The Wrong Scapegoat: A Mythic Fantasy Novel (Ravens of the Morrigan)
Page 33
“As if I would ever let you out of my sight again, husband. Look what happened last time.” She clasps his hand in both of hers. “I also thank you, William. I’m sorry I ever doubted you. Someone went to a lot of trouble to make us think you were guilty, and I was almost fooled. I hope you can forgive me.”
“Nothing to forgive, dear lady. Please don’t think my leaving has anything to do with this. I have an enemy to pursue and, owing to recent events, can no longer maintain my presence here.” He winks.
“You mean things like the way you magically disappeared from our dungeons, assaulted the castle with only two friends, had a strangely designed house from which you also vanished, your patents don’t exist and you recovered from a near fatal wound in less than three days?” Llewellyn raises his eyebrows.
Piper smiles ruefully. “Yes, your grace, some questions must not be answered and, regretfully, that means I have to leave.”
He stands finishing the last piece of bread and washing it down with his wine.
“In many ways, this whole business came to a satisfactory conclusion only because someone chose the wrong scapegoat, not knowing who I really am. For that, you should be grateful and, for that same reason, I must seek them out.”
“Will you ever return?” Bronwyn asks.
“If you should need me, I shall return.” He bows deeply to them both, in a style that was common several centuries earlier, and turns to leave.
“As I always have…”
Back at the tavern the others are waiting for him.
“So, it’s finally over?” Filippo greets him with a warrior’s grasp.
“It is, old boy. The rightful prince is back in charge, the plotters have been chased out and restitution is being made.”
“What about the assassin?” Wildcat lounges against the bar.
“Him I will discuss with Phineas.” Piper touches the empty dagger sheath at his waist. “I’ll find him and, next time, I will call the tune for our dance.”
“Nothing beats good steel…” Filippo nods at Piper’s cracked blade. “Let me take you to Florence before you start, I know a master sword maker there.”
“Want me to come with you too?” Lightning stands, ready to accompany them. “I’m sure I could have disarmed him for you.”
“I’m sure you could, my ebony princess, but this one I will hunt and kill alone. However, a new sword would be marvellous, Filippo.”
He gathers his small shoulder pack and turns to wave to Gwen.
“Take care of them all, dear heart. I’ll be back once I’m done. This one is personal.”
“Describe him to me.” Phineas listens intently as Piper recalls every detail that he can of the combatant he faced alone upon the castle roof.
“These blades of his, you’re sure they were black and not just dull, or dirty in the lack of moonlight?”
“I’m certain of it. He moved with speed and fluidity. He fought like someone with years of experience. Fortunately so do I.” His grin is forced.
“We must assume that he was responsible for the death of the girl too. He’ll be hunted down for that. Our children are precious and the Queen would like to see this resolved,” he pauses and looks directly into Piper’s eyes, “with extreme prejudice, naturally.”
A grim smile crosses his face. “That is my intention.”
“The blades interest me.” Phineas squeezes his bottom lip with his finger and thumb. “I’ve heard a tale of their like from before The Fall. It may only be a legend, but if they’re the same blades, some things survived we weren’t aware of.”
“What’s special about them?” Piper frowns. “Why were they black?”
“According to the legend, a burning stone fell from the heavens and was made of and unknown metal. It needed the hottest fires to work it and they forged thirteen weapons.” He laughs as he continues. “They were rumoured to steal the soul of their victims. I don’t know if that’s possible, but, if they exist, the people who wield them are very dangerous indeed.”
“Were they Fae?” Piper moves his shoulder, feeling a slight pull where the muscle has healed.
“No. They weren’t. They were an Elder races from that time.”
Phineas points to a page in an old book of lore that lies open on his desk.
“They named the swords the Black-Star Blades. Wherever they went chaos followed. We believed they were all destroyed thousands of years ago.”
“What about the false Llewellyn — why did they do that?”
“That was a strange, dark magic.” Phineas shakes his head. “They wanted to replace the prince with their own false leader and, eventually, gain the whole Kingdom on his father’s death.”
“So it was all just about power after all?” Piper purses his lips and sighs.
Phineas laughs. “My dear Piper — it is always about power.”
From the Author
Thank you for reading this story. I hope you enjoyed it. If you did, I would really appreciate a short review, to let others know what you thought. Your opinion matters.
If you found any problems with the text, or story, then please let me know.
I’d love to hear from you either way.
Twitter: @BooksFlynn
Mail: CFlynnBooks@gmail.com
FB: www.facebook.com/cornelius.flynn.77