Contents
Half Title
Other Works
Title
Copyright
Dedication
Half Title
North Map of Belkin
South Map of Belkin
Prologue
Parry
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Thrust
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Epilogue
Coming Soon
World Details
About the Author
Stoc
Titles by Donald D. Allan
The New Druids Series
Duilleog, Volume One
Craobh, Volume Two
Stoc, Volume Three
Freamhaigh, Volume Four (coming 2018)
Leaf and Branch (The New Druids Vols 1 & 2)
DONALD D. ALLAN
Stoc
A New Druids Novel
Volume Three
STOC: A New Druids Novel
Donald D. Allan
Copyright © 2017 Published by Copper Penny Publishing.
Kindle Edition 2017
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means—by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorised editions.
All inquiries should be addressed to:
Copper Penny Publishing
E-Mail: [email protected]
Web page: donalddallan.com
National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data
ISBN-13: 978-0-9958490-2-0
Cover Design— Donald D. Allan
Cover Credits— Images and art purchased from http://www.123rf.com/profile_designwest, http://www.123rf.com/profile_1enchik, and http://www.123rf.com/profile_epantha. Use of the triskelion within this novel from http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Triskel_type_Amfreville.svg. The image is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported license and is attributed to the author Cétautomatix (artéfact), Ec.Domnowall. Title page art: Copyright: http://www.123rf.com/profile_olivier26 from http://www.123RF.com. Part Three Title page art: Copyright: http://www.123rf.com/profile_martm
Map Credit— Stephen Chase
For James and Katherine.
I'm always so proud of you.
Stoc
A New Druids Novel
Volume Three
Map of North Belkin: Munsten and Cala Counties
Map of South Belkin: Turgany County
Prologue
Somewhere in Cian-Oirthear, across the ocean east of Belkin, March 901 A.C.
HOT WINDS SWIRLED and gusted and brought sand up to whip past the face of the man standing unfazed by such common things. He was covered from shoulder to feet with a sand coloured thawb tied tight to his body with weathered leather straps. He wore a traditional keffiyeh around his face and shoulders and had it tied tight to his head with a dark brown agal. His light hazel eyes were obscured by tinted goggles and small movements of his head revealed he searched for something or someone atop the dune he stood. The dunes were dense and firm and he stood with relaxed ease.
Around him were miles and miles of endless desert. He knew a mere hundred miles to the west the land changed and grew lush with greenery before the vast western sea appeared. He shuddered at the thought. That much water was unnatural. The sand, palm trees, dried figs and the world on horseback were his domain. The sea was out there and one day he would need to face it. He would depart these lands he held with sweat, blood and determination. Leave it behind and seize the promised wealth of a new land.
He didn't need to look behind him to see his men hidden and spread out around the water hole. The horses hidden behind another dune were silent and ready to respond to his men. The soft whisper of sand brushing across the dunes and the hot breath of wind were the only sounds. It was peaceful in its way, but he hated this place. It brought back memories he fought to keep distant.
The sun reached its zenith, and he drew a slow breath. Now was the appointed time and soon his wait would be over. A small trickle of fear ran down his spine and he braced himself. Fear was good, but this fear always threatened to overwhelm him. He could never escape it and it never grew stale or a companion easily suffered.
Seconds crawled past and his fear quickly was replaced by worry. His master demanded punctuality and here he was—on time and his master late. Seconds quickly ran into minutes and he glanced about. This was not normal and his hand strayed unerringly to the pommel of the great curved blade that hung exposed from his waist.
He thought of ambush and deception and turned to look to his men. His second, dressed as he was, rose from the sand a hundred yards away and stared back at him expecting orders. Sand poured from him only to be swept away by the dry, hot winds. A sense of disquiet descended quickly. The heads of his men rose from the sand to look at one another and time seemed to slow and then stop. The wind died and the hairs on the back of his neck rose with an itch. He watched as his second raised a pointed hand toward him and he spun around, his hand starting to draw his sword.
"You really need to be more observant, Mushir," said the imposing figure who stood before him.
Mushir Adham bowed deeply. "Sahib." When he rose he looked closely at the man who had appeared so suddenly before him. His master was a master of magics. A djinn. He wore the garb of a djinn and beneath the silks his obsidian skin bore a terrible scar.
"Yes, I am damaged. A minor inconvenience," intoned the figure who called himself Kamal Sherwami.
"Sahib, how is this possible? You told me you were impervious to any damage. You are immortal. A djinn."
Kamal stood silent and Adham regretted his words. His master was far from forgiving and quick to anger. He took lives like the wind tore grains of sand from the dunes. The shock of seeing Kamal injured shook him and a kernel of doubt took seed. It proved his master capable of lies and lies always led to deception. Mushir Adham had risen to power in his lands by being careful of men who spread lies. Not for the first time, he considered striking down this creature. He thought of his great scimitar and imagined drawing it forth and taking the head off clean from the shoulders. It would be pointless, he knew. Kamal slew with a thought.
"Yes," whispered Kamal. The word filled his ears and head like two voices and Mushir shuddered. "Lies. Lies bind us all and make believers of those who would doubt. Try it, Mushir. Strike me down. See what that brings you and your men."
Adham released his thought of attacking. He knew his men would follow him down any path he chose and knew if he tried anything with this creature, they would be slaughtered like goats on the altar. He ground his teeth and nodded. "My apologies, sahib."
"Noted. Worry not. This mark is proof of my continued efforts to provide you with riches beyond your wildest imaginings. I am injured fighting and weakening those forces I would pit you against. The
y are now ripe for your conquest and rule. The capital is primed for your arrival. The land in disarray. You will head west and board the ships I have provided you. Do not delay. Split your forces as I have told you. The bulk will go south to Jergen. Hold the port. Seize the crossroads. Push south from the capital and crush all who stand in your way. Be ready."
"Yes, sahib" Mushir Adham bowed deeply as he spoke the words. "It shall be as you..." He rose to find Kamal gone. He looked to the sand and found no marks to indicate his master had ever been standing in front of him. He drew a calming breath and turned and gave a shrill whistle.
His men erupted from the sand and turned to leap to horseback as the horses ran clear of the dune. Sand billowed and spread in a massive cloud only to be scattered by the winds. The men quickly formed up and his second led them with Mushir's horse following obediently beside him. As his horse approached, he leapt to the saddle and rode beside y-Mushir Hassim.
"That was interesting," said Adham quietly for Hassim's ears only.
Hassim grunted in reply before speaking. "It always is, Mushir."
"He was wounded."
Adham saw Hassim snap his head toward him. "Injured?"
"Yes, it looked like a burn mark on his chest. Scarred over but recent. It was not there a week ago."
"What does this mean?"
"I'm uncertain. It does not bode well. All the promises of swift victory and sweet rewards across the sea seems to be built on a dune of lies. It is unravelling, my friend. We must be cautious."
"It shall be as you say, Mushir."
"Orders remain unchanged except I want to increase our force to the north. It is a land of apostates. We must strike hard and hold the capital. I will lead this group."
"Mushir?"
"You will lead the southern group. Switch out the men, stay with those you trust. The fight will be hard but you are capable. I will hold the north and swing south when I can. You must be ready to be entrenched in Jergen. Double the re-supply runs."
Hassim nodded.
Lord Protector Healy rose from his breakfast table and tossed his napkin onto his plate. He looked out the window of his stateroom to the city of Munsten below. Smoke from chimneys rose straight up into the still air and the crisp look of autumn with trees bursting with colour was everywhere. He loved this time of year. Autumn was the decay of the old life and readied the world for the new.
Appropriate, he thought. I usher in a new era for Belkin. A new rule.
A soft knock sounded at his door.
"Enter."
The door opened, and a courier stepped in and came over and held out a dispatch. Healy accepted it and the courier stepped away and left, closing the door quietly behind him. Healy turned the dispatch over and saw the wax seal of Jergen. His lips tightened into a straight line and he cracked the seal and opened the letter. As he suspected, it was from Major Gillespie.
The plan failed. Cargo lost. Target escaped. Waiting in Jergen for further orders.
That was it? Nothing else? Healy crumpled the paper in quick anger and tossed it to the breakfast table. Unacceptable!
"Captain!" he yelled out to the door. After a moment the door opened, and the captain stationed outside peered in with a questioning look on his face.
"Sir, yes, sir?"
"Send me my Chief of Staff at once."
"Yes, sir. Your Chief of Staff. At once."
Healy ground his teeth. He hated the military with their discipline and haughty airs. He hated how they always repeated every word he said. He would correct that soon and then wipe the world of the Bairstow brothers and rule the entire realm of Belkin with full authority. The past ten years had been building to his final plan. A plan that would allow him dominion over all without question. Without all the rules and laws of bygone days. He had rid the world of that insufferable Archbishop and soon the Church would collapse with him. Nothing stood in his way except those loyal to the Bairstow brothers. And money. He needed the coin Redgrave had stolen. Money bought people and kept them loyal. And now that coin was lost once again.
He turned to demand what was taking his Chief of Staff so long and yelled out in fright. Kamal Sherwami, the emissary from Cian-Oirthear, stood before him and Healy only just managed not to raise his arms to hide his face.
"You disappoint me, Healy," said the man.
Healy knew without asking that Kamal was aware of everything that transpired. He always did. It was unnerving, but he had long learned not to question it. He swallowed and quickly thought. "Kamal, you know, you bade me use that Major when I was against it. I followed your direction. I don't know what has happened, but he is still in place, with his men holed up in Jergen."
"Yes, and there he will stay until Bairstow arrives. He must slay him by whatever means. Strike him down as he enters the city gates. I care not for exposure. Or repercussions. Do it. Do you understand?"
Healy stared in surprise. This was unlike Kamal. He always worked in the background. Silent and deadly in a way Healy admired. This was far too offensive. Too open.
"In view of everyone? That will be difficult to quell. To keep from my rule."
"Assassinate him. I care not what happens to the major. Bairstow must be removed from the game. Am I clear?"
"It will be as you say," Healy then hesitated. "One thing, the coin Redgrave stole. It has gone missing. Taken by the Sect according to my network. It is needed for the plan to work."
Kamal laughed. The sound was foreign and filled Healy's head in a way that made his bowels want to loosen. "The coin? I care not for coin. That is your affair. The chest in Jaipers was empty of all but pence. Two thousand of them. It seems Redgrave had the last laugh."
Healy stared in disbelief. Kamal had promised him the stolen treasury would be returned to him. It was the deal that pushed him down this latest venture, to where he stood today. Now it was exposed for what it was—a lie—and he was far too committed to back away. Healy felt doubt form in his thoughts. Lies built on more lies. Healy struggled to keep them sorted in his head. Some days he longed for the time before the Revolution. I was a simpler man back then.
The gold was important to his plans. If all the chest contained had been copper pence then where were my gold crown coins? It had taken him years to gather that much gold. His efforts to replace the amount since then paled in comparison. Frederick Bairstow and his brother Brent had forced him to keep his efforts quiet and small. The money he stole from the Realm now trickled in when once it poured.
If the stolen crowns were not in Jaipers where were they? Redgrave had taken all the coin in his vault all those years ago. His quiet investigation into the theft had revealed nothing. His investigator did not understand how Redgrave had found entrance nor how he had absconded with thousands of crowns in one night. There had been no witnesses. Torture had revealed much, but no one admitted to helping with the theft or knowing about it. A window of opportunity of a scant three hours had been identified when the theft had occurred. Healy was certain it was impossible to have moved that much gold in such a short time but Redgrave had managed it. Healy had long ago suspected the demon druids were behind it. Their magic could have done it—they probably made his men help them and then wiped their memories, he thought not for the first time.
The only time he and the Archbishop had agreed on anything was in dealing with the demons. The knowledge of men and women holding vast and powerful magic powers was abhorrent to him. He would wake in a sweat from dreams where he revisited the night of the coup attempt when the woman Belle Arbor revealed her powers and held him helpless. He watched again and again as she slew armed men with so little effort and looked so frighteningly calm while doing so. The air had been filled with a fine mist of blood and she had walked away untouched. He remembered his weakness, too. Once it had sunk in that an assassination had been attempted he had collapsed in front of the Archbishop. Thankful and open to almost anything, the Archbishop persuaded him to hand over the investigation to the Church. He had agreed and t
hen regretted it.
Word came to him over the years of the atrocities committed by the Church Sect. He looked away at the time and was thankful the demons were being eradicated without his hand on it. He now lived with nightmares and they were always the same: his limbs frozen against his will with his sight locked on Belle Arbor's calm visage as she snuffed the life from trained military men. His heart thudding in his chest beating out the time until she would inevitably turn to him. It was the lack of control which frightened him beyond measure. In the months and years later, the Archbishop would tell him tales of what the demons were capable of—what they were doing in the world. He tried drugs to stop the dreams, but they worsened. He had nearly reached the end of his sanity when Kamal had appeared. He promised to remove the nightmares with remedies from his land and helped him regain his authority and mind. Kamal had given him back his control.
It was Kamal who learned that the druid coin had been located and spoke of tracking where it went. That had led to the discovery that Bill Redgrave still lived. Healy remembered the furious anger when he learned that the traitor was in Jaipers sitting with a chest full of his stolen coin. He formulated a plan to get his gold back and remove one of the Bairstow brothers from his life. Then more ruin. His hand-picked men sent to recover the gold had been dismissed by the half-wit Brent Bairstow, his former General of the Lord Protector's Guard. Then he discovered the Church Sect, by orders from the Archbishop, had interfered in Jaipers and seized the chest. Healy had been beside himself for months. And then, as if the last laugh could be his, the gold crowns were not in the chest. In spite, he arranged the removal of the Archbishop through his old drug contact in the Chirurgeons Guild. Watching that man die, naked and in his own Church, was almost worth the price. Now he owned the Church and spread the drugs everywhere he could. He was making a tidy profit from the guild. Unexpectedly and fortuitously, the Church was gaining power throughout the Realm. When hope is gone, the masses turn to their God. And I rule their God. Better yet, I have someone powerful within the Church Sect. There is nothing I don't have my hands in now.
Stoc (A New Druids Series Book 3) Page 1
