“Damn, fool!” she said. “If she is as powerful as you say, imagine what trouble she would be as one of us. The Mal’akim have never been granted participation before. For good reason, they are abominations themselves.”
“The chamber does not see it that way Morrighan. Regardless of your feelings the Seræphym will take part in the Conclave, the Mother had deemed it so.”
“If you can locate her. Seems this young angel has outwitted the great hunter of apostates.”
“I was distracted by the apprentice,” he said.
“What apprentice?” she asked.
“After we took the enchantress, we searched the remaining wood. Her apprentice had gathered a group of the apostates, he was preparing to walk them through a portal. We set upon them and he conjured a great demonic bear. Two of the loyal Guardians were killed by the boy. Before I could put him down the Seræphym launched her attack. I had thought her destroyed by the guardian she waged with. I didn’t know at the time she was not a normal keeper. It wasn’t until after she wounded me that I discovered her birth records were falsified.”
“And the apprentice? Do we have his body?” she asked.
“The Seræphym carried his body away. There was no way he survived. He took twelve lances to the abdomen.”
The problem was only multiplying if she didn’t act the entire situation would get out of hand. She needed to interrogate the Enchantress, she would know if the boy still lived. Morrighan was now certain that this blundering fool Amyranii could not be the one who had deceived the chamber. He couldn’t even deal with a rogue Sopher and a few apostates. This was no great evil agent, just another mess made by man, that she now had to clean up.
“You will find the Seræphym and the body of the apprentice, or the both of us will be placed in the dreaming. There I can assure you, I will have my way with your mind Amyrannii. Now take me to this enchantress.”
He nodded and hurried down the corridor.
Pitiful excuse for a man. She thought.
The prison below Druid’s Oath was rank and foul. Her nose was filled with the scent of the abominable. The most dangerous apostates were silenced, those whose gifts had been limited to non martial arts were forced mere bonded and left to live out their days below the ground. There was no escape from this prison. Here in the bowels of the ancient citadel the souls would live our their lives. The warding surrounding the prison was impenetrable. She knew better, men could always find a way. It was the reason she preferred to destroy them, had she been given the title of warden she would have no need of wards or walls. Death was as good a prison as any.
Amyrannii led her to the cells where the most recent apostates had been quartered. Morrighan looked upon the sullen souls. They did not appear as she imagined. There were only a handful aside from the enchantress. She examined them. Amyrannii had done his work, the lot had already been cleansed.
“What were their gifts?” she asked.
“Illusion, quite gifted. I have yet to determine if the seal that protected their encampment was forged by their own hands or by something else.”
Illusion was an understated gift, one that was all too often overlooked. She was fond of the art, it was more useful than it was given credit for. This ragged group had avoided being detected for thousands of years.
“Had they any ambition they could have used such gifts to terrorize this world once more.” she said.
They looked at her, their eyes glossy and vapid. “What is wrong with them?”
“The entire lot seemed to be rather fond of indulging. They’ve gone weeks now without their usual dosage. They are experiencing symptoms of withdrawal.”
“Drunkards. Why would Madan move against this rabble with such zeal? They do not appear to be a threat to anything more than a bottle.”
Amyrannii handed her a leather bound journal.
“I believe he had designs to reverse the hex. He was convinced that within their veins was the key to reversing the Bane. His research was quite thorough even if he was missing a few key elements.”
She thumbed through the journal.
“It would appear he had designs. He and a select group of the Mal’akim had grown restless in their tenure at the Acropolis. I have received whispers that there is malcontent among them. They no longer wish to serve the Nemeton. Some claim they hold vigil for the return of their king. Though I have yet to uncover evidence of this contingent. The Watchers have fled the Acropolis and have taken to the Far North.”
“Heretics. They should have been destroyed with the humans.” she said. “You spent time with Madan in his final years, he did not show signs of deception?”
“None I could tell. His zeal for locating the lost tribe was always known to us. I believed his obsession useful. It was, this was the largest grouping of apostates discovered in over two thousand years. Whatever Madan was his obsession led to their capture.”
His words were grating on her nerves. His idiocy was dazzling, or he was beyond clever in his deception. She could prove nothing but negligence but she did not want to implicate herself as a party to his mistakes.
“The Watchers must brought back to the Acropolis to be questioned. Establish an inquiry once it is done, they will divulge those who have led them astray. The Mal’akim have no mind of their own, they were slaves, and have remained so. It will not be difficult to break them. Now where is the enchantress?”
“Follow me,” he said.
Amyrannii had kept the enchantress separate from the others. It was the first wise things he had done in this botched mission. As they entered the cell, she could tell Amyrannii had already been working on the prisoner. She hung from the ceiling in thick chains. Her wrists were bright red and covered in clotted blood. He’d stripped her and lashed her close to twenty times. Her silver hair lay at her feet, and her eyes depicted defeat. This was no enchantress. She had met them in battle many times before. Even after being captured they remained unruly. What she saw was a woman wholly defeated.
The Morrighan approached her. She raised her chin and looked into her eyes.
The eyes told her everything she needed to know about someone.
“What is it you seek daughter of the night?” said the Enchantress “Have you come to end my life? Or do you believe you can crack me where this whelp has failed?”
The Morrighan smiled. “There is still life in her yet.” She walked around the Enchantress, circling her like a crow to carrion. Her nose sniffed like a hound before a meal. She would enjoy this. “No apostate. I have no come to end your life. That has already occurred, heretic. You see within these walls there can be no escape. You have reached the end already. I am here to wrest what information I need from you.”
The Morrighan stopped and looked at Amyrannii, “You will no longer be needed ArchMagus, you may go deal with what it is I have asked of you.”
“I am afraid I cannot allow you to interrogate her alone,” said Amyrannii.
She glared at him, “If you do not leave now newborn I will relay to Dagda and the others what a bumbling fool you have become. I am certain a vote of no confidence can be instated this afternoon should I wish it.”
He bit his tongue and stared at her. “I won’t soon forget this Lady Morrighan.” he said before storming out of the cell.
The Morrighan waited for a few minutes to pass before she continued. She stood in front of the Enchantress and enjoyed the sight of her broken power. What stood before her was not a person, but a disease. She viewed them all as a disease, one that could only be cured by death. This Enchantress was powerful, but she had given up something dear to her heart.
“Where is your power now Enchantress?” she inquired. “Who holds the key to your lineage?”
The broken woman pierced her with her eyes. “You’re not like that wretched little fop. I can tell.”
“You’re correct. I am much worse. Amryannii follows the rules. It is one of his greatest strengths and his tragic weakness. He believes he can fix mankin
d, bring them back into the good graces of the Mother. If only he could fix this apostate problem. But there is only one way to fix them isn’t there?”
She cackled in response. “You foolish little Fae bitch. You’ll never be rid of us. It is not in our nature to be put down like the dogs you see us as. We tore the heavens down in righteous fury. Man will rise again, and you know it. It terrifies you, keeps you awake under the moons light. That one day someone like me will tear down what you have worked so to build. Do you fear for you children daughter of the night? Do you fear for your precious daughter?”
Morrighan gripped her throat. Her teeth pressed against themselves, “Do not presume I will not end it for you here and now. I do not fear your idle threats. For every one child that yours harm I will visit upon your descendants unending pain and suffering. They will never know solace, they will never know peace, so long as I draw breath men will ever be under my watchful eyes.”
The Enchantress spat in her face. “You still don’t see it do you sheFae? The King returns, his first horseman will ride soon. You cannot stop it, I cannot stop it. Your precious Nemeton has allowed it to transpire right under your own nose, and for all your power you haven’t had the prescience to see it.”
“The warlock,” said the Morrighan.
“Perhaps you aren’t as blind as I believed. Your mother must have warned you. Take care not to heed her every word. It is a twisted maze. Where she seats, you may seem to be a favored position sheFae, but you like me are little more than pawns in a much larger game.”
“How does an Enchantress of a derelict tribe feign knowledge of an oath breaker? By what magic have you conjured this?” she asked.
“You Fae act as if you created magic itself. These forces are much older than you or I, and they have a will of their own. You may believe you control it, but it merely uses you as it has done to me. My part in this scheme is complete. I trust you know yours is not yet done with you.”
“Speak sense you wretched hag,” said the Morrighan.
“My time is ending. My power leaves me and goes to another. One whom you shall never find, one whom shall bring about the end of my work. Did you think I sat idly by as my pitiful kinsmen? Make no mistake, my work will unfold and there is little you or I can do to unwrinkle the web of destiny.”
“The apprentice,” mouthed the Morrighan. “The boy may soon have your power, but he will not remain at large.” She licked the cheek of the Enchantress. “I have your scent, and I have his. He will beg for death.”
She had struck a nerve. The old woman ground her teeth in defiance. “If you believe you can use me to get to him, you are sorely mistaken. Do your worst, sheFae. My soul is prepared.”
The Morrighan looked at her in amazement. “I do not care for your apprentice. Amyrannii will locate him soon, along with that treacherous black wing.”
“She found him?” said the Enchantress. “Then it is as I dreamed. Together they will uncover the source of the corruption that spreads within your wretched circle. The Nemeton will not stand for long. I have seen it daughter of the night. The kings of old will return because of your circles folly. War comes to your doorstep whether you like it or not. Chambers split, thrones on fire, brother murder brother, sister betrays sister. Nothing you do will stop it.”
“By whom do you claim this prophecy?” she asked as she gripped her ear and tugged.
“Pain is no stranger sheFae, but if you wish to know I will tell you. One of your own visited me on several occasions. He came of the misty dreams and he returned hence to them. His words were riddles, and his face bore the wrinkles of time. It was he who told me of the cancer that grows within the cursed grove. And of my destiny to bring forth the one who would remove it.”
“Falbanach,” she uttered. “Meddlesome fool. Did he tell you whom you stupid little witch?”
“Names were not given, nor faces revealed. Treachery exists where you least expect it and belongs to all. As one has fallen, all have fallen. Justice shall not be brought forth by you daughter of the night, but upon you, your precious Dagda, and your whole circle. She of the black wing will right the wrongs, and return your circle to its work, but not before the world bathes itself in blood once more. Oaths have been broken by all, and all must be punished. The warlock will try to cease the return of the harbinger, but his power will not be enough.”
The Morrighan fumed. Not because she disagreed, but because she knew the woman’s words to be true. For the first time in thousands of years she had received truth from the mouth of a human being. This enchantress has seen what she did not. It was not one member, but the entire body. As happened with all that touched corruption by lust or by effort to vanquish it, the perversion persisted. She knew she most locate the relics tied to prophecy of the return of the fallen kings. If this woman spoke the whole truth, then she too would face the judgement of this black wing. A fate she could not allow to transpire. But she would have to move quickly, Falbanach would not wait. She turned to leave the cell.
“Do me one small favor before you go sheFae,” asked the Enchantress. “I would not have that petty fool lay hands upon me once more. Of all of your kind, he reeks the most of corruption. I would my end at the hands of a female. Take my life and deliver my soul unto our Mother.”
A sudden sinking pity fell upon her in that moment. She could not truly imagine what it felt like to be under the influence and torture of Amyranii. She walked to her and placed her hands around her neck. “Go now to our Mother child, find the celestial fields and pray for those of us who will never see them.”
She watched the life leave her eyes and her power return to the earth. The Morrighan knew when she died, her power would go to the lost apprentice, should he still live. Falbanach would already be upon them, she was too late. Fate now rested in the hands of a warlock.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Samsara, the rogue Seræphym
Black of Wing,
Whose heart doth sting,
In bloodied hands does justice bring.
Samsara scanned the deep woods for signs of movement. It had been several days since she had seen evidence of any traffic. Sam had been patrolling an area of two leagues around the cavern she had chosen as a hideout. Bards, mercenary soldiers, and hooded agents of the Nemeton had scoured the Greatwood.
Three days, no mercs, no hoods, where are the Bards? She pondered.
Their concentration had been in the area of the portal she had escaped through with the injured young man. Sam knew her assault would not go unpunished. She also knew the injured young man was linked to the death of her father. She wanted answers, and she wanted them now. Unfortunately, the wounds he sustained fighting the Guardians had caused him to enter a coma. She had mended the wounds as best she could with field dress and herbs.
He needs another herbal poultice. Need to find yarrow and calendula. She thought.
She’d fought off the infection, but his fate rested in his will to live.
Weeks had passed since the day where she exacted her revenge on the creature she presumed had killed her father. She wanted to return to where the body was, to make sure the job was done, but the area was swarming with Bards and the enthralled Guardians. She wondered just how many of her people had succumbed to the silver tongue of druid. Without her father to lead them, the impostor could deploy the entire lot to do his bidding. He'd have eyes and ears in every dominion, a veritable private army as capable as any in the world. She knew he already had command of the Guardians.
I wonder if Sariel and the Watchers made it out.
The shadow of their wings had blanketed the Greatwood for weeks looking for her and the mysterious young apostate. Sam had avoided being detected by the Guardians or the bards. But she had yet to see any of the Watchers. She considered herself lucky if the Watchers had fallen under his influence then she would not have been able to avoid capture. The Guardians for all of their military might and strength were mindless buffoons when compared to the Watchers. Sam ass
umed that they had caught wind of what had occurred at the Acropolis and had gone into hiding.
She continued her patrol of the surrounding woodlands. This was her first time being free of the chains of the Acropolis. A part of her was saddened by her first adventure into the world. It had been muted by what had occurred. Instead, everything she saw within the Greatwood Forest neither amazed nor excited her. She was singularly focused on figuring out why this young man was so important to her father, and to the Nemeton. She’d thought about it over and over again, running the problem over and over again in her mind. Sam had read the note her father left her countless times looking for a clue, but she could not grasp what was happening. She wished her father was there to help her. Then she saw a patch of calendula in the middle of a clearing.
Sam stopped in clearing and cut the appropriate amount of herb. She looked up into the sky. The day was sunny and warm with a slight breeze coming from the west. The wood was quiet as many of the residents who lived in the forest had left the wood for the Isle of Eíre. Sam knew the Conclave would be underway soon, and millions would be in attendance. The word sent shivers down her spine.
Why had her father not told her sooner? If they’d had identified her as the tribute, should he not have prepared her?
He could not have not gone so mad that he was trying to secure a dispensation. If he had been trying to secure her freedom, it was no wonder the Nemeton retaliated as they did. The entire thing stunk of corruption.
She gritted her teeth, everything made her angry. The Nemeton, the Lost Tribe, the Conclave.
“Curse you Goddess! You and your damned grove!” she cried out in the middle of the wood. Her voice shook the wind and Sam realized that she may have drawn attention to herself. She hurried to the tree line and laid prone in the grass below the trees with her eyes fixed on the clearing. If any had heard her they would be nearby soon enough. Perhaps she could turn her mistake to her advantage. If she could take one of them alive, then she might gain intelligence. Samsara waited, her eyes darting from tree line to tree line. Her cry had to have be heard. Those who searched for her did not relent.
Nemeton: The Trial of Calas (Hallowed Veil Book 1) Page 27