Stone Heart: Tales of The Order

Genres: Fantasy action & adventure; Fairy Tales, Folk Tales, Legends & Mythology; Magical Realism; Action & Adventure Romance; Paranormal Romance

Synopsis

“I shall not forget what you have done. Not ever or ever.”

Three hundred years ago, Angus MacGregor was the most feared and hated man in his village. Appalled by his lack of
compassion, the Sorceress of the Ancients turned him into a statue that was as ugly as his demeanor, condemning him to miserable solitude in a stone prison. Unbeknownst to them, however, one of his rare strokes of kindness would be the key to his freedom.

Karen Matthews' strong spirit is no longer enough to sustain her weakening body. She knows she doesn't have long to live, but she's determined to fulfill her beloved aunt's unusual last wish. And while she's off on this bizarre quest, she might as well enjoy the adventure. What she doesn't count on is the existence of a magical Order, where fairies, elves and Druids exist, and freely practice magic. Neither does she expect to meet Angus, or to uncover the endless depths of his heart.

This is the third book in the Tales of The Order (TM) fantasy series beginning with Gryphon's Quest and The Gazing Globe.

Release date: July 31, 2018

Publisher: Candace Sams

Print pages: 356

Content advisory: Very little sexual content. Rated PG. Content heavy with Action/Adventure Romantic Elements

Sample

Chapter 1 Scotland

Three hundred years ago

 

“Get out of my way you stupid, useless idiot!” Angus yelled as he swung a half-empty tankard of ale at the serving boy. “You are not worth the mud I kick off my boots.”

“Here now, there’s no call to be talking to the lad like that. He cannot help it he is slow,” the tavern owner defended.

“Hold your whist, old man, or you will take the beating meant for him!”

The tavern owner stepped back and shook his head. “You are as mean a curse as ever beset the world, Angus MacGregor. You will be punished for your brutish ways.”

“And who will do the punishing, old fool? You?” Angus dropped his head back and finished the last of the bitter ale. Raising his forearm, he swiped the foam from his lips and pushed the tavern boy to the floor. “Keep this half-wit cripple out of my way, or I will make sure he never fouls my presence again.”

The boy scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as his twisted left leg would allow. One of the serving wenches wrapped her arms around the tiny figure when he stumbled into her. She glanced back at the man who had frightened the boy, muttering a rude oath under her breath. Then she, the child, and the tavern owner walked away before the big man found another excuse to lose his ready temper.

Angus watched their retreat as he pulled a chair toward his frame. He slowly turned the heavy wooden seat backwards and straddled it, eyeing anyone else in the room who might make a complaint.

Everyone in town knew which table in the tavern was his. They knew the time of day he used it, and that no one got in his way when he had a thirst. In fact, no one got in his way—ever. He went where he wished and did as he liked to anyone or anything. That was the advantage of being strong, and of being feared.

The other patrons in the tavern turned away. They pretended not to care what was going on. Everyone had learned to leave The MacGregor alone and let him have his way. To do otherwise courted the chance of a horrible beating, and many of them had already been on the receiving end of his hard, right fist.

He glanced around at the crowd hoping to find anyone who would dare challenge his power. As far as he was concerned, the town and its surrounding countryside might be owned by the local farmers and merchants, but he was in control. People stepped out of his way when he approached. If he wanted the few coins they carried, he took them. If they had food, horses or clothing he needed, these became his without question, when he raised his sword. There was no need for any other weapon but a strong right arm and a fearsome countenance. He knew how to use both.

Why?

Because none of them had ever done one thing for him. So, he gladly returned the favor.

***

Maeve Donald, the current Sorceress of the Ancients, pulled her cloak more tightly about her frame, and sat in the corner of the tavern sipping her grog. She watched and waited, making sure MacGregor could not sense her presence. All that she had seen thus far bore proof to the tales she heard. He was a bullying savage, and she knew what had to be done, though she was unsure how to go about it.

Currently, MacGregor was distracted by a raven-haired girl of sultry beauty. The young woman walked from the back of the tavern to where the big, bullying brute sat, then stood behind him twisting her long fingers together as if the nervous action would give her courage. The expression she wore was one of anxiety and fear.

Finally, the girl moved to stand in front of MacGregor. She took a deep breath and spoke in a trembling voice that plainly relayed her stress. Maeve was in a position to hear everything and to follow MacGregor, wherever he might go. She watched silently as the scene unfolded.

***

“Angus, I must speak wi’ you,” the girl pleaded.

Angus smiled slowly. He put his hand on the girl’s shoulder and slowly slid it down to her left breast. Regardless of those who might see, he caressed her as he raised his mug for a passing wench to refill.

“I have been wondering where you were, Bridget. My bed could use warming this night.”

She pushed his hand away and stepped closer. “Please, Angus. Can we not’ go outside where we can talk in private?”

“Aye, lass. If that is what you want. We can…talk,” Angus said, emphasizing the last word suggestively. Then, he rose to follow Bridget outside.

When she was sure they were far enough from the tavern, she spoke. “Angus, I have an urgent need to speak wi’ you. I…I have missed my monthly time. I fear our dallying might have me wi’ child.”

“Your dallying might have you with anyone’s child, girl. What is that to me?” He leaned back against a nearby tether rail and grinned. Her problem was not his.

“Angus,” she gasped, “I have ne’er laid wi’ a man but you. You know that.”

“I know I was the first. Doubtless not the last. But whether you are with child or not, we can make use of the night.” He grinned and reached for her, his body already responding to his need.

“Do you not care for your own babe? Do you care not more for me than to use me as a common whore? I thought…I thought…”

“You thought what, you little tart! Did you think I wanted more than the few nights we shared? Did you believe that I loved you? That I cared for you?”

The girl recoiled at his sneering comments and winced as his harsh laughter filled the air.

“No,” she muttered, “you bedded me only to serve your rutting needs. You never cared for me at all. I see that now. How could I have been so blind?”

“How indeed? Did I ever promise you anything, Bridget? Did I ever even say I wanted more than the heat between your legs, you stupid wench?”

She shook her head as tears streamed down her cheeks. “But what am I to do? Where will I go? The townspeople will turn me away.”

“Here,” he said as he reached inside a leather pouch tied to his belt, “never let it be said that Angus MacGregor did not pay a willing whore her due.”

“You are made of stone, Angus MacGregor,” she spat out. “Your heart is rock. One day, I hope someone hurts and defiles you as you have done to me.”

He tossed the coins to the ground in front of the girl, cruelly laughed then walked away.

***

The sorceress had seen enough. She had followed them out the tavern door and stood in the shadows cast by the clouded night sky. She watched as Bridget put her hands over her face and ran, crying, into the darkness.

Maeve knew it would take time to follow Angus. She was getting on in years and could not move as she once did. Plus, MacGregor was a monstrously large, with a lengthy stride. Still, follow him she would. The girl’s comment had given her the idea for the judgment that would come.

“The punishment will fit the deed,” Maeve whispered. “So Mote It Be.”

***

Angus made his way to his mount. He had suffered enough clumsy tavern urchins and whining whores for the night. It was time to get back to his camp.

Unlike the farmers and tradesmen, he disliked sleeping beneath a roof. Especially if there was no soft body to share his bed.

What did he care if the trollop carried his by-blow? If it was his at all.

If it fared no better than he had, why should he care?

The townspeople had made him what he was, so let them deal with his vengeance. Bridget’s recently deceased parents would not have given him a scrap of bread when he was a small lad. Why should he show their daughter any mercy?

He let his mount find its own way out of town. The horse knew the road well enough. The ale and bad company were taking their toll. He was nearly asleep in his saddle when he heard soft crying coming from the road’s edge.

He reined in his mount and let his keen senses search out the darkness for the source.

Then, he saw her.

The little girl could not have been more than six years of age, and she was standing near the roadside clutching a ragged cloak about her too-slim body. He turned his horse in her direction and stopped when he was but a short distance away.

“What ails you, little fleabag? Why are you out in the night air and not abed?”

At the sound of his roughly phrased question, the little girl raised her tear-stained face. “He took my Holly from me.”

“Someone took a shrubbery from you, and you are weeping over it?”

“No, sir.  Holly is my kitten. He took her.” She began to weep harder.

Angus dismounted and stood over the girl. “Explain.”

“I…I stole a piece of bread from the baker’s shop and ran. But the baker followed me to the barn where I sleep. He took my kitten away to punish me. He said he was going to put her in a sack and drown her in a pond. To teach me a lesson.”

Against his nature and better judgment, Angus felt a place in his heart twist.

An old wound there opened.

Once upon a time he had been like that little girl, and he remembered a soft brown puppy which had perished under the wheels of the careless baker’s cart.

He softened the tone of his voice. “Where are your parents, waif?”

“They died when everyone was so ill this winter past. Please, do not let him drown my Holly. She is all I have, and I am so afraid.”

The little girl threw herself at one of his legs and clung to him like the night dew. Some of the granite wall around Angus’s cold heart crumbled a bit. Though why he should give a damn he could not imagine.

“What is your name?”

“Elspeth,” she told him in a tiny voice.

“Wait right here, Elspeth. Do not move. Understand?”

After she nodded, Angus mounted his horse and rode toward the baker’s cottage. It was only a short distance away.

If he was too late, perhaps he could give the child a coin to make up for the loss of her beast. Again, he questioned himself as to why he should care. No one had concerned themselves about him and his losses when he was that age. But something made him want to try to help this child.

When light from the baker’s window came into view, he dismounted and walked to the door. He raised his fist, pounded on the thick wooden door, and was rewarded with cursing coming from within. It seemed the baker had been about to find rest for the night. So much the better. The man would get a thrashing as well as no sleep.

The man, well fed in his own right and who was known to everyone, opened the door with a crash.

“What in the name of creation do you—”

Angus grabbed the baker by his bedclothes and dragged him out of his cottage, into the night air.

“Where is the beast you took from the little girl, you slovenly ass?”

“I…what…MacGregor! It is y-you!” the man spluttered.

“I will not repeat myself, you lazy, addled fool,” Angus ground out between clenched teeth. “Where is the beast you sought to drown? The one you took from the little girl?”

“In…in yon barn. The night was too dense with fog for me to safely find my way to the pond.”

“You may consider your life saved by that fact, you oaf. And, in future…do not ever hurt that little girl or her beast again. If you do, you will answer to me. If she hungers, you will feed her the bread she needs. Do you understand?”

“Aye, MacGregor!”

“Aye, what, you mindless coward?” He shook the man to make his point.

“I will not touch the girl or her beast. Not ever.”

“And?”

“And I will see she that does not want for food.”

The baker trembled and cringed as he was dropped from his attacker’s grasp.

“Good,” Angus snapped. “Now get out of my sight before I tie you in an old flour sack and throw you in a pond!”

Angus pushed the man into a nearby mud puddle, then laughed as the baker scrambled to his feet, and found his way back to the safety of his cottage.

When the door of the dwelling slammed behind the baker, Angus turned and strode to the barn. He jerked the door open and was met with soft, frightened mews. The kitten, as the little girl had said, was tied in a sack and waiting for its watery fate.

He grabbed the sack, returned to his horse and mounted. Within a short time, he was back where he left Elspeth. She looked up at him and smiled when she heard the frightened animal crying.

After dismounting, Angus untied the sack, pulled out the tiny gray bundle and gently handed it to its mistress. It purred loud and strong at being delivered back into the arms of one who kept it well.

“Thank you, MacGregor! Oh, thank you! I shall not forget what you have done. Not ever or ever!”

“You know my name, lassie?”

“Aye. Everyone knows you. They say you are a brute and a bully. But I do not believe them. I think you are the most bravest man I have ever known,” she childishly misspoke. “And I shall not forget what you have done. Not ever.”

Angus was unaccustomed to such a declaration and, though childishly made, it was sincere. He was uncertain how to take it. She had unknowingly insulted while heaping praise.

The little girl pulled upon the hem of his jerkin. Instinctively, he bent down to see what she wanted, and received a small kiss upon one of his unshaven cheeks. Then, clutching her kitten, the child ran off toward the village.

At that exact moment the clouds seemed to fly away. The moon shimmered brightly. As he watched the child’s flight away from him, he saw her golden curls glisten in its light. For an instant, he smiled.

Then the old hatred came back, and he cursed himself for being all kinds of a fool. Why should I care?

He quickly turned, mounted his horse and rode to his campsite. He should not have become involved in the matter. The only things that concerned him were those that could increase his power or wealth. He had wasted good sleep over an incident which had gained him neither.

After arriving at his camp, he settled himself near the circle of stones that served as a fire pit. He tuned his senses to make sure no one was near, then raised his hands and uttered the ancient spell of making.

A bright blaze suddenly came alive in the pit.

His magic would keep the fire burning all night and assure warm sleep. A deerskin served as a blanket and would also help ward off the dew. Now that the clouds had blown away, the night promised to be cold.

He raised his hands to the blaze, to warm them, and felt a strange sensation. Another of his own kind was near.

He quickly threw off his covering and stood, gazing into the darkness.

“I know you are there. Show yourself!” he commanded. “What is your name and what do you want?”

“Who I am does not matter so much. You already know why I am here,” Maeve told him as she pushed back the hood of her cloak and walked toward the firelight.

“Ah, one of the Order! Others have come, and I have defeated them all. Why do you people keep troubling me?” he said, as he crossed his arms over his chest and stared at the woman.

“The ones who came before told me how strong you are, Angus MacGregor. Do not think, however, that you will send me away like a whipped pup…as you have all the rest. This time you will be punished for the misuse of your power. The only reason you have not been destroyed is because you have kept your powers secret from the village folk. They do not yet know that you have used magic against them, for your own purpose.”

Angus smiled. “I do not know what you speak about, old woman. Be quick about your business so that I may send you back to the Order as I have the others. The night grows cold and I am weary.”

“You are a liar, MacGregor. You know exactly what I speak of. Do not play the buffoon with me. You may not know my name, but you do know that I am Sorceress of the Ancients. You also knew that I would eventually find you when the others I sent could not do as I bid them.”

Angus dropped his careless facade and bellowed in anger. “I do not care that you are the sorceress! Your laws do not apply to me since I have never gained benefit from them. The Order cast out my parents and left them to die among the village people. The Order left me to fend for myself among sheep-witted peasants who could not find it in their miserly hearts to give succor or food to the child I was. And they have paid for it since.”

“We did not know your parents would take you when we cast them out, Angus. They had been ordered to leave you behind. In that way, we meant for them to reconsider the harm they might do in telling outsiders about us. There are many children in the Order whose safety depends upon secrecy. The outside world kills its own kind without any conscience. What might they do to themselves and us if they were able to harness our collective magical powers? What did they do in the distant past, when they knew that such power existed? You know that ancient history. It has become all but myth now, but I know your parents taught it to you!” She paused. “Your parents did not well consider any of this, despite so many attempts to—”

“So, I was to be a hostage against my parents’ mingling with outsiders?”

“We were trying to get them to see reason and reconsider,” she repeated. “As to leaving your safety to chance, when we found out you were missing, we sent emissaries to find where your mother and father had hidden you. My people only then discovered that your kin had died in the disease-ridden countryside. Goddess be thanked, they never had the chance to convince outsiders of our existence!” She shook her head. “By then, you had become as wild as the winter wind. You had already learned how to fight, steal and bully those around you. No amount of diplomacy worked. We tried to help you, to bring you back into our midst. You know that. Do not place blame where it is not due.”

“Bah!” Angus shouted, rudely gesturing with the middle finger of his right hand. “Your emissaries cared nothing for me. They only came because they feared I would use my Druid powers, and let the world know about the Order. I can only imagine the chaos that would befall all of you if your precious world were revealed to mankind. If it became known that an Order of fairies, Druids and goblins lived in the nearby woods, the villagers might have had soldiers sent to hunt you down like the weak prey you are. But my parents wanted contact with the villagers, to try to make them understand who and what the Order is…they wanted the regular folk to know that magical creatures existed nearby and meant no harm.”

“That could never be allowed, Angus. You must know that,” the old woman insisted. “By our laws, your parents could have been put to death for their attempts to reveal their magic to the outside world. Instead, we tried to show compassion…we let them live in banishment.”

“You should have saved your compassion!” Angus growled. “The very same villagers my family tried to befriend let them starve. My parents had no coin with which to buy food. Too weak to fight off the illness that ravages the countryside each winter, they died within hours of each other. I had to dig the holes in which to bury them. I was but a young boy, Sorceress. Where was your precious Order then? Where were you when I fought for every scrap of food I could find?”

“Your parents should have left you behind, as they were ordered—”

“What decent parent would leave their child, old woman?” he demanded. “I remember the day they were banished from the Order though I was barely past my fifth year.” He sneered in contempt. “I owe you, the Order, and these cursed villagers nothing. Nothing! You cast my parents out of the only home they had ever known. And the villagers would not even acknowledge that they lay dying in a hovel. My mother and father were without food or warm clothing. None of you ever cared a whit for the child my parents left behind. So, I learned how to take what would not be offered to me.”

“And to make the lives of everyone around you a misery?” she asked. “Is this also what you learned, MacGregor?”

“Yes. All this I did learn. And I learned it so well that I now command the town and everyone in it. They fear me as they fear nothing else that exists. I take what I want, and no one stands in my way. They are shown the same mercy they showed my parents and me. And as for the Order…that misbegotten horde of magical ingrates can rot. I care nothing for any of you!”

Maeve bowed her head and sighed. “Part of what you say is the truth, MacGregor. We should have been more tenacious in our efforts to bring you back to the Order. But, every time I sent someone, you fought them so very hard. There are few enough of us as it is. I could not risk grievous injury or the death of any of my people.” She paused. “Still, it was poorly done of us to leave you alone. Now, your hatred and the way you use your magic to run this village…you have become quite dangerous.”

“These simple-minded fools know not that I use magic. Mostly, I use these.” He held up his two fists and shook them. “They are what these mindless peasants best understand. I only use magic to ruin a crop or two when someone will not pay me what I demand.”

“And you think what you do is just, and that the village folk do not make a connection between you and the loss of their livelihood?”

“What if they do? They still know not that I am a Druid. Or that the Order exists. Let them think me a black witch or demon. I care not.”

“It is a wonder that you have not told them about us outright. Why have you not?”

Angus smiled. “They are ignorant and frightened by that which they do not understand. If I told them about the Order and they believed me, they would pack up in horror, and move to distant places rather than tolerate trolls and gnomes living in the woodlands so near their homes. And if the people left, I could not have the vengeance against them that is due me. It is better to let them think I am the most powerful being that ever besieged them.” He grinned. “I may one day be powerful enough to come back to your Order and avenge my parents. As I have avenged them by terrorizing these simple fools.” He waved one hand to encompass the countryside and those in it.

He saw the sorceress’s eyes narrow and knew he had gone too far. Still, he did not fear her. If she had wanted him dead, her minions would have been sent to do the deed long ago. Or she’d have done it with magic, before approaching his camp. There would be no talk of bringing him back to the Order.

“I hold my temper no longer, Angus MacGregor. I am here to pass judgment. You misuse your powers in the world and would threaten the very Order from which you came. Your hatred has left nothing of your heart but a blackened abyss. I can find no redeeming quality in you. And the worst of it is, your parents had so much love in them that they wanted to share their magic with the world. Even though they knew such a thing was not allowed, they were willing to risk their very lives in their cause. As noble as their purpose may have been, I cannot approve what they did. But I can admire their courage.” She shook her head. “You have shamed them and their efforts. They would have hated the man you have become, and you are dangerous. So…I must pass judgment upon you.”

She raised her arms and began to speak in Gaelic. “Clach, clach,” she chanted, summoning the ancient magic.

Words as old as time then wove a spell around the place where they stood.

The fog, which had earlier disappeared, now reappeared and circled the campsite. Though it grew colder, the wind did not blow. No creature made a sound.

For the first time since he was a child, Angus knew fear.

He felt iciness creep over him.

It began at his feet, then moved up his legs.

He was unable to move or speak as the sorceress turned him to stone.

Each second that elapsed seemed like an eternity as he grew more and more frigid. He even thought he would freeze.

Perhaps that was what the sorceress intended to do; to kill him with the frosty air that penetrated the deepest part of his lungs.

Soon, his sight dimmed and failed. He wanted to cry out in rage and horror. But that was a luxury denied to him.

He still heard the sorceress’s chants, but he could do nothing to stop her. His magic was not as strong as hers, and the spell had come upon him too suddenly.

“As it was with your parents, I do not have it in my heart to destroy you,” she told him. “I acknowledge that part of what you have become is due to my negligence.” She paused as she regarded her handiwork. “You will exist as you are, able to hear all that occurs around you, but never be able to see or respond. If, on the three-hundredth anniversary of this enchantment, one soul will come forward and utter the exact same words used to bewitch you, then the spell will be broken. Perhaps, in that time, you can learn how truly evil hatred is. Since you have not endeared yourself to a single being, I fully expect you will spend eternity as you are. A statue of stone. Hideous in appearance, devoid of any friendship, love or contact.”

***

The sorceress turned and walked away.

Her head hung, and her shoulders slumped.

It would have been less cruel to kill him outright. But the spell was cast, and her job was done. She made her way back to the forest from which she came.

***

A long time later, nearby bushes began to rustle.

Elspeth walked forward and stood before the horrifying statue. She tilted her head to gaze up at the monstrosity that had once been a man. A man who was much feared and hated. But, she was not afraid. Nor did she hate.

“I heard everything. I stayed very still and listened,” she softly murmured. “What the old magic woman said was not true. You are not a bad man.”

She knelt and placed a wilted object at the foot of the statue.

“I ran back from town to bring you a flower. I picked it days ago. I am sorry it is not so pretty as when it was in the ground. I kept it because…I thought it would bring me luck And, it did. It brought me you.”

She stood and backed away.

 “I promise, I will not forget you. You saved my Holly. And I will not forget. Not ever. We “The old witch is gone now. So, do not be afraid.” She clasped her hands together. will always be friends.”

She left with that promise still ringing in the air.

The night had grown colder, and the wind had begun to blow. But Elspeth was determined to come back every day, to talk to her new friend.

Even though he could never answer back, she would come. It was a promise she made, in exchange for the small life he had saved.

She repeated the words of the spell over and over as she walked. She had to remember all of them, exactly right. She had to keep her promise.

***

Elspeth came back the next day, and every day thereafter. For years.

She spoke of life in the village and how everyone wondered what had happened to The MacGregor. She was always there, and time passed.

As the time went by, Elspeth’s voice changed from a tiny child’s to that of a young girl. She brought flowers, laid them at his feet and described them to him. For the first time in years, Angus was desperate to communicate with another being. Neither hunger or thirst plagued him, but he felt as if he would starve from the lack of real contact. Only the girl’s daily presence kept him from losing touch with reality and going completely mad.

In time, the villagers began to build a cemetery around him. Those who passed by could be heard to comment on how hideous he was, and how he’d got there to begin with. They spoke of finding less unwholesome scenery.

Still, Elspeth came and talked to him, never showing the slightest bit of fear over his appearance.

When she spoke, no news was too trivial.

One day, she told him she had met a lad from a neighboring village. She had found work there as a cleaning woman.

Angus felt a stab of mortal fear. Surely, he would lose his only friend now.

Perhaps she sensed his unease, for she reassured him the walk from the nearby village was not far. She would still come.

He need not have agonized, for she kept her word, as she always had.

Elspeth married her lad and bore him children. She spoke incessantly of them, dutifully reporting the births of each. She shared her hopes for the future, plans for a new home and her life. And time went on.

She came to him in tears one day.

He knew the countryside had been besieged during a senseless war. He knew this because of the weeping he heard, and the many recent burials around him. He heard the crying from each family that lost another soul.

Now, Elspeth was telling him that her husband and oldest had been killed. He regretted, with all his heart, that he could say not a single word of comfort.

Still, she came.

One day, almost sixty-one years after his enchantment, Elspeth came no more.

He knew the passing of the years because his friend had told him about them; just as she’d told him what was happening in history. But, on that one day he feared would eventually come, she did not make her usual appearance.

Still, Angus waited. What else was left for him to do?

The afternoon grew longer.

He knew the approximate time of day, only because he felt the night mist fall over his stone flesh.

Elspeth still did not come.

Not long after, dread washed over him when he heard the gravediggers at work. Sure enough, she was the deceased spirit that a new batch of mourners spoke of.

Even as the sounds filled his ears—sounds of Elspeth’s body being laid to rest—he was forced to stand nearby and listen to what others said of her. All the while, he remained frozen, and unable to speak his own tribute.

As it all played out, his heart shattered.

Very likely, no one noticed the lone tear sliding slowly down the face of the moldy, faded statue; the statue no one cared about in the center of the graveyard. The statue everyone described, in so much detail, as being hideous.

If they did see what looked like a tear, they did not mention anything. The mourners would surely have thought the heavy mist played a part in the gruesome statue’s sorrowful expression.

He could not even grieve for his friend properly.

***

In the days thereafter, he begged the Goddess of the Earth to take his life.

He could bear his fate when Elspeth came. But, not any longer.

So, he knew fear and loneliness again.

It was the same fear and loneliness he had known as a child.

In his utter despair, he did not sense a presence in the graveyard one sunny morn; some weeks after Elspeth’s passing. He knew the sun was well and truly up because he felt its heat on his stone body.

Someone was there. Whoever it was, that person stood very near.

He waited and hoped.

“My name is Andrew,” said a small voice. “My grandmother knew her time was near, and she made me promise to come and speak to you every day. She said real men always keep their promises. And so I shall.”

The voice paused, but Angus knew such happiness that it was indescribable.

 “I am sorry I did not come sooner, but I had to get permission to walk here first.”

Angus guessed the child could be no more than the age of Elspeth, when he had first met her.

The little boy then began to talk. He talked on and on and Angus listened to every syllable the child uttered.

 No one could ever take the place of his longtime friend. But she had kept her word, and his loneliness was gone.

Andrew, and all who followed him, seemed to believe that speaking to the gruesome statue was a kind of game; a family tradition to pass from the oldest of one generation to the youngest of the next.

It didn’t matter.

Angus felt the joy of learning to love each life that came to him. He learned of the changing times, the changing language and styles. He learned of changing politics. All because a promise was kept.

And he learned the pain of losing each one of those lives as he’d lost Elspeth.

He learned a great deal.

One day, he heard strangers in the cemetery. Voices came to him that he did not recognize. These were not people who came to speak to loved ones that were buried nearby. He knew the inflection of each voice by now. He knew all their stories and their heartaches. When one is so still in a cemetery, one can hear and learn amazing things.

But these people were very most assuredly strangers.

Having them there, was a definite rarity given the size of the village.

One of the strangers, a man, spoke of moving ‘the old eyesore’, as ‘it’ was a detraction from the new cemetery gardens.

Then, horror followed.

Angus was covered in chains, and lifted with loud, heavy equipment.

Wherever he was placed was dark and silent. No sun ever fell on his stone form.

He waited for voices, but none ever came.

He couldn’t even hear the singing of birds.

Again, he wanted to die.

Who, at this point, would remember the enchantment to set him free?

If he could even be found, there was still no hope for him.

Each day would bring him closer to the three hundredth year of his enchantment. He earnestly began to pray for the release of death. Being alone was so much worse than dying.

If only they had cracked and broken him as he was being moved. Surely, that would have set his soul free, to know peace.

Was this the kind of cruel anguish that others had endured because of him?

Out of hatred, he had done horrifying things. This final, deafening and loathsome loneliness was his atonement.

Years and years of loneliness followed.

Each day, he prayed for an ending. His curse must end, or he would go mad.

He would not only be alone in a dark, stone world, but he would be quite insane there.

If only he could will himself to death.

Broken, utterly lost and tormented, he stood without hope. With no sound to keep him company save that of the wind.

Someone help me. Goddess, please let this end soon.