Title: Concourse
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World
Date: 7/2002
Part: 5 - The Circle Be Unbroken
Rating: R
Codes: M/R, N/V
Category: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi
Summary: Starts where HoTS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox
alert, and hey, I even like Finn.
Spoilers: OoT, Prophesy, The Secret, Trapped, HotS
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4
Posting: ff.net, tlwfix.com, others please let me know first.
A/N: Thanks again for the nice feedback. It's music to the eyes of fanfic writers to see email about their stories...
A/N2: I have again taken such liberties with history and cultures that you must indulge my whims to alter things to suit my story. In many Asian and Druidic/Celtic religions, circles are considered sacred. Be assured that nothing in my story attempts to truly explain, deny, or support any religious point of view. Please just use my semi-accurate ramblings as a base of fancy to jump into the storyline.
***
She is a theme of honor and renown,
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds,
Whose present courage may beat down our foes,
And fame in time to come canonize us.
William Shakespeare (1564–1616)
"When I'm good, I'm very, very good. But, when I'm bad, I'm better."
Mae West (1892-1980)
***
It was hard to be at your best while being totally terrorized, Marguerite thought frantically. The altar that had previously been put to such wonderful use was now to be the site of her death. It wasn't fitting, she thought with bitterness, the memory of one of her greatest joys being sullied by these idiots in tasteless robes. Oh, God, Roxton, where are you?
Warbek held the ritual dagger high above his head, his elation growing almost beyond his capacity to control it. He *would* triumph; finally, his circle would be complete, the way that he wanted it completed. He began the chant to purify the coming sacrifice.
"Spirits of nature, of the trees and rocks, of the animals and Earth, show me your favor and your companionship, share with me the bond of spirit and of life on Earth. Grant me the power to purify this profane offering. Consecrate this misbegotten being so she may be offered up to you in the place of that which she has so recklessly conjured."
Warbek passed the dagger from side to side in arcs over Marguerite's body. Moving around the altar in a slow and deliberate fashion, he began chanting the same phrases over and over again, "To Taranis we give the knife, to Teutates we give the water, to Esus we give the shroud." His chanting became mumbling, the look in his eyes crazed and positively evil. The other robed and hooded figures were silent in their circle around the altar.
Marguerite was thinking rapidly while the Druid was performing the ritual. Somehow, the words that he was speaking seemed very familiar to her, and she felt that she should know their significance, but that the knowledge was somehow just outside the reaches of her conscious mind. She wanted to panic, to scream for Roxton again, but knew that it would be futile. Wherever John was, she knew that he would be trying to get to her as soon as possible. It was quite probable he still had those Spaniards to deal with, and it looked like she had been shifted to another time.
Time. There was something about time that was bothering her, too. She looked, really looked, at the man chanting over her, waving the knife. He had a hard face and eyes that were flat and malevolent, marked by an unholy glee that told her that he was enjoying the thought of her death way too much for a man who said that he was just trying to prevent her from destroying all of them. That was it, she decided. This guy wanted something, and in her book, if there wasn't something physically valuable on the line, the only thing worth going to all this trouble for was power. Somehow, by killing her, locking her in this chamber without a way for her soul to escape, he would be securing
power for himself.
Forcing herself to be calm, she began to center herself. Roxton, in what he'd called 'evening the score of secrets', had shared some of his experiences from his time at the Jokhang temple in Tibet. One of the things he had shared was meditation, relaxing and letting her self return to harmony. At first, she'd wanted to mock it, strangely afraid. But, she didn't say anything until he'd finished explaining it to her. She'd then only asked, "What do I say?" He'd looked at her, a small smile on his face; happy that she'd accepted this part of himself he'd offered to her. He'd then replied, "You say what you feel, Marguerite. No one can tell you how to feel, can they? You don't have to *say*
anything at all, if you don't want to. It's your circle, your choice." She'd smiled back at him at that. He knew how much she needed to be in control, and he'd just handed over control of herself to herself with nary a fuss. It had taken her a while to actually do it, but she'd begun practicing the meditation each day upon rising, before she went to greet the day and her companions. In the short time she'd been doing it, it had worked immeasurably in easing some of her stress and irritation, but had not reduced her need for coffee in the morning.
She felt a calmness wrap around her like a gentle blanket, and with it came a newfound strength that infused her being. She realized that everything that had happened to her since she had come to the Plateau had prepared her for this. All the struggles, tears, losses, triumphs, knowledge gained, and the rebirth of her heart and soul were connected. She knew now that Roxton's opening the vent to this chamber had let out a part of her that had always been missing before. She'd felt its lack, but now she was whole again.
She also realized that there was more - this was just the beginning. This crazed man was trying to end her circle, to not allow it to complete itself. He was trying to alter her path, change the outcome. Challenger was always going on about how you could change the future, and that Gypsy, Isadore, had told her that you could change your destiny if you were strong enough. Roxton was forever telling her that she was the most powerful woman he'd ever had the privilege to have known, and he was certain that she could do anything if she so chose to do so. Marguerite knew that John believed in her as well as loved her, and remembering that was the last impetus that she required. Roxton had told her that she needed to have faith in herself and that it would unlock the last of her fears holding her back. She damn well hoped he was right about the extent of her personal power, because she was about to field test that theory.
***
Roxton and Malone became aware of their surroundings gradually. It was the humidity and the smell that they recognized; they were in the jungle, and it seemed to be the Plateau. The scream of a raptor on the hunt clinched the deal.
"We're back on the Plateau," Malone observed as they both crouched low and scanned for the location of the dinosaur. Each of them automatically reached for weapons that weren't there; both made silent curses as they realized their lack almost simultaneously.
"Very observant of you, Neddie-boy," Roxton replied sardonically. "I see you've not lost your charming habit of re-stating the obvious."
"It's one of my more endearing qualities," Malone agreed nodding. "Behind that stand of trees, you think?" he gestured to the left and down the hillside.
"Yes," Roxton agreed. "It sounds like it's made a kill. I vote we move in that direction for a bit," he gestured in the opposite direction of the raptor, "and go like hell."
"I agree," Malone matched his actions to Roxton's words, and the two men made their way as rapidly and as silently as possible away from the raptor.
"Which way to find Marguerite?" Ned asked when they'd put enough distance between them and the raptor to talk.
Roxton looked around and noted that they were on the way to the Inland Sea. He'd know this path anywhere. It led to the cave that Marguerite and he had been trapped in. The cave that had changed his life. For a place that had almost killed him, he was very nostalgic about it. He had a suspicion that the discoveries they'd made it in that cave had something to do with what was happening.
"I think I know where we can find Marguerite," Roxton finally said. He looked at Malone, "Do you remember anything about some Druids on the Plateau?" His tone was casual, but his expression thoughtful as they continued to walk as quickly as they could.
"You know, I thought it was weird, but I've been having these dreams lately," Ned replied with wonder. "They've all been about Druids here on the Plateau. Marguerite, you, and I find them and they were going to kill her..."
"Until they found her birthmark," Roxton finished for him.
"Yeah," Malone replied, slightly puzzled. "How did you know that?" he asked.
"Because I've had the same dreams, Marguerite, too," Roxton answered. "Only, I don't think they're dreams," he continued grimly. "I think they're memories."
"Memories that we've forgotten and are just now remembering," Malone said hollowly. He'd had just a little too much of that in his life lately.
"Or been made to forget," Roxton suggested as they picked up the pace even more. They felt an urgency that exceeded their previous worries.
Malone looked sharply at Roxton at this last, "Do you remember that guy? He talked mostly to Marguerite," Ned asked suddenly.
"Yes," Roxton nodded. "He told her she was the reincarnation of some priestess."
"Named Morrigan," Malone added as he remembered.
"Come on. We've got to go to her, now," Roxton moved suddenly.
"Where?" Malone panted as he chased after the rapidly moving older man.
"The cave," Roxton snarled. At Malone's questioning look, he continued, "Marguerite and I found this cave a couple of weeks ago. It was sealed up with a door that had Celtic runes on it."
"That a bit of a coincidence," Ned observed as they made their way up a steep hill, sweat pouring from their bodies.
"No coincidence," Roxton shook his head. "We got the door open by accident, and what we found inside was amazing. The whole place was a tomb. We found a body of a woman wrapped in a shroud, sealed in this small cave. The thing is, she had the same birthmark as Marguerite."
"The spirals," Malone observed thoughtfully. "This whole spiral thing is amazing."
"Circles turned upon themselves," Roxton responded.
"Yes," Malone looked at Roxton. "You understand."
"A circle is life," Roxton said simply. "Spirals are circles within circles. Great power," he added, his breathe short with effort.
"Marguerite has the mark of spirals on her," Malone confirmed.
"Yes, the body we found had the exact same marks. At the time, we thought that she might be an ancestor of Marguerite's, but I'm beginning to think it was her," Roxton explained.
"The two of you found her body, while she was still alive?" Ned was totally confused, but the sensation was beginning to be very familiar.
"Hundreds of years after she died," Roxton replied grimly. "It seems crazy, but we both saw her. They sealed her tomb so her spirit couldn't escape. They wanted to trap her there for all time," he added angrily.
"Then, you think that's what's happening now?" Malone asked.
"Each of us has been taken to a time of great importance in our lives, right?" he asked the younger man.
"Yes," Ned responded. "Each of us has been brought to a critical time in our lives, a time when we have made decisions that affect our beings, the way we respond to the rest of our lives."
"This must be the most critical time for Marguerite," Roxton said with certainty. "It will decide whether she lives or dies, whether she accepts who she is, and whether her spirit will remain free and with her self."
"We'd better hurry, then," Ned said moving even faster.
"My thoughts exactly," Roxton replied and they ran down the path to the cave.
***
"You can't kill me," Marguerite said in a calmer voice than she felt. "You know I can come back, no matter what you do. I'm here, and you killed me before. It's useless."
Warbek froze at her words, interrupted in mid-chant. He stared at her for a few seconds, and then said shaking his head, "It cannot be. I have read the runes. I will have your power; my circle will finally be complete. You will be nothing, and I will rule the Druids for all time."
"All time just got a whole lot shorter than you think," she taunted, but inwardly her stomach lurched as the faceless, silent minions grabbed her and began dragging her down the steep incline to the pool of water. She didn't know how she knew, but she *knew* what they were going to do to her. They would drown her, while at the same time this lunatic would stab her, and later they would wrap her in the shroud, marked with her birthmark, sealing her body and soul. The triple death, trading her life for the cessation of the storm. The gods would be appeased and the balance kept.
"You have power here no more, Morrigan," Warbek said with arrogance, but a tinge of fear tainted his voice, and she could see his eyes held trepidation.
"You name me," she called out, her head held high as she was pulled into the water. "You know the power of a name, don't you?"
"Then, what's mine?" Warbek shot back, more afraid than he wanted to admit to himself, and gestured to his minions to hold her still.
Marguerite searched her memories and came up with a face that matched the one standing before her on the edge of the water. She had last seen him wearing the uniform of the German army. His name had been Oberst Wilhelm Stoehr, and he'd been responsible for a lot of pain, for her and thousands of others. He'd been greedy, conniving, rapacious, and totally power mad. Apparently, he ran true to form whatever time he was in. She closed her eyes and let the waves of energy that she was feeling flow through instead of around her. So much was happening; the climax of events was coming soon. And there it was - his face again. This time, he was wearing the drab
robes favored by so many of the Druid priests.
She opened her eyes and mocked with a false smile, "Still looking for the easy way out, aren't you, Warbek?" At the indrawn hiss of his breath, her smile widened, "You never believed nor cared. You wanted it easy - no taxes, no work, always being catered to." The minions, stunned by these revelations loosened their hold on Marguerite. She shook herself free of the hands that held her, walking slowly through the icy water to the edge where Warbek stood. She held up her right hand, pointed her index finger at him, and declared in ringing tones, "You are a liar and a fraud, Warbek of the Averni! Weak and spineless, you hold no power over that which is mine." With this last she ascended out of the water and stood on the ledge next to the Druid.
"You power was lacking in the Great Battle," Warbek accused. "You were defeated and all was lost. They wandered for centuries, waiting for your return. Bochra was a fool, but I am not. I wait for no one, especially a woman who will not yield her place to her betters." His tone change to taunting, "Tiarnan watched and wept as you died. You would not heed him, and all of them paid the price. He took the blame for your death, and was never the same after that. He just disappeared one day, never to return."
"Some paid more dearly than others, Warbek," Marguerite said coldly, looking steadily at him. "Some paid the price of trusting where no trust should have been placed. That was my weakness, my flaw. Tiarnan was steadfast to the end and bore no fault. The faults were mine alone. I took the emeralds and hid them where you couldn't find them, didn't I? You never could divine anything of importance, and now you think you can read the runes? You are small and weak, like all whose grasp exceeds their reach are."
"Not so weak as to not know how to harm you where it would hurt you the most," Warbek shouted and motioned to the water. A mist arose, and then a clearing shaped in a perfect circle appeared in the midst of it. Within the clearing there appeared images of Roxton and Malone as they made their way to the cave. "Behold, your beloved Tiarnan! I wonder how he will take being left for power again this time?" taunted Warbek. "Shall I just kill him now," he added, raising an arm, "or wait the few minutes until he and his companion arrive?"
"Stop, or I'll make you regret very existence," Marguerite snarled savagely. "Damn you, my choice was forced on my by you, and I have
lived to regret it ever after," she said hoarsely. "But, I'm done regretting. I'm not living in the past or for the past any more. I make my own destiny and I *will not* allow you to harm him or anyone I care about," her voice rose as she spoke, ending on a shout and she took several steps toward Warbek and stopped directly in front of him. Stray sparks of electricity lit the air as she moved and her eyes had taken on a green glowing reminiscent of the emeralds she had once hid then replaced in the keystone of their altar. The vision in the mist disappeared suddenly.
"You've remembered," Warbek was horrified and began backing up.
Marguerite said in a calm, steely voice, "Roxton released the other half of my soul. No matter what you do, you can't stop me. I am here. I am whole, and I *remember*. And, you will soon wish to forget!" She followed the cringing man up the stone path, moving deliberately, as a cat might stalk a mouse.
Warbek practically ran to the altar, and then turned around, putting his hands on the edge to keep him from collapsing in ignoble fear. How had Tiarnan freed her? This Plateau, with all of its intersecting planes of power, how had he come to be here, and how had he found her within it? "I have foretold it," he babbled, his eyes crazed. "Your power will be mine. The storm that approaches will be controlled by me."
Marguerite stopped several paces away from Warbek and the altar and lifted her arms, palms upward, and slowly described a circle until her hands met over her head. She then moved her hands down together, as if holding a ball in her hands, to her chest level. Within her hands a glow of light began to shine. The intensity of the light grew in power as she murmured a pattern of words unknown to Warbek.
"Great goddess, you have freed me from the icy prison of water. This is the beginning. Life renews itself by Your magic, Earth Goddess. I walk the earth in friendship, not in dominance. Mother Goddess and Father God, instill within me through my love a warmth for all living things. Teach me to revere the Earth and all its treasures. May I never forget that love is all."
Warbek cried, "You cannot stop the storm your power conjured, Morrigan! You will be the cause of the destruction of all if you chose to keep your power this time! You cannot stop it, nor can you divert it, for Bochra is not here to help you, you bitch!" The Druid's voice took on a high pitch screeching quality that left no doubt as to the lack of his sanity.
Marguerite looked up finally at Warbek. Her face was coldly magnificent, and power radiated throughout her being. She was about to speak, when she noticed movement in the cave behind the altar. Roxton and Malone appeared at that moment. Warbek, with the instincts of a rat on a sinking ship, screamed for his minions to attack them and scuttled to escape. Marguerite noted that both Roxton and Malone seemed to be doing fine, so she concentrated on Warbek.
Roxton saw Marguerite acknowledge his presence, but she seemed to be preoccupied with that one individual. Well, Malone and he could take care of these creatures. The two men waded into the ensuing fistfight with such fervor that the Druid minions were dispatched in short order.
"Where's Marguerite?" Malone panted as they took stock of the bodies littering the floor of the cave.
"I saw her heading over toward the rock chimney," Roxton replied as he moved rapidly in the direction he'd seen Marguerite and the other Druid go. He knew something important was happening and that he had to be there.
As the two men reached the rock chimney, they saw Marguerite and the Druid locked in battle. They didn't touch one another, but their hands were raised and pulsing waves of energy pummeled each other's bodies as they fought. Savage winds buffeted the other occupants of the cave, but they didn't seem to touch the two combatants.
"Yield!" commanded Marguerite. "You cannot hope to win."
"I may not win, but you will surely lose," taunted Warbek. "You cannot control me and the approaching storm, and you will chose to try to control the storm, for you will never willingly give up your power. I will escape to fight another day. It is who you are."
"It was who I was," Marguerite acknowledged. "But, it is not who I am now. For all that has come to pass between us, you have learned nothing about me." She looked over at where Roxton stood with Malone. "He knows me, and still forgives me for what I've done to him, over and over again, before and now." She gazed at Roxton, her heart in her eyes and voice, "The love that he brings to me is as pure and noble as his soul, and I will not ignore nor waste it this time."
Deliberately turning away from Warbek, she said to Roxton, "I give my love to you, Lord John Roxton - my Tiarnan - my heart and soul.
No greater power is that than love, and freely I give it to you." With that, she dropped her hands and the waves of energy ceased to flow from her being. She gazed at Roxton, the great weight of fear and despair lifted by her faith in him and the power of their love.
A great cry came up from Warbek and the energies that had been flowing around the room centered themselves directly on him. "No!" he screamed in incredible pain.
"You wanted the power," Marguerite turned to him with regret. "You didn't know what you asked for, did you?" She looked down at where Warbek writhed on the floor of the cave, in the throes of death. "I am truly sorry, Warbek," she added softly as he died, eyes wide open with fear and understanding of what had finally happened to him.
Roxton rapidly crossed over to Marguerite and took her into his arms, "Marguerite," he said over and over again as he held her.
"I'm sorry, John," Margeurite said tearfully.
"For what?" asked Roxton, stroking the hair from her face.
"For choosing power and wealth over you," she replied sadly.
"But, you didn't," Roxton said puzzled.
"I did before," Marguerite explained. "You can remember if you try. The energies of the planes are very high now; everything is coming together very fast. The past, the present, and the future have almost melded."
"I don't need to remember what happened before," Roxton replied with surety. He took her face in both of his hands, "I know how you feel now, and I love you, Marguerite. That's all that matters." A watery smile from Marguerite made him grin in return and they touched their foreheads together and just gazed at each other.
"I don't want to interrupt a moment," Malone said wryly. "But, there's a storm brewing and it doesn't have anything to do with the strange weather patterns on the Plateau."
Roxton and Marguerite turned to Malone who indicated the area directly below the rock chimney. Whirling winds stirred debris in frantic circles and a roaring sound from above could be heard.
"The storm is approaching," Marguerite said with concern. "We have to proceed to the center as soon as possible."
"But, we're not all together," Roxton said.
"He's right," Malone agreed. "Challenger is convinced we have to be together, ready to face our fears and embrace the changes, or it won't work - we won't be able to stop the spirals."
"OK," Marguerite nodded her head. "George may be wrong about some things, but this I believe I'll take his word on this."
"With all that's happened, I'm beginning to think I believe in Father Christmas," Roxton quipped as they made their way out of the cave.
"Don't even think it," Marguerite shook her head as they finally were free of the cave that had been the scene of her death. "He just might
show up on the Plateau, the way our lives are going." She breathed deeply and added, "Thank God. If I never go into another cave again, it will be too soon!"
"Can you stop the storm, Marguerite?" Malone asked as they stood in the midst of the growing maelstrom.
"Not by myself," she explained. "I gave away part of my power in the battle with Warbek. I'll need Veronica's help to control it, that and everyone's energies to help us if we're to stop it."
"Why did you cause the storm in the first place?" Malone wondered.
"I had to, in order to try and stop Warbek the first time," Marguerite replied. She shook her head, "He betrayed us to the Roman garrison, said that we were sacrificing humans in violation of the Roman law. He gave away the location of our tribe, for money, and a chance to gain the emeralds and the power they represented."
"I remember now," Roxton said hollowly. "They slaughtered us, the Averni, old and young, searching for our Druids, killing us because we would not betray them. In the end, it did no good, for Warbek had betrayed us all." Roxton looked at Marguerite and shook his head in sorrow, "You started the storm in an attempt to stop Warbek from getting the emeralds and the power, but you came to help us and didn't finish the spell."
"I was too late to help and incomplete in my conjuring," Marguerite said bitterly. "I would not trust my heart, trust you, as you wanted me to. I wanted to keep all the power, the wealth of my position, and thought if I gave in to you, I would lose it. In the end, I could not keep either my power or you, and Warbek killed me, placed me in the cave, and sealed my soul, trapped it for eternity." She looked at Roxton, tears flowing down her face, "It was only your love and faith in me, beyond all reason, that kept us alive in that cave and allowed you to free me, reunite me with myself. Thank you..." her voice trailed off as she sobbed.
Roxton pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair, letting her cry. "I'd never leave you or stop loving you, even if I ever wanted to for an insane moment, you know that," he gently reminded her. She nodded, but still sobbed against his chest, the emotion of the whole day finally breaking down her formidable walls.
"It's all right, Marguerite," soothed Roxton. "It's not every day you find out you've been reunited with half of your soul and have to save the universe."
"We have to save the universe, too?" Marguerite looked up, her voice incredulous. "Could this day get any better?"
"And, she's back," intoned Malone gleefully.
"And certainly not in the mood, Malone," Marguerite sniffed, and then spoiled the whole moment by reaching over and hugging the startled journalist. "Don't you ever leave us again like that, Neddie-boy, or I'll have to hurt you," she shook the younger man's shoulders for emphasis.
"Yes, Ma'am," Ned replied, bemused, but delighted by her actions.
"The storm," Roxton prodded. "Where do we go now?" he asked.
"We go to the center, where Veronica is," Malone said with certainty.
"We need to get Finn before we do," Marguerite said and Roxton nodded.
"Yes, and Challenger, too," Malone added.
"You know when Challenger is, right?" Roxton said to Malone.
"Yes, I think I'd better go see if he can leave the future and come to the center," Ned replied.
"We'll have to split up," Marguerite decided. "Time is growing short."
"Where do we come back to? Where is this center, and when?" Roxton asked.
"It's our present day," answered Malone, and Marguerite looked at him. "I can see the planes," he explained.
"All of them?" she marveled.
"Most of them, but I can't go to all of them," Ned explained.
Marguerite shook her head in wonder, "Your time in the spirit world, right?"
"Yes," Malone affirmed, smiling slightly. "Here I was thinking it was really a weird thing, but I see I fit right into our little group, not unusual at all."
Roxton barked a laugh at this last and said, "Can you see Veronica now, Malone?"
"Yes," Ned's eyes took on a far away expression. "She's in a great deal of pain and time is running short," he came back to himself, but his empathy and concern for Veronica was evident. "We have to hurry. You can travel to another plane?" he asked Marguerite.
"Yes, it will be hard, but I can do it," she replied. "Where is Finn?"
"In the future, where you went before," Malone replied.
"New Amazonia," Roxton said flatly.
"Oh, joy," Marguerite intoned.
The whirling freshets of air swirled around them as they shifted their planes again. Margeurite and Roxton to the near future, Malone to the distant future. In their present, at the center, Veronica keened her sorrow and pain at her inability to stop the spirals from cascading in upon one another. The time was growing short and she didn't know how to stop the gathering storm of power, time, and light. She only knew she had to hold on as long as possible, to wait and hope that someone would come to help her. Her mind and body concentrated on holding the Trion steady and attempting to balance the impossible combinations that were being thrust upon the Plateau, but her heart and soul cried out for Malone.
To Be Continued
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World
Date: 7/2002
Part: 5 - The Circle Be Unbroken
Rating: R
Codes: M/R, N/V
Category: Romance, Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi
Summary: Starts where HoTS left off. Danger Will Robinson! Mushy shipper alert, cliffhanger resolution alert, grandfather paradox
alert, and hey, I even like Finn.
Spoilers: OoT, Prophesy, The Secret, Trapped, HotS
Disclaimer: As a matter of fact, in the shifting planes of my own reality, I *do* own TLW ;)
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@canby.com
Website: http://www.canby.com/ryukyu4
Posting: ff.net, tlwfix.com, others please let me know first.
A/N: Thanks again for the nice feedback. It's music to the eyes of fanfic writers to see email about their stories...
A/N2: I have again taken such liberties with history and cultures that you must indulge my whims to alter things to suit my story. In many Asian and Druidic/Celtic religions, circles are considered sacred. Be assured that nothing in my story attempts to truly explain, deny, or support any religious point of view. Please just use my semi-accurate ramblings as a base of fancy to jump into the storyline.
***
She is a theme of honor and renown,
A spur to valiant and magnanimous deeds,
Whose present courage may beat down our foes,
And fame in time to come canonize us.
William Shakespeare (1564–1616)
"When I'm good, I'm very, very good. But, when I'm bad, I'm better."
Mae West (1892-1980)
***
It was hard to be at your best while being totally terrorized, Marguerite thought frantically. The altar that had previously been put to such wonderful use was now to be the site of her death. It wasn't fitting, she thought with bitterness, the memory of one of her greatest joys being sullied by these idiots in tasteless robes. Oh, God, Roxton, where are you?
Warbek held the ritual dagger high above his head, his elation growing almost beyond his capacity to control it. He *would* triumph; finally, his circle would be complete, the way that he wanted it completed. He began the chant to purify the coming sacrifice.
"Spirits of nature, of the trees and rocks, of the animals and Earth, show me your favor and your companionship, share with me the bond of spirit and of life on Earth. Grant me the power to purify this profane offering. Consecrate this misbegotten being so she may be offered up to you in the place of that which she has so recklessly conjured."
Warbek passed the dagger from side to side in arcs over Marguerite's body. Moving around the altar in a slow and deliberate fashion, he began chanting the same phrases over and over again, "To Taranis we give the knife, to Teutates we give the water, to Esus we give the shroud." His chanting became mumbling, the look in his eyes crazed and positively evil. The other robed and hooded figures were silent in their circle around the altar.
Marguerite was thinking rapidly while the Druid was performing the ritual. Somehow, the words that he was speaking seemed very familiar to her, and she felt that she should know their significance, but that the knowledge was somehow just outside the reaches of her conscious mind. She wanted to panic, to scream for Roxton again, but knew that it would be futile. Wherever John was, she knew that he would be trying to get to her as soon as possible. It was quite probable he still had those Spaniards to deal with, and it looked like she had been shifted to another time.
Time. There was something about time that was bothering her, too. She looked, really looked, at the man chanting over her, waving the knife. He had a hard face and eyes that were flat and malevolent, marked by an unholy glee that told her that he was enjoying the thought of her death way too much for a man who said that he was just trying to prevent her from destroying all of them. That was it, she decided. This guy wanted something, and in her book, if there wasn't something physically valuable on the line, the only thing worth going to all this trouble for was power. Somehow, by killing her, locking her in this chamber without a way for her soul to escape, he would be securing
power for himself.
Forcing herself to be calm, she began to center herself. Roxton, in what he'd called 'evening the score of secrets', had shared some of his experiences from his time at the Jokhang temple in Tibet. One of the things he had shared was meditation, relaxing and letting her self return to harmony. At first, she'd wanted to mock it, strangely afraid. But, she didn't say anything until he'd finished explaining it to her. She'd then only asked, "What do I say?" He'd looked at her, a small smile on his face; happy that she'd accepted this part of himself he'd offered to her. He'd then replied, "You say what you feel, Marguerite. No one can tell you how to feel, can they? You don't have to *say*
anything at all, if you don't want to. It's your circle, your choice." She'd smiled back at him at that. He knew how much she needed to be in control, and he'd just handed over control of herself to herself with nary a fuss. It had taken her a while to actually do it, but she'd begun practicing the meditation each day upon rising, before she went to greet the day and her companions. In the short time she'd been doing it, it had worked immeasurably in easing some of her stress and irritation, but had not reduced her need for coffee in the morning.
She felt a calmness wrap around her like a gentle blanket, and with it came a newfound strength that infused her being. She realized that everything that had happened to her since she had come to the Plateau had prepared her for this. All the struggles, tears, losses, triumphs, knowledge gained, and the rebirth of her heart and soul were connected. She knew now that Roxton's opening the vent to this chamber had let out a part of her that had always been missing before. She'd felt its lack, but now she was whole again.
She also realized that there was more - this was just the beginning. This crazed man was trying to end her circle, to not allow it to complete itself. He was trying to alter her path, change the outcome. Challenger was always going on about how you could change the future, and that Gypsy, Isadore, had told her that you could change your destiny if you were strong enough. Roxton was forever telling her that she was the most powerful woman he'd ever had the privilege to have known, and he was certain that she could do anything if she so chose to do so. Marguerite knew that John believed in her as well as loved her, and remembering that was the last impetus that she required. Roxton had told her that she needed to have faith in herself and that it would unlock the last of her fears holding her back. She damn well hoped he was right about the extent of her personal power, because she was about to field test that theory.
***
Roxton and Malone became aware of their surroundings gradually. It was the humidity and the smell that they recognized; they were in the jungle, and it seemed to be the Plateau. The scream of a raptor on the hunt clinched the deal.
"We're back on the Plateau," Malone observed as they both crouched low and scanned for the location of the dinosaur. Each of them automatically reached for weapons that weren't there; both made silent curses as they realized their lack almost simultaneously.
"Very observant of you, Neddie-boy," Roxton replied sardonically. "I see you've not lost your charming habit of re-stating the obvious."
"It's one of my more endearing qualities," Malone agreed nodding. "Behind that stand of trees, you think?" he gestured to the left and down the hillside.
"Yes," Roxton agreed. "It sounds like it's made a kill. I vote we move in that direction for a bit," he gestured in the opposite direction of the raptor, "and go like hell."
"I agree," Malone matched his actions to Roxton's words, and the two men made their way as rapidly and as silently as possible away from the raptor.
"Which way to find Marguerite?" Ned asked when they'd put enough distance between them and the raptor to talk.
Roxton looked around and noted that they were on the way to the Inland Sea. He'd know this path anywhere. It led to the cave that Marguerite and he had been trapped in. The cave that had changed his life. For a place that had almost killed him, he was very nostalgic about it. He had a suspicion that the discoveries they'd made it in that cave had something to do with what was happening.
"I think I know where we can find Marguerite," Roxton finally said. He looked at Malone, "Do you remember anything about some Druids on the Plateau?" His tone was casual, but his expression thoughtful as they continued to walk as quickly as they could.
"You know, I thought it was weird, but I've been having these dreams lately," Ned replied with wonder. "They've all been about Druids here on the Plateau. Marguerite, you, and I find them and they were going to kill her..."
"Until they found her birthmark," Roxton finished for him.
"Yeah," Malone replied, slightly puzzled. "How did you know that?" he asked.
"Because I've had the same dreams, Marguerite, too," Roxton answered. "Only, I don't think they're dreams," he continued grimly. "I think they're memories."
"Memories that we've forgotten and are just now remembering," Malone said hollowly. He'd had just a little too much of that in his life lately.
"Or been made to forget," Roxton suggested as they picked up the pace even more. They felt an urgency that exceeded their previous worries.
Malone looked sharply at Roxton at this last, "Do you remember that guy? He talked mostly to Marguerite," Ned asked suddenly.
"Yes," Roxton nodded. "He told her she was the reincarnation of some priestess."
"Named Morrigan," Malone added as he remembered.
"Come on. We've got to go to her, now," Roxton moved suddenly.
"Where?" Malone panted as he chased after the rapidly moving older man.
"The cave," Roxton snarled. At Malone's questioning look, he continued, "Marguerite and I found this cave a couple of weeks ago. It was sealed up with a door that had Celtic runes on it."
"That a bit of a coincidence," Ned observed as they made their way up a steep hill, sweat pouring from their bodies.
"No coincidence," Roxton shook his head. "We got the door open by accident, and what we found inside was amazing. The whole place was a tomb. We found a body of a woman wrapped in a shroud, sealed in this small cave. The thing is, she had the same birthmark as Marguerite."
"The spirals," Malone observed thoughtfully. "This whole spiral thing is amazing."
"Circles turned upon themselves," Roxton responded.
"Yes," Malone looked at Roxton. "You understand."
"A circle is life," Roxton said simply. "Spirals are circles within circles. Great power," he added, his breathe short with effort.
"Marguerite has the mark of spirals on her," Malone confirmed.
"Yes, the body we found had the exact same marks. At the time, we thought that she might be an ancestor of Marguerite's, but I'm beginning to think it was her," Roxton explained.
"The two of you found her body, while she was still alive?" Ned was totally confused, but the sensation was beginning to be very familiar.
"Hundreds of years after she died," Roxton replied grimly. "It seems crazy, but we both saw her. They sealed her tomb so her spirit couldn't escape. They wanted to trap her there for all time," he added angrily.
"Then, you think that's what's happening now?" Malone asked.
"Each of us has been taken to a time of great importance in our lives, right?" he asked the younger man.
"Yes," Ned responded. "Each of us has been brought to a critical time in our lives, a time when we have made decisions that affect our beings, the way we respond to the rest of our lives."
"This must be the most critical time for Marguerite," Roxton said with certainty. "It will decide whether she lives or dies, whether she accepts who she is, and whether her spirit will remain free and with her self."
"We'd better hurry, then," Ned said moving even faster.
"My thoughts exactly," Roxton replied and they ran down the path to the cave.
***
"You can't kill me," Marguerite said in a calmer voice than she felt. "You know I can come back, no matter what you do. I'm here, and you killed me before. It's useless."
Warbek froze at her words, interrupted in mid-chant. He stared at her for a few seconds, and then said shaking his head, "It cannot be. I have read the runes. I will have your power; my circle will finally be complete. You will be nothing, and I will rule the Druids for all time."
"All time just got a whole lot shorter than you think," she taunted, but inwardly her stomach lurched as the faceless, silent minions grabbed her and began dragging her down the steep incline to the pool of water. She didn't know how she knew, but she *knew* what they were going to do to her. They would drown her, while at the same time this lunatic would stab her, and later they would wrap her in the shroud, marked with her birthmark, sealing her body and soul. The triple death, trading her life for the cessation of the storm. The gods would be appeased and the balance kept.
"You have power here no more, Morrigan," Warbek said with arrogance, but a tinge of fear tainted his voice, and she could see his eyes held trepidation.
"You name me," she called out, her head held high as she was pulled into the water. "You know the power of a name, don't you?"
"Then, what's mine?" Warbek shot back, more afraid than he wanted to admit to himself, and gestured to his minions to hold her still.
Marguerite searched her memories and came up with a face that matched the one standing before her on the edge of the water. She had last seen him wearing the uniform of the German army. His name had been Oberst Wilhelm Stoehr, and he'd been responsible for a lot of pain, for her and thousands of others. He'd been greedy, conniving, rapacious, and totally power mad. Apparently, he ran true to form whatever time he was in. She closed her eyes and let the waves of energy that she was feeling flow through instead of around her. So much was happening; the climax of events was coming soon. And there it was - his face again. This time, he was wearing the drab
robes favored by so many of the Druid priests.
She opened her eyes and mocked with a false smile, "Still looking for the easy way out, aren't you, Warbek?" At the indrawn hiss of his breath, her smile widened, "You never believed nor cared. You wanted it easy - no taxes, no work, always being catered to." The minions, stunned by these revelations loosened their hold on Marguerite. She shook herself free of the hands that held her, walking slowly through the icy water to the edge where Warbek stood. She held up her right hand, pointed her index finger at him, and declared in ringing tones, "You are a liar and a fraud, Warbek of the Averni! Weak and spineless, you hold no power over that which is mine." With this last she ascended out of the water and stood on the ledge next to the Druid.
"You power was lacking in the Great Battle," Warbek accused. "You were defeated and all was lost. They wandered for centuries, waiting for your return. Bochra was a fool, but I am not. I wait for no one, especially a woman who will not yield her place to her betters." His tone change to taunting, "Tiarnan watched and wept as you died. You would not heed him, and all of them paid the price. He took the blame for your death, and was never the same after that. He just disappeared one day, never to return."
"Some paid more dearly than others, Warbek," Marguerite said coldly, looking steadily at him. "Some paid the price of trusting where no trust should have been placed. That was my weakness, my flaw. Tiarnan was steadfast to the end and bore no fault. The faults were mine alone. I took the emeralds and hid them where you couldn't find them, didn't I? You never could divine anything of importance, and now you think you can read the runes? You are small and weak, like all whose grasp exceeds their reach are."
"Not so weak as to not know how to harm you where it would hurt you the most," Warbek shouted and motioned to the water. A mist arose, and then a clearing shaped in a perfect circle appeared in the midst of it. Within the clearing there appeared images of Roxton and Malone as they made their way to the cave. "Behold, your beloved Tiarnan! I wonder how he will take being left for power again this time?" taunted Warbek. "Shall I just kill him now," he added, raising an arm, "or wait the few minutes until he and his companion arrive?"
"Stop, or I'll make you regret very existence," Marguerite snarled savagely. "Damn you, my choice was forced on my by you, and I have
lived to regret it ever after," she said hoarsely. "But, I'm done regretting. I'm not living in the past or for the past any more. I make my own destiny and I *will not* allow you to harm him or anyone I care about," her voice rose as she spoke, ending on a shout and she took several steps toward Warbek and stopped directly in front of him. Stray sparks of electricity lit the air as she moved and her eyes had taken on a green glowing reminiscent of the emeralds she had once hid then replaced in the keystone of their altar. The vision in the mist disappeared suddenly.
"You've remembered," Warbek was horrified and began backing up.
Marguerite said in a calm, steely voice, "Roxton released the other half of my soul. No matter what you do, you can't stop me. I am here. I am whole, and I *remember*. And, you will soon wish to forget!" She followed the cringing man up the stone path, moving deliberately, as a cat might stalk a mouse.
Warbek practically ran to the altar, and then turned around, putting his hands on the edge to keep him from collapsing in ignoble fear. How had Tiarnan freed her? This Plateau, with all of its intersecting planes of power, how had he come to be here, and how had he found her within it? "I have foretold it," he babbled, his eyes crazed. "Your power will be mine. The storm that approaches will be controlled by me."
Marguerite stopped several paces away from Warbek and the altar and lifted her arms, palms upward, and slowly described a circle until her hands met over her head. She then moved her hands down together, as if holding a ball in her hands, to her chest level. Within her hands a glow of light began to shine. The intensity of the light grew in power as she murmured a pattern of words unknown to Warbek.
"Great goddess, you have freed me from the icy prison of water. This is the beginning. Life renews itself by Your magic, Earth Goddess. I walk the earth in friendship, not in dominance. Mother Goddess and Father God, instill within me through my love a warmth for all living things. Teach me to revere the Earth and all its treasures. May I never forget that love is all."
Warbek cried, "You cannot stop the storm your power conjured, Morrigan! You will be the cause of the destruction of all if you chose to keep your power this time! You cannot stop it, nor can you divert it, for Bochra is not here to help you, you bitch!" The Druid's voice took on a high pitch screeching quality that left no doubt as to the lack of his sanity.
Marguerite looked up finally at Warbek. Her face was coldly magnificent, and power radiated throughout her being. She was about to speak, when she noticed movement in the cave behind the altar. Roxton and Malone appeared at that moment. Warbek, with the instincts of a rat on a sinking ship, screamed for his minions to attack them and scuttled to escape. Marguerite noted that both Roxton and Malone seemed to be doing fine, so she concentrated on Warbek.
Roxton saw Marguerite acknowledge his presence, but she seemed to be preoccupied with that one individual. Well, Malone and he could take care of these creatures. The two men waded into the ensuing fistfight with such fervor that the Druid minions were dispatched in short order.
"Where's Marguerite?" Malone panted as they took stock of the bodies littering the floor of the cave.
"I saw her heading over toward the rock chimney," Roxton replied as he moved rapidly in the direction he'd seen Marguerite and the other Druid go. He knew something important was happening and that he had to be there.
As the two men reached the rock chimney, they saw Marguerite and the Druid locked in battle. They didn't touch one another, but their hands were raised and pulsing waves of energy pummeled each other's bodies as they fought. Savage winds buffeted the other occupants of the cave, but they didn't seem to touch the two combatants.
"Yield!" commanded Marguerite. "You cannot hope to win."
"I may not win, but you will surely lose," taunted Warbek. "You cannot control me and the approaching storm, and you will chose to try to control the storm, for you will never willingly give up your power. I will escape to fight another day. It is who you are."
"It was who I was," Marguerite acknowledged. "But, it is not who I am now. For all that has come to pass between us, you have learned nothing about me." She looked over at where Roxton stood with Malone. "He knows me, and still forgives me for what I've done to him, over and over again, before and now." She gazed at Roxton, her heart in her eyes and voice, "The love that he brings to me is as pure and noble as his soul, and I will not ignore nor waste it this time."
Deliberately turning away from Warbek, she said to Roxton, "I give my love to you, Lord John Roxton - my Tiarnan - my heart and soul.
No greater power is that than love, and freely I give it to you." With that, she dropped her hands and the waves of energy ceased to flow from her being. She gazed at Roxton, the great weight of fear and despair lifted by her faith in him and the power of their love.
A great cry came up from Warbek and the energies that had been flowing around the room centered themselves directly on him. "No!" he screamed in incredible pain.
"You wanted the power," Marguerite turned to him with regret. "You didn't know what you asked for, did you?" She looked down at where Warbek writhed on the floor of the cave, in the throes of death. "I am truly sorry, Warbek," she added softly as he died, eyes wide open with fear and understanding of what had finally happened to him.
Roxton rapidly crossed over to Marguerite and took her into his arms, "Marguerite," he said over and over again as he held her.
"I'm sorry, John," Margeurite said tearfully.
"For what?" asked Roxton, stroking the hair from her face.
"For choosing power and wealth over you," she replied sadly.
"But, you didn't," Roxton said puzzled.
"I did before," Marguerite explained. "You can remember if you try. The energies of the planes are very high now; everything is coming together very fast. The past, the present, and the future have almost melded."
"I don't need to remember what happened before," Roxton replied with surety. He took her face in both of his hands, "I know how you feel now, and I love you, Marguerite. That's all that matters." A watery smile from Marguerite made him grin in return and they touched their foreheads together and just gazed at each other.
"I don't want to interrupt a moment," Malone said wryly. "But, there's a storm brewing and it doesn't have anything to do with the strange weather patterns on the Plateau."
Roxton and Marguerite turned to Malone who indicated the area directly below the rock chimney. Whirling winds stirred debris in frantic circles and a roaring sound from above could be heard.
"The storm is approaching," Marguerite said with concern. "We have to proceed to the center as soon as possible."
"But, we're not all together," Roxton said.
"He's right," Malone agreed. "Challenger is convinced we have to be together, ready to face our fears and embrace the changes, or it won't work - we won't be able to stop the spirals."
"OK," Marguerite nodded her head. "George may be wrong about some things, but this I believe I'll take his word on this."
"With all that's happened, I'm beginning to think I believe in Father Christmas," Roxton quipped as they made their way out of the cave.
"Don't even think it," Marguerite shook her head as they finally were free of the cave that had been the scene of her death. "He just might
show up on the Plateau, the way our lives are going." She breathed deeply and added, "Thank God. If I never go into another cave again, it will be too soon!"
"Can you stop the storm, Marguerite?" Malone asked as they stood in the midst of the growing maelstrom.
"Not by myself," she explained. "I gave away part of my power in the battle with Warbek. I'll need Veronica's help to control it, that and everyone's energies to help us if we're to stop it."
"Why did you cause the storm in the first place?" Malone wondered.
"I had to, in order to try and stop Warbek the first time," Marguerite replied. She shook her head, "He betrayed us to the Roman garrison, said that we were sacrificing humans in violation of the Roman law. He gave away the location of our tribe, for money, and a chance to gain the emeralds and the power they represented."
"I remember now," Roxton said hollowly. "They slaughtered us, the Averni, old and young, searching for our Druids, killing us because we would not betray them. In the end, it did no good, for Warbek had betrayed us all." Roxton looked at Marguerite and shook his head in sorrow, "You started the storm in an attempt to stop Warbek from getting the emeralds and the power, but you came to help us and didn't finish the spell."
"I was too late to help and incomplete in my conjuring," Marguerite said bitterly. "I would not trust my heart, trust you, as you wanted me to. I wanted to keep all the power, the wealth of my position, and thought if I gave in to you, I would lose it. In the end, I could not keep either my power or you, and Warbek killed me, placed me in the cave, and sealed my soul, trapped it for eternity." She looked at Roxton, tears flowing down her face, "It was only your love and faith in me, beyond all reason, that kept us alive in that cave and allowed you to free me, reunite me with myself. Thank you..." her voice trailed off as she sobbed.
Roxton pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair, letting her cry. "I'd never leave you or stop loving you, even if I ever wanted to for an insane moment, you know that," he gently reminded her. She nodded, but still sobbed against his chest, the emotion of the whole day finally breaking down her formidable walls.
"It's all right, Marguerite," soothed Roxton. "It's not every day you find out you've been reunited with half of your soul and have to save the universe."
"We have to save the universe, too?" Marguerite looked up, her voice incredulous. "Could this day get any better?"
"And, she's back," intoned Malone gleefully.
"And certainly not in the mood, Malone," Marguerite sniffed, and then spoiled the whole moment by reaching over and hugging the startled journalist. "Don't you ever leave us again like that, Neddie-boy, or I'll have to hurt you," she shook the younger man's shoulders for emphasis.
"Yes, Ma'am," Ned replied, bemused, but delighted by her actions.
"The storm," Roxton prodded. "Where do we go now?" he asked.
"We go to the center, where Veronica is," Malone said with certainty.
"We need to get Finn before we do," Marguerite said and Roxton nodded.
"Yes, and Challenger, too," Malone added.
"You know when Challenger is, right?" Roxton said to Malone.
"Yes, I think I'd better go see if he can leave the future and come to the center," Ned replied.
"We'll have to split up," Marguerite decided. "Time is growing short."
"Where do we come back to? Where is this center, and when?" Roxton asked.
"It's our present day," answered Malone, and Marguerite looked at him. "I can see the planes," he explained.
"All of them?" she marveled.
"Most of them, but I can't go to all of them," Ned explained.
Marguerite shook her head in wonder, "Your time in the spirit world, right?"
"Yes," Malone affirmed, smiling slightly. "Here I was thinking it was really a weird thing, but I see I fit right into our little group, not unusual at all."
Roxton barked a laugh at this last and said, "Can you see Veronica now, Malone?"
"Yes," Ned's eyes took on a far away expression. "She's in a great deal of pain and time is running short," he came back to himself, but his empathy and concern for Veronica was evident. "We have to hurry. You can travel to another plane?" he asked Marguerite.
"Yes, it will be hard, but I can do it," she replied. "Where is Finn?"
"In the future, where you went before," Malone replied.
"New Amazonia," Roxton said flatly.
"Oh, joy," Marguerite intoned.
The whirling freshets of air swirled around them as they shifted their planes again. Margeurite and Roxton to the near future, Malone to the distant future. In their present, at the center, Veronica keened her sorrow and pain at her inability to stop the spirals from cascading in upon one another. The time was growing short and she didn't know how to stop the gathering storm of power, time, and light. She only knew she had to hold on as long as possible, to wait and hope that someone would come to help her. Her mind and body concentrated on holding the Trion steady and attempting to balance the impossible combinations that were being thrust upon the Plateau, but her heart and soul cried out for Malone.
To Be Continued