We sense… doubt… The words reverberated through De Lisle’s psyche, causing him to tremble visibly, eyes screwed tightly shut and fingers clawing desperately at the arms of his communion chair. There have been times in the past when you have questioned… felt uncertain… but never doubt. Have we failed you in some way, cardinal, that you should lose faith in our power?
“No – never…!” He gasped, almost fighting for breath as their power washed over him, coursed through him, and he felt his chest constricting in dull discomfort. “It is not doubt I feel… merely concern that I cannot see the whole of the problem that lays before us… that there are too many factors in play over which I have no direct control…”
But we have control…we see everything. We see the dangers… your fears… We see every outcome and the probability of each becoming reality in its turn… You have always trusted us before…
“This… girl…” He continued, struggling to overcome his own fear as be finally broached the subject most at the forefront of his consciousness. “You’ve had me release her and give her access to another crystal, which I’ve done… now, she requests – demands – something larger… something more powerful…”
And this concerns you…?
“Greatly,” De Lisle confided immediately, almost sounding relieved over the even tone of the reply. “She’s young and extremely unpredictable… impulsive… and you know that she’s failed us in the past…”
…yet her connection with the prescient will be of great use to us. We foresee her as being vital in tracking down and eradicating this Dragonchild.
“‘Dragonchild’…?” The cardinal croaked, not at all happy with that piece of news.
“It is a name she has been given… a name of her ancestors. We foresee the possibility that she will invoke it in the name of Nethug… that she will draw upon the power of The Bicephalus itself to guide her… to make her stronger. The Koutroulis-child can help us in a way no other can.
“You – you think she should be given access to a larger Shard?” De Lisle asked, almost aghast at the thought.
She should be given anything she requires… it answered without hesitation, the force of the reply sending him reeling once more. Every day the Dragonchild remains free, the greater the danger to us grows.
“I will of course limit the spread of this as much as I am able, but the rest of the Brotherhood is bound to find out…” De Lisle observed darkly. “The brothers will not be happy to hear of this.”
That is of no consequence to us. We care only for results.
“I have seen some of what lies within her soul…” he persisted, not ready to accept the decision without at least stating his case. “She thinks herself he equal of men – of The Brotherhood… she craves power and desires to overthrow all men… all men…” he added, leaving unspoken the clear implication that he too was included in that statement.
And again you speak of matters that have no bearing on what must be. The future is still unclear – we have told you this – and we will make any sacrifice to secure our future.
“You would choose this girl over us… over me…?” De Lisle demanded, anger in his voice now for the first time. “When I have served you faithfully for an entire lifetime…?”
Quisitor Silas asked you the same thing on the day you cast him to Nethug, and what did you say to him then? It asked bluntly, the words so powerful now he feared me might pass out with the pain of it. …That a millennia of service would not be enough to excuse heresy. Powerful words, Cardinal, but worthless if unsupported by conviction. To use another phrase you employed in that same discussion, what part of this is our problem? Only our survival is paramount… anything else may be sacrificed to that end and you’d do well to keep that in mind. That you fear the Koutroulis-child – fear what she may become – is of no consequence to us. You will give her what she asks… whatever she asks… is that clear…?
“I – I…”
Is that clear…? The voice boomed thunderously in his mind, sending him rigid with agony.
“I understand… I understand…!” The cardinal moaned weakly, barely maintaining consciousness under that onslaught.
What you have – everything you have – is within your grasp only because we allow it… and it can be taken from you just as easily. Do not forget that, cardinal. Never forget that.
He felt the connection break like a crippling weight being lifted from his shoulders and chest and with that, De Lisle collapsed into the chair and blacked out, allowing himself the luxury of oblivion. He awoke some time later, groggy and unsure as to whether minutes or hours had passed. It took a while longer before he was able to gather the strength to lift himself to his feet, finally pushing out of his seat and shuffling around to the rear of the chair.
Near the top of its high back, a large panel was fixed in place with four flat-faced screws, their featureless heads making them impossible to remove with a normal screwdriver. Lifting his Holy Pendant in shaking hands, he took a steadying breath and closed his eyes as the crystal glowed faintly and – each in its turn – the four screws silently rotated themselves out of their holes to a distance of a centimetre or so. Another deep breath, and De Lisle was able to reach out and lightly tap the panel they’d held secure, causing it to fall away from the chair back and drop into his hands.
The Shard crystal held within was huge – at least ten times larger than any found in a Holy Pendant – and it glowed and rippled with a myriad of blue-green hues as he reached in and lifted from its padded socket. The chill of its power washed over and through him, setting his teeth on edge and causing every single exposed hair on his body to stand on end. Still weak and shaking heavily now, he awkwardly slipped the object into one of the large hip pockets sewn into the sides of his ceremonial robes.
“You've got my crystal!” Percy chirped brightly as De Lisle entered through the open doorway of the old princess’ quarters, almost leaping from the bed in excitement. “I knew you’d be able to manage it!”
“This is the largest I have access to…” De Lisle snapped, fixing her with a fiery glare “…and I’ll remind you that these things are one with the Shard Gods themselves. It is not… your crystal!” He added testily, feeling that fine but important point needed to be made, regardless of how completely it appeared he’d been cut out of the whole process.
“Yes, yes, yes…” She muttered dismissively, barely hearing him at all as she took her sword from where it had lay on the bed beside her and giving it a few experimental swishes as she closed on him. “I know Moloch told you to hand it over… so hand it over…!”
“You may have the Gods’ attention right now,” he hissed darkly in return, “but I could still make things very difficult for you, and I’d caution you to remember that!”
“Your Grace, believe it or not, I’m actually quite grateful for what you’ve done to help me out this last week…” Percy admitted, making an exceptional effort to sound as sincere as she actually felt. “Although you didn’t actually do anything to stop Silas hurting me…” she continued, fingers straying absent-mindedly to the scars on her cheek for a moment “…you weren’t giving the orders on that either, so I can’t really blame you for it. You know what I want out of this, and that pretty much matches up with what you want. Regardless of how the Shard Gods treat you, I appreciate the effort you’re putting in and we both want the same thing. Let me work with you and for you to help… yeah…?”
His steely gaze washed over her in that moment, every ounce of his pent-up indignance and humiliation daring the girl to make one false move or give one misspoken word that might justify him unleashing his wrath. Instead – possibly for the first time since they’d met, so long ago now – he found only honest sincerity in her eyes and her tone, and the background chatter he was filtering through his own Holy Pendant suggested it unlikely she was hiding anything or holding back.
“I…” he began haltingly, extremely reluctant to allow his own anger to recede “…I c
an only warn you that this thing carries immense power. You may think you know how to handle it…” he went on, shaking again now slightly in fearful anticipation as he slipped his hand into his robe pocket to retrieve the thing “…but you cannot imagine the reality of it. Allow it access to your mind only sparingly and in small doses or it will surely destroy you.”
“I understand…” she acknowledged diplomatically, bowing her head slightly and trying to hide her own excitement. “Perhaps we could access it together…?”
“I thank you, but no…” De Lisle replied immediately, shuddering at the thought. “I wish you no harm, however nor do I wish myself any either. I’ve experienced its power before – once, in my relative youth – and I’d not go through that again for any price. I wish you luck but I’ll not follow you into oblivion, should anything go wrong…”
“Fair enough,” Percy conceded with a shrug, unable to fault his forthright honesty. “Righto then…” she added, extending her empty hand with palm open and ready “…let’s find that witch for you…”
As quickly and carefully as he was able without dropping the thing, the cardinal hoisted it out of his robe pocket and dumped it into her waiting fingers, snatching his own away again as quickly as he was able. He instinctively backed away a metre or two as Percy’s body suddenly turned rigid, sword held pointing straight down at the floor in one hand as the other remained clamped about the huge Shard crystal.
It was already glowing again, rainbow colours coursing through and around it, sending tiny crackles of multi-coloured lightning rippling up her arm where it lay bare at the elbow. Her back arched, and although it was difficult to tell through the growing brilliance of the crystal she held, De Lisle almost imagined he could see her float a centimetre or two above the stone floor. At the same time, De Lisle heard the soft sound of a faint ‘thud’ at the back of his mind as if some huge weight had fallen to the ground at a great distance. From experience however, he knew that whatever he was ‘hearing’ would be deafening for Percy and he remembered the almost crippling chill he’d also suffered through many years before as she gasped in shock and pain and a cloud of exhaled breath burst from her lips within that otherwise warm room.
“ Dén to pistévo…!” she breathed softly in Greek, unconsciously uttering an exclamation her father was fond of as she struggled to cope with the sudden, brutal drop in her core body temperature. “That was a rush…!”
Percy’s eyes fluttered for another moment or two, almost rolling upward inside her head before the tension throughout her body finally subsided and she was finally able to sag forward, taking a few steadying steps and releasing a long sigh of relief. She stood silent for a moment, turning away from the cardinal with shoulders heaving in time with her laboured breathing. Multi-coloured crackles of lightning still rippled faintly up her arm, occasionally arcing across to the smaller crystal embedded in the hilt of the sword in her other hand, causing it to glow brightly also.
“You’re all right, sister…?” De Lisle ventured cautiously, not sure what to expect and taking care to remain at a distance.
She turned to face him then, and the only thing more unsettling than the faint sparkle of blue flickering within her normally-dark eyes was the fact that the scars on her cheek were literally healing as she spoke, folding in upon themselves and disappearing into nothingness as a similarly-coloured glow momentarily spread across that entire side of her face, so bright it was possible to see the criss-crossed patterns of veins beneath her skin. The glow faded again within a few seconds, leaving her face as clear and unblemished as the day she’d been born.
“Oh, I’m way more than just all right…” Percy wheezed hoarsely, sounding excited and out of breath. “I’ve never felt anything like it…! You want to know where she’s going…? Let me take care of that for you!”
Closing her eyes again, she lifted the sword and brought it close into her body, the blade pointing directly upward with the flat of it almost touching her nose. Percy’s other hand brought the large crystal in beneath the hilt until she was able to rest the sword upon it, creating a flash and flicker of activity within the object itself. Closing her eyes, she began to concentrate deeply as the brightness of both crystals began to grow in intensity, tiny bolts of static electricity arcing out into the room and crackling their way across the floor and up along the edges of nearby furnishings. With all the good sense and wisdom that came with his years of experience, De Lisle took several more steps backward until he was within easy reach of the open doorway, should he have need of a quick escape.
“Far away now and going further…” Percy murmured softly, eyes still tightly shut as wayward strands of her long, dark hair began to lift and float away from her body under the assault of that massive static discharge. “Hundreds of miles… island somewhere… west…!” She opened her eyes then and fixed De Lisle with an intense gaze. “Map…! Get me a map and I can show you where it is exactly. We have ships near… warships… I could see them…”
“Guards…!” The cardinal roared, not hesitating for a moment as he called loudly into the hallway beyond that open door. “Guards here to me… now…!”
XXII
Moving Forward
Godfrey Westacre was feeling particularly ill at ease, and he was willing to bet that not all of it was as a result of the terrible weather the ship had just sailed through during the bulk of that afternoon. An attempt at sleep following the storm’s departure had resulted in several hours of restless tossing and turning interspersed with short periods of fitful sleep, most of which were peppered with dark and unsettling dreams, most of them revolving around Lester’s death. As sunset approached, he’d abandoned any hope of rest and instead had wandered out onto the main deck in an exceptionally poor mood, hoping to alleviate his foul humour with some good, honest hard work to occupy his mind.
He quickly discovered that there was little to do however. Most of the crew seemed to have everything in hand already, and the few times he’d attempted to help out had only resulted in him being more of a hindrance than of any real use to anyone. He’d been left at a loose end as a result and eventually found himself mooching around aft, below the quarterdeck, all the while filled with a deep and quite uncharacteristic sense of restlessness as he prowled about near the door to the captain’s cabin. He felt vaguely angry and unsettled, and with his dark dreams having long-since faded away into the depths of his sub-conscious, the fact that he now couldn’t pin down a specific reason for his ill mood only seemed to make him even more annoyed.
Had he thought about it, Godfrey would likely have considered himself to be a reasonably perceptive person. He was also self-aware enough to know that the confusion and discord currently flowing through him was not at all representative of his usually upbeat and easy-going demeanour, although it was also true that the possibility of having been deeply affected by Lester’s death unfortunately never formed in his conscious mind. That he couldn’t figure out why was becoming a real source of frustration and all the while, as he paced that deck, his eyes would come to rest on the closed door to the captain’s quarters and his anxiety levels would spike again, making him even more irritable. The pair of armed guards standing on either side of the door frame eyed him with a disinterested mixture of suspicion and disdain.
“Orders of Master Randwick are that no one be allowed to see the queen other than at her specific request, but if you’re concerned for the queen’s safety, you needn’t be…” Farouk suggested, hanging over the quarterdeck railing directly above. He’d noted the young man’s aimless loitering and had rather astutely deduced that Godfrey’s interest in the entrance to his quarters to be for one of two likely reasons. “Bronson and Hark are the best fighters I have and they’d not let anyone past those doors uninvited…”
“Sorry, captain… the thought never crossed me mind…” Godfrey replied hurriedly, almost flinching in surprise at a voice that had come from an unexpected direction.
“Of course… if it is n
ot the queen whose welfare concerns you, then I can assure you that Mistress Anderson is equally well protected…” He gave a toothy grin as the younger man turned his face away momentarily, hiding an expression that was equal-parts wry smile and mildly-embarrassed grimace. “From what Master Randwick tells me, perhaps I should have Miss Anderson protecting my guards instead: I’m told she’s a fine swordsman – better than most men¸ if Randwick speaks truthfully.”
“He does, and she is…” Godfrey nodded in agreement, deciding his time might be better spent in conversation than brooding alone. Turning to his left, he mounted the wooden later fixed there that led up to Farouk’s level. “She charged an enemy cavalry unit at Stewpot Road on the day of the invasion and singlehandedly took down a dozen or more of those black-shirted bastards… and she was skilled enough to defeat Garrick one-on-one. Had I not been there, I’d not have believed it myself.”
“Edward Garrick’s skill with a blade was well known,” Farouk conceded, impressed. “Randwick also tells me the two of you have fought together for some time now… and that you escaped the Blacklands together in the days before Harald attacked…”
“Only known each other a week…” the young man admitted, breathing heavier after the climb “…but it sure feels like a lifetime.”
“You and I both know how quickly battle changes things, Master Westacre, and how quickly the bonds of friendship can be formed in the thick of it…”
“It sounds like the old man had a lot to say…” Godfrey asked, eyes narrowing slightly with mild suspicion. “What else did the old man tell you…?”
“Nothing but praise, both for you and Mistress Anderson,” Farouk replied without hesitation, giving a toothy smile. “He passed no secrets that weren’t his to tell, if that’s what concerns you,” he continued, assurance in his tone now, “but us ‘old men’ have seen enough of life to make the occasional ‘observation’. Sometimes, we can see things that young men cannot in spite of our infirmities and our failing senses…”
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