Maig's Hand

by Phillip Henderson

“Excuse the interruption, Milady, but you may want to see this,” the priest said. He was overseeing the two soldiers who were untying the tarpaulin on the back of the cart.

  Faith hadn’t paid the aged priest much attention and she was surprised he would interrupt. At least until she noticed the red cuffs on his brown robes. She couldn’t place his face and she didn’t know of a Father Portis, but his attire marked him as a member of the Aquarius order of reformist priests, which meant he likely knew more about what was afoot than they.

  He smiled politely as she approached. His expression confirmed her suspicions and begged her discretion.

  He nodded to one of the soldiers to throw back the tarpaulin and stepped aside to give James and her space at the rear of the cart.

  Faith immediately covered her mouth and nose with her hand and involuntarily stepped back for the cart was packed with the torn and bloody remains of a good number of crows and bats. It wasn’t the sight that bothered her. She had seen the slaughter of battle on more than a few occasions, but the smell of these corpses was more than anything she’d experienced before.

  “What is this?”

  “They were brought down by two white eagles and a white owl,” the knight said.

  Two white eagles and an owl. It didn’t take much imagination to know who they were or what these creatures had been before their brutal end.

  “A number of sailors aboard the ships moored at the wharves heard the cries and came up on deck to see what was happening. They swear the three birds attacking this lot were working together. Heard human voices in the gloom, they say. And I have to say, I never heard of owls and eagles do such a thing, nor eagles seeking prey at night, or in the company of night birds,” Sir Kilque said.

  “Strange indeed,” the priest said. “But the dark often play tricks with the mind, particularly when the mind is addled by liquor and sleep, so who is to say what the truth is. I wouldn’t worry about it captain. Now that I think on it a little more, it’s likely it was three owls finding opportunity to feed, not eagles. As you said yourself, it is not uncommon for the hordes of bats and crows to cross the lake under the cover of darkness to feed on the orchards in the hills above Pelorus. The witnesses likely mistook what they saw, and with the thick fog this night it’s easy to feel the foreboding that’s about and make more of it than is fair.”

  “I’m not sure, I understand.” The knight looked decidedly puzzled by the priest’s comments. “You said this oddity concerned you; that the chancellor should know of it at once?”

  “And he will. But with what the good General has just said, I’m sure the Chancellor is otherwise occupied. Now, if you would be so good, Sir Kilque, have some of your men burn these creatures at once. I don’t think it will be necessary to take them to the palace after all. And could you send one of your men to my church and ask my assistant to bring our store of Laric oil. He’ll need all of it. It’ll help cover the stench, and ward off disease. He’ll understand what I mean him to do.”

  Laric oil? Faith hadn’t heard of such a thing.

  “I could save young Mr Plyer the trouble. We can cover the smell with Corric powder. There is plenty of it in store”

  “No, laric oil if you please.” The knight went to argue but the priest cut him off. “If you would just humour me, Sir Kilque?”

  “As you say, Father.”

  “Now, if you don’t mind, I need to speak to the good General and her companion alone.”

  “Of course.” The knight eyed them all with growing bewilderment before moving off, shouting orders; “Hawlow, Browen, collect enough wood from the stores to build that fire up. Lee, Masterton, get a shovel each. You got a job to do. Larral, get to the Vince Street church and have Father Portis’ assistant bring his store of laric oil. And be quick about it.”

  The priest asked James to take the lantern down from the cart and then gestured them to follow him. His walking stick tapped on the cobbles and he remained silent as he hobbled out into the misty square in front of the gate. The dark outlines of buildings at the edge of the square surrounded them, and a dim light marked the point where the Southern thoroughfare, named the King’s Way opened into this centuries old plaza. When they reached the well of remembrance that had been erected at the centre of the plaza at the end of the Long Terror the priest turned to face them and said. “What happened?”

  His amicable countenance had dissolved, replaced now with a troubled resignation tinged with bitterness.

  “Danielle and Lord Cargius were abducted shortly after leaving Kathius Hall together.”

  “Oh, dear mercies.” He sat down heavily on the side of the well. “Are you sure they have both the Lady de Brie and Lord Cargius?”

  “Quite sure.”

  “Then I suspect I know how the Kathiusian Druids will want to handle this matter.” Using his walking stick, he levelled himself back up. “Since it is so, I think it would be best if you called off the search and returned immediately to the palace and leave this matter to your uncle. He will know what to do.”

  Faith couldn’t believe what this man was suggesting. “With all due respect, Father, our friend is out there and you know what is at stake if we do not get to her in time.”

  “You cannot meddle in this,” he snapped at her. He paused, before adding more calmly, “There are forces now in play you cannot fight with steel. And if you do, then these streets will run thick with blood, worse, you could doom us all.”

  “Meaning what exactly?” James asked, before Faith had a chance.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m not at liberty to say.”

  “Then I’m not at liberty to agree. Now if you’ll excuse me.” James skulked off back in the direction of the gate.

  “James, where are you going?”

  “To the Gate of the Saints to lead the hounds through every street and alley and every house in the Downs if I have to. I’m going to find her. I’m going to bloody find her.”

  Faith nodded grimly.

  “Milady …” the priest begged. “If you interfere, you could very well doom every living soul. You do not have the knowledge or power to …”

  “I am sorry. I agree with James.” Faith picked up the lantern from where James had left it on the ground by her boot.

  “Then I fear you will both die this night and many more innocents besides,” the priest said sadly.

  “Then I’ll die happy in the knowledge that I tried,” Faith replied.

  He sighed wearily and hobbled after her. “This will not serve Corenbald. In the coming days, your art as a General will be needed …”

  Faith stopped, gestured him to silence and turned her attention on the fog in the direction of the city across the square. The slow clip clop of hooves was growing louder. At first she had thought it was dripping water. Now she knew it to be a horse and rider coming on at a slow trot. She dimmed the lantern to hide their position and drew the old man behind her. “Who goes there?” she called out, her voice muffled in the fog. Something wasn’t right; she could feel it as keenly as Black could pick an ambush. She wished she’d brought him with her. He would have been very useful this evening.

  The horse stopped. The rattle of trace and the thump of boots on cobble came to them as someone dismounted with ease. Faith waited for the sound of a weapon being drawn from a scabbard, for whoever was out there moved with the effortlessness of a warrior.

  She tightened her grip on her sword. “I said who goes there.”

  James stepped up beside her. Like a sharpening stone against a blade, his sword grated quietly as it cleared its scabbard.

  He could probably feel it too, a deep foreboding. Something dark was out there, and it feared them not at all. For some reason she was reminded of Kane’s sardonic grin and the cruel delight she’d seen in his eyes often time when Dee and he had fought. The thought made her skin crawl with disquiet.

  “We should not dally here,” the priest whispered. “That tingling cold you can feel is darkest evil,” he whispered.
<
br />   James’ hand pressed down on Faith’s shoulder. “Take Father Portis back to the gate. I’ll see who this is.”

  She shrugged his hand off and pushed the priest into his care and then directed him back towards the South Gate. “We all go. We need numbers.”

  Whatever was out there was beyond their strength, individually or collectively, her soldierly instincts told her as much.

  They had only covered a few yards when something metallic scuttled across the cobbles towards them. Both Faith and James turned at the same moment and brought their swords up to defend themselves. A small white orb hit the stonework of the monument at the centre of the well and rolled to a stop a few yards in front of them. From the dim light the lantern offered, it looked like it was made of glass.

  Thinking it might have been a diversion and half expecting the dark shadow of an attacker to burst out of the gloom around them, Faith caught James’ arm as he went to approach it.

  “Wait.” Faith listened, but there was nothing. The quiet of the night had returned. Whoever was out there wasn’t moving, at least for now.

  James stepped forward and poked at the glass orb with the point of his sword, careful to keep one eye on the fog. A bright orange light suddenly burst from the glass, illuminating the fog and making them start with fright and move back, shielding their eyes. The faint stench reminiscent of the ruined remains in the back of the cart began to creep into the air as the sphere of swirling orange light began to pulsate and expand.

  Whatever this was, it was far from natural. “Come on, let’s not dally.”

  Faith had barely spoken when a commanding voice shattered the quiet, “Cam la, et al lula ema arituis.”

  “Oh, dear gods,” the priest whimpered. He broke from James’ hold and staggered off into the mist in the direction of the gate. “Run! Run!”

  Not sure what to think, Faith kept her sword at the ready, and quickly walked backwards, following the priest. James joined her.

  Then the ground began to shake violently. The cobblestones clattered together and they lost their footing. Faith quickly struggled back to her feet on the shifting ground and helped pull James up. The rumbling became a deafening roar. The mist swirled and her hair whipped around her face as a gust of wind howled across the square like a living beast. Then the air around them exploded with a blinding white light and an unseen force knocked them off their feet as easily as a giant’s iron fist.

  With her head ringing, Faith eased herself off the wet cobbles a little. She thought she heard horses galloping towards them over the howling wind and the rumble of the trembling ground. She shook her head and her vision cleared just in time to see that the orb was now a blinding white ball of fire as large as an executioner’s bonfire fully ablaze. At its centre a line of black robed horsemen were galloping up towards the square. Faith blinked, wondering if she had hit her head for what she was seeing was impossible. Then the first rider drew his long sword from a scabbard on his back and his icy gaze found her. The sight chilled her to the bone and she snatched up her sword and ran just as the hooded rider burst from the yawing flames and gave chase, his companions thundering after him into the swirling fog.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Danielle tightened her grip on her sword and prepared herself as the footsteps and hushed voices of the two men who had pursued her from the burning apartment approached the mouth of the alley she was hiding in. She flinched as something brushed up against her leg and began to purr. She had felt the cat’s presence the moment she turned into the alley, as well as that of a terrified rat, which was hiding in a crevice in the brick steps that led up to a door a little further down. His companions had escaped back into their nest in an adjoining wall. Not that these animals dominated her thoughts right at this moment. Someone was probing the ether, seeking her out. She could feel them. She touched the amulets that hung around her neck and hoped they were sufficiently powerful to keep her hidden from an enemy so close at hand.

  A shadow passed through the fog at the end of the alley and the footsteps continued on, picking up pace. Danielle breathed a sigh of relief and relaxed her grip on her sword. She gave the cat a stroke and then edged her way down the alley as quietly and quickly as she dared. At the far end she cautiously peeped out into the dark, foggy, house-lined street beyond. As far as she could tell the street was deserted.

  With a number of the palace and city gate bells now tolling in the distance she had already guessed she was somewhere in the south of the city. The narrow streets and old brick, stone and tile buildings suggested the Downs, but she couldn’t be sure. And even if she was right, she didn’t know the streets of this district anymore than a visitor to the palace would know the way to the centre of Leefton’s famed hedge maze. She thought about heading in the direction the bells were tolling, only to dismiss it. That was likely what her captors would expect her to do and she didn’t relish walking into an ambush, even though she now had a sword in her hand. The smarter option was probably to continue south to the city wall. There would be soldiers there to help protect her and it could very well give her a head start if her pursuers were thinking as she suspected. There was another way to swing the advantage in her favour, but that required finding a readying yard and that wasn’t going to be easy in the fog.

  Relying more on hearing than sight, Danielle crept along the pavement. She passed several tenements and trade shops before stopping in the doorway to an inn. Apart for a night lantern hanging above the door, every window in the establishment and the places she had passed were in darkness. She didn’t expect anyone would be up at this hour, but she did expect there would be a readying yard at the rear of an inn with a few horses in the stables. If she could steal one, no one would catch her. She was quite sure of that.

  As expected she found a gate at the side of the inn. A lantern burned here as well, casting a circle of yellow light in the fog and revealing a narrow lane that led to the rear of the building. But when she tried to open the gate a dog came scampering up the lane and started barking and growling. Danielle quietly cursed and hurried on down the pavement, crossed the road and ducked down an alley to an adjoining street. She drew up in the doorway to a bakery and listened. Even with her heart thumping in her chest and trying to calm her breathing she caught the hint of footsteps approaching.

  Danielle glanced across the road and spotted a lantern burning above the front door of a blacksmith’s shop. There would be a readying yard and stables at the rear, for certain.

  Unfortunately getting there was going to be difficult for the footsteps had stopped and she could feel the tingling sensation that affected her whenever magic was used to seek her out. A cold breeze stirred the mist in the street just beyond the doorway. She knew the man could sense that she was close, but hadn’t yet located her. She also knew that she should be more afraid than she was. But there had been sufficient time for her anger to grow since escaping the burning house and grow it had. She thought about using the sword in her hand. There were only two men out there and she expected they’d be weary of hurting her since they needed her alive. The only problem was they were too far away. Even with the fog and cover of night they’d sense or hear her coming long before she could reach them. And she wasn’t sure what magic they could summon against her in the time it would take for her to get at them.

  That left another option; one Danielle had only become aware of since the carriage and later as Lea had tried to probe her mind. Not sure what to expect she closed her eyes hard and clenched her fists. Then she reached out for her pursuers with every ounce of fury she could muster. In a flash she found the man who was seeking her. It was one of the elders, the one called Bale. She saw his eyes open wide in shock and his face suddenly contort in agony as she released her rage, letting it pour into his mind like a river of boiling iron. His scream cut through the quiet and he clutched his head, struggling to get free of her hold.

  Danielle abruptly broke off, stunned by the elation that had swept through her. She
could taste the man’s blood in her mouth, her hands were shaking and she felt severely weakened. She looked up suddenly and knew this had been a mistake. More footfalls were approaching from multiple directions.

  Using them to cover her own, she ducked across the street and down the path beside the blacksmith’s shop. As expected there was a yard at the rear. She pushed past several unhitched wagons and a shelter in which coal and wood were kept for the smithy’s furnace, before spotting a small stable at the rear of the walled courtyard. The barn door wasn’t locked. It opened without a sound and she slipped inside. A night lantern hung from a rafter, a flame at low ebb. Many commoners left a lantern burning during the spring months to ward-off evil in the hope their pregnant animals would not miscarry. Danielle had never liked the practice. Too many animals had died from fires because of it. This time, however, she was relieved to have some light to see by. She took the lantern down and moved to the first stall. It contained a brown mare, her belly wide in foal. She wouldn’t dream of riding a horse in such a condition and quickly moved to the next stall and held up the lantern. A large, shaggy wagon horse blinked back at her. Danielle patted his nose before moving along. Her heart was quickening again as she found the final three stalls occupied by nothing more than sleeping goats.

  She put a hand through her damp hair, wondering what to do now. It was then that a rustle of hay and a quiet whinny drew her attention across the cluttered interior of the outhouse. There was another horse here, she was sure of it. She crossed the stable, past the smithy’s forge and furnace and found a stallion of relatively good breeding in a stall by himself. She petted his nose, relieved, and then grabbed a bridle that was hanging from the timberwork. There was no time to saddle the animal and when she was done, she slipped her sword under her belt, led him out of the stall and swung up onto his back. It felt awfully good to have a horse under her, but the lack of any sign that her pursers were close bothered her some.