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

by Cornelius Flynn

  “I’ve presented all the proof, and I have other witnesses to those involved in this plot.”

  He indicates the figures in the shadows once more.

  “If we don’t act quickly it will be too late. Llewellyn will waste away and die. David will take over the running of the state full-time as they seem to desire, and you’ll all be serving a new master.”

  “That puzzles me. Why didn’t you ‘invite’ David to this meeting? Since this is for those loyal to Prince Llewellyn, does that mean you question his loyalty?”

  “Something doesn’t sit right about his situation. We discussed this at length.” Piper sighs. “If the plan is for David to become the new prince, then we can’t include him. I’m not sure if him, or his wife, is the issue, but since they turned me over to the temple at the fountain, I can’t trust them.”

  “But David has been so helpful. I can’t believe he’s part of this plot.” Bronwyn frowns. “He was as upset as I was, when the knights beat you.”

  “Neither can I, my dear Lady, but something stinks like a week-old fish here and I’ve been unable to unravel it. I’ll have to leave that part of the discovery to the excellent Mister Bracken here, who, as I fully expected, has remained silent.”

  “As you knew I would, Mister Gracie.” Charles Bracken looks up. “I’m in the business of gathering information and I find that’s best achieved by listening, not speaking.”

  “You’ve always had a level head, Charles. What do you think about this?” The captain asks.

  “I say that these explanations and evidence make a better story than we’ve been working with so far. My own spies have had their suspicions about the temple for some time. Just whispers that didn’t make sense.”

  He addresses Bronwyn. “I’m sure our Lord Abbot has no idea what’s going on underneath his nose. The hidden chambers beneath the temple show how deep the influence of this other sect reaches. I’m willing to look into this more deeply.”

  “Excellent!” Piper responds. “I knew I could count on you to look at things sensibly. Don’t worry, I’m not expecting anyone to hand me a Royal Pardon. We just need to know that we won’t be alone in our efforts to revive dear Llewellyn.”

  “You can do that?” Bronwyn turns to face him so quickly that her hair lashes out across her face. “You can save Llewellyn?”

  “Apparently, dear Bronwyn, yes — we can. We’ll be leaving to collect the antidote to his condition.” A snort from one of the hooded figures causes him to rephrase his statement. “Very well. We’ll be leaving to attempt to collect the antidote. Unfortunately, it won’t be an easy trip.”

  “Attempt to find? You mean you don’t know where it is?” Bronwyn looks crestfallen.

  “We have one who knows exactly where it is, but it’s a rare item and not easy to gather.” Piper’s face breaks into a huge smile. “He’s assured me I’ll succeed once we get there.”

  “How does it work?” The captain asks.

  “It’ll be a liquid. We pour a drop of it into his mouth and wait for it to act. Then he can awaken, proclaim my innocence and return things to normality, whilst Mister Bracken here roots out the plotters against him and deals with them in an appropriate manner.”

  “How long will it take to work?”

  “Now that we’re not sure of, but I’ve been told it will be less than one hour, but more than several minutes. That’s where you Gentlemen, and Lady, come in.”

  He stands back to look at them all.

  “We need to buy time to defend Prince Llewellyn until he wakes. We can hold his chambers against any assault which might come, but some assistance outside wouldn’t go amiss.”

  “If it will bring my Llewellyn back to me, you shall have what ever aid you might need, William.” Bronwyn smiles.

  The captain thinks for a few moments and then nods, looking at his sergeant who grunts in agreement.

  “We’re with you, Mister Gracie. We can’t attack the knights without provocation, but we’ll do what we can to slow them down.”

  “Please, call me Piper – all my friends do.” He smiles. “We must be going now, but we’ll untie you first. Give us time to get away before you present yourselves.”

  “How are we to get back to the castle?” Bronwyn looks around for the exit as her ropes are removed.

  Charles Bracken chuckles. “My lady, we are in the castle. I’d recognise this stonework anywhere.”

  Piper laughs. “And that, my dear Charles, is why you are the Spymaster.”

  “You are certain of this?” The Capo asks.

  “Absolutely. The information is completely reliable. It comes from someone entrusted with it who didn’t realise that they were passing it along to one of us.”

  “And obviously we cannot just kill the prince now?” He waves his hands as his informant prepares to reply. “It was a rhetorical question. Well, we must stop them. When we adopted this plan I was told that there was no antidote – it appears we’ve been misinformed.”

  “So it would seem, Ordo.” He bows.

  “Find out why we didn’t know this, just in case someone is playing both sides here. I’ll organise pursuit of those seeking the cure.” He picks up his goblet, swirls the wine around in the bottom, raising it to his lips and draining it.

  “Send the marshal in after you leave, we have much to discuss.”

  Piper picks up the small crystal vial off the table and examines it critically, before pursing his lips then holding it between his finger and thumb up to the light.

  “It’s rather small, isn’t it? I mean, basilisks are such huge things. Are you sure this will be enough to do the job?”

  The Druid smiles. “The item in question is very potent. One drop from that flask should be enough. Should you gather extra I would suggest that you save them for a day when fortune’s winds do not blow favourably in your own life.”

  Wildcat suddenly shows more interest.

  “Is there any way I can get some of that?”

  The Druid raises his eyebrows at her, until she pouts and scuffs the floor with her foot.

  “I was only asking.”

  “And I’m sure that everyone is aware that you would put it to no good use.” Filippo chuckles and ducks as Wildcat attempts to swat him with a backhand. “Oh, how the truth hurts.”

  “I’ll show you some hurt in a minute.” She steps forward. “Cheeky beggar. I’ll have you know I’ve completed many valorous tasks and have performed very well.”

  “Everyone knows you measure your level of performance by your bank balance.” Lightning grins. “Please stop pretending you do things for the common good. We’ve all known you far too well, and for far too long. That’s why we’re friends.”

  “Well, everyone has to pay the rent somehow.” Wildcat folds her arms across her chest. “It’s the end result that matters, isn’t that right Phineas?”

  The Fae Lord hears his name and turns to see what she wants, having been deep in conversation with Gwen.

  “I’m sorry, did I miss something important.”

  The others around the table burst into roars of laughter as Wildcat folds her arms across her body and stamps her foot, as petulant as ever.

  “We’ve found them, Sir.”

  “You’re certain?” The robed figure stays in the shadows.

  “One of our informants saw them leaving town quietly with that old druid.”

  “How much of a head start do they have?” He looks up, estimating the time from the weak sunlight piercing the clouds.

  “Perhaps half an hour, at most. We can ride them down quickly.”

  “Very well. Take care of it.” He tucks his hands back inside the sleeves of his robes. “No witnesses, please.”

  “The old man too?”

  “If he’s still with them, yes.” He grunts. “I want no more surprises.”

  The four, accompanied by the old druid, enter the heart of the woods.

  A light breeze ruffles the leaves. Birds, disturbed by their passing,
chirp and screech, flitting into the higher branches as the party move below them.

  “I still don’t understand why we can’t all go together, or even bring Phineas with us, to fetch this tree sap.” Filippo’s legs have to move faster than the others to keep up. He’s now at his shortest owing to the phase of the moon.

  The old druid glances down at him.

  “Oh, sorry, didn’t I say? The Wood doesn’t exist in this world as you know it. I’m sure Phineas understood, and Gwen, as you call her.”

  He chews on his lip for a few seconds, deep in thought. “It’s rather hard to explain but, as I told our friend Piper here, only one may enter, and they may only enter once.”

  “So, it’s not a real place then?” Lightning asks.

  “It’s real, my dear girl, very real indeed. As others have pointed out, it’s a most perilous place, but not for the reasons you think.”

  “There’s something familiar about all this.” Lightning murmurs, as they continue to walk. “I’ve heard this before.”

  “Perhaps you have.” The druid replies, leading them deeper into the wood. “There are many tales…”

  “We’re being followed!” Wildcat stops so suddenly that Piper bumps into her and stumbles.

  “What? Who could track us here?” He asks. “How do you know?”

  They all stop and concentrate looking along their back trail for signs of pursuers.

  “I should have known sooner, but I was enjoying myself too much thinking about the excitement ahead and not paying enough attention to my friends.” She points back behind them. “A group of soldiers are approaching from that direction. I’m guessing they’ll be on us in a matter of minutes. They look ready to fight.”

  “Who are they?”

  Wildcat sighs and shrugs. “My friends of the forest have been avoiding them, but watching them. They see them as a hunting party of armed humans and I’d say that the fact they’re on our trail means we’re the prey.”

  “How large a group are we talking about?” Filippo examines the terrain around them.

  “Cats don’t count well, but from the impressions they’re giving me I’d guess at least a dozen.”

  “Magnifico!” He loosens his sword. “I’ve been itching for a good fight. I’m sick of sneaking about and hiding.”

  Piper laughs and slaps him on the back. “That’s what I love about you, old horse, the subtlety.” He turns to the Druid. “How much further do we have to go?”

  “We’re almost there.” He points to the river which they have been following towards its source. “It’s only a short distance now to the waterfall, and that’s our destination.”

  “Is it defensible?” Filippo asks. “This place wouldn’t be good to fight. Nothing to cover our backs, and they could come at us from all sides.”

  “The more the merrier.” Wildcat grins.

  “I’m afraid I’m no warrior, so I couldn’t say for certain, but there’s a steep cliff wall behind the waterfall and trees along the edge of the water by the pool.”

  “Then I say we get there quickly and set up our defence.” He nods to Wildcat. “Stay alert and stay in touch with those friends of yours. As soon as our destination’s in sight I’ll have Lightning scout the area, she knows what I need. The three of us can hold them off while Piper goes for the sap.”

  They speed up their pace, the old Druid suddenly remarkably sprightly for his age and proving that he can match them step for step in a forced march.

  They round the corner of the slowly flowing river to see it opening into a deep black pool. The roar of the waterfall makes communication harder. They approach along the bank and soon reach the cliff wall beside the huge cascade.

  “So which tree is it, old chap?” Piper asks looking around himself at the stately forest.

  “The others may defend here, young Piper, but we have further to travel.” He points to the waterfall. “We go through there.”

  “Are you mad? We’ll drown, or be smashed to bits on the rocks.”

  The old man cackles and walks straight towards the cliff wall… and vanishes.

  “What on earth?” They all rush forward to where he disappeared and find a cleft in the wall. Peering past him they see a narrow rising passage that curves around to the left towards the waterfall.

  “It looks like this is where we make our stand.” Filippo unstraps his weapons.

  “That would be wise.” The old Druid says. “Otherwise, your dear friend will not make it back out of this passage alive.”

  Piper follows the old man into the narrow damp passage which will apparently lead them behind the waterfall.

  The walls look natural, the rock is solid and yet the passage curves backwards with a precision that spits in the face of nature. He drags his fingertips along the rough stone as he passes, seeking chiselling and finding none.

  A faint light ahead, almost a glow, infuses the tunnel as he speeds up to catch the old druid. The sandy floor shifts underfoot near the end of the tunnel. They’ve been walking for some time, and they’ve not climbed at all, yet the end of the passage opens onto a grassy clearing lit from above.

  In the centre stands a huge, twisted tree.

  His mouth opens as he gazes around. Craning his neck, he tries to see how tall it might be but it rises for a long, long way and the canopy prevents him seeing more. They’re not looking at daylight. The glow surrounding the tree carries a greenish tint.

  “Well, here we are, Piper. Are you ready?”

  “Ready? Ready for what exactly? You still haven’t given me any details about what it is I’m supposed to do. Do I poke this tree with the bottle?”

  The old man sits on a huge root, his hands out for support, and cocks his head on one side, looking back at Piper.

  “I suppose I could say something wise or deep or meaningful here, or sound like a mysterious sage, but none of that would help you, young Piper. This is your doorway. Only you can enter and only you can succeed once you’re within the Wood.”

  Piper walks part of the way around the trunk looking behind the tree.

  “What wood? There’s one tree here.”

  “The tree is the doorway and it will open for you. Before you enter, however, you must be aware that the world beyond is not like any you’ve encountered. The laws of your world and of the Otherland do not exist there. It’s a place out of time, and a time out of place.”

  Piper prods the tree with his foot. “None of what you say is making any sense old man. How can a place not be a place? What are you talking about?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t make it more clear. You’ll just have to take my word for it. Once you enter you’ll be as you were meant to be and any influence the goddess might have had over your life will be gone.” He stands. “We’re wasting precious time while your friends defend us, you must enter.”

  “Enter? Enter what? There’’s nothing to enter. It’s just a tree!” Piper’s frustration rises.

  The old man laughs. “Did I not say that it exists only for you?” He pokes Piper’s chest. “You are the Piper, so pipe!”

  “Really?”

  He turns to the tree and reaches inside his shirt to withdraw the strange pipe, fashioned from the magical horn of a mythical creature. He raises it to his lips and begins to play.

  The enormous twisted tree slowly spins widdershins and separates into two halves to create an oval opening in the centre. An eldritch light flickers back and forth between the double trunks and looks for all the world to be a strange window, or a portal into a storm.

  “Remember, young prince, once you step through, you’ll be the Piper no more. Fill the flask and return to me if you can. It’s all in your hands now.”

  Chapter 21

  Piper steps through the tree and emerges into a lush land where the sun beams down, insects buzz, butterflies flit across hundreds of coloured flowers, and in the distance he can see an enormous tree.

  He does not feel that magnificent is an adequate enough word for i
t.

  The tree rises majestically, spreading out and reaching back towards the horizon. Birds are constantly alighting on it and flying away again to circle and feed upon it. His eyesight is sharper, and he can see small mammals running along its branches. The beauty overwhelms him and he stands, his mouth agape, as he stares at it in wonder.

  A shocked expression crosses his face and his mouth snaps shut.

  “How can I be feeling this?”

  His emotions of love and joy were taken from him centuries ago after his bargain with the Mórrígan. He’s felt nothing since and lives by a code that enables him to deal fairly with people, as he feels nothing for them.

  Memories come flooding back to him of that time when he sought her out, and she offered her bargain. He shakes and sobs.

  “Cadwallader? Is that thee?”

  He hears her voice, but it cannot be.

  She’s been dead over eight hundred years. He dare not turn to face her in case it’s a trick of this place.

  A gentle touch upon his arm, and he looks down to see her slender hand resting on his sleeve. He shakes it off and drops to his knees crying out.

  “Do not torture me, spirits. Have I not suffered enough?”

  He hears the swish of her dress as she walks around him, screwing his eyes shut, determined not to be deceived by the Wood Beyond the World.

  “Why are you doing this to me? She’s dead. She’s long dead.”

  A hand under his chin lifts it upwards and his closed eyes feel the heat of the sun. The bright light turning his eyelids a brilliant shade of pink.

  “Cadwallader, my love.”

  The brightness of the sun burns as he opens them, and adds to the tears running down his cheeks. His hand comes up to rub his eyes and shade them from the sun. Blinking, he sees her surrounded by the corona of that bright, burning star.

  He rises, takes a step backwards to regard this illusion which feels all too real. It bears her shape, it uses her voice, it holds itself as she once did.

  “Cadwallader, what is amiss? Why do thou step away from me? Do thou love me no longer?” She closes the distance between them in two quick steps and throws herself upon him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist and burying her head into his shoulder. “I have missed thee so much, my love. It has been so long. I thought I would never see thee again.”