by Greg Curtis
Beyond the Imperial Quarter there was only the half destroyed and mostly empty city. What few city guards there were didn't come anywhere near her and soon she could see the city limits.
Somewhere behind her she knew others would be saddling their horses, mounting up and preparing to give chase. But for the moment she was free and her riding mare was in the peak of condition. Meanwhile their mounts would still be reacting to the sound of the siren whistle. They would not be calmed easily. It would be some time before the soldiers could even began to give chase. And because it was night they wouldn’t be able to see who she was or which way she was heading. The advantage was hers.
That became even more true when she finally left the limits of the city and found herself on the road heading north. Soon there was no one in sight and she knew it was time to carry out the last part of her plan. Elan pulled on the reins and turned her horse to ride across the fields. It was night, those giving chase would never see the tracks, and they would probably not even think she might have left the road. It would be morning before they would be able to start tracking her.
Meanwhile she had a destination to reach. One that they would probably guess in time – when they realised that it was she who had escaped. Wynde Par.
Because that was where the accursed morph was. And even if everything else failed and she was finally caught and dragged back to the palace and to be hand-fasted to a man she didn’t want, she would make good on her vow and kill him first. There would be justice meted out for what he and his miserable kind had done to her family and her kingdom.
So she would hunt him down. She would interrogate him until he had told her everything he knew about the first morph who had destroyed her family. And then ultimately the morph's head would be separated from his shoulders by her blade.
Chapter Sixteen
The chamber was full for once as the Court debated the issues of the day. Though “debated” was a polite term for the shouting match it actually was Argen thought. The ten remaining members of the Court's inner circle – or rather, all that were both alive and fit enough to attend – were raising suggestions, only to have them immediately shot down, and would then shout down the others in turn. And this at barely eight bells in the morning? Argen could tell it was going to be a long day in the Court.
By the look of things it had already been a long night. The nobles of the Court looked tired. Lord Sternfell was rubbing at his face. Lord Peteron had collapsed into a chair on one side of the chamber and was holding his head in his hands. And Julius was on the other side of the chamber looking like death warmed up.
There was trouble in the kingdom obviously. There was no consensus in dealing with whatever the latest crisis was. There had been no consensus on anything since the attack. And the situation was only growing worse. The city was paying the price for that.
Hundreds of thousands of people – nearly two thirds of the residents of Abysynth – had left. And not one of these nobles had been prepared for that. Not a single one of them. The Court had accepted that they had made a mistake in keeping the Imperial Quarter closed off for far too long – almost certainly in fact though they argued about it constantly. What they found hard to understand was that so many people had left. But then the nobles who comprised the Court's inner circle didn’t seem to understand that the people had left because the Court had offered nothing to keep them here. Maybe the nobles would never fully understand that.
Nobles and Lords of the realm always had something remaining no matter how much they lost. That was the thing the nobles didn't fully appreciate. They might have lost family and homes and businesses like everyone else, they might have suffered, but they had had a lot to begin with. And they had names. Status and position. If their homes had burnt down they could rebuild them. If their businesses were failing they could return them to health in time. If they had lost wives, they could find new ones. Women would come to them no matter how old they were simply because of their titles and wealth. Dead heirs could be replaced. They would have more children by new wives and their line would continue. For the nobles this attack had been a disaster. A tragedy. But they had a future regardless. Unless the entire noble house had been destroyed, they had hope.
Others weren't so fortunate. When commoners lost their homes they couldn't simply turn around and build another. If they lost their work, they didn't have enough wealth sitting with the bankers to tide them over. They would starve.
Trying to explain that to them however, was like trying to teach a cat about the value of wearing shoes. They simply didn't understand.
This morning though there was clearly some other problem vexing them. Argen presumed it had something to do with the attack that had occurred during the night. He wasn't sure what had happened exactly – he had only heard the commotion from the temple as he slept – but he guessed it was serious.
“My Lords.” Argen walked calmly across the room, trying to ignore the chaos in front of him and hoping he would be able to leave it all behind him shortly. “You wished to see me?”
“Indeed Father Argen,” Lord Sternfell greeted him.
At least Argen thought, he'd used his correct title and name this time. But he doubted somehow that that was a good thing. In fact, from the look on his face and those on the faces of the rest he doubted there was anything good to come from his being summoned here.
“We wished to know how your investigation progresses.”
“It goes well my Lords. I have now confirmed that the morph Briagh of the Docks is in no way responsible for the fate of the Royal family. He has not been in the city long enough, does not have the shape of a wolf, and is not old enough. Moreover, I found no sign that he followed Morphia. Her sigil is nowhere to be found in his home. I informed the Princess of that yesterday, though she seemed to disagree.” Still, he hoped the Court would reinforce that point to her. She was angry and he feared where that anger would take her.
“I have also obtained Master Barachalla's private journal in which he detailed his thoughts on what happened. And though he was not present at the time of the experimnt, he wrote that he supplied the globe to King Harold the Good personally on that fateful day, hiding the taking of the globe from the arcanists. He also wrote that he returned it after the experiment went awry, and noted in his journal that no one had noticed its absence.”
“In his journal Master Barachalla speculates on what happened. How it went wrong if not why. The morph, a man known as Endorian Long was a prisoner. He had been arrested for brawling and drunkenness on several occasions. He was discovered to be a morph only when he tried to escape. He had three forms. A large grey timber wolf, a golden hind and a hawk. The king offered him a pardon and some gold if he participated in the experiment that led to the Royal Family’s curse. He did so, but not completely willingly, and that may have been a part of what went wrong.”
“The reports of the tragedy suggest that when Long fled from the palace, his form was unstable. He was neither man nor wolf, hind nor hawk. It seems that his magic had fractured in the experiment. It seems that while the royal family lost their minds, he lost his control.”
“So the royal family gained not the magic of the morph, but a tiny element of the minds of the animals they could never become. Their base instincts. And those thoughts corrupted their human thoughts. They became confused, unable to work out which they were. Creature or human. Meanwhile Long retained his human instincts and thoughts and his magic but lost the base instincts of the creatures he became. Without those animal instincts he was unable to control his magic.”
“The thing that struck Master Barachalla as most strange though was the queen, who gained an entirely new gift. One that the morph did not have. She learned to control the animals through her will. But having lost her mind and believing herself a wolf, the only animals she could control were other wolves.”
“Master Barachalla could only explain that in one way. Since none of those present had that gift, and the ancient device
depends on blood to operate, he believed that there must have been some blood left within the device itself. Ancient blood. It had not been thoroughly cleaned before use.”
“So what does that mean?” Lord Sternfell let out a slightly exasperated sigh. “Is there any hope that the princes will be returned to their right minds?”
“Some my lord. If we have the globe and Endorian Long, there is some hope.” It was what he was most pleased about. For the longest time he hadn't thought there was much hope at all. In fact, to even speak of it felt like lying. But with Master Barachalla's journal he had discovered a little more. Of course getting the globe back from the wolf mother was going to be difficult to say the least. And then there was the problem of tracking down the morph, a man who hadn't been seen in ten years. Though on that Argen did have an idea of where to look for a morph trapped in between forms.
According to all the reports the man had looked neither human nor creature at the end. People would have feared him. They would have taken one look at him and run screaming. And morphs were already feared. Human realms like Abylon were dangerous for them. But the fae realms might be safer. So if he had to guess Argen would have said that Long had run to either Wynde Par or Vellary Fell – the two closest fae realms. If he still lived he would be found there.
“Praise the gods!” One of the lords exclaimed.
Argen was somewhat taken aback by the sound of unexpected relief in the Lord’s voice. He would have expected happiness at his news. But relief? The royal family had been incapacitated for ten long years. The time for both worry and relief had surely long since passed?
“You should know my Lords that there is no certainty in this. With Master Barachalla's journal now being studied by my fellow priests and a few trusted arcanists and scientists, there is hope that the process may be reversed. But even if it works it is unclear how much damage may have been done to the minds of the princes in the intervening years. They may never regain all their wits.”
“And while I believe that Long will have fled to one of the nearest fae realms, I cannot know whether he would have been accepted there or was killed. He may equally have been forced to move on. Finding him if he still lives will not be easy. As for finding the ancient globe, that may be harder again.”
“And you should know Priest, we no longer have a choice. As of the early hours of this morning the Kingdom of Abylon has no ruler and no prospect of finding one. The Princess has run away.”
“Run away?” Argen was shocked by that. Elan had many faults, and it appeared that they were more than he had realised. But a lack of a sense of duty was not one of them. It had never been her weakness. So why now? “Why?”
“She took exception to the husband we chose for her.” Lord Sternfell looked Argen straight in the eyes as he said it. But the other nobles looked away.
“You chose a new husband for her?” Argen knew it had to be a new one, because she had resigned herself to the selection she had been provided with previously.
“Prince Vel Moran.”
“Praise be!” Argen was shocked. More than shocked; he was appalled. He couldn't believe that they had chosen the barbarian as their future king. That was madness! Poppy dreams! But then again he thought as he stared at them and witnessed the shame many of them obviously felt, maybe it was desperation.
“The king is dead. The rumours of his death grow despite our attempts to squash them. Word of the princes' incapacity to rule has also escaped. Now the Greater Court has demanded a full hearing on the matter. They demand to see the King. The want to confirm that he still lives. They are also demanding to see the princes as well and to hear them speak. They have given us a time-frame of one month. We must have a king before then.”
No wonder they were desperate! All their secrets were about to be exposed, including the way that they had kept the entire kingdom in the dark about the King's condition for ten long years. Should the truth came out and there be no new king in residence, the kingdom would be plunged into chaos. The inner circle of the Court was united in their desire to keep the kingdom running. But the Greater Court was not so united. How could it be when it consisted not just of the heads of the fifteen noble houses, but hundreds of others, many of whom had bought their peerages and would be looking to gain an advantage? Some would see opportunity in a kingdom without rulers. But that still didn't explain the Court's appalling choice of husband. Of king.
“And the barbarian Prince?”
“He brings wealth, an army and the rule of law. He could stop the dissent and finally kill the wolf mother.”
“Barbarian law!” Argen was unimpressed by the logic. He was also starting to see why the Princess had fled.
“Our law. We could have controlled him.”
“By the Sage you could not!” Argen saw the sickness in the man's eyes and knew he was lying. He was simply trying to justify what he had done.
“Vel Moran would slaughter you all on the first day he took the throne. He would slaughter the princes too. He tolerates no other voice save his own. After that, he would set about destroying the kingdom and rebuilding it in his own image. It would become a barbarian kingdom.”
But even as he said it Argen had to ask himself if he was in part reacting as strongly as he was because he too would have had his head on the barbarian's chopping block. The Prince did not tolerate the priests of any god save his own; Hed – the Lord of Wrath. He too had just been given a death sentence by the Court's inner circle.
“And the wolf mother would kill us too!” Lord Sternfell responded angrily. “Sooner! Already she grows in strength once more. The white dire wolves gather in the sewers. And we are weaker. We cannot withstand another attack.”
And there it was – the truth. The lords were frightened. Argen understood that. Especially when he knew that they had already lost so much. And he too had heard rumours that the wolf mother was once more growing in strength. That the snow white dire wolves that had attacked the refugees fleeing the city had actually been heading to Abysynth. But was it worse than he had heard? Were they so frightened of the wolf mother that they were seriously considering pitting a second even more ruthless enemy against her? And if so what did they do after it was over and they had to deal with whoever won?
Argen didn't respond to the Lord's claim. He didn't know how to. Instead he remained standing and waited for whatever was coming. He was sure he hadn't been called here first thing in the morning simply so he could be told what had happened overnight.
“Given what you've said Father Argen, it seems you have work to do. We will find the globe. You will find the morph. Your fellow priests and technologists will have to master the workings of the ancient device. And we have at best two months to do it in.”
“Two months?”
“Two months,” Lord Sternfell confirmed. “The proposal of hand-fasting was sent to the barbarian Prince yesterday. Now there can be no hand-fasting and we will have to try and rescind it. But if we fail he will be here with an army in one to two months demanding a bride to hand-fast. We will delay him as long as we can. Our war masters tell us that the wolf mother's army grows strong enough that she will attack again in at most two months. And while the Greater Court has given us one month to produce the king or his heirs, we think we can stall them. But only for so long.”
“Time grows short.”
“For us all.” Argen had to agree with the lord on that at least. “I will head immediately for Wynde Par, and will make arrangements for another party to leave for Vellary Fell. If Endorian Long is to be found alive we will find him and bring him back with us within two months. In the meantime, my fellow priests will work with the papers and journals we have to uncover the mystery of the globe. I will pray that you will find the globe.”
With that Argen nodded politely, turned and left. But as he walked out of the chamber he found himself wondering how things could have gone so wrong? These were supposed to be some of the most capable men in the kingdom, and they had maintained
a fiction for ten years. Now, right at the end, just when they had a hope of getting a new king, everything fell apart? That was either horrible bad luck or there was something he wasn't seeing.
He feared it was the latter. But then he was a priest of the Great Sage. Ignorance and stupidity were always his enemies.
Chapter Seventeen
Briagh looked out across a windswept terrace above a thousand-yard-high stone cliff. A portion of the terrace jutted out beyond the cliff face. On it sat a large stone altar overlooking a huge valley beyond that was filled as far as the eye could see with trees swathed in darkness. The sun was setting on the horizon, casting an orange and gold hue over the dark grey stone. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. He could see that a ceremony of some sort was taking place though he could make out nothing of the people or the words. There was a woman. No, not a woman; a presence. But still a female presence. A woman. A mother. Briagh knew that as he awoke.
He didn't understand anything about the dream. Certainly not what it meant. But it was powerful. Moving. He was thankful that it wasn't his usual nightmare. He had had enough of them lately. None of them as terrible as those he’d had in Abysynth, but all of them unsettling.
