Meuric (26 page)

XXXVIII

Meuric flew fast over the Great Wood up into the hills that were situated a few leagues to the southeast of Kar'el. He skimmed the treetops, to hide himself from any prying eyes, scaring a number of birds with his sudden appearance, who squawked and screeched in anger at him. He was sure that more than once he heard the voices of the people who lived in the Great Wood. Those who were attempting to live semi-normal lives, for not all were bad but had simply fallen on hard times, or brigands planning their future escapades. But the former Protectorate soldier cared nothing for them right now. His only concern was for Radha.

It was here that the newest Knight Protector of Kel'akh had built her most recent home and where he had last shared her bed some five years earlier. It was of simple construction made up of a home for herself and a further two smaller outbuildings. One was for a few livestock animals to be secured during the night and another for storing food. A wooden palisade surrounded the buildings and a small clearing had been created around that. From here she would watch over and protect the whole of Kel'akh, submitting to the will of the Council. Unless compromised she would stay here for seven years only. After that she would simply leave and move to a different location within Kel'akh.

Though it had taken him a little time for him to reach the cabin it would have taken Radha merely a heartbeat. One of her three abilities granted by the Gradalis was the Gift of Distant Carry; the ability to jump from one location to another in an instant, as long as she knew where she was leaping to. He could see the structures in the distance now and he could feel that something was out of place. It was magick but it was not just any narration. He had felt it before at Ah'mos and Ber'ek. The spell belonged to the Dark Druid though it was much smaller and more localised.

Meuric's emotions were in turmoil now. He needed to focus, to concentrate solely on what he was doing. Before the female Knight, for a long time it was only Dervla that had ever managed to make him feel distracted. Even the thought of his wife had sent him buzzing. Seeing Radha again had brought out emotions in him he had long believed buried. Meuric had loved the Kel'akh Knight Protector. He recognised Radha as the only woman who had the remotest possibility of replacing his beloved Dervla. But he always held a little bit of himself back.

That last morning he had simply upped and left. He had no need to explain himself. With her Gift of Distant Perception she would have known how he had felt. Very likely even at the same moment he had known. But she had never said anything. Radha had let him go and had never sought him out. For that, Meuric was grateful.

He landed lightly amongst the trees and immediately checked what he had with him. In his hand he still held his crossbow, loaded with two bolts. On his thigh a quiver was fixed holding a further four bolts. His two throwing knives he set back into place under his vambrace. Two long-bladed knives sat on his waist. Two smaller ones were at his back. His two short swords still rested on his back.

After peering around, Meuric checked his crossbow for damage or fraying of the string but there was really no need. The weapons of the Protectorate never broke. The crossbow had been designed specifically for the Knight Protectors explicitly to be used as a short-ranged weapon. But it was silent and accurate. It held two small quarrels at a time, possessed a grip that allowed the weapon to be held one-handed and a small double trigger that allowed the arrows to be released singly or both at the same time. By the triggers lay a small lever. It acted as a safety catch so that the weapon could not be fired accidentally. It was simply a work of art.

He scanned the area around him again examining the scene for enemies. He was confident that the Dark Druid's men would not be looking up but he could not be sure. There was no sense rushing into battle now half-cocked with the enemy possibly waiting. Radha would be either alive or dead by now. Whichever way, he would find her. Now that a combat situation was upon him all doubts left Meuric. It was time to do what he did best.

It was time to kill.

Cautiously he moved through the trees, silent as any shade of the Otherworld would be. His grey cold eyes scanned the area searching for traps or where an assassin might be lying in wait. He neither saw nor felt anything with the use of his abilities. He knew that the magick surrounding the area was affecting his Gifts so they could no longer be trusted. Cautiously he crept forward, his crossbow held before him.

The sudden silence of the forest was more deafening than the loudest noise. There were no noises of nocturnal rodents, birds or insects. It seemed that Briiz herself, daughter of the god Widan and personification
of the breeze that touched the whole of Terit're, held her breath, fearing to rustle even the smallest leaf. The shadows elongated under the arcing sun, making the trees seem grotesque and menacing in appearance.

Meuric crept a little closer towards Radha's home. He could now see the wooden wall was exactly the same as he had remembered it. The trees surrounding the palisade had been cut away a short distance revealing a clearing. With no cover she could easily identify anyone approaching her home. A stream that had supplied Radha with fresh water lay to the west, lapping lazily against some stones. Like all Knight Protectors, when setting up home they had always been taught to seek out somewhere with a bit of altitude. Water was less likely to be tainted by other people and animals were also more plentiful.

Without any warning he sensed a presence. It was impossible to tell exactly what it was or who it was. It was just a sensation of sudden magick. As soon as he had felt the surge of energy, it was gone. Meuric focused and reached out with his mind, seeking a presence within Radha's home. Disturbingly, he failed to find any life. Even the most basic forms of animal within the artificial glade failed to make their existence known. The water he could hear trickling. Only outside the clearing could he feel the animals of the forest.

A compartmentalised Veil Narration, concluded Meuric. He knew that it was designed to hide the presence of people in a specified area. The Dark Druid used something similar, only he could cover a large expanse of land.

Meuric crouched and waited, remaining stock still. He was watching for movement to catch his eye or for a foreign noise to touch his ears. He could only hear the soft rustle of the leaves whispering about him.

He decided to move off slowly to the east. He wanted to circle the whole of the glade searching for any hidden ambushes or traps. He also hoped to be able to learn any intelligence about the condition of Radha. This was what being a soldier was really about. The final battle, when whole armies faced each other in conflict, was only the end result of war. First comes the reconnaissance, the gathering of information, followed by the planning, the waiting and then finally the fighting.

Having allowed his mind to drift even for a moment, Meuric almost fell over the first dead body. The second lay only a short distance away. Relief flooded him. Neither of them was Radha. Both had been killed quickly and cleanly. The body before him lay on its back, its severed head still within its black helmet. A
crossbow rested in his right hand, much like the design of Meuric's own. He immediately noted the olive green tunics of both bodies. These two men belonged to the army of the Dark Druid.

Expertly Meuric searched the first body. He kept one eye on the surroundings, his crossbow raised. He had hoped to gain some sort of intelligence. He found nothing, not even a token to mark his religion or a coin denoting any locations he may have been to. With no horses spotted he could only assume that he had been magicked there by a Doorway Narration. He could see that the man was from the Eastern Confederation though, as indicated by his yellow skin and slanted eyes. Meuric turned and scanned the path he was taking. There was nothing except for the slight swaying of the trees.

Reluctantly, he reached for the dead man's crossbow. He constantly had to be careful when using his natural-born Gift of Soul Measure. Emotions and memories from an item always threatened to overwhelm his personality. On more than one occasion it had taken Meuric some time to regain his composure. The former Knight Protector had only touched the crossbow for the briefest of moments. He snatched his hand away as if it was on fire. His mind exploded with memories that were not his own.

The dead warrior had not been an evil man at first. He had been a person of some standing, a proud warrior of some repute, intelligent, fair and honest, a loving father and a dutiful husband. In the Kel'akh Nation such a man could have even been considered a champion. He may have even been considered a perfect candidate to become a Knight Protector. Unfortunately he had fallen on hard times only to be successfully recruited by the Dark Druid.

Meuric could hear the lies spoken by the dark master resonate about his mind. Being the sort of man that he was, what else could the warrior do but agree to fight evil from across the world? Specifically he was targeted to fight the immorality that the Conclave represented and the darkness the Knight Protectors sheltered.

The intense training had started soon after. Meuric was amazed to discover that it was very similar to that of the Protectorate's own training. Then had come the drugs and the lies. Meuric had heard of that technique. His instructor had called it conditioning, the twisting of a mind to think a certain way. After that the warrior's mind had very much become a blur as he sank deeper into the abyss. The three years of training passed quickly. By the end of it the warrior had become a completely different person. He had returned home but was
unrecognisable to his family. And so he had left and returned to the Dark Druid's Legion. He never looked back.

Meuric silently made his way over to the second body. He touched it lightly. The second man's story was very much like that of the first. He was a great fighter, brave and true, who had also fallen into difficult times. He too was taken from all he knew, isolated, drugged and manipulated. He was rejected by his own people. Again all that was left for him was the Dark Druid.

Meuric saw a small black dagger protruding from the second corpse's throat. It was one of Radha's own. Quivering, he reached out and touched it. He closed his eyes delving deeper into a mystical connection. When he opened them again the world around him had changed. The forest was brighter, the two corpses were gone and he could see Radha standing only a short distance away, sword and dagger in hand.

XXXIX

Bradán was able to overlook Theirn, Rabi'a's Chieftain, as he addressed his War Band. In a hurried manner his warriors made a half-circle around him and pressed in to hear him better but there was really no need. Theirn, as it turned out, was an excellent orator and his deep voice boomed for all to hear.

He first spoke of his love for his people and his village. He reminded them all that he was born of Rabi'a and had been chosen by the villagers to lead the settlement in all matters. Next he reminded them that to do the right thing was far more important than living with a death warrant over their heads, because in the end it will be Skeil and not the Roz'eli who will judge your soul on the deeds you have accomplished in life when you enter the Otherworld and it will be that god who ultimately decides their fate for the remainder of eternity.

Behind them from every window in every building the people of the large village gazed on in expectation. Even though the Druid Captain had taken a step back from the window to hide a little better in the shadows of the storeroom he was able to notice how Rainier, Rabi'a's War Band Commander, grew just that little bit taller, his chest expanding to give him a greater bearing as he heard the words of his friend.

“Touch the gods” was a well-known phrase within military camps when soldiers stood on parade. It was when you grew upwards and outwards to give yourself a larger bearing, denoting pride in your station and unit.

Bradán observed in silence, not even attempting to make conversation with Senator Tacitus behind him. He tried to imagine being the Chieftain right now. It was something that he often did as if to attempt to perceive the world through the eyes of the enemy. Theirn knew that all the eyes of his men, if not the whole village, were looking to him for the leadership that would lead them to safety.

Bradán did not have to see Theirn's face to know what it was like. He would have bet all the gold that he owned that the Chieftain's face was passive, maybe even stern, but his eyes blazed with an anger and passion for the men and women of his village who looked to him to keep them safe. Movement caught the Druid Captain's eye to the right of Theirn. It was Ysolt, second-in-command of the War Band, shifting her feet out of impatience. She obviously had other things that she wanted to attend to.

Theirn cleared his throat and continued. “You are wondering why we killed those men today,” he began, his voice deep and powerful.

“Not really, Theirn,” cried a man from the front, “we're just glad you finally let us kill a few Roz'eli.”

Several of the men laughed. A number more nodded in agreement. It was true that in Nah'cho there was no love for the Roz'eli Empire. It was not uncommon in Kel'akh society, even in one conquered by the Roz'eli for a generation, for grudges to run on for an age before finally being able to settle them.

Behind Bradán the senator shifted. “I shall see them all dead,” he hissed.

Bradán slowly turned and unhurriedly placed a finger over his lips. He did not want any swift motion to be caught by the eyes of anyone below. He aimed the gesture at Tacitus, then turned again to spy on the mob below before the senator could rebuke him. Theirn had held up his hand requesting for silence. When he got it, which took only moments due to the respect he carried, he continued.

“There is more, Edgar,” he said addressing the Rabi'a who had just spoken. “Xavier has discovered that all those who have met the people from Jay'keb have been killed, including their friends and their families. They were Nah'cho people.” He paused for a moment to allow the words to sink in. “They were innocent people. I could not, will not, allow that to happen here.

“Now I plan to question the Roz'eli officer in private and find out who ordered the deaths of that boy, his mother and his friends. I intend to discover who is behind all this. I intend to put a stop to it myself.” There were some nervous glances. “I know that it was not the Emperor who commanded it. It was an illegal act used in his name. Nevertheless when the Emperor hears of what has happened here today he will wipe out this village for it was his men that we have cut down. Not a stone will be left standing by the time they have finished with us. Our bones will be grinded into dust. Our names will be forgotten. Make no mistake of what I tell you. When I fought for the Roz'eli as many here already have, we saw what they do to those who refuse to obey their laws.”

“What do you need us to do?” asked Edgar.

“Pass the word,” commanded Rainier stepping forward. “There will be no talking of what has transpired today with those outside of our walls. Other than that, Xavier has been issued a series of orders. You will carry
them out immediately. We are also missing two of the enemy. The Roz'eli senator and the Kel'akh man who fought for them.”

“Rainier,” spoke out a voice above the rest. It seemed to come from the centre of the crowd. “Can we not fetch the Oak Seer and use his Gifts to find out this information?”

A few men chuckled at this as did the War Band Commander. Bradán could see Rainier stiffen. He glanced towards Theirn. The knowledge of an Oak Seer in those parts in general was a closely guarded secret. It had to be for the prēost's safety. Those of that ilk were hunted down and murdered with impunity within the lands of Roz'eli. Only prēosts of Reume were allowed to exist.

He could feel, without seeing, Rainier staring at the man, judging him, wondering what he knew about him. As a rule, in Roz'eli-held land no one openly spoke of the Oak Seers. General Agents and collaborators were rife throughout the Empire. It was one of the ways in which the Emperor kept abreast of all things, ensuring cohesion within his realm. At the same time it freed his Men-of-the-Legion from public order duties, using them more effectively in the continual wars that Roz'eli seemed to fight.

And that was the question Rainier was asking himself right now.

Bradán looked at the man who stood at the centre of the crowd. No one stood too close to him, the villagers unconsciously creating a gap around him. The Druid Captain could probably only see it because of his elevated position. It would have been a lot harder to see from the ground. Bradán guessed that the man was new to the village. That was why he was standing by himself.

Though Bradán could still not see the leaders of Rabi'a's faces he saw the warrior Edgar offer the slightest of nods. A few of the older warriors next to him assumed set expressions, their eyes cold. One glanced in the direction of the newcomer. Bradán did not need to guess now at what was happening. Either Rainier or Theirn had signalled to his warriors to eliminate the man. His will would be done.

“Now you all know the stories of the Oak Seer who wanders constantly,” said Rainier trying to sound light, almost flippant. “Yet in all my travels I have never seen him or her. Have any of you?” No one spoke. Seconds passed. “No one ever has since the Roz'eli killed the last one in our homeland. Their caste has been outlawed. It is my guess that no Oak Seer would dare set foot again in Nah'cho, until the Roz'eli have left.

“We know of the great powers that they possess but they are not all-powerful and they are so few in number I doubt that we will ever see one again in our lifetime. I say this only because I do not want any of us to delve into false hope. If they come so be it, but I would very much rather be ready to stand on our own two feet. Duties will be passed out. Obey them.”

The mob began to break up. Bradán noted that Edgar, with a few others, immediately made their way to the newcomer, hands on hilts. Xavier moved off to join them. Others gathered into small groups and awaited their orders. Now a different direction of movements caught Bradán's eye. He froze, catching his breath in the same moment.

Rainier and Theirn were walking towards him.