Underbelly (39 page)

Us mediums never fight well. I think we’re the whipping boys of the occult hierarchy
, Grey joked.

No, you’re skilled in other ways. Your kind are powerful, sometimes too powerful. My powers manifested themselves after I’d been there six years. Try and stifle your laughter. My powers lay in my dreams. It wasn’t even prophecy, the events from my dreams usually visions from the recent past.

I’m not laughing, Logar, it’s not that dissimilar to mine. Your power enabled you to find out information from the past, as does mine.

I disagree, but thank you for saying so. Dagulen tried to make me treasure my gift too. He eventually managed to persuade me to try my hand at studying the field of the occult, which I took to well. It wasn’t combat, which I loved, but it was more calming and I still trained in fighting regularly. I began to help with most things, spending one night a week watching the homeless sleep, splitting them up when fights broke out, which happened nightly. I learned new languages – it was essential for the work I was doing, and helped me integrate better, I was taught to read. I think the most important thing I was taught was compassion.

Octavius had no compassion. By the time he first attacked I was working mainly with the other scholars – we all had differing skills and contributed in our own way. There were healers who nursed the sick, bodyguards who protected the vulnerable and anyone in peril, and there was us scholars, mostly seers more advanced than me, led by Dagulen. Dagulen had warned us about him, having fought him often in the past, and when it was foreseen that he was coming I wanted to fight him. I was refused permission, and by that stage I was prepared to accept refusal, albeit very reluctantly. Those with fighting skills were prepared for him, armed and armoured. Octavius didn’t come to partake in a fair fight. He had taken hostages of the townsmen, and he executed one in front of us before he could be stopped. He said that for every one of us who gave ourselves up he would release a townsman and that if we all surrendered every townsperson would be spared. Eight men walked out to him and stood placidly as he lopped their heads off before Octavius did as he promised and released a hostage. I had a great view of all of this, up on the roof, and I went down to Dagulen, who was distraught as he watched the scene. He was powerful but he wasn’t a fighter, his soul was too gentle, and I begged him to let me go out there and deal with him. Instead Dagulen tried to negotiate a compromise with him. Our group performed a spell which made all of Octavius’ troop grow queasy, affecting all bar the monster himself. Dagulen warned Octavius that the potency of the spell could be increased and the effects on his men would be deadly – it was a bluff, he wasn’t prepared to kill so many men by imprecation, not because he couldn't but because it was wrong – making them ill made him feel guilty enough. Dagulen offered to withdraw the spell’s ill effects from them if the prisoners were released. Octavius called his bluff, having all 40 of the townsmen swiftly killed before leaving with his men, who remained ill for a few days until Dagulen removed the spell from them. There were some dissenting voices about that, many believing that they deserved to die, myself included. The townspeople blamed us for not saving their brethren, for not fighting back, and they turned on us, rejecting our aid, and we moved on.

We started again elsewhere and built up trust within our community when Octavius returned and this time I was given dispensation by Dagulen to fight. We were all given the choice of fighting and we all took it, including Dagulen himself. I revelled in being able to fight without holding back – my mindset was more akin to Octavius and his troops than my brethren, who held memorial services nightly for those that they killed, some going so far as to flagellate themselves to try and alleviate the guilt they felt. We stood up to him and we won the war – we lost our home again, our standing in the community ruined by the chaos, but we made Octavius retreat.

We saw little of him over the coming centuries, and they were happy times. We knew that if we moved to another town Octavius would show up and try to hurt the innocents around us so we made a giant house – more of a fortress but we called it a house – in secluded woods. We all pulled together and through our powers and hard labour we were finished quickly. There was enough space for everyone to have a room of their own and I chose to – many preferred to keep sharing. We all had mixed feelings about withdrawing from society – I know it grieved Dagulen greatly, because it meant that we were unable to help the people. Any travellers who stumbled upon us were always welcomed like a visiting king, and new recruits had much attention lavished upon them also. Most were found by Tole, with the occasional man finding his own way to us.

Dagulen had never been our official leader, and had never coveted that role, and after what he viewed as his repeated failures against Octavius he suggested electing a council. He would have been happy for all of us to have an equal voice, but that was how we were supposed to have been living and everyone just looked to him for leadership that way. We insisted that he be a member of the council, which he agreed to, and a six strong council was formed. Slight cracks appeared in our small society then, but they were quickly dealt with and the new system worked. Eventually word got out about us and the infirm, and in some cases the lazy, came to us for charity and shelter, which we were happy to provide, able to keep them safe as long as they stayed within our haven.

Women were allowed inside and protected by us though they were not permitted to join our brotherhood, the matter coming to a vote which went strongly against it. I voted to allow women to join, although I have to admit that my motives weren’t entirely pure. Dagulen was very opposed to the idea, believing that it would destroy everything that we had built up, but he did believe that a sister organisation like ours would be of the utmost benefit to the world and the upset and angry female mystics we turned away. It was through trying to set this up that he met Ida. Like us she lived in a forest but she was a total recluse, a powerful mystic with the ability to command nature. She wasn’t interested in joining a sisterhood, wanting no human companionship, and she was left alone. Her decision proved wise as the small group of women that Dagulen and Tole assembled were killed within three months of their formation by Octavius.

Shortly after this the prophecy of the Northern woman came up for the first time. It was a very vague prophecy, stating that a woman from the north had the potential to defeat Octavius. This contentious prophecy caused a lot of arguments, some of our members disputing that a woman could be capable – I stand by our organisation as a benevolent order but that was our one shortcoming, the treatment of women, who many of us undervalued.

That might apply to some of you. I don’t think it applies to you, Logar.

No, I always valued women. The question I ask myself is did I value them in the right way? Eventually, after many rites to try and discover the truth about the prophecy, it was assumed that the wood witch, as some called her, Ida, was the woman, and she was invited to live with us as an honorary ally. Such an arrangement didn’t suit her and it took Dagulen a month to persuade her. She would only live with us at winter, a time when she did require shelter, and for the rest of the year she lived among her trained animals. She and Dagulen were married, and while I don’t feel it’s my place to comment too much about their marriage, it wasn’t that dissimilar to other marriages of the time. It was an arrangement. Ida was not used to company and didn’t mix with us very often, acting like a trapped animal during her months with us, her eyes wild and darting, but she did occasionally make an effort, appreciating that we protected her from Octavius, who we spied upon regularly – we had to because we had to know if she was safe during the months she was alone.

Logar grew tired and Grey suggested they take a break for the rest of the day and recommence in the morning, an arrangement that suited Grey as he could talk to Logar while working (sweeping the floor didn’t exactly require his undivided attention) and he wanted to talk to his wife. He was open with her and shared more of the revelations he had discovered, revelations that interested her as much as they did him, reminding him of the serials he used to love in his youth, as farfetched and exciting as Flash Gordon or Chandu.

“
You should write this all down. Do you want me to?” Germaine said, fascinated by what he was telling her. “This is important history, and I imagine it’s…unrecorded, is that right?”

“
That’s right, Germaine. Don’t worry, it’s all memorised. Laura’s already heard of Dagulen. She was alive then, in his last days.”

“
It sounds a horrible time to be alive. I’m glad I wasn’t alive in those days.”

“
Octavius wouldn’t have gone for you. He comes across as a bad man, but he had his code of ethics,” Grey said, reassuring her she would have been safe.

“
But he would have gone for you. He sounds hideous,” Germaine said, disliking everything that she had heard about the huntsman, yet eager to hear more.

“
I don’t have a showy power, so I think he wouldn’t have noticed me. The only way he might have is if I’d gone to join Dagulen’s brotherhood, which I would certainly have considered.”

“
I think you would have been with Laura.”

“
No, not then,” he said. He had never told Germaine any specifics of Laura’s past, Germaine having no idea of how bad Laura had once been. “Don’t worry about anything that I’ve told you because the time when these mystic beings had dominion over the planet is long over. The democratic process has put the power in the people’s hands now, and our leaders could beat Octavius, Dagulen, and that evil witch without any problems.”

His words of reassurance were unnecessary, but appreciated. While she detested Inge with a vengeance, she had no blanket hatred or fear of the mystical, viewing Laura as a friend, and while she viewed James to be as human as she was, he was gifted and that didn’t lessen her love for him.

Germaine was glad that James had shared his stories of Logar with her (her absolute discretion enabled him to talk freely of others without guilt), giving her something to think about during a tedious day at the diner. She kept smiling and was polite, masking her boredom well. Late in the afternoon JD came in and she inwardly sighed. Unlike most of the other customers he had always been friendly to her – too friendly. He kept asking her out, refusing to be put off even when she told him that she was married, telling her that her husband didn’t have to know. After she brought him his order he started again, unable to help himself.

“
If you were my wife, I wouldn’t make you work at a joint like this,” he said critically.

“
He doesn’t make me. I want to. It seems a nice place to me,” Germaine lied as she wiped down a dirty table, trying to remain upbeat and taking no offence at what he said.

“
You don’t belong here.”

“
I know that,” Germaine said quietly.

“
What?”

“
I’m not as good at being a waitress as Rosie was. I think I’m capable enough to do the job for a few weeks before we leave town.”

“
To go where? I heard you talking to Lou about all of the places he’s taken you to. Travelling is for single men, not for married couples. You look weary. You need roots.”

“
I have roots and they’re wrapped around him.”

“
He abuses you.”

“
He does not!” she said ferociously, believing the word only referred to rape. “Do you want anything else or can I get on with my job?” she snapped.

“
Stupid fucking bitch,” JD muttered. He considered himself to be a prime catch and felt that he was doing Germaine a favour by making the offer and he would not tolerate her ungrateful tone. Germaine walked away from him to go and fetch the mop to start cleaning the floor, feeling JD’s eyes on her as she mopped up. After she was finished he spilt his coffee on the floor, shouting an apology to Chester, who told him not to worry about it and Germaine had to go and fetch the mop again and work near him as he verbally abused her quietly, calling her stuck-up, a tease, anything that he thought might hurt her. She was growing stronger and ignored him, viewing him as too pathetic to upset or annoy her. Grey came through the door when she was still mopping up the coffee near JD, his silent greeting of Germaine from a distance with his eyes and a static chest height wave revealing to JD that this was her husband.

“
You turned me down for him?” JD whispered derisively.