The Dark Thorn

by Shawn Speakman

  “The calm before the storm,” Richard murmured. “Testing me.”

  “Huh?” Sal asked.

  “Lulling us into false security.”

  “Smokin’ something, more the like, Rick,” Sal grunted.

  “It is our role to keep this world safe, Sal,” Richard growled, suddenly angry. “It requires looking at all possibilities. Or perhaps you aren’t capable of doing that, eh?”

  “Look,” the Chicago knight snapped. “If you had stopped the cu sith from coming through in the first place, none of this would be happening!”

  “Sal!” Danica shouted.

  “No. He’s right,” Richard said. “I am the weak link among us, no matter if I like it or agree with it.”

  “That’s right,” Sal rumbled.

  The other knights glared at Sal. He stared back unperturbed.

  “If the Lord of Annwn moves against one of the portals, it makes sense for it to be against the weakest link,” James said. “No offense, Richard.”

  “Not only that,” Arnaud added. “But how does this boy figure in?”

  “He was attacked. That much is clear,” James said. “The question is who in Annwn wants him dead? Wants Richard possibly dead? And why?”

  “Without the Heliwr, finding answers is difficult,” Danica noted.

  “Only one of us may know more,” Alistair said, glancing at Ennio Rossi, the youngest of the knights.

  “Well, pup? Got anything to add?” Sal asked.

  “You’ve been quiet, Ennio,” Danica prodded.

  Tall and handsome, Ennio shrank inwardly like a mouse confronted by cats.

  “I know you have friends in the Vatican, Ennio,” Richard assured. “And I am sure even a few are good people. But Church leaders are like all in established hierarchies—they look for advantage and use it to gain more power. At our expense. You will not be betraying anyone by sharing what you know.”

  “The Church has taken a keen interest in what happened,” Ennio said finally. The other knights nodded encouragement. “I know the Vigilo is aware of what took place in Seattle. The Cardinal Seer said as much when he warned me to watch the gateway with extra attention.”

  “The Cardinal Seer,” Sal said. “If he knows, then the Cardinal Vicar knows…possibly even the Pope. O’Connor and the Seer are as thick as thieves.”

  “The Vicar is a fair man,” Ennio blurted.

  “No, Ennio,” Alastair said. “The Cardinal Vicar sees the position of Pontiff near his grasp and seeks any advantage to gain it. If he knows more about what is going on, he’s going to play the cards the best way to ensure he benefits from it. Have no doubt about that. It is important for us to know what he knows to better gauge our response.”

  Ennio was quiet, unmoved.

  “Come on!” Sal insisted “We don’t have all day.”

  “The Cardinal Vicar knows,” Ennio said simply.

  “Go on,” Richard pressed.

  “Cardinal O’Conner entered the catacombs early yesterday morning,” Ennio added. “He spoke with the Cardinal Seer.”

  “That is interesting,” James murmured. “A man who oversees the entire diocese of Rome with very little time making the time to walk amidst the dank caverns and bone-ridden catacombs of antiquity. Must have been quite a reason for him to do that.”

  “He rarely visits the portal or the Seer,” Ennio conceded.

  “He needed the Seer’s guidance,” Arnaud offered.

  “Well?” Sal growled at Ennio.

  “The Seer was greatly tired when I visited,” Ennio replied, clearly annoyed by the burly Chicago knight. “Donato napped for some time, but when he awoke he shared what transpired. The Vicar made him use the mirror.”

  “He wanted to spy on something specific in Annwn then,” Richard said.

  “They looked at Caer Llion as well as the woods around it.”

  “The Vicar’s spooked,” Sal said. “Must think Philip is up to something.”

  “And since our portals haven’t been attacked, this must be tied to Richard and the boy,” Alastair pointed out. “I agree the attack from Annwn cannot be happenstance. The interest of the Vicar might not be either.”

  “The boy is the key to the puzzle,” James said.

  “He is,” Danica agreed.

  “The Church knows of him. Glenallen confessed as much,” Richard said. “Since they spied on me, it is probable the Vigilo knows Merle has a new apprentice. The boy is in danger. Simply because Merle can avoid capture by the Church doesn’t mean the boy can do it as well.”

  “Richard, do you know who this kid is?” Sal asked. “Why has Merle taken him in?”

  “You know Merle,” Richard said. “Could be anything.”

  “Could he be near to knighting a new Heliwr?” Danica questioned. “Or perhaps he has seen one of our deaths and found a replacement?”

  “It has been more than ten years since the Heliwr strode the world,” James said. “Could Merle be championing another, Richard?”

  “If he does act to fill the role of the Unfettered Knight, he does it without my counsel.”

  “You should ask him, Rick,” Alastair said.

  “You know him as well as I do,” Richard said. “He acts when it suits him.”

  “I can tell you one thing I’ve learned in all of my studies,” James said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “It would be to our benefit that the next Heliwr share our values and not be controlled by the Vatican. Decades ago one such Heliwr walked the world, and he enacted all sorts of mischief for the Church. Assassinations. Political pressure. Theft of important secret information from many countries. In our current political climate, a Heliwr controlled by the Church could destabilize the Middle East further. Imagine, an assassin removing Islamic leaders with the ease of magic. It would be another crusade. It would ultimately lead the world to all-out war, more than likely.”

  “One of us should send the Vicar to his crypt,” Sal muttered.

  “He will be exposed for his greed if he is indeed attempting to gain control of the Heliwr, Sal,” Arnaud said. “Instead, we need to focus on this boy.”

  “Bran is just a kid,” Richard answered. “Merle is unpredictable though. He might have found a new Heliwr.”

  “Undoubtedly the old codger has wheels within wheels turning,” Sal rumbled. “He always has.”

  “Ennio,” Richard said. “We know not what is going on here. Keep aware. St. Peter’s is the heart of Catholic tenure and although a Pope’s death would not be damaging to the world, perhaps those in Annwn have a plan that we simply cannot see yet.”

  The Rome knight nodded but said nothing.

  “If the rest of you come up with any other ideas or solutions, we’ll reconvene here,” Richard continued, hands in pockets. “Be strong. Thanks for coming.”

  The other knights began to fade from the sunshine.

  Richard sighed, the answers he had sought still beyond his reach. He breathed in the peace of the beautiful Annwn day, hoping it would settle the disquiet growing at his center.

  When he returned to Seattle, he felt no different.

  The night dark and dank about him, his dreams filled with the darkest creatures of the subconscious, Richard sensed movement of foreign air and erupted from troubled sleep to grab the wrist of his transgressor.

  “Let go of me, jerkoff!” a voice yelped.

  Richard did not hesitate. Thick blankets thrown off, he gained his feet like a cat and slammed his assailant against the building of the alley before realizing he recognized the voice.

  It was the boy.

  Bran pinned and of no threat, Richard swept the darkness. Moonlight glimmered like frost beyond the alley where he made his makeshift bed, but it failed to illuminate beyond a rough outline. No sound penetrated the gloom; it was the middle of the night and the city slumbered. Memories of the previous night still thick, Richard penetrated the shadows where danger could lurk, not taking anything for granted.

  It took only a moment. No othe
r entity existed in the alley.

  The boy was alone.

  Richard shook Bran. “What are you doing here?!” he seethed.

  Bran ignored the vehemence and stared back with cold eyes.

  “Merle…”

  “Merle what, whelp?”

  “Merle sent me to find you,” Bran said, pain at the edge of his words.

  His adrenaline flowing away, Richard let the boy go. Bran slid down the wall but quickly straightened, adjusting his coat and regaining his composure.

  “I told you not to go out at night,” Richard admonished. Bran just stared back with a mixture of awe and distrust. When the boy didn’t answer, Richard grabbed the front of his coat anew. “Why does Merle want to see me?”

  “I want to know what happened the other night.”

  “What does Merle want?” the knight repeated, ignoring the request.

  “Look, I’m not an idiot,” Bran said. “I’ve been around. Been taking care of myself a long time. Never have I seen creatures like we saw the other night. Never have I seen a man with a flaming sword running around a city like it was the damn medieval ages.”

  “You should go to a Renaissance fair then,” Richard said.

  “I’m serious. Who are you?”

  “You obviously didn’t heed my advice and leave Old World Tales.”

  “I talked to Merle, yes,” Bran admitted. “He convinced me to stay, although he didn’t share much. He is more full of shit than that crazy Tee Goodkind down by the wharf. You know, the guy who believes he isn’t homele—”

  “I warned you,” Richard interrupted angrily. “Get away from that old man as quickly as you can. You have no idea how he will twist your life. Now leave me to bed. I no longer care what he wishes of me—or you for that matter.”

  “Elizabeth,” Bran said simply.

  Richard hoped he’d heard wrong but knew he hadn’t.

  “What did you say?” he hissed.

  “He told me to just say the name Elizabeth,” Bran stammered. “Said…said you would come, if I said that name.”

  Anger flooded him. Richard tightened his grip on the coat and pushed him into the brick wall. It was all he could to do not beat sense into the boy.

  “What kind of games are you playing? Who the hell do you think you are?!” he raged.

  Unfamiliar fear crept into Bran’s eyes. Realizing what he did, Richard flung Bran aside and to the wet ground like a rag doll.

  “I know,” he said. “You are only the messenger. This is a discussion best had with its owner.”

  Before the boy could reply, Richard was already striding out of the alley. It took him less than a minute to cover the dead two blocks to Old World Tales. No one was about; no cars sped on the Viaduct above or on the streets of the Bricks. It was a silent world devoid of life. But when he turned the last corner, the lights of the bookstore blazed like fiery windows into hell.

  Richard did not deviate. He burst through the front door with burning conviction.

  The bookstore owner sat calmly in one of his plush chairs, legs crossed, his pipe smoking into the air above him. He eyed the knight with cool discernment. Over his shoulder, Arrow Jack sat perched and awake, the beady eyes of the merlin like a knife stabbing the knight.

  “I am going to ask you this one time,” Richard snarled, pointing a finger at the old man like a sword. “Why the hell did you send for me!?”

  “Annwn is on the rise,” Merle stated.

  The old man’s serene manner only fueled Richard’s anger. “What the fuck does that have to do with Elizabeth!?” he roared.

  “Everything. Or maybe nothing.”

  “Riddles,” he spat. He turned to leave and in his fury, almost bowled Bran over. The boy didn’t move.

  “Get out of my way,” Richard snapped venomously.

  “Bran, you have played chess, yes?” Merle questioned.

  “I used to play when I was a kid, yeah,” Bran said, looking uncertainly at the knight but still not getting out of his way. “My father taught me when I was about six.”

  “Explain to Richard what happens at the start of a game.”

  Richard had had enough. “Merle, don’t sit there an—”

  “Tell him, Bran,” Merle cut in.

  “Uhh, usually the pawns are moved forward.”

  “Precisely,” the bookseller said. “Why?”

  “They begin the game to allow other pieces into play.”

  “A player moves a pawn; his foe counters with a move of his own,” Merle said, eyeing Richard. “The same is true in Annwn and this world. Pawns are moving, pieces being pushed into place with victory as the goal. All I know is those pawns must be countered. No matter what you may think, Richard, I do not entirely see the forces that move to imbalance the world, only a suggestion of them in the air, on the earth, and at the edge of my awareness.” He paused. “That suggestion moved me to have Bran find you tonight and bring you here.”

  “You still have not answered my question,” the knight said.

  “I will get to it,” Merle said. “First, I must discover how much Bran has learned during his reading this past month.”

  “I knew it,” Richard scowled. “There is no reason to include him in this.”

  “There is,” the old man disagreed.

  “I am right here, ya know,” Bran said, although Richard detected a bit of fear in the boy’s voice. “I can make my own choices. And if this has anything to do with what happened the other night and I can learn just what the hell went down out there in the Bricks, I want to know.”

  “Very perceptive of you, Bran,” Merle said. “We certainly mean you no harm.”

  “If you believe that, boy, then you are not as bright as I thought you,” Richard said.

  “Hush, Richard,” Merle said, eyes flashing. “Now.”

  “I will not!” the knight raged.

  “Look, I don’t know who you think you are,” Bran said to Richard. “But I have a right to know why that enormous dog thing came after me.”

  “You are in no position to know what is best for you in this.”

  “I will be the judge of that.”

  “Fine,” Richard said, angry. “When it bites you in the ass, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “I meant what I said, Bran,” the bookseller asserted once more. “We mean you no harm. But you must hear what I have to say, now, before it is too late.”

  “Has this to do with the other night?” Bran asked.

  Merle nodded. “I asked you to read about pre-civilized Britain. Have you done so?”

  “I’ve read a bit. A lot since the other night, in fact.”

  “Then you know it was ruled by Celtic tribes before Rome added them to its Empire.”

  “Right,” Bran said. “Julius Caesar conquered lower England.”

  “This is a mistake, Merle,” Richard interrupted.

  “Richard!” Merle growled.

  The knight grew quiet. He hoped once Bran had heard what the old bookseller had to say, it would scare him sufficiently to ignore whatever request Merle had up his sleeve.

  Then he would find out why Merle had brought up Elizabeth.

  “Julius Caesar. Just so,” Merle resumed. “And what religion did he encounter there?”

  “The Celts were pagans, I think,” Bran answered. “Believed in many gods and goddesses. Kind of like Rome.”

  “Very true,” Merle said. “Christianity eventually grew in Rome and spread through the empire. When that happened, the religion the Celts practiced all but disappeared overnight.”

  “How does this tie in with what happened to me?”

  “What you experienced the other night was real,” Merle answered. “Celtic machinations with you at their heart. You were attacked by fey creatures this world has not known, at least in a real way, for millennia.”

  “That can’t be true,” Bran said. “It’s folklore.”

  “Indeed,” Richard said, not sure if he wanted to laugh at or chastise the bo
y. “Didn’t believe your own eyes, eh?”

  “All folklore has a basis of truth,” Merle said, looking at Bran with an earnestness the knight knew to be all too dangerous. “The gods and goddesses Julius Caesar encountered and fought existed—and still exist. He went there looking for riches and resources to expand the empire. In his first effort, he encountered far more than he bargained for. The Celts, with the fey Tuatha de Dannan, repelled the Roman general. The next summer he brought several battalions of his heartiest fighters, and that was the beginning of the end for the Celts and their religion.”

  “But you say their gods, these fey, still exist?” Bran questioned.

  “They disappeared,” Richard said.

  “Not exactly,” Merle corrected. “They retreated from Roman Christian advance over the next three centuries, withdrawing deeper and deeper into the wilds of what would become Wales, Ireland, and Scotland—and, when they had nowhere left to run, from this world entirely.”

  “This is all pretty hard to believe, guys,” Bran said shaking his head. “First I was attacked by a fey creature. And now you are telling me that there is a place outside this world where they exist still? Like, really exist? I’ve seen some crazy people on the streets, Merle, but right now you are officially the craziest, and you don’t even live there.”

  “Is what I tell you so hard to believe?” Merle asked. “What’s important is that you were attacked. That was real enough. It was also for a reason, one we must discover.”

  “How can you know it was for a reason?” Bran asked. “I’m no one.”

  “Someone does not believe that, Bran.”

  “Who?”

  “If you’ve done enough reading, you’ll know magic heavily influenced the ancients. This world has relegated magic to unreal blasphemy, a novelty for sleight-of-hand magicians and Hollywood. As Julius Caesar and those after him discovered, magic does exist, albeit lesser now with the turn of technology, and it existed when the Celts ruled the breadth of the Isles. Part of their power relied on artifacts imbued with abilities—weapons, mirrors, brushes…you get the idea. One of these, a mirror or something like it, with extraordinary power, is owned by someone or something in Annwn—and that entity wants you dead.”