The Ancients: Book 3 in the Cedarstone Chronicles

by Sean Stone

  He returned to his room and pulled out a parchment and quill that he had seen in one of the drawers. He sat down at the desk and began jotting down his thoughts. He found that it was actually quite difficult to think of ways to make a man regret all his decisions. Then it came to him; gather up all of Bolingbroke's family — his wife, and all his children; as Nick remembered he had many — and make him watch each of them die. Once he had witnessed all their deaths only then could he too be given the sword. He jotted down his scheme and then all of the names of Henry's children that he could remember. Once done he folded the slip of parchment and stuffed it up his sleeve where he would not forget it. Once he had his army and returned to England he would make sure he enacted every detail.

  The months passed and Nick spent them with Kayla or Set, watching them perform simple acts of magic mainly for his amusement. Kayla took him for walks in the woods, and Set showed him the many potions that he had created, many of his own design. When he was alone, Nick contemplated his revenge, always trying to perfect the plan, treating it like a delicate work of art. One afternoon Kayla came to his room and sat down on the edge of his bed. He turned his chair to face her. Her face told him straight away that she had bad news.

  "You have heard of my companions?" he asked, knowing it would not be good.

  She nodded. "I am sorry, Nickolas. You are the sole survivor. Pieces of the wreckage washed up in both England and France. Bodies washed up too. But none living."

  Nick hung his head, trying to process the information he had been given. Edward's plan shot to sunshine by a single storm. Nick could hardly carry out the rest of the plot alone, he was only a child, and he didn't even know what the plan was once he'd arrived in France, his escorts had the instructions, not him. Although, maybe he didn't need his companions. The lump of gold Set had given him was more than enough to purchase an army. If he could buy some soldiers he could remove Bolingbroke from the throne still. It seemed far-fetched, though. Who would follow an eleven-year-old boy?

  "There is more," Kayla said. "I have asked about the situation in England. Bolingbroke has been crowned king. And Richard is dead."

  "He executed the king?" Nick said in horror. The act was unthinkable. The king was God's own anointed. That might mean little to Nick but not the majority of the people of England. The clergy in particular and after the king, they were probably the second biggest power in the land.

  "No. The official story is that he took a vow of hunger and starved to death. Rumour has it that Bolingbroke may have ordered his starvation," said Kayla softly.

  "What am I to do then? I can't go home. Nobody will follow a boy into battle." He could feel tears coming. His life as he had known it was over. The wretched Bolingbroke had ruined everything.

  Kayla looked at him sympathetically. "You are welcome to stay here, in my care," she said and reached out to wipe a tear from his cheek.

  "I can?" he asked, lip quivering uncontrollably.

  "Of course, you can, my child." She grabbed hold of his shoulders and pulled him into her bosom, holding him tight, the way he always imagined his mother might've held him if she'd loved him enough to keep him, rather than dumping him on the steps of the palace. "You have had too much to deal with at your age. You are only a boy but you have had the weight of a kingdom put on your shoulders. Stay here with me and worry about it no more," she whispered softly in his ear.

  "Thank you, my Lady," he said, forgetting in his grief that she was not a lady. There were no ladies here. She was just Kayla.

  "There is one thing you must do first, though," she said.

  He pulled away and wiped his eyes so he could see her better. "What?" he said, strings of saliva forming over his lips.

  She took hold of his arm and placed her hand over the exact place where he kept his revenge plan. "You must give this up. Vengeance has no place here in Elysium. If you want to stay you must let go of these hateful thoughts and move on with your life. The politics of England should not concern you any longer, you will have a much better life right here with me."

  He nodded slowly and the plucked the parchment from his sleeve. He looked at, thinking about whether he could really forget about it all. "But I hate him. So much," Nick said, his hands balling into tight fists of their accord.

  "I know, and I would expect no less. Your feelings will not dissipate instantly, but if you let them go they will leave over time. You have to make that first step, Nickolas, you have to make that commitment." She held out her hand.

  He looked at her hand and then back to the parchment. He wanted to kill Bolingbroke and make him suffer so much for what he had done, but that would not bring back King Richard and restore him to the throne, it would not give Nick back the life he had known and it would not legitimise him. Even if it could achieve all that how would Nick even get to Bolingbroke? He had nothing and the world thought he was dead. Nickolas Fitzroy never existed to the majority of England, and now he no longer existed to the few people who did know of him. Fitzroy was dead and he was once again just Nickolas. He placed the parchment in Kayla's palm and then wiped his hand on his leg absent-mindedly.

  "Well done, child," she said and smiled broadly, her eyes lighting up with pride. It was a look no-one had ever given him before. "Come, let us get some lunch."

  Present Day

  After the ritual with James, Nick retreated to his study. He'd been truthful with James when he said they were close to the completion of their goals but there was still a lot to do. One wrong step and it would all be over. Kayla posed the biggest threat. She was also the one standing in his way. Avoiding her would not work for him, he needed to remove her or he would not be able to procure the final item required. The sarcophagus plan had been shot to smoke, but luckily he had another plan. It was a better plan, but it was far more dangerous and would require far more power. Power that he could obtain by killing Osiris. Just as soon as Osiris had regained his power Nick would take it from him and then use it against Kayla. He needed to plan meticulously. He had seen Osiris in action and it wasn't pretty. He was skilled and powerful, more so than Nick. It would take real cunning to defeat the ancient, and a secret weapon; one that Nick was already in the process of acquiring.

  He walked into the room and closed the door behind him. It wasn't until he sunk into the chair behind his desk that he noticed somebody had been standing behind the door. Someone familiar and not in a pleasant way.

  "Arden," Nick said disdainfully. He was one of Kayla's druids, a condescending and irritating man. He was effectively her second-in-command.

  "Good evening, Nickolas," he said, as politely as he could bring himself to. He took a few steps forward but no more. He clearly had no desire to get too close to Nick. Nick could understand why; it had been centuries since the two of them had seen each other and even then Nick had been powerful enough to frighten Arden. Now his power had increased one-hundred times over at least. Druid's had no power of their own, not active power, they were only good for providing other sorcerers with a boost. Nick had looked for some to serve him once, but they were in short supply so he'd given up.

  "I knew she was here. I could sense her," said Nick. Arden was the confirmation.

  "Yet you did not come to welcome her to this place," Arden said, a small smile curving his lips. He knew Nick was scared and he loved it.

  "She is not welcome here," Nick replied.

  "Perhaps not to you. But there are others in this town who would very much like her to stay." No doubt he was talking about Clara Winters or any of the others who wanted Nick dead.

  "I assume you have a message for me?" asked Nick, holding his hand out. Arden reached into his coat and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. Nick wiggled his fingers and the paper flew through the air and landed in his palm. "After all this time you're still nothing more than a servant," he mocked, unfolding the paper. Arden made no reply and Nick moved his focus to the note. It had only one line of text.

  Abandon your plans and I'll allow y
ou to come home.

  — Kayla

  Anger surged through him, red hot and alive. How dare she. How dare she suggest that he would drop everything he worked for just for the chance to run home with her. That offer may have worked once but not now. That place was not his home. Not anymore. And she was nobody to him now. Her offer was an empty one. It offered nothing to Nick, only memories which he would sooner forget. His anger caused the paper to burst into flames and he tossed the ashes aside.

  "England is my home. Not that island she hides away on," Nick said, turning back to Arden. "Isn't it about time she went back there?"

  "She will return home once she has done what she came to do," Arden said simply.

  "And will she achieve that by hiding away and sending you out to deliver notes? Why doesn't she come out and face me herself? Is she too afraid that she might not be able to defeat me this time?" Nick said, knowing it to be untrue.

  "You were nothing when you came to us," Arden said. "Just a little boy with nothing to his name. Not even a name in fact. You were powerless in every sense of the word. Now, after over six hundred years, you have gathered all sorts of magic and a good many people to stand by your side, and yet, in the face of Kayla you are still powerless. You will always be powerless." Arden stuck out his bottom lip in a mocking gesture.

  Nick rose slowly from his seat. "Powerless, am I? A bold claim, coming from a druid. After all, your just a magical eunuch." Nick released his jinni power and his entire form turned to thick black smoke. Arden's face fell into one of horror and Nick darted at him. Kayla could have him back devoid of life and then she'd understand that she was on Nick's territory now. Far from home and all alone. But as Nick reached Arden his eyes changed. The brown was replaced by blue and they glared at him furiously. Arden raised his hand and Nick rebounded off an invisible barrier. He came crashing down to the floor and was forced back into his human form again. He looked up at Arden but it was not Arden inside, not now. Kayla was inhabiting his body, using it as a vessel. She'd even managed to transfer her power to him.

  Impressive, if only he could do that with his disciples.

  "Is this the only way you'll face me? Behind the face of another?" he demanded. He didn't bother getting to his feet, she'd likely just throw him back down again. The fact that she could carry her magic into the body of another was enough to tell Nick that she out-powered him by a great deal.

  "You know I do not fear you so stop playing the fool," she said. Even though it was in Arden's voice, it was hers that Nick heard in his mind.

  "You will not trap me. Not again." Fifty-four years in that bunker had taught him to be more cautious.

  "I would rather not have to. Please, Nickolas, forget these plans of yours," she asked him gently.

  "Never. I have to finish what I started. I have to," he argued empathically. If only she could understand his needs then maybe she'd stop standing in his way.

  "What you are attempting is pure folly and nigh on impossible. Even if you achieve it you will bring chaos to the world. Is the entire world worth this?"

  "Yes," Nick said, not missing a beat. He had asked himself that question many times in the past and the answer was always the same. He would risk the world a hundred times over to fulfil his one desire. To regain what he had lost.

  "You might think so but you are wrong. Don't do this, Nickolas. Don't force me to stop you. Don't make me kill you," she said the last sentence in barely more than a whisper. She clicked Arden's fingers and the entire room turned black. When the darkness dissipated Arden was gone.

  *

  CHAPTER TEN

  Eric woke up alone in the woods, his eyes wet from tears. His anger was gone and in its place was a familiar feeling. The same feeling he'd had after killing Connor. Guilt. Remorse. It was different this time. Weaker. Perhaps because Holden had started the fight, or maybe he was just finding it a little easier the second time around. Or maybe it was because this time, it hadn't been murder. Either way, he didn't like it. He wanted to stay curled up on the woodland floor and wait for everything to be fine again. He needed a release. He'd tried to talk to his mother about what he was feeling after Connor, but she'd told him to man up. She'd never been one for talking about feelings. He hadn't been able to tell Natalie what he'd done. He was terrified that she'd be disgusted and leave him. She'd told him not to do anything he couldn't live with and he'd done the opposite. Maybe he could live with it, though. After time maybe it would get easier. Maybe he just needed to talk to the right person. Natalie loved him. She loved him unconditionally, and nothing could drive her alway from him. That's what she always said anyway. He had to come clean. It was the only thing he could think of to do.

  He wiped his eyes and climbed to his feet. His injuries from the fight were completely healed, but his limbs were stiff from the transformation. He stretched himself out as he searched for his clothes and by the time he was dressed his body felt normal. He was filthy and looked a mess, but that didn't matter. After he'd said what he needed to say to Natalie she wouldn't care about his appearance. Or his smell.

  On his way to his car, he pulled out his phone and saw that he had twelve missed calls from Natalie. Panic gripped his heart as he started running through things that might've happened to her. Something terrible must've taken place or she wouldn't have called him so much, not when she knew he'd be unable to answer. He returned the call and waited for her to answer. Just two rings in she accepted the call.

  "Eric?" she sounded frightened.

  "It's me. What's the matter? Why did you call?" he asked hurriedly.

  "I… I was attacked," she said.

  "By who?" He already had a suspect in mind. Or suspects. Holden's buddies. When his plan had failed they'd embarked on one of their own.

  "I don't remember. Just please, come over."

  He went straight there.

  "What do you mean you don't remember?" Eric demanded as he barged through the door to her flat. He was surveying his surroundings as he went. Natalie lived on the ground floor so it would be easy enough for a werewolf to get into her place. The living room was a mess. Furniture upended and items strewn across the floor. There had certainly been a struggle. Eric sniffed the air but picked up no trace of a wolf. It was possible that they'd done something to mask their scent. Maybe coated themselves in mud. But there was no mud on the carpet. No claw marks on the door or walls. No evidence that it had been a wolf.

  "I just don't remember," Natalie said.

  "Then how do you know you were attacked?" Eric took hold of her and looked her over. He made sure to check everywhere. Every inch of skin. There were no scratches. No bite marks. Not even a bruise. Eric released the breath he'd been holding. It couldn't have been a werewolf. Not even the most skilled hunter could have gotten in and out without leaving any signs.

  "I just know. It's like… I can't explain but Eric please, believe me. I know I was attacked. But I can't remember anything," she said, looking into his eyes pleadingly. "It's like deja vu, you know? I know it happened but I can't remember how."

  "I believe you. It just doesn't make any sense." The only thing that could have pulled off such an attack was a sorcerer or a vampire. A sorcerer could have used magic to force her to forget and a vampire could have used manipulation. But a vampire wouldn't have been able to get in without an invite and there would have been signs. Smells. But then the same was true of a sorcerer. Sure, they could have gotten in easily enough and used magic to make her forget, but could they have erased their smell? He'd have to look into it. But the big question was still why.

  "You haven't fallen out with anyone have you?" he asked.

  She shook her head. "No."

  "Alright, well I haven't got a clue what's happened, but I need to keep you safe. You need to come and stay with me until we figure this out."

  "But your mother…" she said, leaving it hanging. She didn't need to explain to Eric.

  "If she does anything, I'll deal with her," Eric promised. />
  Once home Eric showed Natalie straight upstairs and left her to unpack her things. On his way back down he found Serena waiting patiently at the bottom of the stairs.

  "Go on then. Say it," he said sullenly, wanting it over and done with now. She shrugged and raised her eyebrows innocently. "Really? You've nothing to say about me bringing Natalie to live here?"

  "You're the alpha. You made that perfectly clear last night," Serena said. She was being too submissive, she must have something up her sleeve. "Speaking of last night, Holden is being cremated tonight. You'll be expected to make an appearance." Werewolves had odd customs. Even if somebody died in a mutiny they were still owed respect. Eric knew that taking a human for a partner was causing enough rifts so he couldn't afford to shirk another of their tradition. He'd go to the cremation but he wouldn't stay a second longer than he had to.

  "Alright. I'll be there."

  "Merle called. He's in Scotland. Thinks he's found a lead. He'll call again when he knows more."

  "What lead? What's in Scotland?" Eric asked. Merle should have called him directly, the alpha should not have to hear things through his mother. Not that Eric wanted to talk to him.

  "Nick's immortal. He's travelled the world. It stands to reason that someone in Scotland might no something. We should be thankful he found something so close to home. He might've ended up in Baghdad."

  "Shame he didn't," Eric muttered. He could think of nothing better than being able to send Merle to Baghdad.

  Serena beckoned for him to follow her through to the kitchen. Almost automatically he did so. "So, why has she come to stay?" she asked, and he could tell that there was resentment there but she was doing her best to cover it up.