Free The War of the Grail by Geoffrey Wilson

and he bent closer to the paper, eager as a cat stalking its prey. His spidery fingers flitted from one spot to another.
    The fire popped and a spark jumped on to the chart. Kanvar jerked and gave an almost comical yelp. His hand shot out and flicked the spark away before it could leave more than a small black spot on the sheet.
    He continued poring over the map.
    Then he froze and began trembling. His hand shook as he prodded his finger at a point on the sheet, making the paper crinkle.
    A strong squall rattled the shutters on one side of the hut. The door tapped incessantly in its frame.
    ‘What is it?’ Jack asked.
    Kanvar tightened his jaw and looked up. ‘This is it.’ His voice was a mere whisper, so quiet Jack could barely hear it.
    ‘The meeting place?’ Jack asked.
    ‘Yes. Marked here. Up in Scotland. The exact location. The exact coordinates.’
    ‘Good,’ Jack said. ‘So, you’ve found it. Are you going to tell me what the hell all this is about now?’
    A frown quivered across Kanvar’s forehead. He looked at the ground and mumbled something to himself.
    After waiting for perhaps twenty seconds, Jack said, ‘Are you going to explain yourself, or do I have to wait around all night?’
    ‘Yes.’ Kanvar looked up suddenly. ‘Yes, I will tell you. But it will take some time.’

    Jack stood with Kanvar in the middle of the glade. A chorus of birds sang in the surrounding trees. Bees murmured and a gentle breeze combed the grass. The storm had passed during the night and the sky was now a sharp blue. The sun baked the wet earth and the scent of the rising steam mingled with the smell of warm grass and wild flowers.
    ‘Look, Kanvar,’ Jack said. ‘I need some answers now.’
    ‘Yes, yes,’ Kanvar said. ‘Soon.’
    They were about a quarter of a mile from Folly Brook. Kanvar had insisted on coming here before he explained anything further. The Sikh seemed fully recovered now, despite only sleeping for three hours. Jack, on the other hand, ached with tiredness. But he was eager to hear what Kanvar had to say.
    ‘Walk forward,’ Kanvar said.
    Jack frowned. ‘What?’
    ‘Just a few steps.’
    What was Kanvar playing at now?
    Jack thought about protesting, but he’d gone along with Kanvar’s wishes so far. He might as well go along with them for a little while longer.
    He took three steps forward and slipped into a powerful sattva stream. The invisible substance swirled about him and sent his skin quivering. The sweet scent tickled his nostrils.
    He turned and looked back at Kanvar. ‘It’s a sattva stream. So what?’
    ‘This one flows back down to Folly Brook and through the House of Sorcery.’
    ‘Thought as much. Never followed it up the valley this far, but I would’ve guessed that.’
    ‘It flows on after the village, all the way to Clun Valley and even beyond. And there are streams like this all over England, are there not?’
    Jack sighed. ‘Of course. I know—’
    ‘Let me show you something.’ Kanvar crouched on the ground and fished a sheet of paper from his satchel.
    Jack walked over to him, sliding out of the stream again. He squatted down and watched as Kanvar unfurled the sheet and flattened it over the grass.
    ‘Looks like a map,’ Jack said.
    Kanvar gave him a small smile. ‘Well done. You are learning. In fact, it is a map of this region.’ He pointed at a spot near the centre of the paper. ‘This line here is the Folly Brook. These markings here are the hills to either side.’
    Jack hunched over the map. He could see a squiggling line which was presumably the brook. He couldn’t see anything that looked like hills, though.
    ‘Don’t worry about the detail,’ Kanvar said. ‘Just note this blue line here.’
    Jack followed Kanvar’s finger to a line that curved gently to the right side of the brook.
    ‘That,’ Kanvar said, ‘is the sattva stream you just walked into. I marked it down myself the last time I was here. Blue is always used for sattva.’
    ‘If