Druid's Bane

by Phillip Henderson

  As ambassadors for their respective courts they were due to leave for the tri-monthly meeting of the Grand Assembly of Realms in the morning.

  Faith’s mood lightened as she brought her horse around and she even managed a grudging smile. “I think that is a good idea. Leefton will agree easily enough, I’m sure.” He smile turned lascivious as they head off down the track. “Michael will complain of course, he says he sees too little of me already.”

  “So let him complain. My spoilt little brother will have you all night.” Danielle flashed her friend a telling grin; “With any luck he’ll tire you out some.”

  Faith laughed as if that was unlikely.

  Their smiles vanished and conversation stopped abruptly when a scuffle of paws and a deep growl erupted behind them.

  Danielle drew her whickering horse steady and glanced over her shoulder to find that Black had jumped up onto a large boulder. His teeth were bared and his yellow eyes were fixed on the woods yonder with a disturbing intensity.

  Faith immediately drew her real sword from a scabbard hung from her saddle. “What is it, boy?”

  Oddly, the breeze had died, leaving the woods eerily still.

  Feeling the sudden flush of fear, Danielle drew her sword and bellowed to her guards that they should come to her at once.

  CHAPTER TWO

  “Keep your sword close,” Faith said, dismounting from her horse. She shushed Black with a reassuring pat and a few quiet words, while her studied attention remained fixed on the woods around them.

  Danielle stayed in the saddle, listening, trying to hear what might have set Black off so thoroughly. A quiet growl was still issuing from in his throat, yet there was nothing in these woods that should have upset him so.

  Her guards had remounted, she could hear them crashing through the woods behind her, were making short work of the distance from the riverbank, clearly hurried by the urgency in her command.

  Sir Ambry was first to arrive, the worry lines on his face as deep as ever. He reined in his mount and signalled to his men to form up a wide perimeter around their royal lady and Corenbald’s princess. Without a word, swords were drawn in a flurry of ringing steel and the knights urged their mounts forward, taking up positions around the clearing. All of them watched the woods, waiting and listening, though clearly knew not what for.

  “What’s the matter, Milady?” Ambry asked. Confusion marred his sweaty brow.

  Faith shushed them all and returned her gaze to the woods.

  As far as Danielle could tell, all there was to hear were the honking of geese out on the river and the melodic song of several black Jays at play somewhere in the treetops above. She was about to say as much when something in the distance touched the edges of her hearing. She listened again and then it reached her on a gentle breeze. She knew exactly what had provoked Black’s fury—and it annoyed her equally.

  “Hounds,” she said, breaking the quiet. Several men of her retainer confirmed they heard as much too, very distant but definitely a pack of baying hounds.

  Faith looked bewildered. “I thought it was illegal to hunt in a royal forest in Arkaelyon?”

  “It is,” Danielle said, her ire rising with considerable speed. She had presented the royal decree declaring as much to Arkaelyon’s General Council of Nobles just over a year past, and happily weathered the outrage the nobles had heaped on her from their benches before her father silenced them with the news the matter would be taken before the High Council and decided there.

  “Where do you think they are?” she asked.

  The barking, while distant was growing louder. But the forest breeze and the lay of the land made it difficult to determine actual distance and direction, at least in Danielle’s mind.

  It was Faith who replied. “I’d say they’re on the other side of the ridge, perhaps heading east toward the outskirts of Illandia, though it’s hard to be sure.”

  “I agree,” Sir Ambry said. “The breeze is coming from the south. Of course, Milady, that does not mean they’re necessarily on the royal reserve. They could be on the highway or adjoining lands, or even further afield—Lord Gilmore’s woods even.”

  “Well, if they are, they’ll be quite safe, won’t they?” Danielle said, wheeling her horse towards the forest.

  “Perhaps it would be best if you left the matter to me, Milady,” Sir Ambry suggested quickly. “I’ll happily see that no hunting party is trespassing on the royal reserve. And if they are, have them charged accordingly.”

  Danielle had seen the look pass between her friend and the old knight, and ignoring the suggestion, she spurred her horse between two of her guards and rode hard as she could for the top of the nearest ridge, ducking branches and swerving in and out between the trees. Faith was first to catch up. Her black hair danced around her face and shoulders.

  “What do you intend,” she called out as they crashed through the undergrowth.

  It was obvious she was worried.

  “To find out where they are.”

  “And then?”

  “I guess that depends on whether they are in the royal woods or not.”

  “Dee, don’t do anything foolish. Please.”

  “I won’t.”

  Danielle spotted what she was looking for through the foliage ahead; the stone ruin of the old druid watchtower that over looked the area for miles around. She made the sign of protection as her horse slowed and whickered, refusing to tread any closer to the unholy stones. Ignoring the superstitious chill that touched her skin she dismounted and continued on foot, pushing through the last of the fern and vines as quickly as she could. Faith was at her shoulder, her look making it clear they should not dally here any longer than was necessary. It had been two hundred years since the Larniusian druid’s had been wiped out. But the stories of the butchery and blood worship they had engaged in at places like this was very much alive in the collective consciousness.

  Sir Ambry and the rest of her guard were dismounting in the woods behind them, armour and saddling rattling loud enough to wake the dead.

  “Your father would not be pleased if he knew you were here,” the old knight called after them.

  “We won’t be here long.” Danielle leapt up a slide of fallen, moss-covered stones to squeeze inside the ruin through an arched window on the second story. The stench of crows made her wince in disgust as she gingerly stepped along a ledge, making for the remains of the tower’s stone staircase. She could hear the hounds baying frantically somewhere off in the distance. Their high-pitched yelps were a sure sign that some poor beast had been cornered. The only consolation was that they didn’t seem to be moving and would be easy to spot and track down because of it.

  Reaching the highest point of the ruin Danielle shielded her eyes against the sun. She could see across the forested landscape as far as the dusty Illandian highway that ran along the southern boundary of the royal woods, and the patchwork of crop fields that occupied the undulating hills beyond. Even the distant spires and towers of Illandia rose above a wooded ridge to the east. But be damned if she could see where the yelping was coming from.

  “There.” Faith pointed at a gap in the forest canopy perhaps two mile away. Danielle squinted in that direction and spotted a great deal of movement beneath the trees on the far side of a small sparkling brook. The distance was too great to tell who or how many riders there were. But the sight was enough to confirm there was a hunting party trespassing on her father’s lands.

  Sir Ambry was waiting as they clambered down the slide of broken stones. Danielle answered his questioning look with, “Follow me.”

  “Milady, really. I must protest. Your father would not be pleased to know that his daughter was involved in delivering his justice.”

  Danielle didn’t offer a reply as she took the reins of her horse and climbed back into the saddle. She was too scared she would fly at him her temper was so provoked.

  Sir Ambry shifted his plea to Faith. “Lady Galloway, would you please s
ay something?”

  Faith said nothing until she was settled back in the saddle. And even then she only offered a shrug. “Your lady has the right … nay, she is duty bound to defend her father’s lands as equally and vehemently as if she were anyone of her brothers. Just as you are duty bound to protect her, Sir Ambry.”

  The last was said pointedly. Danielle smiled, thankful for the support, then spurred her mare back into the woods and down the southern side of the ridge. The undergrowth beneath the leafy canopy of birch and oak trees was sparse here and did little to slow their headlong gallop. As the lay of the land began to level out the trees thinned and they found themselves galloping across wooded meadow, rapidly moving from grassy clearings bright in sunlight to the dappled shade of tree locks. It wasn’t long before the sunlit brook appeared passed the trees ahead and the hunting party came into plain view on the far bank. It wasn’t large by usual standards, perhaps only forty men and two-dozen dogs. Danielle spotted the young lord who was likely in charge of this misconduct and she bristled all the more.

  “Edgar Gilmore!” she shouted across to Faith. “I half suspected that haughty prig or his father would be involved.”

  The Gilmores owned most of the productive lands and flourmills from Illandia’s western outskirts to the crossroads settlement fifty miles downriver from Illandia’s wharves. Edgar, like his father, Lord Roughan Gilmore, was an avid hunting enthusiast and had been extremely vocal in his opposition to the royal decree removing the right of the gentry to hunt these woods. He was also an arrogant brute, a staunch Orthodox Goddian and stalwart of the High Church of Arkaelyon—and as much a contradiction to virtue as his hypocritical father. Moreover, like many of his peerage, he seemed to think it his inalienable right to flout the law.

  “Despicable, bastard, do you see what they are hunting?” Faith said.

  Danielle had and she was furious. More than furious!

  Two foremen had dismounted and were dragging a young woman and an elderly man to their feet at the edge of the brook. The prisoners looked to be peasants. Their humble homespun clothing was wet, muddy and torn and they cowered as the dogs snapped and snarled at them. The kennel master and attendants were laughing as they pulled the animals away as were the mounted lords. If that wasn’t bad enough another foreman had a coil of rope in hand and was gesturing the prisoners toward a large fir tree. Edgar had dismounted and stood nearby, shaking out his whip and laughing and joking with his lordly companions.

  Too angry for words and ignoring a shouted word of caution from Faith, Danielle kicked her mount to a full gallop. The long grass rushed past the legs of her horse and then they were charging across the shallow brook in a shower of sunlit spray. With the din the hounds were raising, her approach went undetected until the last moment, when Lord Boren Tailor, one of Gilmore’s frequent companions, twisted in his saddle and glanced back over his shoulder. The grin on his loutish face changed to shock and alarm on seeing the approaching horses and whom they bore, but the shout of warning that burst from his gaping mouth was to little avail, for Danielle was already on them.

  She drew her sword from its scabbard and rode right through the middle of the hunting party, sending men and dogs scattering for cover. She spotted Edgar making a dash for the cover of a large oak tree and reined her horse after him. Before he found safety she had covered the distance. She lifted her sword and he shrieked and threw up an arm in a futile effort to fend off the blow. The flat of her weapon took him across the back, driving the air from his lungs and sending him sprawling to the ground in a shower of dead leaves and flying coat tails.

  Danielle slowed her mount and wheeled back around. Sir Ambry drew up beside her while her other knights formed a wider circle of steel around her. Faith had already swung down from her mount, grabbed the waterskin from her saddle and was going to the aid of the two harassed peasants who were huddled beside a tree trunk. Two of Danielle’s knights swung down and followed her, offering protection. Black, meanwhile, had launched into the pack of hounds. He now held the lead dog dead in his jaws and was shaking it like a rat, his vicious snarls sending the rest of the pack skulking back into the woods with their tails low and yelping madly.

  Every other man in the company was finding his feet, emerging from the woods or trying to rein in a startled horse, and every one of them watched the king’s daughter with a mix of guilt and fear.

  But Danielle’s attention was firmly fixed on Edgar as he clambered to his feet. He looked slightly dazed, though his outrage was unmistakable.

  Danielle got in before he found his tongue. “How dare you, sir. To treat your dependents with such cruelty and do so on my father’s lands is intolerable. To say nothing of illegal.”

  “You struck me!” Edgar bellowed, his pox scared face red with fury. His fist clenched around his whip. The gesture provoked ringing steel and Sir Ambry to say, “That would be most unwise, Milord.”

  “Unwise! It’s we that need protection from her, knight.” He paused, glancing around at the knights watching him and then calming himself a little he added snarkily, “Yes, you’re right, of course. Why should I risk my neck, when the General Council will see this wasp is rightfully punished and without fear of retribution.”

  Danielle snickered in disgust. “Do not play the innocent with me, Lord Edgar. You are trespassing on my father’s lands and engaged in a cruelty that I will not tolerate, and I will have an explanation.”

  “Trespass and cruelty?” Edgar seemed to find that absurd. “You presume too much, Milady…”

  “Whatever your princess may assume, sir, you will all show her due respect,” Faith demanded.

  “On your knees,” Ambry demanded.

  There was a pause, and then Faith raised her eyebrows and said, “Well?” and every man of Edgar’s party went down on bended knee, albeit some more reluctantly than others.

  “Now, rise and explain yourself,” Danielle commanded from astride her mount.

  “This is no hunt, Milady,” Edgar said. Resentment still quivered in his voice. “These two peasants belong to one of my father’s villages, one not far from here. Their family has been indentured to the Gilmore house for generations. Now, after all we have done for them, they repay our protection and provision by running. I intend to see them punished and returned to their duties before the day is out, as I am rightfully entitled…”

  Danielle cut him short with icy authority. “You will not hunt beast or man on my father’s lands whatever the reason might be.”

  “Yes, I forgot. You prefer these forests be havens to runaways, vagabonds and bandits.”

  Ignoring Edgar’s retort, Danielle turned her attention to the two peasants Faith was attending to. “Good man, why did you flee your master’s estate?” she called out kindly.

  “It matters not why they ran,” Edgar broke in. “They owe service to my father’s house and I will have them back. You know the law, Milady. You cannot prevent me from taking what is rightfully mine. The laws of dependency and service supersede the laws of trespass.”

  Danielle shouted at him to be silent. She had seen what looked to be fear in his eyes and she wanted to know why. Her attention back on the two harrowed peasants, she said, “Please, good sir, speak freely. You and the maid have my protection, I promise you.”

  The old man stood gingerly, using Faith’s arm for support, and his daughter rose beside him, as timid as a frightened deer. Danielle’s presence seemed to give the aged fellow courage and after bowing to her he straightened up with what dignity he could muster.

  “Rape, Milady,” he said, undeterred by the fury building on his master’s face. “His lordship, there, raped my daughter three times in the last month. Now he wants to take her from me to live in the manor house as a household servant. I have only Maya left since the winter-pox came to our village three years past and took my good wife and two sons and their families, and I will not lose her to this devil whatever the cost to me.”

  “Is this true, madam?” Danie
lle asked the old man’s daughter.

  The girl nodded fearfully, tears springing into her eyes.

  “I will not stand for this,” Edgar said with his usual arrogance. “These are vicious lies and hardly unexpected from two runaways such as these. They are playing on your womanly heart, Milady, to get free of their rightful punishment. I ask that you show wisdom in this matter and return my charges to me. You have my apology that this business was allowed to interfere with your morning’s leisure, and now, with your leave, I’ll take what is mine and we will be on our way. And I will happily forget that you struck me with your sword.”

  “Do you know the penalty for misusing one of your dependants, Edgar?” Danielle asked, fighting to keep her voice level.

  “Milady, you have no proof. It’s his word against mine.”

  “And his word, or hers, I would take over yours every time, though I know these people not. It is sufficient that I know you, sir.”

  Edgar nodded and stepped back, a hardness clouding his harsh features. “Yes, but it is the General Council of nobles who must be convinced that there was any wrong done to these two cretins, not you.”

  Danielle knew she would have no justice there, not for two peasants bonded to the Gilmore household. But there was another way to stop this brutality, at least for these two. “Say what you will. It matters not. My mind is made up. These two are injured and on my lands so they will be coming with me.”

  Edgar blinked at her, his mouth agape for a moment, before thundering, “You can not do this! The law is clear…”

  “Oh, I haven’t finished,” she shouted over the top of him. “If they wish it so, when their wounds have healed they will not be returned to their service at the Gilmore estate.”