‘I am Charles Fordham-Marshall,’ the man replied stiffly. ‘Finally we meet, Caspar.’
‘We do.’
Charles Fordham-Marshall stood up. He was a tall, elegant figure with a close-cropped head of wiry grey hair. Everything about him exuded an unmistakable air of authority. In matters of procedure he considered himself unrivalled.
‘Master, do I have your permission to continue?’ he asked formally.
‘You may proceed,’ said Sir Jonas.
‘Will the Candidate for Initiation please rise?’
Caz gripped the spear and stood up slowly. He wore the mail tunic openly for the first time and faced the dark, disapproving man squarely, every subtlety of movement calculated to emphasise his superiority to all of them in height and strength. He might be the youngest but not one of the Guardians could match his horsemanship or his experience.
The black eyes focused somewhere on the wall over Caz’s left shoulder. ‘Candidate, do you wish to be admitted to Council?’
‘What choice do I have?’
The normally good-humoured voice was heavy with disdain. ‘Please come forward and kneel before the Master to receive the Oath of Allegiance. The Candidate should be aware that it is a privilege.’
Caz walked around the circle. He stood over Sir Jonas and took the parchment scroll from his hand. ‘I’ll read this first if you don’t mind.’
‘It is a required procedure,’ replied the old man.
The Guardians waited. Daisy flinched as Caz threw down the parchment and returned to his chair.
‘This doesn’t apply to me,’ he said derisively. ‘My life is already on the line. But then you knew that, didn’t you?’ He looked around the silent faces. ‘I’ll say this just once. Don’t ever expect me to vow to sacrifice anyone else’s life, not the horses, and never any of my “sons or their sons”. A fat lot of good this oath’s done all of you! Where are your kids? Tell me that!’
Charles Fordham-Marshall shifted irritably in his seat. ‘The Guardians have dedicated themselves to the oath since the first were sworn. Why should you be an exception?’
Caz rose to his feet. He stepped over the rune circle and stood directly before the sacred stone. He felt an immediate tingling in the soles of his feet, coursing through his body and pulsing into the spear.
He held up the heavy weapon, registering the wave of reaction sweeping the room… Sir Jonas, curiosity… John, alarm… Daisy, fear… Alan, excitement!
Fury twisted the smooth features of the dark face opposite. Charles Fordham-Marshall was already half out of his seat. ‘This is sacrilege! He is not yet sworn!’
Sir Jonas put out a warning hand. ‘Guardian! Be silent! Let the Candidate state his case.’
Caz shook the spear. A battle surge of blood pulsed in his veins. The blue stone ignited at his feet. His voice rang out. ‘I speak for the Galdramerr Valkyrjan and for me. The Spear is our dedication! The Spear is our Oath of Allegiance! I am Heartbiter, Spear-Bearer and Rune-Winner!’
The candles flickered wildly. Caz sensed movement, a blurring outside the circle of chairs, but no demon stalked the sacred chamber that night. Heat coursed through the spear, the first of the Runes of the Deathless blazed on the triple-edged blade. He pointed to the figure on the tree behind Sir Jonas. ‘I live and die by the will of the God. There is only one Master!’
Charles Fordham-Marshall’s eyes flashed dangerously. He appeared completely unaware of any phenomena manifesting in the chamber. His only concern was the matter in hand.
‘Candidate, do you refuse the Oath of Allegiance?’ he demanded.
‘It doesn’t apply to me,’ repeated Caz. ‘I’m already vowed in blood before the Tree, dedicated to win the runes or die in the attempt. No wine shall pass my lips and no woman shall warm my bed until I have my revenge for Bryn and everything I lost that night. Either you accept it or I leave now. Which is it to be?’
Like Charles, Alan had seen no outward manifestation of power, but he could feel it and smell it. The hair prickled on the back of his neck. The air was thick with the presence of unseen forces, summoned by the authority of the spear. He felt for the sword hidden beneath his robes.
John frowned. He looked pale and nervous. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead.
‘The oath is the crucial act of dedication for every Guardian,’ he said. ‘It has always been the most important rite of fealty and sharing. There is no true sense of brotherhood without it.’
Charles Fordham-Marshall sat rigidly upright. ‘I would remind Council that procedure clearly states that in the event of the candidate refusing the oath, that candidate shall be cast out. This is a blood oath! We must share the cup! There can be no exceptions! The candidate must swear it or leave!’
‘But this case is exceptional!’ protested Alan. ‘There is no procedure because no candidate has ever stood before Council with one of the Runes of the Deathless already in his hand!’
‘Aye to that,’ said Daisy steadily.
John glanced at Sir Jonas. ‘The oath is also a demonstration of loyalty to the Master.’
‘There is no question of this candidate’s loyalty,’ interjected Daisy.
‘My loyalty to the Master is already proven,’ declared Caz. ‘At World Tree!’
Alan pounded his knee. ‘Aye to that!’ he said emphatically. He stood up. ‘I move that Candidate Caz Wylde’s exemption from the Oath of Allegiance be honoured and that he be admitted to Council.’
Daisy sat up stiffly in her chair. ‘Seconded!’
Sir Jonas looked at John and Charles Fordham-Marshall. ‘Guardians, how say you?’
They kept their attention on the floor and remained silent. Sir Jonas looked around the circle once more and bowed his head. ‘Council is divided.’
Caz stood motionless. The ring of black granite beneath his feet seemed to fall away so that he hung weightless, engulfed in sea-blue flame within a circle of fiery runes, burning away the fear still lingering from the nightmare vision at the party. He heard Daisy’s heart beating much too fast and wondered if this was the first time that she had gone against John in Council. He was aware of Alan standing behind him. Instinctively he knew he was armed.
Al knows me best. Is he for me or against me? Will he come with me if the Bank gets me cast out? What is the old man waiting for?
As if he had been answered, Sir Jonas raised his head. ‘I evoke Master’s Right of Decision.’ He got to his feet. ‘I move that Guardian Caspar Wylde, Spear-Bearer and Rune-Winner be honoured and recognised as being exempt from the Oath of Allegiance, and that he be admitted to Council with the title and offices of Second Horsemaster. Guardian Keeper of Hall and Treasury, how say you?’
Charles Fordham-Marshall stood up, his face a mask. His mouth barely moved. ‘Aye to that.’
‘Guardian Archivist, how say you?’
John stood up. ‘Aye to that.’
The pounding in Daisy’s chest began to subside.
‘Guardian Keeper of Hearth and Keys, how say you?’
‘Aye to that.’
‘Guardian Armourer, Defender of Thunderslea, how say you?’
Alan took his hand from his sword hilt, smiling broadly. ‘Aye to that and good hunting!’
Sir Jonas stood up. He bowed his head, his hand over his heart in salute to the confirmed initiate. ‘Guardian Spear-Bearer, Rune-Winner and Second Horsemaster, be welcome.’
CHAPTER 36
The oppressive atmosphere in the Council Chamber cleared. The candles resumed their steady burning. Visibly relieved, John sat back in his chair. Alan returned to his seat and Daisy wiped the traces of tears from her cheeks with her fingers. Sir Jonas sat down anxious to conclude the formalities of the initiation.
Charles Fordham-Marshall cleared his throat, intoning, ‘Guardian Spear-Bearer, please come forward and kneel before the Master to receive the robes and the articles of Rite.’
Sir Jonas was smiling as Caz knelt before him. ‘The style of clothing you have as
sumed as customary is more than suitable to the task you are vowed to accomplish, but we require all Guardians to be correctly robed and equipped in Council.’
The robes were cut from the same dark blue material as the cloak he was already wearing. The broad, black leather belt with its silver buckle was very similar to what he had fastened over the mail tunic. The scabbard was inlaid with silver in the shape of a running horse. The finely wrought, jewel-handled knife it was meant to hold was offered separately. The hilt was inlaid with three sparkling blue aquamarines. The first of the Runes of the Deathless had been engraved on the blade. The workmanship was unmistakable and of the very finest.
Sir Jonas put the knife into Caz’s hands. ‘Guardian Spear Bearer, receive the Blade in token of your acceptance into our Order. We have declared you exempt from the ritual of the Oath of Allegiance, but I must caution you that the rite demands the Blade should be blooded before it is sheathed for the first time.’
Without hesitation Caz stood up and drew the blade across his left hand. He slapped both hands together, raising the bloody palms for them all to witness. Once more the candles wavered.
‘These hands are red and not just with my own blood,’ he said tersely. ‘Is that good enough for you, Guardians?’
‘Aye to that!’ they shouted in unison, save for Charles Fordham-Marshall who waited until he saw how the Master would vote before he made his response.
Caz laid the bloodied knife in place on the floor in front of his seat. The wound it had inflicted was already closed. The hilt lined up with Sigel in the rune circle. He considered the corresponding lines from the rune poem appropriate: ‘The sun guides the ship home to land.’
John’s knife-hilt lay in line with the Ós rune: ‘A pillar of wisdom and a comfort to wise men.’ Daisy’s blade celebrated Wyn, the rune of joy, while Alan’s faced Jer: ‘A boon to men.’
That’s definitely Al, Caz thought. And for the Bank, what else but Iar, the brotherhood rune?
The three empty seats completing the circle were positioned to correspond with the runes of Eh, Ing and Ac respectively. For a fleeting moment he wondered who had occupied them before and how long ago?
Sir Jonas called the meeting to order. ‘Guardians, Council is convened.’ He turned to John. ‘Guardian Archivist, what is the order of business?’
John took a notebook and pen from the leather case under his chair. ‘The Hag Night Vigil and all related matters should be deliberated before Council, Master. Guardian Keeper of Hall and Treasury will open the debate.’
Charles Fordham-Marshall did not hesitate. He spoke to Sir Jonas but the question was clearly aimed at Caz. ‘In your opinion, what is the likelihood of successful visitation this year, Master?’
‘I believe that is a question for Guardian Spear-Bearer to answer,’ said the old man.
All eyes turned on Caz. He kept his tone deliberately casual. ‘Do you mean will they turn up, or what’s the chance of getting the runes?’
‘The one depends upon the other, wouldn’t you say?’
Caz shrugged and said nothing.
The dark man insisted. ‘I am asking you for your opinion, Guardian Spear Bearer. What is the likelihood of successful visitation in December?’
Caz shrugged again. ‘The same as last year, I suppose.’
‘Are you not able to give us a more accurate assessment, in view of the phenomena of your recent experience?’
‘What recent experience?’
‘I am told you were taken ill on Monday night. Would this have any significant bearing on the possibility of visitation?’
‘I was not ill.’
‘But I am told you were in an apparently comatose condition for nearly twenty-two hours, contrary to your reported normal sleep patterns.’
‘I was tired. I slept. Is that good enough for you?’
‘No, it is not. As a Guardian in Council you are now under obligation to report all phenomena. I would appreciate more clarity in this instance.’
‘Clarity!’ scoffed Caz, refusing to be drawn.
Guardian Keeper of Hall and Treasury could barely contain his fury.
’You have never reported your experience of the first visitation,’ he said between clenched teeth. ‘Would you please do so now?’
‘My experience!’ Caz sneered. ‘What do any of you know about my experience?’ He pointed to Sir Jonas. ‘You spent most of the time half dead. You didn’t even see World Tree! None of you have.’ He pointed to the image on the wall. ‘That doesn’t come anywhere near the reality of it!’
‘So what does come near it?’ asked John.
Caz pointed to his mail tunic. ‘I’ve taken a lot of time and trouble to make this and it’s not meant for decoration. What does that tell you?’
Charles Fordham-Marshall answered more evenly. ‘It suggests that you will be in need of protection. What is this name, Heartbiter, that you claim?’
‘The warriors called me that after Bryn died.’
‘And this is how you are known to them, presumably?’
‘Presumably.’
‘Is there any insight that you are prepared to offer Council as to the nature of these warriors, that might be helpful in our preparation for the next vigil?’
Caz looked from one silent face to the other. ‘You want the runes? Then don’t even make me think about what I’m going to have to go through to get them! Don’t you understand? A big part of me actually wants to go back! I want to ride Kyri far into forever and never see this world again. If the slightest wish can have the greatest consequences, then it’s probably the most dangerous wish I’ve had in my entire life. Out there, wherever it is, they call me Heartbiter with red hands because they’ve made me into a murderer just like them, and that’s not like some super stunt you come back from and tell all your mates about. I can’t even find the words to tell myself about it. What makes you think I can tell you?’
‘What about writing it down one day?’ Alan suggested.
‘One day I will, but when I’m ready to do it for myself, not just to entertain any of you.’ He gestured around the room. ‘Or to satisfy all of this and what it’s about.’
Charles Fordham-Marshall was aware of Daisy glaring at him and Alan shaking his head in his direction.
‘Very well, Guardian Spear-Bearer, you will have all the time that you need to make your report,’ he conceded. ‘As long as you understand that everything that you record will remain the exclusive property of the Guardians and must be discussed only in Council.’
‘Don’t worry!’ Caz retorted. ‘No one else would be interested.’
Daisy was furious. What does Charles think he’s doing, taking on like this to young Caz when he’s barely back on his feet not more than a day, she thought angrily. It won’t get us anywhere except to make trouble and we’ve got trouble enough as it is.
She raised her hand. ‘Master?’
Sir Jonas bowed his head in her direction. ‘Guardian Keeper of Heath and Keys.’
‘Since the first visitation it was agreed that new clothing and equipment should be provided for each vigil. Does Council still support this decision?’
‘I would say it is imperative in view of the need to preserve all evidence of contact,’ said John.
‘Aye to that,’ agreed Alan.
Charles Fordham-Marshall nodded. ‘This must include whatever arms and armour the participants wish to bear. Master, do you have any preferences?’
‘I shall be content to bear my grandfather’s sword as before,’ said Sir Jonas. He pointed to Caz’s mail tunic. ‘I doubt I would be able to even stand up in such a magnificent piece of craftsmanship. However, in view of likely injury, perhaps it would be wise to consider something lighter. Guardian Armourer, what do you think?’
‘I’ve got a good supply of leather and steel,’ Alan replied. ‘I could put together a breastplate and a couple of helmets. Nothing fancy but better than going without.’
‘I’ve already got a helmet,’ remark
ed Caz.
‘I’ll do you a fresh one for Hag Night. Has either of you thought about shields?’
‘Not for me,’ Sir Jonas answered. ‘Again, it is a question of weight and agility. I agree that it was a mistake to confront visitation without protective headgear, but I fear it is too late for me to consider carrying a shield. The sword will suffice.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ said Caz.
‘And Guardian Spear-Bearer needs two new cloaks,’ said Daisy firmly.
‘Why?’ Caz asked.
‘Because you’ll be needing a new one for the vigil and we might as well make up a spare for whatever else you get up to. Then perhaps the one you’ve got on’ll get to see soap and water more than once a month!’
He grinned. ‘Does the tab extend to new boots as well? These are getting a bit tight.’
She peered over her glasses at Charles Fordham-Marshall. ‘How say you, Guardian Keeper of Hall and Treasury?’
Charles inclined his head towards her. ‘Whatever Guardian Keeper of Hearth and Keys considers appropriate.’
‘New boots it is then. We’ll get Mister Jones back down here to measure up before he takes the order. Although if Guardian Spear-Bearer doesn’t stop growing soon, he’ll be a beanstalk.’
The black mouth widened into its most charming smile. ‘I’ll always be a magic one, I promise you.’
‘Just as long as you keep your feet firmly on the ground,’ observed Alan. ‘That’s what matters most.’
CHAPTER 37
‘We have yet to discuss the arrangements for the horses for Hag Night, Master,’ said John.
Caz interrupted. ‘That’s easily sorted. Only Kyri goes over this time.’
Sir Jonas sat up, frowning. ‘And what of Freyja?’
‘She stays here.’
‘What nonsense is this?’ the old man demanded.
‘Kyri is one of the Galdramerar. She can carry us both, no problem.’
‘Absolutely not!’
‘Okay, then I’ll go on foot and you can ride Kyri.’
The blue eye blazed. ‘To undertake such a venture on the back of an animal that has never been trained to accept a saddle and bridle would be madness at my age! Unthinkable!’
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