Heirs of the Demon King: Uprising (8 page)

She stalked Tudor’s magi and she killed them. She turned their magic against them. The more potent the magic, the more terrible the destruction. Had they but known the danger...

It was, quite simply, horrific. His eyes remained glued to the scene whilst Wyn’s words continued in his mind.

She walked unseen on the battlefield, but all felt her presence. King Richard the Third, who sullied his family name with demonic blood, grew in strength even as Tudor’s armies failed. He loved her for the power she gave him, and yet he was afraid.

Mathias watched her in horrid fascination. He could understand the dichotomy. Her beauty was unsurpassed and yet she was somehow completely repulsive. She appeared fair, yet her presence invoked revulsion.

Richard bought his success that day and gave power to this creature even as she gave power to him, but the price was unspeakable. For as you know, Mathias, all things must have balance. For every action, there must be an opposite. Without balance, the world...

...falls into chaos.
Mathias nodded. The lesson that had been one of the first he had learned, coming to his lips as easily as breathing. He watched the demon winding her way through the battlefield.
But why are you showing me this now
?

Because you need to understand what is to come,
Wyn’s voice boomed.
Richard bought his victory with blood, but that was not all. He tainted the royal bloodline, and that taint has only grown stronger with each generation. Melusine is no petty spirit who barters for favours, she is a great power that seeks to enter the world of men and claim it as her own.

But if what you’re showing me is true, she entered our world at Bosworth Field, didn’t she?

No, she did not. What you see here is just a hollow shade of the demon Melusine.
Mathias sensed a certain frustration in Wyn, as if the old man needed him to understand more but lacked the time to explain.
However, a time is coming when she will be able to enter our world, and the King will lament the day his ancestors made this dark pact.

I still don’t understand what this has got to do with me.

The scene of battle dissolved just as Tudor’s defeated forces were attempting to flee the field, pursued by Richard and his army. This time Mathias was standing on a small patch of dark earth surrounded on all sides by black, glistening rock. The circle of sky above was a smear of unfamiliar stars and deep, rich blue. A female figure was silhouetted in the glassy surface in front of him, its exaggerated femininity revealing who it was that lurked beyond, or within, the peculiar surface.

Few outside the line of kings know this secret. The reach of the Inquisition is long and their methods ruthless. Melusine has given Richard the tools and knowledge to hunt down those who know the truth.

The presence within the stone pushed forward, swimming into terrible focus. A doll-like visage with smoulderingly dark eyes and rosebud lips that pouted beautifully at him. She ran a perfectly pink tongue over those lips, revealing tiny fangs beaded with blood.

I am old, lad.
Wyn’s strong voice had dropped to an anguished whisper.
All these long years I have turned my magic to hiding. Keeping myself, these people and this village as safe as I can.
There was a long pause.
Keeping you hidden. But I am old.

The glassy rock parted like liquid, revealing the pale visage of Melusine. Her scent poured into the little space: jasmine, honey, blood, iron. This close, she was overpowering, and Mathias knew that had this been more than an illusion, he would have been lost in moments. Soft skin, moist flesh, the taste of bile, flowing silk, the touch of a blade. A wave of agonising, conflicting sensations washed over him.

She has found me.

Mercifully, the illusion melted away. Mathias became slowly aware that he was in Wyn’s house, sitting on the floor by the fire. He was trembling and sweating and absently noticed that he had spilled his tea. He glanced up and over at the white-haired man he considered a father. Wyn’s head was drooping to his chest in weariness. Without being asked, Mathias crossed to the fire and poured another mug of the rejuvenating brew. He pressed it into Wyn’s hands without comment and the old man nodded his thanks.

A silence passed between the two men. Wyn was regaining his composure and Mathias was too shaken by far to intrude on his thoughts. Eventually, the old man raised his head once more and a sad smile flickered onto his face.

‘I had hoped for more time,’ he said. ‘I had too much faith in my own power and wanted to spare you this knowledge as long as possible. I have... been remiss. There is so much that I have not told you. So much that I
should
have told you.’

‘I do not understand, Wyn.’

‘No. You don’t. And that is my fault. The truth of the matter is that Melusine’s pact, seeded with Richard all those years ago, is on the cusp of bearing fruit. Evil comes to this world, my boy. Real evil, the likes of which man cannot begin to understand. It has to be stopped.’

Mathias laughed without humour. ‘You are surely not expecting me to... don’t be silly, old man. I am not some kind of great warrior or magus...’

Wyn shook his head.

‘You are a quiet champion, my boy. The most worthy kind.’ When Mathias simply looked confused, Wyn patted the boy’s shoulder with great affection. ‘I have great power. You know that now. But I am old. Too old now to protect you from what is coming. I chose you a long time ago, for a reason, but we must act fast. Now that Melusine has found me, the Inquisition will be coming.’

‘But...’ Mathias saw the expression on Wyn’s face and knew that asking any further questions at this point would be a waste of time.

Hampton Court

England

‘R
ICHARD, WAKE UP
.’

Anna shook him vigorously, and as the King’s eyes opened, he reached out as though he would claw at her face. She ducked his attack and held her distance until her husband’s senses restored themselves. He gasped loudly and sat upright. Sweat rolled from him in steady rivulets.

‘Another dream?’ Her voice was filled with genuine concern and sympathy. She reached over and stroked back a lock of greying hair that had fallen into his eyes. He slapped her hand irritably and nodded.

Still the King did not speak. The dream had been too personal to share. He stared at his wife for long moments, then waved a hand. ‘Bring me wine,’ he ordered. When she didn’t move straight away, his imperious tone became something entirely more demanding. ‘Go! Now! And send for the seer. I must speak with him.’

‘The seer?’ The distaste in Anna’s voice made Richard look at her sharply. He knew that she, like many of the nobility, thought it deeply hypocritical that the King should keep a magus in the employ of the court. But he did not care to listen to whispers of accusation. Josef was little more than a madman, but he had his uses.

He roared at Anna. ‘I said
now!
’

She scurried away, casting a glance over her shoulder to the King in his bed, his head buried in his hands. Yes, it had been another dream. More to the point, it had been the same dream that had woken him every night this past week. Richard knew that there was no way he could ignore it. Not any more.

J
OSEF WAS ONLY
in his twenties, but his wasted body, and the loss of most of his teeth, made him look much older. He was brought before the King, who was now clad in a night robe trimmed with finest ermine. Shackles were bound about the seer’s hands and hobbles stopped him from moving at any great speed. He abased himself before the King, and looked up as Richard spoke.

‘I dreamed,’ he said. ‘You will help me understand the revelations.’ ‘I live to serve, my King.’ Josef giggled inanely and Richard glowered. He hated the creature, hated him with a passion, but he needed him to make sense of the dreams that plagued him. He relayed the words of the woman who haunted his sleep, carefully omitting details of her identity. For six nights now she had come to him, stirring his rage, his lust, and his desires. For six nights he had dismissed her. But the raw power of last night’s vision could not be denied. He needed to untangle his thoughts.

Josef cackled and clapped his hands like a delighted child. Richard felt an overwhelming urge to choke the infernal creature. The seer continued to cackle for a little longer, rolling around the floor, and then rose up to his knees. He lifted his bound hands, the chains clinking in emphasis.

‘The Vessel comes, Richard Plantagenet? Why, it’s your son. Your first-born. So pure. So pure! Anybody can see if they have eyes to see it! He comes of age in a few months, and she comes to claim her long-awaited prize. The time is coming for the line of kings to pay the debt of their rule.’

Richard’s mouth went dry and he stared at the seer. His eldest son, his namesake. His heir. A boy he loved with every beat of his heart and with every breath in his body. He would be damned before he turned him over to anybody.

‘It is clear to me, your majesty,’ Josef said, his sing-song voice grating on every nerve in Richard’s body. ‘She has given you her power and whispered her secrets into your ear, and now she wants what is hers!’

‘No,’ said Richard. ‘No. There must be some other way.’ ‘She is a demon, a creature of magic and deceit. You are bound to her as she is bound to you, you cannot escape such a thing.’ Josef shrugged. ‘Unless the Inquisitors have wiped out all magic in the realm.’ The seer prodded experimentally at himself for a few seconds, then giggled to himself. ‘No, they haven’t!’

Richard got to his feet and moved to the window. ‘There
must
be some other way,’ he repeated. ‘I need you to find me an answer.’ He glared at Josef. ‘I will
not
give her my son.’

‘It seems to me,’ said the seer, ‘that if you want to rid yourself of a magical threat, you get rid of all the magical... things.’ He waved a hand, struggling to find the word he wanted to use.

‘The magi? The Inquisition... yes. Yes.’ Richard’s hand curled into a fist. ‘I will have them work harder. We must purge the taint of magic still lingering in this country. If there is no magic, then she cannot be summoned. My son will be safe.’

He pulled a slim knife from beneath his robes and advanced on the cackling seer. ‘If I must slay every magus with my own hand then it will be so.’ The King glared down at the maniacal seer. ‘Starting with you.’

Cwm Heddychol

Wales

B
RING
T
AGAN
. M
EET
me at the Circle.

The instruction had been simple, and still reeling from the things Wyn had revealed to him, Mathias had considered disobedience. But he was a good man and a loyal son, even if he was not truly of Wyn’s blood.

The Circle lay beyond the village borders, on one of the windswept hilltops overlooking the valley. There it was that weddings were held, and last words were spoken of the dead. It was nothing more than a rough circle of flattened grass surrounded by innocuous rocks of varying shape and size. The view from the top on a clear day was spectacular, the rolling crags and valleys of South Wales stretching away in every direction. This evening it was far from clear. The distant storm had closed in, gusting around the hilltop and driving a thin drizzle before it. Mathias approached the Circle, Tagan’s hand in his.

He had collected her from the forge, to her father’s great disapproval. When he mentioned they were going to the Circle at Wyn’s behest, the blacksmith had merely nodded. His eyes flitted between Mathias and his daughter.

‘Take care of her, Eynon,’ was all the taciturn man said, and it seemed unnecessarily
final
to Mathias’s ears.

I’m imagining things
.

Wyn’s story had shaken him far more than he realised. As he and Tagan walked from the village to the Circle, she had not asked him a single question. His serious manner and quiet demeanour had been enough for her to comply with his request.

He looked sideways at her. She was only an inch or so shorter than he was, and usually she walked close to him, their shoulders touching. Today, however, she was keeping a slight distance. Mathias knew exactly why this was. They were heading to a meeting with six of the most revered members of the village, and her father frequently told her that her open familiarity with Mathias was behaviour unbecoming of a young woman.

When she spoke, it broke the silence alarmingly.

‘Are you marrying me?’

Tagan’s question shook some of the darkness from the corners of his thoughts and he glanced at her with a quick, nervous smile. ‘Of course, my love,’ he replied quietly. ‘Only I hadn’t exactly planned to do it this evening.’

‘Good,’ she said. ‘Because I’m hardly dressed for it.’ Her smithing apron had been removed and she wore a simple linen shift. ‘My wedding dress is still in pieces on my father’s floor.’ She was nervous, he realised, talking about inane things to calm herself, and he gave her hand an experimental squeeze.
I am here,
he hoped to convey.
Don’t be afraid.

In response, she squeezed his hand back. It made him feel better. She smiled at him, the dimples in her cheeks making her even prettier than usual, and for a moment, all his own anxiety drained from him.

‘Mathias,’ she said in a tiny voice as they approached the Circle. ‘Mathias, why are they dressed like that?’

He looked where she pointed. There they were. Six figures, each seated on one of the flatter rocks lining the Circle. Wyn spotted them and raised a hand in greeting. He had changed into druidic robes, which was a startling enough sight, but as they climbed upwards, it slowly became apparent that all six of the elders were wearing similar outfits. Mathias had seen Wyn’s robes before. Usually, he wore them only for weddings and funerals, and other rites performed within the Circle.

‘Welcome and greetings, Mathias Eynon,’ said Wyn in the most formal tone the young man had ever heard him use. The old man’s eyes turned to Tagan and softened slightly. ‘And Tagan. Welcome and greetings to you also.’