Knowledge Protects (The Nememiah Chronicles Book 5)

by D. S. Williams

  “Charlotte, do not let this overwhelm you. Not now. We are poised on a knife edge as it is, and these people,” Epi surveyed the busy tables around us, “believe that having you back gives us a chance of winning.” He spoke in a low voice, ensuring his words wouldn't be overheard. “I understand how very difficult this is, and I know you're fearful of what Bran having Bloodgood's spells could mean. But if these people suspect you've lost faith in yourself – in our ability to win – it will create an impossible situation, one in which they'll have given up before we've begun.”

  “We might as well give up! What possible chance is there of us winning?” I muttered in a low hiss. “They have everything, and we have nothing! Jesus, Epi, we don't even have anywhere to live!”

  Thut leaned forward, clasping his hands together before he met my gaze, his dark brown eyes intense. “The Egyptian people survived the seven plagues, Charlotte. And they didn't have your powers, your strengths to help them fight against the dark forces which bore down upon them during the time of Enoch Bloodgood's reign of darkness.”

  “Why Egypt? What was he trying to prove?” I questioned.

  “Three thousand years ago, the pharaohs were some of the richest, most powerful beings on earth. A technologically advanced community – Egyptians were years ahead of many other civilizations. How else could they have built the pyramids, the Sphinx? Bloodgood was only ever interested in one thing, to my knowledge. Power. Not power gleaned from the ability to control other groups, to dictate his will against people – he was only interested in personal gain. More money, more… things. Belongings interested Bloodgood, and the desire to be recognized as the most powerful magical warlock in the history of the world,” Thut explained.

  “I believe that at the time of his death, when he was burned at the stake in 1590, he had some of the greatest treasures ever known in his possession. Egyptian artifacts were only a part of his collection – he stole from everyone he came across and added their treasures to his bounty,” Epi added. “And he collected magic, as he collected everything else. With a great deal of tenacity and determination. He wanted to not only be the richest warlock in the world, but the singularly most powerful warlock in history. And he succeeded. At the time of his death, no warlock had the ability to best him.” Epi agreed. “His magical abilities were a closely guarded secret, and it is said the book he kept his incantations in had been destroyed at the time of his death – but from what I've seen of Bran in recent months, I have no doubt that was incorrect – somehow, from somewhere, Bran has gotten hold of that tome.”

  “So, what do we do now?”

  “We do what we have done from the beginning, Child. We continue to fight.”

  ≈†◊◊†◊◊†◊◊†≈

  Rolling over on the bedroll, I was concerned when I discovered Conal hadn't returned from his meeting the previous night. Leaning on my elbows I surveyed the tent, confirming everything was as I'd left it when I crawled into bed. Where could he be? I hoped his extended absence meant he was resolving the situation with the pack. “Lucas?”

  “Conal is still with the pack.”

  “Things aren't going well?”

  “The situation is a difficult one, my love. You know Conal would prefer you keep out of it.”

  “Easy for you to say,” I grumbled.

  Patrick stirred, flapping his little fists back and forth as he stretched and squeaked. I was learning quickly that from that first stretch and squeak, it was just a matter of seconds before my son would be letting out a heartfelt wail to let me know he was hungry. I unzipped the sleeping bag and slipped out, hurriedly pulling on clothes before I picked up Patrick. Outside the tent, Nissa offered me an elegant bob of her head and a warm smile, and we headed toward the mess.

  It was a beautiful day outside, the chill of early morning had left a soft mist hovering just above the tents, and sunlight streamed through the canopy of trees overhead, streaking the mist with strips of light. Many of the camp's inhabitants were already up and about, groups of men and women heading towards the clearing to start training, other people cleaning up, tidying their tents and the surrounding area, or heading to the showers.

  “Charlotte! May we have a moment of your time, please?” I turned to discover Goren and Arasinya hurrying along the line of tents, and judging by the enthusiasm in their eyes, they had news. I only hoped it wasn't bad news. I'd had just about as much bad news and unanswered questions as I could cope with. I watched them approach, impressed by their confidence and stature as they strode through camp. Patrick stretched and grumbled in my arms – I needed to convince them we should talk in the mess.

  “Good morning,” I greeted when they reached my side.

  “We bring news, Charlotte,” Arasinya announced.

  “Can we walk and talk?” I questioned. Nonny would have a warmed bottle waiting for my hungry baby.

  “Of course, but I must warn you, time is moving swiftly. It is imperative that we move quickly along with it.”

  With a frown, I stopped outside one of the tents, turning to stare at Goren suspiciously. “I swear, Goren, if this is more trouble…”

  “It will not be an easy task,” Goren admitted. “But I believe it is possible. We need to capture a Red Cap.”

  Chapter 32: The Red Cap Plan

  “Capture a Red Cap?” I stared at Goren in disbelief, repeating his words vacantly. Patrick squirmed and started to wail, letting me know in his mind it was way past breakfast. I lifted him up onto my shoulder and inclined my head in the direction on the mess. “Patrick's getting a little rambunctious.”

  “Of course,” Goren said, extending his arm to indicate I should go first, and Arasinya settled into a steady walk beside me. Nissa followed behind, keeping a vigilant eye on the people milling around camp. Ever-watchful, her orange eyes flicked from side to side, judging each person who breached the area surrounding Patrick and me.

  “You're serious. You want to capture a Red Cap?”

  “Yes.” Arasinya reached over, brushing her fingers across Patrick's little cheek. He squirmed under her gentle caress, and I smiled. The Fae adored children, especially babies, probably because they found it difficult to have progeny themselves. Fae families were never large – in most cases, they only ever had one offspring per couple, and even that wasn't guaranteed. I knew the basics of it from Nissa, and my time in the Realm. The Fae, despite their longevity, were not a productive race, irrespective of whether it was the fairies, the dwarves, the elves, or any other species. Nobody seemed certain why, but consequently they were obsessed with children and babies and any new Fae child was greeted with abundant joy and celebration.

  Nissa held open the flap of the mess tent and I stepped through. Glancing across the space, I couldn't see Nonny, but Misaki was in the serving area. She waved acknowledgement, hurrying off towards the kitchen.

  I was still struggling with the suggestion Goren had made and Arasinya apparently agreed with. “Let me get this straight,” I said. “You want to… capture a Red Cap? Given what you've told me about their race, that doesn't seem like a good idea.”

  “I believe it is the only option we have,” Goren replied firmly.

  I took a seat at one of the tables, and Patrick, having decided enough was enough, settled into a resounding wail to ensure everyone knew he was hungry. I patted his bottom and continued staring at Goren. “We're at war with the Drâghici and the Fae, last time I looked. Now you want to set off some sort of international incident with these Red Caps? Don't you remember what you told me? 'Their history is legendary, the kind of stories we were told as young Fae, a dire warning to stay away from trouble because you might find yourself delivered to the caves of Abergel'dg and given to a Red Cap who would devour you alive… or worse. Stories are told of them skinning their victims while they still live, chopping parts from the body and eating them, leaving the victim to scream in agony as they are eaten slowly, day by day. Nobody has contacted, nor negotiated with the Red Caps in my recollectio
n.' Isn't that what you said?”

  It took me a minute to realize Goren and Arasinya were staring at me, completely stunned. Even as I tried to figure out what I'd said to create such a thunderstruck reaction, Lucas spoke.

  “When did you gain verbatim memory? You just repeated a section of a conversation you and Goren conducted six days ago.”

  “I did?”

  “With great precision, love. Word for word, and using the same inflection Goren placed on his words when he spoke them. Which is no mean feat with a Fae, because their emotional nuances in verbal language are so miniscule as to almost be undetectable to the human ear.”

  “Okay then.” I offered Misaki a warm smile when she placed a mug of steaming coffee on the table in front of me, and handed over a bottle of warmed formula for my unhappy son. “Thanks, Misaki.” Settling Patrick onto my lap, I placed the nipple into his open, wailing mouth and he immediately started to suckle voraciously. “Where's Nonny this morning?” Not only was Nonny missing, but there wasn't a single member of Conal's pack to be seen.

  “They're conducting some type of pack business. Nonny didn't say what it was about, just asked if a few of us could help out.” Misaki placed a hand against the center of her back, rubbing at her spine. “I swear; I don't know how she does this day after day. I've been working for about an hour, and I'm already tired.”

  I glanced from Misaki's face to her rapidly-expanding belly. “You should take it easy, don't overdo it.”

  Misaki shook her head and grinned. “You're just as bad as your father. I'm fine, honestly. We've got bacon, scrambled eggs and hash browns, or wild mushroom omelets. Which would you prefer?”

  “Omelets, please.”

  Misaki hurried away and I turned back to Goren and Arasinya. “Okay. So you're honestly suggesting we need to kidnap a Red Cap. You'd need to convince me the repercussions of such an insane scheme would be worth it. What do we hope to gain? It's a short message, whatever it is. How do we know it isn't just a greeting to the Red Caps from Nememiah's Children, from hundreds of years in the past?”

  Goren stared at me as if I wasn't thinking logically and he was trying to explain something to a very small child. “Because, Little One, you wrote it down. I have every belief in the fact that if it came from your drawing, then it is of the utmost importance to our battle,” he explained. “And we have no way of decoding the wording, not without a Red Cap to do so for us.”

  “Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't kidnapping a Red Cap going to cause a whole lot of trouble? The last thing we need is to have an entire Fae race on the warpath, because we took one of their people.”

  Keenan spoke up, his booming voice making me jump. Since returning, I was struggling to come to grips with the fact that all these people were constantly in my head. After months of being under Archangelo's control, and with the influence of the drugs, I was having a hard time remembering to use this resource. Fortunately, the spirits had no such compunction; in fact, now they would readily contact me, rather than waiting for me to call to them. Another thing I was struggling to get used to. “I do not understand this 'warpath' you speak of, but Goren is right; you must garner the services of a Red Cap to translate what is written. It is imperative.”

  “Want to tell me how you know?” I questioned, cocking my head to one side.

  “I am hindered by the rules of your Nememiah,” Keenan responded, sounded miffed. I imagined as a former King of the Fae, he wasn't used to being hogtied over what he could say or do, but I'd learned that irrespective of what race the spirits belonged to, they had to follow the rules Nememiah set down. “But Goren is correct. This is the best course of action.”

  “Kidnap a member of a vicious, angry race? Bring him here and… what? Try and convince him he's got to help us? How is that possibly going to work?”

  “Arasinya can provide him with something his species wants, very badly. Something they will do almost anything to gain.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Let me guess. You can't tell me what that might be?”

  “Tell Arasinya to consider what the Red Caps truly desire.”

  I turned to Goren and Arasinya, who'd waited patiently while I conducted this internal dialogue. “Your father says you need to consider what the Red Caps truly desire.”

  Arasinya turned to Goren and for a minute or two, they conversed telepathically, if the subtle nuances of their changing facial expressions were anything to go by. I let them go, turning my attention to the steaming plate of mushroom omelets one of the women had delivered. The dense, earthy smell of mushroom mixed with the fresh, delicious smell of egg had my taste buds watering and I propped Patrick's bottle under my chin, so he could finish his breakfast while I attacked mine.

  “The Red Caps have only ever desired one thing,” Arasinya finally announced.

  “And what's that?” I questioned, swallowing down a mouthful of egg.

  “Autonomy.”

  I lifted an eyebrow in question, giving her the universal gesture for 'continue' – forgetting that Arasinya and Goren were both Fae. Seriously, I needed to get my head back into the game, but I'd had so much to deal with in recent days, and it was still shocking to think I'd only been back for a matter of weeks. Inhaling sharply to try and control my tolerance – which reminded me of the need to go and have the first injection of the day – I verbally asked her to continue.

  “The Red Caps have wanted to control their own rights for hundreds of years. To control their own people, be completely autonomous from the Fae Realm's rule. They want to have their own government, their own… how do you humans say it…” Arasinya touched her fingers to her brow, thinking hard. “I believe the word is democraticness?”

  It was my turn to think hard, and I swallowed down another mouthful of egg before I spoke. “I think you mean democracy.”

  “If that is to say they are not beholden to the rest of the Fae Realm for anything, and can isolate themselves from everything within the Realm, then yes, that would be correct,” Goren agreed. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together on the table. “While that may very well be what the Red Caps desire, it will come at a price. There are… assets… in the caves of Abergel'dg which are intrinsically essential to all the groups in the Realm. To provide the Red Caps with this… democracy, would be to create problems for the other species.”

  I narrowed my eyes at Arasinya. “Assets?”

  Arasinya and Goren exchanged a pointed glance, and I took a moment to put Patrick's bottle down on the table, lifting him up onto my shoulder to burp.

  Goren spoke, but his response was cautious. “There are… assets we must retain control of. Assets which are integral to all thirteen groups in the Realm.”

  “I know you're not lying…” I stated bluntly, “but you're obviously holding something back.”

  Arasinya clasped her hands together, leaning forward to speak quietly. “The power source in the Fae Realm, the energy used to energize our world – it comes from the Ju'Dng stones, a precious commodity within the Realm. These stones are extremely valuable, more valuable to the Fae than… I believe here on Earth; you call them… diamonds?”

  My gaze switched from Arasinya, to Goren and back again. “Diamonds. Uh huh.”

  “The Ju'Dng stones are more precious than your diamonds. They are the single most powerful energy source in the Realm; without them, our buildings would remain in darkness. They provide the energy used to harvest our water, our crops – all this is reliant on Ju'Dng stones.”

  “And I assume these stones are only available from where the Red Caps live?”

  They conducted another noiseless discussion. “Yes,” Goren admitted.

  I settled Patrick in my lap and offered him the formula again, and he suckled contentedly at the bottle. “So, these Red Caps – and you said 'They are one of the five largest groups within the Realm, and considered to be under the ruling monarch's control, but no-one attempts to negotiate with them. We leave them alone.' What that really meant was that
you leave them alone – except for when you want these stones, which happen to come from their area of the Realm.”

  I found I was liking this verbatim memory – quite a lot. I ignored a snort of laughter from Lucas and kept my attention on the two Fae seated at the table with me.

  “Yes.” Goren's face was growing stonier by the second and I got the distinct impression that neither he, nor Arasinya were comfortable with the direction this discussion had taken.

  “Do they give them to you willingly?” I chose to use the one thing I knew worked with the Fae – questions which required a yes or no answer.

  Goren exchanged another pointed look with Arasinya, before she responded, shaking her head. “Charlotte, you must understand—”

  “What's the answer to the question, Arasinya?” I demanded quietly.

  She tipped her chin up defiantly. “No.”

  “So how do you get these stones?”

  “We conduct raids into the Red Caps territory, take what we require,” Goren admitted.

  “Without their permission, presumably?”

  “Yes,” Goren agreed. “But you don't understand. This is a matter for the Realm, a situation you cannot possibly understand. The Red Caps – they need to be controlled, kept under a tight rule.”

  “Why? So you can keep these stones under your control?”

  “There is that, but Charlotte, they are a war-loving race, they kill and maim dozens of Fae each year,” Arasinya protested.

  “What Fae? The ones sent to steal from their caves?” My temper was beginning to burn, and my annoyance grew, knowing the Fae were once again twisting facts to suit themselves.

  “That is true,” Goren pointed out, “but they are an angry, violent and unforgiving race – even without the fight over the stones.”