Chapter Eighteen
The Mals walked over and formed a circle around the two chairs, all straining their necks to catch a glimpse of the two blood red birthmarks that lay over her heart.
“Well, the mystery is solved, yet still it deepens!” Said Maelwyn somewhat cryptically.
“Now what in the name of the seven hells is that meant to mean?” Asked Amren. He was finding all the talk of great events involving the tribes unsettling. He was in no mood for mystical double talk.
Geshla stepped towards the High king, his hands dropping to his throwing axes hanging from his baldric. “Be careful how you speak to the holy one. Show him the respect he is due.”
Maelwyn intervened just as a bristling Amren was about to square up to the windborne.
“Geshla! Amren! Remember yourselves. We are all worried about the situation, but harsh words will help no one. Now, calm yourselves, for if you upset the baby or her parents it will go badly for the both of you.” The steel edge to his normally gentle voice ended the developing confrontation immediately. “If you listen for a moment, my king, I will explain my comment. I can identify the runes, but as with all workings of the gods, the answers raise yet more questions. Dylan has told me that one of the fetishes is that of the cleric and the other is unknown to him, yet it is the unknown fetish that is easiest to explain.” He pointed to one of the slightly raised birthmarks. “This is called the ankh fetish, the fetish of life and the antithesis of death magic. It is one of the rarest forms. So rare, in fact, that I have never encountered it marked at birth and only once as a learned rune. The woman who used it was a healer of great accomplishment even to the extent that she could raise the dead. Rare though it is, the Ankh mark does not cause me undue concern, although by itself it would mark out Albany for a great future. This other, though, is a horse of a different colour. Never has a child of the Six-tribes been marked with a cleric rune other than that of Ostarna, yet here is one that is just so.”
“How do you know that it’s not from the goddess?” Asked Callun. “It looks the same as Dylan’s. I asked him to show me his mark so that I could compare, and it was identical.”
“In form, yes they are identical.” Maelwyn conceded. “Yet within the form lies the nature of the god or goddess to whom the rune is consecrated. Those of us here who are fetished know something of the attunement necessary to access runic powers. To those of you who are not, it is something akin to practicing with your weapons in order to understand their use better, although that is not a perfect analogy. However, this attunement allows us to gain something of the nature of the fetishes of the other gods. In Dylan’s case it told him who it was not – it was not the goddess. I, on the other hand, have lived much longer than he and I have seen this form of the cleric fetish before. It is the fetish of the Sun god, Nepherten.”
“Correct me if I am wrong, Maelwyn.” Said Amren. “Theology was never my strong point, but isn’t Nepherten the father of Ostarna?”
“He is, and he is a most honourable god. He is the nominal head of the pantheon of order.” Maelwyn informed them. “That it is he that claims the child fills me with wonder, but also a deep sense of dread. I feel that great events are about to happen to our people, great events…”
“That is what Cerevin says as well.” Said Dougal, speaking up almost shyly.
Maelwyn looked at him in amazement. “Cerevin has spoken to you of this?”
“Some, although he speaks to my brother more. They seem to be becoming good friends.”
“Then tell me everything that the Doomsayer has said to you, or that your brother has told you of their conversations. Make sure that you leave nothing out, for even the smallest detail may be the key to the whole puzzle. But first, I think that I can see an anxious mother wanting her child back.” The old man carefully replaced Albany’s blanket and handed her to Bronty. When he had again settled back in his chair, Dougal began to tell the druid all the conversations he had had with the mysterious Doomsayer, and then all that Gryffin had told him as well. His methodical narrative lasted about an hour and when it became clear that Maelwyn was about to start a cross examination, Bronty got to her feet.
“I think that it is time for me to retire. My presence is no longer required here, and I think that my baby needs changing. So, if you will excuse me, I will leave you to your discussions. Oh, and Callun, try not to let my husband drink too much and make a complete fool of himself.”
Everyone except Dougal burst out laughing.
“I don’t think that there was any need for that.” He said in a hurt voice.
“Well then, just behave.” She said as a final admonishment. Then she began to leave the room.
Before she could reach the door, Geshla was there ahead of her, his movements touched with a fluid grace that bellied his massive bulk. “I feel my presence is also superfluous. I am a warrior, not a debater nor policy maker. I will do as the goddess demands. With your permission, I will escort Bronty and Albany back to her room.”
“You have my permission to do so.” Said Maelwyn.
“And my thanks.” Added Dougal with a friendly smile. “Although, I must admit that I would be worried if it were not for the fact that the windborne are celibate.”
Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.
Bronty clasped the tall warrior’s arm as they walked out into the hallway. She called back over her shoulder as she did so. “Who says that they are celibate?”
“It’s a commonly known fact, isn’t it?” He asked the room at large, then more pointedly at Maelwyn. “Well, isn’t it?”
With exaggerated sadness, the old man shook his head. “I’m afraid not. Although most are, it is their choice. It is not the law to be so.”
The room exploded once again into laughter at Dougal’s expense.
It was close to midnight before the meeting finally drew to a close. Geshla appeared just before the end to see if Maelwyn required anything of him before he retired for the night. When it turned out that the druid needed nothing from him, the windborne announced to the room that he intended to check on all the night patrols before he turned in and that, if anyone cared to accompany him, they would be more than welcome. Almost all the room expressed their desire to go and walk in the night air with him.
“Coming, Dougal?” Asked Callun.
“No, I don’t think so. I have no wish to witness the discomfort of the guards when you all descend on them. I’m going to call in on Bronty but will meet you at the tavern later for a nightcap.”
In spite of the drink he shared with Dougal, in spite of the several, in fact, Callun was awake before the sun rose to see to the organisation of patrols for the coming day The six kings had given their retinues over to the defence of the village and so, for the first time in days, village life returned to normal as most of Callun’s warband were rested or released back to their farms and homes with the king’s men taking over their duties. The village Eron quickly and efficiently gave out orders to the men who were probably much more used to giving commands that receiving them. They seemed to take their demotion with good grace and Callun couldn’t help but wonder if the tribal Mals had had a word in their ears to smooth over any potential ruffled feathers. Maybe the chance of confronting a band of Dokkaebi was all that had been necessary. Whatever the reason, within minutes of his arrival, Callun had succeeded in dividing the milling horsemen into groups and dispatched them to their given areas of patrol. As he watched the riders sweep out of the village, the Eron tried to decide whether to call at the inn to have some breakfast with Dougal and Gryffin or to return to the hall and start organising for the first day of the High- king’s council. It would be nice, he thought, to spend a pleasant hour with his friends before beginning the host of tasks which would occupy his time for the next few days. As he made his way to the inn, the tall figure of Geshla made an appearance walking in his direction.
“Good morning, Callun. With your permission, I would like to take half of the windborne into the forest to help in the search for the Dokkaebi. Dylan has said that there is a smaller band of my brothers already there. Maybe with the extra help we will be able to find something. Whether we do or not, I will leave the extra warriors in the wood and will be back in the village come sundown. I will leave the other half of the windborne at the stone circle. Should you have need of them, Dylan will be able to summon them.”
“As you wish, Geshla.” Said the Eron. “Although why a man who snubs kings would seek the permission of a lowly village chieftain, I do not know.”
“I ask your permission because it is the right thing to do. You are, after all, our host. I am not an arrogant man, whatever you may think. Arrogance is not a trait that gains the favour of the goddess. I act as I do for very specific reasons. I think that Kings need their egos pricked every now and again. They need to be reminded that temporal power, however great, is secondary to the goddess. What some see as disrespect is intended to remind them that they are only human, as are we all.” He turned to go.
“One last thing, Geshla.” Said Callun. Geshla turned back to face him. “What was the reason behind the scene with Dylan?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.” Said the windborne, a bland expression on his face. “Dylan is a druid of the goddess. What other reason could there be?”
Callun raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “That is precisely the question I am asking you.”
Geshla smiled in defeat as he realised that he wasn’t going to be allowed to get away without giving Callun some form of explanation. “Maelwyn warned me that you had a keen mind. You are correct in thinking that there was more to it than met the eye. Maelwyn had heard that Dylan, because of his disability, was having a few problems with the more opinionated of the villagers. I do not think that they will voice any complaints now, and if they do, then I will take it personally, very personally indeed. He is a druid chosen by the goddess.”
“So, am I correct in thinking that I have an informant in my village? I can’t see it being Dylan who reported his problems to the Arch-druid, so there must have been someone else.” Callun was getting angry at the thought of there being an informant in the village who passed on information about the happenings here to the higher powers. It was almost if somebody thought him incapable of managing his own affairs.
The Warrior laughed at the Eron’s darkening expression, guessing the reason. “Calm down, Callun. For even though it is true that you do have a spy in your village, it is not one that you can do anything about. It was the goddess herself that told Maelwyn of Dylan’s problems.”
The Eron’s jaw dropped in shocked disbelief. “Does she take such a keen interest in all her druids?”
“She does indeed. And not just her druids, but all her children. Would so many be willing to serve her if she was not so dutiful a mother?”
Callun tried to supress a shiver. “I find it quite unsettling to discover myself the object of such scrutiny.”
“Guilty conscience?” Asked Geshla gayly.
“No, not at the moment.” Said Callun after a few seconds thought. “But it certainly puts me off acquiring one.”
“Doesn’t it just.” Agreed the naked warrior. “Luckily for us, Ostarna is like most mothers and her love for her children encompasses great compassion and forgiveness. I doubt very much whether you are capable of an act of such horror that would cause her to withdraw her love for you.”
“It is not so much that. It is just that there are certain situations that I would rather not be observed in, if you follow my meaning.”
Geshla grinned as he understood what Callun was alluding to. “Now you see why so many of my brothers are celibate. But do not let it concern you too much. I am sure that the goddess is very discrete. And with that thought, I am going to leave you.”
It suddenly occurred to Callun that Geshla was leaving the village for the day. Finally understanding the implications of this he said, “Are you not coming to the council? I took it for granted that you would be.”
“To what end?” He replied. “I am a simple warrior. It is the role of others to decide my battlefield. I think that I have the easier of the two paths. After all, I only have my own fate to ponder, and I rarely worry about that. They, on the other hand, have all the people of the Six-tribes to guide. It is not something I envy.”
With that, he turned and went in search of his fellow warriors, leaving Callun with the distinct impression that, whatever he may claim to be, Geshla could never be described as a simple warrior.
