Aberffraw sometime around noon. So many maids wandered in and out in the course of a day, going about the duties of the house, that the guards let them pass without questioning every one as to her errand. As Vanora appeared well-kept and was alone, she passed right though the guards without either one batting an eyelid.
She awaited the midnight hour by the sundial, which was located amongst the extensive gardens in the huge courtyard of the High King’s manor. When the waxing moon was high in the sky, marking a time of new beginnings, Vanora emerged from her hiding place. The silvery light from above shed scatterings of light upon the area she approached. This sundial marked the sacred site through which Mahaud had been banished, hence it was from here that she must be released.
Vanora set down the utensils for summoning the evil spirit of her mentor in their respective places around the sundial. Mahaud’s crooked old wand was laid in a southerly position to summon the element of fire. A smaller cauldron, used by the old witch for such purposes as this, was placed to the west to invoke the element of water. A large hunk of crystal, black as night in colour, sat to the north to summon the element of earth. Vanora placed the sword of Vortigern, archtraitor of Britain, in the easterly position. The sword of Vortigern was a memento of one of Mahaud’s past encounters: she had been known to advise the warlord on occasion, and, ever since his death, the witch had found his weapon most effective for conjuring up the more mischievous elementals in the air.
When all was placed as it should be, Vanora stood just outside the circle and directed her energies into the centre. She focused herself a moment, the better to concentrate on her summons.
Vanora chanted her verse three times over, in accordance with the law of three requests:
‘O fire of demons, water of drought,
I call on thee to draw her out.
The one who hast served thee
and granted thee power,
release from her prison
in this midnight hour.
Air of suffocation, darkest side of mother earth, Thy combined force can give her birth.
The one who wast banished here
and cast from this plane,
grant her the means
to be born again.’
Upon her first utterance, the ground within the centre of the circle began to glow red with a throbbing motion.
Upon her second recitation, the ground beneath the sundial began to rumble and break up.
As Vanora neared the end of her third and final rendition, guards began to flood the grounds, but they were too late.
The sundial crumbled into the earth as the ground beneath it split apart. A thick stream of glowing red and black gas shot into the air, forming one glowing mass of energy that covered the sky as it extended itself over the manor.
The witch’s advocate screeched with exultant laughter as an electrical storm erupted, the like of which none had ever witnessed before. It appeared as if the sky was on fire and red bolts of lightning tore through the rumbling clouds. All of Mahaud’s sacred implements were sucked into the raging torrent of energy, whereby Vanora calmly turned and walked toward the closed inner bailey portcullis.
Guards pursued her, only to be struck down in flames by the lightning from above. The large, iron portcullis, deeply inset into the stone walls of the house, was blasted from its foundations. The guards could do naught but watch as the culprit walked out through the gaping hole left in the wake of the explosion.
The High Queen had barely slept since her son’s departure. Not that she really needed much rest.
Immortality did have its advantages — or drawbacks, as these past two nights had seemed endless to her.
Tory remained motionless and silent in the darkened room, her thoughts roaming the Otherworld in search of some news of her Masters. The strange thing was, the spirits seemed deathly silent. All she was able to perceive was a great expanse of blackness that accompanied an eerie chill.
Please Goddess, help me, she pleaded, feeling a sudden sense of urgency. A glimpse of them is all I ask.
From within the blackness behind her eyes, the image of her boy took form.
Mother. Hear me, please.
I hear thee, Rhun, she assured, relieved beyond all belief. Where art thou? How fares thy mission? She was proud that he’d attempted to make contact with her thus.
She would have had great difficulty finding him otherwise.
Never mind about that, we have far greater problems.
Rhun was fairly confident he could get Bryce and himself safely out of their predicament on his own, so he mustered the most positive sense-of-being that he could, to prevent his mother being distracted from the more important task.
Ossa intends to release Mahaud, and she hast given him the means to do it. He left near a week ago with the witch’s cauldron, of the mind to seek out Vanora.
That explains the great blackness. Tory considered the possibilities. He must have cast a shielding spell over their party, or we surely would have known of this sooner.
Indeed, Rhun confirmed.
But what of thee? A huge disturbance, formed of a red flare of light, engulfed her vision of Rhun. When it passed, he was gone. Rhun. Rhun! But there was no response. Her etheric sight perceived naught but the dark, cold silence.
Damn it. Tory sat back in her chair, pausing to think a moment. I need to speak with Taliesin at once.
No sooner had she decided this than Taliesin passed right through the wall of her room to speak with her.
‘Majesty. I fear something loathsome hast happened.
Did thou feel it?’
‘Aye I did,’ she was sorry to admit. ‘And, unfortunately, Rhun had just got through informing me that Ossa planned to release Mahaud. Hence, I suspect he hast succeeded.’
Taliesin’s solemn expression became even more so.
‘Then it be worse than we thought.’
‘How so?’ Maelgwn inquired, as he approached them. He was belting on his trousers, having just woken from a deep sleep.
‘Ossa can only release the witch from the place she was banished.’
Tory and Maelgwn looked to each other, horrified.
‘Aberffraw!’
5
BETRAYAL
The royal house at Aberffraw shook furiously and the walls had begun to crumble by the time Sir Tiernan and Ione reached the doorway to the courtyard. They were scarce able to believe the apocalyptic scene that awaited them there.
Ione drew her sword, her anger mounting with every rumble of the earth and every flash of deadly lightning.
She was more than ready to challenge those responsible, though amid the chaos of the disaster who could tell friend from foe.
‘Nay!’ Tiernan urged her over the din. ‘We cannot fight this. We must get everybody out.’
Ione nodded in confirmation, replacing her sword in its scabbard as she quickly made for the maidens’
quarters.
Javotte, daughter of Sir Angus and Lady Alma, had already started directing the younger noblewomen out one of the windows that led to the courtyard when Ione flung the door open.
‘Javotte, get out quickly!’ She urged the young warrioress to follow the others out the window. ‘The building be about to fold.’
‘Nay.’ Javotte ran in Ione’s direction. ‘I must find my parents.’
The ceiling of the room collapsed behind her and Javotte barely made it into the hallway where Ione awaited her.
‘I shall make thee pay for that,’ Ione told her with a smile.
Javotte was her prize student and had as much gall as the best of the male warriors. She was rumoured to become the next to be initiated into the circle of twelve.
‘Let us go, now.’ Ione sprinted toward the west tower. She held little hope of them making it out through the house to the main door, thus they would have to risk the secret passage. At low tide, the tunnel from the west tower granted one an escape onto the beach via the cliff face — if, of course, the passage hadn’t collapsed.
Sir Angus and his wife, Alma, raced out of the house and through the courtyard, the ground between them beginning to break up.
‘Angus!’ Alma fell to her knees to prevent herself diving into the gaping cavern that had erupted before her.
‘Goddess be merciful!’ Angus neared the ever-expanding edge of the chasm between himself and his wife. ‘Jump, I shall catch thee.’
The ground to the other side of her began to fall away. In a few moments, she would find herself on an island of flimsy soil that would simply crumble beneath her. Alma, as virile as she was, knew she could not make the jump her husband was asking her to attempt. ‘I love thee, Angus,’ she vowed, as the earth rumbled again.
‘Damn thee, Alma!’ The tears rolled down his cheeks as he, too, realised that the jump would surely kill her. ‘There must be a way. Thou must try.’
They’d just about reached the west tower, when Javotte stopped to approach one of the large windows that afforded a view of the courtyard. From here, she witnessed her parent’s sad circumstance.
Her father was on his knees, his arms outstretched towards her mother, when the tiny piece of earth on which Alma sat crumbled into the abyss that separated them.
‘Mother!’ Javotte cried, smashing her fists against the window.
As the glass shattered, Ione grabbed Javotte around the waist and hauled her into the tower. Somehow, she managed to avoid the falling debris from above, for even the stone towers were starting to collapse. Ione set the girl on her feet and pushed her down through the trapdoor. ‘Run!’
Ione closed the door behind them and scampered down the ladder after Javotte. The heavy stone from the tower walls crashed down onto the trapdoor overhead, which threatened to collapse on top of them at any moment. As Ione’s feet hit the ground she dived for the entrance of the tunnel that led to the beach, taking Javotte with her. The wooden floor above finally gave way and a mound of rubble showered down to block their place of entry.
Ione rose, brushing the dust from her face. ‘Well, we art not getting out that way.’ She turned her sights to the darkened cavern on her other side.
Javotte raised herself to a seated position, and then burst into tears.
Lady Alma had been a close friend of Ione’s for many years and she would grieve her loss, but this was neither the time, nor place, to lament. The tremors were intensifying. Ione dragged Javotte to her feet. ‘Cry on thy own time, soldier.’ She thrust Javotte off in the right direction.
Yet the girl stopped abruptly, still stricken with grief.
‘Thou hast no heart,’ she sobbed.
‘And thou hast no sense.’ Ione grabbed her by the wrist and took off down the tunnel, dragging her reluctant student along behind her.
Although Maelgwn had never gone so far as to learn how to teleport his physical body from one place to another (although he had mastered the art with his etheric form), between Tory and Taliesin they managed to transfer all three of them to Aberffraw without too much delay.
