Decimus Fate and the Butcher of Guile: (Decimus Fate - Book 2)

by Peter A Flannery

  ‘What do you want, Carduus?’ asked Fate with a degree of impatience. The faerie lord belonged to his past and he had no wish to revisit it, especially if it meant incurring the ire of a faerie queen.

  ‘I came to warn you,’ said Carduus.

  ‘Warn me about what?’

  ‘Bohr’s power is growing.’

  Carduus was referring to Oruthian Bohr, the emperor’s personal sorcerer.

  ‘Bohr’s power was always going to grow,’ said Fate.

  ‘But he is getting bolder too,’ replied the faerie and now Fate’s eyes narrowed in interest. ‘He set a trap for one of the border sentinels,’ Carduus went on. ‘Lured her with what appeared to be a demonic breach within the emperor’s grounds.’

  ‘It wasn’t?’ queried Fate and Carduus shook his head.

  ‘It was a ruse… but the sentinel was fooled and she pushed through the veil.’

  ‘Into the grounds of the palace?’

  Carduus inclined his head.

  ‘If she broke through without invitation then the sentinel’s life would be forfeit.’

  ‘And there it is.’ Carduus’s tone conveyed a sense of finality.

  ‘Has she been executed?’

  ‘Worse,’ said Carduus, but then he paused. ‘Bohr has constructed a chamber,’ he explained. ‘A magical chamber lined with blue tiles.’

  ‘I’ve heard of it,’ said Fate.

  ‘The chamber is designed to absorb the magical power of anything placed within it, and to transfer that energy to the person operating the device.’

  Fate’s gaze darkened.

  ‘Has the queen responded?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s nothing she can do,’ said Carduus. ‘The law is clear. The sentinel was killed, her power was absorbed by Bohr, and Lonrúil Croí could only rage in her garden and scorch the air with her fury.’

  ‘And what has any of this got to do with me?’

  ‘Why nothing, as yet. But I don’t think Bohr will be satisfied with the power of one unfortunate sentinel.’ Carduus walked in a small circle until he stood with his back to Fate. ‘There are tremors in the wilderlands that suggest he is trying to break The Bond.’

  The gold in Fate’s eyes flickered with a dangerous light.

  ‘And I’ve even heard whispers from the human world… rumours suggesting that the Sacred Trees should no longer be given protection.’

  ‘Even Bohr wouldn’t be so foolish,’ said Fate.

  ‘Not yet, perhaps,’ said Carduus. ‘For now, I think he has his sights set on Confluence.’

  Fate shook his head. ‘It’ll be years before Bohr is strong enough to challenge the council at Confluence.’

  ‘Not if he keeps using his blue-tile chamber to drain the power of sentinels.’ Carduus was still standing with his back to Fate, but now he turned slightly, speaking over his left shoulder. ‘And not if he keeps arresting members of the Arcanium.’

  For the first time, Fate seemed genuinely alarmed.

  ‘Who?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know any names,’ said the faerie. ‘Humans live so short a time, it’s barely worth remembering their names.’

  ‘Is that the only reason you’re here?’ asked Fate. ‘To warn me about a threat to Confluence.’

  ‘I thought it was important,’ said the faerie. ‘But I’m also here to offer my help.’ Turning back to face Fate, he placed a hand on the crystal hilt of his sword and a green light spilled from the scabbard as the blade began to glow. ‘You know that Bohr had a hand in my downfall, and if Bohr is to be opposed then I would like to help.’

  ‘I don’t need your help?’ said Fate, but Carduus just laughed.

  ‘You might,’ he said as the cloud of dandelion seeds began to swirl around him. ‘Now that you have unmanned yourself… you might.’ The blur of silvery motes grew faster until the dark-robed figure was obscured.

  Up in the trees, the blue-winged Lannari dissolved back into glowing blue orbs before flying into the swirling maelstrom of seeds.

  ‘Just remember,’ said the voice of Carduus as Fate raised a hand against a sudden gust of wind. ‘If ever you need him… the Lord of the Thistleblade Sword is at your command.’

  And with that, the cloud of swirling dandelion seeds vanished and Fate was left alone on the driveway of his home. He was about to turn away when he noticed a single dandelion seed floating towards him. He tried to swat it away, but it swirled around his hand and came to rest on the left breast of his robes. With a snort of irritation he removed it and flicked it away into the air, but the stubborn seed floated on hidden currents and returned to rest against his chest.

  ‘Just plant the seed,’ said a disembodied voice and with that the presence of the faerie lord was gone.

  Shaking his head in irritation, Fate turned back to the house.

  25

  The Taming of the Hound

  ‘Is there a problem?’ asked the Tutor as Fate returned to the basement.

  ‘No,’ said Fate. ‘Just an acquaintance from my past.’

  ‘Carduus Thistleblade,’ said the Tutor, and Motina just shrugged as Fate gave his housekeeper an accusing glance.

  ‘What did he want?’ she asked as Fate crouched down to take the edge of the net from Motina.

  ‘He came to give me some news,’ said Fate, tightening his grip as the manitu continued to struggle.

  ‘News?’ pressed Motina, and Fate gave a sigh. It was clear that he did not want to talk about it, but their curiosity had been aroused.

  ‘Bohr has made a move against Confluence.’

  ‘So soon?’ Motina’s voice held a note of concern, and even the Tutor’s expression darkened at the mention of Bohr’s name. ‘What’s he done?’

  ‘He’s arrested a member of the Arcanium.’

  ‘The mage council of Confluence,’ said the Tutor.

  ‘That was a bold move,’ said Motina. ‘Do you want me to find out who it was?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Fate. ‘But first, I want you to help us redirect the murderous thoughts of a magically conjured entity.’

  ‘Should we be worried?’ asked Motina.

  ‘Perhaps,’ said Fate. ‘It sounds like Bohr’s getting more confident. He’s testing the limits of resistance.’

  ‘And what if that resistance is weak?’ asked the housekeeper.

  Fate did not answer, but his face was grim as his thoughts turned inwards. He was clearly troubled, but the Tutor could see that this was not the time for such a discussion so he drew their attention back to the matter in hand.

  ‘So, how are we going to do this?’ he asked, and Fate seemed relieved by the change of subject.

  ‘We’re going to discover what the hound was using to find us. And then we’re going to purge it from the creature’s mind.’

  ‘And how exactly do we do that?’ asked Motina.

  ‘We’ll start by making sure it can’t break free.’

  ‘We could tie it, if you have some rope,’ said the Tutor, but Fate shook his head.

  ‘The net is strong enough. We just have to secure it to the floor.’ Still holding his edge of the net, he gestured towards a squat cabinet of dark exotic wood. ‘Have a look in there,’ he told Motina. ‘On the bottom shelf you’ll find a series of stone disks.’

  Moving to that cabinet, Motina opened the doors and, sure enough, the bottom shelf held eight silvery stone disks each about two fingers deep and a hand’s width in diameter. And lying on the top of each disk was a thin finger of darker stone, the ends of which had been shaped into points.

  ‘How many do you want?’

  ‘All of them,’ replied Fate.

  ‘How will these help?’ asked the Tutor as Motina began to place the stone disks beside them.

  ‘They’re stone magnets,’ said Fate. ‘We can use them to anchor the net to the floor.’

  Still holding down his edge of the net, the Tutor reached out for one of the stones. He noticed how the slender piece of stone on top of the disk remained in place
like some kind of lodestone. He watched as Fate grabbed a loose edge of the net and tucked it under one of the stones. The sorcerer then rotated the dark finger of stone a full half turn and there was a faint grating sound as the disk was pulled tight against the stone flags of the floor. Fate dipped his head in satisfaction and gave the net a tug to make sure it was securely clamped.

  ‘Work your way around the net,’ he told the Tutor. ‘Just rotate the dipole until you feel the magnetic force engage.’

  The Tutor did as instructed and the net was soon stretched tight over the manitu’s writhing form.

  ‘That should do it,’ said the demon hunter as Motina turned to Fate.

  ‘But how do you purge the mind of a creature like this?’ asked Motina.

  ‘By enduring a great deal of pain,’ said Fate and with that, he removed his long-coat and rolled up the sleeve of his robes. He then crouched down beside the hound which was lying on its side with its head held firmly against the floor. With his left arm braced against the floor, Fate then narrowed the fingers of his right hand and took a deep breath.

  ‘Wait,’ said Motina as Fate met the manitu’s furnace gaze. ‘You’re not going to…’

  The rest of the sentence stuck in her throat as Fate reached through one of the squares in the net and plunged his entire hand into the manitu’s gleaming black chest. The hound gave a shrieking howl and tried to break free, but the magnets along with Motina’s spell of confinement held it fast. Even so, it thrashed and snarled as Fate gritted his teeth against the searing heat that engulfed his hand.

  Even though the net seemed secure the Tutor dropped down to hold it tight. Doing his best to keep the struggling creature still, he glanced across at Fate who was rummaging in the manitu’s chest as if he were feeling for a lost penny in a murky pond.

  ’I can feel… something,’ hissed Fate, adjusting his hand and turning his face away from the heat that was radiating from the manitu’s shining black skin. ‘Got it!’ said Fate and, withdrawing his hand, he held up a few strands of matted black hair.

  Reaching over to the table, Motina passed him one of the rags and Fate’s hand trembled with pain as he wiped away some of the glutinous black tar before laying the hairs on the cloth.

  ‘I think these are yours,’ he told the Tutor. ‘I think this is what Inganno used to mark you as a target.’

  ‘And what about you?’ asked the Tutor.

  ‘He probably used my blood,’ said Fate. ‘If you recall, my hand was bleeding after Inganno threw the glass beaker. He must have used some of the dried blood.’

  ‘But that would just be fragments,’ said Motina. ‘You can’t fish around in that thing for tiny specks of blood.’

  ‘No I can’t,’ said Fate. ‘But I might be able to override my scent with another.’ Reaching over to the table he retrieved the small potion bottle that Motina had brought from his study.

  ‘That was the potion Inganno used to make himself stronger,’ said the Tutor and Fate nodded.

  ‘It was still wet with his saliva when I took it.’

  ‘So you’re going to replace the scent of your blood with his saliva?’

  ‘If I can keep my hand inside for long enough.’

  ‘Rather you than me,’ said the Tutor.

  Even just holding the net his hands felt raw from the heat of the infernal hound. He glanced at Motina and the housekeeper’s face was tight with concern as Fate gripped the potion bottle in his hand. He took a few deep breaths then pushed his fist back into the manitu’s body. Once again, the hound howled and thrashed, its claws scraping on the stone floor as Fate challenged the focus of its summoning.

  The creature’s struggles became so intense that the Tutor began to fear that it might break free, and even Motina got down on her hands and knees to try and hold the net in place. Meanwhile, Fate’s face was contorted with pain as he fought to purge all traces of his blood from the manitu’s mind. Sweat beaded on his face and he bared his teeth as the tar around his wrist began to glow.

  Even constrained as it was, the hound tried to reach Fate with its wicked silvery teeth, and the sorcerer gave a low moan as he struggled to keep his hand in place. The Tutor was just on the verge of reaching for his sword when the wild thrashing suddenly ceased and the fearsome light went out of the manitu’s eyes.

  The creature did not pant with exertion, but its body relaxed and its snarls and growls became less intense as Fate slowly withdrew his hand. He screwed his eyes shut and gritted his teeth against the pain as Motina retrieved the rags and oil from the nearby table.

  Kneeling down in front of him, she gently wiped the hot tar from Fate’s partially broiled skin. The pain was written on his face, but then he gave a sigh of relief as Motina poured over some of the cold, cooling oil. The oil diluted the viscous tar making it easier to wipe off and Motina had positioned the copper bowl to catch the noxious mixture before it hit the floor.

  ‘Is it done?’ asked the Tutor who was still reluctant to relax his hold on the net.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ said Fate. ‘I certainly succeeded in neutralising the substances linked to us, but I’m not sure if the sample on the potion bottle was strong enough to focus the manitu’s mind.’

  ‘So what do we do now?’

  ‘Well, it looks pretty calm,’ said Fate as Motina helped him clean the last of the tar from his arm. ‘So I suggest you remove the stone magnets and set it free.’

  It was clear from his expression that the Tutor doubted the wisdom of this move. However, the hound was no longer struggling to break free and the ferocious light had faded from its eyes.

  ‘I guess there’s only one way to find out,’ he said. ‘But if I hear so much as a snarl, I’m going to kill it!’ He hesitated a moment longer then, shaking his head, he knelt beside the first of the stone magnets.

  Fate and Motina watched as the Tutor began to remove the magnets. One by one, he deactivated the stone disks and slid them aside. The tension on the net was now gone, but still the manitu made no attempt to escape. Still not completely convinced, the Tutor took a loose edge of the net and began to lift it clear of the hound’s black body.

  Sitting in the nearby chair, Fate’s dark eyes glittered with interest. Slowly, the Tutor pulled the net back, but then he tensed and reached for his sword as the manitu suddenly straightened up from its prone position.

  ‘It’s all right!’ said Fate and sure enough, the hound merely righted itself before slowly coming to its feet.

  The net was now bundled up on the floor and for a moment the summoned creature looked at it as if the knotted cord stirred some memory in its primaeval mind. It raised its head to look at the Tutor who stood with his hand on the hilt of his Hadean blade. The heart-stone in the sword’s pommel glowed with a clear light and, if the manitu made one threatening move, then the demon hunter would cleave the creature in two. But the hound just stood there, turning its head and raising its muzzle as if it were scenting the air. For a moment it turned to look at Fate and the light in its eyes gave the smallest of flares, but then the brightness faded and the manitu turned towards the steps leading up from the basement room.

  ‘Don’t try to stop it,’ said Fate, and the Tutor moved aside as the hound started forward.

  With liquid grace it ascended the steps.

  ‘Open the front door,’ said Fate as they followed the creature into the dark hallway of the house.

  Moving ahead of the manitu, the Tutor opened the front door almost as if he were letting a pet dog out into the garden. The light in the hound’s eyes remained intimidating, but there was no recognition in its gaze. It merely looked at the demon hunter with indifference before turning away and heading out through the main door of the house. It descended the steps, walked down the gravel driveway and slipped through the bars in the perimeter fence.

  For a moment it stood, turning its head in the darkness, then it loped away into the night.

  ‘Do you think it will find him?’ asked the Tutor.

 
; ‘I don’t know,’ said Fate.

  ‘And what if it doesn’t?’

  ‘It won’t harm anyone,’ said Fate. ‘It will simply wander aimlessly until the magic of its conjuring is no longer strong enough to hold its form, at which point it will collapse into its constituent parts.’

  ‘It’ll become a puddle of tar.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘So what now?’ asked the Tutor and Fate looked up at the sky.

  ‘Well, it’s too late to call on Medici now,’ replied Fate. ‘We should get some sleep and visit Medici first thing in the morning.’

  ‘Sleep,’ said Motina from the steps of the house. ‘That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said in days. Now come inside and let me treat your scalded arm and the cuts on the Tutor’s shoulder.’

  ‘Those cuts are healed,’ said the Tutor.

  ‘Are they indeed?’ said Motina. ‘And how exactly did you manage that?’

  Fate smiled at the indignation in her voice.

  ‘Come inside,’ he said as he climbed the shallow steps and put a hand on his housekeeper’s shoulder. ‘We’ll tell you the story of a man called Samuel Culpepper, and how he came to be known as the Butcher of Guile.’

  ‘But what about Weasel?’ exclaimed Motina. ‘You still haven’t told me what’s happened to Weasel!’

  ‘Ah, but it was Weasel who found the Butcher,’ said Fate.

  ‘Found him where?’ asked Motina.

  ‘In the sewers and tunnels beneath our very feet,’ said Fate and then their voices faded as the front door of Blackfell House was closed.

  26

  Stay Strong

  In the port city of Dymhaven, Sienna Blade opened the doors of a disused coach house as a bell chimed midnight. The coach house lay just across the street from the keep in which Isaac was being held.

  ‘Be careful,’ said Amos as Sienna emerged from the double doors.

  Sienna gave Amos a nod and checked that the coast was clear before she approached the dark wall of the keep. Along the base of the wall were a series of barred windows leading to the cells that sat just below street level. Keeping an eye out for the guards, Sienna bent down to the first window and whispered through the bars.