Rune Gate Cycle: Omnibus, page 41
Bevyn stood. “Wait here, I won’t be long.”
Before he could say a word, Bevyn was out the door, intent upon his errand. Lloyd turned to Kendrick, who stood to pour himself more wine. This time he accepted a glass when Kendrick offered.
“What do you suppose he meant?” he said, and sampled his glass. The wine had a fruity aftertaste. He quite liked it.
Kendrick shrugged. “No idea, but I imagine he’s gone to ask the Guildmaster for his approval. We need that before we do anything.”
Bevyn returned after a quarter of an hour or so, but he wasn’t alone. Lloyd and Kendrick stood to greet Guildmaster Halvard as he entered.
“So,” Halvard began. “Bevyn tells me that you’re in need of an invitation to the Stonybrook chapterhouse.”
He nodded. “I’d like to speak with Duke Moore, yes.”
“And your friends of course.”
“That would be good. I need to tell them about Douglas.”
“Ah yes, Lord Skeldon is a prisoner you say. And Lord Wallace?”
“Him too.”
“Really?” Halvard said sceptically. “That’s very strange, because I saw Lord Wallace at the palace not long ago. This morning in fact.”
He didn’t flinch from the Guildmaster’s sharp look. “That would have been Karel, not Wallace. He’s using the doppelganger spell quite freely.”
Bevyn hissed in disgust. “Blood magic.”
“Blood magic is why Wallace and Douglas are still alive. It’s my understanding that it requires donors to be living.”
“Not all blood magic, but the doppelganger spell does. It uses the laws of magical contagion to create the illusion. You see, what happen is—”
“Not now, Bevyn, if you please,” the Guildmaster said testily. “There will be time for lessons later. The point is that some blood magic spells require a sacrifice of blood, while others require the sacrifice and a viable link to a living donor. If rescuing the wayward lords hadn’t been essential before, it is now. I cannot have Karel visiting the palace, interacting with the queen, the prince, and any lord that takes his fancy whenever he feels like it! He’s a renegade and my responsibility even now. He must be revealed and brought to justice.”
“I agree,” Lloyd said.
“It’s lucky that I have to pay my respects to Rhiannon at Stonybrook then, isn’t it? The word is already spreading through the hall about my official visit.”
Lloyd grinned.
“Should I call for your carriage to be brought around, Guildmaster?” Kendrick asked.
“No need. It’s already waiting in the plaza for us. Come along. We can’t keep Rhiannon waiting.”
They trooped out of the room in the Guildmaster’s wake.
* * *
30 ~ Stonybrook
Lloyd was impressed. Not only had the Guildmaster finessed them an interview with Duke Henry Moore, he’d made it seem easy and like a preplanned occasion. No one would guess he’d cobbled the entire thing together at short notice, or the reasons behind it. The trip by coach would have been pleasant under other circumstances, but Lloyd couldn’t help brooding upon the reasons it was necessary. He was heading toward another turning point in his life. He could feel it looming.
Looking back, he could identify others he’d navigated. There was Michael’s invitation to join a circle as his guest, and that had led to a permanent place in Silver Mist, his coven. Alex Yorke’s phone call was another. A week earlier and he would have been out of state on a work related trip, and he wouldn’t have been available to accompany Michael. Leaping through the rune gate was utter idiocy and another turning point. Why had he done it? He couldn’t explain it even now, but he was thankful. He loved it here. It must have been the hand of the Goddess. That was the only explanation he could think of. The urge to take a chance, to throw the dice and leap into the unknown, had come upon him out of nowhere, and he’d heeded it.
His disastrous decision to betray the others and help Karel escape had come last of all. That was the only one he regretted, for it had led directly to Alison’s death and his nightmares. The Goddess would judge him for it one day. Perhaps one day soon. He believed in her, and the rede. He couldn’t conceive of a fit punishment for his crime, let alone one that would adhere to the principles enshrined in the three-fold law, but he knew the Goddess could and would. He believed in the power of three; by rights, he should pay with his life three times over for Alison, but that was an absurd impossibility. He didn’t know what would happen, but something would, and soon. He could feel another change coming, another turning point in his life loomed just ahead.
He’d imagined the chapterhouse would look something like a nunnery. It would have walled grounds to shut out the world’s distractions, and its ancient stones would be dingy moss-covered things, screaming their antiquity. The gardens would be tilled by stern-seeming women—the witches whose home it was—growing their own food as they lived their lives in grim solitude.
Stonybrook’s reality was very far from his imaginings.
The grounds were indeed walled, but that was the only thing he got right. When the coach drove through the open and welcoming gates, he saw red-coated soldiers drilling upon the grounds. There were extensive gardens, but they weren’t for growing vegetables. They were beautiful things with many colourful flowerbeds and trees heavy with fruit. The lawns were lushly green and well kept. He wondered how many people it took to maintain; it must require an army of gardeners like Fergus. He wondered if they used magic to keep it so well.
The thought intrigued him.
The coach pulled up outside the main house, and stopped to let them out. The building was a large stone manor with many leaded windows and a grey tiled roof. He counted four stories in all, and estimated its population must be in the hundreds. He didn’t know how many of them would be witches dwelling at Stonybrook full time. Many living here would be servants, and then there were all the visitors. He was sure the Reverend Mother had brought a large retinue of witches with her, plus the Dun’Moore soldiery accompanying their duke as escort. Perhaps the other buildings he’d seen from the heights, were barracks and servant’s quarters. Some were, he was sure, others would be stables and stores. The soldiers must need a lot of horses and equipment. Food as well.
The Guildmaster dismounted from the coach followed by Bevyn and Kendrick. Lloyd climbed out last of all. The others all outranked him, and protocol had to be maintained in front of outsiders. The Guildmaster was an important personage; a visit by him was an extraordinary event, not a casual one. Well aware of all the curious eyes turned their way, he straightened to his full height, determined to make a good impression. Wearing his robe and representing the Guild, he would do nothing to embarrass either himself or his companions on a state visit.
A uniformed man greeted them in the foyer of the house, and ushered them into Henry Moore’s presence with no wasted motions or time. The Duke was a solid looking man; obviously a soldier. He wasn’t wearing a sword or anything like that, but he had that stiff shoulders-back bearing military men often had. His clothes were very fine, as any noble’s clothing should be in this culture, but his coat had a military cut. Unlike his men’s uniforms, it was black not Dun’Moore red, and sported silvery grey embroidery. He was wearing calf-length boots and tight trousers that displayed muscled thighs. He must spend a lot of time in the saddle. The style of his clothes suggested he preferred wearing uniform, but his tailor had made allowances for the occasion. The black did suit him. It made his ginger hair and full beard stand out. He’d tied his ponytail with a black ribbon at the nape of his neck. He looked every inch the rich nobleman.
“Warren!” Henry said in delight. “To what do I owe this pleasure? You didn’t have to come all the way out here. I could have come to you.”
The Guildmaster beamed. “Bored already?”
“Well...”
Both men laughed.
Lloyd looked on in bemused silence. He hadn’t known the two were friends. He listened as they enquired about acquaintances they both knew and family, but then the Guildmaster came to the reason they were visiting.
“Henry, may I present Novice Lloyd Hawkridge?”
Henry offered his hand. “Of course! Any friend of yours...” he broke off with a frown. “Lloyd Hawkridge?”
He nodded and shook the offered hand. “That’s right.”
“You wouldn’t happen to know Douglas Skeldon by chance?”
He winced as the handshake turned into a knuckle crusher. “I would, and I’d prefer it if you didn’t break my hand until after I’ve explained myself.”
“I vouch for him, Henry.”
Henry glanced at his friend and released his grip. “For you, Warren, only for you.”
The Guildmaster nodded. “I appreciate that. Can we sit? There’s a lot to talk about.”
They seated themselves and Lloyd began his story.
He’d spun the tale enough times that he didn’t have to think about it. Kendrick and Bevyn had heard an abridged version of it that time at the Broken Arrow, only to hear the entire thing later when he explained himself to the Guildmaster. Despite its familiarity, they listened raptly as if hearing it for the first time. Henry however, wasn’t content with listening; he questioned and listened closely to the answers, perhaps comparing them with the information gleaned from Douglas.
Finally, he was done with the tale, leaving Henry frowning and the others waiting upon him. The silence stretched out, threatening to become uncomfortable.
Bevyn broke it. “Might I meet Lloyd’s friends do you suppose, your Grace?”
“Call me Henry.”
“Henry then. I’ve heard Lloyd’s story three times now, and each retelling makes me more eager to meet them.”
Henry nodded and headed for the door. “We need to plan a rescue, and Tomas at least needs to be a part of that,” he said over his shoulder. He opened the door and ducked his head out to speak to one of his men before returning to his seat.
“Why only Tomas?” Bevyn asked.
“Michael is more than welcome to come along, but Tomas will prove the more useful I think. You mentioned the guns that Karel’s men carry. Tomas has one. It should prove useful.”
Lloyd had a sudden thought that made Tomas essential to their planning. “Before leaving the city, Bevyn and Kendrick were speculating about your men’s armour. Tomas’ gun will be needed to test the theory.”
Henry turned to the archivist. “What do you have in mind?”
“Merely some rune craft on their breastplates.”
The Guildmaster snorted. “There’s nothing mere about it, but I agree it must be done. If Lloyd’s guns are as dangerous as he insists, they’ll need protection.”
“They are,” Henry said grimly. “I’ve had a demonstration. Quick, easy to learn, and deadly accurate.”
“Armour won’t make them completely safe. Can you work on their helmets too?” Lloyd said, and Bevyn nodded. “That will help. There’s nothing to be done about their arms and legs I suppose?”
“I’m sure I could come up with something, given time to study the problem.”
“We don’t have that luxury,” Henry said as the door opened to reveal Tomas and Michael. “Come on in. Look who came for a visit!”
Lloyd turned just in time to see the fist that clipped him on the jaw. Ow! He ducked the follow up, surprised but glad it was Michael attacking him, and not Tomas. The cop would have put him on the ground with one punch, but even as angry as Michael was, he wasn’t a violent person. His attack was half-hearted at best.
“Enough!” Henry roared, and his guards piled into the room. He glared. “Out!”
They went.
He worked his jaw. “No harm done.”
Michael growled. “Yet.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow you to harm him further,” Bevyn said wryly. “It would look bad. I’m his sponsor you see? I can’t have him walking the halls with black eyes and bruises.”
The Guildmaster snorted in amusement, but Kendrick looked concerned.
Lloyd smiled at his friend to reassure him. He’d noticed that Bevyn had allowed Michael to get a few licks in, but by his body language, he did mean what he’d said. He wouldn’t allow further punishment. He wasn’t sure he deserved protection.
“Is Alison around here somewhere?” Tomas asked.
No, he definitely didn’t deserve it. He’d just taken a deep breathe to explain, when the door opened again and the Reverend Mother swept into the room, followed by a gaggle of women. Sandy and Alex were with them, and the huge cat he’d seen in his brazier. He stared at the ferocious looking beast in fascination. Battle cat was a good name for a giant prehistoric tiger. That’s what it was all right. It was a flaming sabre-tooth tiger!
“I just learned that we have visitors,” Rhiannon said. “Why am I just learning we have visitors? When the Guildmaster himself visits one of my chapterhouses, I expect to be informed. Especially when I happen to be in residence!”
Henry winced. “Now Rhiannon—”
“Don’t now Rhiannon me! I rule here, not you!”
“I know but—”
Rhiannon silenced him with a withering glare. Henry grinned, but she ignored him by turning her attention to her guests. Her eyes swept imperiously over everyone and locked upon the Guildmaster. She inclined her head to him regally, and he responded in kind. Though neither considered the other their equal, they did maintain the appearance in public.
“Welcome to Stonybrook, Guildmaster.”
“Thank you, Reverend Mother. You know Bevyn of course but I don’t think you’ve ever met his nephew, Kendrick?”
“Be welcome,” Rhiannon said. “And this is the infamous Lloyd Hawkridge I presume?”
He winced. “I am he, Reverend Mother.”
“Where is Alison?” Michael asked impatiently. “Why isn’t she with you, and what about Karel?”
Rhiannon frowned.
Lloyd hesitated, but there was no escape. “She’s dead. Karel killed her that same night. There was nothing I could do. I would have stopped him if I could, Michael. I swear on my life I would have.” Magic swirled about him and he stiffened, eyes widening in alarm. He hadn’t meant to swear an oath; it had just been an expression! He’d forgotten where he was!
Goddess please, I didn’t mean...
“Foolish boy,” Bevyn muttered darkly. “Throwing oaths around as if they mean nothing. Will you never learn caution?”
The magic dissipated, leaving him unharmed, and his breath whooshed out. His knees felt suddenly weak. The Lady had looked into his heart and judged him. She had judged him, and hadn’t found him wanting... this time. Goddess bless him for a fool. Bevyn was right. He needed to learn to keep his mouth shut.
“Karel killed her, but it’s your fault,” Tomas said coldly. “You untied him. You helped him escape. It’s your damn fault!”
“I know,” he said sadly.
Michael shook his head pityingly. “Oh, you poor fool. You know what this means, and here of all places.”
He nodded. The rule of three would come home to roost one day. He did know it. Tomas looked confused. He didn’t have the heart to explain it to him. Alex and Sandy looked horrified. They knew. On this world where the Lady’s influence was so great, his punishment would surely be of epic proportions. One day he would pay, but that day wasn’t today and he needed to explain about Douglas.
Alex’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “What about, Douglas?”
He winced again and used a mental exercise to block her out of his mind. “He’s a prisoner.”
Alex paled. “How?” she gasped.
“Where—” Tomas cut in.
“How do you know?” Michael said.
“Silence!” Rhiannon glared at everyone, daring them to interrupt her. Miriam and Ehlana sniffed to declare their disapproval. “I will hear your story from the beginning, if you please, and then I’ll hear your news of Lord Skeldon.” She turned to Henry. “Your hospitality leaves much to be desired, your Grace.”
Henry smiled mockingly. “Would you care to sit, Mother?”
She nodded, ignoring the twinkle in his eye.
“And wine, Mother? Should I fetch refreshments with my own hands, Mother?”
She muttered something under her breath, and Alex laughed quietly.
They found places to sit, and Lloyd spun his tale one final time. Alex listened grimly when he described Alison’s death, and Tomas looked furious. He described the journey to the capital, his first brutal lessons in rune craft, and then his arrival at Hardenburg. He described the manor where they’d stayed in detail, explained about Wallace being a prisoner at the end of the hall, and his first meeting with Fergus. He couldn’t help the enthusiasm that entered his voice as he described his first meeting with Bevyn, and how he gained his sponsorship.
“And then we came out here,” he finished his story and drank his wine. His throat was parched. “We need soldiers to help rescue them. We can deal with Karel’s magic, but his men all have modern guns.”
“How many and what kind?” Tomas said intently.
“I don’t have an exact count, but there must have been at least a couple of dozen men. They all carry swords and daggers, as well as guns like your nine.” He nodded to the pistol, a nine-millimetre Model 34, holstered on Tomas’ hip.
“Just a Glock each? What about rifles?”
He shook his head. “I never saw any.”
“That’s something,” Tomas muttered. “Seventeen rounds per mag though. That’s still a lot of firepower. If we go charging in there, some of us are going to die.”
“That’s what I intend to prevent,” the Guildmaster said, and turned to address Henry. “Bevyn and I will strengthen your men’s armour. Perhaps Tomas will demonstrate his weapon and proof our work?”
Tomas nodded “I can do that.”
“Let’s get to that then,” Henry said. “I want Douglas out of danger before nightfall.”
“I’m going with you,” Alex said abruptly, but when Henry began to protest, she drowned him out. “Don’t try. I’ll be going with or without you. Better with, don’t you think?”
