Authors: Chris Page
Tags: #Sorcery, #Magic, #Fantasy, #Spell, #Rune, #Pagan, #Alchemist, #Merlin, #Magus, #Ghost, #Twilight, #King, #Knight, #Excalibur, #Viking, #Celtic, #Stonehenge, #Wessex
The Viking were beginning to learn from Lyme Regis and other small raids. Uncoordinated attacks with little or no long-term plan didn’t provide much, other than a chance to pillage and rape before being driven out by superior forces or returning home voluntarily with very limited booty. Whilst that may have briefly satisfied some of the younger warriors’ bloodlust, it did little or nothing for the greater spread of their civilization beyond the boundaries of their cold and inhospitable lands. What they did know about Britain was that it was very well adapted for raising beasts and had a climate far more favourable than their own for growing grain and other edible plants.
They had a number of old parchment Roman maps of Britain, captured on other raids, that included some quite good details of Wessex and the straight roads that had been built across the region for Roman marching legions. These old maps also showed that the three inland cities chosen were in the central heartlands of their targeted region with indications that each town had a castle where the enemy was likely to have its soldiers. Although a seafaring race, the Viking were also expert at converting their prowess as fighters to land battles. Having quickly overcome resistance to their sea raid, they would jump on local horseback and raise further havoc inland before returning to their long ships. That would have probably been the case had Twilight not intervened in the first Lyme Regis raid.
This time Guthrum did have a long-term strategy. Once Wessex was in their hands and consolidated as Viking territory, they would bring over families from their Northern territories to colonize this beguilingly green and fertile land. Then they would look further north in Britain at East Anglia, Mercia, and Northumbria and even further, perhaps, to Ireland.
But first, it was a three-pronged attack on Wessex.
Scores needed settling.
Desmond Kingdom Biwater sat cross-legged on the grass-covered floor just inside the willow gates of the compound and played a Celtic melody on his old wooden whistle. The gentle, haunting notes rose in the still air, then seemed to settle on the surrounding countryside, bringing a swaying acceptance of their rhythm to the plants and trees. Sir Valiant, familiar with the tune, moved his head slowly from side to side as Lord Scroop scrabbled, as usual, for purchase between his ears. As the thin notes finally ended, their echo played on the breeze for a few precious moments more before disappearing forever.
‘You have a wonderful, natural ability with music and your instruments,’ said Twilight. ‘It is a great skill and one that will always serve you well.’
‘Yes, but it’s music, not magic. That’s what I call a real skill, being able to completely change something into something else that’s completely different,’ said the young man glumly.
‘Celts are an artistic people. They respect those who can further their understanding of the pure devotions of nature. Their gods are in the landscape, the plants, trees, and hills, and the planets, the sun, stars, and moon. Music is akin to those beliefs. A music-maker of your skill will always receive more veneration than a mere shape-shifter like me. Music is folk culture, elegiac poetry to the Celtic soul. It chimes, whispers, and soothes perfectly with their circular cruciform designs and inner voices. ‘
‘Well, I know which I would rather be.’ Desmond smiled. ‘But since it is not possible, there is nothing to be done about it.’
Combi and Nation emerged from the small willow shelter Desmond had built them in the corner of the compound. Following closely behind were two small, dark furry bundles with bright black eyes.
‘Have you thought of names for the newborn yet?’
‘I rather like Billy for the male and Milly for the female,’ said Desmond. ‘What do you think?’
‘Billy and Milly,’ mused Twilight. ‘Good, I like it. It’s a pity Eleanor and Harlo can’t be here. They would play with them all day long.’
‘Have you heard from them, from Rawnie?’
‘We are in constant communication. They are all well, as are Guinevere and my brothers and sisters.’
‘Constant communication, eh?’ Desmond chuckled. ‘More magic, I suppose.’
Twilight looked at him.
This is what I mean. An ability to converse directly with another without speaking.
Desmond jumped as Twilight’s voice spoke the words directly into his mind.
‘Huh . . . ‘
It is very useful when there are others nearby whom you do not wish to hear your spoken words. It is also useful to communicate over great distances with loved ones, although Rawnie is near my limit, being at least three days’ ride away.
‘That,’ said an astonished Desmond, shaking his head, ‘isn’t magic, it’s miracle-making. Your voice came as if spoken in a dream.’
‘Come,’ said Twilight. ‘Hold my hand tightly. We’re going to have a look at the Wessex coastline to see if those Viking long ships have appeared.’
Mouth agog with excitement, Desmond gripped the proffered hand.
‘You mean we’re going to fly . . . like the pica?’ He gasped.
The miracle-maker smiled.
‘Like a shooting star, my friend, like time itself.’
‘There!’ said Twilight, pointing to the far horizon as they drifted gently in the clouds above the coastline a few minutes later.
Clinging fearfully to Twilight’s hand and hardly daring to turn his head for fear that he would drop out of the sky like a stone, Desmond risked a glance in the seaborne direction the spellbinder was pointing. Sure enough he could make out the hazy outline of long ships.
‘Let’s have a closer look. This will do.’ In an instant they halted almost directly above the lead ship.
With their oars threshing against the beat of the striking drum, which could be heard clearly even at their cloud base height, the colourful dragon prows breasted each wave and plunged onward.
‘Hmm,’ murmured Twilight, ‘now that is interesting.’
‘What is?’
‘I’ll explain when we get back to land. There are two other fleets of them over there, and there.’ He pointed again to two different spots on the horizon.
Two small, blond-haired figures hurried out from under the shelter offered by the platform on the lead ship and moved quickly to stand on the platform itself. Suddenly they both looked up and pointed to the exact spot where Twilight and Desmond hovered in the sparse clouds.
Twilight nodded at them both.
‘And as for you, my little beauties,
praeparet bellum, gemini
, prepare for war, twins. Come, Desmond, it’s time to go.’
The third set of two had just appeared, and Twilight knew that
Merlin’s prophesy was about to come true.
My companion and I would like to discuss matters Viking with you immediately.
King Alfred started as the voice of the veneficus leapt into his mind.
‘Of course . . . of course,’ he said aloud. His five companions looked at him oddly. No one had said anything to him warranting an answer. The pressure of sovereignty must be getting to their still young king. They were sitting around a sturdy table in the castle at Winchester, the remains of an evening meal still apparent.
Kindly prepare your guards and companions for our arrival.
The king cleared his throat and motioned to the two fully armoured guards with short swords in their scabbards and lances upright in their hands standing either side of the door.
‘Don’t be alarmed. We are about to receive a visit from the Wessex veneficus and his companion. Keep your swords sheathed and your lances still.’
He turned to his companions, who by now were beginning to really question the mental state of their beloved Alfred.
‘They have news of the Viking,’ said the king by way of an explanation.
Then Twilight and Desmond were standing by his chair.
Although forewarned, each of the guards still gave an involuntary
dart toward their sheathed swords.
‘Leave us,’ Alfred quickly barked a command at the guards. ‘We will be fine.’
As they left, Alfred turned to his companions, who all still had their mouths open in surprise at the sudden appearance of Twilight and Desmond.
‘This is Twilight, the Wessex veneficus, and . . .?’
‘Desmond Kingdom Biwater,’ said the young companion firmly, determined not to be put down by the obviously exalted company he was in. After all, he had just flown the length and breadth of Wessex and then to here in the blink of an eye. When had any of
them
flown
anywhere
?
‘Allow me to introduce everyone,’ said Alfred. ‘On my right here is my beloved wife, Elswith, and next her companion Hild.’
The two ladies inclined their heads in acknowledgment, still unable to keep the incredulity from their faces.
‘At the end of the table is Septimus Godleman, my religious advisor.’ The hooded eyes of the priest blinked, but the rest of the fleshy face remained immovable. Bare-headed, showing long, curly silver locks, he wore a silk vestment with wide open sleeves at the wrist. Everything about Godleman’s manner proclaimed extreme dislike of the visitors.
‘On my left here is Hugh Easton, the High Reeve of Winchester, and next to him my battle leader, Edward de Gaini.’
Easton and de Gaini, who by now had regained their composure,
both executed a suitable but neutral nod. ‘You have news of the Viking?’ Alfred asked. Twilight moved around the table, speaking as he went. ‘My lord, they are approaching the shores of Wessex rapidly and have broken into three groups, each of thirty long ships. With one hundred warriors per ship, that’s three thousand to each group.’
‘Do you know where each group is likely to make landfall?’ ‘My estimate is the southernmost group is again heading for Lyme Bay, the central group Bournemouth, and the last group Bognor Regis.’
The group was silent as they absorbed this. ‘There is an obvious plan in those landfalls,’ said Edward de Gaini eventually. ‘Each puts them in the best place for an inland march to one of our principle towns. The southern group will head to Glastonbury, the central group to Salisbury, and . . . ‘ ‘. . . the last group here,’ said Alfred, finishing the sentence for him. ‘Where are your men?’ asked Twilight. ‘All ten thousand of them are here, outside Winchester.’ Alfred
looked thoughtful. ‘May I make a suggestion, my lord?’ Alfred looked at Twilight.
‘Of course.’
‘If you can get half of your men to Salisbury quickly, they could get there before the marauders and dig in for the defense of that town. The other half can stay here to defend Winchester, and I’ll take care of the southern group.’
‘Edward?’ Alfred looked at de Gaini.
‘If we leave tonight I can have five thousand men in Salisbury by tomorrow afternoon,’ replied the battle leader.
‘Hugh?’ Alfred switched his gray-green eyes to Easton.
‘The ramparts of this castle are impregnable, especially with five thousand trained soldiers. And since they are already here, they can be in place at first light tomorrow.’
‘Good,’ said the king. ‘That leaves you, veneficus.’
‘We will do our best,’ replied Twilight. ‘But do not forget, the Norsemen have their own venefici. Two of them. Twins, to be precise. Not forgetting the animals that are in ligamen to them and who will add greatly to their fighting capability.’
‘Ah,’ said Alfred, ‘and just what are their animals?’
Desmond, do not react to what I am about to say. We will discuss it later.
‘One has sea eagles and the other bears.’
Desmond’s eyes bulged at the revelation, and it was all he could do not to cry out in dismay.
‘Sea eagles and bears,’ said Alfred, stroking his sparse beard reflectively.
Septimus Godleman spoke for the first time.
‘My liege,’ he said vehemently, ‘I really must protest at all this rubbish. How do we know that this purveyor of black sorcery and his disreputable companion are telling us the truth? For all we know they could be Viking spies sent to divert us from the true paths of the invasion, or there is no invasion at all. To rely on their low shamanism and trickery when the very defense of Wessex could be at stake is clearly wrong.’
Alfred said nothing but looked at Twilight with his brows raised.
‘How would you handle it, priest?’ asked Twilight evenly.
‘How I have always handled oppression and tyranny, with God’s words and precious unction.’ He shook his silver curls in a display of piety and held his hands up to the heavens, allowing the silk sleeves to slide down his arms. ‘I wear the cloth of God as a divine writ against those who would cause their own downfall by sloth and malpractice.’
‘Amen,’ said Alfred, which was followed by four other
Amens
from around the table.
Sensing that matters were going his way, Godleman pressed home his advantage.
‘And if you think that you can affect or inhabit my mind with your deception and dupery, beware, for I am protected by God against such demonization.’
Twilight looked around the table before coming back to Alfred.
‘My lord, the decisions are yours. For my part I will be attending to the southern raiders.’