Chapter Four

Something warm and soft covered me. It was heavier than a hospital sheet, the weight of a blanket. I opened my eyes. The MRI unit was gone, and so was the hospital. I lay on a downy mattress underneath a patchwork quilt. A woman stood at the foot of a wooden bed. She wore intricately embroidered clothing, and her long hair hung in a braid down her back. Around her neck was a silver pendant enameled with the symbol of a rose. She held a small drum and struck it lightly, alternating between the heel of her hand and her fingers.

Thump-tap-thump, thump-tap-thump.

She stopped drumming and smiled at me. “Welcome back, Lady Jess. You see, Captain. I told you she was stronger than the carver’s poison. She answered the call of the spirit drum.”

The Rose Stone returns.

I looked above me. Racer perched on the headboard, peering at me with those crystalline eyes. Griffin stood next to him, lines of worry etched deep in his brow. He moved to the side of the bed, and my heart did a happy dance.

“Oh, hi,” I said. “It’s you again.”

Griffin’s worry lines disappeared as he flashed a broad smile. “How do you feel?”

“I’m okay.” I sat up and looked around. Still wearing the hospital scrubs, I was in a small room flooded with light from an open window. Outside was a garden, and delicate floral scents drifted in the air. A little warning bell rang. This is a hallucination. Try to wake up.

I stifled the bell. What was the rush? I was in the hospital, the safest place to be. If I had an unexpected medical emergency, Melanie and Dr. Turner would rush to the rescue. In the meantime, the presence of Griffin sent delicious flutters through me. Why not enjoy the fantasy while it lasted?

“Where am I this time?” I asked.

“Still in High Point Garrison but another chamber,” said Griffin. He nodded at the older woman. “Danya is our chief drummer and a powerful healer. She treated you for carver poisoning. You should have told me it wounded you,” he scolded gently. “Even a scratch from their claws is deadly.”

“Now, Captain,” said Danya. “How could Lady Jess have known? She is a stranger here, and her ways are not ours.” Danya’s piercing eyes captured and held my gaze. They seemed to peer right into me, weighing and measuring in a spiritual manner. I hoped her mental excavation didn’t disappoint.

Danya smiled at me. “It doesn’t.”

I blinked. “How did you know what I was thinking?”

“Drummers have the ability to perceive hidden things,” said Griffin.

Danya placed her palm against my forehead and then nodded with satisfaction. “Your body and spirit have traveled very far to rejoin us. Don’t try to move quickly.”

I rubbed a hand over the soft quilt and found it impossible to tell dream from reality. With a sudden impulse, I reached out and touched the rose on Griffin’s tabard.

He smiled at me, and those pleasant flutters increased. “Am I real enough?”

I chuckled. “For now. I’ve decided not to question anything and merely go along with the story.”

“I need to check the dressing,” said Danya.

Danya unwrapped a bandage on my arm and aromatic leaves fell off. I stared at the barely visible pink lines, identical to the ones I saw in the loft. There was no pain. “I had the same marks at home, but they vanished the next morning.”

“As will these and leave no scar,” said Danya. Her eyes glinted with amusement. “If you wish to see me as a dream, I have no objection, but I hope you choose to remain with us a while this time. We didn’t have a chance to talk.”

“Since, apparently, I don’t have control over how long I’m here, you better fill me in now on what happened. The last thing I remember was being in the dining hall and suddenly feeling blazing hot.”

“A fever is the first sign of carver poisoning,” said Griffin. “Fortunately, Danya arrived at that moment.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “You attended a birth. How’d it go?”

“I thought we were hallucinations,” she said lightly.

I grinned. “You are, but I’m curious and want to fill in the details.”

“Mother and daughter were both doing well. I treated your arm, but the poison sent you into a deep sleep from which few ever waken. Captain Griffin didn’t leave your side.”

“Naturally, I was concerned,” he said gruffly. “Especially when Jess disappeared.”

My eyes widened. “I did?”

“Yes,” said Danya. “Your body vanished, but a link to your essence remained. It was strong enough for the beat of the drum to find you and show you the route back here. You returned a short while ago. However, your spirit did not anchor in place, being tugged in two directions.”

“I thought I lost you,” said Griffin softly.

Heat rose to my cheeks. “I heard you calling.”

“I’m pleased you chose to answer.”

Danya leaned toward me. “Is it true? You are the Rose Stone?”

“My name is Jessica Rose Stone. I don’t know anything about the Rose Stone of yours.”

Danya looked at Griffin. “Have you heard from Stone Keep?”

“I sent a warbird to Commander Tian with a message for the chancellor.”

Racer cocked his head and then peered at the window. A warbird returns.

Danya rubbed her chin. “I expect Chancellor Emlyn will summon us to the council chamber. It can’t be a coincidence that Lady Jess arrived as attacks from the darkling increase.”

“Hang on a second,” I said. “I have questions—” A knock at the door interrupted my protest, and Bram and Abril entered. Their expressions filled with wonder when they spotted me sitting up in bed.

“I’m glad to see you’ve recovered,” said Bram. “Carver poisoning is often fatal even when treated immediately.”

“Indeed,” said Abril, eyes twinkling. “The captain was so concerned we feared for both of you.”

Griffin shot her a severe look, and she pressed her lips together. “Racer reported a warbird has returned,” he said.

Abril straightened, all military business again. “Yes, sir. Commander Tian sent orders to bring Lady Jess to Stone Keep immediately. He also said drummers to the south have warned more breaches will occur at the boundary there.”

Danya nodded. “It’s as we feared. My people also received warnings from the spirit drums.”

Griffin issued a flurry of commands to Bram and Abril to prepare for departure in the morning. “Lady Jess needs riding clothes,” said Abril. “If she is well enough to stand, I can have her properly outfitted—”

“Stop!” I said. The room went silent. Racer flapped his wings. I threw off the covers and slid out of bed. “I’m not sure I want to go anywhere until I know what’s going on. What is the Rose Stone, and why is it so important?”

“Lady Jess is quite right,” said Danya. “She’s a guest, not a Rose Guard under orders, and important decisions should never be made lightly. She needs to understand our world.” Danya handed me a robe hanging over the foot of the bed and a pair of slippers and motioned to a door. “Why don’t we sit in the garden and talk? Fresh air will do us both good.”

I slipped on the robe. Griffin took the quilt from the bed and wrapped it around my shoulders. “Danya will answer your questions. I have duties to attend but will return shortly.” As he tucked the quilt around me, I shot a sneaky glance at his hand. No wedding ring. Yay, my fantasy held tight.

Griffin left, and Danya beckoned me out a door. Off the chamber was a walled terrace with trees, neatly tended rows of herbs, and staked plants. A few stakes sat by themselves and had a T-shape at the top. I sat in a wicker chair by a table. Although the wall cut the wind, the air was chilly, and I pulled the quilt closer around me.

“This is my private garden where I grow medicinal herbs. Those who drum also heal,” said Danya.

“It’s lovely here.”

“I’ve always found it soothing when I’m troubled. Time in the garden would have served Captain Griffin well.” In an offhand manner, she said, “Concern for your health overshadowed his mind these past hours, and he is not a man to sit idly.”

I avoided her sharp eyes. “He’s been on my mind a lot, too.”

“Has he? How interesting. I’ll be back in a moment with tea.”

Danya was right about her garden. The sun chased away the shadows, not a single cloud marred the perfect blue sky, and every scrap of tension melted away. It was hard to believe a towering wall of destruction recently blotted out the same sky. I closed my eyes, reveling in the warmth caressing my skin.

With a soft chirrup, Racer alit on the T-shaped stake nearest me and their true purpose as warbird perches became plain.

The legion is welcome in Danya’s garden.

“So I see. Well, it’s certainly a lovely place.” He peered at me with those unnervingly intelligent eyes as if expecting me to continue the conversation. “Um, been a warbird long?”

I bonded with Griffin when he reached full guard status. The hunting has been good. I received an impression of slashing talons, carvers lying dead, and a warbird’s screech of victory.

“Uh-huh. Well, it’s great to find fulfillment in one’s work.”

Yes. Fulfilled. I have a mate. I am fulfilled.

“Oh, um, that’s nice. Is she here? I’d be happy to meet her.” This was the strangest conversation I’d ever had.

Tempest and I have a fledgling, so she nests at Stone Keep for safety. Warbirds mate for life. The sky is empty without her.

A sudden wave of longing from Racer hit me. “I’m sorry,” I said, moved by the heartfelt yearning of this creature. “Will she come home soon?”

She and the fledgling will join me shortly. He looked at the door. Griffin’s sky has always been empty. Griffin should find fulfillment, too. Tempest and I have told him so.

“Racer!” Griffin strode outside, followed by Danya holding a tray. “Jess doesn’t need her quiet disturbed by the idle ramblings of a warbird. We will leave on the morrow. Alert the legion.”

As you wish. He launched from the stake and flew over the garden wall. I got the impression he was miffed Griffin interrupted our chat, and I stifled a snort of laughter at the thought of Griffin harangued by an impudent warbird.

Danya set down the tray containing mugs of steaming liquid and a plate of cakes. “I have never found Racer’s conversations to be either idle or rambling,” she said innocently.

“You don’t know him as well as I do,” muttered Griffin.

She handed me a mug and offered cake. “Since our guest is new to this land, it’s best to start at the beginning, whenever that might have been. It was so long ago no one alive today witnessed the origins of the Commonwealth. The tales that remain are mere fragmented records of the Great War.”

“The world was once not as you see it now,” said Griffin. “Humanity harnessed wave, wind, and sky. Powerful machines bit deep into the earth, sailed through the fiercest storms, and equaled warbirds in their mastery of the air. The stories say there were even machines that thought.”

“I’m aware of them,” I said. “In my world, they’re commonplace and called computers. I even own one.”

Griffin and Danya exchanged startled glances. “And the darkling hasn’t attacked?” she murmured. “Then that portal is yet closed.”

“Who is the darkling?”

Danya shrugged. “No one can say. We believe it lives beyond our space and time, but from its lair, the darkling can open a breach such as the one on the ridge and send carvers to do its bidding. They spread panic while the darkling hunts the spark.”

“What’s the spark?” I asked.

“We harness wind and water and use the fuel bricks for lamps, heat, and steam, but the old ways used the spark,” said Griffin. “So wondrous, it is said, that their most powerful machines turned day into night and even rivaled the energy of the sun.”

I startled. “You mean electricity? Nuclear power?”

He spread his hands in a helpless gesture. “I don’t know those words, but the ancestors reached far and wide, questing for more knowledge, more powerful machines. They found methods to open portals to other worlds. Through them, it is said, came many wonders including lyrs and warbirds.”

Griffin’s jaw tightened. “One black day, the darkling arrived to hunt the spark. Breaches occurred in every quarter, spewing carvers and war machines that killed every living thing in sight. The darkling drained the spark from one area and moved to the next. Nothing slowed it. Nothing stopped it. The world fought, and the world died. The area that now encompasses the Commonwealth was the last free place.”

“How was the darkling defeated?” I asked, hanging on every word.

“During the heat of the Great War, when all seemed lost, the Rose Stone arrived to save us. From where or how we do not know. The stone’s power pushed back the darkling’s army, sealed the breaches, and created the protective boundary.”

“The boundary,” I murmured. “You mean the shimmering curtain I saw on the ridge.”

“Yes. It encircles the Commonwealth. The darkling hunts for weak spots in the boundary where breaches can occur. Fortunately, they have been small in number compared to those of the Great War when many occurred at once. The boundary also blocks the war machines. Carvers pass through the breaches, perhaps because unlike machines they are part living flesh, but until recently only one entered at a time—with the guard to stop them thanks to the Rose Stone’s warnings.”

Danya said, “The Rose Stone speaks to the drummers and taught us to hear the warnings and seal breaches to prevent the wind surge. Our people forbid the use of the spark in the Commonwealth as it draws the darkling and weakens the boundary. Eighteen years ago, the darkling’s power rose again. Drummers sealed one breach, and another instantly formed. We feared the war machines would follow, but the Rose Guard and the drummers stood fast, and the attacks finally subsided. Since then, the darkling’s assaults have remained steady, but not overwhelming, and continue to test our defenses.” Her voice softened. “The Rose Stone is our salvation and as vital to our world as the sun in the sky.”

“The recent increase in breaches worries me,” said Griffin.

“You think the darkling plans another massive attack,” I said. “I don’t get it. What does it want here if there’s no more spark to hunt?”

Griffin scowled. “The darkling covets the Rose Stone. It never stops probing for a way to weaken us, overrun the boundary, and take control. The darkling remains vigilant and realized an unknown had entered the Commonwealth. It sent the carvers, but instead of the spark, you appeared—a mystery. The darkling ordered your capture, hoping to control your power to seize the Rose Stone.”

“Well, the darkling got its wires crossed,” I said. “I don’t have any power or a connection to a stone.”

Danya gave me a questioning look. “Yet, Jessica Rose Stone, you are here.”

I folded my arms and regarded them both sternly. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but I have no idea how I got here, and Rose Stone is just a name where I come from. There are probably dozens of women called Rose Stone.”

“But you are the only one who had the courage to answer,” said Danya. “Recently, drummers have noted a change in the Rose Stone. The messages are harder to comprehend, and breach warnings come suddenly with little time to prepare. More carvers have made it through, and we don’t know why.”

“I’m sorry,” I said, truthfully. “I don’t have answers for you.”

Griffin leaned toward me. “The Rose Stone is at Stone Keep. Chancellor Emlyn is the leader of the ruling council for the Commonwealth. Please, come with us to speak to her. These are dire times. You’ve seen the carvers. The Commonwealth needs the wisdom of the Rose Stone more than ever.”

“I told you,” I said. “It’s nothing but a name, and I’m only an artist. Nobody special.” I rolled my eyes. “And certainly not wise.”

“You are mistaken,” said Griffin. His gently chiding tone caused my heart to skip a beat. “Artists have great insight. Others look at a bare sheet of paper and see nothing, but an artist’s vision sees beyond and finds a whole world waiting to be brought to life.”

“Perhaps that’s why you were called and why you chose to answer,” said Danya. “We sought you, but in your own manner, you also searched for us.”

This world now had an intriguing backstory. I glanced at Griffin and felt a flush rise to my cheeks, so turned my head and pretended to gaze at the garden as I considered delving deeper into the Commonwealth of the Rose. What was the harm? After all, I had a painting to finish, and more inspiration was always helpful. Since I was stuck in an MRI tube under the influence of medication, I could enjoy this dream world until reality elbowed it aside.

And if I don’t wake up?

I suppressed a shudder. Would it be so awful to pass away in an imaginary world during one last grand adventure instead of flat on my back staring at acoustic tiles on a hospital ceiling? I had a sudden determination to make every minute count while the clock ticked down. “I’ll talk to Chancellor Emlyn.” I leaned over and rubbed my leg.

“You are in pain,” said Griffin.

“No, it’s just a little stiff. I feel good and not wobbly which is helpful since I didn’t pack my cane. Those new meds from Dr. Turner must be working.”

Danya touched a hand to my cheek. “This is not the carver’s doing. You have a deep-rooted illness.”

I gave a bitter laugh. “Yeah, you’d think I’d be smart enough to hallucinate away the tumor once I got here.”

“Tumor,” she murmured. “Your healers can’t help?”

“They’re trying. In reality, I’m in an MRI tube right now. That’s why I’m wearing hospital scrubs…” They stared at me blankly. “Never mind. It’s not important, and I don’t want to discuss it. Maybe we should leave immediately,” I added with forced cheerfulness. “I could wake at any time.”

Griffin’s expression softened. “I was unaware of the depths of your illness.”

“I’m fine for the moment and want to go.”

“Rest now,” said Griffin. “We’ll leave at first light.”

“I’ll come with you, Captain, to see that Lady Jess is well-tended,” said Danya. “The other drummers can handle my duties. We must make haste for time is against us. She may stay in my healing chamber tonight. I’ll drum a message to the order at Stone Keep telling Chancellor Emlyn our plans to depart in the morning.”

“Very well.” Griffin turned to me and gave a slight bow. “I leave you in Danya’s excellent care.” He paused as if hunting for the right words. “I’m pleased you returned.”

“Me, too.” My gaze followed him as he left the garden.

“We are fortunate Griffin commands High Point Garrison,” said Danya. “He’s an exceptional captain. What do you think of him?”

Her tone hinted at hidden meaning. “Well, we’ve only met, but I’d say he’s a strong leader.”

“An honorable man, too. Interesting that his voice led you to the drumming path.”

“Yes, well, go figure,” I said in a hurry. “Speaking of drumming, may I watch while you send the message?”

“Of course.”

To my relief, she didn’t probe further about Griffin, but instead went inside and returned a moment later with a drum. Evidently, Danya noted my curiosity and held it out to me. “Touch it, if you wish.”

The drum wasn’t large, four inches deep, and the size of a dinner plate with a strap to sling it across a shoulder. The casing was wood, intricately carved and dyed with representations of lyrs, warbirds, and a variety of plant life. A tan leather skin stretched over the top. The color was lighter in the center, as if a hand struck the area many times. The surface was smooth to the touch, almost velvet, with a slight sensation of heat. I flicked my finger in the middle and it responded with a low reverberant thrummm. Goosebumps skittered along my spine.

“It’s beautiful,” I said. “Who made it?”

Danya looked pleased. “I did. Drummers build their instrument during training.”

“You’re an artist, too.”

“Drummers have many skills.” Danya took back the drum and ran a finger lovingly on the striking surface. Although I didn’t hear a sound, my skin tingled as if in response to a static charge. “The act of creation forms a connection,” she said. “When the design is right, the drum calls, and pathways to the mystic roads open. The drummer can then sense the formation of a breach, send messages to others in the order, or even harness the strength of the Rose Stone to aid a patient’s healing.”

“You carved a lyr and warbird on the casing.”

“Yes. The drum didn’t answer until I realized I was called to serve the Rose Guard. Since then, we have been bound to the order.”

Danya went to the center of the garden. Her eyes closed, and her fingers began rhythmically tapping. She whispered a low, sing-song chant, and without conscious thought, my body swayed to the beat. Her hand moved slowly at first to one part of the drumskin, then the other. The beat quickened and slowed as if she searched for the right tempo. A rush of heat brushed against me, and the tap became a thump. Danya beat the drum with urgency that sent the vibrations to the tips of my toes. Light danced off her fingertips. Images and words flashed through my mind. Most went by in a blur, but I caught a few of me, Griffin, danger, and the Rose Stone.

The tapping ended abruptly, and the air stilled. Danya’s shoulders sagged. Drumming obviously took a toll. “They have heard.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, but I will go to my chambers now and prepare for tomorrow’s journey. I’ll have dinner sent, and then you should rest as well.”

Danya left, and a servant arrived soon after with a tray. No stew this time, but cooked grain with roasted meat and vegetables. Hallucination or not, I enjoyed every bite. The servant returned to clear the dishes. “May I get you anything else, my lady?”

I flexed my fingers, pleased the pain remained at bay. “If it’s not too much trouble, I have the urge to draw.”

“Paper and ink?”

“Yes, thanks. That’s perfect.”

She left with the dishes and returned with sheets of paper, an inkpot, and a pen. Not a felt-tip or fountain pen, but one with a metal nib. Surface tension held the ink until released by gentle pressure. I hesitated considering my unsteady hand, but I was rock-solid at the moment and shoved misgivings aside, eager for the feel of the pen once more.

Enough light remained to draw so I sat at the table, enjoying the peaceful surroundings, and got to work. I roughed out Griffin and me on Cirrus. A comforting tactile sensation flowed into my fingers as the ink glided across the paper with smooth, controlled strokes. I’d forgotten what it was like to work without the shakes.

“You have a deft hand.”

The pen jerked. So involved in the art, I didn’t hear Griffin enter the garden.

“Forgive me,” he said in a rush. “I didn’t mean to startle you and ruin the drawing.”

I looked down at the paper where a blot of ink had dripped from the nib. “You didn’t.” I felt a flush crawl up my neck. “It’s only a study and nothing special.”

His gaze went from the drawing to me. “You’re wrong. It’s beautiful and very special.”

The flush reached my cheeks. They were scalding hot.

Griffin cleared his throat. “I wanted to make certain you were comfortable here.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Well, then I’ll leave you to your art.”

“You can have it,” I blurted, offering the drawing to him.

“Thank you,” he said, taking it from me. “I’ll treasure it.”

My mind desperately searched for a topic to continue the conversation but froze at the penetrating gaze of his deep brown eyes. I jumped up and said, “It’s kind of you to check on me.”

Griffin smiled. “Abril will be by in the morning with attire suitable for the journey.”

I chuckled and gave a little twirl with my hands on my hips. “What? You don’t like these?”

He laughed. “Indeed, they are most becoming, but perhaps riding leathers will be more comfortable in a saddle.”

“Hey, you laugh,” I said lightly. “I didn’t think you knew how. It’s nice to hear.”

“There has been little reason lately.” The good humor faded from his expression. “This is a dangerous world, Jess. I’m sorry you were brought here.”

My breath quickened. “I’m not. I want to help but have no idea what to do.” The words stuck in my throat. “I-I’m afraid you expect too much of me, and I’m afraid of what will happen to you if I fail.”

He took my hand between his. “This world is not yours. That you are willing to try to help is enough.”

Say something clever! Keep him here. “Thanks.” I gave an inner groan.

We stood there as seconds ticked away. Griffin seemed on the verge of speaking, but my mind went completely blank. He dropped my hand. “Goodnight, Jess. Sleep well.”

I watched him leave, still searching for a logical way to call him back. Naturally, as soon as the door shut, a raft of clever, flirty phrases came to mind. I leaned against the table and this time, groaned aloud. “I am totally hopeless.”

I doused the lamp, and slipped under the bedcovers, still feeling the sensation of Griffin’s hand on mine. I shut my eyes, tired, ready to sleep, but anxiety clutched my heart. What if the dream ended, and I woke in the hospital? “Stay here,” I murmured. “Don’t go.” It occurred to me then that’s exactly what I should have said to Griffin.