Maig's Hand

by Phillip Henderson

  He understood why she was shivering and sharing her fear he put the journal back down and went over and hugged her. She clung to him and bit back a sob, struggling to stay composed.

  “It’s going to be alright, I promise,” James said. He kissed her cheek. “You dress first. You’re cold and need to warm up. We can do this then. Your father will take a little while to get here.”

  She took a few calming breaths and nodded, before going in behind her changing screen.

  James was trying to think through what had just happened. “This thing said you’d know yourself when you woke?”

  “It’s a man and he lied. Again.”

  “He called you Druid’s Bane, though, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “So it means you no harm? It’s on our side? You said it was benevolent in your last dream.”

  “It violated my chamber and person and did so against my will. What do you think?”

  He could hear the anger creeping back into her voice again.

  “So what are we supposed to do?” He felt utterly impotent. How in Vellum’s cursed name do I protect her against such things as this?

  “We do what he asks,” was Danielle’s less than enthusiastic reply. “At least to a point. There are certain things I won’t be moved on.”

  “Such as?”

  Danielle stepped out from behind the wicker screen and sat down on the bed. She had pulled on riding trousers and an intricately stitched white duelling shirt. The latter wasn’t tucked in and only a few buttons had been done up to cover her breasts. After securing her wet bedraggled hair she lay back on the bed with a frustrated sigh and opened her shirt enough so he could see the blue tattoo on the pallid skin of her flat stomach. “Please, just draw it and hurry.”

  Conscious they were not going to be alone for long, and not wanting to add to her misery James took up the journal and quill and began to draw. Danielle was staring glumly up at the canopy of her bed and as James drew a black copy of the blue original he saw the tears glide from her eyes and fall into her hair. The sight of her so unhappy tore at him. It didn’t help either that she clearly was not telling him half of what she knew.

  “Joseph will know what to do,” James said. He finished the sketch and blew on the ink to help dry it.

  “I’m not so sure.”

  He frowned. “What do you mean?”

  When she shook her head as if words were too much, he crossed the room. Danielle quickly sat up and put out a hand, stopping him from comforting her. “Please don’t.”

  She shuffled off the bed and began to do up the rest of the buttons on her shirt. “I just need to know I have your loyalty?”

  “You have much more than my loyalty. You know that.”

  “You may not say as much when you hear what I must do.”

  The resignation and fear in her face bothered him greatly, but he said what needed to be said. He told her the truth. “Whatever you have to do, I’m with you.”

  He reached out and caught her hands, making her look at him. “Dee, I mean it.”

  “I know.” She didn’t look convinced but before he could address that, voices came to them faintly from outside. It was the king and it sounded as if he’d just stepped out onto the balcony from James’ chambers.

  Danielle placed a kiss on his lips and ducked back in behind the changing screen as a rap came at the window. Her father called out to her, his voice strained with worry.

  “I’m fine, father. Go to my day chamber. I’ll be there in a moment,” she called back.

  “Are you alright?” he asked, as if he didn’t believe her.

  “Yes. Are Joseph and Warren with you?”

  “We’re here, lass.”

  “Look at the walls of my day chamber, Joseph. I need to know if you or Warren recognise the language.”

  ***

  Danielle quickly pulled on a doublet and slipped on a pair of riding boots before heading for the door. James fell in beside her, glum faced and silent. She knew she owed him an explanation, but this was not the time. Once she had closed the door to her bedchamber she turned to him. His hair was dishevelled; face covered in dust and he was naked to the waist.

  “You should change. We will be leaving as soon as I’m done here.”

  “Leaving?”

  She pressed her lips to his before he could say more. “You promised you’d support me.”

  He nodded, and she took the diary from his hand and went down the hall alone.

  Torches had been lit in her day chamber, lighting the rubble-strewn room. Her father was attired in a night robe, interrogating the duty sergeant. Joseph and Warren were standing in quiet conversation over by what remained of the fireplace. Their attention was turned to the script chiselled into the stone walls, and while she couldn’t see their faces, she suspected they recognised the language.

  Her father looked up at her approach and immediately came forward to embrace her tightly. “Lass, are you sure you’re all right?”

  His puzzlement and trepidation were understandable with the amount of damage that had been done to her beloved chambers.

  “I’m fine, father,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

  The king glanced behind her and frowned. “Where is James?”

  “I sent him to change.”

  “Dee, what happened here?” Joseph called out.

  She felt a surge of anger towards her two aged mentors. “It seems my dreams of late have credence after all. I had a visitation from a man called Cargius. You know of him of course.”

  They both frowned and came forward, eyes a little too interested.

  “Cargius Klotium?”

  Her father frowned heavily and followed her gaze to Joseph and Warren. “You know the man who did this to my daughter’s chamber?”

  Joseph considered her a moment then said, “Not exactly a man, your majesty. What your daughter seems to be suggesting is the culprit here is a member of the last Kathiusian Druid Council.”

  “What?” Her father looked bewildered and a little worried for his daughter’s sanity. “He’d have to be nigh on a thousand years old. More than a thousand years old. Danielle, are you sure?”

  “Quite, sure, Father,” she replied still glaring at Joseph and Warren.

  The king looked to Joseph and Warren for confirmation again.

  Both aged priests were grey faced but Danielle wasn’t going to let them off the hook that easily. “Perhaps you could tell my father what language this is?”

  “And what language do you think this is, Milady?” Warren asked.

  “Durean.”

  Their bushy white eyebrows rose simultaneously.

  Joseph hobbled up to her. “Can you read it?”

  She looked up at the first few lines and recited them as smoothly as any of the seven languages she was fluent in. The odd sounding tongue echoed eerily around the chamber as she spoke and left a chill on her skin. It seemed she wasn’t alone for both Warren and Joseph quickly made the sign of protection.

  “Would one of you please tell me what in Vellum’s name is going on here? And what tongue is Durean?” her father demanded.

  Joseph’s gaze went to the walls for a moment and then he began to speak, “Durean was the language of the Kathiusian Druid Council, your majesty, a high and refined dialect of Trollic. Larnius and his kind wiped it from existence during the Long Terror mostly to protect the Book of Minion, which is known to be written in this tongue. A small collection of volumes and scrolls have survived the destruction of time, but there are only five people in the world that can make any sense of this language and even then, not enough to afford a trustworthy translation. And none of those five people can speak it. It seems there are now six of us and the last of our membership is fluent.”

  Her father looked at her now and she wasn’t sure she liked the hint of fear in his eyes. “What does it say, Danielle?”

  She could taste bile at the back of her throat as she began to give a selective overv
iew of the writings. “It says that I am Druid’s Bane. It confirms the prophecy I dreamt of and it summons me to what is called a path of enlightenment at a place called Marahbaku. And I have to be there before noon today.”

  “Marahbaku? I’ve never heard of it,” her father said.

  Neither had Danielle. Like her father she looked to Joseph and Warren, hoping for answers.

  Warren glanced knowingly at Joseph and then said, “I don’t mean to alarm you your majesty but Marahbaku is more commonly known as the Ra’majum,”

  Ra’majum. Danielle swallowed her fear, or tried to as the name hung ominously in the quiet and they all stared at each other.

  Ra’majum, or Marahbaku, was situated at the headwater of the Illandian River, and known to have been the most notorious of the Larnian temples that had been built for the worship of the dark Goddess during the first century of the Long Terror. As the stories went, it was believed to be the largest temple in Arkaelyon and only equalled by the one built in Vafusolum. Countless souls had been led up there in chains to be sacrificed on Maig’s altar. It was said that an entire gorge had been filled with the bones of the victims, and the blood of the monthly sacrifice had been so plentiful that it had turned the Illandian River red and set the fish into a frenzy. It was little more than a ruin now, but even after two hundred years since the end of the Long Terror it wasn’t a place anyone sort out willingly. Even hunters who garnered their livelihood from the forested foothills of the Eastern Mountains gave that vale a very wide berth. And those who had ventured there spoke dark tales upon their return.

  “Ra’majum? Are you sure?” Father said, finally finding his voice. He shook his head in disbelief, overwhelmed by all this, and looked to the others standing amid the debris. “Am I the only one who finds it a little dubious that a Kathiusian druid would choose a place as defiled as that ruin for a ceremony, let alone that this man is likely a thousand years old? Are you sure this isn’t Fren’s doing? It is certainly sufficiently insane to be of her conjuring.”

  “It’s possible that Cargius is alive, Milord, despite his age,” Joseph said, though reluctantly.

  “Then enlighten me,” the king said.

  Danielle was equally as curious. They were talking about longevity of extraordinary length. Unbelievable length.

  “Before we get to the issue of Cargius. I can assure you this is not the work of Fren and her kin. They do not have the art to manifest the sort of power that could do such damage as this, or, I suspect, have the proficiency to use this language with such fluency.” He gestured to the room around them. “It is known to a select few that some of the elders of the last Kathiusian Council survived Larnius’ purge of the old order and that they had the touch of the First Mother in their blood, allowing for their rather extended years. The Aquarius Brotherhood tried to work with some of them over the theft of the Book of Minion. However, they wished to use it to fight the Larniusian Druids, while we wanted it destroyed. Needless to say when we disposed of it as we did there was a major falling out and there has been no communication between us for more than two centuries. Though we know that some of their numbers were present, though disguised during the siege of Amthenium that ended the Larniusian tyranny, and one of their numbers was responsible for killing Brutarius himself. A woman I believe.”

  “So why don’t they put an end to this prophecy themselves?” her father asked. “If they can kill one Hand, then why not another? And if they can do this with magic, and are so bloody wrought with power, then they’d know that my second son as this supposed new Hand will lose his head on the executioner’s block anyway in a week or so.” He looked up at the walls, eyes distrusting. “There’s too much wrong with this. Is it possible it could be a trap? That there’s someone else at play.”

  “If it is, then who that might be is beyond our knowledge and all the more frightening because of it,” Warren replied.

  “I agree with Warren, Milord. But I can’t say whether this is Kathiusian or not. Mostly because it appears to be a violation of the first law of the Kathiusian faith—the sanctity of free will. No servant of the First Mother would do this without Danielle’s permission.”

  They were all staring at her now, as if they suspected she wasn’t telling them everything. Which she wasn’t, because with what was written here and what was required of her, the absolute truth was not an option, at least not yet.

  “There are a great deal of words here, Dee, and if your translation is complete they seem very short on meaning?” Joseph said.

  Danielle opened her mouth to speak, only to close it again as James said from behind her, “Unless she willed it.”

  James approached over the debris.

  “How could she do that? She could not will something she didn’t know existed?”

  “Perhaps not in memory, Milord. But if she is Druid’s Bane, perhaps that part of her blood sort its own awakening. And it is not as if Dee hasn’t been looking ardently for answers to her dream.” James stood beside Danielle and took her hand. She was more than grateful for his support.

  “It would still be a violation of free will …”

  “Free will as we understand it.”

  “Are you suggesting my daughter and your future wife should obey this summons?”

  “All I’m saying, your majesty, is that it should be her choice.”

  Danielle flashed him a grateful smile, though inwardly she feared her choice could very well separate them forever.

  “Joseph, Warren, what say you?” Her father obviously did not like this one bit.

  Both men agreed reluctantly with James.

  Her father held his hand out to her and she went over and took it. “Do you wish to go?”

  She couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in her eyes. “Not happily, but I fear I must, father.”

  “You know more than you are saying, correct?”

  She nodded, but said no more.

  It clearly pained him but he didn’t ask any more questions.

  “If you must go to Ra’majum you’ll do so well defended. I’ll bloody well see to that.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  It was an hour after the witching hour when the farewells were had on the stairs outside Lord Cameron’s city residence and Kane followed Fren and Lea back into the carriage for the short trip through the wealthy south eastern quarter of Illandia to a newly rented apartment. Since their arrival earlier in the evening, a thick fog had risen from the Illandia Lake to cloak the city. Now the streets were dark and ominously quiet, though Kane was too busy returning Lea’s affectionate kisses to notice the curtain of mist swirling past the carriage window. The girl had quietly reaffirmed her desire to spend the night with him as they dined at Lord Henry’s table. Kane had happily accepted and no one had seemed concerned for her honour when she had announced that she would be leaving with him and Fren.

  Now he was just eager to get her to his bed. The evening’s celebrations and the day’s general turn of events had left him comfortably numb, and he didn’t care that Fren was sitting opposite them in the darkened cabin, her aged features fixed in a stony frown. That look had been growing on her for some hours now. Kane had put it down to the fact that her role as high priestess forbade her from letting fermented drink pass her lips and that she had found offence in the bawdy wine-fuelled talk that had come to dominate the evening. The best bet was to ignore her, and that wasn’t hard with a vigorous Surlemian beauty in his arms that seemed as eager to have him, as he was to have her.

  But as the carriage turned into another dark, foggy street, Fren said in a tone that matched her mood, “It is foolish to be so intemperate in one’s celebrations with so much still at risk.”

  Kane reluctantly left Lea’s warm inviting mouth and removed his hand from between her legs. “Something bothering you?”

  “This is not a time to let the folly of wine and pleasure blur your senses.” She had that matronly air about her she used whenever his actions disappointed her. Kane didn’t
appreciate it in the least. Not tonight.

  “I would think that we have grounds for some celebration?”

  “Some, yes, but you go too far. There is much work ahead of us if our plans are to succeed, and that is doubly true of you,” Fren retorted, pointedly.

  Before Kane could reply, Lea’s grip tightened on his hand and she said in his defence, “The High Priestess should not chastise the chosen Hand of Maig this way. We are at his command … to do otherwise is …”

  “Shut up child. For if the chosen Hand doesn’t take heed, these celebrations will be all for nothing.”

  Kane was perplexed. “What in Vellum’s name are you talking about? My father and sister are as good as dead, my ascension is secure, and if your fellows back there are to be believed then we also have the numbers in the field to accomplish our end. You have said as much yourself. So what have I missed that has you in such a disagreeable mood?”

  “If you think our victory will be determined solely by the sword and the manipulation of the nobles then you are truly naive.”

  Kane realised what was going on here, and it didn’t please him at all. “Or you simply haven’t yet told me all?”

  Fren didn’t seem to hear his accusation. “We have the cunning to take Arkaelyon and restore all seven of her ancient dukedoms. We will even have the might to re-establish Maig’s mantle across the entire continent. But if we are to hold them, keep them as our own; if things are to come to pass as the prophecy predicts, then …”

  “Fren, I’m not going to hear this.”

  “Then you’ll die. For as the Hand of Maig, you must know what talents run within your blood, and more, you must master them. And there is already far too little time to see that task to completion without you resisting it as well.”

  Kane laughed, shaking his head. “I have told you before, I don’t believe in gods, yours or anyone else’s, and I will not be party to your fancies. It’s bad enough that I must endure talk of Children of Light and armies of the dead and other such nonsense. I have agreed to this solely under the conditions discussed.”