Sons (Book 2)

by Scott V. Duff

  “Ha! A bell!” cried Bishop from the podium. “Somebody tack a druid on his ass!” My brothers erupted in laughter around him and I heard Gordon’s deep-chested laugh in there as well. We walked straight through the druids now that our cover was blown. I’d thought they’d change their tune about me before the day was out, but I didn’t think it would be such a radical change. And the murmuring of “Archdruid” was… unexpected. Why Hamish said that, I don’t know, but I saw how the information moved. The new head of Hilliard Brothers stood beside Bishop on the podium, Simon Lynton, along with his second and third. And there were three or four acolytes in the crowd that had been in the copse and a few druids who were around the sinks earlier. Gossip, faster than light, Einstein got it wrong.

  “Mr. Lynton,” I said hoarsely from the front base of the podium, “Would you mind standing up, please? You all look a little silly at the moment and you have work to do.”

  “Yes, Archdruid McClure,” Lynton said, smiling as he rose to his feet. He was of average height, but a broad man with a round face and bright blue eyes. He had the confidence and sense of power for the job, but lacked Davis’ overt honesty. Ryan exuded honesty–whether he was or not remained to be seen.

  “Didn’t you skip a few steps there, Seth?” Peter asked laughing lightly. “Don’t you at least have to be a druid first?”

  Davis snorted, scoffing. “More than that,” he muttered.

  Dropping the envelopes of rites and names onto my desk on Gilán, I plucked another Esteleum from my garden and munched away on it to soothe my battered throat. Then I looked around for a free table. Plenty of free space at tables, but none were actually free. I recognized about a third of the people here by sight from previous encounters, mostly public ones like the Arena, but some I met at Fuller’s party or saw at Grammand. Some of the rest I knew by reputation, like Arthur and Guinevere. But I didn’t know well over half the people here. I glanced up at Kieran and was about to ask when Jimmy beat me to it.

  “Ehran, do we have a table?” he asked from beside me.

  “You’re kiddin’ me, right?” Kieran said, grinning. He waved at Bishop. “He thinks you’re the greatest thing since buttered bread! He’s got us all up here like we’re going to do something.”

  “You’ve convinced him otherwise, right?” Jimmy asked as we walked around to the back of the podium. The pavilion had gotten eerily quiet since we’d entered. The druids weren’t the only ones enraptured by my presence and it was starting to freak me out.

  “We tried,” Ethan said, laughing at me and echoing the laugh through the anchor. “Then some idjit just had to perform some sort of High Magic on the premises and scared everybody. We had to tell them who the idjit was.”

  Every druid in earshot started bristling in anger at the insult, especially Lynton. Bishop leaned over to him and said quietly, “The McClure brothers have a very special relationship, Simon. They play hard together. Don’t get in the middle or you’ll get crushed.”

  “But ‘idjit’ sounds perilously close to ‘idiot’,” Lynton complained to Bishop in a whisper.

  “And Seth isn’t the slightest bit bothered by it,” Bishop said dismissively.

  “He’s right, Mr. Lynton,” I said taking my seat at the podium. “Besides, if Ethan actually meant to insult me, he would have chosen a more precise word than ‘idjit’.” Kieran sat down on my left with Ethan, then Peter on my right. We looked out at the expectant crowd of magic users and waited for Bishop to begin. He tried. He did. No one would give him attention for long. Even Kieran got aggravated at them.

  “Seth,” he said gently, without looking at me.

  “Yeah, I know,” I whined and pulled the envelope into my cavern, then turned to Bishop. “Sorry, Thomas, but I seem to be too much of a distraction.” I wrapped a portal around myself and jumped to a nice sunny spot on a hill. Pushing on my awareness to let Jimmy see me, I laid down in the grass and cloud-watched. At least for a few minutes, before I started multitasking and dropped down into my cavern.

  In the center sat the Pact atop the foundation Stone gleaming brilliantly in its own light. The Day and the Night Swords floated to the sides of the orb with each scabbard slightly behind them, like a lord and his knight. Lying as if tossed lazily aside at the base of the Stone were the Crossbow and Quarrel. This was my personal arsenal. It bonded to me—they liked me—for some unknowable reason. I didn’t complain. They’d saved my life on several occasions and have been incredibly useful as tools on others.

  Time to look at the Hilliards’ list. Picking up the envelope that was now sitting at my feet, I started to unwind the string on the clasp when I realized I already knew the contents. The moment I pulled it into my cavern, I knew. Moving away from the center, I held the envelope up and blew gently on the back. Pages shot out of the front at tremendous speed, whirling about as if caught in a wind tunnel. Once I stopped blowing, the pages started collecting under pictures of each man and woman the Hilliards reported. In some cases, they were actual photographs, but mostly the pictures were photocopied reductions of hand-drawings. The druids had some exquisite artists among them. Now I was going to have to find their pictures of us and steal them. And probably keep stealing them, now that I was an Archdruid.

  Now I had a wall of fifty-seven magicians who the Hilliards knew committed acts of blood rites. Their files were extensive on the history of these people, not that I trusted it. This was only a guide, a probability to index in some way. The pictures helped a lot. A few of them were actually here under other names. Aliases and multiple names weren’t unusual, from what I’ve learned, but it still makes me suspicious. Bringing up the information I gleaned from Sondre and adding what Kieran wrenched out of Dieter and her, I created a wall similar to the first. I cross-referenced the two and came up with a few more possibilities among the current population of the glen.

  “Ethan,” I called out mildly as I pushed the walls back and pulled the five files together.

  “It’s about time!” Ethan said, appearing in front of me. “I am so bored! And you’re going to have to make an appearance shortly. The druid is getting close to saying too much.” Multitasking again, I keyed into Jimmy’s mind and listened to what was said at the lectern. Lynton was explaining in very vaguely specific terms—that special language that only lawyers can speak—how the Hilliards challenged and lost a breach of the Accords. I had a few minutes before he might go over the line.

  “Don’t blame me! I didn’t ask to be stared at or I’d be there, too,” I said, then waved at the pictures. “I cross-referenced Sondre, Dieter, and the Hilliards’ information. These five are currently here.”

  “They don’t look too powerful from this,” he commented.

  “From this, no, but we don’t know what they’ve learned from other sources, like experimentation,” I reminded him. It was time to interrupt Simon. Tossing a Tower of Babel spell on him until I got there, I wrapped myself in a portal and jumped under the pavilion again. “That’s enough, Simon,” I said calmly, giving him back his capacity for communication. “It is enough that it is known a Breach occurred between Lord Bishop and the Hilliard Brothers and the matter has been attended to. Nothing else needs to be said.”

  A general rumble of discontent rolled across the tables under the tent like distant thunder. A Greek man near the front in center right stood and called for my attention, “Lord Daybreak!”

  “Yes, Mr. Milykos?” I asked, turning and adjusting Bishop’s acoustics to include the Greek speaker. He was the eldest son of the Greek attendant and was acting as his translator. The father didn’t need one as he spoke nine languages fluently. The younger Milykos was setting out to prove himself and Daddy was letting him have an international stage to play on.

  “Why do you set the limits on information? Much has happened here! A Breach of the Accords has occurred! As Signatories, we have the right know what has happened here!” Milykos challenged dramatically, his English perfect.

  “Would all the dru
ids and other security personnel please step outside the pavilion?” I asked loudly. As soon as the tent was clear of non-magicians, I raise a thin sheen of Gilán-blue energy. Steadying myself, I put my game face on and forced my countenance forward a little. Then I walked down the main aisle even with the Greeks and raised up with the Stone. “I, Mr. Milykos, am the Arbiter.”

  He cringed, visibly, but he was made of sterner stuff and he meant to show it. “So as Arbiter, you can change the provisions of the Arbitration as you wish, after the fact?”

  “Within the provisions of the main arguments and depending on the language, yes,” I said. “Did you not read what you signed?”

  “Yes, I read it!” Milykos objected strongly, offended by the guess. But his memory of signing rose quickly to the top of his mind and slipped out. He not only didn’t read it, it was one of eleven papers he signed in a stack that day and he barely acknowledged the oath. It definitely wasn’t the Unseelie Accords.

  “Tell me, Mr. Milykos, once a matter has been shown to be sufficiently important enough to warrant an arbitration on a Challenge and an Arbiter is selected by the challengee, what is the only possible outcome?”

  “There are several possibilities…” he started, confused.

  “That is incorrect,” I said. “That leads me to believe that not only have you not signed the Accords, you have not read them either. This seems to be a recurring issue. Someone should investigate why because I really don’t have the time.” Closing my eyes, I turned a quick circle, examining everyone in the room carefully to see who among them could wield the Oath of the Accords. Only my brothers held enough raw power, cascading through our kinship bond, however that had developed. “How many of you claim to be Signatories of the Accords?” Well over half raised their hands in answer. Thankfully, neither Bishop nor Gordon was among them. Unfortunately, Fuller was.

  “Thomas, you’ve recently suffered Arbitration as the challenged party,” I said, still turning slowly. “What is the only outcome once an Arbiter has accepted? And what is the proscribed penalty?”

  Bishop stood up solemnly and said, “The only outcome is a Breach of the Accords by one party and the only penalty is the destruction of the breaching party.”

  “That’s right,” I said brightly to the audience. “But you’ll notice that the Hilliards were not destroyed. I did not believe that the Hilliards’ crimes warranted the deaths of over four thousand people. The Arbiter has broad discretionary powers.”

  Milykos thought he had me on that and got excited. Hushed whispers behind abruptly erected privacy shields rose from the Greek table, then a few more tables as well. Then Milykos rose again. “Lord Daybreak, do these ‘broad discretionary powers’ including changing the provisions of the penalties?”

  “Depending on the main arguments and the language, yes,” I said, suitably surprising the Greek. He expected me to say no. “I have not yet done so.”

  “But you just stopped Lynton…” he objected, but I interrupted him.

  “From being destroyed by the Authority, yes, I know, I was here,” I said, getting more exasperated by their lack of understanding. “Let’s get past this, shall we?”

  A new voice entered the fray and I really wasn’t looking forward to this.

  “Pray, a moment, good Lord, but the rules do not work that way,” a gentle, avuncular voice permeated the pavilion. A brief flash of light down the aisle and a man appeared inside. He wore an ermine mantle and purple robes over beautifully wrought armor of silver over iron plating. A circlet of gold crowned his grayed head, adding to his obvious portrayal of a regal.

  “Arthur, I presume,” I said patiently.

  “I am he, yes,” he said, politely, bowing his head slightly then throwing back his robes to reveal more of his armor, including the impressive broadsword at his side, the reputed Excalibur. The Day and the Night both hummed in warning, but stayed in my cavern.

  “Arthur,” Bishop called out. “This is not a good time for this.” Looking quickly back at Bishop, I could see that Arthur was more an embarrassment than a problem. Gleaning the top thoughts from Arthur, I understood. The man was nutso-cuckoo. He actually thought he was the living embodiment of King Arthur from La Mort du Artu. He felt this was a very good time to assert himself and further his provenance.

  “I agree, Arthur,” I said calmly. “This will not help the cause of Camelot…”

  “That is not for the Fae to decide!” Arthur declared angrily, which just ticked me off. I pulled Daybreak back and faced Arthur.

  “I’m not Fae, you twit,” I said coldly. “But if you want to be the object lesson, fine. If you wish to know more, then simply call upon the Authority and review the Arbitration.”

  That gave him pause. “What?”

  “Call the Authority, Arthur,” I said. “Call upon the Oath of the Unseelie Accords to grant oversight and review the Arbitration. If you are a Signatory of the Accords, it is your right. You would know that if you had ever read them.”

  “I am a Signatory and have officiated many times against offenses of the Accords,” Arthur said haughtily, throwing his shoulders back and clanking loudly in his armor.

  “Do you wear that crap everywhere?” I asked sarcastically. I hadn’t felt the pull of magic that would have foreshadowed him either dispelling a cloak or armoring himself. “And there haven’t been ‘many’ breaches. This was the first in several centuries. You must be speaking of Hospitality.”

  “You seek to belittle me, little wizard,” Arthur said, low and angry. His hand went to his sword as he spoke. Checking his aura, I saw several small tendrils of energy flickering around him, poking and prodding him, then retracting quickly. He was being manipulated, pushed into arguing with me and he was just nuts enough not to see it. Tracing the tendrils back to their owners, I found most of them were just looking for a scapegoat. Everyone wanted more information and they were using Arthur to try for it, but two of my five suspected blood mages were also prodding him. This would end poorly if I let myself be led.

  “No, Willis Hugh, I don’t think that mental instability is something to make fun of,” I said sadly, using the wizard’s real name. It was the first time someone had used his name in over a century and as is the way with all true things, it had an effect on him. His guise cracked, just a little.

  “Do not try your foul Fey tricks on me, Modred!” he cried, drawing Excalibur and rushing down the aisle at me. I seized the tendrils of those that poked Arthur this time and sent a strong and burning energy back along those lines. Eight different magicians screamed in pain before Arthur made three steps, three of my five among them.

  Arthur was fast for a human but he had to make twelve strides to get to me. I waited in relative stillness, watching him run in his clunky armor. On his ninth stride he pulled his sword arm back to thrust, drawing in strength on his tenth and thrusting forward on his eleventh. On his twelfth, what should have been his killing strike, I batted the blade aside, grabbed the hilt of the sword and wrenched it free from his hand. For an instant, I thought I held the Day in my hand, but I knew better. It changed quickly in form back to Excalibur. I stepped forward and out of Willis Hugh’s path as he stumbled over my pedestal. His body twisting to follow the path of his stolen sword. His face was aghast in horror and shock that I’d taken his toy so easily.

  Moving further down the aisle, I examined Excalibur slowly in the light as Willis fought to regain his feet. Not an easy task in full mail and body armor without help from a knave or porter. It was certainly laden with enough magic to be that sword, but it was not Excalibur. My vision warred with the enchantments as I peered deeper into the sword’s magic, but it finally resolved into its true self: a long wooden plank, sharpened to look like a sword, with a simple cross-guard tied with a hemp cord. Since that was the belief I held of the sword and as I now held command of it, that was the aspect it took in full view of all the spectators.

  “You’ve been duped, Willis,” I said, peeling the enchantments off the w
ood and feeding them to the Night in my cavern. “This is no more Excalibur than you are Arthur. And I have it on good authority that Modred is dead and the Morgana destroyed.” I dropped the useless vessel on the ground and turned back to Willis Hugh.

  “I’m definitely beginning to see Ferrin’s point here, though,” I said, looking at the man losing his grip on his sanity as he stared at his lost sword. “I stand here before the combined might of this realm’s mightiest wizards, all of you far better trained than I, and you cower behind the delusions of a lunatic. You’re so arrogant in your perfection and enraptured in your own little worlds that you rarely venture outside of them. It’s no wonder we’re losing this war and it’s no wonder the lesser magical world despises you so much. Hell, you haven’t even bothered to learn the treaties that protect you from being destroyed by every dragon that pierces its egg.”

  Okay, they’d pissed me off and I was showing it. Humanly, though, I was pulling my punches since I already had their attention so strongly. It helped to keep my brothers calm and collected, not having to worry about me. That was about to change, but it wasn’t my magic that I was about to toss about, exactly. Jimmy and Peter left the front podium and trotted down the main aisle to Willis. They hefted him to his feet and started easing him away, gently murmuring platitudes to calm his injured mind.

  “Some facts are in order, ladies and gentlemen,” I said imperiously. “First, there is a vast difference between the Accords and Hospitality. Second, I am not a teacher, learn them yourselves. Supposedly you already have.” I pulled my copy of the Accords from its hiding place and held the scroll aloft. Pulling the ancient vellum down, the Oath was clearly visible along with the two Elven sigils of Seelie and Unseelie. There were other signatures on the document, masked by their own power and better left unsaid and unseen.