Raging Sea (24 page)

T
hey built the funeral pyre not in the center of the circle, but in front of the stone marked with the sign of the priest. Ander, in a touching gesture, escorted Aislinn, who led the procession of priests carrying Marcus's body down the path to the henge. William and Brienne and Soren and Ran followed next. Then the rest of those in their company. For once, the Norman guard was not at Aislinn's side, but offered begrudgingly accepted help to another of the injured priests.

Of all those mourning, William's man Roger seemed the most devastated by Marcus's death. Though Aislinn openly grieved, Roger did so in silence, holding the mark on his arm that Soren learned Marcus had made to link them all.

When they entered the outer ring, they turned and walked around the perimeter seven times. Then entering the inner circle, they walked in the other direction seven more times. Reaching the pyre, they placed his body on top of the wooden slats and branches.

Aislinn offered a final prayer aloud and then the priests surrounded the pyre and prayed in silence for a short time. As the sun rose to begin a new day, Ander lit the fire under the body and stepped back. Kneeling next to Aislinn, Soren's friend offered prayers in the Latin rite for the dead.

They would remain for a time and then leave, also in procession; any remains of the body would be left to excarnate on the pyre.

Just as Aislinn began to rise to signal their departure, Ander grabbed her hand and held her there. Aislinn stared at Soren's friend and shook her head. Soren took several paces toward them when she waved him off.

Ander spoke out in a loud voice then and it carried out over the circle.

“When the threat is revealed and the sleepers awaken, a Warrior seeks the truth while the Fire burns away the deception. Begin in the East then North, then South then West, find the true gate amongst the rest.”

“The prophecy!” William said.

Then Aislinn spoke: “While those of the blood advance and the lost lose their way, Water and Storm protect the hidden. The hidden reveals its secrets only to those who struggle with their faith.”

Soren noticed everyone waiting for the next part. The prophecy was supposed to be revealed when the gateway was closed, but Ander did not know how to find it. But when Ander spoke again, saying words they had not heard, Soren realized that it mattered not, for the prophecy had found him.

“The faithful are lost and the lost have faith. The Bringer of Life cares for the Caretaker, and the one who loses all will gain the most.”

In one motion, Aislinn and Ander faced south and each pointed in unison toward the west of England.

Now they knew where the next circle would be found. Soren had heard that there was a great stone henge and many other standing stones in the western countryside on the ancient plain of Sarum. But where would they find the hidden one?

William and the other leaders decided that they needed to rest and organize for a journey that far. He sent word to those in Hamnavoe to wait for their arrival three days hence, and the groups traveled down to Orphir, both to bury Ran's father and to reclaim their property.

The organized camp Soren had found was gone. The ships were gone. Hugh de Gifford was gone. The house was empty of people and supplies. And neither Ran nor Ander would remain inside it. Soren arranged a shelter for himself and Ran in one of the unused barns, and Ander found a place to sleep amongst the other priests.

As warrior and strategist, William scheduled guards and set up duties and tasks for all his men for the next days until they would leave to travel south. Messengers came and went. Supplies were purchased and sent to the ships in Hamnavoe harbor.

Soren decided not to seek out his grandfather's cottage before they left Orkney. Arrangements were made to find Ingeborg and explain the events to her. Something deep within told him that Hugh had sent someone there once he'd learned of Einar's powers and his knowledge.

“You are frowning,” Ran said, stroking his back as they discussed what she would tell her brother. They sat at a table brought out of the house, working on a letter. Ran had resisted entering the house since they'd returned.

“I was thinking,” he said. He did not want to speak about Einar. “I think Erik should know the truth about Aslaug, but I think telling him the truth about the bairn would be cruel,” he explained.

“Crueler than deceiving him?” Ran asked.

“I think we should wait and tell him to his face,” Soren said, leaning back and pulling her to him. “'Tis not something he should find out this way,” he said, pointing to the parchment she'd begun writing on.

“Do you think we will live to tell him?” Ran asked.

Soren took her hand and kissed the palm of it. He leaned into her, enjoying the experience of having her close at hand and knowing she would be.

“I cannot say what the future will hold for us,” he said. “But with the gift you carry, I pray—as does good Father Ander—for a swift end to the evil one and her henchman.”

“Ah, you mention his name and he appears,” Ran said, standing to greet Father Ander and the priest who Aislinn said would be consecrated as their high priest.

“Soren. Ran.” Father Ander smiled and greeted them. “Corann has asked me to present him to you.”

Soren stood and helped Corann to sit. His leg was splinted as was his arm. Bruises of purple and green lined the edges of his jaw and cheeks. “I have seen you before, Corann. Aislinn tells us you are to be high priest?”

“Not by my choice,” Corann said. He was not an old man, not as old as Marcus had been, but his voice was filled with a tone that spoke of experience and knowledge. “Marcus designated me when he learned of the gods' plans for his own end.” Corann paused a moment, thinking, Soren knew, about that ending. “I will do my best to teach and care for our people.”

“When will you gain your new position, Corann?” Ran asked as she sat back down. “Is there a ceremony?”

“There is always a ceremony or ritual to be held,” he said with a laugh. “Those have held us together over the generations. They connect us to our past and will connect us to future generations to come.” He finished with a strange stare at Ran.

“So is there something we can do for you? Is that why you wanted to meet us?” Soren asked. The odd expression remained as the priest watched Ran with a special curiosity.

“Nay! Nay,” he said, shaking his head. Then Ander nodded at him and Corann continued. “Ander and I wanted to offer our services to you. To you and Ran,” he said. “That is . . .” He paused and frowned at Ander. “I mean . . .”

Soren laughed then at the man's clear discomfort at whatever the topic was to be. “What services would they be?”

“Aislinn has explained to me, gods forgive me for not being there to witness it myself, that you and Ran actually had the god and goddess within you for a time.”

Ran blushed at him, thinking of the same times when they had given their bodies over to the deities. “Aye. Several times,” he said.

He did not need a deity inhabiting his body to merge with Ran. Indeed, his body gave him a clear sign that he would be willing even at that moment.

“So, we two wondered if you would want to have your union blessed before the community? Our community. All of us,” Corann finally got the words out.

They'd been busy handling so many tasks dealing with endings and departures that Soren had not thought about that. Although he knew he would never give Ran up and that they had joined in a way unlike any he'd imagined possible, they had not spoken of marriage.

Not since the pledge they'd made between themselves had been broken two years past. She'd not said a word during this whole time, so he turned to her.

“Would you be my wife, Ran? I think we have waited long enough to claim each other in marriage.” He held out his hand to her. He had no doubt of her decision, but he wanted to hear her say the words, now that all barriers between them were gone and the unhappy past could be just that.

“Aye, Soren Stormblood,” Ran said, taking his hand. “I will wed you and take you as husband.”

“Praise be!” Corann shouted. His voice carried and drew the attention of those working nearby.

“Praise God!” Ander added.

“When should we celebrate this wedding, Corann?” Ran asked.

“Well, we usually perform weddings under the new moon. 'Tis so full of promise, you see. However, considering . . .” He glanced at Soren and then gave that odd expression to Ran. “Well, considering, that you are . . . you are . . .”

Once again the man could not say the words intended. Soren now understood the peculiar looks—somehow Corann knew about the baby Ran carried. The news about which neither of them wanted to share yet.

“Impatient, Corann? We are impatient to marry,” he said with a laugh. Ran understood. “When do you suggest an impatient man and woman marry?”

“We think on the morrow since we leave the day after that. It will give our people something to feel joyful about.”

Corann rose and limped away, talking to Ander as though an old friend, calling back instructions as he went.

“If we had done this two years past, there would be banns to be called and a bishop presiding,” Ran said, moving over to sit on his lap.

“Now we have a pagan priest and a fallen Catholic one presiding with no banns being called,” Soren said. “In some moments, I cannot fathom what has happened to us in these last weeks. I thought I had lost you two years ago. I thought I would lose you several times since this all began.”

“And now, you know you will never lose me,” Ran said. Leaning down closer, she kissed him.

“Promise me I will never lose you,” he insisted. “Promise me.” He slid his hand into her hair and held her mouth on his, kissing her several times before he released her.

“That is what will happen at our wedding, husband-to-be of mine. Promises made. Promises blessed. I think I should speak to Brienne and Aislinn about this.” She laughed and kissed him quickly once more. She stood to leave him, but turned back to him at the last moment.

Her eyes glowed and the turquoise aura she carried grew brighter. She spoke with the voice of the sea and it sent shivers through his entire being.

“Sea and sky, never to be parted, never not touching. You have always been and shall always be part of me, Soren Stormblood.”

He met her gaze and spoke in a voice as deep as the rumbling thunder in a storm.

“Sea and sky, never to be parted, never not touching or being touched. You will always be part of me as I am part of you, Ran Waterblood.”

The words came from his soul in response to hers and Soren discovered the next evening that they made the perfect wedding vows.

A
islinn thought it was appropriate for them to exchange their vows in the same sacred place where they had defeated evil. But rather than inside the ring, they chose to speak their words at the entrance to it, on the shore of the lake.

Corann and Ander led them to that place and faced them and the community, who stood at their backs. Although she was filled with grief at the loss of Marcus, Aislinn did feel joy for these two souls who would pledge their hearts and bodies and love to each other.

She watched as Soren and Ran faced each other and joined their hands in between. The priest of the one god began, saying words in Latin and offering prayers she'd never heard. After he finished, he motioned to Corann. Ander was not familiar with their customs, for they believed the man and woman should offer themselves and the priest simply watched. So Corann did just that, less than how Marcus liked to bless marriages, but each high priest would have his own ways.

“Soren Thorson, we are sea and sky, never to be parted, never not touching. You have always been and shall always be part of me and I take you as my husband,” Ran said first. From Soren's expression, he'd heard these words before. She nodded at him and then at the priests.

“Ran Sveinsdottir, you are sea to my sky, never to be parted, never not touching or being touched. You will always be part of me as I am part of you, even as you carry a part of me within you now,” Soren said, revealing their secret to one and all. “And I take you as my wife before this community.”

Aislinn watched as a blush filled Ran's cheeks, and then they kissed. Cheers and good wishes were shouted out before Corann raised his hand over them.

“It is right. It is blessed. It has been foretold. The waterblood and stormblood are blessed by the gods. Their union is a holy one. Praise be!” Corann shouted out.

Tears streamed down her cheeks now, listening to the words and knowing that Ran and Soren were two halves of one whole heart and soul. She wiped them away with the back of her hand as she went to offer them her good wishes. And then changed her mind.

Remaining in the shadows, Aislinn let the others celebrate without her sadness interfering. Staring off at the stone ring she did not hear the woman's approach.

“Tears of happiness for the waterblood and stormblood, priestess?” the woman asked. She did not know this woman and yet did not feel fear. A hazy red shadow outlined her, but that was likely caused by the light of the many fires along the water's edge.

“Aye,” she said nodding. “I am happy for them.”

“And you, young one? Do you have someone you wish as your own?” The woman moved closer to her and whispered, “Have you dreamed of him yet?”

“Nay,” she said. “There is no one. I have too many tasks to complete for the gods before I think about marriage.”

“You are blessed, Aislinn of Cork. Yours is a special destiny. A difficult one. But you should pray to see him. The gods will be gracious to one who is in their favor.”

Something fell at her feet and she bent to retrieve it. A small carved horse lay there, one such as a child would play with. The woman must have dropped it. Turning to find her, Aislinn found the area around her empty. Brisbois stood his usual distance from her.

“Brisbois, where did that woman go?” she asked. He must have seen her. Their paths should have crossed.

“There was no woman, priestess. Only you.” He crossed his arms over his massive chest, signaling that he was done talking.

“You must have seen her—she dropped this toy. I would like to return it to her.” Brisbois simply let out an aggrieved breath and shrugged.

Only as she returned to her tent did she realize what the woman had called her.

Aislinn of Cork.

No one save Marcus knew of her birthplace. No one save Marcus knew her origins. No one could. It was too dangerous, he'd always told her.

She must have misunderstood the woman. According to Brisbois there was not even one. Mayhap her grief and exhaustion caused her to mistake the words? She prepared for sleep, but held on to the carved piece of wood.

And that night, for the first time, she dreamt of a man. A handsome young man of black hair and blue eyes who seemed to know her when he saw her. A man who was special, surrounded with a red aura as the other bloodlines were with the color of their gods. A man who called her by name before he disappeared.

He called her Aislinn of Cork.

•   •   •

Soren stole Ran away, taking her up the road to Brodgar's Ring. He'd checked and made certain that the shelter he'd set up there for them that first night was still in good condition. It would be far enough away from the others for the privacy deserved on a wedding night.

They would depart in the morning on ships on a journey that would take them away from the only home he'd ever known to a destination filled with danger. They would depart with the dozens and dozens of others on their shared quest and would, according to William and the others, meet more in the next place.

So, this night would be his last alone with her. As they reached the place and he slowed the horse, she leaned over and looked around him. Seeing the hut, she laughed.

“We have been here before,” she said, as he helped her down from the horse. “But it looks much more comfortable than I remember.” She walked up and he knew the moment she saw his preparations. Several thick blankets. A basket with food and ale. More blankets. “You did this?”

“Aye. I thought this would be the perfect place to consummate our wedding vows.”

She smiled and nodded. “I wanted you that night,” she admitted. “I was furious at you and angry that I could still want you.”

“But you did not recognize this place that night, did you? Do you now?” he asked, walking up behind her and standing close. He thought that might spark her memory.

When she shook her head, he reached out and took her hands in his. Leaning forward, he placed them on the frame of the hut above her head. Then, he crouched down behind her and slid his hands up under her gown, following her long legs up and up. Her body reacted, pressing back against him. When he'd gathered her skirts in his hand, he tossed them up on her back, out of his way.

“Not yet?” he asked, sliding his hand between her legs.

“Nay,” she said on a gasp.

Her body arched, bringing the full flesh of her arse against his cock. He loosened the ties on his breeches and let them fall. Pressing his other hand on her lower back to open her for him, he slid his prick into her.

“Yet?” he asked, sliding his length slowly and completely into her flesh.

“Nay.” The word came out on her breath as he moved more forcefully against her. Holding her hips, he plunged in and drew back several times, feeling the muscles inside her grasp his cock, trying to milk it dry already.

“Not until you remember,” he warned. He slid one hand around and palmed her belly and mons. She moaned then. One finger then two moved deeper into her cleft and teased her there. One slight touch in that sensitive spot and she clenched her flesh together.

“I cannot believe you do not remember this place,” he said, stopping all movement. “I thought women were the maudlin ones.”

“Mayhap I remember and just want you to tease me this way?” she asked, pressing her arse against him, pushing him in deeper.

“Liar,” he whispered against her hair as he leaned over her. “You know I will draw this out for you. You know I would do anything you asked of me.”

“Tell me,” she said, breathily. “And move as you do.”

He laughed. He loved those kinds of demands. He moved. He moved faster and deeper, his fingers stroking the folds harder and faster, too. He knew she was close. He knew her body well. He knew every dimple and fold. He knew the places to drive her to madness and the ones that would ease them to it.

“This is where we . . .”

He'd waited too long. One more stroke against the sensitive bud between her legs and she came undone around him. Shuddering, her body sent wave after wave of spasms around his flesh, drawing him ever closer to release. But, he had more planned for her this night, so with another thrust of his hips against her, he sent her screaming toward satisfaction.

He held her tightly against his body as she did, giving her the security she needed to let go. When her body calmed, she let her arms go, and then slid to her knees, him still seated inside her.

“We stood in this direction so we would see anyone approaching,” she said. “But you complained that I made too much noise and would expose us anyway.”

“It was my first time with a woman; how was I to know that loud was a good thing?” he said.

“A young man filled with desire but no knowledge can be a dangerous thing,” she said.

“A young man filled with need but an earnest desire to please a young woman filled with lust can be a very good thing,” he corrected.

He was still hard within her. He waited for her to tell him she was ready. When she wiggled against him, he knew.

“And an experienced married man with a willing wife can be a wonderful thing,” she said.

Soren took the rest of the night to show her how much better a married man could be.

By the time the sun rose the next morning, they had dressed, gathered up the blankets and were about to return to the camp. That was when the rumbling began over the hill. Soren ran toward it, warning her away in case they were in danger. The daft woman, of course, ran along with him to the top of the hill.

With Brodgar at their back and the Loch of Stenness before them, the newly revealed stone circle filled their sight. The rumbling grew deeper and louder and the ground around them shook and shuddered. He grabbed her hand and held her close as the water began to swirl around the henge.

The water swirled and winds ripped around it, knocking stones over, this way and that, until the circle began to both slide and sink back beneath the surface. In a few minutes' time, the entire structure was gone, now lying deep enough to be completely hidden from view.

A few more minutes and the waters calmed. They rushed back to the stones at Stenness and the path that had led to the circle just a short time before. William, Brienne, Aislinn and others reached it at the same time.

“Did you two do that?” William asked. “Return the circle to its hiding place?”

Ran looked at him and shook her head. Soren did too.

“The gods have reclaimed it,” Aislinn said. “Hiding it away now that it is sealed.” She looked at each one. “Praise be.”

“May it never rise again,” Brienne said softly. They all understood her prayer.

“Amen,” Ander added, as he arrived.

Within a few hours, they had boarded the waiting ships to journey to the south of England.