Minutes turned into hours and I wished that we could simply envision that we were already there. But since Lucan still did not know who we really were, we could do no such thing. Instead, we rode our horses the traditional way and my backside was painfully aware of it. Piercing aches shot through my h*ps and with every jolt of the saddle, my lower back screamed.
As we traveled, I grew increasingly more appalled at the state of Camelot.
Everything was dead. There was nothing vibrant or alive for as far as I could see. The once waving grasses were brown and wilted, rocks jutted from the craggy earth and dead trees hunched over on the horizon. It was as though the life had been sucked from the earth.
Finally, just when I thought that my back could take no more jolting from the saddle, something emerged from the dead landscape and Hecate shot forward. I kicked Celine into a gallop, anxious to stand on my feet again and to see where Hecate had brought us.
I slid from my horse and stretched happily for a moment, working out the kinks in my spine. Lucan came up from behind and caught the reins dangling from my hand.
"I’ll take your horse, my lady," he offered. "You appear to be tired."
I nodded my thanks. "It has been a long time since I was in a saddle so long," I told him ruefully. "My back doesn’t agree with this trip, apparently."
He smiled and together, we walked over the ridge. As we reached the top of the small hill, I stopped in my tracks. I knew this place from history books, for certain, but I also felt a strong vague recognition. I must have been here before.
Magnificent stone slabs rose from the ground in two rings. The outer ring was tall, and each two Sarsen stones were connected by a cap stone on top, linking them together. The inner ring was made from shorter bluestones. The stones were heavy and unlike their crumbling appearance in history books, they were pristine and straight.
We were at Stonehenge.
Courtney Cole 98
With My Last Breath, Book Three
As we gazed upon it, a reverent hush overtook us. The place was magical, that much was certain. My bloodstone was practically buzzing against my breastbone and I felt the strongest urge to enter the rings. Strangely enough, even though everything else in the land was dead and brown, the grasses inside the ring were vibrant and alive, their green lushness reminding me of what Camelot was meant to be.
In the center, a wide, flat onyx stone was situated in the sun, glistening as the tiny flecks caught the light. It had been buffed and polished until it was perfectly smooth and I realized with a start that it was an altar. It had never been pictured in history books, because it simply wasn’t there anymore. But it was here now, rising proudly from the ground and my feet felt the urge to begin walking toward it.
"Do you feel that, Heleyne?" Hecate called as she moved to meet it. "Do you feel it?"
"Yes," I answered her and my voice carried across the open meadow, clear and loud. There was something here, something otherworldly that was rippling over me, skimming over my skin, causing my fingertips to tingle. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was powerful. That much was apparent.
As Hecate trailed her fingers along the black shiny stone, she muttered to herself.
"This place is important," she whispered. "But why?"
She stopped and laid her hands flat on the stone, closing her eyes as she tilted her face to the sun. Her blonde hair flew in the wind as she concentrated and I noticed with a start, that the wind actually picked up as she touched the stone. My skirts were whirling around my legs.
Lucan and I silently watched as Hecate moved her lips without making a sound.
Her shoulders threw back, chest thrust out and her feet were rigid as she saw whatever visions that were being presented to her. The wind picked up into a howl, blowing the tall green grass at our feet into a churning circle. I subconsciously scooted closer to Lucan. It felt as though we were building toward something.
And then it stopped. The entire meadow grew eerily silent and Hecate opened her eyes. They were pitch black. I gasped as she turned slowly to face me. She opened her mouth to speak and her voice was not her own.
"Harmonia, daughter of Ares and Aphrodite?"
It was a man’s voice, gravelly and hoarse. Someone was speaking through the witch. My heart picked up a few paces and Lucan reached over to grasp my hand. His eyes were wide, his face a picture of utter shock.
I nodded. "Yes. I am Harmonia."
"You are the Chosen One?"
"Yes," I answered quietly, glancing at my birthmark. At this moment, it felt more like a curse as I waited to see what horror I would be facing now.
"We’ve been waiting for you," Hecate creaked. "Approach."
Courtney Cole 99
With My Last Breath, Book Three
She held out her hand, allowing it to linger midair, in a gesture of welcome. I took a tentative step, but Lucan pulled me back.
"My lady, I do not think you should," he worried. "We do not know what this is.
I’ve never seen such a thing."
"Neither have I," I admitted. "But I must do it. There is much you don’t understand, good knight. But you will in time."
I slipped my hand from his grasp, ignoring his anxious gaze and approached the altar. Hecate took my hand and assisted me onto it, pushing my shoulders until I lay down. Gazing upward, I stared at the gray sky and muted sun for a moment and then closed my eyes, waiting for something to happen.
Nothing.
I opened my eyes.
I was surrounded by ghosts. Hundreds of them were standing in ever-widening circles around us, dressed in clothing from many different ancient eras. Regardless of their differences, however, there was one thing they had in common. They were all warriors. Some were dressed in kilts, some were dressed in trousers, some wore armor, but they all held weapons.
The sky above us had turned black, blocking even the muted light from the sun. I knew I should be afraid, but I simply wasn’t. I was only expectant, waiting to find out why they were here and what part I played in this. They had been waiting for me for a long time.
I looked to Hecate and found her eyes closed, but as I watched, a ghost stepped from her body. The voice. It detached itself from her and moved to my side.
He wore a fierce expression and I could see that his hair was dark red and he wore a shaggy beard. His eyes were black as night and he had a jagged scar running from the corner of his eye down to his pale chin. He reached a ghostly hand out and laid the heel of his palm on my forehead. The cold weight of it pushed my head to the stone beneath me.