Raging Sea (17 page)

“Where is she?” he asked.

“Away from us, in the hills, until she can gain control,” Aislinn explained.

“Damn it,” William shouted. “Damn him to hell!” His skin began to shift to blue and his eyes blazed. The warblood was very close. He strode off, calling out orders and growling as he went.

“He will seek her out,” Aislinn explained. Soren knew from the look in the man's and the warblood's eyes that his mate would not be alone for long.

“How does he do that?” Ran asked. “Change into that creature and yet keep control.”

“Love.” He turned at the single-word reply. She continued. “His love for her and hers for him enables them both to retain their humanity even while in their bloodline form.”

He shook his head. Before he could say anything, Aislinn touched his hand.

“You have had that ability from the beginning of your powers because of the love that already existed between you two,” Aislinn said. “It is most powerful.”

Ran made a soft noise and he glanced at her. Her discomfort at this topic was there on her face. She might have accepted that something still existed between them, but she was not ready to speak of such things to strangers.

“If you are ready then, Ran?” Soren interrupted, holding out his hand once more. Aislinn nodded and stepped away.

“I would speak with you when you return, Ran,” the young priestess said.

Soren scooped her into his arms and lifted her high in the air. It was very peaceful up here and he found that he stopped and just floated many times just to enjoy it. He did that now, allowing Ran to see everything beneath them.

“The coastline looks so very different from here,” she whispered. “And even more so when I am in the water.”

“Have a look,” he said, holding her still. “There is the Bay of Skaill. And look how the layers of rock change at the sea's edge.”

He'd climbed on many rock outcroppings, risking falling into the dangerous waters. It was something boys did to challenge themselves.

If he dawdled now, enjoying the feel of her in his embrace, with no one else around them, he refused to feel guilt over it. Since meeting up with these outsiders, they had barely a moment without others around. The priests liked to ask them questions. The others—the warblood and fireblood—spoke of powers and plans. Even Roger and the other men drew his attention away from where he wanted it—on Ran.

“I think I would remain up if I had this power,” she said as they flew south.

“Do you feel that way when you are with the sea?”

“Aye. I feel safe there. It is my refuge.”

Her voice was not that of the strong woman he knew. She had been injured, so injured that she sought the sea and him to recover from it.

“I am here for you, Ran,” he whispered. She looked at him and said nothing. “But you do not trust me. You love me, but you do not trust.”

She sighed and he carried it away on the winds.

“I cannot simply change what I feel or I would,” she explained, her gaze still on the ground and not on him.

She would have let go of the love she had for him, if she could have. Soren understood it.

“Nor can I,” he said. “I do not expect that you should. I would just tell you that I will prove myself to you, if you will give me the chance.”

Ran neither agreed to nor denied his plea. Considering how long she had been convinced he'd betrayed her, it came as no surprise to him. He was also certain that her father added to her anger and humiliation. Erik being involved did not help either. All because Soren had not stood up to her father's ludicrous demands.

All to protect a man who truly was a heretic and who believed in other gods. Worse, those gods were not as false as they'd been taught to believe.

But she had let Soren close, let him inside her, and she had sought him out for help when her father was in danger. That must mean that there was some chance to rebuild the trust lost. When this was over, there would be time to sort out the rest.

If they survived at all.

F
rom this height, Ran could see the mysterious mounds scattered all across the land. As Soren took her closer to the slip of land between the two large lakes, she saw that the number of mounds increased. Around Brodgar, she could count at least a dozen. More trailed north to the henge called Bookan. And more spread south toward and around Stenness.

Whatever the reason for them, it was clear that this area was held to be special by the ancient builders who erected these circles of stone and the cairns and mounds around them. Ran had visited most of the larger islands of Orkney and knew that these structures existed on all of them, but none had as many as the Mainland.

Only Kirkwall and the immediate area had none.

This area of the island meant something special. The stone circles and brochs and burial cairns and mounds spoke to it. As did the other darker feelings Ran had when she stood near the edge of Loch Harray, where Einar's first map marked it with those squares.

Soren set her down near Stenness, where they'd first felt something around them. The two priests were there, examining the stones. They stood and stared as Soren took his human shape again. Ran could not fault them for their curiosity, for it must be extraordinary to see proof of their beliefs right before their eyes.

“Stormblood. Waterblood,” the priests said in voices filled with awe and respect. “How may we serve you?” the older one asked, bowing low before them.

“William said you might help us search for symbols or markings,” Ran said, walking toward them. Soren handed her the map he always held close now and she unfolded it. “Here. And here,” Ran pointed at the two places she was curious about.

“Of course, Waterblood,” the priest said, bowing again. “We will do whatever is required to serve you.”

At first, the bowing and the glances had been complimentary. Now though, they made her uncomfortable, as they also made Soren, if his expression was any indication.

“I pray you, please call me Ran. And this is Soren,” she nodded at him. “And you are called . . . ?”

The astonishment on their faces surprised her. But one priest looked at the other and then back to them, apparently not willing to disobey a descendant of their gods.

“I am called Aleron and this is Kester,” the younger priest offered.

After a few minutes of awkwardness, with the priests continuing to bow at their every word or request, the two grew more at ease with them. The bad feeling was gone now, but the buzzing grew as they neared the stones.

“Do you see that there are eight stones remaining in place, Soren?” she asked him. He glanced around, counting them and studying their places.

“This looks like the same alignment that Einar drew around the chamber. Look how these stones are shaped,” he pointed out. Walking to the middle of the circle, he looked again and nodded. “The one marked with your symbol would be that one,” he indicated the one to the west. “The one that matches mine would be this one.” Soren walked over to that stone.

Ran walked to the one he'd pointed out to her and realized he was correct. Einar had drawn this arrangement in the broch. The low noise grew and she leaned closer to determine whether the sound came from the stone or something else. Ran placed her hands on the stone . . .

...and the world she knew disappeared.

The circle appeared as though freshly hewn and placed on the ground near the lakes. But this land was wider and the lakes smaller in size. Eleven stones stood in place, and people wearing white robes danced around them. Bells and drums filled the air along with the whispered chants and songs of the priests.

Then two priests led a woman into the circle and stood her within a smaller circle of three smaller stones positioned there. She swayed to the beat of the drums, her eyes closed, her arms extended to the sky. The people gathered around the outside of the circle, the music and sounds growing raucous now.

The scene continued before Ran as though she was not there.

Two priestesses led a man into the circle now and stood him before the woman. Ran realized that the woman was drunk, for she seemed unaware of those around her. The priests took hold of her arms and pulled her down to the ground there, stripping the thin gown off her as they did.

She must help her. Ran let go of the stone and made her way to the center where the woman lay writhing on the ground, being stroked by the two men holding her there. Ran shouted but no one seemed to hear her.

Then the priestesses tore off the small garment the man wore around his waist and began to pleasure him with their hands and mouths, until his prick grew long and thick and hard. They led him to the woman. All six fell to the ground, their bodies rubbing and pressing against one another. The people around the circle began chanting some words. As she watched, unable to stop them or make them hear her, the priests and priestesses rose and surrounded the couple still on the ground.

They were . . . rutting.

The chanting grew louder and louder, the tone and timing of it sexual in nature and the man paced his thrusts into the woman to those chants. The woman moaned in pleasure, still on the ground, as the man plowed deep into her.

Ran looked away and then saw an old man carrying a large dagger into the circle. He walked seven times around the circle in one direction, then another seven times in the other, stopping before the couple on the ground in the center. The chanting and prayers reached a feverish pitch as the man threw back his head and screamed out as his seed released into the woman. They moved in unison as he emptied into her.

Then, quicker than she thought possible, the old man straddled the couple, grabbed the man's head and slashed into his neck. The woman kept screaming out her release as the blood poured over her. The priests took hold of the dying man and lifted him out and away from the woman, allowing his blood to cover her. As she lay shuddering with her own release, the people fell to their knees and touched their heads to the ground.

Unable to breathe or move, Ran watched in horror as the priests and priestesses dipped branches in the man's blood and blessed all those around the circle with it. The naked woman climbed to her feet, following them, and allowed the people to touch her, taking the blood of her lover to smear on themselves.

“May she be fertile!” the old priest called out.

“May she be fertile!” the crowd answered.

The woman laughed and shouted, “May I be fertile!”

Raising the dagger, the priest shouted again to those watching. “Or her blood will nourish the soil!”

“Her blood . . . life to our soil!” the people yelled.

“My blood for the soil!” she laughed out, falling to the ground now.

A fertility ritual? Here at the stones?

Ran turned looking around at the area. The crowd waited and watched as the woman was brought once more to the center where the man's dead body now lay on a pile of wooden branches dipped in tar. The old priest gave her a burning torch and she lit the pyre aflame, watching as the fire consumed the man whose seed yet ran down her legs and mixed with his blood.

Stumbling back, Ran noticed people she had not seen before. As the old priest took a place before one of the stones, these four men and three women did so, too. Dressed in costly garments and gemstones and crowns, they glowed, each surrounded by a bright color—turquoise, silver, molten orange, red, green, blue and yellow gold. The woman clothed in a gown that flowed like the sea met Ran's gaze and smiled at her before turning back to the others. The priest glowed like moonlight as he spoke more words to the people. The seven touched the stones and became them, growing taller and leaning to meet over the sacrifice.

And then everything was gone and she stood holding on to the stone.

The gods? Had she just seen the gods?

Three women and four men. The woman in turquoise? Was that the goddess who ruled the sea? Her own ancestor?

A fertility ritual and a sacrifice to please them? In their honor? Here on the field of Stenness?

When?

Ran staggered into the circle and began to fall. She heard Soren screaming her name as she landed in the center, in the same place they had just burned their sacrifice to the gods.

•   •   •

Soren scooped her up and carried her out of the circle. She did not respond at all, no sounds, no movements. He laid her on the ground as the priests came running.

“Ran!” he called, rubbing her hands and tapping her cheeks. “Ran, wake up,” he said.

She'd walked to the stone opposite of where he was and laid her hands on it. Her body had jerked and jerked, and then she pulled away and stumbled to the center, where she fell.

When she did not wake after several minutes, Soren decided to take her to the priests in the camp. Mayhap Aislinn knew what was wrong? Lifting her gently and leaning her head against his chest, he asked the winds to take them. Ran did not rouse even as they approached the encampment.

Soren remembered her words about the sea and knew that he must give her to the sea. To revive her. To protect her. Going north past the shoreline, he dipped down until he could glide within inches of the surface of the water. Carefully, so carefully, he stopped and let her slip into the sea under him.

He watched as her body disappeared into the water. Her human form dissipated within seconds of his placing her there. Soren floated above, watching and waiting for any sign of her.

“Come back to me, Ran,” he whispered, the winds carrying his voice into the water. He stayed above the sea, watching and waiting for her. The sea was her refuge, it had saved her before.

What had happened? What had she seen or touched?

He and the priests were in and out of the circle, touching all of the stones and searching for clues, and nothing happened to them. But Ran reacted to something there, just as she had the first time. Was she somehow connected to those places?

Soon, a whirlpool formed beneath him. It spun the water around and around until a huge wave rose. As though it could see his form, the wave rolled toward him and then crashed into him. He laughed and threw the winds at her, creating thousands of water droplets that rained down on the sea. Ran rose in her human form and waited for him to carry her.

“I think I saw the beginning,” she said. “I think I know where the circle is.”

“A vision?” he asked, turning toward the coast and the encampment.

“When I touched the stone, I saw it. I saw them.”

“Them?”

“The gods. The seven Old Ones. They lived here. They existed with the humans who worshipped them, Soren.”

Excitement filled her voice, which was not what he expected to hear.

“You scared me. I saw you convulse and then collapse in the circle,” he said, leaning his head against hers. “Do not do that again.” It was a mixture of a command and a plea.

“Take me to the broch,” she said. “I want to show you first.”

They reached the broch and entered the chamber. The priests had finished copying the drawings and were gathering up their supplies to return to the camp. He took them back and returned to Ran.

She walked around the perimeter of the broch's lower chamber, reaching out but not touching the drawings. Then she stood in the center and faced one side. Faced the southwest.

“When I was there, when the stones were first sanctified, the land and water were very different from now,” she explained. “The water was much lower and more land, here”—she pointed—“and here was above the water.”

“And you think the circle we are looking for is . . .”

Could it be? Had they been standing right on top of it, or been part of it already?

“Under the water?” he asked. She smiled again and nodded, walking closer to the wall but still not touching it.

“Here, I think. See how the land curves right there in his drawings? When I was there, it was in the distance, a huge circle that sat between Brodgar and the land that projects into the lake from the west.”

He was astounded. Even the map hinted at its presence. Einar had known.

“So, how do we get to it?” He turned to her. “If it's under the water, how do we perform the ritual they said we must do to close the gateway?”

“I am not certain. I hope that the priests can tell us that when we show them this,” she said. “I do not think the water of the lake there will heed my call.”

“But you control all water, Ran,” he said. “Why would it not obey you?”

“I think I heard the evil goddess that first time. I think she is there, beneath whatever this gate is, waiting for it to be opened. So when I touched the water, it was her voice speaking to me.”

“But her man must be able to open the gate to free her. So how will he get to it if it's under the water?”

“I think the others may know,” she said. “We should talk to them now.”

He followed her to the stairway and was surprised when she stopped and turned to him. It put her face level with his own.

“My thanks for saving me,” she said, touching his mouth in a quick, fierce kiss. She rested her arms on his shoulders and touched her forehead to his. “I could feel your strength around me, Soren. I knew you were there.”

He slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close, kissing her mouth and tasting her deeply. She tasted salty like the sea. She leaned against him and ran her fingers through his hair. Cupping his head in her hands, she tilted her face and offered herself to him. He took it, sucking in her lower lip and grazing it between his teeth. She leaned her head back and he pressed his mouth on the tender skin of her neck, nipping up to the edge of her ear and biting it.

She arched against him, her breasts pressing into his chest and her hips grinding on his. Soren reached down and gathered the length of her skirt in his hand, teasing the curls he found with the back of it while holding her in place. With the other hand, he stroked between her legs, moving his hand over the soft skin of her inner thighs and then up in between. She gasped but did not move away.