Chapter Twenty-Three

Accepting Whatever Comes

Restless Waters

"Hope, give me a hand, please."

"Of course, Granny."

Granny said nothing more as Hope followed her back to her apartment. Once there, Granny went into her private kitchen, got a butter knife, and went to the library area. The library had an unusually cluttered look, with ancient books and scrolls scattered over her small desk, sofa, and coffee table.

"What can I help with?"

"I want you to help with the summoning of Bequlf." Granny opened a glass-fronted book shelf and slowly removed each heavy book and gently set them aside until the bottom shelf was empty. "Hand me the butter knife, please."

Hope passed the knife to her and watched as the older woman used it to pry up the bottom shelf, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside, Hope saw several books, five wooden boxes, a long, plain dagger, and a handful of smaller items in a woven basket.

Granny lifted out a book and a wooden box, and then replaced the shelf. She handed the book to Hope before struggling to her feet.

Hope studied the book. It was ancient and leather bound, but rather plain looking. The cover was a mottled brown with the letter "V" tooled onto the front. Did the "V" stand for Vali? Hope started to open it, but Granny stopped her by lifting it from Hope's hands.

"First, we will need to prepare a place. We are not of magic like they are, so we must wrap the magic around us during a ceremony." Granny stood in front of the card table. She placed the book on the table and motioned for Hope to stand next to her. "This will seem strange but remember that we will still be in this room and will remain completely safe."

"What will happen?"

Granny held out her hand, showing Hope four small stones. Each had a symbol on it. "These are rune stones. All rune stones are special. These can summon the Children of Vali to the Keeper. They were given to the First Keeper to gather the scattered clans and maintain contact with each group. Now I will use them to call to Bequlf and summon him to the meeting."

"Granny, why am I a part of this?"

"Because you will be Keeper when I'm gone. I've waited far too long to begin your training and today, I will begin to correct that mistake. Don't worry, dear. I'll tell you exactly what to do." She picked up the book and stepped around to the opposite side of the table. She then laid down the book and opened it to about half way. "Place your hands on the table."

Hope did as she was told.

"Close your eyes."

She heard the words, and her eyelids immediately grew heavy and slid closed. The table was still under her hands, but it felt different. She explored the texture with her fingertips, feeling the deep grain of old wood instead of the papery feel of the folding table. Hope shifted her weight nervously and noticed that the floor had gone soft under her feet, unlike the hardwood of the library. It was soft, like they stood in a moss covered glen. With the image of the glen came the scents and sounds to go along with it.

"With the gifts of Odin's wisdom in her hand, Eisa used the wisdom to choose the words. Eisa, daughter of Loki, used the words to call the magic. Eisa, she who was given to mortality. She used the magic to summon the chosen. Eisa, my mother long gone before, passed the wisdom, the words, and the magic down through the ages to me. And to you."

Hope opened her eyes. Granny now looked the role of Keeper in a long, red silk robe. She also held a totally different and powerful presence. She was the Keeper. Hope and the Keeper now stood on opposite sides of a round wooden table. The center of the table was carved into a depression which held the four rune stones. Three lay with their runes down and hidden. The fourth lay face up, but she did not know what the rune said.

The Keeper spoke an ancient language and sprinkled fine dust over the one rune. Thin smoke curled up from the table. Again, she said the words, and then Hope heard the Keeper speak the formal name Bequlf, son of Basqulf. The smoke spun in lazy circles.

Hope wondered if this was the extent of the ceremony. How did it work? Would Bequlf hear the words and come? She watched as Granny repeated the steps again. Something in the way the words sounded felt wrong, as if the ceremony wasn't working.

As the words were said a third time, Hope realized they were slightly different. This time they called to Belquavir, the shaman. This time, the smoke thickened, and a soft voice answered the Keeper.

"Keeper, I have answered your call."

"A meeting must be set," the Keeper said bluntly. "A truce must be discussed"

"If it is your will." Belquavir sounded reluctant.

"It is. Come to me. And bring Bequlf." The Keeper's voice rang with command, and obvious disapproval for Bequlf.

"He will not go there."

"Then where?"

"The park, where we once liked to walk."

"Fine, the park, at noon." The Keeper's voice softened and then she swept up the runes into her hand.

The smoke thinned, and Hope saw the card table and the library. She reached out and touched her fingers to the center of the table, almost expecting to find a depression there. But of course, there was none. The table was as flat and flimsy as ever.

She looked up in surprise when Granny slammed the book shut with enough force to blow dust from the ancient pages.

"What's wrong?"

"That-that disrespecting miscreant. How dare he? Just who does he think he is to ignore a summons?"

"If Bequlf didn't have to answer, why would Belquavir?"

"Bequlf should have answered. A summons is considered an honor, because it provides an individual with a voice in the Keeper's records. I usually don't need to use the summoning runes in present day, because I can telephone those I need to contact much more easily. But to use the stones adds honor to a call. In this case, it was more dignified than yelling across the back field. Bel at least recognized the honor that was given."

"What did Belquavir mean when he mentioned the place where you used to walk?"

"Bel and I were friends at a time when we both needed support. It was after George died that I moved our family to this place. I wanted to be closer to a strong clan. Bel's mate had also died, and we had grief in common." The phone rang, and Granny raised the receiver to answer.

Hope listened shamelessly, but Granny said little on her end of the conversation. The call was short, and she hung up after only a minute.

"That was Barbara, from next door. She is at the hospital with Colleen. The poor girl broke her arm. Barb called to let me know that Samantha is riding over to spend the day here."

"This isn't the best day for you to babysit."

"No, it's not. But you know Sam won't be any trouble. She can stay here when we go to the park."

"When will she get here?"

"Any minute now."

* * *

Samantha LaBarron galloped through the woods on her pony, Thunder. She leaned low over his back to encourage him to go faster. Guilt didn't slow her at all, even though she had promised to ride directly to their neighbor's house. Instead, she was running Thunder on what she privately called their race track, which was actually just a narrow trail that looped around the wooded hill between the two homes.

Today, she and Colleen had been planning to ride together, but Colleen and their mom were on their way to the hospital instead.

Really, it was Thunder's fault. With his typical sense of humor, he had started a game of tag when he should have come to her whistle. Colleen already had her young mare, Sundance, saddled and was warming her up in the paddock. Sunny got excited by Thunder's game and threw Colleen off with a couple of bunny hops.

Sam patted Thunder's shoulder with a couple of hard slaps in forgiveness for his earlier crimes.

Colleen broke her arm in the fall, but she seemed more embarrassed by being thrown in such a silly way. Mom and Colleen left for the emergency room and Sam offered to stay and take care of the horses. They'd only agreed after she promised to go to Aunt Ella's house after feeding the animals.

If she hurried, she could get to Aunt Ella's in about twenty minutes, but that was a very fast ride. If she took her time, she would be there in about an hour. Sam figured no one would worry about her until afternoon, so she had plenty of time to enjoy a good long ride.

She loved the race track, and so did Thunder. She leaned lower over his neck and hugged him as he ran in a slow canter. His love of the run brought a smile to her lips. He would happily canter around the track for three or more laps before he started to tire.

He reminded her of her favorite books about the black stallion. She laughed. Thunder was hardly a black stallion type. But he had that kind of heart. And heart was more important than type any day. Thunder was a paint colored, pony gelding with a heavy body and strong legs. In everything but color he looked like a Welsh Cob. Deep down though, Sam knew he had the heart of an Arabian Stallion. Maybe even a black one.

* * *

Athair sat down next to Sandulfr on the back porch, using the opportunity to study Sgrios as they discussed the upcoming meeting. Sgrios looked as he always did, uneasy in his own skin and anxious to be away from the strain of socializing.

Even with his brother's unease, Athair could easily forgive Hope's accusations. He knew Sgrios was capable of killing and would do so without hesitation in the heat of battle. Despite always appearing on the verge of explosion, Sgrios actually was tightly controlled when around others. He restrained his emotions and actions to avoid harming those around him. But was he, after these long centuries, finally losing his battle for control? Although Athair considered Sgrios cleared of the crimes, the boy's murder had made him wonder if something might cause Sgrios to kill an innocent. No, he was sure, Sgrios wouldn"t lose his honor again, not like that once so long ago.

"Did you speak with Dàn?" Sgrios asked.

"Yes, but he didn't tell me anything we don't already know," Athair answered.

"Do you think he knows more that he's not telling us?" Sgrios sat slightly apart from Sandulfr, but it was obvious they had been talking for some time.

"Doesn't he always? But all he said was that we should expect Bequlf to cause more problems." Dàn had been blunter than that. As even tempered as Dàn usually was, he had grown angry at the mention of Bequlf. "What is the plan if Bequlf becomes a problem?"

"If he starts anything, we will finish it," Sgrios growled.

"How many will he have with him?" Athair studied Sgrios more closely. There was a stillness to him that was unnerving.

"About a dozen," Sandulfr said.

"Against how many of ours?" Athair puzzled over his brother's odd behavior. Strangely, he almost seemed at ease, relaxed. "Will we be able to hold our own?"

"I brought five with me." Sandulfr named three men to whom they had not yet spoken.

"We have the five boys with us. That makes our numbers about even," Sgrios said with a satisfied rumble. So that was what made him so relaxed. He was battle ready, accepting that he would soon have the chance to expel his pent up powers.

"Hopefully it won't come to open battle." Sandulfr showed more optimism than Athair had for the upcoming events.

"If you don't mind my asking, why doesn't Bequlf just challenge you for leadership in open combat?" Athair asked.

"Because he would lose," Sandulfr answered.

Neither Athair nor Sgrios responded to his egotistical comment, but they shared a look that Sandulfr must have interpreted as disbelief.

"I defeated his father before I was not much more than an adolescent. Bequlf has never had the skill to defeat me in a fair battle."

"If he can't win a challenge fight, then why does he continue to instigate trouble for your clan?" Athair asked.

"Only he can answer that. I suppose enough of the others support him that he believes he has the right to be Alpha. But if the clan truly wanted him, I would step aside. In fact, I would leave the clan and the area. I could never accept his kind of leadership."