“And Lord Mason, our realm’s pre-eminent wine producer, has the same role in the Dukedom of Dunston and the northern realms,” Henry Cameron continued.
Lord Fredrick Mason removed his pipe and offered a polite though curt bow that ruffled his mop of salt-and-pepper hair.
Kane nodded back in acknowledgment—relaxing a bit in this company of fine and respected gentlemen, perhaps men he could call friends after all. He shifted his attention to his aged nursemaid as Lord Cameron continued. “And Fren, of course, is our high priestess and esteemed leader. Her sister, Keira, who I understand you have already met, is our second priestess. She holds sway over all the covens in the lands and realms south of Arkaelyon.” He moved on. “Now, this gentleman you won’t know. Lord Allius Novik, our Lord Marshal.”
The name was somehow familiar to Kane, or at least he thought it was. But the solidly built warrior who smiled politely back at him was utterly unfamiliar in look. A tournament knight? Yet a man as striking and powerful as Allius, he would not have forgotten. “Do I know you, sir? Perhaps we have duelled?”
Everyone at the table looked slightly amused by Kane’s question.
Henry cleared his throat and said. “Lord Allius was Lord Brutarius Victorium’s Lord Marshal in the last year of his reign.”
Kane was at a loss as to what he should say. “Brutarius Victorium? The last Druid Overlord before the fall …” The man would have to be more than two hundred years old—impossible.
“I understand your surprise, Lord Kane. But I am one and the same. You see, there are some at this table who do not age by natural years,” Lord Allius explained. “Fren and Keira share that gift with me. Though your nursemaid and Lady Keira here are the eldest of us. Some of us have aged better than others as you can tell,” Allius said, tongue-in-cheek.
“I just don’t suffer from vanity like the two of you,” Fren said good-naturedly, looking at her sister and the Lord Marshal.
Those at the table chuckled at the friendly banter. Kane decided he liked this fellow as well. “Magic I take it? Prevents you aging?”
“Yes,” Fren replied. A teasing smile grew on her wrinkled face as she added, “A magic you shall benefit from also, Kane, since you suffer from my sister and Lord Allius’ vice of vanity as well.”
“Guilty as charged.”
Everyone laughed.
Henry continued with the introductions. “As with our Lord Marshal, you will not know Mr Bale here. He is an accomplished assassin, a skill he is presently handing on to my beautiful niece, Lea.”
Kane gave a wary nod to the Surlemian. The man was slighter than the average Surlemian warrior, and his fair hair was touched with silver suggesting he was in his middle years. Unlike Lord Allius, however, there was a hardness in this man’s brown eyes that said they would never be close.
“This, of course, is Lord Burchfield, the realm’s second sword after our age Lord Defender, and esteemed member of your father’s war council.”
Kane nodded a genial greeting. “Matthew. You are always able to surprise me.”
“Then I did not teach you as well as I should have, milord.”
“You taught me as well as I could be taught.”
Matthew Burchfield had been Kane’s first sword master and had always taken a keen interest in his involvement in the tournament circuit. Before the Illandian tourney he’d been feeding Kane information about his sister’s progress, knowledge that had been purchased from one of the knights in his sister’s retainer, as Kane understood it. A tall and agile man, Matthew was a legendry swordsman in his own right and a trusted acquaintance. As an anointed knight he had proved his valour many times during the summer crusades to the walls of Amthenium. He was also the nobility’s favourite to replace Lord Hendrix as the next Lord Defender of the realm, that is, should the wily old Hendrix ever finally decide to die. Kane also knew that despite Burchfield’s impressive credentials, favour with the nobles and the support and loyalty he had from the higher ranks of the realm’s army, his father, the king, was not thrilled about the idea, and there were even whispers that he might overlook the man and his two colleagues, Lord Jean Sawyer and Lord Robert McLeod, and appoint Hendrix’s second in command, Sir Bailey Sarson, in their stead. Not that any of that was going to matter in a couple of weeks. When made king, this man would be the realms new Lord Defender.
“Finally,” Lord Cameron continued, “You should know that Lord Summerset is one of our senior members, also. He, like Bruce, Fredrick, and Albert, is the chief elder of a region, in this case the coven encompassing the territory from Amthenium in the north to the borders of his own lands. Unfortunately, he is unable to be here this evening; an urgent matter forced him to return home earlier in the afternoon. As for me, I serve as chief elder of the Illandian coven, and fourth in line among the council members here, after our esteemed priestesses and Lord Allius of course. Now, if you would take your seat at the head of the table, Milord, we will answer whatever questions you may have and then get on to the matter of your sister’s untimely but necessary demise.”
Kane had to admit that having these men and women as allies, whatever their religious sentiments, was appealing. Their combined wealth alone was staggering to behold. And of course, it helped to know that they despised both the Archbishop and Danielle fully as much as he. Taking a seat, he said, “Lea and Lord Cameron have told me a little of what you all envision for Arkaelyon, and that you presently have the Archbishop doing your dirty work, so to speak—something that, I’m happy to say, I am not averse to, given the present circumstances.”
Kane paused for the polite laughter that followed his statement to die down. He even found himself smiling. Oddly, he felt a strange kinship here.
“However, I’d like to hear more of the details. For it is my understanding that even if this book can be found and its power proves to be all that myth would have us believe, there are not sufficient men in Arkaelyon to force the continent into submission. Even to hold Amthenium, defend Arkaelyon’s borders, and restore the peace with our neighbours seems most ambitious.”
“If we had to rely solely on the sword, that would be true,” Lord Galloway answered. “However, the only battle we’ll face in the field in our bid to restore Arkaelyon’s seven dukedoms will be against Noren and Lunwraith, for both Amthenium and my Corenbald will fall without loss of life.”
Kane leaned forward, curious to hear this. He knew about Amthenium and the plan to poison the wells around the palace, and clearly, so did those at the table. But Corenbald was another story, particularly since King Richard was a staunch ally of his father and would undoubtedly support Eden and Danielle in the event of their father’s death.
“You see, Milord, our faith is strong amongst a good majority of the members of Corenbald’s nobility. And even the non-believers amongst our nobles see the economic sense in surrendering our sovereignty and letting Corenbald revert back to being a dukedom of Arkaelyon.”
“Of course,” Lord Galloway continued, “the non-believers amongst our nobility don’t know our ultimate intentions, but many of them have made it clear to me in private that they would support the surrender of Corenbald’s sovereignty to Arkaelyon if not for the fact that the Lady Galloway holds the loyalty of a sizable proportion of the Corenbald army, and like her father, she is an avid defender of the kingdom’s sovereignty. Many feel, you see, that due to Richard’s regulations and strict controls over the price of goods and nature of trade across our borders, we have missed out on the wealth that many of our peers in Arkaelyon have enjoyed these past ten years, and they’re eager to see that changed.”
“So what exactly are you suggesting?”
“It’s the view of this council that your accession could prove to be the impetus we need to mount a successful challenge for the Corenbald throne. With the Corenbald nobility and several of the generals on our war council with me, and with Arkaelyon’s loyalty to our cause and willingness to send an army made clear to my brother, we would be well
placed to call a vote of no confidence in the Hall of Elders, the outcome of which would give Richard no choice but to abdicate his throne.”
“To whom exactly? I was of the understanding that your First Sword was by right next in line to wear the white crown of Corenbald.”
“Under normal circumstances, you’d be correct of course. Lady Galloway is the heir to the throne. But with an abdication in Corenbald, the task of appointing the realm’s next liege falls to the elders of the Hall, not to lineage and blood.”
“Be that as it may, sir, I don’t expect that your niece would let you prevail so easily. She is not one to back down in the face of opposition. Believe me; I wear the scars to prove it.”
“As you say, Milord. However, we don’t believe that the Lady Galloway is foolish enough to make a traitor of herself by raising arms against us, even if the numbers do afford her the opportunity—at least initially. After all, we would have legitimately deposed my brother, and I as the new king would have legally ceded Corenbald sovereignty back to Arkaelyon in accordance to the wishes of the Hall of Elders. And if she dared, she’d have the might of Arkaelyon to contend with, and you’d have every right to cross into your restored territory of Corenbald and destroy her forces and take her prisoner. Faith will understand that well enough. She’s a determined young woman, as you well know, sir, but she’s no fool, and certainly not in military matters. She’ll know she’s beaten once the nobles cast their votes, and will grudgingly accept her lot.”
“And how do we get this past the Grand Assembly?”
Lord Galloway shrugged. “It’s domestic politics. The shift in power in Arkaelyon and Corenbald will no doubt ruffle feathers amongst the reformist realms, but they can not intervene under the Grand Assembly chart.”
“Furthermore, sir,” Lord Burchfield added, “if we can manage this as planned, without bloodshed, that is, Corenbald’s armies would add more than another forty thousand men to our ranks—men we could very likely use to capture Noren and secure her northern border with Lunwraith before winter.”
“Except, of course, that their loyalty is with King Richard and the Lady Galloway, and I wonder if they can be trusted,” Kane pointed out.
Taking up the conversation, Lord Brachard scratched at his red beard and leaned forward. “We feel, sir, that this might be the perfect opportunity to test the secrets held within the pages of the Book of Minion. As a trial, if you will, we could use what many think is a potion or poison on the soldiers loyal to the Lady Galloway and King Richard and place them in the foremost ranks when we cross the Amthenium tributary into Noren. It’ll let us gauge its effects.”
This surprised Kane a little. “You’re telling me that although you are Larnian Druids,” he gestured toward Fren and Keira, “apprentices to the last High Priestess even, you do not know what knowledge is contained within this book?”
There was an uneasy silence as the members glanced at one another.
“Not entirely,” Fren said at last. “Unfortunately apprentices did not have access to the Book, or much of the knowledge pertaining to its working. However, we do know that the book contains a recipe for an herbal mixture that, once consumed, acts like a poison on the mind. It turns the will of the victims to the wearer of Maig’s ring and infuses their blood with violence. It was this potion that made the slave armies of our predecessors so successful.”
“Yet, Brutarius was defeated.”
“Yes, because the book was stolen. Without the book, the potion could be prepared, but not infused with Maig’s power.
Kane saw her point.
“The Archbishop said nothing of a ring.”
Fren merely grinned. “He knows what we wish him to know.”
“Clearly. And I assume you are in possession of this ring?”
“We are; however, we think it prudent that His Eminence be kept in the dark as long as possible. Let him find the book, and when the time is right we’ll reveal the ring.”
“It gives us a certain amount of bargaining power, you understand, sir,” Lord Burchfield said.
Kane did indeed understand. The Archbishop wasn’t a man one turned one’s back on—he had learned that the hard way. And it would feel good to have the old coot by the short hairs. “And you are sure he can in fact retrieve this book. The Brotherhood of Aquarius won’t give it up easily I suspect?”
Humour twinkled in the eyes of those around the table again. Fren said, “Let’s just say in a round about way, we are going to retrieve it for him. Or at least retrieve it so he can find it.”
Kane wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but he had more pressing matters on his mind. “So once we have Corenbald, we capture Noren?”
“Indeed, sir. The little republic will provide us with another population from which to draw more slave armies, making the counterattack we can expect in spring less daunting still. In fact, our numbers and our possession of the book may even prevent it altogether,” said General Burchfield.
“Yes, the Archbishop thinks so too.” Kane had to admit; he was impressed with what he was hearing. “Fine, then, gentlemen. But if I agree to this, how exactly am I to get it past the Archbishop? You all know what a cautious coward he is and how he’ll react to these somewhat ambitious suggestions.”
“I propose we get it past him the same way we’re going to get the demise of your sister past him,” Lord Mason said as he pushed tobacco into the bowl of his pipe.
“And how is that, good sir?” It was clear by the expressions on the faces around him that this had already been discussed.
Lord Mason’s gaze came up and met Kane’s; there was humour there. “After the fact.” Mason lit his pipe and sat back. “At the end of the day, he needs your kingship more than you need him. And I suspect, with Corenbald brought back into the fold, and Arkaelyon forty thousand men stronger because of it, he won’t complain for long. And, of course, the same goes for Noren. And without the ring, it’s not as if he can use the Book of Minion against you.”
Everyone chuckled. Even Kane found himself smiling again. “Very good. Now, what timetable are you proposing for all this?”
“If the Archbishop’s poison works as it should, then the king will be dead before the month is out,” Lord Galloway said. “Two days after the funeral, your High Council will find itself in a stalemate, and the issue of who will be Arkaelyon’s next liege will be handed onto the members of your General Council—which, in due course, will elect you as Arkaelyon’s next high king. After that, I suggest that we proceed as soon as papers can be drawn up showing that Arkaelyon’s loyalty has shifted from my older brother to me. I will spread the word among Corenbald’s nobles and call a meeting of the Hall of Elders to table a vote of no confidence in my brother’s leadership. We believe that the more quickly this can be done, the better. Strike while the iron is hot. Then it’s a case of waiting for the book to be found and translated so we can move on Noren.”
“And all this before winter?” Kane asked, looking around the table for confirmation.
“We believe it would be best, sir,” Lord Cameron replied. “Fewer enemies to face in the field come spring, and this might even see that we avoid war altogether. Two or three realms offer vassalage, and I expect the rest will quickly follow, realising the futility of resistance.”
“Speaking of spring, and assuming that we can’t avoid war, how do you propose we proceed once the thaw is upon us?” Kane continued.
“We wait,” Lord Mason said.
Kane looked over at the wine merchant. “Meaning?”
“Henry will have told you that the book carries a frightful curse, no doubt.”
“Yes, he did.”
“Then you should know, Milord, that it’s the view of this council that we hold our own, protect our new borders, and wait until the Archbishop ails and dies. Once the book is in our grasp, we move on Lunwraith, followed by Abeian and Themia, completing the conquest of the north and the destruction of the stronghold of the Goddian Faith. It will be easy
enough to sell it to everyone else as a holy war. Only then do we move against Vafusolum and beyond.”
“And you’re sure that the realms of the south and east will just stand by and wait for us to invade?”
“With the Grand Assembly gone, sir, and with it widely known that you and the Archbishop possess the Book of Minion, we think there will be a great deal of confusion, at least for a time, and most will look to secure their own borders. And we do believe that there is a real chance war might be avoided altogether.”
Kane hoped so. “Now, how long before this curse takes effect?”
“A year, Milord, perhaps a little less, given the Archbishop’s advanced age.”
Kane sat back in his chair, looking at the faces of those seated around him. “And if I am content to stop the expansion of Arkaelyon’s borders with the restoration of all seven of the realm’s ancient dukedoms?”
“As I said, sir, that is your prerogative. You bear the mark of the chosen one, and we are bound to your will,” Lord Henry said. The others nodded their agreement.
Kane could see that he had nothing to worry about; these people were truly and utterly committed to him. He held up his glass in salute. “Then, gentlemen and Fren and Keira, I accept your terms. We proceed as you have planned.”
There was a collective sigh of relief as glasses clinked together and everyone drank to Kane’s toast.
Kane lowered his glass. “Now, to the subject of my sister. Fren said you could help me with that matter.”
“Indeed,” Lord Mason replied. “We are as eager as you to see the lady dead, Milord.”
“Yes, Lord Cameron said as much,” Kane replied, though curious to know why.
Fren smiled crookedly and leaned forward. “She bears a mark, Milord, one that makes her an enemy of our kind.”
“How so?”
“In short, your dear sister is what we refer to as a Child of Light,” Lord Cameron continued. “I don’t know the extent of your knowledge of the history of the Druid-Goddian wars, but when Ariel the Steadfast sold his soul to the gods of the north and began to persecute those of the old faith, the elders of the Kathiusian Druid Council at the time put their hope in a peace accord that the reformist bishops were apparently trying to broker with the members of the General Council. Their hope, as ill founded as it was, was to rally the nobility against Ariel and force him to abdicate his throne; after all, our beloved founding father, Kathius, was a druid warrior, and the laws set down by the first council made it clear that matters of faith were for each man to decide for himself and not to be determined by the Druid council or the king’s court. It was all very noble and idealistic, so typical of the reformist Goddians and the Kathiusian elders. However, while they talked, the men, women, and children of our faith were being slaughtered in their thousands. Larnius, the father of our kind, was an apprentice Druid at the time. He begged the elders to legitimise the raising of arms against Ariel, but they refused. Leaving him no choice, Larnius sought out Ohed, an aged prophet of the dark goddess, Maig. It was a violation of the old laws, and the elders denounced him as a heretic and traitor and ordered his arrest. But where the elders and the First Mother had abandoned our kind, Maig did not. It was through her that Larnius received the Book of Minion and the Fountain of Rebirth and ultimately defeated Ariel and claimed Arkaelyon and eventually the continent of Bur-Lar as his own. Unfortunately, before most of the elders of the old council could be rounded up and executed for their misguidance and neglect, a High Druid by the name of Kamji Frindrar with the help of some of his brothers and sister placed a powerful curse on our kind.”
Maig's Hand Page 6
