“My friends,” he said. “We must find out what this means.”
“Ander, wait. What happened?” Soren asked, pulling him to his feet. “You fell unconscious after touching that drawing.”
“I saw. . . . I dreamed. . . .” He shuddered again and made the sign of the Cross over himself, several times, before continuing. “Evil. Pure, uncontrolled evil is coming. We must stop it. We must,” he said. The vehemence in his words made her jump. “I saw everything burning. And I saw . . .” The priest seemed to lose himself in whatever he remembered for a few moments. “We must sort this out and find the way to stop her.”
“Her?” Ran asked.
“The name crossed out on the drawing is that of a female, a goddess of such evil that her name should not be written down or even be uttered aloud.” He blessed himself again and Ran wondered if he saw the irony of it.
“But Ran saw a man of power,” Soren said.
“Her unholy minion, that one. The one you saw. Her hand on earth, intent on freeing her,” he said it quickly, like words learned by rote.
“How do you know this, Ander?” Soren asked.
“I know not, my friend. I know only that I must use what I have to find a way to stop her, as you two must use your gifts, your powers.” The priest walked to the doorway, looking invigorated instead of the man who minutes ago had lain unconscious on the floor.
“Where are you going?” Ran asked, standing and walking to the doorway as he continued on his path.
“I am going back to the bishop’s library to seek out more about the evil one,” he stuttered out.
“Do you know her name,” Soren said. “Tell us.”
“Nay, but I will seek it out. You go on with your plan to seek out the places on Einar’s map.”
Father Ander stumbled down the steps and ran to his horse. Mounting it, he rode off toward Kirkwall, with the words of the prayer to the Lord’s Holy Mother—at the hour of our death—echoing out behind him.
Ran realized he had been listening for longer than she’d first thought. He’d heard all they’d said. And he’d never once remonstrated either of them for discussing such heretical things as ancient gods and goddesses and powerful bloodlines. Even knowing that such stories or books or drawings existed was sinful in the eyes of the Church.
If anyone had known what Einar created or knew and reported it to the bishop, Soren’s grandfather would have been in grave danger. Very grave. Indeed, his whole family would be suspect. And yet this priest seemed not bothered by it. He threw himself into whatever this endeavor was without hesitation and without question.
She felt Soren’s heat at her back before he spoke. Thinking on it, she knew where he was and even if he was looking at her. Her body had not forgotten his touch and wanted it even now in the midst of this new and dangerous situation. And she wanted his strength and his comfort. If she could have commanded her memory to forget what he had done, what he had cost her and what she’d promised herself, Ran would have faced him and walked back into his embrace.
And would never leave it.
That thought scared her. Two years of pain and humiliation and her heart could ignore it at the sight and nearness of him. Would she never learn?
When he stepped closer and placed his hand on the frame of the door, watching Father Ander riding away, she ducked low and passed under it, moving to the other side of the chamber.
“So, we meet at Ingeborg’s cottage in the morn then?” she asked. Ran retrieved the wooden box of letters and waited for a reply.
“Aye.” He said nothing else and watched as she left the tower. Only then did she remember how she’d traveled to the broch.
“Keep these safe for me? Tell Ingeborg to read them if she wishes.” Ran handed the box back to Soren. Heading to the beach, she heard him call out to her.
“Ran, we need to slow them down or they will reach the mainland before we have found a way to stop her,” he said. “I will slow the winds in their sails. You might calm the waters?”
Smiling at the way he made it sound commonplace, she nodded. “I will.”
“And have a care and stay a safe distance so he does not know you watch.”
How had he known she would seek out the man and watch over her father?
Because they knew each other well. They were two halves of one whole. Or they had been before he broke them in two. She nodded once more and made her way to the beach.
“On the morrow,” she said before diving into the sea, becoming water before she hit the surface and merging with the rest of it.
Ten
