Druid's Bane

by Phillip Henderson

  “I’ve spent enough time thinking and waiting, I’m not going to be fobbed off anymore and I would think that you would be a little more supportive given what we have agreed to and what you have just witnessed.”

  That shut him up, as she suspected it would. They entered the towering east vestibule and clattered down a curved stone staircase and across the marble floor of the People’s Atrium, passing the entrance to the palace kitchen and the bustling day hall as they went.

  “Your highness, a word if I might.”

  Lord Spires had darted out of the hall, a mug of ale in his hand and looking a little unsteady on his feet. It was here that most of the lords with apartments in the palace gathered after the proceedings at the royal court were finished for the day and did their gossiping and drank more than their fill of palace wine.

  “Now is not a good time, sir.”

  He ignored her. “You received my letter of complaint against your soup kitchens, I hope?”

  “Yes and your concerns are noted.”

  “I hope they are more than just noted, Milady?”

  Danielle stopped and rounded on the balding man who was waddling after them. A notorious landlord with considerable holding in the city’s wharf district and a conservative member of the nobility, they were hardly friends and she was not in the mood to be patient. “If it is good enough, Milord, that your kind should drink and eat from the royal stores, then you’re hardly in a place to deny the commoners the same rights, and particularly since that right is not yours to give or withhold.”

  “With all due respect, your highness, the noble’s taxes make such generosity possible. You would do well not to forget that.”

  “And where do taxes come from, sir, but the backs of the peasantry and common day labourers. Now, if you will excuse me I have more pressing matters to deal with.”

  Lord Spires offered a stiff bow. “As you say, Milady. Perhaps I would be better taking this matter to the king. I’m sure he will be displeased to know his daughter is traversing through the palace with a sword on her person. And when he hears that your orphanages are little more than dens of thieves, he might reconsider your foolery …”

  Danielle was about ready to fly at this idiot, and would have if James hadn’t discreetly laid a hand on her arm and stepped in front of her.

  “Milord, you seem to have something in your beard,” James said.

  Lord Spires cast him a scowl as if to demand what right he had to speak, only to blink wildly when James grabbed him by that same beard and dragged him into a doorway. There was a solid thud, as he was shoved into the wall and held there by his collar.

  “Do you know what a protector’s ring looks like, sir?” James asked blithely.

  The lord offered a stiff nod then grimaced as James casually tightened his grip.

  “Good. Then you will see that I am wearing one. From now on if your lady is otherwise occupied, you will not presume to delay her. And you will certainly not threaten her in my hearing. Do we understand each other?”

  Spires’ podgy lips twitched in acknowledgement though anger flashed in his blood-shot eyes.

  “Good man.” James let him down and patted his cheek. “Guards!”

  Two soldiers approached across the vestibule, both trying to conceal grins. “Sir?

  “See this man to the palace gate and tell the captain of the watch that he is not to be given entry again today by order of your good lady’s protector”

  “I have business here,” Lord Spire’s protested.

  “Not to day you don’t.”

  “Your highness, I must protest.”

  “I don’t command him, Lord Spires.”

  The Cathedral bell began to toll. Not about to be put off any longer, Danielle grabbed James’ elbow and wheeled him towards the end of the passageway. When they were out of earshot she said, “Bullying nobles will not help me any, so in future please keep your mouth shut and your hands to yourself.”

  “As you said, Danielle, you don’t command me.”

  She let the matter go—for it had been rather amusing and they had stepped into the foyer of the Cathedral and joined the growing group of the devout members of the reformist faith who had arrived from around the palace for afternoon prayers. These folk were friends, some lords, some servants, but she didn’t have time for polite conversation so she led James in through the messenger’s door to the Cathedral’s towering antechamber. They were met by the angelic sound of plain song. Pillars rose to a vaulted ceiling and white stone statues of the eight Reformist priests lined the walls, their eyes raised in adoration to the gold relief of the blessed Mother and Father and the lesser gods of Helhar that occupied the wall above the doors to the vast inner sanctuary.

  Mr. Carig came bounding out of the cavernous sanctuary and they almost ran headlong into each other.

  “Milady, I was just on my way to see you.”

  Danielle looked past the royal messenger, and found no sign of Joseph following or even within, only servants lighting the candles and making the last minute preparations for the prayers and the choir below the altar.

  “The Council is not breaking for afternoon prayers after all. We have just been told as much. I’m sorry.”

  “I have to see him.”

  When the messenger said there was nothing he could do, Danielle stepped past and approached the entrance. The two guards standing either side of the open doors moved reluctantly to bar her entrance. “You must surrender your sword, your highness. You also, sir.”

  “I have to see the Lord Protector at once,” her voice echoed out through the towering chamber cutting across the choir, all of whom stopped singing and turned to look.

  “That’s not possible, your highness. The council is in session and can not be disturbed except by order of the king.”

  Father Jarivus, one of the seven Cathedral Clerics who served under the cardinal, looked up from a quiet conversation with several priests and hurried over, his brown robe brushing the stone floor. “Danielle, what’s the matter, my dear?”

  “I have to speak with Joseph immediately.”

  He shook his head gravely. “Oh, lass, you know I can’t open the crypt for anyone other than your father or one bearing his warrant and under his authority. Do you have his warrant?”

  She shook her head.

  “I suggest you talk to your father and come back with his authority.”

  “He won’t understand.” Every time she’d raised the matter of her dream with him, he’d directed her back to Joseph. If she went to him now she suspected he’d only fob her off again. She would also have to explain why she hadn’t shared this matter with him earlier and she needed that like a hole in the head.

  She looked past the priest, across the expanse of pews to the door at the foot of the towering stained glass windows that gave entrance to the rooms at the back of the cathedral. The entrance to the crypt was on the other side of that.

  “Dee, you know I can’t let you in,’ Father Jarivus said, sympathetically but also with an air of finality and warning.

  “You have to.” Not sure what else to do, she stepped back and drew her sword. James moved to stop her but she swung the point of the weapon on him and he quickly retreated, though not happily.

  “Lass, what are you doing? You can’t draw a weapon in here. You know that. It’s sacrilege,” Father Jarivus hissed. He seemed more concerned for her soul than anything else.

  Danielle regretted it, but the growing certainty that her dream was in fact a premonition wouldn’t let her do as good Father Jarivus suggested. “I have no choice and I will not be put off any more. The Council needs to hear what has just happened to me. It’s likely relevant to what they’re discussing. Please, Father.”

  “You know I can’t do as you ask, child. Now please put the sword away.”

  “Dee, put it away,” James growled, though he made no move to draw his sword, and he motioned the guards to step back, all of whom did so happily.

  “Help
me,” she demanded of him.

  He scowled at her. “I’m not drawing a sword in the Cathedral of the Divinity. Now put it down!”

  “I can’t. If what I feel is true, Arkaelyon’s future may depend on me talking with the council.” Surely they’d listen to her now? Truth was, she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure about any of this, only that she couldn’t delay speaking of it a moment longer.

  James took a step towards her so she swung her sword so the tip touched his throat and stopped him quickly in his tracks. Anger flashed across his face as she forced him back against a pillar. “It is a greater sin to allow murder than to prevent the profane from entering this house, is it not, Father?”

  “Of course, Milady.”

  “So please, open the door to the crypt. You know I would not do this unless there was a very good reason.”

  “She will not harm me, Father,” James said defiantly, his eyes boring into hers.

  He wouldn’t forgive this easily, that was clear, but there was no other way. “Father, please. I don’t want to harm anyone, but I will if I must.”

  There must have been something in her face or the fact that she’d nicked James’ neck, for Father Jarivus nodded solemnly, and then gestured to several startled servants to do as their lady demanded.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Joseph massaged his furrowed brow and listened to the arguments his colleagues were putting up. His aged frame ached from sitting so long on the circle of stone benches and the damp smoky air of the crypt wasn’t helping either.

  “No, brother Kale, what we know is that eight of our brethren have been abducted and found murdered in the past nine months, five more are missing and are likely dead too. We know who is responsible and we certainly know what the Archbishop is up to. We know our network of spies has been compromised and we know the Aquarius Abbey is being watched, and we also know it is only a matter of time before the Archbishop puts this treason he is planning into action. Yet still we play this cautious game of wait and see. I say again. We should advise the king and his inner council to take the initiative, as Lord Fairfax and Lord Kyran have suggested. That way this meeting and the evil it is suggesting would not be necessary!”

  “No, no, no!” Candlelight deepened the wrinkles in Father Daylon’s aged face as he repeatedly struck the stone with a clenched fist. “The duty to defend the king and realm from this evil is ours. It is we who must act. We take the snake’s head, and all this will be done with.”

  “You mean murder?” Brother Mark’s voice held its usual considered tone.

  How many times they had laboured this point, Joseph could not remember but he was wearied by it.

  “It is a lesser evil than civil war will bring, Brother Mark. If this treason is allowed to move to the field of battle, the Archbishop will have no reason to keep his business secret and we will be responsible for unleashing knowledge on the world of which the end is an unimaginable evil. That we delay in taking the snake’s head from his shoulders is an evil in itself.”

  “Brother Daylon is right. We must act now. We kill a tyrant to save a people, perhaps even a continent,” Brother Wilaby put in.

  “I disagree.”

  Every eye turned to the Lord Cardinal. Warren was sitting next to Joseph, and together they constituted the head of the Reformist Church in Arkaelyon. “The Archbishop will not move without the book in his possession, and we all know that can not be. We need to trust that the king acts rightly in this matter and not subvert his authority. Because if we do this, brothers, if we assassinate the Archbishop, regardless of the greater good his death will bring, we break our own oaths as men of the divine and sacred and servants to the de Brie throne, and in so doing we act in disbelief and disobedience to the gods …”

  “Yes, your Lordship, perhaps. But if the Aquarius Brotherhood had not contravened their reformist vows or the will of the monarchy two hundred years ago, Arkaelyon, noble and peasant alike, would still be enslaved to the Larniusian Druids and every realm and kingdom of the continent with them. We must act now as they did then. A small evil for a greater good.”

  Argument broke out again, as fierce as ever.

  “Brothers, brothers, please,” Joseph said, wearily. He had had too little sleep in the last couple of days. “They stole a book, not a life, and did so not knowing half of what we do.”

  “If we do not act, book or no book, the archbishop will plunge this realm into civil war,” Father Dayton said.

  “I beg to differ,” Joseph replied. “ The Archbishop may wish to advance his plans without the book, but his supporters are not so blinded by zeal—at least not all of them. Most will not commit their banners to a war they cannot win. And without the book, they will know that that could very well be their fate.”

  His brothers burst into argument around him.

  Joseph lifted a hand for quiet and when it wasn’t forthcoming he bellowed irritably for quiet. Something odd had caught his attention. Now they all heard it. Or more to the point what they didn’t hear. The plain song in the cathedral above had stopped. It meant something was wrong; the plain song should have continued throughout afternoon prayers. Joseph was about to ask Father Malba to go above and find out what was happening when he heard a woman’s voice, high and shrill. A familiar voice he recognised at once as belonging to Danielle, and a glance at the faces of those around him was enough to see he wasn’t alone.

  “What would Danielle be doing here?” Warren asked, before blowing his nose.

  “I wish I knew.”

  A solid clunk sounded from the passageway that led up to the cathedral above, then Danielle’s voice came more clearly. She was apologising and thanking someone all at once.

  This interruption had all the members staring at each other, not sure what to say, for it was utterly unacceptable. Not in all Joseph’s lifetime had the sanctity of this chamber been violated by one who did not wear the brown habit of the reformist faith.

  He took his stick and struggled to his feet. “Thank you, brothers, I will handle this.”

  “I believe that our good lady at least would understand and support the necessity of this meeting and support the ends we seek,” Brother Daylon said pointedly.

  Joseph ignored him. The man was almost as hot tempered as their princess. Almost. “Please do not proceed, until I return.” Joseph crossed to the steep narrow stairway that lead up to the rectory. Light shone on the walls ahead and hurried footfalls were coming his way.

  “Danielle.”

  The footfalls ceased. “Yes, Joseph?”

  “Come no further.”

  “I have to speak with you. Truly, I am sorry for this violation, but the matter is extremely important.”

  Somehow he doubted that. Besides, he’d told her they’d speak before the banquet. “I’ll come to you. Now go back up to the rectory.”

  He climbed slowly, his breath growing more laboured, but at last the doorway appeared and he stepped out into a modest high-beamed chamber used by the servants of the Cathedral to take their meals.

  Danielle stood nervously by the fireplace, waiting. She was so pale in face and limb she looked very much like some harassed ghost in a white gown. Father Jarivus seemed his usual apologetic self. James, meanwhile, was standing by the door, less than happy, and by the way his glare had settled on his charge it was clear he hadn’t agreed with this course of action: and for good reason, since the girl still had a sword in her hand.

  “Please do not tell me that you gained entrance to this chamber at sword point?” Joseph asked.

  Danielle looked stricken. “I am sorry. Please forgive me, but I must speak with you.”

  “Danielle, you will sheath that weapon and have it out of here at once.”

  James came forward, but she moved away from him, defiance flashing in her eyes. “Only if you will hear me first.”

  He looked to James. “You allowed this?”

  “Perhaps it would be easier if you listened to her, Father.”

>   There was something in James’ bearing that made him think there might be some wisdom in that even if they could have done without the interruption. Danielle too looked half terrified, and he suddenly realised her gown was torn and her hair a ruin. “Then speak, lass.”

  “Do you know the history of my mother’s sword?”

  “Please do not tell me you have broken into this council to ask …”

  She had taken the blade of her sword in one hand and was now offering him the handle. Why he could not guess.

  “Joseph, just take it. Look at the blade by the light of a candle. You’ll see why I’m here. At least partly why I’m here.”

  He motioned for Father Jarivus to bring him a candelabra from one of the long rough timber tables. When it arrived Joseph held the blade to the light and squinted through his glasses. Be damned if he could see anything. “Danielle what is this about?”

  “Kane wasn’t alone on the highway. He had our first nursemaid with him. You may recall Fren?”

  Joseph wasn’t surprised to hear this. If anything it confirmed their suspicions.

  “She knows of my dream, and she is most certainly a druid, for she turned into a crow right before my eyes and flew away after demanding to see the mark I bear. Then just now, on my balcony, two crows attacked me and when I ventured back outside to retrieve my mother’s sword, we found blood on the blade and the words Sa Harmti a itha woma voim Ohma latas sa qetopis remtum a lurum.”

  “Druid’s Bane, she who is first among the children of light?” he translated. “Well I can’t see any such thing here.”

  “It’s there.”

  “I saw the writing as well, Milord,” James offered.

  She took the sword back and held it up to the light and sure enough the words materialised in the black steel.

  Joseph suspected he knew well enough what was going on here. “James, would you hold the blade to the light.” The protector did as asked and the words faded and quickly disappeared.