A Foolish Wind: The Oak Knower Chronicles (The Druids, Dragons and Demons Series Book 1)

by Andy Roberts

  Gendrick folded his hands and rested them on a knee. ‘You’ll do anything I tell you.’ Snake brought the orbrilt and lay it between the two of them. ‘Show.’ The globe cleared to reveal a close-up view of a man’s face, his weary eyes as red nearly as the beard clenched in a tight fist.

  ‘Griff.’ Brae kicked out in a fit of temper but Gendrick slipped out of reach with relative ease.

  ‘I see you’re well enough to be taken to your quarters.’ The minister nodded at Snake. ‘Get them both out of here.’

  ‘I’m no substitute for the druid.’ Philly paced in Milda’s kitchen, arms folded, head low. ‘Besides, I haven’t practised for a long, long time.’

  ‘You said you owed me.’ Griff stood with both palms placed flat on the table. ‘Well I’m callin’ in that debt right now, so I am.’

  ‘What you’re asking of me is—’

  The innkeeper slammed his fist against the table and fought to keep it at that. ‘I said I’m callin’ it now.’

  Milda laid a hand on Philly’s shoulder to keep her still. ‘Won’t you even try?’

  Madoc reached for his pipe and loaded its bowl. ‘That’s all we’re askin’ of you.’

  Philly chewed her lip, agonising over her dilemma. ‘I’m just a seer. Nothing more than that.’

  ‘Well, that’s somethin’ at least.’ The farmer thumbed his igniter and went through his ritual of starting with three, large smoke rings. ‘Sit yourself down, why don’t you and get this thing goin’.’

  Philly took a deep breath and stared at a dirty mark on the floor. ‘It’s not quite as easy as that,’ she said. ‘You see, I haven’t yet told you all there is to know about me.’

  Chapter

  — 26 —

  The soldiers recounted the tale of their chase, Nolaan, Gelfroy and Tarunkeep listening carefully to their every word. The Meeting Room was lit by high windows set in three of its four walls, the one at the far end of the room giving sight of a small and private garden. A white-energy lamp stood at the centre of their circular table, its charging mechanism humming as the wire brush kept contact with the off-centre, rotating wheel.

  The commander was stewed after a brief catnap and keen to report to the king everything they knew so far. ‘You have an orbrilt available?’ he asked when at last there was silence.

  ‘Perhaps I could persuade you otherwise?’ Tarunkeep stood and went to the door, though the simple act took him a while.

  Nolaan’s eyes followed the bishop’s crosier. ‘Using that?’ he asked irritably. ‘My time here is spent.’ He pushed his chair away from the table and stood to leave, his men falling into rank close behind him.

  Gelfroy remained in his seat. ‘Ten minutes is all we ask, Commander, and then you’ll get your orbrilt and anything else you require.’

  ‘It was a terrible affair, sir.’ The greensleeve stood before them with his head bowed, clearly troubled still with the raw memories of Parondor Keep. ‘The minister had hung and mutilated several citizens—even let a devil-dog feed on their rotting corpses.’

  Nolaan shook his head. ‘That’s of no interest to the king.’

  ‘The dungeon,’ Gelfroy said quickly. ‘Tell the commander what you found there.’

  ‘Well it was Elba Doss, sir. Beaten all shades of black and blue.’

  ‘Our custodian of records at the city library,’ Gelfroy explained. ‘And was a model citizen by all accounts.’

  ‘Was?’

  The greensleeve removed his cap. He rolled into a baton and held it in both hands, in front of him. ‘Died on the way back to the Senate, sir.’

  Gelfroy cut in again. ‘But not before he told all, Commander. It seems there was a binding involving the emissary and custodian. When Elam Goust took his poisoned liqueur, Elba Doss succumbed to the same terrible fate.’

  Nolaan’s attention switched from Gelfroy to the guard. ‘And just what did the custodian tell you before his death?’

  The greensleeve looked to the chancellor and saw him nod. ‘That the minister has commissioned a ship and crew to take him to Ocantis.’

  Nolaan turned. ‘Ocantis?’

  The guard dropped his hat and made no attempt to retrieve it. ‘To raise the Dragon Lord, sir.’

  It was Tarunkeep’s turn to interject before the commander could protest. ‘You see, the murder of Prince Robut was meant to have us so preoccupied with conflict, that we wouldn’t even notice.’

  Gelfroy nodded deeply. ‘This wasn’t an attack on Thresk or its royal family, in fact, it could have been any one of a dozen or more foreign dignitaries—its purpose was merely to blindside us.’

  ‘I need proof,’ Nolaan told them. ‘The king will demand it.’

  ‘There is nothing,’ Gelfroy said. ‘Gendrick covered his tracks very well.’

  Tarunkeep tapped his crosier. ‘Your own men report a ship on the strait—a vessel that is believed to be harbouring the fugitive.’

  ‘That’s right.’ The chancellor’s eyes widened. ‘Why wouldn’t he be halfway across the Wandering Depths by now, if it wasn’t Ocantis he sought?’

  ‘I’ll have the orbrilt now, Chancellor.’

  Gelfroy raised a hand. ‘There’s one more thing you need to know. The druid is here in Randor and it’s rumoured he’s come to kill the Dragon Lord.’

  ‘And you never thought to tell us before now?’ Griff couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

  Philly shrugged. ‘What difference would it have made?’

  The innkeeper was angrier than Madoc had seen him in a long while. ‘How can you know it wasn’t the Salamanders who did this?’

  ‘It couldn’t be,’ Philly assured him. ‘They’re only interested in me.’

  ‘They’re assassins.’ Griff pulled at his beard. ‘They’ll kill anyone who gets in their way, so they will.’

  Philly buried her head in her hands. ‘I wasn’t hiding the truth when I told Madame Zeste I don’t practice.’ She was tired, her body aching with the physical and emotional assault of the previous few days. ‘As long as I don’t use my gift, then I’m invisible to them. What you’re asking will light me up brighter than any star in the night sky.’ She dropped her hands into her lap and picked at several cracked nails in turn. ‘I promise you, I didn’t see anything that could have warned us about your family.’

  Griff was livid. ‘That may be, but the way I see it, we’re all gonna die if we don’t stop Vaspar Gendrick. And by my reckonin’, that makes your fate no different to anyone else’s.’

  Madoc tapped his pipe out onto a small saucer. ‘And just why were the Salamanders after you in the first place?’

  Philly held her head high and spoke without hindrance of emotion. ‘Because I killed one of them.’

  ‘The king will give you one week,’ Nolaan said returning the orbrilt to the chancellor. ‘After that, a declaration of war will be passed.’

  ‘A week?’

  ‘Not a day longer.’

  Gelfroy followed after the commander. ‘Where are you going?’ Even with a height advantage over the soldier, he had to run almost in order to keep up.

  ‘To find the druid. And by the time I return, you’ll have a ship and crew waiting at the dock.’

  Chapter

  — 27 —

  The Gods loomed ahead and Gendrick stood at the foot of the fore mast, marvelling at the awe-inspiring spectacle. He was on his way at last to raise the Dragon Lord and no-one could stop him. The crew of the Raven were silent, icicles that were as long as a leg hanging from the rigging high above their heads. ‘Stand with me,’ he called to his bodyguard as they entered the narrow channel. The surface of the water was as flat as a city road, yet the Raven tilted side-to-side, unsettling men and equipment easily. The sea in the strait was a foreboding shade of black and if legend was to be believed, then it was also bottomless.

  ‘The Gods are weighing our mettle.’ Giblin gripped the ship’s wheel, tugging it port and then starboard in a series of jerky movements. ‘Pray they don’t
find us wanting.’ Gendrick wasn’t listening, he was circling snow-topped mountain peaks again, this time flying on the back of an enormous dragon.

  Lodan was first to cast an appraising eye over their approaching vessel, licking the air with the tip of his serpent’s tongue. The charred earth beneath his feet smoldered with the crackling sound of grass fire, the surrounding air rank with the pungent stink of sulphur. Gendrick didn’t notice the smell, was oblivious to just how close they were to the steaming water that bubbled all around the devil’s island.

  Amaethon watched in silence from his own side of the strait, the Scroll of Precepts clutched tightly in the fist of his left hand. For a moment, the deity looked as though he might preach to them, but must have considered all aboard the Raven to be well beyond saving, for he remained completely still and let them pass.

  Windsong soared high above no-man’s-land, following the road from Randor to Thresk, searching for a master that still believed her to be lost. Though the landscape was barren and the road empty, she knew he’d journeyed this way—could smell his scent on the air. In the far distance to the left, she saw the dark expanse of the Wandering Depths, and to her right, the ice-capped summit of the Crystal Mountains. She circled, her attention taken by a horse grazing at the side of the road. She descended and made her way towards it, the aura of her druid not yet fully gone.

  ‘You must be gifted?’ The healer cleaned the paraphernalia of his trade and tidied them away neatly in a small, leather case. Gendrick and the others were still above deck, leaving the two of them sat alone in their small cabin.

  Brae prodded his bruised arm. Everything had happened in such a blur that he wasn’t quite sure who or what he was. ‘I’m of Alu,’ he said after giving it some thought. It still felt odd and he wasn’t at all sure that he wouldn’t soon wake up from the oddest of dreams.

  ‘Druid blood? Can’t say I’ve had any of that on my hands before now.’

  ‘Well that’s good to know.’ Brae caught the healer’s eye and held it still. ‘Why are you helpin’ them?’

  The healer gave him space and pushed his things under the double-height bunk. ‘I’m just like you—not a druid or gifted for that matter—but they took me off the street all the same.’

  ‘Don’t suppose they murdered your family though?’ Brae used an outstretched hand to steady himself as the ship listed to one side. The healer didn’t answer, unable to think of anything worthy of saying. ‘Just my brother left now.’

  ‘Well that’s something at least.’

  Brae thought about it and nodded. ‘I know that smell,’ he said suddenly and took the ladder to the upper bunk.

  ‘Hey, that’s my bed.’

  ‘Just give me a minute.’ He put his face to the cold glass of the porthole and craned his neck in every direction. ‘They’re really doin’ it—takin’ us through the strait, so they are.’

  The healer pulled at Brae’s ankle. ‘Let me see.’

  Outside, the colossal figure of Lodan loomed over them, dwarfing a ship that was large enough to carry more than two hundred men in times of war. Brae’s face took on an orange glow, reflecting the molten rock that bubbled so close to the Raven’s hull. The sensation of heat on his skin brought with it raw memories and moist eyes. ‘We’re through,’ he said turning away.

  ‘It’s not the outward journey that’s the problem.’ The healer helped him down from the upper bunk. ‘Some would say that we’re now officially dead.’

  ‘You look as though a trouble weighs heavily upon you.’ The monk walked almost silently along the nave and had come upon him without warning. ‘And you would hide your identity in the House of Amaethon?’

  Tamulan lowered his hood and felt the eyes of the holy-man run the full length of each scar in turn. ‘I’ll not harm you.’

  ‘I fear not for my own well being,’ the monk said, ‘though your presence here would suggest that all is not well.’ He took a seat on the long pew and straightened his habit beneath him, a muffled silence offering ample opportunity for reflection.

  ‘Can a man truly right a wrong?’ The druid bent forward, his hands clasped between open knees.

  The monk looked towards a forest of votive candles. ‘If he has the will and the heart, then the light will always show the way.’

  ‘And if that wrong is allowed to repeat itself, what then?’ Tamulan kept his eyes on the cracks in the floor. He’d known the fate of most at the inn as soon as he’d realised that the boy had spoken with the Foolish Wind. What he hadn’t known, was how soon the dark side would come to claim them.

  ‘Then the light will burn ever-brighter for that man,’ the monk told him. Tamulan stood and passed through the narrow space between the pews. ‘Be careful,’ the monk called after him. ‘And forget not, that in the place you seek, the wind is more than capable of extinguishing that light.’

  Tamulan stopped, though only to remove a small tin from his hip pocket. Ahead was a high archway that framed two large, oak doors. He raised his hood and with a deep sniff, stepped out of the darkness and into the light.

  The healer’s name was Farrel. ‘I straightened your nose when you were asleep.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Brae felt it and winced. ‘I suppose?’

  ‘Well it will hurt for a while yet,’ Farrel told him. ‘The minister had my poppy juice confiscated.’

  Brae let his nose be. ‘You’re young for a healer,’ he said. ‘Which of the houses employ you?’

  Farrel gave a chortle. ‘The professors will likely banish me when word of this gets out.’

  ‘You don’t have a hat and scroll yet?’ Brae put a finger to his nose again and checked that the student hadn’t made a mess of things.

  ‘Another summer,’ Farrel sighed. ‘Not that it matters now of course.’ He turned to face the small window and saw only sky.

  Brae looked the healer up and down and decided that he didn’t look altogether different from himself. He spoke a little better perhaps? He was happy to concede that point. ‘What’s it like—university I mean?’

  Farrel ducked under the bed and came up clutching a chunk of bread. ‘Have you never been?’ he asked wiping crumbs from his shirt.

  ‘I’m not stupid,’ Brae answered defensively.

  ‘And who said that you were?’ The healer tore the loaf in two halves and handed one to Brae.

  ‘A smithy’s apprentice, so I am.’ He swallowed hard. ‘Was.’

  ‘My career’s finished too. Ended before it ever properly got started.’

  Brae tossed his uneaten bread onto the bed. ‘Not much to go back for,’ truth be told. ‘Except for Griff that is.’

  ‘I had brothers once.’ Farrel chewed more slowly, as though he couldn’t quite manage the act of mastication and thinking all at the same time.

  ‘Once?’

  ‘I was barely nine summers old when it happened. Both went off to war and neither came back. Broke my poor mother’s heart. Quite literally in fact.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Farrel acknowledged the comment with the slightest of nods. ‘Are you going to do what they ask of you?’

  ‘I’m gonna make them think I am,’ Brae told him. ‘And when the moment comes, I’ll kill Vaspar Gendrick.’

  Chapter

  — 28 —

  Griff had begrudgingly agreed to rest until first light, a day of digging doing nothing to help heal his blistered foot. He hadn’t expected Philly to stay: thought she might run, just as the druid had. But when he awoke just after sunrise, she was sat waiting at the kitchen table.

  Madoc came in from the outside, kicking the worst of the snow from his boots before entering. ‘Thought you could do with a new one,’ he said setting the crutch down next to the innkeeper.

  Griff took the heel end and swung it sword-play fashion. ‘Feels about right.’ He turned it over and shook the shoulder-rest next to his ear.

  ‘Same amount of lead shot as I put in the last one,’ the farmer told him. ‘Packed it good and tight, so I
did.’

  ‘Thanks, Madoc.’ Griff stood and extended a hand. ‘For everythin’.’

  ‘Done nuthin’ that you wouldn’t do for me under similar circumstances.’

  ‘All the same.’

  ‘So how do we go about gettin’ you a ship?’ Madoc asked before sentiment managed to get the better of his friend. ‘I don’t know many sea captains who’d entertain such a voyage.’

  ‘And how ever will you pay for it?’ Milda asked stopping to wipe at the window with a dishcloth. She moved to the one nearer the back door and rubbed again.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Madoc left the table and made his way towards her.

  ‘There’s someone comin’ up the path, so there is.’

  The farmer pushed his face tight against the glass, the thin pane cold against his forehead. ‘It’s Rhilf’s boy, Cali.'

  ‘And he sure is in a rush.’ Milda opened the door to greet him.

  Neither had slept much overnight, Brae unable to chase the awful images of the inn from his mind, and Farrel disturbed by the whimpering sounds coming from the bunk beneath him.

  ‘How long do you think it takes to get there?’ The healer sat on the edge of his bed rubbing his eyes, knees wedged tight against the panelled wall, head stuck against the low ceiling.

  Brae lay there staring at the deep bow in the mattress above him. ‘Who knows, a few days maybe?’

  ‘Aren’t you worried that we’ll get there long before the druid?’ Farrel lowered himself from the bunk and stood over him. ‘We’re already more than a day ahead at the very least.’

  ‘Not really,’ Brae said rolling onto his side and propping himself up on an elbow. ‘Been dealin’ with that all night, so I have.’