dark room. Entering, he placed his torch in a wall bracket. The flames cast shadows around the small chamber. Water from a crack in the stone ceiling dripped on the floor in a slow monotonous rhythm. He was directly beneath Loch Ness.
He walked over to a rose-colored marble slab that covered the wall facing the entrance and read the words etched into the stone:
Time is an I ll usion
Of all the mysteries and legends that shrouded his people this was the one he had found the least plausible, until now. The Lady Amber had appeared in Loch Ness, and survived the numbing waters. She had not offered an explanation as to her origins.
He looked at a section of the panel where, centuries beyond counting, liquid gold had been poured into small holes in a random pattern. It covered a major portion of the marble. It was a map of the stars and planets, and recorded the year his people had been forced to leave their island home before the water reclaimed it. In the right-hand corner, below the points of gold that flickered in the light, a hole the size of a man’s fist had been cut into the marble. In the center was a gold bar. He turned the lever and a panel slid open to expose a hidden compartment. Lachlan brought the torch closer. The marble surface seemed to change from rose-pink to a deep blood red as he examined the small glass vials.
Shadows from the torch stretched out across the floor and deepened in the corners of the room. A chill crept along his spine. One of the vials was missing. He recounted, but came to the same conclusion. The Elixir of Life was used for only two purposes. Once the liquid was swallowed, the process of immortality and the state of suspended sterility were reversed. The second purpose was the ability to summon the Guardian in Loch Ness.
Both uses were forbidden without permission from the Council of Seven, yet it had been done. Someone had entered the chamber, and removed one of the vials. The first purpose he dismissed. His race held on tightly to their immortality. The second would explain Amber’s appearance. This was not the first time a missing vial had resulted in an unexpected visitor.
He wiped perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. The air was stale, damp and closing in on him. The Guardian of the Loch had the ability to bend the currents of time and pull someone from one century to another.
The steady drip of water in the corner of the chamber echoed through his mind. He closed his eyes, but the sound grew louder. He took one last look around before leaving the chamber. Soon the Council of Seven would gather and they would expect an explanation as to Amber’s origins. But he must have proof.
The torch he held cast shadows over the walls corridor. This underground labyrinth was neither silent nor asleep. Small red eyes peered out of the darkness at him. Their owners scurried out of his way. Marcail feared these creatures, not because of their appearance, but because of the disease they could bring. His cousin had witnessed the Black Death. Lachlan knew the memories of its destruction still held her prisoner. He would discuss the matter with Angus. Together they could, perhaps, rid the castle of these vermin.
As he entered a narrow corridor he heard a loud thud, a scuffle and then an oath. It was a woman’s voice. He headed in that direction, gripping the hilt of his blade. No doubt a servant who had lost her way. He would know the guilt or innocence by looking into her eyes. It would seal her fate.
The tunnels beneath the castle were forbidden to all but the members of his race. In his father’s time, the punishment for any attempt to discover the secrets contained behind these walls would be a slow death. The skeletal remains of those who defied his father still remained, as a warning to others.
At the end of the corridor, in the shadows cast by a flickering torch, stood a woman. The Lady Amber. She was brushing dirt from her gown and muttering under her breath
He walked over to a rose-colored marble slab that covered the wall facing the entrance and read the words etched into the stone:
Time is an I ll usion
Of all the mysteries and legends that shrouded his people this was the one he had found the least plausible, until now. The Lady Amber had appeared in Loch Ness, and survived the numbing waters. She had not offered an explanation as to her origins.
He looked at a section of the panel where, centuries beyond counting, liquid gold had been poured into small holes in a random pattern. It covered a major portion of the marble. It was a map of the stars and planets, and recorded the year his people had been forced to leave their island home before the water reclaimed it. In the right-hand corner, below the points of gold that flickered in the light, a hole the size of a man’s fist had been cut into the marble. In the center was a gold bar. He turned the lever and a panel slid open to expose a hidden compartment. Lachlan brought the torch closer. The marble surface seemed to change from rose-pink to a deep blood red as he examined the small glass vials.
Shadows from the torch stretched out across the floor and deepened in the corners of the room. A chill crept along his spine. One of the vials was missing. He recounted, but came to the same conclusion. The Elixir of Life was used for only two purposes. Once the liquid was swallowed, the process of immortality and the state of suspended sterility were reversed. The second purpose was the ability to summon the Guardian in Loch Ness.
Both uses were forbidden without permission from the Council of Seven, yet it had been done. Someone had entered the chamber, and removed one of the vials. The first purpose he dismissed. His race held on tightly to their immortality. The second would explain Amber’s appearance. This was not the first time a missing vial had resulted in an unexpected visitor.
He wiped perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand. The air was stale, damp and closing in on him. The Guardian of the Loch had the ability to bend the currents of time and pull someone from one century to another.
The steady drip of water in the corner of the chamber echoed through his mind. He closed his eyes, but the sound grew louder. He took one last look around before leaving the chamber. Soon the Council of Seven would gather and they would expect an explanation as to Amber’s origins. But he must have proof.
The torch he held cast shadows over the walls corridor. This underground labyrinth was neither silent nor asleep. Small red eyes peered out of the darkness at him. Their owners scurried out of his way. Marcail feared these creatures, not because of their appearance, but because of the disease they could bring. His cousin had witnessed the Black Death. Lachlan knew the memories of its destruction still held her prisoner. He would discuss the matter with Angus. Together they could, perhaps, rid the castle of these vermin.
As he entered a narrow corridor he heard a loud thud, a scuffle and then an oath. It was a woman’s voice. He headed in that direction, gripping the hilt of his blade. No doubt a servant who had lost her way. He would know the guilt or innocence by looking into her eyes. It would seal her fate.
The tunnels beneath the castle were forbidden to all but the members of his race. In his father’s time, the punishment for any attempt to discover the secrets contained behind these walls would be a slow death. The skeletal remains of those who defied his father still remained, as a warning to others.
At the end of the corridor, in the shadows cast by a flickering torch, stood a woman. The Lady Amber. She was brushing dirt from her gown and muttering under her breath
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