“It’s gone. There is nothing there. There never was anything there except the trees and the track.” Godwin shook his head and looked around him. The trembling reduced but was still obvious and the face that turned to me was still frightened.
“What…? How…?” he asked.
“An illusion. Nothing but an illusion. He sent a mind spell but it’s gone now.” The great bear sat down heavily on a nearby rock, his sword leaning loosely against his knee while he rubbed his good hand through his thick blonde hair.
“How can we fight that? How can we fight what isn’t there?”
“There is no ‘we’ about it, Godwin. Remember our agreement. The first time you came across something that really frightened you, you were to turn back. You are frightened now. Go back and leave this to me.” The great-hearted man stood and shook himself from head to toe. Then he shook his head again, closed his eyes and opened them wide, then rubbed them with his finger and thumb before speaking.
“I’m fine. I’ll be fine now. It just took me by surprise. I’ll be fine. I promise you.” I restrained him from going on. I was filled with affection, sympathy and deep respect for this man, who had been terrified by something he had never encountered before but was still prepared to face it again.
“No, Godwin,” I said, “you must leave it to me. That was nothing. A trumpet-blast; nothing more than a range finder. It’ll get worse. Much worse. If I allowed you to come with me you would be a slobbering fool before we had gone a hundred paces. You remember the outlaws yesterday? The one I had disabled but you killed?” Godwin nodded slowly and miserably. “What I did to him was nothing compared to what will happen to you if you go on. I wasn’t trying to hurt, just disable. Ieuan will try to destroy me. He will drive you to incurable madness as a by-blow. He will barely even give you a thought but the rest of your life will be filled with torment such as you can’t imagine. Please, my friend, go back to the horses and wait for me. This shouldn’t take too long. Please.” The big man stood, looked down at me, with my inadequate build and shaved head. He shook his head and turned and walked slowly back off down the path. “Horses for courses, Godwin,” I called out, “just the right mount for the job.” Godwin sheathed his sword and raised his hand in miserable acknowledgement. He had never been so frightened; he would remember it for the rest of his life.
I stood and watched for a few moments to make absolutely sure that he’d left, then turned and walked towards the creature who had once been my friend, determination steeling my heart and my mind. I’d gone no more than twenty yards when a wall of fire leaped up across the path. It raced around and had encircled me in the time between one thought and the next. It radiated fierce and hungry heat and it started to close in from all sides at once. It was going to roast me, I could feel it start to singe my hair. I closed my eyes and walked straight on into the cooling late afternoon air.
I’m sure you have more than that. I am alone now. I am coming for you. You will not stop me.
I walked on, then contacted Ieuan again. I couldn’t believe it was you. I thought it was one of Lucius’ followers. You became a disciple of his?
Lucius. He’s been dead twenty years.
He taught you though, didn’t he? And he taught you well.
He taught me nothing.
He showed you. He led you to the door. And you knew what he had done. What he was doing. And you followed him.
No. It was what you did. You are cruel, and savage.
What I did? When?
At the Ballaugh.
You weren’t there.
No. But I felt what you did. And I saw the aftermath. What you did. You were savage, merciless.
They were killing and enslaving –
Not Sean.
Who is Sean?
He was at Innisgarbh.
[a picture of a youth floated into my vision. The face was vaguely familiar but I couldn’t say I knew him]
What about him?
You destroyed him. Left him mad. He did no harm.
He was with Lucius. They all did harm. Massive harm.
Not Sean.
All of them. I don’t regret what I did.
You destroyed him. My beautiful Sean. I arrived there two weeks after you had wreaked your savagery. I found him. Drooling, empty – an idiot. Everything I loved about him, destroyed by you. Our whole circle of friends, brutalised and killed by you. I swore then I would find you and return the favour.
There was no arguing with this. What I had done at the Ballaugh was destroy what I thought would be the most evil thing I ever encountered. A coven of Druids who had turned to ultimate evil and were enslaving the local populace. They had revived human sacrifice – for what reason? Power, of course. And sex, in many cases. Not ordinary sex, either; the humiliation that had been visited on those unfortunate enough to fall under their influence was beyond all depravity I had previously witnessed. And I had seen some dreadful sights on my travels.
If you think I should not have destroyed that coven, you had already lost all sense of morality. They were monstrous. Bestial.
[silence from Ieuan]
So what did you do? Spend years locked away, allowing this bitterness to feed on itself and corrupt you? When did you finally turn to Cromm Cruaich?
[silence]
Let me guess. It was before the Winwaed – a few years before. You learned quickly, for one without the Sight.
[there was hiss at this. I had hit a nerve – deliberately. So he was listening.]
It was you at the Winwaed, wasn’t it?
A shivered acknowledgement
You must have thought yourself most favoured when I arrived.
A bitter chuckle echoed through the Dark and a reply came at last.
I was expecting you. One of my people had got Penda to send for you. I knew you were coming.
And the Apple of Discord? I asked.
What?
The Apple of Discord. Was that you?
What are you talking about?
Never mind. It was you, with the human sacrifices and the two disciples? How did you manage to join Oswy’s army?
A smug chuckle filtered through.
We joined as wandering Irish friars who had been moved to minister to men’s souls on the battlefield. We knew enough to pass as Irish monks.
But Oswy is Christian. Why work for a Christian triumph?
There was no reply. I suspected, now, that his plans had not worked out. If Mercia and Northumbria had entered pitched battle at the Winwaed it was possible they would have crippled each other. With their power broken, the way would have been open for a resurgent Strathclyde to dominate all of Britain. Ieuan’s hatred of the English was palpable; it was a physical thing, part of his very being. He had already installed himself in Strathclyde. Without any opposition from Northumbria or Mercia, he could have achieved his aim of driving his enemies back into the sea whence their forefathers had come.
The children. All those children.
He had got better at human sacrifice, if that was the right word. At the Winwaed, he’d had to kill someone every few moments. Now, he could go days – maybe even weeks? – on the blood of just one child. And that child in Dumbarton, the sick one I had called him to…
I didn’t know whether to explode with rage or to collapse in tears. The little body the woman had been holding, outside her hut, it wasn’t a child, I was certain. It was a doll. It was a doll. Her child…
I walked on another half mile and heard a rushing on the wind and an iron arrow was flying out of the trees straight at my heart but my shield was enough: the arrow clanged onto its great iron boss and dropped to the floor where it dissolved with a hiss of steam and a wisp of evil-smelling smoke.
Still maintaining a steady pace I turned a corner to find four horsemen waiting in line. The first on a white horse, with a great sword with which he would conquer, for none could stand against him, his brow was mighty and stern and his eyes were dark and pitiless; the second was red and
him that sat on it brought anger and strife to the world, and was ready to raise nation against nation and cast them all down, his cloak was hooded and his eyes burned like coals; the third carried a bag in which was blight, and mould, and fungus, and rot for all the food in the world, and soil that would grow nothing and would infect the earth, and the name of the soil was wormwood and his head was emaciated, with pits of darkness in his eyes; and the fourth was on a pale horse, hooded and his head was nothing but a mesh of veins and on his brow was his name which was Death and Hell and all the beasts of hell followed him, dogs slavering at the mouth and with sharpened teeth that were eager to rip living flesh and devour it. They turned their heads towards me and they knew my name and I was afraid. The horses moved together in a line and came toward me.
I closed my eyes and waved my hand to dispel the illusion and I opened them and they were still marching towards me, line abreast and the dogs of hell had foetid breath which I could smell as they hungered for me and my legs turned to water under me and I nearly fainted away with fear.
I closed my eyes and said ‘Lord, aid me in my hour of need. St Michael, stand before me with your sword and shield for my need is great.’ I opened my eyes and I knew what to say.
‘Get back,’ my voice boomed, ‘return to your appointed place for your time is not yet come! In the Most Holy Name of Our Lord Jesus Christ I command you to return until the time appointed by God, the One True God who is the Lord and Master of all!’ And the horsemen and their hellpack vanished, leaving only the smell of sulphur and rotting flesh, which was blown away on the breeze.
I fell to my knees, gasping with fear and thanking God for my deliverance. After a couple of moments I stood again and resumed my march forwards.
I was entombed in rock that had leaped up around me with a silent clang. It closed in and held me tight in every direction. I couldn’t move so much as a finger and it slithered its way in through my nose, my mouth, my ears, my eyes and I was suffocating. My chest tried to heave for breath but the rock that was my tomb would not allow it and my flesh turned cold as I was absorbed, becoming the rock itself. I tried to close my eyes but my eyelids were made of rock and they would not move, save perhaps an inch in a century. But I could see nothing anyway and my mind could close its eyes while I concentrated, ignoring my body’s despair and quest for breath and I remembered the track and the trees and the watery light that was filtered through it, fading and turning red as the sun went down and I could breathe again and all was as I had remembered.
It was time to fight back.
I located my adversary and crashed a mountain of rock on top of him. It came pouring down, endless and limitless as the sky. All the rock in the world fell on this one point and when that was used up the moon fell from the sky and shattered, pouring on top of the enemy, the Druid who had betrayed his trust, then the stars fell on the place where the traitor lay, being crushed under the weight of a thousand worlds and then I was walking forward again. Ieuan had repulsed the attack. I carried on a few steps and launched again.
Walls of water poured down from the hills and swept through the forest, snapping trees like twigs, uprooting great oaks and tossing them like kindling. The old and wrecked body of the Druid could not withstand such force and was picked up and cartwheeled through the flood, spinning around and around and making thought impossible, he could not break out for the sea came rushing up the valley to smash into the mountain waters, the Druid being a forgotten, insignificant twig of no consequence, caught between the two titanic forces as they contended for mastery but I was walking through the trees again.
I rounded another twist in the path and drew my sword. Coivin lay before me, dying from his wounds and drowning in his own blood. I moved to help him, to make amends,
‘Coivin! No! Coivin! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean…’ I stopped short, closed my eyes, shook my head and looked again.
Ieuan was struggling to his feet, breathing heavily, just forty feet away. His horse was tethered to a tree nearby. It had suffered no direct attack but it been caught in the backwash and was whinnying in terror.
“Ieuan,” I said, “let the poor creature go. This is between you and me alone and must be sorted with swords, I think, for neither of us can overcome the other.”
“Pity,” said Ieuan, who was upright again, “pity and compassion for everything. You weakling! You cannot stand against me! I will best you when the sun goes down and my Master’s strength waxes! You will lose, Ciaran!”
“I am Anselm, traitor, and I won’t wait that long. Your Master was beaten by God before time began. It’s over, Ieuan,” I continued in a more controlled tone, “surrender now and beg forgiveness for what you’ve done. There can still be mercy.”
“What have I to look forward to but death? No-one will understand. They will torture me and hang me. Why should I give myself up?”
“Ieuan, you know you must pay for the crimes you have committed. Murder, Ieuan, and of children! Hundreds of them! Or is it thousands? If you don’t pay now and seek forgiveness then, if you’re lucky, you will have to pay through a hundred lifetimes. Seek forgiveness. Repent now.”
“And your all-merciful God will forgive me? Let me go live?”
“I fear you will go to hell without any chance of redemption in future lives if you don’t repent.” Ieuan looked suddenly fearful.
“But…” he said, “we all go to the Orchard, we all have the chance to try again.”
“Some crimes are too monstrous. Especially if there is no remorse. You may be thrown out of the Circle of Life forever for what you’ve done.”
“No,” Ieuan shook his wasted head, “what I did I did for the best. I wanted to save our people. Our people, Ciaran!”
“No,” I shook my head in his turn. “No you didn’t. You did it for yourself. You allowed yourself to become a tool of the Enemy and to carry out devil’s work. You never saved anyone or anything. You killed children to feed a demon’s foul appetite and have fatally weakened a kingdom. You have done the Enemy’s work for him and he laughs at your despair!
Repentance,” I continued more softly, “repentance is the only way. You were kind and gentle once, Ieuan, you were my friend.”
“We can be friends still!”
“Not unless you turn away from this path. Remember how you gave up your desire for me and became my protector instead. That Ieuan, I loved. This traitor to the living, I cannot have as friend. I hate him and what he has done. But the old Ieuan, the one you were, the Healer - you are the Healer still, you saved Cedd – that Ieuan, the one who had that great Gift, that one I love and he is the one who God will save. Even this late, turn away from evil and repent.”
“It’s too late.”
“It’s not too late! You saved Cedd, you used your Gift for good. There is still goodness in you Ieuan! For your own sake, turn to the good!”
The atmosphere between us was so charged it almost crackled. Ieuan was silent and I could sense that he was wrestling within himself again. The good, the last, tiny piece of goodness left in him, was trying to emerge again after so long imprisoned within the fallen soul. I prayed for him to repent, even now, so late, and give himself the chance to make restitution, no matter how many cycles of lives it took. I had loved the man and I didn’t want to think of him condemned for eternity, not even after the monstrous crimes he had committed.
“I let the boy go, didn’t I?”
“Yes, you did.”
“I could have kept him and sacrificed him, but I let him go, didn’t I?”
“Yes.” I prayed fervently for my friend’s soul, but I kept my sword ready in my hand.
“I could have just killed him, but I didn’t want to.” A movement caught my eye. “But it’s too late. I’m lost Ciaran, I -” whatever else he intended to say, I never heard because a huge boar came crashing through the undergrowth to my right. It was charging straight for me. It’s shoulders were almost as high as my own, its discoloured tusks curled out and back, supe
rbly developed for ripping flesh from bones, and its tiny eyes were filled with murderous intent. I dropped my sword and leaped up into a tree, catching the lowest thick branch and swinging myself out of the way just in time. The momentum of the boar’s charge carried it into the trunk of the tree and the impact nearly dislodged my hold.
I heard Ieuan laugh.
“Oh, wonderful, Ciaran, wonderful! Decide it with swords, you said, and now this! I congratulate you! And such detail!” He laughed again.
The boar heard the Druid’s voice and turned towards the noise. I could see every stiff bristle on its back. I could touch it if I just reached down. The brute was enormous.
It was setting off on another, unstoppable, mad charge. Directly at Ieuan.
“Ieuan!” I called desperately. “It’s not an illusion! It’s real! Get out of the way! Save yourself!”
The Druid finally realised that I spoke the truth - but too late. He had only begun to turn, looking for escape, when the boar was on him. The impact threw him fully fifteen feet through the air and he came to ground in a heap of bones that were probably already broken. The boar followed him every inch of the way and attacked furiously. Its sabre-like tusks ripped into his stomach and disembowelled him in an instant.
I dropped down from the tree and collected my sword from where I had dropped it. I was downwind of the monster as I ran to where it was killing Ieuan. Raising the sword in both hands as I came, I took aim between the ribs and crashed it, point first, into the heart.
The beast fell sideways, dead before it hit the ground.
I turned to the Druid and knelt beside him. His stomach was a mess, coils of grey intestines spilling out from it on all sides. He was rent from the ribcage to his groin; a wound that even Ieuan himself, at the peak of his powers, couldn’t have healed. Blood still oozed feebly from the exposed flesh, pumped feebly by the ruined heart. The Druid was not yet dead and managed to turn his head and whisper.
The Monk (Prince Ciaran th Damned Book 3) Page 38