by Troy A Hill
I ran. Soul was in my hand as I closed the gap. My foot crossed the glyph that should have kept the undead trapped inside the catacombs and me outside. It and the lycanthrope glyph were blackened like the one at Nant Bywyd, just as I had feared and expected. I passed it with ease. It had to be that damn wizard again. What else could scorch the glyphs, and harm Gwen?
I slowed. I didn’t know the layout of the caves, and I wasn’t sure where the hooded figure had gone with Enid. Dust and cobwebs lay undisturbed on the remains of the dead in the niches. The smell of wet stone hung stale in the air. The odour of old death was here.
Twenty feet in, the narrow path curved to the right as it drifted down. Dim yellow light flickered ahead. I sensed only two people in the area. Soul’s bare blade glowing with The Lady’s power, I made my way around the bend.
Burial nooks lined the uneven walls of a large chamber. A small oil lamp flickered on a ledge. A single stone pillar, carved with Celtic sigils, stood in the centre of the chamber, floor to carved roof above. With its light, I spied the hooded figure facing me, holding Enid’s slumped form erect with a blade pressed to her throat. The face between the folds of the hood was one I hadn’t expected to find.
Pedr, Mechain’s first sword. He was supposed to be in Nant Bywyd. What in the hells? Was he the mysterious wizard? Somehow I just couldn’t see that. He never impressed me. But still, why was he here? And why was he dragging Enid into the catacombs?
I had found our turncoat at last. Just as in my vision of The Lady’s gwyddbwyll board, he had sneaked up behind me to attack. And I had never seen him coming.
With Soul in a two-handed grip, I began to circle slowly, seeking an opening to release Enid. “Let her go, Pedr.”
“So you can kill me, witch?” he said. He rotated with me so he kept the unconscious girl’s body between my blade and his flesh. As the central pillar obscured me, slide a pace closer.
“You might live if you cooperate now,” I said and resisted the urge to snarl. I needed to get him to relax the hand that held the knife at her throat. If I attacked, even with my speed, he’d have time to wound her, possibly kill her. He shook his head. I stepped forward again. I hoped to close of distance. The nearer I was, the less time he’d have to react.
“Who is your master, Pedr?” I tried another step, sideways and closer. His back thudded against the wall, sending down a river of fine dust over his shoulders. He couldn’t retreat any more.
“Stop, or I’ll cut her,” he said.
“And you’ll lose your hostage, and I will take you, traitor.” I raised Soul in line with his eyes. “Who controls you, Pedr?”
I felt metal snap around my neck. Oh, crap!
My body went slack.
My connection to The Lady disappeared.
Soul’s light winked out, and my sword arm slumped to my side.
What the Hells? What had happened to me?
There were people here. And something else; something like an animal, yet not. My ability to sense magical presences had vanished. But I could smell them. I knew the shapeshifter was here—behind me where I could not see him.
I couldn’t react. My body would not obey my mind. I had walked into a trap.
“Well done, Bjørulf,” a voice hissed behind me. The speaker clapped a little round of applause that echoed hollowly in the chamber. Deodamitus! I knew that voice. Then robes swished against the dust and a staff tapped the ground as the man drew closer to me. “I am the shifter’s master, Maria,” he said behind my shoulder. “Now I am also your master.”
I wanted to swear, but my mouth was no longer mine. My voice stayed silent while I screamed curses in my mind. I tried to whirl around and face our enemy, but my body stood like a dead stump, I was helpless. I couldn’t even turn my head to catch a glimpse of my worst fear realised.
The tapping edged around me until the man stood fully in front of me. The face of the black-robed figure was hidden in a deep cowl. He carried a black staff, topped with that sigil I hated, two iron nails twisted into a cross wreathed with silver brambles. The symbol of the Witch Hunter’s guild.
Aged, wrinkled hands reached up to the hem of the cowl. Slowly, they pulled it back, revealing a long, thin face, worn with years. A face I had not expected. But I knew it was coming. My stomach plunged to my feet, or so it seemed.
Lecerf the Witch Hunter.
The aged guilder grinned. “Ah, you are surprised? I’m so sorry. I should have sent a letter announcing my intention to visit. You see, I’ve been wanting to give you that neck ring for a long while.” He dipped the staff forward and tapped the metal band around my throat.
Behind him, Seeker Bechard stepped out of … nowhere. Just a ripple in the air. Like the Fadog fighter than ran our guard through. Some sort of invisible cloak. A magical veil.
“Your connection to the false goddess made it hard to use my spells,” the wizard said.
Bechard’s mouth curled into an evil grin. “Disciple Lecerf had to modify the torc we had ready for you, because of your new powers from this false goddess.”
Lecerf drew near me. “You misled us,” he breathed in my ear. “I didn’t realise who, what you were.”
He was way too close for my comfort. I wanted to run. I longed to scream. But his voice influenced me strangely. It should have sent shivers down my spine, and caused me to tremble, but my body waited. It listened to every word he said even though I wanted to ignore him. Only my eyes could move freely. The one little bit of control I retained.
I tried to sweep my thoughts out, to reach out to Seren with my connection to our Goddess.
But that was locked away from me, too.
Magic in the torc blocked my connection with The Lady. From Seren. From Gwen, if she were even still alive. Damn that wizard!
“Your thoughts are your own,” his slimy voice slithered into my ears as he walked around me. “The rest of you I control. You will serve me well.”
He ran a finger along my jaw and turned my head towards him.
“Maria of Rome,” he almost whispered my name. Joy lurked behind his old eyes and edged his voice. “I’ve wanted to find you for over three centuries. Ever since you freed Lucius and decimated half of my new guild.”
Holy Crap! How old was this… this wizard? Three centuries?
“Yes. I can see the cloud behind your gaze. I can imagine what your thoughts are. Oh, I’ve known of the undead. I have a way with them. To control them… to control you.” He pushed my chin over to look at where Bechard and Pedr were wrapping cords around Enid’s hands and feet.
“Hiding in plain sight,” he laughed. “Bechard has no talent for the undead. But he is an excellent showman and dedicated to our cause. He makes a much better mouthpiece for our cause than an old fool with a staff.” He wheezed out a chuckle again.
I wanted to gag. His breath smelled like a mouldy grave. But I couldn’t. I had no control over my body.
“Ah… now you’re piecing it together,” he said.
I hadn’t, but he could tell me. I mean, there was nothing else I could do right then. I might as well listen to the old fool. I really wanted to have that very pointed conversation with him. But my sword arm stayed limp. I couldn’t have the satisfaction of sliding it into his chest.
“The guild is mine. I made it. I grew it. And with it, I will take control of this island. I already control Canterbury. But these Cymry bishops… they bow not to Rome. So, we will create a crisis where their church must beg for our help.”
He smiled and leaned on his staff. His fingers caressed it, much like a child with a new toy. Rubbing it in adoration.
Shouts rang out from the cave entrance. Sawyl’s voice calling. “Lady Mair? Lady Enid?”
Lecerf pointed to a corpse in the wall. Pedr touched the skull and a wave of darkness grew up from it, like a black cloud. Another shout from Sawyl, even closer, distracted Pedr. He jerked his head towards the cave mouth, and as he did so, the dark cloud over the skull collapsed.
&nb
sp; The old wizard, Disciple Lecerf or whatever he was, shoved Pedr out of the way. “Fool,” he snarled. “A sleep spell on the girl seems to be the limit of your talents.” He placed his own aged hand on the skull.
A black slit opened in the air, similar to the rift Gwen and Seren used for tree walking. Lecerf motioned Bechard and the others to enter. I finally caught a glance of the lycanthrope, Bjørulf . He tossed Enid’s limp form over his shoulder. He shifted his eyes to me, and ran his tongue along his upper lip. I saw the fangs in his mouth elongate as he chuckled. He turned and stepped into the rift. Bechard entered behind him. Pedr paused. His eyes darted between the old wizard and my body.
“She cannot harm you, acolyte Pedr,” Lecerf hissed. “I control her now. Watch. Maria, step into the portal.”
I tried to lock my muscles, but my legs jerked me forward. I didn’t want to go, and tried to stop moving. My steps jerked. But I moved forward against my will.
Lecerf laughed. Two more steps and I would enter the portal that crackled in the air before me. No one in Penllyn would know I had been here.
I couldn’t move my muscles without a command. Relax, however, I could. I hadn’t been ordered to do anything with my hands. I relaxed my sword hand just before my body entered the slit between the worlds. Soul clattered onto the rock floor.
“Leave it,” Lecerf hissed again from behind me. “She fed her power into the blade. It is not the sword we seek.”
Pedr stepped in and bumped into me. My undead body followed orders literally. Lecerf had said to step into the rift. Once there, my body had no other order, so it waited. The old wizard chuckled. Behind me, Sawyl’s voice faded. The rift closed behind us. It cut me off from my home. My family.
34
I'm Sorry
We walked through a dark void, similar to the mists of The Lady, yet vastly different. The way wasn’t illuminated with twilight, as it was along the edge of the Lady’s part of the Otherworld. Lecerf’s passage was dark, with dim tendrils of inky mists that rose around us. No, not mists. Souls. Each patch of cloudiness had a human form from time to time. Eyes formed to watch us pass. Mouths took shape, and moved, but no words came forth.
My body obeyed Lecerf’s command to follow him. I couldn’t turn my head, but my eyes roamed freely. We walked towards a dim glow in the distance. Not the inviting warmth of a portal like Gwen used to lead us into and out of The Lady’s section of the underworld. The glow that lay ahead was black, yet not. Sickly grey-green. The colour of the dead as they decomposed. When we reached it, I saw it was the outline of a corpse. Lecerf raised his hand and a shadowy slit opened.
“Someday you need to teach me how to do that,” Bechard said as he motioned Pedr through the slit.
“You must first abandon your pursuit of the magic of misdirection and embrace the magic of death, young fool.” Lecerf scowled at Bechard, and stood next to the slit to wave him out.
I was learning to despise this wizard and his slimy voice.
“My deceptions have served you well, Disciple Lecerf,” Bechard said, then stepped through the slit.
I’d had their relationship reversed all this time. Until now, I thought a Seeker was bad news. Now I had to deal with whatever a Disciple in the guild was. Bechard’s shoulders slumped as he took the chastisement. But he shot a look of disdain over his shoulder once he was out of the undead landscape.
“Maria,” Lecerf’s words hissed at me. He hadn’t noticed the look of contempt from his underling. “Step through the portal and move a few paces away. Wait there for my next command.”
My legs walked without my control again. The room my body stepped into was another dark cavern. Small nooks and niches were carved into the wall. This was another set of catacombs. A few oil lamps shed their tiny glow about the large chamber. Plates and mugs stood on a rustic table near a few stools, testament to the frequent presence of the living amongst the dead. The underground room was perhaps twenty feet high and the same across. I couldn’t tell its length as my head was pointed at the wall along the side.
The shifter came in behind me. He dumped Enid’s still form on the floor at my feet. Crap! I wanted to shout “She’s with child, Idiot! Treat her with care!” But my mouth wouldn’t move.
Pedr drifted about and lit more lamps.
“Maria, bring the girl and follow me.”
That meant my head had to turn towards Enid. I tried to will my arms to be gentle as they slid under her shoulders and legs. I was able to direct my motions within the commands, but my body was forced to follow the Witch Hunter’s words. Her chest rose and fell, and I could hear the pulse of her heart as I neared. But, without my connection to the goddess, I had no idea about the condition of the babies in her womb. My arms picked her up, and my body followed Lecerf.
My head now faced one of the long ends of the cavern. More burial niches lined the walls. Lecerf walked ahead of me for about fifty paces. The stone floor sloped down, and the passage narrowed. I was able turn my body to avoid bumping Enid against the jagged walls. I was relieved to know the commands gave me some leeway, though not much.
He entered a side chamber, also full of burial niches. The bodies had long since decayed and dust caked the skeletons. Another figure sat in the darkness just past my vision, a man who slumped in the shadows. A chain clinked in the darkness as he shifted. A prisoner? So I was not the only one. But who or what was this? Was he alive or dead? And was his body controlled by the wizard as mine was? Clearly not. He had stirred on his own.
The old wizard lifted his lamp past an empty burial niche carved into the wall. A large spider pulled back from the light. Lecerf pointed to a set of manacles chained to a large ring set into the wall.
“Lay her there and attach the irons to her ankles.” His voice echoed off the walls. Each bounce added to the eerie quality of his high-pitched hissing. Again, I tried to be as gentle as I was able. My arms set Enid on the hard stone of the floor. My hands had to put the iron manacles on her. I couldn’t stop that, but was slow and careful as I did so. The locks clicked shut around her legs.
Enid was now a prisoner, just as I. There was so much I wanted to explain to her. So much about me she might learn the hard way. I had no idea what this Witch Hun… wizard had planned for us. And I was helpless. I couldn’t aid my new family. I couldn’t help Enid. Even telling her about my nature was now beyond me.
The wizard stepped towards the person who sat in the shadows and fidgeted with a key. The chains clinked and a lock sprang open.
“Bring him, Pedr,” Lecerf breathed. “He will do for this test. Maria, follow me.”
Pedr reached into the shadows and pulled the man upright. A familiar, youthful face looked at me in the pale light of the oil lamp. He muttered one phase before he lowered his eyes.
“I’m sorry…”
My mind flashed back to the horrible time I had suffered at Onion Breath’s hands, tied with silver ropes, unable to free myself. One young Witch Hunter had shown true character. That young man had slid me his knife. He had last said those words, I’m sorry, as he pointed a crossbow at me—unloaded, though he hadn’t known it.
Of all the people that might have been in this place with Enid and me, it was Onion Breath’s apprentice, a young man I had never expected to see again. And he was just as much a prisoner of Lecerf as Enid and I.
I’m sorry too, I thought. But my voice refused to work. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t answer him. My throat was locked. I needed an order to even speak. My body followed the Witch Hunter out into the large cavern again. The apprentice’s leg chain clanked as Pedr marched him behind us.
Lecerf led us towards a burial niche. Inside was a skeleton of a warrior, the bones of its arms crossed over its chest. Probably a noble of some sort, interred with his sword. Dead for a century or two. The dust covered white finger bones laid across the pommel of its sword.
“Maria, lay your hand on the skull.”
My hand stopped palm-down on the exposed bone where the empt
y eye sockets stared upward.
Lecerf’s hand came into view as he muttered words I didn’t understand. He pinched some dust from the skeleton and sprinkled it across my hand. My hand glowed with a sickly green light. The glow spread to the bones under my hand and diffused across the entire body. What it meant, I had no idea, but I didn’t like it.
“Maria, step back.”
I did so. My hand relaxed to my side.
“Tell it to rise and guard that passage.” Lecerf pointed to another cleft in the rock wall.
“Rise,” my voice said. I tried to clamp my jaws shut, but it was useless. “Guard that passage,” I commanded through clenched teeth. My arm pointed to where Lecerf had indicated.
The skeleton moved. Centuries of dust fell from its bones and swirled as the figure rolled out of its nook and stood, sword in hand. Ancient leather and metal chest armour hung askew, only one brittle leather strap holding it together. The skeletal warrior took several steps and stopped in front of the passageway.
Lecerf turned towards the apprentice. “You, go down that hallway.”
He pointed towards the passage I had just instructed the skeleton to guard, but the young man didn’t move. Mechain’s traitorous First Sword pushed the young man towards the undead warrior. The apprentice backed away each time Pedr pushed him forward, the manacles still around his ankles clattering and tripping him up.
“He fears the dead,” Lecerf said. “Give him a blade.” He reached into his robes and pulled out the metal key he had just used to unlock the young man from the ring set into the prison wall. He tossed the key past the skeleton where it clattered into the darkness.
“That passage leads to the abbey,” Lecerf hissed again. I found his nasally voice irritating. I was sure he’d be delighted to know, so I decided not to tell him if he ever unlocked my mouth.
“Go get the key, and you may free yourself of those chains. The way out is before you.”
The apprentice glanced between the wizard and the skeleton and shook his head, even as Pedr pressed an old, rusted sword into his hand. Lecerf pointed towards the shifter.