Druid's Bane

by Phillip Henderson

  “What do you say?” Orson asked, his sword pressed against the throat of a terrified soldier who was kneeling in front of him. The man was wetting himself. Kane screwed up his nose in disgust. Get them all outside. You and you, come with me.”

  Kane kicked Lynton in the face with the heel of his boot, shattering his nose, and then strode down the hallway, his sword still firmly in hand and blood dripping from its wet point. Orson shouted orders and then caught up at a run. They crossed an atrium at the end of the hall, and ignoring the staircase to the right that led the way to the guest sleeping chambers on the second leave, Kane turned into an adjacent passage. He knew this building well having stayed here often while the slave keep was being built. The door to the trophy room was just head, a bear’s head mounted above its solid oak lintel. Sir Glyd and two retainers were waiting for them, ready to bar the way with steel.

  Kane pointed his sword at them, bellowing, “Yield or die!”

  All three men chose the former, tossing down their weapons and falling on their knees. Kane booted the knight in the head as he passed; calling him coward, and then he nodded at Orson and the two black robed men with him, who immediately threw themselves at the door to Helidon’s trophy room. With their blood afire, they shouldered it open with little trouble, smashing the lock and sending the door crashing against the wall.

  Inside, three hard-faced mariners were rising from their seats at a highly polished long table that dominated the sizeable stone chamber, hands going to sword scabbards at the hip. But Helidon lifted an arm, halting them.

  “How dare you barge in here like this,” he bellowed. “I don’t care what your station. There is such a thing as common courtesy.” The man’s toad-like features were pressed into a defiant scowl as he stood in front of an enormous stone hearth at the rear of the chamber, his plump, bejewelled fingers wrapped around a glass of wine. There was also confusion in his eyes as if he could not figure how Kane had managed to get passed his retainer of men.

  Kane paid no heed and as he stormed across the room, the old merchant’s expression gave way to fear. He dropped his wine glass and cringed in terror as Kane lifted his blood-soaked sword and struck him across the head with the flat of the weapon. The blow sent the fat old fool to the ground and brought a shrieking protest from his eldest daughter. Kane swung to meet her and drew her up with the point of his sword under her dainty chin. The three sea captains moved to protect their master and his daughter, but Orson and his men, coupled with the blade at Lady Catherine’s throat, offered an insurmountable barrier and they grudgingly relented, lowering their swords and tossing them aside.

  “Get them out of here,” Kane ordered as he shoved the lady toward Orson and placed the blade of his sword on Helidon’s shoulder. Mr. Pelton was cowering in a chair by the fireplace, and a jerk of Kane’s chin sent the bookkeeper scurrying to join those exiting the chamber.

  As Orson marshalled the three captains into the hallway, Lady Catherine broke from his grip and ran to her father’s side. “I will not leave him alone with one as monstrous and arrogant as you.”

  The defiance in her clear blue eyes was too much like Danielle’s to receive anything but the back of Kane’s hand. The sharp blow sent the girl to her knees and set the three captains’ cursing their impotence.

  When the door closed, Helidon said from where he sat on the floor, now comforting his weeping daughter, “How dare you!”

  Kane wiped the blood from his sword and returned the weapon to its scabbard. “Don’t play the injured party with me, you filthy pig. Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  “What in Vellum’s name are you talking about?”

  Kane reached into his coat and cast the letter at the toes of Helidon’s velvet slippers. The letter landed so that the Helidon seal was clear enough. Recognition of what lay there quickly washed the defiance from the merchant’s face, and when he deemed to meet Kane’s gaze again, there was fear and guilt in his eyes, just as Kane expected there would be.

  “You look to betray me. You’re a coward, Helidon, and I don’t know what sickens me more,” Kane said.

  The comment clearly pricked the old lord’s pride for his scowl returned immediately, but now it was merely begrudging and indignant rather than defiant. He fingered the bump on his head as he pulled his bulk from the floor. “I was looking to protect what is mine before there is nothing left to protect,” he accused. “A man would be mad to do otherwise.”

  “Don’t wrap folly and weakness in robes of honour,” Kane warned.

  Helidon flared at that. “Damn you! It’s I who has carried all the bloody cost of this venture, and much more than was agreed too, and I alone have borne the risk.” Kane walked to a side table to pour himself a drink from the old merchant’s generous supply of fine wines. Helidon’s snivelling injured tone made his head ache, and the urge to kill this man wasn’t yet spent. Unfortunately they still needed him.

  “First, you negotiate away a tenth of our profits, and then another twenty percent. Your one hundred mercenaries are suddenly three hundred, their wages twice what we agreed to, and you promised you would have this reform bill passed a month ago. All the while your sister gets ever closer to discovering our plans like the little wasp nay, bitch of a hound she is—and now this: two-thirds of our merchandise lost in the first three shipments. Worse, in case you’re interested, Captains Brookes and Chambers inform me that my flagship and three other vessels foundered in a storm a week ago and went down with all hands. As for the fate of the other three vessels that left Marring Delta two months ago, we know not, though I suspect the worst. So damn you! I intended to be civil about this. I was going to inform you of my intent this evening at dinner, and if you had agreed to find yourself another merchant to carry the cargo, that letter would have been destroyed immediately. It was the only way to force your hand.”

  Kane laughed humourlessly. “I notice you didn’t name his Eminence in your letter.” For some reason, this fact stung him.

  “We simply wanted out of this. Nothing more,” Helidon said, a quiver in his voice.

  “It would be easy to find another merchant to carry the slaves,” Lady Catherine put in fearfully, “and perhaps at less cost. Please, let my father go. He has lost enough already. We would not betray you.”

  Kane chuckled, his eyes closed as he massaged his temples. “I offer you the opportunity to earn more gold in the next two years than your family has earned in the last ninety, and this is the way I’m repaid? Do you think I would be fool enough just to let you walk away with what you know?” Kane downed his drink in one gulp and approached the table. There he banged the cup down, making both his captives jump, which was indeed what they were, captives, and they knew it well enough. “This is the way I see it, sir. You will continue with your obligation as agreed, or I will bleed your kin, one by one, and then force your captains and their crews to do my bidding with your life as the bargaining chip. Do you understand your predicament?”

  When the old merchant hesitated in his reply, Kane drew his sword and aimed the point at Lady Catherine’s throat, the point hovering a hair’s breadth from her pallid skin. “Answer wisely, man.”

  “Yes, damn it. Yes, I understand.”

  “Very good.” Kane transferred the edge of his blade to Helidon’s flabby cheek, making the man straighten and wince. “And be forewarned, sir. There are three hundred mercenaries on this estate, every one of them loyal to me, and the number of spies his Eminence has watching you and your kin should not be underestimated either. So, if you try this sort of foolery again, there will be no leniency. Do we understand each other?”

  “Yes.”

  Then Kane cut him, for a scar is always a good reminder. The merchant gave a sharp cry and clamped a hand over his bloodied cheek. There was only fear in his little piggy eyes as they met Kane’s again. Even his daughter, who gave a cry and snatched a handkerchief from her dress and pressed it to the wound, held her tongue for once and kept her head bowed. Kane ret
urned his sword to its scabbard. He had made his point, and it was clear Helidon understood his position now and they would have no more trouble out of him.

  “It is not a wise man who listens to the prattle of dim-witted daughters and snivelling bookkeepers.”

  “Of course.”

  “Then I accept your word as your bond. You will continue as planned. The next consignment is to arrive here according to the schedule we agreed to previously.”

  “Of course.”

  Kane finished the wine in his glass before saying, “Good. Then I’m more than content to put this unfortunate incident behind us. However, I do not bluff, Helidon. If you do anything stupid again, Mr. Irwin will know what to do. Oh, and while I am thinking of it. I want the mercenaries paid a quarter-sovereign bonus on top of the wages you have yet to distribute. Will that pose a problem?”

  There was a hint of anger in the merchant’s face once again, but he quickly hid it and shook his head. “I’ll see that it is done.”

  “Excellent.” Kane flashed the old merchant a smile, and acknowledged his daughter with a nod before heading for the door. He drew up there adding, “You should also know that His Eminence has agreed to absorb half of the losses we have incurred negotiating a majority in the General Council. You’ll only have to find the remaining half. What say you to that?”

  “Very generous of him.”

  “Indeed. Now, I won’t be able to stay. Lord Llewellyn and I will be leaving for Illandia first thing in the morning, and I want an early start. So I will be returning to your villa and enjoying its hospitality for the night. You have likely heard that my doting father has rejected his Eminence’s petition to keep my sister from competing in the Illandia tournament?”

  “Yes, the news has reached us.”

  Yes and how you’d celebrate if the little bitch beat me, Kane thought.

  “Then you’ll know that in little over a week, I have to teach a certain hound, as you rightfully called her, a painful lesson in humility.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Fren had expected to hear the horse and rider make their way slowly through the forest to her cottage on the last day before the final bout of the Illandian Tournament, and she didn’t need her trusty bones or a vision from Maig to know that it was Kane, and that he was deeply worried about the contest he was to face on the morrow.

  She smiled to herself as she sprinkled some ground lifron root into the pot that was slowly coming to a boil over her humble dirt hearth. It had been a long road they had travelled together, she and the king’s second son. She had delivered him into the world on a stormy winter’s night more than twenty-one years past, and just as the Prophecy of the Fall said he would, he had followed on the heels of his sister. But it was as he took his first breath and began to scream that Fren saw the mark on his little chest and knew beyond doubt he was the one of prophecy. The thrill of that moment still lingered as freshly as if his birth were yesterday. She remembered how excited the druid elders had been when she shared the news.

  During the years that followed, she had been the young prince’s nursemaid, and they had grown inseparable—at least until the Lord Protector found out that Larnian blood ran in her veins and she had been forced to abandon her charge and flee for her life. But even then, she and Kane had remained close friends. She always watched over him from the shadows, waiting for the fates to run their course and for the time to arrive when she should make the young prince aware of his destiny. It had been a long and tortuous path, and it would twist and turn still, but at last that fated time was approaching, and the old excitement she had felt on the day of his birth was flaring up once more.

  The door creaked open behind her, and she turned, wiping her hands on her apron. Kane walked in and slumped down on the wooden bench by the soot-blackened hearth. He looked exhausted. His chin was dark with stubble, and his robes, usually so immaculate, were rumpled and soiled. He also stank of liquor, pipe smoke, and whoring.

  “You hardly seem a man who’ll be defending his title tomorrow.”

  “Hmmm, if you had seen her fight, you’d understand,” Kane replied sullenly as he accepted a mug of ahba tea. “You have no doubt heard of her successes across the week and that I now face her in the final?”

  “I have, and yet, here you sat a week ago, saying she could not win a match.”

  “Oh, ha, most amusing. Perhaps you’d like to place a bet like everyone else.” He shook his head despondently. “She’s magnificent, Fren. In all the tournaments I have attended, I’ve seldom seen such speed in swordplay! She’s on her opponents before they know it, and then beyond their reach before they can strike at her in turn. I don’t know if I can take her, even with my natural advantages.”

  “Yet I hear she lost yesterday and has bruised ribs for her effort. Surely that’ll help you.”

  Kane snorted at the suggestion. “She lost a match, not the contest, and only because dear Eden happened to arrive back from Vafusolum earlier than expected and his presence threw her off. You know how opposed our crown prince is to his little sister competing in the commoner’s tournament.”

  Fren nodded as she ground up some widow leaves in a stone mortar. “Her injuries won’t help you, then?”

  “Perhaps if Lord Graves had been so good as to lop off her sword arm…”

  Fren chuckled despite Kane’s cutting tone.

  “I’m not speaking in bloody jest, hag,” Kane hissed as he got to his feet and slammed the empty mug down beside her. Unperturbed by his temper, Fren watched as he made his way to the entrance and stood in the doorway to her humble cottage. She could see the tension in his broad shoulders and felt more than a little sympathy. The poor lad could not know that the root of the antipathy he felt for his sister ran much deeper than sibling rivalry, that the fates had pitted the two against each other more than a thousand years ago. But the time was nearing when he would understand all.

  “Her time will come, Kane. You can’t tempt fate as she does without angering the gods sooner or later.”

  “Damn your gods and hers also!” he replied peevishly. “I only hope her luck fails tomorrow and mine holds. If I can just land a few blows to slow her down, maybe then I might be able to take her.”

  Fren grinned at the suggestion. His atheism had always amused her. “Yet you come here to find out the truth of your plan and, I suspect, more.” She poured the mashed widow leaves into an old chipped bowl, added a sprinkling of ground drel root, and poured in some limmerment. “So, are you going to ask me? Or are you too proud? Frankly, I don’t care either way. These tournaments, and those who make them their business, have always struck me as indulgent and frivolous. They aren’t worthy of you, my young lord, for they take your attention away from more important matters,” she added pointedly.

  Kane grimaced and massaged his brow for a while, then said wearily, “I’d be inclined to agree with you if it weren’t for the simple fact that my sister is likely to steal my title away from me tomorrow in front of all Illandia.” He glanced back at her. “So, have you heard anything from the Helidon estate in the last couple of days that should have me worrying in that direction as well?”

  She was pouring bat’s blood into the bowl, and when she glanced up he was frowning with distaste at the smell. It was a habit with him—he had always found her work in such things repugnant. She had to smile at that, too, for she knew that his reaction would change with time—certainly Maig wouldn’t have chosen him as the new Hand if he was always to be so squeamish.

  “The bones suggest that your little visit a few weeks ago has had an enduring effect on the old merchant. Five more of his ships left for Zemithia yesterday evening. Word of their departure should have reached the Archbishop here in Illandia this morning. I believe he has men out looking for you this very moment. So I suggest you look surprised when they find you.”

  Kane sniffed and nodded, clearly relieved, and then he changed the subject. “Speaking of the old vulture, have you found out why he was so
eager to be a part of my venture?”

  It was another of his pet subjects. Fren shrugged. “There are whispers, but little else. You know how hard it is for the bones to perceive that man’s motivations.”

  In truth, she, like all the members of the Larniusian Druid Council, knew exactly what the Archbishop was up to. In fact, they had even had a part in setting him on his present course, but it wasn’t yet time to enlighten the young prince on such matters.

  Kane chuckled and walked to the hearth. “You’re about as enigmatic as he is sometimes, Fren, and I do wonder why I trust you.”

  She didn’t reply. She merely watched as he picked up a yellowed human skull from the crumbling mantel and examined it.

  “So the venture remains safe, then?” he asked, putting the skull down and coming back to the table.

  “It’s safe for the time being. Your father and his inner council, particularly your sister, remain determined as ever to discover what it is you and your allies are about of late. The question is creating quite a rift between your sister and father, it seems. The last meeting ended in a yelling match and your sister storming out. As for the nobility, they are fearful, but the bones say they’ll stay true to their agreement with you.”

  “Very good. Those are two less things I have to worry about.”

  She watched him walk to the door again and stand there, clenching and unclenching his right hand as he gazed out on the woods. A little smile touched her lips.

  After a short while, his shoulders squared and he turned around. “So tomorrow, then—did the bones have anything to say about how that might turn out?”

  Fren continued busying herself with her work. She’d been waiting for him to ask, and she couldn’t help but smile openly now. Partly because she found Kane’s sudden reliance on things not of blood and bone amusing, and even a little encouraging, but mostly because what she had seen as she cast her bones in the ashes at dawn had pleased her greatly, just as it had pleased her colleagues. “Maig says that you will draw your sister’s blood tomorrow.”