Leaf and Branch (New Druids Series Vol 1 & 2)

by Donald D. Allan

  "Wuh, suh?"

  Gillespie hated the man's accent. He had that Northern twang and stretched out words and had him grasping sometimes to make sense of what he said.

  "You hit that bastard with your riding crop. That was excessive. I was surprised that prick Bairstow tolerated it. Stay in line and keep to the Army rules."

  The men grumbled a bit.

  "Shut it! Guards come from Army, so shut it and remember where you came from and whom you serve." Gillespie glared at the loudest of the men until they looked down to the dirt floor of the stable. "Our mission is clear. Stick to the plan and keep your fucking noses clean."

  The men looked at one another and some nodded in agreement.

  "Now. Beginning tomorrow I want you to start getting along a bit better. Start tossing out the occasional sir to Bairstow and Dixon. Get them relaxed a bit more. Make them think they have your respect. Slowly, though. Slowly, all right? Figure it out with the sergeants. I want a couple of the men starting it. Then spread it to the others over a few days. Slowly like. Let them two officers overhear you talking favourably about them — but mostly Bairstow. Pump his ego till its ready to burst. By the time we reach Belger I want him thinking he's the cow's tits with you lot. Got it?"

  The men murmured agreement and looked a little too pleased. Gillespie was annoyed with the men as a whole. They were too cocky and having far too much fun. It was important that they work hard at maintaining the illusion that Bairstow was their leader. The Lord Protector had ordered it done this way. He was quite clear on the matter. No sense arguing the orders, he thought. This is my shot to advance, and quickly. I'll do whatever he wants and however he wants it. There was a certain quality of horror to this approach that even Gillespie admired. He would have just slit his throat and be done with it. This approach, he thought, was a bit more, inventive and cruel?

  Gillespie turned his thoughts from Bairstow to Dixon. Beside Gately and David, he was an unexpected addition to their troupe. Gillespie's picked man had fallen in the castle on his way to the staging point leaving him with only his sergeants to handle matters. Gillespie was no fool. He was sure his man had been taken out so that Dixon could replace him. I haven't risen to Major in this man's Army without knowing how to make and break the rules and force the process to work in my favour. He recognised when he was being played. Dixon was well known in the Army and known to Bairstow's brother, the Knight-General. Gillespie knew a plant when he saw one. It warmed his heart to know that he would get to rid the Army of a brown-nosed suck ass such as Dixon. His time would come, and soon. His death would be a tricky one to pull off. That would have to be clearly an accident of some sort. Right now he just didn't know how to pull it off. Gillespie smiled to himself. He was confident he would find a way. It was a confidence won after having all the right connections and an assured rise to the top.

  The Lord Protector was a distant cousin of Gillespie; somewhere on their mothers' side. They shared a great-aunt or some such nonsense. But it was enough that Healey had trusted Gillespie to take care of this mission and had for many other missions in the past. This task was critical. It required a special touch and Gillespie knew how the Lord Protector wanted to play it. When he had laid out his plans to the Lord Protector he had been pleased to have the Protector approve it with such enthusiasm. He had even clasped him about the shoulders like brothers.

  Their meeting in the Lord Protector's private chambers was memorable to him. He remembered it vividly: the wine, the camaraderie, the feeling of being a part of something truly important.

  * * *

  "Agreed, major!" exclaimed Healy, the Lord Protector. He clasped the major's shoulder briefly. Gillespie looked startled at the sign of affection and smiled and tried to hide it with a sip of his expensive wine. He sat at the Lord Protector's dining table and meat, fruit and wine were laid out for the two of them but it was enough to feed eight or more. The Lord Protector sat on the table edge right next to him and piled a generous portion of venison on his plate, so rare and tender the blood pooled around it, so much it almost floated. Spit filled his mouth with hunger and he swallowed it to speak.

  "The men are shit, sir. 'Cept for my sergeants and my captain. They've all been with me from the start. Share a like mind, if you see. The others, they're all garbage. Can't be trusted to keep this quiet afterwards. Not like me, you see. And my sergeants. And the captain, too, of course."

  "Yes, yes, I do understand and I agree with you," murmured Healy with an odd gleam in his eye. "Dispensable. But, tell me. You do trust the men to do this right? To get to Jaipers and back again with all matters attended to? As we discussed?"

  "Oh, aye, sir," he said. "You've me word! On our mums' sisters!"

  Healy smiled and nodded. "One thing I must stress: I want you to string Bairstow along. Make him feel he's turned the men around. Start it off rough and then warm to him. Get him to trust them. Then take him down. I've words I want you to say to him just before you finish him. I want you to note how he looks. How he reacts. What he says. Precisely. Clear, my dear major?"

  "Sir, yes, sir!" Gillespie couldn't hide his smile. Feelings of warmth flooded him. Glory will be mine! I'm favoured by the Lord Protector!

  "I want the gold returned quietly. Outside of Munsten, you are to drop the gold at the location I told you about. Convince Bairstow to stop there. Once there, you'll finish him. Then your men. Then hide the gold. There will be bodies of highwaymen hidden nearby. Use them as a cover story. You were ambushed in camp. Your men died, including Bairstow. You escaped with the sergeants. It must look like an ambush. The Knight-General will investigate and it must be perfect. We will arrange the timings as you get closer. Use the message routes. You know where they are positioned along the road and in towns. Keep me informed at all times."

  Gillespie nodded, pleased and watched Healy return to his seat at the table. This was his plan. He had come up with it. Nothing could go wrong. It was simple and simple always worked. Killing the men would be pleasurable and that was gravy on his meat. And when he returned home he would be promoted and rise to the position of Knight-General. It is fortunate the Lord Protector is my cousin, even five or six times removed or whatever the hell it is. Family is family, though.

  The thought of all the gold tugged at him. He had already decided almost all of the gold crowns would be returned to Healy. Some of it — enough to make him comfortable for the rest of his life — would disappear on the way to the capital. The Lord Protector had let slip the count of the gold had never been done. The chest had been locked up and placed under guard in Jaipers. No one would know if he skimmed a little off the top.

  Gillespie turned his attention to his meat and tore into it with gusto, smiling with blood covered teeth.

  * * *

  The men in the stable glanced at one another as Gillespie stood quietly smiling at some private jest or memory. Gillespie pushed those memories away and looked at the men and thought, instead, about how good it would be when he got rid of them for good. All of them were rotten to the core.

  "Right," he said and looked to the sergeants who smiled back at him. Loyal to the cause of the Lord Protector, the sergeants knew the plan and would benefit from the gains. There was enough gold for them all. "Then let's be about it. I want sore heads and black eyes by the morrow. Give Bairstow a discipline issue to solve and he'll think he has the gift when he solves it. Now get out. Sergeants stay."

  The men thumped each other on the back and grinned, careful not to make noise and give themselves away. Gillespie approved how they staggered their exit out of the stables and pitched their voices once they were well clear. Once the men were gone he waited for a spell. He motioned to Sergeant Henson and watched him exit the barn.

  A few moments later the sergeant returned. "All clear, suh! Narry a soul aboot."

  "Fine. You two. Get the men in line smoother. This has to look natural to Bairstow and that prick Dixon. One whiff of something not right and all this falls apart and the heavy-
handed solution will have to be enforced. Speaking of which, you two are being too rough and your words are out of character. Get smarter. Watch yer mouths."

  "Sir," responded the sergeants in unison.

  "Gately and David. I want them removed in Belger. We'll be there for three days resupplying and meeting with the local authorities on capital matters. Bairstow has a busy schedule there with the Chamber of Commerce and so we have time to do this carefully. I don't care what you do, but figure out how to do it and execute it. No signs, no evidence. I don't want the men starting to figure out what lies in store for them. Afterwards, act surprised. Worried. Confide in the men and gain their trust again. They will be nervous. Clear?"

  The sergeants grinned at one another and nodded. Gillespie could see they were looking forward to killing the two men and it amused them as much as it amused him. The men didn't matter to him and their deaths certainly didn't, but that didn't mean you couldn't enjoy it and these two seemingly did. The Lord Protector had used the three of them — four with their missing captain — many times in the past for just these types of covert actions. The truth was they excelled at it and they were reliable. He knew without asking that Gately and David would simply disappear in Belger and after a time Bairstow, pressed for time, would assume they fell prey to foul play or deserted. Either lie worked. In truth, they would be dismembered and fed to the sharks off the coast.

  The Lord Protector counts on me, thought Gillespie. Only I can do the dirty work that needs to be done. And it's high time for me to earn a little pay on top of the promotion waiting for me when I return to Munsten.

  "Watch the men tonight. Make sure they keep their fucking mouths tight as traps about our mission. But I want drinking, singing, whoring and fighting. I don't care in which order. Just so long as half of them are sorry asses in the morning requiring the direct attention of Bairstow. Butter him up. Make him think he's swayed us over to his way of thinking. When we take him down in Jaipers the pleasure will be that much more enjoyable." He eyed the men to make sure the message was understood and seeing understanding in their eyes and pleased looks, he nodded. "Dismissed."

  The sergeants snapped to attention and saluted and left the stables quickly. Gillespie waited a half hour and then, hearing nothing, went to the back corner of the stables and lifted a flagstone using a hoof jack. He was disappointed to see the small hollow in the dirt under the stone was empty. He reached into his tunic and extracted a small piece of paper and dropped it in the small hollow and dropped the stone back in place and stood to listen once more. The note would be picked up by the Protector's messengers and delivered right to him. The network of drop holes and the like were all over the country.

  Hearing nothing of interest, he quietly headed to his room in the inn. He had stayed here many times in the past and, by now, his favourite girl in this shit hole of a village would have warmed his bed. She liked it rough and didn't seem to mind the bruises the next day.

  At least she's never complained to me! He laughed loudly with his head thrown back and strode out of the stables and into the warm evening air.

  Twenty-Three

  On the Road to Laketown, 900 A.C.

  I WOULD LIKE to say I fought them in the end and that, after a valiant effort on my part, they bested me, but sadly, it was not the case. I could not run for long in the heat of summer. After about thirty minutes of running, I slowed, unconsciously, to a shuffling walk. When I would cast out with my senses I would quickly find the two men moving unhurriedly closer and closer to me. Panic would stoke my energy anew and I would burst into speed down the road. I tried to draw strength from the Earth but I could not draw enough to overcome the drain my haste caused. I clawed outwards with my power and reached for whatever I could find, but my mind would not settle enough to allow me purchase. I sensed disquiet around me and it only heightened my fears. My thirst grew and I could no longer swallow with my dried throat and I feared I would choke.

  At some point, when I knew for certain Laketown remained out of reach, I turned and ran off the road in desperation to escape into the wilderness. That seemed to open the distance to the men and I thanked my quick thinking. I soon found a stream and its lure overcame my fear and I dropped to the bank and greedily sucked in as much water as I could. I sensed the men entering the woods and drawing closer to me and soon I could linger no longer and I leapt up, feeling a little better, to run off again into the woods.

  It was soon after they caught up to me. Too late, I realised I had made the job easier for them by leaving the road. I was in a clearing and crawling on my hands and knees. I sensed them behind me and I turned and screamed in terror. They stopped at the edge and stared at me. One had his head cocked and looked at me like he would a piece of furniture. I recognised them from Jaipers. They were the same men from the town. The garrison men who had tried to stop me from leaving.

  I scrambled backwards. "Please! Leave me alone! What do you want from me?"

  Silence descended on the clearing and only the rough rasping sound of my laboured breath could be heard. The older one drew a short piece of thick wood and rushed me. I screamed and turned to escape and felt him strike the back of my head. My last thought was I had failed my promise to my mother and then I knew nothing.

  Peter and Jeremy sat a good distance away from the Target and watched him carefully with trained eyes. Peter had been surprised at the ease of the capture. When they had seen him bolt off down the road they knew they had been seen. Peter, having seen this before knew the boy had used magycs to discover them. He also knew — with no small amount of shock — that his range must be exceptional. Normally the heathens could only sense a few tens of feet at most, but the Target had sensed them at over half a mile. All the while with Peter and Jeremy carrying a ruby clenched in their fists. This was extraordinary. No wonder the Sect feared him so much.

  They had trailed the demon for a few days, watching outside the normal detection range. It had been many, many years since he had hunted a demon, but Peter had known soon enough something was not right. They had bided their time out of range to get a feel of him. They were ready to grab him when the Target had sensed them and bolted. Peter had stood and watched him disappear down the road with his backpack slapping back and forth. The image of the demon running blinding down the road was a tale he would gladly tell once back with the Sect. Demons were powerful creatures and almost unstoppable. The red stones the Sect carried helped deflect demon power but nothing could stop their control of plants and animals. And he watched the boy run at full speed in the heat of the day down an open road.

  They had glanced at one another and ran after him. Jeremy had laughed and joked that all the tales couldn't be true. Peter had ignored him. He had witnessed too many Sect members killed by the heathen powers. It stole the heat from his body to think of it.

  Peter suspected the boy knew little of his magycs. He wouldn't have simply run off like he had if he had known what he could do. Watching the boy sprint away, Peter had hesitated, waiting to see him melt into the surrounding hills and disappear. When he continued straight down the dirt road in plain view he first began to suspect that, perhaps, the Target was not in control of his powers and he bolted after him in pursuit. A few minutes later, Peter watched as the Target veered off the road into the woods and he and Jeremy stumbled on the road, certain they were being led into a trap. Everyone in the Sect knew what powers the demons controlled in the wilds. So they slowed and bided their time a little longer.

  Witnessing the aimless crashing of the Target through the woods had made him realise the boy was simply running in full panic and did not possess his true powers. Normally demons drew massive amounts of power from the ground as they moved through the world. The boy should have been able to run for days without stop and yet he had stopped at the stream and drank like any another parched man.

  The end of the chase had been strange to say the least. Peter had expected to have to fight off plants, vines and animals but nothing had hap
pened. It had been like chasing down any normal boy. From the stream, Peter and Jeremy had loped off after the boy, his stride no match for theirs. As they entered into a large clearing, they found the boy screaming and scrambling to get away from them. The demon was exhausted, drained and panicked — everything Peter had not expected to find. Overcoming his surprise and caution, Peter reacted quickly. He drew out his cudgel and struck the boy behind the ear and then quickly retreated to watch him for a moment. When the Target didn't stir Peter felt giddy and afraid at the same time. He waited for animals to appear and vines to wrap around his ankles. When nothing happened he took out the special binding ropes, stripped the boy with help from Jeremy, and tied him up as he had done so many times before to the other demons.

  He was pleased to see his skills had not diminished despite the years since the last demon had been hunted down. He smiled at the feel of the rope in his hands. At times it felt like a snake and at other times like the strongest steel. The rope was special and, according to Seth, it had been created by God, and none doubted it. Seth said once a demon was bound with the rope it thwarted their ability to reach the earth with their senses. It never failed. Peter watched it tighten on its own around the Target and felt pleased and safe at last.

  He turned to look at Jeremy and was disappointed to see he had fear in his eyes. "What do you fear, Jeremy? This?" And he pointed to the Target who was expertly tied with his knees drawn up tight against his chest to restrict his breathing. "He won't escape that rope. He's bound and impotent now."

  Jeremy nodded and licked his dry lips and looked quickly to Peter and back to stare at the Target. "The ropes. They move like they're alive. That's not natural, that. Not at all."

  "Aye, lad," snorted Peter, understanding the fear in the lad now. "The ropes were created by God through Seth they are. You are witnessing God's power, lad. Sure as by God. Right there."