The Wrong Scapegoat: A Mythic Fantasy Novel (Ravens of the Morrigan)

by Cornelius Flynn

  Phineas steps out from behind Gwen. “Ah! This explains a lot. It has been many years since last we saw you, Master of the Green.” He bows with a flourish. “Welcome.”

  “You know, nobody has called me that name for a very long time, young Phineas. It sounds strange now.” He indicates the area with his pipe stem. “They have other names for me here, but we don’t need to discuss that now, do we? I think we have more pressing matters to deal with.”

  Gwen rounds on Phineas. “You know him?”

  “Not exactly know. More, have encountered in the past, when I was much younger. In fact, when the world was much younger.”

  The others lean forward to study the old druid with interest. He waves his hands at them, pipe smoke wafting around in the air.

  “Didn’t your elders ever teach you that it is rude to stare? Now stop that or I shall not tell you where to find the antidote for basilisk venom.”

  “There is no antidote for Basilisk venom.” Phineas allows a sigh to escape.

  “Really?” The druid taps his teeth with the pipe. “You’re certain of that, all-knowledgeable Phineas, Oracle of the Gods, Keeper of the Secret Book of Knowledge, Tamer of the…”

  “Enough!” Phineas cuts him off, bowing again. “I apologise, my lord, Master of the Green. It appears that I don’t know everything.”

  “Did someone say you did?” The druid’s eyes twinkle even more.

  “You have it?” Piper asks.

  “Have what?” The druid notices his pipe has gone out and starts patting his robe, looking for something.

  “The cure for Basilisk venom.” Piper watches the old man.

  “There is one?” The druid asks, stopping his motions to stare at him

  “You just said there was!” Piper groans in frustration. “Do you have it?”

  “Ah. That cure!” He flicks his thumb in the air and a blue flame dances on its tip, from which he re-lights his pipe. “No. I do not have it.”

  He puffs a few times to get the bowl burning properly, then blows his thumb-flame out.

  “I know where it is, though.” He points the pipe stem at Piper. “In fact, I know what it is and where it is and how someone must acquire it.”

  “Well, why didn’t you just bring it with you? That way we could give it to the prince and this whole mess would be over and done with.” Wildcat points out.

  “Because, that would break the rules and we’re not allowed to break the rules, are we, Phineas?” He turns his head slowly from side to side, muttering. “Oh, no, no, no.”

  They all turn and stare at Phineas.

  “He’s right. We’re not allowed to break the rules.”

  He moves a chair closer to the old man, so he can sit near him. “Well that’s one way of looking at it. The other way of looking at it is that it is impossible for us to break the rules, isn’t it, Gwen?”

  Gwen turns to face him. A look passes between them at which her cheeks flush. She drops her head and turns away. “Yes, it’s impossible.” She mutters, walking to busy herself at the bar.

  “Do tell. What exactly are these rules then, my fine fellows?” Piper asks them. “I do so love a good story, don’t you?” He asks the others spreading his hands expansively.

  “We don’t have time to go into that right now. Nor do I have the inclination to do so since we would be discussing matters that predate the existence of much of your race.” Phineas adjust his position in the chair. “Now, I think we should listen to this learned gentleman and see what it is that he wishes to tell us.”

  The others turn to look at the old Druid once again, trying to wrap their minds around the idea that the grinning, pipe smoking, forgetful, and somewhat haggard-looking, old man possesses something which could be described as learning.

  “Do not let his looks fool you.” Phineas chuckles. “He knows more things which he’s not allowed to share than the sum total knowledge of the Fae.”

  “Secrets?” Wildcat leans forward towards the old man. “You could tell me some secrets. I’m very good at keeping secrets.”

  The old man blows a smoke ring in her direction and points at her with the stem of his pipe. “Indeed. You are very good at keeping secrets. Unfortunately, my secrets are not suitable for one such as you to keep. That is why they are secrets.”

  He looks around towards the bar. “All this talking and smoking is making my throat very dry, do you think I could possibly have some ale, my dear Horse-Maiden.”

  Gwen’s head whips around at his use of this name for her. “How…? Nobody knows that!”

  The old man’s face breaks into a huge smile, so much so that his twinkling eyes almost disappear above his rising cheeks. “And yet, here I sit. Thirsting. My mouth a desert. Sand trickles through my teeth…”

  Phineas laughs out loud and nods to Gwen who pours a tankard of ale from one of the barrels behind the bar and brings it over to the old man. He reaches forward with his left hand, raises it to his lips and drains it in one draft banging the tankard down noisily on the wooden table. “Wonderful, as ever. I keep telling everyone that the Capra is the best tavern in the realm, but it seems that most of them have never heard of it. Now, where was I?”

  He looks at his pipe which has almost gone out and begins patting himself around his robes again, searching for his weed pouch.

  “You were about to tell us what the cure is for Basilisk poison and how we can acquire it, my dear Sir.” Piper speaks up. “I don’t want to hurry you too much, but the prince is dying, the evil temple people are going to gain control and nobody even knows who’s in charge of the whole plot yet. So, if you could see your way to just, you know, telling us, that would be absolutely wonderful.”

  The old man, having found the pouch, is tamping some fresh weed into the end of his pipe bowl.

  “Yes, the cure. Well, it is quite simple really, you just need some of the sap from the Great Oak in the Wood at the End of the World. That’s it, really.”

  He picks up one of the sheets of paper from the table which is covered in the strange ancient Macedonian script and begins to screw it up to make a taper with which to light his pipe. Lightning leans forward quickly and snatches it out of his hands.

  “You can’t light your pipe with that!” She exclaims, unravelling the paper and trying to smooth it out.

  “Well, not now I can’t. I couldn’t have anyway, since I hadn’t set fire to it yet.” He reaches for another of the sheets of paper when Gwen’s hand appears on his, drawing it back slowly and providing him with a taper from the pot on the shelf behind him.

  “Those papers are important, Old Father. Please use this one.”

  Phineas has been silent. They turn to look and see he is leaning up against the side of the booth, his eyes closed and his head in his hands.

  “What’s wrong?” Gwen asks.

  “The Wood at the End of the World. That is what’s wrong.” He replies. “How are we supposed to get there? Nobody knows the way into the Wood.”

  Sucking and puffing hard through his pipe with the newly lit taper over the packed weed, his cheeks going in and out as he does so, the old Druid looks up at him and exhales a puff of smoke as he says “I do.”

  “Of course you do.” Phineas says. “So, why don’t you just go in there and get it for us.”

  The old druid removes his pipe from his lips once again, raises his eyebrows and just looks at Phineas.

  Phineas takes a deep breath and then lets it out slowly sighing as he does so.

  “The rules. It is always the rules. Why is it that the people causing all the trouble seem to be able to break them, but we can’t?”

  “Because, my young alfr, that would make us as bad as they are, and we wouldn’t want that would we?” He replies, sucking quickly on his pipe several times to keep it lit and then inhaling deeply with a satisfied smile on his face.

  “I don’t understand that either.” Piper says, pushing his tankard away from himself on the table and leaning back in his chair. “Su
rely, if the people causing all this trouble are breaking the rules then we should be allowed to break them too. Or someone should do something about them breaking the rules and, I don’t know, enforce them or some such. It hardly seems fair otherwise.”

  “Indeed.” Phineas stands and places his foot on the chair next to the old man, leaning over his knee to look him directly in the eyes, wafting some of the smoke away from himself. “I never really understand who does enforce these rules. Perhaps you could enlighten us, since you’re uniquely able to understand the situation of course.”

  “Now, it hardly seems right to expect me to discuss private business of that nature with all these hasty younger races around. You know as well as I do the trouble that was caused before these rules were in place. You’ll all just have to take my word for it that things are in hand and that the elders behind this trouble will be dealt with. Unfortunately, that doesn’t help your current situation.”

  He puffs on his pipe then talks while he exhales. “I cannot interfere directly, but I am allowed to guide one person to the entrance as long as that one person has been directly harmed by the actions of the one responsible.”

  “You’re starting to sound like a lawyer.” Gwen says. “Can’t you just say it more plainly?”

  Taking another deep inhalation from his pipe, the old druid smiles and points at Piper.

  “Only he can enter. Is that simple enough for you?”

  “But he’ll be powerless to face the perils of The Wood.” Gwen looks shocked. “How can he stand against the evils that lie within that place.”

  “Evils?” The old druid leans forward in his chair to look at her more closely. “What evils?”

  “I’m sure all of us have heard the tales of the Wood at the World’s End and how many have never returned from it. It seems that when you send someone to that wood you’re sending them to their death, unless perhaps you send a Lord of the Fae.”

  “There is no evil in the Wood, my dear tavern keeper. Those who don’t return from the Wood do so for reasons of their own, not because they were struck down whilst within it.”

  “You’re trying to claim that they remain there because they want to?” Phineas asks.

  “Oh yes. They very much desire to remain there. You’ve never been, so you can’t understand, young Phineas. Only those who are worthy can leave the Wood with that which they seek, and only they can judge their own worth.” He turns and winks at Piper. “After all, only the Piper can call the tune, can he not?”

  The other companions laugh to hear one of Piper’s favourite phrases turned against him in this way.

  Sitting back in his chair, Piper rests the fingertips of his left hand against his forehead and groans. “Very well. If I must go then I shall go, lead on, Old Man.”

  “Not yet, young Piper.” Phineas holds up his hand. “It’s all very well rushing off to find the antidote to cure the poison with which the prince has been inflicted, but first I think you may require some kind of plan. One that will allow you to gain access to him for long enough to succeed.”

  There are general murmurs of agreement around the table.

  “So what do you suggest?” Lightning chews on what was left of Piper’s uneaten lunch.

  “I suggest that you try to determine who remains loyal to the prince and see what assistance they might be able to provide, once you explain the situation to them.”

  “I say, do you expect us to just march up to the castle and shout ‘who wants to help the prince?’ I don’t think that’ll work, going by what happened in our last couple of visits there.” Piper shakes his head.

  Gwen rests her hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m sure that you’ll find a solution to this problem too, otherwise why would the tavern have chosen the four of you for this job?”

  Chapter 20

  John Yovvan opens his eyes in unfamiliar surroundings.

  He’s groggy and unsure how he got here. A familiar voice is speaking, and he looks around to find he’s seated in a sturdy chair by a table, along with others he recognises.

  “Oh good. I am so glad you’re finally with us. Now we can begin.” Piper strides round to the front of the table. “I asked you all to be here today so we can discuss the situation, and what we can do to assist Llewellyn. I hope the meeting hasn’t inconvenienced any of you, but time is of the essence.”

  “Asked? Who was asked?” Bronwyn strains against the rope holding her to the chair, shouting. “Last thing I remember was sitting down in my chambers to brush my hair and some ruffian grabbed me from behind, then I wake up here!”

  “Really, Bronwyn, that tone of voice is not suitable for a lady.” Piper tuts. “Have a little decorum; a little deportment. We’re here to discuss important matters.”

  John tries to stand and finds he’s held by sturdy rope around his midriff. He grasps it tightly, looking for the knot, aiming to untie it.

  “I am terribly sorry, my dear captain, but if you continue to wriggle about like that I shall be forced to have one of my associates render you unconscious again, which would be most inconvenient and would prevent you from taking part in our meeting, don’t you think?”

  “You, William, are wanted in connection with the attack on our prince and you know it.” The captain seethes. “You’re a fugitive from the law and it’s my duty to apprehend you.”

  “Fiddlesticks!” Piper leans in closer. “You don’t believe I did this, and neither does Bronwyn.” He looks across at her. “Nor does your sergeant here, or the few others we’ve invited along for this little chat.”

  “None of us were invited.” The captain growls. “We were abducted and brought here against our will, which is why we’re tied to these chairs. Guards! Guards!” He shouts.

  “There’s no point shouting, so please stop. All you’re going to do is give everyone a headache. We’re in a deep cellar outside the town and nobody can hear you.” He sits on the edge of the table. “If you behave we won’t have to knock you out again. I understand the drug is harmless, unless you use it too often. It would be a terrible shame to have such a fine mind sitting dribbling in the corner, wouldn’t it?”

  He stops struggling and regards Piper. “I don’t know what you’re up to William, but this is not the way to go about it.”

  “What I’m up to? What I’m up to is trying to prove my innocence and to save your prince from the foul and nefarious plot which targets him.” He opens his arms wide. “I could have just run away, started a new life somewhere else, or simply picked up one that I already own — I have several you know — but I didn’t. I stayed here because it’s the right thing to do, old boy, and I always try to do the right thing.”

  “William, untie me at once.” Bronwyn stamps her foot as best she can, considering the rope around her ankles.

  “I am deeply sorry, Bronwyn but, until we’ve all discussed this matter, I cannot release any of you, but I can assure you that I don’t mean you any harm. Out of all the people in the castle, you were the few that we can guarantee are still loyal to Llewellyn.” He waves to indicate shadowy figures standing in the darkness at the edges of the room. “These others, my associates, are assisting me in my task. They seek, as do I, the restoration of his health and position.”

  The figures wrapped in hooded cloaks, their faces concealed, all take a bow.

  “This man is a wanted criminal, by associating with him you’re all making yourselves guilty of the same offences.” The captain fights his bonds again.

  “Yes, yes, they all know. They know everything, unlike you.” He leans in towards John again. “You think you know what’s going on but you’re being lied to. I’m here to expose the truth to you all. We still don’t know exactly what’s going on, but we understand we can stop it by destroying the temple’s influence and putting Llewellyn back in charge.”

  “What have the temple got to do with this?” Bronwyn asks.

  “Now, that’s a very interesting question. Allow me to elucidate.” He perches on
a large stool in the centre of the semicircle of unwilling attendees, and explains what they need to know.

  Listening to the shouted arguments from his audience, Piper turns to face his compatriots.

  “Well, that went better than expected. Everything’s now absolutely perfect and I think we should go home.”

  “I told you this wouldn’t work.” A female voice hisses back at him. “They’re all too stupid to understand.”

  “You dismiss them so easily, my sweet, give them time. They all have minds which are adequate for the task, they just need to move beyond their preconceptions.” He turns to face them again.

  “When you’ve all finished with this boorish shouting, perhaps we can get back to the task in hand: saving Prince Llewellyn, and Gwynedd, from the machinations of the secret order within the temple.”

  “If these people are so powerful, why is it that no one has heard about them before?” John asks.

  Piper sighs heavily. “The clue’s in the name, my dear captain. You know — The Secret Order? It wouldn’t be very secret if everyone knew about it, would it? I’ve presented all the evidence to view.”

  He indicates all the documents on the table with translations and extra pages detailing which poison was used. “I’m not making this up. I have no reason to be here if I’m guilty.”

  “He’s got a point there.” The sergeant says, nodding towards Piper. “I may not be well-educated like the rest of you, but if I was guilty of what he’s been accused of, and had managed to escape twice, I sure as hell wouldn’t have come back. I’d be a couple of hundred miles south by now. Probably on a boat out of here.”

  “I never truly believed William was guilty.” Bronwyn turns to face John. “I agree with your sergeant. He wouldn’t be here any more. I can’t see what he gains by staying either, unless he’s telling us the truth.”

  Murmurs of assent are heard from others in the assembly. John sits up straight in his chair and stares directly at Piper.

  “Assuming that everything you’ve said is true, how can you prove it and capture the conspirators responsible?”