Penarddun had halted upon first sight of the structure and Tam Nok and Ragnarok flanked her. It was difficult to tell at this distance but it looked to Ragnarok like a much larger version of the stone monuments that the Vikings would erect on the burial mounds of one of their leaders. Numerous large stones were set in the Earth, with other stones on top bridging the open space between them. There were two circles of stones, the outer about a hundred feet in diameter. There appeared to be a road leading off between banks to the northeast where the land dipped down slightly, indicating there was probably a river or stream.
“What is this place?” Tam Nok asked.
“The holiest of our places,” Penarddun said, as they continued forward. “It is now called Stonehenge. No one knows how old it is. It was here long before the Romans came.
“Some say the Ancients built it when they first came here. That is what I believe. Who else could have moved the stones? Some come from the Preslie Mountains over two hundred and forty miles away. Some, I think, from over the sea, in the land of the Irish, from a place known as the Dance of the Giants in Killarus.”
Ragnarok had landed in Eire Land several times and they were as strange a people as the Britons. But he doubted either had the ability to move such large stones, especially across the water between the two islands. Even one of those stones would probably sink the stoutest longship. And why would anyone go to such trouble?
“There are some who say the stones did not even originate in Eire Land. That they came from a dark land far to the south of even Rome and Greece, a land where the people’s skin was black and many strange creatures walked the Earth.” Penarddun continued. “Who could have done such a marvelous thing? Even an army of the strongest men like your Viking friend could not move one of the larger stones.
“Others talk of high priests and priestesses. A man, one of the earliest of our order, named Myrddinn Wyllt in the old tongue, Merlin in the new, is said to have brought the inner ring of stones here by floating them in the air.”
Ragnarok would have laughed but he remembered the Valkyrie flying through the air and seizing Thorlak. Perhaps this Merlin was not human either, Ragnarok thought.
“Merlin was one of the first of our order that we know of,” Penarddun continued. “Many now talk of him as a legend, a man of magic and spells, but he was more a seer, one who could see over the lines of time forward and back. The Christians call him a demon, but he was no demon. He was one who had a link to the Ancients and the Ones Before.
The stone structure was now a quarter mile away. Ragnarok looked about, half-expecting to see Valkyries swooping out of the sky, but all was still except for the noise of the clothes through the grass and their feet on the ground.
“The stones do heal, I know that,” Penarddun said, “because I have seen it.”
The monument was very close now. The ground dipped slightly, a small trench circling the entire thing. Then they passed through a ring of holes dug into the ground. Ragnarok wanted to look in the nearest hole, but the women didn’t pause.
The outer circle of standing stones was over four times Ragnarok’s height. He felt dwarfed and insignificant as he walked under the lintel stone that went from one standing stone to the other.
Inside was another circle, five taller pairs of standing stones, also topped with lintels that left an opening toward the northeast. Penarddun paused under a lintel stone, not going into the center, horseshoe shaped clearing. Ragnarok felt cold, as if the air had gone chill. He did not want to go any further. There was a strange power here, he had no doubt of that. He had raided several churches and had felt some of the power of the Christian God inside them, but that was nothing compared to the sense he was getting here.
In the very center was a small stone, about three feet high by two in circumference. Unlike the larger stones which all had rough surfaces, this stone was carved smooth, a perfect pillar. From the open end of the horseshoe, a path went straight out toward the northeast, the road Ragnarok had spied earlier. The dirt in the path was worn down by generations of feet.
“What you seek should be under that,” Penarddun said. “We call it the memory stone.
“No one has dared touch that stone for as long as it is remembered among the Druids.” She waved her hand about. “We worship here, but go no further than where I am standing. After purification in the River Avon we come up the Processional Way- there is a stone in the midst of the pathway- the heelstone, which is a warning against coming that way for those who are not believers.
“When the midsummer sun comes up, it is on line with the memory stone, highlighting and then casting the longest shadow possible toward the sunset stones-” she gestured at the pair of tall stones they were between.
“The legend is that the memory stone was placed here by the ancient ones when they first came here fleeing the Shadow. That the stone is not to be disturbed until it is time.”
“Is the time now?” Tam Nok asked.
“You should know the answer to that,” Penarddun said.
“The Shadow is growing,” Tam Nok said. “I saw it over Angkor Kol Ker, my people’s city that was destroyed by the Shadow. I saw it in other places as I traveled here. In the high mountains north of India was a place of the Shadow. In the vast emptiness of the land of the steppe riders, there was another. Along the shore of the Norsemen, there was a place of shadow. It was the same in all four places. The Shadow is darker now than it has been in living memory. The words handed down among my people is that when the Shadow becomes black, the end is near. The same was the belief of those who lived near the other places of Shadow I passed. There were some differences in the legends and story but the core was the same.
“The Earth is unquiet in places. It trembles and shakes. Mountains of fire are rumbling, in some places bringing forth burning rock. I have traveled far and across many lands and it is true everywhere. The only thing that can stop the Shadow from taking over the rest of the world is the Shield left us by the Ones Before. My search for that weapon has led me here, so I must believe it is time.”
Ragnarok didn’t think it was time to go forward- he thought a hasty retreat back to his ship was long overdue. He felt a trickle of sweat roll down his left temple, a strange thing given the unnatural chill in the air.
Tam Nok walked into the very center of Stonehenge and up to the memory stone. She placed her hands on it. She knelt, hands wrapped around the stone, her head against it as if listening.
Ragnarok fidgeted, nervous with the ponderous weight of the lintel stone above his head. There was a dull glow on the horizon, in the direction the horseshoe opened to. Dawn was not far off.
Tam Nok stood and waved for them to come forward. Ragnarok would have preferred to go in any other direction but he knew he could not show fear in front of the women. He walked forward, his feet dragging as if in deep sand.
“We must lift the stone,” Tam Nok said.
Ragnarok noted there were strange, very faint, carvings in the top of the stone. “What does that say?”
“I do not know,” Tam Nok said.
“I thought you could read the writings of the ancients?”
“I can, but this is something different.”
“How are you sure then that we should disturb this?” Ragnarok asked.
“I paid you,” Tam Nok said. “Lift the stone.”
“You paid me to bring you here,” Ragnarok said.
Tam Nok pulled her hood back and turned to stare at the Viking. Her almond eyes searched his. Ragnarok took a step back.