Rift (30 page)

Thomas bowed his head.

“Does the man care for nothing other than himself?” Lukasz asked, shaking his head.

Alistair’s face reddened with fury while Sorcha’s paled.

“We’ll all burn,” she said. Barrow took her hand, scowling at no one in particular.

“Peace, my friends.” Father Michael, who’d been sitting quietly in the corner of the room, stood up and came to Eira’s side.

“Indeed this is deeply troubling,” he said. “But God will show mercy to those who place their trust in him.”

Sorcha laughed mirthlessly. “You’re a good man, Father Michael. But your claims about God are quite empty when his agent schemes thus.”

The priest’s eyes were sad. “You speak the truth, Sorcha. We know too well that there are those who claim to serve God but serve only mammon. But the heart cannot serve two masters. The work you do here is God’s work. Have faith and our path will reveal itself.”

Sorcha returned his kind smile with a scornful stare. Hopeless expressions overtook the remainder of the group.

Keeping her voice quiet, Eira said, “There may be another way.”

It took a moment for anyone to react to her words. Cian acknowledged her first.

“Another way?”

Eira took her time, choosing her words carefully. “After the abbot made his threats, I sought out the prisoner.”

“Alone?” Thomas frowned at her. “This prisoner has powers we’ve never encountered, Eira. Any interrogation of him should not be taken lightly.”

“Of course it was impulsive,” Eira said. “And I beg pardon of the Circle. But I believe my desire to learn more of him may have proven fruitful. Vital, even.”

Barrow’s brow knit together. “The man is insane. I have a hard time believing he will be anything but a burden to us. How can we be aided by one whose words have no meaning?”

Swallowing her frustration, Eira smiled at the knight. “He spoke some sense to me, Barrow.”

“Why would he gain clarity in your presence when he had none for us?” Barrow asked.

Eira opened and closed her mouth. She had been about to repeat what the wild man had said to her, that she was the one his master sought and only she. Something held her tongue—not a desire to deceive the others, but a twist in her heart that whispered to reveal that bit of information might hinder her from fully using it as she wished.

“Eira?” Cian was watching her sister with increasing concern. “What did he say?”

Quickly calculating how to share enough but not all she’d learned, Eira said, “He claims to know the source of the evils we’ve sworn to defeat.”

“The source?” Lukasz straightened in his chair.

“Yes,” Eira told him, then let her gaze sweep over the entire group. “The power of which you spoke, Thomas, this man claims it is no power of his own.”

“He didn’t call the striga?” Sorcha asked.

Eira shook her head. “He spoke to me of his master. One who commands all the creatures we’ve encountered. All we hope to destroy.”

“That’s not possible,” Claudio said. “No such being exists.”

Father Michael’s voice was quiet. “As a member of the Circle, Claudio, you should know better than to speak of what is and is not possible. Is not most of our calling to defeat that which is impossible for most of our brothers and sisters in this world to fathom?”

Claudio dropped his gaze.

Encouraged by Father Michael’s words, Eira pressed on: “If what our prisoner says is true, we might be able to hunt his master. If we can defeat him, it may mean we’ve cut off the path by which these monsters enter our world. Now we only hold these wicked creatures at bay; if we were to banish them forever, we would be honored above all others.”

Barrow was shaking his head. “I don’t believe it. Your hopes are understandable, Eira, but this man is raving mad. He’s infatuated by his own power and making up stories to sustain his delusions.”

“Have you another explanation for the six striga that served him?” Eira snapped.

“Eira’s right, Barrow,” Alistair said. “We were caught unawares. No sorcerer we’ve tracked has ever had more than one beast under his command.”

Sorcha put her hand on Barrow’s arm. “Even a madman sometimes speaks the truth.”

Eira smiled, about to continue, when Thomas broke in. “Even if he is revealing truth to us, how does it change our standing with the abbot?”

Ewan nodded. “The abbot is our primary concern. Once we’ve determined how best to proceed, we can investigate the matter of this prisoner. We can keep him in the stockade as long as we need.”

“We need more time to question him,” Fionn added.

“That may be the wisest course at this time,” Father Michael said. “I can pursue channels within the Church. Abbot Crichton has made enemies, and perhaps we can find a sympathetic ear among his superiors.”

“Forgive my disagreement, Father,” Eira said, feeling the tone of the room shifting away from her interests. “But even if such a friend in the Church hierarchy exists, the abbot need only begin a whispered campaign to spread lies about our order and we’ll find ourselves subject to investigation. Too many fear heresy; we can’t risk that. What I’m proposing would allow us to bypass all the corrupt channels of politics.”

“How, Eira?” Cian asked. “Why will seeking out this supposed master help us in this matter?”

“Don’t you see?” Eira struggled with her frustration. “If we find this master, we’ll have the answers we’ve always sought. Our prisoner claims he serves a creature that opens the door to the other side. If we gain such secrets, how can the abbot oppose us? How could anyone oppose us? To manipulate our work would be to circumvent the very purpose of Conatus!”

Thomas, Conatus’s quartermaster, blew out a weary sigh. “Dear Eira, what you’re suggesting is a terrible gamble. You would make our work known to the public, which would invite chaos. The abbot already threatens to undermine our purpose. I find it highly unlikely that any new wisdom or secrets we might find would change the disposition of such a man.”

“But—” Eira cast a pleading glance at Cian.

Cian spread helpless hands on the table. “I fear Thomas is right. The abbot has shown himself to be single-minded in all things.”

“There’s another concern as well.” Lukasz rose, folding his arms across his chest. “If indeed this creature the prisoner calls his master exists, we know nothing of its capabilities.”

“Go on.” Claudio regarded the commander with interest.

Lukasz began to pace as he spoke. “The man we captured claims the striga weren’t under his command but his master’s. If that’s true, who is to say that this being can’t summon any number of monsters to his aid?”

Eira’s hands balled into fists. She wanted to object, but she couldn’t deny the soundness of Lukasz’s words.

“What if this prisoner is here only to bait us?” he continued. “He offered no resistance to his capture. He sits in his cell without complaint.”

“You think he means to lead us into a trap?” Barrow asked.

“I don’t know,” Lukasz said. “I’m only pointing out what’s possible.”

Eira bowed her head. Hadn’t she suspected the same thing?

She looked up in surprise when Alistair said, “But we could at least send a scouting party. It would behoove us to seek out evidence of this creature, would it not?”

“Yes,” Eira said a little too quickly, gaining a sharp look from her sister.

Eira returned the look steadily. “The Guard should send a party to hunt for the sorcerer’s master.”

“The Guard is riding to Dorusduain.” Lukasz offered her a quizzical glance. “You’d have us split our force. We don’t know what we’re riding into.”

“Forgo the mission to Dorusduain,” Eira told him. “Our prisoner claims that the village is gone
because
of his master’s power.”

“How could you keep this from us?” Sorcha asked, drawing a sharp breath.

“I’m telling you now,” Eira said. “What truth lies in this claim, I know not. But the wild man says he was the source of the message about Dorusduain.”

“That’s impossible.” Lukasz scowled. “We captured the sorcerer in the Black Forest. The messenger who brought news of Dorusduain said he was stopped by a stranger on the road from Cluanie.”

“I can’t explain it.” Eira straightened, refusing to give ground. “But how would he know of the message?”

Thomas scratched his beard. “Perhaps a coven of warlocks has risen. Our prisoner could be in league with others.”

“Then we must force our prisoner to reveal the identities of his brothers,” Sorcha said. “And we will hunt them down.”

Barrow nodded. “If they’ve been working together, it could explain the large group of striga. They’d have more power in greater numbers.”

Eira kept quiet. Though she couldn’t pin down why, she knew the sorcerer wasn’t part of a coven. The impossibility of his claims, his very madness, made her believe him incapable of the plot Sorcha was suggesting.

“And if it isn’t a coven?” Cian asked. “Summoning striga is one thing—but what of Dorusduain? Have we encountered any warlock or sorcerer capable of emptying a village with no trace of bloodshed? If this creature the sorcerer calls master is real, what will that mean for us?”

“I fear it would mean war,” Lukasz said quietly. “And a type of war the world has never seen.”

Thomas was watching the commander. “I think you’re right, Lukasz. Even if not a war, any unnatural skirmishes of a greater scale than those we are accustomed to, any larger number of these creatures, could draw attention to Conatus in a dangerous way. If their territories go up in smoke or are suddenly overrun by demons, we’ll be answering to the armies of kings as well as our usual foes.”

“Which would be just as bad as what Abbot Crichton threatens.” Cian nodded.

Sorcha gritted her teeth. “Such a course could be our own undoing.”

“I disagree.” Eira spoke, suddenly desperate to regain control of this discussion. “If we’re going to seek out this ‘master,’ we should not delay.”

“You seem to feel strongly about this issue.” Thomas turned to her. “Why?”

“Because Eira is always for war,” Fionn grumbled.

“It’s the perfect time.” Eira ignored Fionn, answering Thomas. “Now that France is giving aid to the Welsh rebellion, the English are too distracted to pay us mind. And the French are too worried about England to notice what we’re doing.”

Kael thumbed the edge of his dagger. “If the English and French can’t sort themselves out, this war will go on for a hundred years.”

Barrow laughed roughly, nodding. “Indeed it will.”

“What about the Scots?” Claudio asked. “Considering the location of this keep, it’s them we’d best keep an eye on.”

“They’re mired in the succession, plotting ways to kill all the heirs apparent,” Ewan said, earning a cold laugh from Fionn.

“And the Church is focused on the schism,” Eira said. “As long as we keep Abbot Crichton happy with his payment for now, we won’t have trouble with the Church. He’s playing the same game we are, trying to stay out of the mess made by Rome and Avignon. And he’s using the distraction of their squabble to increase his own fortunes. The more land and influence he claims, the more sway he’ll have over whoever claims the papacy. The abbot is now the only one watching us. We have time to work with, but who knows how long that will last.”

Cian folded her hands, resting them on the table. “I don’t trust the soundness of this strategy, sister.”

Eira’s face went blank. “How so?”

“The prisoner is clearly unstable,” Cian said. “We have no way of knowing if he speaks anything other than madness. Why waste our energies?”

“Then what harm could come from investigating his claims?” Eira smiled. “That’s all I ask.”

“Any time we send the Guard into the field there is a risk,” Ewan said. “I’m not certain that this search for a source of the darkness we fight is wise. Particularly with the abbot looking over our shoulder. At any moment he could cry heresy and all our lives would be forfeit.”

“But it is the only chance we have to find the source—the greatest mystery of all,” Eira argued. “Why wouldn’t we take it?”

“If it were that simple, it would indeed be a worthy mission,” Cian said. “But I can’t believe it’s that simple.”

“Cian speaks true,” Ewan said. “We need more time. The prisoner is ill and his testament unreliable.”

“Any delay is a mistake,” Eira whispered, trying to mask her anger. “A terrible mistake.”

Ewan shook his head. “Your petition remains under consideration, Eira. I only ask patience until we gain more wisdom on this matter.”

“The Guard will investigate Dorusduain as we’d planned,” Lukasz said. “After we’ve learned what happened to the village, we’ll be better able to plot our next move.”

Eira bowed her head. “As you wish.” But her heart had already chosen another path.

TWENTY-THREE

EIRA URGED HER MARE,
Geal, into the thick mist high atop the hillside, searching for the cairn. She’d visited this place before. As an ancient grave marker, the pile of stones had attracted the attention of a warlock. They’d captured him but not before he’d slit the throat of the foolish girl he’d lured to the site. Though she’d viewed it as a tragedy at the time, today Eira counted the girl’s death as good fortune. A rightful end for an empty-headed ninny, so easily led to her doom.