The Tale of Briton's Fury

by Janelle Garrett

  THE MEN COULDN’T PENETRATE Colin’s shield. They pushed against it, some throwing themselves forward like battering rams, others hacking with staves and clubs. It held, but not for much longer.

  Colin’s strength was dissipating like water through sand. It was getting soaked up, leaving him depleted. How many men had Brock brought with him? Perhaps a dozen?

  Another arrow bounced off the shield, and a ripple of weakening power shot through Colin’s core. Braille groaned, holding a hand to his injured shoulder, the arrow still sticking out of it. Where was Lily? If she had any sense she would run.

  Colin’s heart fell when two men broke off their attack and ran into the woods where he had tossed her. He cast a shaft of the Deep towards them. A fireball from his hand exploded and tossed them to the side, but the shield cracked. Brock grinned and hacked harder with his club, the shimmering shield splintering under his assault. It reinvigorated the others, and they joined him.

  What could he do? His endurance was almost gone. Even now, his knees shook with fatigue, and a headache battered at his skull much like the attacker’s assault on the shield.

  Something flashed in the corner of his eye. A tiny figure ran from the trees, a snarl on her face. Lily. His chest expanded in horror as one of the men raised a blade in his hand, readying to throw.

  She stopped and glared at him. The Deep came alive, roaring and swirling as if blown by a mighty tempest. It centered on her, as if she was the one doing the accessing. Colin’s jaw dropped. But...that was impossible. Women couldn’t access the Deep.

  The Deep wrenched the blade from the man’s grasp, turning in midair, and was thrown back at him. It sliced through his neck, and he fell in a spurt of blood.

  The shield gave way, and with a shout, the men rushed forward, some toward Colin and Braille, some toward Lily. Colin raised a hand to ward off their attack as he stumbled to the ground, but it was unnecessary. All of them were tossed aside like they were leaves in a wind.

  Lily’s eyes widened, as if she was just as surprised as Colin. Their bodies thumped to the ground twenty spans away. Their weapons flew from their hands and attacked them. Colin turned away, bile rising in his throat. The sickening thuds were followed by cracks as bone splintered. Screams were cut off, and then it was over. Silence filled the path and surrounding wood. The birds and animals must have long fled.

  “Lily?” Braille sat up, face sweaty and pinched.

  She stood in shock, staring at the dead bodies. “I...” but nothing followed.

  “You used the Deep,” Colin managed to say. His vision blurred, the pain in his head unrelenting. He raised a hand and gripped his skull. She turned her gaze to him, eyes softening. Then, she moved forward to come and bend down beside him.

  “Are you hurt?” She laid a hand on his head, and immediately the pain was gone. Strength infused his limbs, as if he had slept for a whole day straight.

  “What did you do?” He scrambled away from her touch, confusion and fear fighting for supremacy within. She didn’t seem to notice, instead reaching for the arrow on Braille’s shoulder. Snapping the arrowhead off, she pulled the shaft out. Braille didn’t make a sound, but his face turned white. Lily laid a hand on the wound and the flesh melded together. A blue light infused the area, and then dissipated.

  Braille’s face turned whiter. “You are an accessor.” It wasn’t a question, just a statement.

  Colin’s mind rebelled. “That is impossible. Are you...?” He cleared his throat. “Are you a woman?”

  She sat back on her haunches, face lined with worry. “I am.” She raised an eyebrow at Colin as he looked at her skeptically. “Would you like me to prove it?” She reached to the string on her tunic.

  Heat shot up Colin’s neck. “No, of course not. But, what are you?”

  She stopped and let her hands fall. Sitting cross-legged on the ground, she gazed at him with what seemed to be a measure of fear. “I was hoping you could tell me.” She gazed at the dead men littering the ground, apprehension filling her gaze. “I was afraid this was going to happen. I knew if I didn’t get away from Father I might end up killing him...” Tears formed in her eyes. She turned to look at Colin. “Please! Tell me, am I an accessor? And if so, how is that possible?”

  “I have no idea.” He truly didn’t. Only men were able to access the Deep. There must be something wrong with her. Had the Creator made a mistake? Was there some sort of reason that she should have been born a male but wasn’t?

  “But you must!” She sprang to her feet and grabbed his arm. It took everything in him not to jerk away. “I’ve been experiencing strange happenings for several months now. Things, people, animals, all obeying my will. I can force things to...” she stopped and let her arm drop. “I barely managed to not kill Father when we first met you on the road. But you took care of that for me. Colin, you are a good man. I can sense it. Brother!” She whirled to face Braille. “Surely all your studies have mentioned something about this.”

  Braille’s eyes were alight with sadness, mouth turned down. “I have not, my dear. It is unheard of. What do you mean, you can force things to obey your will?”

  “You just witnessed it!” She threw a hand toward the dead bodies. “I wanted them to die, to protect you. So they did. Their weapons attacked them.”

  “You...what? Accessed the Deep and used it in that way?” Colin frowned. It would have taken an extreme amount of skill to enchant that many weapons to make such fine movements. Slitting a man’s throat was hard enough doing with your bare hands. But casting the Deep in such a way, multiple times, all at the same time? There was no way she had only been an accessor for a few months.

  “I willed it. I didn’t enchant, or cast, as you accessors call it. The Deep obeys me. I have no idea how it works, or why. Just that it does.”

  Colin’s heart thudded in his chest. A measure of fear clawed for escape. He should run. Get as far away from her as possible. But there was something vulnerable about her that made him want to stay, too. Both feelings warred for supremacy within him. Whatever the case, he needed to talk to Radan. And the rest of the Warlock Council. They needed to know about this.

  Braille ran his fingers over his shoulder where the arrow had been just moments ago. “We should get moving. You can explain on the road.”

  Her eyes filled with relief at his words. What, Braille was just going to let her come along? Perhaps it made sense. He was a Brother, after all, and would want to talk to and study her. Write down what she said, keep a log of what had happened.

  They gathered their belongings and the donkeys while Lily buried the bodies. She somehow managed to will the dirt to form a large crater in the sphere to throw the bodies, and then covered it. Colin tried to ascertain how she was manipulating the Deep, but he saw no evidence of its use besides the tossing and turning of the current where she stood. She was right. Casting and enchanting were not involved.

  By the time they made it on the road, much time had passed. Too much. Colin glanced worriedly at the approaching peak of Bat Mountain. They would have to camp there tonight, and the thought made him uneasy.

  COLIN HUGGED HIS CLOAK tighter, the shadows of Bat Mountain flickering in the firelight. Was it true? The Bat served as a cork, keeping the Deep bottled away? If it was, then what did that mean?

  He wasn’t as learned as some, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to muse these things out for himself. He brushed his hands through the Deep, reveling in the power at his fingertips. Something seemed...off. It was wilder. Not as placid as the waters usually were. Was it because of the Bat?

  “Can’t sleep?” Lily sat up in her bedroll, eyeing him. Braille snored across the fire. It was no wonder they both couldn’t rest, his snores could have woken the dead.

  “I thought I’d keep watch.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She slipped from the bedroll and came to sit beside him, all grace and lithe movement. He swallowed and edged slightly away to give her more room on the fallen log on which he sa
t.

  “There is no one else following.” He wasn’t sure, but he thought she shuddered. “Do you think I’m damned?”

  Confusion swept through him. “Damned? What for?”

  “Killing those men like I did. Who does that? Only monsters.” Her voice was low, soft. And filled with what sounded like fear and sorrow combined.

  “You were defending yourself. And saving Braille and me while you were at it. Your father chose his fate.”

  “Perhaps. But did it require such violence?” She gazed up at him, and it was all he could do to keep his heart from escaping his chest. What was it about here that was so compelling?

  “Only you and the Creator could know that.” He tore his eyes away to gaze at the flames. They reached for the sky, shooting sparks as the twigs and branches snapped and crackled.

  “I’m afraid, Colin.” She borrowed next to him, laying her head on his shoulder. “I thought...I don’t know. You are a warlock. I thought that maybe you would have answers.”

  He didn’t dare move, in case she sat up and took her head from his shoulder. Time froze, and ever so gently, he placed an arm around her. She didn’t pull away.

  “I wish I had answers. Somehow, your power must have to do with accessing. But besides that, I have no idea what it is you can do. It seems as if you bend things to your will.”

  “Yes. That’s exactly what it feels like.” She yawned, covering her mouth with her hand. “I should go rest.” She slipped away from him, leaving his side cold. Heart pounding, Colin couldn’t gather his wits about him. It wasn’t until she fell asleep that a thought struck him. If she was bending things to her will, did that include him?

  “TIBERIUS!”

  The call was hissed yet urgent. Tiberius grunted and shifted on his mat in the hut, opening one eye. Radan peered down at him, face wreathed in a frown.

  “What is it?” Tiberius sat up slowly, joints creaking.

  “Yoro is missing. There is a stirring in the village.”

  “Why are you telling me?” He was more fully awake now. Radan’s hair was disheveled, clothes rumpled and stained. When was the last time he had bathed? Or slept?

  “Krysta sent for me since it involves the warlocks. She said that he went searching to see if Briton brought anyone with him. Why did you not inform me?” Radan lent a hand down to help pull Tiberius to his feet. His grip was firm.

  Tiberius reached to grab his walking stick. Radan beat him to it, handing it over. “He went just last night.” Tiberius rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Come.”

  They both walked outside. Liar curse this whole situation. The longer it dragged out, the more annoying it became. All Tiberius wanted was to be left alone, he and all the Jin’tai. Why was that so hard to make happen?

  “Brother!” Rhem ran forward, eyes alight, face flushed. “Radan told you? Yoro is missing. He never returned from his excursion. And Briton is here.”

  “Here? Now?” Radan’s face paled. “The Council isn’t until midday!” He looked over Rhem’s shoulder as if Briton would materialize out of thin air.

  “He waits in the village square.” Rhem took Tiberius’ arm, and they made their way toward the center. The village was small, but it seemed that all the men were gathered, as well as a few women who hadn’t left with Rosa and most of the children. Several eyed Tiberius as he approached, and a crowd that had gathered at the talking stone separated for him. A small, thin man stood on the stone. His hair curled at the nape of his neck, eyes dark. The wind ruffled his brown robe, and if it wasn’t for his reputation, Tiberius wouldn’t have believed someone so plain could hold so much sway over Kings.

  “Briton!” Radan snapped, towering over the small man.

  “My friend,” Briton said, nodding at Radan, but his eyes fastened on Tiberius. There was something about them. The way they lit with a strange fire, as if Briton knew things. As if he could convince you to believe him, no matter what.

  “Where is Yoro?” Rhem asked him.

  Briton raised a brow and shrugged. “I’ve never heard of someone by that name.”

  “He—”

  “Silence, Rhem,” Tiberius said gently. “You have come early for a reason, Master Warlock. Is there something you wish to say?”

  Briton nodded. “I would speak to you in private, Brother, if that suits you.”

  “Nonsense!” Radan’s face reddened, and he took another step toward Briton. “You will return midday as agreed upon!”

  “Ah yes. So you can have the safety of numbers?” Briton laughed. “Do not worry, Radan, the Council will have their say. But first I will talk with the Brother.”

  “Brother, let someone come with you,” Rhem urged, but Tiberius shook him away.

  “Come, my hut is small but will suffice.” Tiberius turned and strode away. The crowd parted yet again, some voicing their unease, but he ignored them. If Briton was going to do him harm, he would have already.

  As soon as he stepped through the door of his hut, he turned and gestured for Briton to take a seat on the rugs laid out on the ground. Briton grinned and lounged as if he was in his own home.

  “What needs to be said in secret, Master?” Tiberius asked, stiffly sitting on the rug. Liar damn these aches and pains!

  “I just wonder what the Brotherhood’s stance is on the war. You are accessors, too, after all.” Briton rubbed at his head, eyeing Tiberius with interest.

  Irritation flared in his chest. “We do not use the Deep as the warlocks do. We have no desire to choose a side.”

  “Whether you like it or not, Brother, you don’t have a choice. No one does. The Kings call for peace, yet they want accessors under their thumb. The warlocks will see reason, and back my plan. Will the Brotherhood?”

  “What plan is that?” Tiberius huffed and shifted on his bottom.

  “Freedom,” Briton replied simply. He shoved himself off his elbow to sit cross-legged. Eyes earnest, he stared Tiberius in the face. “True peace will be achieved when a warlock sits on the Stone and Triumphant Throne.”

  Tiberius laughed. “Will the Kings give up their rights so easily?”

  “The Kings will have no say.” Briton cracked his neck, but his eyes never left Tiberius. “I have made it so that the taking will be easy. The overthrow will be supported by the people. They are as tired of this war as we are. Their fear of warlocks will end if we end the war.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his thighs. “If the Brotherhood stands with the warlocks—”

  “We will not!” Tiberius leaned close, boring Briton with his gaze. “We will stay out of it and attend to our own affairs!” Thankfully, they already had a way to do that. The warlocks just didn’t know it, yet. Well, Colin did, but he was as interested in staying isolated just like the Brothers were. “And our accessing can in no way be compared to warlocks!”

  Briton sighed and shook his head, leaning back on his hands. “Brother, Brother. Please listen to me. Your accessing is exactly the same as ours, you just use it for a very limited purpose. You Delve the mind to free it, or heal it. Is that not the same as what I want?”

  “You want accessors on the throne so that you can control them!” Tiberius stood to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. “Nothing you can say will convince me. You may go to your Council now.” The man really was mad. Mad for power, for prestige...

  “Very well.” Briton stood and looked at Tiberius with what seemed like sadness. “If you so choose, you must bear the consequences. When you are invaded, you cannot complain that I didn’t warn you.”

  “Is that a threat?” Tiberius gripped his walking stick tight.

  “No. Just a statement of reality.” Briton nodded and left the hut. He strode away, confident. If Briton knew anything about the web, things could have gone very differently. Thank the Truth it was such a heavily guarded secret.

  THEY MADE IT TO SHROUD just in in time. Lily and Braille hurried off to find the Brothers, and Colin made his way to the Council Hall. The sun had just reached its zenith when he
edged into the building, staying close to the walls. There were warlocks packed into the space, some sixty in all. The entirety of the Council.

  Radan, Josiah, and the other elected Council leaders sat at a table. They were haggard, gaunt. Tired. A wave of pity rolled through Colin’s chest. These last months had not been easy, least of all on them.

  Josiah looked at Colin and recognition leapt in his eyes. He bent over to whisper to Radan.

  So. He really was going to have to tell his story.

  He stopped and looked about. His eyes fell on a small figure seated in the corner, watching. Briton’s appearance hadn’t changed. Still emanating confidence and ease. Still filled with some sort of power that drew you like a moth to flame. Colin’s heart beat in his chest. He would have to tell his story in front of him?

  “Come, my warlock brothers!” Josiah stood to his feet. “Let us begin.”

  A hush fell over the room. Colin didn’t take his gaze from Briton, who was scanning the room. His eyes fell on Colin, and he gave a nod and smile. Did he know what was coming? He had to.

  “We all know why we are here.” Radan stood as Josiah sat down, face grim and eyes flashing fire. “Briton, you are not welcome. But I’m sure you already know that.” He glared toward the corner where Briton sat before turning back to the assembly. “For three months we have talked, and talked, and come to no conclusions. Today that ends.”

  “Will I have a chance to plead my case?” Briton stood, and a stirring swept through the assembly as they shifted nervously. Colin stayed plastered to the wall. He liked having something at his back.

  “You will, for we are nothing but fair.” Radan turned to Colin. “I would call Master Redstone to speak first.”

  This was it. Sweat broke out on his hands. Colin wiped them on his tunic as he slowly forced his feet forward. Radan nodded encouragingly, and then sat.

  Colin stopped before the table and then turned to the assembly. How many had already heard his recounting? Probably most, but second-hand. Had hiding in the cave been the right thing to do? Too late now. What was done was done.