Aislinn walked around the perimeter of the chamber, not touching the drawings and marks, but simply gliding her hand in the air near them.
“There is power here. Power and . . . magic,” she said, awe filling her voice. “Someone very powerful did this.”
“Einar Brandrson, Soren’s grandfather,” Ran said.
“It would have to be a priest of immense ability, Ran. These are not simply drawn or sketched. They are imbued in each stroke with blessings and spells. Very few of us could create such a thing. I doubt Marcus even,” Aislinn said.
“You doubt I could what?” Marcus asked, coming down the steps with Soren behind him.
Neither of the women said a word, they waited only for Marcus to see the chamber. His first expression was of surprise, but then the older man’s eyes rolled up into his head and he pitched forward. Soren managed to grab his cloak and keep him from hitting the dirt floor. Unlike when Father Ander fainted, Marcus did not fall to the ground.
He began chanting and walking around the chamber, stopping, Ran noticed, at each of the eight marks. His words blended together and became like a song, the tune of which Soren began humming under his breath. When she glanced at him, he shrugged.
“My grandfather taught me words and songs,” he said. “I know not what they mean. I never have.”
The three watched Marcus for several minutes until he slowed and then stopped completely. Aislinn walked to his side.
“Marcus, are you well?” she asked.
Marcus blinked over and over and then wiped his forehead and shook his head. “What happened?” Then he looked at Aislinn. “Do you feel it, Aislinn? It is wondrous, truly wondrous.”
“What is it, Marcus? A map certainly, but what made you do that?” Soren asked, motioning with his hand in a circular pattern.
“These are the signs of each of the Warriors of the Stone Circles, you know those,” Marcus explained. “But these words are the blessing the gods needed to seal the gateway. And these, these”—he pointed at words scattered all around the chamber—“these are the words the ancients used to capture the evil one.”
“Chaela?” Ran asked.
Marcus spit on the floor and whispered something like a curse before saying anything to her. “I will not speak her name. To use the names of the gods gives them power but to say hers is to call her attention. We never want her aware of us.” He pointed at the marks around the chamber.
“See there. Every time a name is written it gives power to the symbol. But see those? The priest destroyed her name to avoid saying it.”
“And you can read these words? Understand them?” Ran asked.
“Only when the gods allow me to,” Marcus said. “But now? Nay. Not a one. But the priest who created this would have.”
“Why do you keep saying that Einar was a priest? If I am a stormblood, would he not have been one, too?” Soren asked.
“In days long ago, when the bloodlines were created, each was kept separate from the others. To keep them pure and keep their power undiluted. But when the gods sent the bloodlines out into the human world, they did not remain separate.”
Marcus looked at her and Soren. “Your families intermarried, here and in other communities until their powers mixed. Only in some generations are there purebloods strong enough to call on their powers.”
“Like this generation?” Soren asked.
“The gods are good to those who believe, Soren. We priests have long believed that when needed, the Warriors of the Stone Circles are created to battle this evil who can be contained but not destroyed.”
“And old Einar?” she asked.
“He was a generation ahead of the rising,” Marcus explained. “He collected much wisdom and heard the call of the gods, but did not teach you as he should have, Soren.” Turning to face her, he added, “Or you, Ran. Great priests such as Einar are sent to teach.”
“What do we do now, Marcus?” Aislinn asked. “So much of our history is told through stories and not written down.”
“I think we should copy all of this so we can study it. The time is coming and we need to find the gateway. These drawings”—he motioned around the walls— “are clues and signposts for us. They are an immense source of knowledge not to be ignored.”
They left the chamber and snuffed out the torch. With care, Soren replaced the wooden slats covering the secret steps. If someone happened along and entered the broch, they would not find the chamber easily.
Outside, Soren and Marcus decided which priests would be needed and Soren brought them using his stormblood powers. It took several trips, and on each one he brought a nervous priest, writing supplies and torches. Soon, everyone who needed to be brought or taken was seen to and only Soren and Ran remained.
“They know,” Ran whispered to Soren.
