The Arcanist

by Greg Curtis

  Edouard tried to tell him that, to explain to him exactly what he was facing, only to see his brother's smile broaden. The man simply wasn't listening to him. He thought he was telling him wild stories. Soon he knew, he'd be laughing. As if it was all some great jape.

  “Stop grinning you great oaf! You have no idea what Tyrel can do to you if you make even the slightest mistake. She'll turn you inside out if you so much as open your mouth and let the wrong word out! And you don't know the right words! Worse she'll know long before you even arrive of your disreputable proclivities. In the morning you'll ride to your death!”

  Finally Marcus gave in and let out the belly laugh he'd been holding back, before swigging the last of his goblet and holding it out for another.

  “I know that little brother.” He held his goblet out and waited impatiently for Edouard to fill it again. “But you see I have a plan.”

  “Oh by the Seven! A plan?” Edouard felt his blood run cold as he refilled Marcus' goblet and then thought about getting one for himself. He wasn't a great drinker but there were times when he felt the urge. This was looking like one of them. “Would that be the same plan the mouse has before it goes into battle with the cat?”

  “Something like.” Marcus laughed loudly some more and took another swig of the mulled wine.” You see I know nothing about the hamadryad save that she hates men. But I know someone who does know about her.”

  For a moment Edouard almost dared to hope that he did have a plan. That he did know someone. Maybe even someone who could escort him safely through her temple. But then he saw the way his brother's eyes were staring straight at him and realised the awful truth.

  “Me? Oh seven hells no! Not for all the ancient gold!”

  “Yes little brother. In the morning we ride. Or I'll ride and you can take that ridiculous contraption of yours to the temple, and we can talk to the tree lady together.” He laughed some more and Edouard knew then that he would not be able to get out of it. Marcus generally didn't accept no for an answer. Which didn't bode well for his chances of making it through the day. Or Edouard's.

  “Father is not going to be best pleased to return from his trade mission and then have to pay for two funerals at once you know! It will be an ill homecoming when he returns!”

  “He can afford it!”

  Chapter Three

  They reached the temple early the following morning. But then they'd left Edouard's fort at dawn, without even a good breakfast. Time so Marcus said, was short. But if it was really that short Edouard thought, he could have left his horse behind and ridden with him in the horseless carriage. It was faster. Besides, was he really in that much of a hurry to die? They could have at least have had breakfast first and died on a full stomach.

  Marcus was obviously in a hurry to do something however. Why else would he choose to lead his horse into the temple grounds instead of simply tying her up to Edouard's carriage? It was almost as if he was planning on riding away at full gallop should things go wrong. But that was an unworthy thought. Marcus had never fled a battle in his life and he would never abandon him. Besides, he surely knew that it wouldn't help. Not in the temple itself. There was no getting away from the hamadryad unless she chose to allow it.

  The only reason any men had managed to escape Tyrel’s ire was simply that they didn't enter the temple’s grounds far enough to bother her. Usually those who managed to escape were boys who had barely touched the edge of her realm as they spied on the handmaidens.

  Of course the reason they got into trouble in the first place was that they didn't understand what was meant by her temple. Tyrel was a hamadryad. She would not live in a structure like a cathedral or a church. She lived out in the open under the blue sky and the stars. So her temple was actually a vast tree lined field that lead to her inner sanctum; the small island shrine that was her home.

  “This looks quite pleasant.”

  Edouard cringed a little as he heard his brother beside him. Trust Marcus to say something so completely foolish, Edouard thought. He really didn't understand. To be fair though no one without magic would. And technically he was right. It did look like a very lovely part of the country. They were travelling through a beautiful green meadow of long grass filled with wild flowers bounded on both sides by tall trees. At the far end of it, so far into the distance that somehow even being many hundreds of paces wide the vista became a giant green road, it led straight to the most holy of places. The ancient stone shrine dedicated to the hamadryad set on a small island of green in the centre of a small lake.

  Tyrel's realm was very beautiful. She liked it that way. But beauty was one thing and safety was something else entirely, and for a mortal man this was probably one of the most dangerous places in the world. Especially for a sinful one. And his brother was one of the most sinful ever to walk the world. Or at least in Tyrel's eyes he would be.

  Marcus didn't seem to understand that. He'd even refused to dress properly for the meeting, something that Edouard couldn't understand. Though it was probably pointless when facing a power, Edouard had still chosen to wear his best attire. A crisp white shirt with ruffled sleeves over neatly pressed trousers together with a waistcoat and formal jacket. Most important of all he'd left his weapons behind. But Marcus refused to do any such thing. He lived as a soldier and like a soldier he refused to put down his arms. He didn't understand that against Tyrel they would be completely useless. Worse than that, they might even cause offence. Edouard knew he had to make him understand where he was, before he opened his mouth and got them both killed.

  “See those beautiful redwood trees brother?” Marcus nodded, surely wondering what he was getting at but not really worried. Not as worried as he should be.

  “Ever wondered why they're so tall?”

  Marcus shook his head.

  “Because the blood and bone of the hundreds or thousands of foolish men who entered this place without the lady's approval, has been used as fertiliser for a century or six.”

  Whether that was actually true or not, Edouard didn't know. It was just one of the many tales that were passed around the inns and alehouses on the quiet nights. But it could be true, and the trees were magnificent. Nowhere else had he ever seen stands of such tall, straight trees welcoming the sun with outstretched branches.

  “Oh!”

  They walked on in silence down the green path, letting everyone see them clearly. Skulking around like school boys wanting to see the pretty woman would not have been well received. In fact it was considered a serious crime by the power that called this place home. Women were not simply creatures to be lusted after. Not for her. Alas one of those pretty women chose that moment to pass in front of them and Edouard watched his brother's eyes travelling after her. It was like an uncontrollable instinct with Marcus. And he knew that another crime was about to be committed the moment his brother opened his mouth.

  “Eyes front and not a word!” Edouard hissed at his brother before he could open his mouth and say something stupid. He was in no mood to listen to Marcus' bawdy remarks about the pretty women. It was the wrong time and most definitely the wrong place for them. Unless of course he actually did want to die. Or worse. And there were far worse things than death awaiting them if they annoyed the hamadryad.

  “But I -.”

  “Look at the ground straight ahead of you and say absolutely nothing. Let me do all the talking.”

  And just to emphasise his words he kicked his brother's leg, causing Marcus to swear at him under his breath. But at least he didn't swear out loud. Maybe some common sense was finally getting through to him? He doubted it though. Marcus was a warrior first and foremost, and he thought like one. He believed in his heart that with his sword in one hand and pistol in the other, he could stand against any enemy. And if they'd all been simple soldiers with swords and pistols he might have been right. But they weren't and he wasn't.

  They walked on in silence for a bit further, down the grassy meadow, between the rows of magni
ficent redwoods, cedars and ash trees, heading for the temple at the far end. But it wasn't an easy silence. Marcus was of course stewing at being so badly treated as he saw it. For his part Edouard was simply trying to keep himself from breaking and running in complete terror. His mouth had gone dry and his palms were sweating.

  It was far too late to run of course; they had been seen. So the only thing to do was to try and talk their way through it. He had some small hope that if they were very careful with what they said, respectful and above all else inoffensive, they might have a chance of leaving the temple in one piece. Tyrel was said to be reasonable. At times. It would have helped though if his stomach would stop churning. In fact the only one of them to be calm was the horse. But then she alone had nothing to fear in this place.

  Of course trouble wasn't far away.

  “May I take your offering?”

  Startled, Edouard looked up to see a demoness staring back at him, hands outstretched as she asked for the reigns to the horse and the sight took him aback a little.

  It wasn't her obvious demonic form that surprised him. He'd seen demons and demonesses before, and the small horns, tail and reddish skin were nothing new. Though they weren't common in Therion they occasionally frequented the seedier streets of the nearby realms and cities, usually making trouble. It wasn't her manner of dress that caught his breath either. Granted the attire of a handmaiden looked strange on her, and the home spun dress that barely covered her bountiful curves left little to the imagination. But then demonesses often wore scandalous clothing to show off their magnificent curves and statuesque figures, and the only difference with this particular outfit was that it was flimsy white cotton and not the leather and steel he would have expected. It was the fact that she was in the temple at all that struck him as very wrong. She seemed a strange choice for a handmaiden. Especially Tyrel's handmaiden.

  Tyrel's calling, for want of a better word, was in the defence of the defenceless. The women, the children and the forests. As such many of those she called her handmaidens were women who had run away or been rescued from terrible situations. From terrible husbands often enough. But demons and demonesses were far from defenceless. In fact they were usually the ones people needed defending from.

  “By the -.”

  Edouard kicked his brother before he could utter another word, and he kicked him hard. Marcus too often thought with his manhood instead of his head, and too seldom checked himself before he opened his mouth. This was never the place for that.

  “What my brother means to say is that we would be most pleased for you to do so.” And to make sure his words were clear he grabbed the reigns out of Marcus' hand and handed them to the demoness.

  “Oh, and I thought he meant to say something else. I had hoped.” She smiled lecherously at them, an expression that left Edouard feeling a little shrivelled up inside. He got the feeling though that Marcus had a different point of view. Certainly the handmaiden did as she looked him up and down.

  “You know it has been a long time.” She stretched a little, arching her back, breathing in deep and letting her breasts stand proudly in front of them, almost bursting free from her dress. “And I can be gentle.”

  Edouard kicked Marcus again before he could open his mouth. He could already see the way his eyes were widening in appreciation and his mouth opening as he thought of something to say. Something stupid. The pain seemed to help a little as it took his brother's thoughts off the voluptuous woman in red and let Edouard answer for him.

  “Indeed it is a kind thought and most generous. But we would not be worthy of your time.”

  “Oh.”

  Did she seem a little disappointed as she walked away, leading Marcus' horse towards the stables? Of course she did. But that was all part of her seduction, including the shockingly mesmerising way in which her hips swayed as she walked. Demons – pure seduction and endless trouble. One way or another they always caused strife, and then they used that to their advantage. Whether it was in the business empire or the bed chamber – they aimed to rule. And his brother was falling for it.

  “She said she could be gentle!” Marcus hissed it at him, upset for some reason, possibly because he was rubbing at his ankle and making strange moaning noises as he did so. But at least he didn't shout.

  “Her gentle would still leave you with your spine crushed and your legs torn off.” What else was there to say, though as a born warrior his brother should have noticed the talons on the ends of her fingers where a woman had fingernails. And as a lecher known from one end of the city to the other, he should have heard the tales of the unfortunate gentlemen who bedded demonesses. Those that had survived. “And you'd have to wear armour to bed.”

  “It still might have been worth it.” Marcus stared ruefully at her disappearing form. One thing he was never lacking in was desire. In that he took after their father, though at least he hadn't yet started on his multiple marriages. Either out of wisdom or vulgarity he settled for enjoying the women of the night instead of making their father's ongoing mistake and marrying them one after the other.

  “It would not, now hush! Eyes on the grass and look straight ahead.” How often did he have to repeat himself he wondered? Marcus truly didn't understand how dangerous this place was for a man. In truth few did. He also didn't yet realise that he’d given his horse away either. When he found out that he had actually made an offering of his riding mare to the temple Marcus was going to be upset. But that was a worry for Edouard to deal with later. If and when by some chance they were allowed to leave the temple. Besides, he should have left his horse with the carriage as Edouard had told him to. He should never have brought her onto the temple grounds.

  Temple. That was the danger men faced here. They thought this was a temple like any other. They heard the word temple, and they saw lovely long grass and peaceful lands filled with demure, modestly dressed woman in homespun robes. Their thoughts turned to the idyllic dreams of youth. Of pleasant summer days and walks in gardens with pretty young women. They had no idea that it was a trap. Until its teeth closed around their throats.

  Of course for all those who were stupid but innocent at heart, there were many more that weren't so pure. Edouard wasn’t sure of the exact number of truly stupid and ill hearted men who had come here demanding their wives or girlfriends back, often at the point of a sword. He did know however, that many fewer had left.

  “You have words to share with the Mother?”

  Edouard looked up to see another of the handmaidens standing in front of them. This one at least was a mortal woman, though still not a dryad. She was human. Humans, demonesses, dryads and even a satyr. He'd seen them all mixed in among the handmaidens as they'd walked. Tyrel it seemed was drawing a very mixed crowd these days. Maybe she always had.

  “Indeed good handmaiden. We bring some words of a terrible loss of life including those of innocent women and children and some questions too if the Honoured Mother will consent to listen to them.”

  And if she wouldn't that would be more than fine by him. They would simply turn on their heels and march right out of there as fast as they could go without giving offence. He didn't like this place. Actually as a man who'd occasionally worked against Tyrel's interests, it scared the seven hells out of him. Unfortunately he had a very sick feeling in the pit of his stomach that she would want to hear his words. If only to set her eyes on the spark that had been annoying her for so many years.

  “Wait here. I will bring your request to the Mother.”

  The handmaiden walked gracefully away, her long white gold hair shining in the sun like a crown, her dress swaying gently as she did so. In her own way Edouard thought, she was every bit as seductive as the demoness. And just as out of place.

  White gold hair hanging all the way down to her waist, white gold eyebrows as well, and skin that almost glowed with a healthy golden tan. She had to be of the Tenarri, a people whose women wore their hair straight down their backs in loose plaits. And whose
homeland lay a thousand leagues and two seas to the east of them. She was a very long way from home, and that distance was measured in more than just leagues.

  The Tenarri were a warrior people, though that in his view was doing them too much credit. They were really a collection of tribal war bands constantly fighting over the land and the right to rule. Or rather the number of people they could rule. Each house was always looking for a way to steal villages and towns off its rivals. That usually amounted to trumping up some imagined charge and then attacking immediately. As for the people of those towns and villages they constantly fought over, they were little more than slaves. No matter which House ruled them, they had to work for them.

  This woman was no peasant though. She was too well spoken for that. Which meant that she had to be from one of the noble houses. Such a woman would always be ready for war as the various families constantly sought the chance to attack. But she was unarmed and that for her had to be shocking. Her people always wore their swords proudly and they knew how to use them. Men and women both. There was a riddle there, a question to be answered, but he knew he would not have the time to ask it.