by Chris Page
You must use your animals more widely. You have superb aerial and great ground power, so why are you not taking the advantages that these offer? As for that Wessex veneficus, I welcome the opportunity to show him what a real veneficus from these lands can do. His bones will rot long before he gets to occupy one of those fancy stones. If his aura is disguised, a most interesting development and one I have never come across before, you must force him to expose himself at every opportunity. The best way to do this is to force him to fire thunderbolts. Even if he can do this and still remain aura-free, you will have the trajectories of the bolts to trace back to his origin. This is where you target your bolts. If you two cannot handle him, then I may have to come over there and show you just how to do it.
Stung by her criticism and implied threat, the twins got to work. Go-ian, realizing that Ran had probably been taken care of by Twilight, put out a call for all the sea eagles within receiving distance to rally to him, their liege-lord, immediately. Within two hours he had seven huge birds, three pairs and a single male, perched alongside him. Three of the birds, two male and one female, were the sons and daughter of Boma and Ran and had an added incentive to serve Go-ian well. He explained their task. Using a simple grid pattern to ensure there was no territorial duplication, he instructed the birds to search the entire south-western coast, islands, estuaries, and rivers for the missing three thousand Viking under Olaf Tryggvason’s command. With their last known sighting being the approaches to Lyme Bay, that’s where they would start. Using their excellent olfactory, sight, and understanding of the seas, each bird should follow the prevailing winds and tides. Three thousand men, if still alive, and thirty long ships took a great deal of hiding from the air. Whatever Twilight had done with them would involve water. If they were dead, there would be some evidence of their burial and the long ships. They were to fly until totally exhausted, then fly some more. As soon as they saw anything remotely suspicious they were to report back to their master. Go-ian waved them away, and seven mighty wing sets lifted into the air to carry out his bidding.
Go-uan sent out a similar rallying call to the bears of Wessex. Due to the time it would take for them to get to Winchester, where she did not want them, various meeting points were arranged along the way to Chippingham. As prophesied by Twilight, as midnight approached she had seventy-five big, brown, and ferocious bears, fangs dripping and noses filled with the scent of Celtic flesh, loping along with the mounted lead Vikings.
‘I would like to ask you a very special favour,’ said Desmond as he and Twilight sat in the night clouds high over the southern edge of the Savernake.
‘It wouldn’t have something to do with the welfare of a certain warrior lady, would it?’
‘That’s the trouble with being a companion to a veneficus,’ grumbled the young man. ‘Can’t have any secrets of my own, the all-seeing eye sees all.’
‘A blind man could have seen it. The moment the young Gode strode into the light cast by the campfire, your mouth dropped open and you were smitten. They could hear your heart beating out on the front line.’
‘Was it that obvious?’
‘No more than a crow on a white sheep’s back.’
‘D’you think she noticed?’
Twilight pondered this for a moment.
‘No, I don’t think she did, even though you almost drowned her in drool. The possibility of leading her men on this mission fully occupied her and obscured the glorious sight of this flaxen haired, pigtailed troubadour fawning all over her.’
The spellbinder was enjoying himself.
‘You can be really cruel sometimes,’ sighed Desmond. ‘But, if you see that she doesn’t come to any harm it will be worth it.’
‘I’ll do my best, but remember, this is war and the enemy is a ferocious, ravening swarm that has no moral boundaries. Women, men, animals, all the same to them when it comes to killing.’
‘I just hope she doesn’t get captured.’ Desmond shuddered, remembering what the vile marauders had done in Winchester.
‘Let’s get a little lower. The pica are beginning to bring back sightings.’
The first group of Viking came clattering down the track running parallel to the Savernake. Riding bareback with nothing but a crude jute rope through the horse’s mouth for guidance and their shields looped over their backs, seven helmeted invaders accompanied by two large brown bears kicked their exhausted and frightened mounts onward.
Twilight’s voice spoke into Gode’s ear.
‘There are seven raiders and two bears. I will take care of the bears.’
With fifty mounted men each side of the road, Gode signalled ten from each side to attack.
As the Viking came abreast of their hidden positions, twenty riders with long, wooden-handled spears held in the throwing position burst out from the dark forest. Led by Gode, the first group released their spears at point-blank range, hauled their horses to a stop, and quickly dismounted, drawing their short swords. The second group did exactly the same from the other side but slightly behind them so as not to hit their own men . . . or woman. Taken completely by surprise, the Viking tried to haul their spent horses to a stop. Every one of them had been hit by at least two spears, some lethally. The dead toppled to the ground, whilst those still able to fight tried in vain to unsling their shields, two of which were impaled to their backs by the thrown spears. At odds of four to one it was the work of a few moments for Gode’s men to cut down the wounded Viking.
The two bears loping along slightly behind the bunch had come to a halt at the first sight of the attackers. Raising themselves onto their back legs they both let out a roar and got ready to charge the attackers as they released their spears.
Only to become completely immobile as an iridescent look from the spell-binder’s coal black eyes struck them to the spot.
Quickly retrieving their bloodied spears, Gode’s men dragged the dead Viking into the undergrowth and slapped their spent horses onward. Twilight transformed the bears deep into the dark forest.
‘At least fifty men with five bears two minutes away,’ Bell’s voice chirped at him. ‘Two of the bears are out front.’
The young astounder relayed the message to Gode, who signalled for all her men to attack from both sides. ‘Watch the two bears out front. They will probably get the blood scent of the dead Viking before they get to you.’
‘Can you handle them?’ she asked.
‘If I freeze them they’ll be in the way. I’ll look after the other three.’
‘Leave the leading two bears to us,’ Gode said, signalling five men from each side to concentrate on the bears.
With the thunder of fifty horses’ hooves growing louder, the mounted men from Combe steeled themselves for their second attack.
Until a double salvo of thunderbolts streaked in on them, blowing most of them from their horses.
The twins had released their thunderbolts from high in the clouds quite a way out. Twilight had sensed the thunderbolts split seconds before they were released but did not have enough time to get off his own thunderbolts to counter them. Fizzing four bolts at the sky position given away by the telltale auras of the twins, he quickly changed his and Desmond’s position.
Most of Gode’s men from both sides of the forest track had lost their horses and many were dead. The approaching Viking had come to a halt with the explosions, dismounted, unslung their shields, and drawn their weapons. The two lead bears veered off into the forest.
Gode was unseated by the thunderbolts, and her dead horse now lay alongside her with its guts flowing out. Dazed and confused by the sudden turn of events, she staggered to her feet.
Just as the fifty Viking charged.
Ebroin, Head Druid and charismatic leader of the Order of Lacock, Supreme Holder of the Wellsprings of Inspiration, Learned Protector of the Triads, Healer, Teacher and Inspirer of the Celtic Fire Festi
vals, Protector of the Golden Mistletoe Sickle, and Master of Cosmology, called all the senior and novice druids together and explained the situation. Using his deep, resonant voice and well-honed skills in the mesmeric arts, he outlined a rather different scene to that put to him by his sister and King Alfred. The Norse, although a rather fierce nation, were deeply imbued with the deities and traditions of their culture; their reputation for human slaughter was deeply flawed and more a question of misunderstandings. They were, at heart, a nation of farmers and seafarers, mothers and fathers looking for more fertile lands to settle. In his opinion as long-time leader of the Order, this was an opportunity to broaden the druidical range to include another civilization, and, without showing any undue favour or bias, they should greet the Viking as guests in a humble and open manner and offer their leaders food and drink. It had worked before with scavengers from various tribes and in so doing had spread the word of druidism. It would work again. Indeed, the special barley mead brewed here in the abbey and for which the order was justly famous would be a welcome aid to the process.
There followed a great deal of discussion among the senior druids, and it soon became obvious that despite his undoubted powers of persuasion and reasoned argument, a number of them were against Ebroin’s approach of appeasement. Many of them had heard stories of the lowlanders’ brutality, and some, with families and lands further east on the Kent coast, had practical experience of raiding parties.
Finally a decision was taken and endorsed by Ebroin. Those who wanted to leave could do so without any recriminations. They would be welcomed back but only as novices; seniority in the Order would be sacrificed on the back of their defection in the face of the leader’s advice. Novices would not be welcomed back. Twenty minutes later, seven senior and eight novice druids walked out of the gate of the abbey with a small blanket full of a few possessions over their shoulders, and headed west. Interestingly, for those who study these matters, the school of ravens that had lived in the abbey towers since it was built by the Romans three hundred and fifty years previously also left. This had never happened before; the gray-hooded birds had become a synonymous backdrop to the abbey. Ravens were, however, related to the pica, and although there was little interaction between the two species, they took serious notice of the warnings passed on by their black-and-white cousins . . . unlike the bulk of the druids who chose to remain.
The remaining eighty-five druids began to prepare food and mead-cups and garlands of mistletoe for the arrival of their ‘misunderstood’ northern guests.
‘Quick, get her out of there,’ screamed Desmond in Twilight’s ear.
As the fifty Viking charged at the unseated and bloodied Combe cavalry, the thunder of many more hooves mixed with the bellowing of blood-scenting bears could be heard. Spurred on by the explosions taking place ahead of them, other Viking bands began to home in on the scene. Another salvo of thunderbolts landed in the midst of the carnage as the twins, firing and moving rapidly around the sky, pressed home the attack on the Combe cavalry.
The dazed Gode, blood streaking down her face, turned to face the oncoming Viking, the first of which with huge axe raised was almost upon her. Aided by the leading bears slashing and gnawing at the disorganized and bloodied cavalry and their thrashing horses, the charging Viking began their battle howl. Gode raised her arm in a futile attempt to fend off the double-handed cleaving death strike, which was flashing down upon her unprotected head.
It connected with nothing but the tree trunk against which, a moment earlier, the defenceless Gode had been leaning.
Desmond gulped a huge sigh of relief but kept quiet as the young moonshiner beside him had his magical hands very full as they zipped around the sky, dodging thunderbolts and returning them. Homing in on the twins’ quickly changing positions, Twilight called to the pica to keep clear of the area. The twins began returning thunderbolts to the source of his trajectories as advised by their mother but were always too late. As soon as they returned fire he was gone. Suddenly, for a fleeting moment the Wessex veneficus appeared standing alongside his companion high above the tree line. Both twins fizzed off a multiple salvo before immediately moving to a different position.
Which landed with earth-shattering explosions in the middle of the rapidly advancing Viking.
‘Time to go,’ said Twilight.
‘What did you do with Gode?’
‘She is here, safe.’
They appeared in a clearing some distance away from the fighting. Gode was sitting in the centre with eyes closed and sword in her right hand. The blood streaming down her face from a wound to her head was beginning to congeal. Twilight motioned for Desmond to speak.
‘Gode?’ said the enamoured young man quietly.
Her eyes sprang open and she began to raise the sword.
‘It’s me, Desmond, and Twilight the Wessex veneficus. We have come to take you back to King Alfred’s camp.’
‘My men?’ she mumbled. ‘What happened to my men?’
‘They’re all dead,’ said Twilight bluntly. ‘Most of them were killed along with their horses by the thunderbolts. The others were hacked to death by the Viking and bears. Take hold of my hand.’
‘Are you sure they’re all dead?’
‘Absolutely. Come.’
Later that day the pica delivered a message to their liege-lord. On the way to Chippingham some of the Viking had come upon Stonehenge. Guessing that it was an important place to the Celts, they had slung ropes around two of the massive cross stones and pulled them to the ground. Only the commands of their chieftain to get a move on toward Chippingham had stopped them doing any further damage. It was one thing to raise hovels to the ground as they passed through; now they were tampering with a force far greater than anything mortal. This was one of only two sites in the whole of the Britains that was beyond human reach, an edifice placed and used for a purpose that governed the entrapment of the cowering dead at the annual Equinoctial Festival handled by Twilight. If the Viking were victorious at Chippingham, the second site would be next on their list of visits.
Avebury and the great semicircle of ninety-nine destiny stones.
Desecration of that sacred place must never be allowed.
By midmorning the main Viking force was nearing Lacock. Advised by the twins of the Druidical Order and its purpose and potential use for information, Guthrum decided to send a scouting party forward accompanied by the twins. He was extremely surprised when they came back and said the entire abbey had turned out to meet them in their best white cloaks and had placed tables of food out for the occasion.
‘It’s a trap,’ he growled to the twins.
‘If it is,’ replied Go-uan, ‘we cannot find any sign of it. These druids are essentially pacifists more interested in spreading the word of their cult. They could have run or even gone behind Alfred’s lines, but they chose to stay and entreat with us. Something else that might be useful. We caught up with a small band of druids who had chosen to leave. Under threat of a very bloody death they told us that the leader of the cult, a druid called Ebroin, is the brother of Alfred’s wife. We showed our gratitude by leaving them with the bears. They will be crimson smears on the Wessex landscape by now.’
The jarl thought for a moment.
‘This land is full of religions, cults, and orders, all going their separate ways. We will show them that the only true way is that of Ymir, Father of the Giants and the Norse deity led by Odin and Thor.’
The twins bowed in homage to his words.
‘How many are there at the Order?’ growled Guthrum, getting back to his warrior role.
‘No more than eighty-five. They are unarmed.’
‘Any sign of that devil spawn of a veneficus?’
‘He is licking his wounds with the main army in Chippingham. We wiped out a hundred of their cavalry last night and only lost ten of our own.’
Guthrum
grunted his satisfaction. That was the sort of odds he liked.
‘Are you sure about this veneficus? He cost us seven hundred lives in Winchester. If you are not sure, you know what’s waiting for you.’ He gripped his huge axe handle to emphasize the point.
‘We are sure. Although this spawn of the devil called Twilight has perfected a method to shield his aura and therefore remain undetectable to us, we have found another way. As you know before we released his companion, Desmond, we placed a small aura plant on him. That’s how we were able to surprise them with our thunderbolts when they tried to ambush us in the forest last night. We detected Desmond, and where Desmond is, his rune-slaying, whore-mother of a moonshiner will be close by. At this moment the plant tells us that they are both with Alfred’s main force.’
Guthrum looked across at Ove Thorsten, head of the chieftains and his number two. A barely perceptible nod passed between them.
‘Thorsten will lead a small force to smash the druids into a crimson spume and send their pagan souls to Hel. We will gorge on their entrails and leave the rest to the weevils. Then burn the buildings and eat the food. We will capture and interrogate this Ebroin and four of his seniors. Tyr will bless our efforts with the sacrifice of these druids with much feasting around his heavenly table. ‘
‘Tyr,’ shouted Thorsten, licking his lips in anticipation of the slaughter.
‘I don’t think that the twins suddenly turning up at the ambush site when they did was the result of what the long magus called ‘the otherworld consequences of spell-bindery,’’ said Twilight thoughtfully. ‘What he meant by this was the effect of an enchantment having a positive outcome by chance alone. The twins’ creativity and timing were too immaculate for chance.’
‘Do you think they knew where we were?’ asked Desmond.
‘I know so.’
‘How, if your aura was undetectable?’
‘You, my young companion.’ He reached out to one of Desmond’s blond pigtails and extracted a small hazelnut. ‘This was the main reason they released you, not my threat to their mother. They placed this in your hair. It holds a very faint glow of their own aura signature, which they can detect from a reasonable range. They guessed that wherever you were, I would be close by, and this was their way of countering our lack of an aura. This makes us traceable.’