The Arcanist

by Greg Curtis

  “She's not a dryad.”

  “Tenarri, now hush!” He kicked his brother again, but not too hard this time. “And eyes down!”

  But even as he shushed his brother, Edouard pondered the fact that the handmaiden hadn't asked for their names. Either Tyrel knew them, which seemed unlikely, or she didn't care. Why didn't she care? Was it that all men were the same to her – sinners? Or was it that there was no point in knowing their names when they were about to die? Edouard didn't like that thought. But he knew it was a possibility.

  He carefully didn't mention his concern to Marcus. His brother had enough to deal with in just remembering to be respectful. So instead of talking about it, they stood silently in the bright sunshine and waited. They seemed to wait forever though that was probably just nerves. Of course his brother hated silence as much as he hated inactivity.

  “Why are you so edgy?”

  Edouard sighed as he realised his older brother still didn't understand the precariousness of their position. It wasn't surprising. Magic wasn't well understood by most people. There were few practitioners and most people lived quiet lives without needing it. Especially when there was technology to fill the void. Then too Therion had been a peaceful place for a long time. No one had seen the effects of a malicious cast in years if not decades. And when something like that did happen, it was merely a curiosity. He had to think for a moment about how to explain it to him. But at least while there were no handmaidens nearby to overhear them, he could.

  “You remember that boar you hunted down with just a knife when you were fifteen?” Of course he did. It was one of his proudest achievements. A fifteen year old boy taking on a wild boar with a knife. Marcus nodded.

  “Now consider that we're here preparing for that same battle again. But this time the boar stands a hundred men high at the shoulder, breaths fire, and instead of a knife you have a turnip in your hand.”

  “A turnip?”

  Marcus stared at him, disbelief written all over his face. Maybe he had misspoken Edouard thought.

  “If that. If this goes badly, we'll both be dead before you can ask what happened. Or worse. And the lady does not like me.”

  “What?! Now you tell me?” Marcus turned abruptly to stare at him. Finally his brother understood something, if only that he shouldn't be there with him.

  “She doesn't dislike me. I hope. But our paths have crossed over the years. I've helped a few runaways from time to time. I’ve got them to safety. She will not be happy about that.”

  “Runaways?”

  “Many stupid boys from the nearer towns like Breakwater come to this temple thinking to spy on the pretty women. Many husbands and boyfriends journey here hoping to drag back their loved ones. Few of them escape the grounds, and of those that do fewer still would get away without my help.”

  And of course because of that there was an extra problem for the two of them. If they had to escape, who would be there to help them? No one else would be so stupid as him.

  A little later they watched the handmaiden return, walking sedately and with a smile on her face. A smile she wore presumably because she had been speaking with her Honoured Mother. It was supposed to be a privilege even for her handmaidens. Then again maybe it was because she had also been granted the privilege of escorting her mistress to them; Edouard could see the hamadryad only a little way behind her. So could his brother, and Marcus looked to be about to say something stupid in his shock.

  “Bow!” Edouard hissed at his brother and then kicked him when that wasn't enough. He had to kick Marcus hard to remind him of what was expected in the court of a power. The big oaf just wanted to stand there and stare. But the pain was instructive and they both bowed low before her as they waited.

  Perhaps it wasn't too unreasonable for him to want to stare though. Tyrel was a very surprising sight.

  In form she might have been human, more or less. Even quite attractive, in a strange and magical sort of a way. If you liked bark for skin and ferns for hair, the odd twig and leaf here and there, and of course a woman who stood twelve feet high. Tens of thousands of years ago her dryad ancestors it was said – no one knew for certain – had somehow merged with the trees they served, and her kind were the offspring of those outlandish unions. But form counted for little in the true world and even as small a spark as Edouard was could see the aura of power that surrounded her. Magical might so intense that it somehow made the entire world seem grey and false. Staring at her for a spark was like a normal man staring at the sun – blinding.

  That was the difference between him and his brother. Marcus saw only a twelve foot tall tree woman. He could fight such a woman. Edouard saw the unquestionable might of a power and he knew there could be no battle. It would be easier to fight an erupting volcano.

  “Edouard Severin of the House of Barris. Your name is known to me.”

  Of course it was, Edouard thought, though he wished very much that it wasn't.

  “You would be the nuisance living on the edge of my domain, upsetting my handmaidens.”

  The first words out of her mouth, and Edouard's blood ran cold. But he had expected the accusation and he steeled himself to give an answer. The best answer that he could.

  “I do indeed live on the edge of your domain Honoured Mother, but it has never been my intention to cause you or your handmaidens annoyance.” Especially now that he was in her temple garden, standing not ten feet from her, his neck aching already as he strained to look up at her. A place he had never planned on being.

  “And yet you do.” Sweat was starting to bead on Edouard's forehead as he straightened up and tried to look respectful.

  “I apologise most humbly for that.” He did. Actually he would have fallen to his knees and grovelled if it would have helped. It was only the fact that he knew it wouldn't that kept him standing on his shaking legs.

  “I suppose that it is meet that you have come to apologise.” The hamadryad seemed almost pleased by the thought. “Few among your kind would do so, even knowing that they had wronged me.”

  His kind Edouard knew, wasn't human or even mortal. It was men. Men of all races. The Mother really didn't like them. But he let that slight pass as he kept his hands politely crossed before him and tried to maintain a calm but respectful demeanour.

  “So from this day forward we can expect no more of these mistakes?” The lady asked so sweetly that Edouard almost agreed on the spot. He didn't want to disappoint her. But he had to be honest. Besides, she would know a lie anyway.

  “I'm sorry Honoured Mother, but I cannot promise that.” He wished he could though. Wished it with every fibre and sinew of his being. Then it was his turn to grunt with pain as he felt his brother's steel clad boot connect with his shin. That hurt!

  “Oh?” She did not sound amused.

  “Though these men, most of them little more than boys, have committed wrongs against your handmaidens, the wrongs they have committed are small, and the fear in their hearts is large. I could not in good conscience return boys with such terrible fear to the one they are afraid of. It would be intolerably cruel.”

  And he would likely be sending them to their deaths, if they were lucky. The Honoured Mother had a brutal sense of justice. That was the reason he helped them to run. These were not horrible, vile men. They were not rapists and murderers out to take what they could get from the mother's servants. For the most part they were stupid young village boys, out as part of a dare or simply for curiosity, to spy on the pretty women who peopled her temple. Boys doing boyish things.

  “I am never cruel.” Tyrel seemed a little annoyed by the idea, even though her system of justice was barbaric at best. The luckiest of the boys would probably have had their eyes and their manhood torn from them simply for the crime of staring.

  “Of course not Honoured Mother. It's just that these children fear your wrath so greatly that their hearts might well explode in their chests even at the thought of coming before you.”

  “They
know that they have done wrong in spying on your handmaidens. I have always made sure that they understand that at least. And when they run off to faraway places, they will spread the word of their mistakes to others, and so I hope warn others not to be so foolish.”

  Actually they mostly ran to the nearer cities he suspected, and learned to drink vast quantities of ale as they told their tall tales to the other drunken patrons. They might actually make things worse. But they were still children and lovesick fools for the most part. He would have sent any violent thugs back to her.

  “A pretty tongue and a fool’s heart.” The Mother seemed unimpressed with him as she gave her verdict. But at least she didn't sound angry. But then if she had been angry they would likely already be dead.

  “I am but a simple mortal honoured Mother.” He bowed again, almost daring to breathe as he did so. Maybe, just maybe, he was going to be forgiven his crimes. Maybe they'd be able to leave this place intact.

  And then Marcus had to open his mouth.

  “This is stupid –.” Edouard kicked him, very hard, stopping his impertinent outburst before it got any further. But the damage was done, and the hamadryad's gaze had shifted from him to his brother.

  “Please forgive my brother his ill-judged words Honoured Mother.” Edouard gave the desperate apology knowing that he did not ever want to see what she might do to Marcus if he annoyed her. “He meant no disrespect. He is a good man with a good heart, and an honest soldier. He would not have come here at all save that his king commanded him to.”

  “His king?” The lady seemed unimpressed, and understandably so. To her a king was no more important than any other man. In other words completely insignificant. But at least she had been distracted. “What do I care of his king? Do I even know him?”

  “Probably not Honoured Mother. Like all men he is surely beneath your notice. But my brother and I are simple mortals, and to us our king is important. And so when he commands us to come before you and speak on a matter of great importance to the people, we must obey.”

  “This king of yours sent you to disturb me?”

  “Never, only to ask for your great wisdom in answering a question of a terrible suffering.”

  Marcus stared at him, obviously wondering why he was being so obsequious. It wasn't the way a man of the House of Barris should act, especially when he had been given a mission by the king. A twelve foot tall woman made of tree bark and covered in leaves and moss didn't trouble him in the slightest. But at least he didn't say anything.

  “Were women harmed in this suffering?”

  “Many, Honoured Mother. A great many. Hundreds of innocent men, women and children were killed. Thousands were injured. And tens of thousands have been left homeless. Also, the shrine of your handmaidens was damaged in the attack.”

  “Innocent women and children? My shrine? Why is it that men do such terrible things?”

  And why was it he wondered, that she was looking at him as she asked? Did she imagine he had something to do with it? Or did she truly imagine he might have some sort of answer?

  “With respect we do not know who did this terrible thing Honoured Mother. We do not know if he was a man at all. Nor why he did this thing. All that we truly know is that someone of great power opened a portal just outside of Theria and sent through an entire herd of frightened mammoths. They levelled half the city in their stampede, trampling and killing many.”

  “Yesterday evening? I felt that. But I had no thought that it was done to cause harm. Had I known that defenceless women and children would be deliberately attacked I would have paid more attention. And innocent beasts were frightened too. It is unforgivable.”

  Edouard believed her. Despite everything Tyrel was actually quite a decent woman for a power. She did not set out to cause harm to anyone, let alone those she considered her wards. Unless of course they annoyed her or threatened those she considered her charges. Then harm did not go anywhere near far enough to describe what she did.

  “Remain here. I must think upon this. I must collect my memories of the evening to see if there is anything to be done.” She turned on her heels and took off for the temple, before stopping suddenly and turning back.

  “Little Edouard of the foolish heart, for once you were right to act as you have in bringing this to me. You give me hope that even among your sorry kind there are some with a spark of decency.”

  Edouard bowed to her in gratitude, and then watched her walk away, back to her shrine. And for a moment he almost imagined that they were going to get out of this alive. Then his brother had to open his mouth again.

  “Why is she naked?”

  Marcus whispered the foolish question in his ear, his thoughts clearly not on the mission as he'd already forgotten everything Edouard had told him. But then he was a natural born lecher and he was surrounded by pretty women. Left to his own devices he would have forgotten everything about the king's mission and simply stood there staring like a dog with his tongue hanging out. Then of course Tyrel would have been offended and judgement would have been passed. That was why Edouard had come with him. Not that he had really expected that Tyrel would have any knowledge of the attack or any involvement with it.

  “Close your mouth you idiot! She can hear every word you speak!” Edouard hissed. Unfortunately it was too late. Tyrel turned back once more from her path to the temple, and stared at them. She did not look happy.

  “Is that of concern to you mortal man? Do you find my lack of dress distressing in some way? Unbecoming?”

  “Never Honoured Mother.” Edouard jumped in again, knowing his brother would have no clue as to how bad things could get if the Mother became upset with him – and that he would probably say something even more foolish. “My brother is simply unused to the ways of your temple. No slight was intended.”

  “A silver tongue in sooth.” The hamadryad studied him once more leaving Edouard feeling distinctly uncomfortable. “And it is praiseworthy that you so quickly jump to your brother's defence, time and again. But it is not so praiseworthy that you should have to.”

  She turned to Marcus and Edouard's blood chilled.

  “Marcus Severin you are known as a lecher of the first water. The only reason you still live is that you have not forced your will upon the young or vulnerable against their will and you have sometimes chosen to act in their defence. But yours is not a record to be proud of. It is certainly not the life of someone who should feel welcome in my temple.”

  “I dress or not as I choose, and none shall question me on it.” With a thought, nothing more, she took his clothes off him and in the blink of an eye his brother was left standing there, buck naked.

  “Huh?”

  Edouard leapt on him before he could say anything more, wrapped him up in a bear hug and physically covered his mouth with his hand, making sure he didn't try.

  “Most fair Honoured Mother.” Edouard even managed a slight nod to her as he gasped the words out, and that seemed to be enough as she turned away from them once more and headed off to her temple, saying nothing. Though she might have noticed the way Marcus was trying to wriggle out of his clutches, tossing him around like an annoying flea if she'd looked back. Praise the seven she didn't. Marcus had been given a very blunt warning.

  “Not a bloody word!” Grief Marcus was strong he thought as his brother lifted him off the ground and started wriggling around, trying to flick him off him like a wet dog shaking himself dry. “Not a single bloody word from you! No more!”

  He let go then and let his brother turn to face him, to see the worry in his eyes and the deadly seriousness in his heart. Marcus had to understand how bad things were. Then, predictably enough, Marcus remembered that he was naked and his hands went to his manhood as he tried desperately to cover himself up.

  “Where are my clothes? My armour? My sword?”

  “Gone you great oaf! Be grateful you aren't gone with them. The hamadryad isn't going to tolerate another word from you. Now hush. We wait silentl
y and respectfully for the Honoured Mother to make her decision. And whatever it is, we accept it with gratitude.”

  “But –.”

  “No! Seven bloody hells no Marcus! Men have no say here. Mortal men even less. And you none at all. In fact I don't know why she spared your life! All the weapons and armies in the world could not change that this is Tyrel's place. This is never a place that we should have come.”

  They spent the next little while like that, Marcus upset about his missing clothes and Edouard trying to keep him quiet. He just didn't seem to understand that he could have disappeared with his clothes in the same blink of an eye. It didn't help that as they stood there, Marcus desperately trying to cover himself with his hands, the handmaidens were wandering past, all of them trying to hide a smile. In fact he just turned red and grew more angry.

  But at least when Tyrel returned he had learned better than to open his mouth, and so instead he just stood there, head bowed, hands strategically placed. He was finally learning at least a little wisdom.