Why so few? She thought.
He had provided such a precise number to the Circle. Amyrannii was an arrogant self-serving soul, but a follower of Elohim, he could not be.
“It is strange, one mark short of…” said Falbanach.
“The number of God,” said Pythia. “That fool! There is one more who yet lives. Goddess, if the last member of the tribe were to fall into the wrong hands.”
Falbanach moved towards her. “Pythia, you must go back to the Circle.”
“What about you?” she asked.
“What I have done here will turn the wrath of the Circle against me. You must return to them, convince them it was I who betrayed them. Tell them what I have done here, they will have no choice but to label me as the warlock. Only then can I move freely and route out the one behind this. The impostor must be made to feel comfortable. The one responsible will seek me out. Only the event of my death will seal their deception. This is the only way to draw forth the poison that infects our brothers and sisters.”
“The Fand, will they?” asked Pythia.
“The curse is temporary, they will return to their full strength within the hour.”
“Falbanach you know what they will do to you if they believe you have broken your Oath!”
He nodded. “The deceiver must remain comfortable if we are to foil the true warlock.”
“Where will you go?” she asked.
“To the Greatwood. I must see this sanctuary where the apostates were found. I have faith that the Goddess will lead me along the proper course.”
Falbanach regained his corporeal form and picked up his cloak.
“If intuition serves me right, I will also find the missing tribute. You must not let Amyrannii condemn the entire race of the Seræphym, Dagda and the Morrighan can sway the Circle. If they cannot, an entire race of people will be doomed, and whoever has broken their Oath will stay veiled. The winged ones know who has deceived us, perhaps not those under his spell, but the missing tribute has seen his face. If I can find her, I may find salvation for us all.”
Falbanach stood back from Pythia and vanished from sight. She stood for a moment in disbelief.
“Falbanach I hope you know what you are doing. If you fail we all fail.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The Morrighan, the Moon Priestess
Lady of war, Lady of the Lake,
She doth make the warrior’s knees quake,
Leaving trembling masses in her wake.
The fabled chamber sat and stared at one another. Pythia and Falbanach had vanished from sight after Pythia had dropped a bombshell. Each one looked at the other attempting to divine who the traitor was. It was uncharted territory for them all. Among them was someone who had broken their oath. The Morrighan watched their exchanged glances.
“Can it be so,” asked Emyrs? “Could one of us even obtain the power to break the Oath?”
The others looked around the circle. The newborn druids could hardly fathom it.
“Anything is possible,” said the Morrighan. “We may be bound to her by blood, but oaths can be broken. Atum showed us this.”
“The entire purpose of the Oath is to prevent the power we are granted from being misused.” said Amyrannii. “If this were possible, what would hold us to our oaths? We would be no better than Atum.”
The Morrighan glared at the man. His mouth spoke what he wanted others to hear, but her ears detected deception. The others nodded.
“Who among us would even have the power to lift the chains that bind us to her?” said Andraste. “Not even Dagda is strong enough to break those chains.”
She wasn’t wrong though the Morrighan knew Dagda’s experiments with the veil proved otherwise. He had gone around his bonds and forge a new path. A path that would not be well received by the others should they know. If it were to be known, he might be implicated.
“Only one among us is capable of such treachery.” said Amyrannii.
“And who might that be ArchMagus?” asked Dagda.
Amyrannii stood up from his seat and walked to the middle of the circle. “Only one among us has broken from their path. Who else has been forced into druid sleep? He has shown disregard for her sacred laws more than once and been punished for it. I do not believe for one minute that the Goddess ended his sentence. Falbanach must be the one who has turned away from grace.”
Dagda stood. “You would accuse Dian Cecht of abandoning his oath?”
“He has absconded with the High Priestess and forced the entire chamber to linger here while he does Goddess knows what. I say this here and now if the pair of them do not return soon, I will be forced exact my right and give him the blackthorn mark.”
“By my oath I will strike you down where you stand,” said Dagda.
An intervention was necessary if someone did not stand between them the two would cleave the entire chamber. The Morrighan stood up and moved to address the circle. Before she could utter a word, the High Priestess appeared in the center of the circle. She was on her knees, her headdress had been torn from her head and her markings had been smeared. Tears streamed down her face and she cried out, “Goddess protect us, he has broken the seal of the inner sanctum!”
The entire chamber stood in unison and gasped.
“He has gone mad, he struck the Fand with a curse and placed a spell over the cauldron of our Great Mother. He has been possessed by some dark force and fled before I could stop him. Amyrannii you must cast him out at once!” cried Pythia.
The Morrighan could not believe what she heard.
“It cannot be,” said Dagda. “It cannot be, Goddess grant us mercy.”
“Pythia how is this possible?” asked the Morrighan. “Tell us what you saw.”
“The Circle has fallen,” cried Mog Rioth.
“Silence,” barked the Morrighan. “The Circle will never fall.”
The High Priestess stood with the help of Emyrs and Amyrannii. She recounted what Falbanach had said and done. The story was well woven and painted Falbanach as a madman. “He claims his work has just begun. The Goddess, I cannot hear her.” Pythia screamed.
Pythia is this true? The Morrighan asked her.
Their eyes met, and the Morrighan knew this tale was in some degree false. She would not press her more lest they risk someone discovers the connection they had forged. It was clear to the Morrighan that Falbanach was attempting to outmaneuver who it was that had deceived the Hidden Circle.
Amyranii stood before them and declared, “I strike his name from our storied halls, he will forever bear the mark of the Blackthorn. All here are commanded by the power of the Goddess, should they see him, to lay him low, to break his bones, and leave nothing to chance. He is forthwith banished and excommunicated.”
The Morrighan looked at Dagda. His face displayed how crushed he was by the events. She moved to console him but he walked away from her.
“All here must commit every resource in our possession to finding this traitor,” said Amyrannii. “I give you leave to gather your allies and set plans in motion to bring him to justice.”
The chamber dispersed, and the Morrighan watched as Dagda left the chamber defeated. It was a feeling she was sure he had not felt in a long time. She wanted to follow him to explain to him that his beloved brother was not an oath breaker. But for the time being his feelings suited the deception that Falbanach needed.
Morrighan, the enchantress and her apostates. You must examine them at once. Said Pythia.
The Morrighan turned to the High Priestess who hung powerless from the arms of Amyrannii and Emyrs.
“ArchMagus, the apostates you captured from the Greatwood,” questioned the Morrighan.
“Now is not the time, we must see to the High Priestess,” said Amyrannii.
Pythia regained her strength and addressed him, “Emrys can escort me back to my chambers. The Morrighan is correct. The apostates must be examined as soon as possible to determine if they have knowledge of this treacher
y. By my word make it so ArchMagus.”
Amyrannii scowled. “You are her word.”
He bowed before the High Priestess and watched as Emrys escorted her from the chamber. The Morrighan watched him. The little man lusted after Pythia in unholy ways. She had noticed him pining after her, craving her power for centuries. It was a strange affection he bore for the dryad. Men did not breed with the treefolk, nor did they share any common bonds. Still, something about him betrayed his adoration of Pythia.
“If you would follow me, Lady Morrighan,” said Amyrannii.
He led her out of the Grand Temple of the Goddess and to a carriage. They took the road to Druid’s Oath the ancient fortress of the druidic resistance. He did not say a word to her along their journey down the old road. She realized the events of the day had tossed him about as a ship that happened upon a tempest. Part of her delighted in watching the deceitful little man get outplayed in his own game by the ancient Falbanach. She wondered if Amyrannii himself might be the one who had betrayed his oath. He was powerful, deceptive and ambitious. As she examined the many possibilities, she could not conjure any proof of his culpability in such atrocities. He was a petty liar, but he did not display the malice and hatred necessary to turn away from grace. She had seen it before in Atum. Amyrannii was nothing like Atum, he was not as powerful, nor was he as twisted.
“Do you believe Falbanach is the one who has broken his oath?” she asked him.
He appeared shocked by her words. Either he did not expect to speak with her, or he was so jealous of Falbanach and his power he was blinded by it. She read his eyes as he spoke.
“What more proof do you need?” he said. “Did you not see what he did to the High Priestess? And to break into the holiest place on Earth.. It is unforgivable. I may not have liked the old man, but he was troublesome to begin with. You know this better than most Morrighan.”
He was not wrong. Falbanach had broken the rules one too many times, regardless of if he was the one deceiving the Nemeton he would forever wear the Blackthorn mark for what he had done today. He would not be easily found, nor dispatched. She wondered how the old beggar believed he would get out of this one.
“Falbanach has always been a thorn in my side. We disagreed about man’s place in the world. A point you two shared sympathies I believe.” she said.
“Believing mankind can be saved is not detriment Morrighan, even Dagda would tell you that man has a part to play in this grand cosmic play. If only you and the other Fae saw this, we might lift the this world from conflict.”
He was an idealist, and he believed in the redemption of his race. She admired his loyalty to them though she would never again bring herself to believe the sons of Atum were capable of defeating the demons that lay within their hearts. They were forever flawed, and she had vowed to ensure they never returned to power as they had under Atum’s rule. The Morrighan looked out the carriage window and watched the landscape of Eíre pass them by. She slipped away into dreams of the old age before she had been born into the land of the living. She and the others, the progenitors of the Fae had lived here once, as spirits, in the time before Atum.
“Have I ever told you what this land was like before your father fell to disgrace?” she asked him. He shook his head. “We were but spirits then, companions of man. They valued us and we saw how beautiful they were. I remember the first time I saw him. He shone like the midday sun, and our mother loved him. I believe no one loved her as he did. They were perfection embodied.”
“You speak as though you admired him.” he said.
“All of us did. He was a beacon of perfection, the only being to be self conceived. How could we not stand in awe of his presence?” she paused. “But to fly so close to the sun, one must fall. His love for his children exceeded his love for our Mother, and thus he cast her aside to bring glory to his name. That young Amyrannii is unforgivable.”
The carriage stopped, and she looked at him. “So you can see why I cannot forgive man. He did not break only her heart, but the heart of us all.”
She stepped from the carriage and looked upon the ancient fortress. The stones rose from the ground and scraped the skies. Ornate blue spirals spun their way across moss covered stone. Bards hustled and Ovydds bustled as the festival was days away. The tower was as high as the spire in Formene, the lecture halls matched the archives of the Acropolis. Nowhere else in the world would one see such masterful craft. The pair ascended the stone steps to the main citadel, beneath which were the dungeons where the order kept the silenced apostates.
“Tell me of the apostates,” she said. “Did you take their enchantress alive? Whom aided you in stopping the Sopher?”
“Andraste, Mog Rioth, and Amergin accompanied me. They were the only members of the Hidden Circle in Druid’s Oath. It would have taken too long to open a doorway to Formene and retrieve the Dagda and yourself. That and I did not think it necessary to call in the Fist to deal with six rogue Mal’akim.”
It was a clever guise. Newborn druids did not hold political office in the realms. They dealt with lesser threats. Though the Mal’akim were formidable warriors, they were no match for four druid knights. Including the Fist in the raid was unnecessary. It had been thousands of years since she had been involved in an apostate raid. Before the birth of her younger peers, the Fist dealt with rogue sorcerers. She recalled the days when peace did not reign. The centuries after the fall of Atum’s empire were wrought with conflict. Though they had removed the head of the snake, the Bane of the Fallen had yet to take full effect.
“There used to be thousands of them,” she said. “Apostates. Their broods were plentiful. They were clever then, not at all this diluted sort you hunt today. Dangerous even for those of us who bore the power of the Oath. I recall one adept who caught me unaware. I spent a year recovering from the effects of his poisoned tongue. I imagine your wounds have healed?”
She watched his response. Something about his story wasn’t adding up, he had withheld information from the rest of the chamber.
“How exactly did a keeper sunder the mighty ArchMagus?” she jabbed.
Amyrannii glared at her and scratched where he had been wounded. “Madan was manifold in his disregard for the law, and his offspring is no different. She was never meant to be a keeper, nor a watcher. His deceit knew no bounds, even his daughter could find no refuge from his lies. I checked his records in the Acropolis after the attack on the tribe in the Greatwood. He falsified the record of her birth, she was to be a guardian, but Madan did not want to attract attention to his daughter. My assessment is the clever bastard had detected the omens of the dorcha.”
“That way is only known to our Order Amyrannii, how could the Mal’akim learn of such things?”
“As you know the chamber granted me power to expand extermination efforts after the Fir Bolg. Madan and I had worked together, finding apostates. Many were captured because of our efforts. I allowed him access limited access to the Nemos, by way of an enchanted stone. He used it to quicken our hunts. I made sure he was never wise enough to grasp what I gave him. Though I knew his obsession with finding the lost tribe had proved him to be a deceitful little wretch, I continued to allow him to use the stone. The collaboration bore fruit. More apostates were taken in this last century than had been taken in the past ten centuries.”
She looked at him with disdain. “Not wise enough? If you assume he could gather enough information to detect omens we did not, I would say your assessment was incomplete. This reckless use of power sent Falbanach into the dreaming. When I agreed to back your expansion of the apostate hunts against the will of Dagda and Emrys, I did not agree to allowing the blighting feather wings access to a relic stone. What stone did he have?” She paused and waited for his response. When none came her eyes glowed a deep reddish orange. “I advise you tell me now, or I promise you the dreaming pales compared to what tortures I will devise for you.”
Amyrannii recoiled. “It was the stone of fal!”
“You fool!” she gripped him by the throat. “Who else knows of this?”
“None, save Madan,” Amyrannii choked.
Inside she raged. This was as much her mistake as it was his. She had supported his efforts to root out apostates, despite the reservations of Dagda, Emrys, and Pythia. Now as a direct result she was tied to the insurrection that had transpired. It was a sticky situation. Though apostates were a threat to the balance, the careful political ballet demanded discretion. Apostates were to be taken into custody and stripped of their connection to magic and placed in stasis. Beneath druids oath were thousands of the abominations, some older than Amyrannii himself. Their bodies were but a husk as their souls had been banished to the void of Annwn. It was here in in the dungeons that the Bards and Ovydds examined the apostates to determine how they had presented an immunity to the curse. If an apostate could not be taken alive, it was left to the Nemeton to make reparations to mankind. Morrighan had hated the law that their Mother had instilled. Men were a blight and should be destroyed when they break the law, not coddled as children. In her lust for blood she had sought an end to the apostate problem, and she had allied with Amyrannii in bringing them to justice. It had backfired. With the murder of so many apostates the reparations to mankind would have to be severe, in effect granting them more power than they deserved. Such was the effect of the balance.
“Where is the stone now?” she asked him.
She could tell in his eyes he had not yet recovered it. “Was it not in the reliquary?”
“Madan has hidden it somewhere within the Acropolis.”
He nodded and she let go of his throat allowing his feet to touch the floor once more. “I thought the stone benign. Its connection to the shadow was weakened, so I placed a spell containing what little remained. Madan was only allowed access to the stone in my presence. Somehow he discovered that the Goddess would choose his offspring to take part in the Conclave. He wanted to exclude her, I suppose his attack on the sanctuary was his way of freeing her from service.”
Nemeton: The Trial of Calas (Hallowed Veil Book 1) Page 26
