Cill Darae

by Donald D. Allan

  “It’s not often I see you at a loss for words. It’s pleasant.”

  Heather screeched and started toward James with her hands in claws. Dog rose from the floor and barked at Heather and she stopped and stared at him. They all stared at Dog until he sat on the floor.

  Enough, where to next?

  Katherine and Heather stared at Dog. James frowned when no one said anything. “Um, what did Dog say?”

  Heather looked at James. “He said enough, where to next?”

  James rose and ruffled the top of Dog’s head. “I knew I liked you best, Dog.” James sauntered out through the door.

  Katherine hurried down the tunnel and back into the chamber. As always, the walls inside the chamber mimicked the time of day outside. The sun was just up and inside the chamber the sun was glinting through the gaps in the trees of the forest. Katherine had just spoken to Will and Nadine. She described what they had found and asked what they wanted them to do next. The lack of bones annoyed Will, and he said as much. Nadine had argued openly with Will and Katherine felt worry. For two people so very much in love they seemed to be more openly in disagreement with each other. It did not bode well.

  The angst was making Katherine long harder to escape the shores of Belkin. Every day she worried about what was happening beyond the seas. Was the virus I unleashed truly eradicating Erebus? She needed proof. Otherwise all was for nothing. She knew Gaea was fallible. And she wondered if perhaps this business with the bones was another error on her part.

  Belkin was not faring well, according to Nadine. Brent Bairstow was an excellent military leader, but a terrible political one. The people living in the villages and cities had not fully understood the sudden death of President Healy and the oath of fealty from the military toward Brent. Trouble brewed everywhere and everyone doubted what was truth and what was fantasy. And Brent was not responding to the threat well. What they were hearing from Munsten was the church was having a direct influence on Brent. He rarely listened to anyone but the church vicars; all of whom had descended on Munsten for some reason. He trusted few others, especially with Councils who had worked with Healy for years.

  This is our world now. Gaea is gone, and we are left to our own devices and fears. Belkin needs a firm hand and Brent is too scared to flex his own muscle. And Will seems intent to distance the draoi from the politics of the land.

  Katherine paused once she entered the chamber. She could see Heather and James sitting at the table. Heather thought she was fooling everyone, but Katherine could see the admiration she had for James. I’m sure James knows it too and feels the same. Thankfully, with James not part of the draoi bond, the bond wasn’t sending that information for all to see and feel. That would be devastating for Heather and her family. Katherine felt sorry for them both. They could never be together. It’s easier to pretend to hate each other, I suppose.

  Dog bounded out of the building toward her and Heather and James looked hopefully out the door to Katherine. She entered, petting Dog, and stood just inside the doorway. “This place needs a third chair.”

  James frowned. “What did Will say?”

  Heather frowned at James. “Whit did Nadine say?”

  “Not much other than to continue our search. We have to find the bones, according to both Will and Nadine. We included Brent by using the draoi Lana Turner who’s posted in the castle. Brent had some questions and then pointed us to Munsten.”

  “Munsten? How so? We just came from there!”

  “He says Benjamin Erwin's belongings are stored in the lower levels of the Museum of the Revolution. He’s says we’re welcome to rummage through them.”

  Heather looked crestfallen. Katherine came forward and rested a hand on her shoulder for a moment. Heather looked up at Katherine and clasped the hand just as she pulled it away. “It's braw. Braw. At least it's in th' right direction.”

  Dog whined a little and placed his muzzle in Heather's lap. She stroked his head absently.

  “I suppose,” said James. “We are certain of this direction? Searching the belongings of Benjamin? What do we hope to gain?”

  Katherine sighed. “There’s nothing else here. No clue. Which is strange. Gaea meant for us to find the bones when the time is right. The clue led here and now nothing. We’ve come to a wall.”

  Heather shook her head but continued to rub Dog’s head. “Ah hawp we trust Gaea in this. She led Analise 'n' Benjamin 'ere wi' th' bones. Then something happened atween th' twa o' thaim. Analise broke fae th' draoi, imprisoned Benjamin, 'n' teuk th' bones wi' her. Benjamin wouldn’t ken whaur she wid hae taken thaim. Bit we ken she left him 'ere. Thare haes tae be a clue elsewhere. Something in thair bygane that micht point a wey. Gaea knew we wid fin' it. Otherwise, we ur done.”

  Katherine chewed her lip. “I don’t like it. This isn’t a direction I would willingly take. But Nadine and Will believe Benjamin's belongings will point the way, and so now we do that. I hope they’re right.” Katherine saw Dog now had his eyes closed enjoying Heather’s attention. “Dog, stop that.”

  Dog stepped away from Heather and shook his body. Bleah, he thought. Do we leave soon?

  Soon, yes. Were you not following along with the conversation?

  Um, no. I was concentrating on not moving so Heather wouldn’t stop.

  James stirred from where he was flipping through the journal. “I don’t get it. Why would Analise steal the bones away? Clearly Gaea wanted them found at some point. How could a Cill Darae abandon her draoi?”

  Heather grimaced. “Thay lived thro' th' Purge. Thay gawked a' th' draoi perish aroond thaim 'n' yit cuid dae nothin’. It changed thaim. It hud tae.”

  Katherine shook her head. “Most likely they were inside here when it happened. They were isolated from the world. They wouldn’t have felt the draoi bonds break. And Benjamin says nothing about it in his journal. They couldn’t have been aware. They missed the deaths and torture.”

  “And then… started Heather and then raised a hand to her mouth in horror. “'n' then Analise cam oot 'n' wid hae found a world empty o' draoi!”

  Katherine nodded. “Yes. That would have convinced her that she had been right.”

  They looked at each other in silence imagining the horror. Katherine understood better than anyone, other than Dog, of the horror of being severed from Gaea and the world.

  James coughed and slid the journal around so the two women could see a page and he pointed out a passage. “This is interesting. Benjamin mentions a power source for Gaea. Do you know what that is?”

  Katherine looked at the passage and shook her head. “I read that. He mentions Analise talking about it, but he says here he doesn’t believe it. There’s no other mention of it. I did sense it was a point of friction between them.”

  “I agree,” said James. “What would a power source for Gaea be? I thought she was everywhere.”

  “She was everywhere. She was part of all life. Like Erebus. Her power came from each individual mote. I don’t know how it worked, but I can’t see there being one power source for all that. Do you Heather?”

  Heather shook her head. “Na. Ah don’t see howfur. How come dae ye mention it, James?”

  “Because if I was Analise, and I wanted to upset Gaea I would head to where I thought her source of power lay.”

  “And you think she knew where that was?”

  “Yes, and I think Benjamin might have, too. But kept it hidden from Analise.”

  Katherine slowly nodded. “So, Munsten is a done deal. We examine Benjamin’s belongings in the museum. Maybe something there can point the way. Maybe to this power source.”

  Heather smiled. “Ah hae hope, Katherine. Ah hae hope.” She glanced at James and found him looking at her.

  Three

  Munsten and Rigby Farm, July 902 A.C.

  BRENT BAIRSTOW SAT at his breakfast table in his private chambers. The window next to Brent filled the entire wall and allowed an unobstructed view of the city of Munsten and its harbour. Pres
ident John Healy had once enjoyed the view the table offered. He imagined Healy had probably gloated looking out over a city he once ruled with the trappings of a madman. As Brent watched smoke drift up lazily in the still air from the chimneys dotting the buildings, he could imagine that all the people below him were at peace and had no fear for their futures. He knew those thoughts were nothing but flights of fancy. The city and realm were in turmoil. Nothing he did seemed to make it better.

  His breakfast lay untouched before him. Fine china and shining silverware lay unused before silver platters which offered everything he could want for breaking his fast. It annoyed him. Every day he told his caste-lain to provide him only with tea and some toast. And yet they continued to provide for him as they would for John Healy. Decades of pattern were hard to break.

  He sighed and looked at his breakfast guests: Robert Ghent, the head of the Judicial Council, and Robert Hargrave, the head of the Privy Council. As normal, they refused to eat when they saw Brent was eating nothing. They sipped their tea and cast hungry glances at the platters of sausages, fried tomatoes and mushrooms, smoked fish, baked beans in molasses, and poached eggs. They met once a week in Brent’s chambers to go over the more serious issues plaguing the land.

  Brent set down his teacup. “Please, gentlemen. Eat! Don’t let it go to waste.”

  The two Roberts looked at one another but made no move to take any of the food.

  “I insist.”

  The two men looked back at Brent and then Hargrave, his large belly already pushing at the table, reached out and spooned baked beans onto his plate. Ghent hesitated a moment and then filled his own plate with poached eggs and smoked fish.

  “Good,” said Brent and sat back in his seat. He watched as the men filled their plates and he allowed them a moment to savour the food before speaking. “I understand the remains of the Cian-Oirthear army have sailed.”

  Hargrave nodded and chewed. Ghent glanced at Hargrave and spoke for him. “Yes, sir. They left yesterday morning with the tide. They were most upset about having to leave their horses behind. You would think we were taking their children from them. Such wails! Knight General Kingsmill had to have many subdued.”

  Brent nodded. He had heard the same tale. “And the people? I heard they had moved down to the docks in protest. Rocks and garbage were thrown? I heard two of our soldiers were hurt.”

  Hargrave nodded and swallowed before speaking. “Yes, sir. Except it was three soldiers, not two. One is in the hospital under the care of the chirurgeons. Nasty head wound. It is not certain if he will survive.”

  “Has the draoi Lana been summoned?”

  A look of displeasure flitted across Hargrave’s face. “I am told she was summoned. Edward insisted on it. He spends all his time with the chirurgeons and that draoi girl. He frequently skips out on his royal training. His tutors are most annoyed.”

  Brent scowled. “Find out if Lana has appeared. You should know that, not guesswork.”

  Hargrave looked surprised. “Sir, if I may. That is not my function. Matters of the military and the day-to-day activities of the chirurgeons are not my bailiwick.”

  Brent leaned forward. “It is your job to know everything that is going on in this city and the realm. Look into it and report back.”

  Hargrave’s mouth drew thin. A splash of red crested up his jowls and high up his cheeks in angry splotches. Ghent looked confused. Hargrave opened his mouth and then closed it. Finally he opened it again. “Regent Bairstow, I am the head of your Privy Council. My role is to advise you on matters of the Realm. I am not your batman as I understand the role and position your army has. If you want to know more of minor military matters, I suggest you seek out the Knight General.”

  Anger rose fast and hot within Brent. His first impulse was to berate the man. He would never have suffered such insubordination from his juniors when he was a military man. The thought of the military suddenly kept Brent’s mouth shut. I’m not military anymore, and neither is Hargrave. He’s quite right, by the Word. I hate this job. I’m not cut out to be a Regent.

  Hargrave must have sensed his small victory for he smiled and selected another poached egg to place on his plate. Ghent looked unhappy and uncomfortable. Brent looked out the window and sighed.

  Below him the rising sun was brightening the morning and lighting up the streets, buildings, and parks. He looked back at the two men. “Fair enough, Robert. I am new to this role. I will make mistakes.”

  Hargrave had the face of someone who felt he was the better man. “Sir, you’ve been the Regent for many months. I would think you would have figured out much more than this. I am the head of your Privy Council. Robert here is the head of your Judicial Council. Our roles and responsibilities are quite clear and have been explained to you many, many times.”

  Brent stilled. Hargrave, oblivious to the change in Brent stuffed a large sausage into his mouth and bit down on the skin. The sausage burst and grease dripped down his double chin. Ghent moved back slightly in his seat putting a little distance between himself and Hargrave. When Hargrave finally looked up at Brent, he saw the open anger and froze.

  When Brent spoke, he started at a whisper. “You go too far, Hargrave. That kind of insolence has no place here, or anywhere. I warn you for the last time. Be careful of what you say in my presence. I am the Regent, not some lackey in the Privy Council you can bully and jeer over.

  “While you sit and stuff your face with sausages the realm reels with turmoil. I have asked the Privy Council countless times to provide me with options on how to best deal with the problem. You have offered me nothing but platitudes. Every day the number of crimes in the city rise. The army is having to quell violence and protests across the land. They are stretched thin—too thin—and every day I turn to you as the head of the Privy Council to advise me.”

  His voice had risen in volume and Brent slammed the table with a fist. The two Roberts jumped in their seats. “So advise me! Advise me on how to restore peace and prosperity to this realm before it all gets dumped down the latrine! Do your bloody job!”

  Hargrave’s face was flushed completely red. Brent could see his words had done little to change Hargrave's attitude. If anything, the man looked more stubborn than ever. Hargrave set down his fork and then lifted the napkin off his lap and dabbed at his mouth. He set the napkin down on his plate of food and then struggled to stand. He bowed once to Brent and then left without waiting to be dismissed.

  Brent looked at Ghent. The man looked frightened and probably wanted to be elsewhere. “Relax, Robert. I have no issue with you. You have advised me in all the legalities of running the Realm and the court.”

  Ghent looked relieved and settled more comfortably in his seat. He reached for his fork, touched it, thought better of it, and pulled his hand back. He looked at a loss for what to do with his hand and settled it on his lap.

  Brent smiled. “I need to know what powers I have over the Privy Council. Who decides who heads it?”

  Ghent smiled a weak smile and coughed gently into his hand. “Ah, that would be you, Regent. We serve at your pleasure.”

  “Excellent. Is there a formal process?”

  “Healy would simply have replaced the head. There is no formal process or paperwork to make it happen. It is a private council, sir.”

  Brent nodded. “Excellent. Now. Other matters. I want to increase the court sessions and provide a lower court system.”

  Ghent looked startled. “A lower court system? Whatever do you mean?”

  “The court is hearing all manner of trivial cases. I want crimes divided into a higher and lower grouping. Much like we have in the military. Commanding officers have powers to try and sentence soldiers who have committed less serious crimes. The more serious crimes go to courts martial and more senior judges. We also have a jury system. I would like to see it applied to the lower court.”

  “Military law, I see,” Ghent looked thoughtful.

  “No, not military law, just the
system of trying cases.”

  “I see. I will speak with the Knight General and ask for advice on the matter, is that acceptable?”

  “Perfectly acceptable, just make it happen soon.”

  "Yes, sir. Now, if I may, I would like to brief you on the more serious crimes coming to your court this week. The Royal Laws in some cases can be quite confusing and often seeming to contradict one another, I assure you that the way forward is quite clear as far as the Realm is considered…"

  Will Arbor added the henbane to the mortar and then looked about his table for the pestle. It seemed to have disappeared. He took a step back and looked under the table. He couldn’t see it anywhere. He crouched down and moved the supplies stored on the shelf built under the table. He paused and thought and then stood up. There it is, right next to the mortar. How had I missed it? He snatched it up and returned to the mortar work.

  Lately his thoughts did not seem his own. He felt disconnected. I wish Gaea was still here. She would be able to sort through all this. The pressures of being Freamhaigh were weighing on him and he was certain this was to blame. Nadine agreed with him. The truth was, the draoi were unhappy. They had spent weeks spreading Life Salt across the realm. Now activated, the motes the Life Salt was made of were duplicating and spreading and touching all life. Will could feel his powers reaching farther and farther. Gaea had normally worked with nature to ensure the harmony was maintained. Now that role fell to him and Nadine. The good news was it required little but their attention, although occasionally they had to interfere directly. The draoi wanted a larger role. Will disagreed. He had interfered with the politics of the realm too much already. The role of the draoi was limited to maintaining the harmony of nature. He would not let them become direct influencers of the politics in the realm. That path leads to disaster, thought Will. Our powers are too great.

  The draoi openly argued amongst themselves and Will felt like a parent at times; he chastised and berated. Far too often he had to come between the draoi and making them see reason over some simple matter. Across their draoi bond, tempers flared. Gone were the days of contented bliss amongst the draoi. Gone were the feelings of strong family bonds. They were now an organisation, ruled by Will and Nadine.