“Come,” he said to Ran. “I think he has Ander under his control,” he warned.
“What will we do?” she asked. “What song will you teach him now?”
One to open, one to close,his grandfather had taught him. But there had been that third one, one his aunt said called down the protection of the gods against evil. He told Ran of the three as they walked to the altar stone at the northern edge of the center where Ander stood.
With each step toward the circle, a noise began at its center and spread outward. Almost a chiming of bells but something different. When they entered together, a wall of light surrounded the structure, cutting them off to everyone outside. Though he could see through it, the only thing he could hear was that sound.
And then a second terrible noise joined the first.
Like the scream of a wild, wounded creature this one rose into the air. As they watched, the stone floor disappeared and they could see into the void.
Streams of fire collided with the barrier and they could feel the heat of them. Then sharp talons, like an eagle’s, scratched at the barrier, trying to break it open. “Ignore that!” Soren yelled, pulling Ran to the altar.
“Is that Chaela?” she asked. “What is she?”
“Something unimaginable,” Ander said. “Evil incarnate.”
“We must stop her, Ander,” Soren said, touching his friend’s arm. “We cannot let her rise to power once more.”
“Stop the evil,” Ander said.
“Ander? Can you do this? Can you help us close the circle?” Ran asked. Another scream emanated from the void at her question.
Soren began the third song then, humming the melody of the song to protect them from evil. He could see his grandfather in his mind, sitting next to him, singing the words. He let his voice grow stronger and stronger until it filled the entire ring. When he looked over at Ran, she nodded in encouragement, holding his hand. It was quite a shock when Ander joined in, singing what sounded like Latin to the same tune he sang the words of Old Einar’s song. Ander’s higher voice complemented Soren’s deeper one. The fact that the songs had the same tune could not be a coincidence. They finished the song and Ran nodded.
“I asked God to protect me from evil, now and at the hour of my death,” Ander whispered, wincing in pain as he spoke the last few words. Clutching his head, he shook and struggled against something inside.
“Must stop evil,” he screamed. He fell to the ground and rolled there.
Soren could not think of what to do. The ceremony had begun with that song, that prayer. To leave or try to leave now, even to help Ander, would destroy all of them and the circle. Though he and Ran were prepared to give their lives to end this, their deaths would not prevent Chaela from entering at one of the two other circles.
As Marcus had said, it would leave them without two of the bloodlines in the coming battles.
As Marcus said . . .
Soren looked around, looking outside to see if any of the priests were there. Through the blazing light, he could see none. Marcus would be here.
“Ander, did Marcus visit you? Have you seen Marcus?” He took hold and shook his friend, trying to get through the pain.
“The priest? Marcus?” Ander asked. “So many came. The bishop. The pope. The king,” Ander said, still clutching his head. “The priest came—I thought he was a soldier until he prayed me to sleep.”
Could it be possible?
Aislinn and Marcus had told him of the bond forged between the priests. It was a way to share thoughts and prayers amongst their community. Had Marcus tried to bond with Ander and been caught by Hugh?
“How did he pray you to sleep, Ander?” Soren knelt next to him. “Did he touch you?”
Ander screamed out again and then fainted, unable to fight it any longer. Soren had no idea if there was an allotted time to complete the ritual here. They could not leave now, he knew that, but must they complete it soon?
Twenty-Three
Ran reachedout to Ander much as she had to her father. She let go of the fear that threatened to overpower her and let her water go into him.
When she reached his mind, she stopped, overwhelmed by the cacophony of voices there. No wonder Ander was in pain. She sorted through the real and the imaginary ones, washing away those that harmed this man of God and leaving the truth. His memories of his friends, his belief in his God, his knowledge of right and wrong, truth and lies and good and evil . . .
And the prayers and memories and knowledge that Marcus left for him. Ran smiled at that. Marcus did not die in vain. His death was not an empty one. Pulling back from Ander, she looked over at Soren.
“Is that what you did for me on the beach?” he asked.
