A flash of lightning brightened the sleeping chamber. Ash woke with a start and burrowed into the pillows. The scent of trouble rode the air currents that threaded through the open window slats. Her heart thudded in her chest. Like the beating of a giant’s club against a massive drum, thunder sounded. Again, lightning flashed and cast green, red, white and blue slashes across the sky.
The air held no threat of rain. ‘Twas like the heat storms of summer,
unnatural at this time of year, for the waning days of autumn marked the
season.
Ash calmed her racing thoughts and tasted the air, for that was her element.
A frown formed within and without. From the land beyond the four walls of the
henge, she caught the odors of fires, animals and men. From inside the keep,
there was little except the aromas of her parents and siblings. Something was
wrong. Where were those who served the Dom and Doma of Wesren? Ash propped
herself against the pillows. If she had her younger brother’s affinity for
things of earth, she could read the stones of the ancient tower and know what
had passed while she slept. Where were the men servants and maids? ‘Twas as
though the henge had been abandoned by those who lived within the four walls.
The chamber door creaked. Ash froze until a familiar scent reached her.
“Mama, what’s wrong?”
The Doma Calanda slipped across the room and sat on the bed. “Ashlea,
still your thoughts.”
Ash struggled to obey the sharp command. Her mother seldom spoke this
way. “Why?”
“Thoughts travel on the wind and may be read by those who wish us ill.”
She grasped Ash’s hand. “Dress in your warmest clothes. As soon as you’ve
finished, go to the inner room.”
The urgency in her mother’s voice raised fear. “What’s happening?”
“We’ve been betrayed. An army surrounds the henge. Your father and I
believe the secret of the openings in the walls is known by those who seek to force
us to use our powers for their ends.”
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