The Ogham Keeper

The quartz stylus pressed into Elowen's palm.

She traced invisible ogham characters across the parchment.

Her grandmother's voice echoed in memory.

Each stroke formed a letter no one else could read.

The monastery bell tolled vespers beyond the scriptorium walls.

Elowen twisted a lock of hair around her finger.

She worked alone in the cramped chamber.

Parchment stacks pressed against cold stone.

Narrow windows filtered light through colored glass.

Dust motes danced in the beams.

The door crashed open.

Her stylus cut into her skin.

King Banadl filled the doorway.

Two guards flanked him.

Their torches smoked and stung her eyes.

Banadl's gaze fixed on the parchment.

He strode forward.

His boots crushed the scattered rushes.

"What have we here?"

Elowen scraped her chair back.

Her hand covered the ogham marks.

"I—I was only practicing my Latin, my lord."

Banadl gripped her wrist.

His fingers dug into her flesh.

He forced her hand aside.

The ogham characters lay exposed.

"Not Latin."

He leaned closer.

The torchlight caught the angular scores.

"These marks. The old script."

Elowen's heart hammered against her ribs.

She couldn't meet his eyes.

"My grandmother taught me, before she—"

"Enough."

Banadl released her.

He paced the small room.

The wolveskin cloak swept behind him.

"The Wroxeter Stone."

He whirled to face her.

"You know what it says."

Elowen traced invisible ogham on her palm.

She'd visited the stone once with her grandmother.

The prophecy waited there.

"I do not understand it, my lord."

Banadl's hand found his sword hilt.

"You will."

He gestured to his guards.

They moved to block the door.

"Dawn approaches."

He stepped into her space.

Smoke from his torch filled her lungs.

"Decipher the prophecy."

His voice dropped low.

"Or face the fire as a witch."

The door opened again.

Brother Caelum entered.

He carried fresh candles.

His eyes took in the scene.

The king's hand on his sword.

The guards blocking exit.

Elowen's pale face.

Caelum's thumb rubbed his silver crucifix.

He set the candles on the table.

"My king."

His voice remained steady.

"How may I serve?"

Banadl studied the monk.

"The scribe has work to do."

He turned back to Elowen.

"Do not disappoint me."

The king departed.

His guards followed.

The door clicked shut.

Caelum released his breath.

He met Elowen's terrified gaze.

"The stone." He spoke softly. "We must go tonight."