Relic Seeker: The Priestess Chronicles, #2

Triquetra-200.jpg Chapter 1

Will you tell me where we are going this time Raziel? Ariela spoke the words in her mind as the swirling debris rose from the ground of the village she was leaving behind. There was no reply, but she didn’t expect one. The Angel had already sent her into the future, with no knowledge, no expectation and most of all, no clear idea of what she needed to do.

So much had changed since she left the past behind. She now understood there would be no returning to her family; they were lost to her past and there seemed to be only the ability to move forward in time, not back.

She felt her body become weightless and held tightly to the warmth of Culaan and Genevieve’s hand. Her stomach lurched a little, but the feeling was fleeting as she took a deep breath and relaxed knowing now what to expect from the time shift. Leaves continued to brush her face, as sand grazed her cheeks. Ariela smiled knowing that her new friends would be joining her this time. Travelling through time, doing the Angel’s bidding, wouldn’t be as lonely anymore.

Now, she was courageous enough to open her eyes to the Holy realm she had only seen in visions the last time she passed the threshold of time. The golden light was brilliant and Ariela could see nothing clearly. Figures moved, unrecognisable in the brightness that surrounded her.  

She could still feel Genevieve and Culaan’s hands in hers, but they were nowhere in sight. The world around her was dazzling and shining like white gold and the sense of peace seeped into her soul. Her hair streamed out behind her like ribbons on the breeze and even though she knew she had no need to draw breath in this place, her chest rose and fell rhythmically.

Before she could fully absorb the scene before her, the light blurred into unrecognisable streaks of lightning and she closed her eyes to avoid the nausea rising up in her stomach.

As she waited to find where Raziel would take them, she reached out with her spirit for her friends, and fought a sense of panic as she realised she could no longer feel their hands in hers or sense their presence.

********

Culaan felt Ariela’s hand slip from his as the sensation of spinning abated. He opened his eyes with panicked urgency and looked around into the gloomy forest.

‘Did you hear what Morrigan said?’ Genevieve asked Culaan casually as she tried to focus on his face in the dim light of predawn grey that greeted them.

‘Where is Ariela?’ Culaan turned around more than once, his eyes squinting into the dim surroundings trying to make out where they were, where Ariela was.

Genevieve lifted her bow from her shoulder and the ethereal light sprang into a bright silvery glow. Culaan pulled his sword from its scabbard and it too lit the early morning dimness with mystical light. The two warriors circled defensively with their backs together.

‘She isn’t here Cul.’ Genevieve could sense her best friend’s panic through his body which shuddered with supressed fear and anger.

‘That damned Angel has taken her and left us behind.’ Culaan snarled the words and Genevieve felt her own anxiety rising.

‘No, we are not in the land of our clans Culaan. Look!’ Genevieve nodded to the flat plain that greeted them beyond the trees. ‘She must be here somewhere.’

Just as the pair of warriors relaxed, the sound of movement amongst the thick forest caused Genevieve to redraw her bow.

‘Don’t make any sudden moves.’ Culaan warned.

‘Since when have I needed your instruction in battle!’

Culaan looked over his shoulder and caught sight of their foe. ‘We are surrounded. What was that damned Angel thinking?’ He moved his sword between himself and the closest warrior. It seemed to buzz and sizzle with his frustration.

Genevieve released an arrow that flew through the air, pinning the collar of the closest warrior’s fur-lined coat to the tree branch just behind his left ear. ‘The next one goes between your eyes.’ The arrow sparkled with light but didn’t ignite the coat or the branch. ‘I’m getting the hang of this.’ The Huntress congratulated herself.

‘And that wasn’t a sudden movement now was it!’ Culaan growled as he rolled his sword around his wrist, the lightning like effect leaving streaks in the pre-dawn light.

‘It be the son of Oden Atta.’ A young man’s voice rang out as the first rays of sun crested the distant mountains.

‘Don’t you be going any closer Blaze.’ A broad-shouldered man moved forward, pushing the boy behind him protectively.

‘Look at him Atta. I’m sure it’s him. Look at that sword!’ The boy peered around the warrior to get a better look as he bounced from foot to foot with obvious excitement.

‘Is the boy right? Are you sent from the gods?’

Culaan looked at Genevieve and smiled. The Huntress returned the grin mischievously and shrugged.

‘Technically, yes.’ Culaan answered carefully, wiping the grin from his face as he cautiously sheathed his sword, the light disappearing instantly.

‘What happens in the after-life for those who impersonate gods?’ Genevieve whispered. Culaan frowned appearing to suddenly reconsider the wisdom of his deceit.

‘See Atta. I told you he’s Thor. Just look at him and she must be Skathi.’

‘Take a breath Blaze. We’ll see. Skathi or not, will you lower that bow woman?’

Genevieve released the notched arrow from the bow-string and the weapon immediately lost a little of its potency as the mystical light extinguished. The Huntress returned the arrow to the quiver on her back and shouldered her weapon. Her left hand remained close to the short-bladed sword strapped to her thigh and the newcomer allowed his eyes to wander down her long curvaceous leg. He smiled as he saw her thumb the hilt of her weapon and returned his gaze to her eyes.

‘My name is Reznor. This is my lad Blaze. He seems to think you two might be the answer to his prayers.’ The big man moved forward in greeting, his shoulders unnaturally wide with the thick fur coat he wore, but there was something about his manner that held unspoken power.

‘Why have you been praying little man?’ Genevieve missed the boy’s scowl as she watched Reznor, admiring his strong stature. The rising sun sparkled in his ice-blue eyes and when he grinned, she returned the gesture in spite of herself.

‘We have the worst kind of enemy at our door. The kind that undermines our culture and faith, but we can’t vanquish them in any traditional fight. They are too powerful for that.’ Reznor addressed the question.

‘An old and common story. We have come from just such a battle.’ Culaan moved between Reznor and Genevieve breaking their eye contact. ‘What makes your cause noble enough to warrant help from the gods?’

‘Not noble. We only seek freedom from the yoke of others.’

‘It’s the nature of strong men to rule. Who is this master you seek freedom from?’

‘The Roman Empire of course!’ Reznor frowned his confusion. Shouldn’t gods who have come to aid them know who their enemies are?

The mere mention of the Romans raised Culaan’s heckles and he growled his response. ‘Now that is a vermin worth calling on the divine for. When do we start?’

Triquetra-200.jpg Chapter 2

‘How in Heaven’s name do you manage to dress me in the middle of a time shift?’ Ariela knew Raziel was not about to answer her questions, but she felt an overwhelming need to vent her frustration. Culaan and Genevieve were nowhere in sight and she was dressed in a short tunic worn by slaves. Gone was the clothing she wore when she left Morrigan behind.

The steam rose from her lips as she breathed and the early morning chill was seeping into her bones. Her toes were growing numb in the damp dew-covered grass. She would have done almost anything to have her hooded robe right now.

‘There you are. Hurry up child. You are late enough already.’ A heavy-set woman with a long, thick plait and wide hips grabbed Ariela by the arm and pulled her roughly down a stone path and into an alleyway. Ariela knew better than to protest. The woman was dressed in a fine robe of linen drawn at the waist by a silver and turquoise sash and spoke with obvious authority.

The Priestess waited, knowing that it would take time to understand where she was and what the Angel wanted her to do. Last time was no different. At least this time she didn’t wake up in a dark, damp alley and immediately get attacked by a soldier. At least this time she hadn’t had to kill anyone, not yet anyway.

‘The Master will expect you to be more punctual in the future. You can cook?’ The woman blurted out instructions, looking back at Ariela for confirmation as she rushed them through a low stone doorway and into a hot cookhouse barely ten paces wide.

‘Cook?’ Ariela stumbled over the rough stone floor. She couldn’t remember ever having been required to cook in her life. Even as a Priestess her duties had never included cooking duty. She was the daughter of a High Priestess after all and spent most of her time training with her father in the use of weapons, not cooking knives.

‘Oh never mind. You will learn.’ The woman impatiently pushed Ariela ahead of her, past the hearth and into an open storeroom full of produce. ‘There is a sack of potatoes over there.’ The woman pointed, the folds of skin hanging loosely below her sleeveless robe. ‘The others will be here any minute. You can get started peeling and cutting potatoes while I go and see to the Master of the house.’

Ariela stared at the hessian bag at her feet as the woman hurried away. Where on earth was she? More to the point, in what time was she and who was that woman? She considered the architecture that surrounded the alleyway she had been dragged through and the ornate stone archway that marked the entrance to the cookhouse. None of it looked familiar. The stonework was almost translucent white and carved with intricate patterns. Even the flagstones on the floor were made of foreign material.

The young Priestess sighed, pushing her concerns aside. At least the cookhouse wasn’t cold. How they were going to fit more people in such a small space confused her, but she had other things to worry about. Where were Culaan and Genevieve? She felt lost, even more so than she did the last time Raziel landed her in a foreign land.

‘Who are you?’ A young woman with dark brown eyes and plump cheeks stood frowning suspiciously at Ariela as she moved out of the storeroom with an arm full of potatoes. The Priestess juggled them unsuccessfully in surprise.

‘I, I’m new. My name is Ariela,’ she said as she bent down to collect her lost cargo.

‘Oh!’ The girl knelt to help. ‘Ariela? You’re not from around here then!’ The girl eyed the Priestess curiously.

‘How can you tell?’ Ariela wiped the sweat from her palms, suddenly feeling nervous. She knew Raziel would have made her able to speak and understand the local language, but what could have raised the girl’s suspicions?

‘Your name is pretty foreign.’ The girl smiled spontaneously, her rounded cheeks framed in welcoming dimples. ‘Are you really supposed to be here?’

Ariela could only nod. ‘Well before the Mistress returns, you had better reconsider your name.’ Ariela’s eyes grew wider. Was this girl about to expose her? ‘Try Alexandria. It’s more believable.’

The girl smiled again and turned her back on Ariela, taking a handful of potatoes with her. She placed them on the wooden table in the centre of the cookhouse and turned to looked over her shoulder. ‘Well, you had best get started before the Mistress returns,’ and she began effortlessly peeling the potatoes with a small knife; peel and blade flashing faster than the Priestess could focus.

Ariela fumbled with her bundle and joined the girl, her mind racing with questions. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried unsuccessfully to put words into sentences.

Finally, she gave up and joined her new-found ally in preparing the food.

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Ariela’s hands were red and covered in small cuts by the time the preparation was done. The Priestess looked at her palms and shook her head. She had trained for years with sword and bow. She had calloused strong fingers, lean muscles