The Arcanist (5 page)

“His king?” The lady seemed unimpressed, and understandably so. To her a king was no more important than any other man. In other words completely insignificant. But at least she had been distracted. “What do I care of his king? Do I even know him?”

“Probably not Honoured Mother. Like all men he is surely beneath your notice. But my brother and I are simple mortals, and to us our king is important. And so when he commands us to come before you and speak on a matter of great importance to the people, we must obey.”

“This king of yours sent you to disturb me?”

“Never, only to ask for your great wisdom in answering a question of a terrible suffering.”

Marcus stared at him, obviously wondering why he was being so obsequious. It wasn't the way a man of the House of Barris should act, especially when he had been given a mission by the king. A twelve foot tall woman made of tree bark and covered in leaves and moss didn't trouble him in the slightest.  But at least he didn't say anything.

“Were women harmed in this suffering?”

“Many, Honoured Mother. A great many. Hundreds of innocent men, women and children were killed. Thousands were injured. And tens of thousands have been left homeless. Also, the shrine of your handmaidens was damaged in the attack.”

“Innocent women and children? My shrine? Why is it that men do such terrible things?”

And why was it he wondered, that she was looking at him as she asked? Did she imagine he had something to do with it? Or did she truly imagine he might have some sort of answer?

“With respect we do not know who did this terrible thing Honoured Mother. We do not know if he was a man at all. Nor why he did this thing. All that we truly know is that someone of great power opened a portal just outside of Theria and sent through an entire herd of frightened mammoths. They levelled half the city in their stampede, trampling and killing many.”

“Yesterday evening? I felt that. But I had no thought that it was done to cause harm. Had I known that defenceless women and children would be deliberately attacked I would have paid more attention. And innocent beasts were frightened too. It is unforgivable.”

Edouard believed her. Despite everything Tyrel was actually quite a decent woman for a power. She did not set out to cause harm to anyone, let alone those she considered her wards. Unless of course they annoyed her or threatened those she considered her charges. Then harm did not go anywhere near far enough to describe what she did.

“Remain here. I must think upon this. I must collect my memories of the evening to see if there is anything to be done.” She turned on her heels and took off for the temple, before stopping suddenly and turning back.

“Little Edouard of the foolish heart, for once you were right to act as you have in bringing this to me. You give me hope that even among your sorry kind there are some with a spark of decency.”

Edouard bowed to her in gratitude, and then watched her walk away, back to her shrine. And for a moment he almost imagined that they were going to get out of this alive. Then his brother had to open his mouth again.

“Why is she naked?”

Marcus whispered the foolish question in his ear, his thoughts clearly not on the mission as he'd already forgotten everything Edouard had told him. But then he was a natural born lecher and he was surrounded by pretty women. Left to his own devices he would have forgotten everything about the king's mission and simply stood there staring like a dog with his tongue hanging out. Then of course Tyrel would have been offended and judgement would have been passed. That was why Edouard had come with him. Not that he had really expected that Tyrel would have any knowledge of the attack or any involvement with it.

“Close your mouth you idiot! She can hear every word you speak!” Edouard hissed. Unfortunately it was too late. Tyrel turned back once more from her path to the temple, and stared at them. She did not look happy.

“Is that of concern to you mortal man? Do you find my lack of dress distressing in some way? Unbecoming?”

“Never Honoured Mother.” Edouard jumped in again, knowing his brother would have no clue as to how bad things could get if the Mother became upset with him – and that he would probably say something even more foolish. “My brother is simply unused to the ways of your temple. No slight was intended.”

“A silver tongue in sooth.” The hamadryad studied him once more leaving Edouard feeling distinctly uncomfortable. “And it is praiseworthy that you so quickly jump to your brother's defence, time and again. But it is not so praiseworthy that you should have to.”

She turned to Marcus and Edouard's blood chilled.

“Marcus Severin you are known as a lecher of the first water. The only reason you still live is that you have not forced your will upon the young or vulnerable against their will and you have sometimes chosen to act in their defence. But yours is not a record to be proud of. It is certainly not the life of someone who should feel welcome in my temple.”

“I dress or not as I choose, and none shall question me on it.” With a thought, nothing more, she took his clothes off him and in the blink of an eye his brother was left standing there, buck naked.

“Huh?”

Edouard leapt on him before he could say anything more, wrapped him up in a bear hug and physically covered his mouth with his hand, making sure he didn't try.

“Most fair Honoured Mother.” Edouard even managed a slight nod to her as he gasped the words out, and that seemed to be enough as she turned away from them once more and headed off to her temple, saying nothing. Though she might have noticed the way Marcus was trying to wriggle out of his clutches, tossing him around like an annoying flea if she'd looked back. Praise the seven she didn't. Marcus had been given a very blunt warning.

“Not a bloody word!” Grief Marcus was strong he thought as his brother lifted him off the ground and started wriggling around, trying to flick him off him like a wet dog shaking himself dry. “Not a single bloody word from you! No more!”

He let go then and let his brother turn to face him, to see the worry in his eyes and the deadly seriousness in his heart. Marcus had to understand how bad things were. Then, predictably enough, Marcus remembered that he was naked and his hands went to his manhood as he tried desperately to cover himself up.

“Where are my clothes? My armour? My sword?”

“Gone you great oaf! Be grateful you aren't gone with them. The hamadryad isn't going to tolerate another word from you. Now hush. We wait silently and respectfully for the Honoured Mother to make her decision. And whatever it is, we accept it with gratitude.”

“But –.”

“No! Seven bloody hells no Marcus! Men have no say here. Mortal men even less. And you none at all. In fact I don't know why she spared your life! All the weapons and armies in the world could not change that this is Tyrel's place. This is never a place that we should have come.”

They spent the next little while like that, Marcus upset about his missing clothes and Edouard trying to keep him quiet. He just didn't seem to understand that he could have disappeared with his clothes in the same blink of an eye. It didn't help that as they stood there, Marcus desperately trying to cover himself with his hands, the handmaidens were wandering past, all of them trying to hide a smile. In fact he just turned red and grew more angry.

But at least when Tyrel returned he had learned better than to open his mouth, and so instead he just stood there, head bowed, hands strategically placed. He was finally learning at least a little wisdom.

Tyrel herself seemed to be in no mood for further conversation – something that Edouard found a relief – and instead simply informed them of her decision.

“A great evil has been done and it needs investigation. I will send two of my handmaidens with you to study the scene.”

“Kyriel, Mara.” She didn't raise her voice in any way and neither was there any magic involved that Edouard could tell, and yet the two handmaidens were instantly with them. It was almost as if they had been waiting for her call. Maybe they had been.

“Sweet Tyrel, how may we serve?” They both bowed low, all the way to their knees in fact, and Edouard knew that the gesture was genuine. They didn't bow out of fear or the desire for reward, nor were they forced to by the hamadryad's great power. They genuinely wished to serve her. They called her their Honoured Mother not out of fear or respect but rather love.

“You will go with these two boys, to the place where the portal was opened, and learn what you can of the events of the previous night. And see to it that no more innocents are harmed by the frightened beasts. Bring those poor creatures to safe pastures.”

Edouard could feel Marcus bristling beside him at being called a boy. But at least he kept his mouth shut. Being stripped naked in the blink of an eye had knocked some of the bluster out of him. At least something finally had.

“And you two.” She turned her attention back to them. “I expect that my handmaidens will be treated with respect.” It was a warning, and Edouard had expected it. Whatever else she might be, the hamadryad was always concerned with the well being of her servants. Far more so than the other powers.

“I will see to it personally Honoured Mother.” He bowed low, and with a few short waves of his hand managed to convince Marcus to do the same.

“You may go.”

Three beautiful words. Three very beautiful words. And as Edouard bowed some more to her and turned on his heels, he couldn't help but think that the air had suddenly become so much fresher than before. So much easier to breathe.

It was no wonder there was a spring in his step as he left. What he really wanted to do though, was run. Actually run screaming in terror. It was only the fact that Tyrel might have regarded that as a slight upon her hospitality and killed them both on the spot that stopped him.

Chapter Four

The four of them reached the carriage in good time. Edouard and Marcus were both in a hurry to leave the temple, though they did their best to hide it from the women. So they all but marched across the grounds and the women had to nearly run to keep up with them. He doubted though that they were happy with the hurried departure. People didn't hurry in the temple. It was a place of worship and quiet contemplation.

Conversation was kept to a minimum between them. Marcus was quiet because he didn't feel comfortable talking when he was naked, and he was too busy concentrating on covering his private parts with his hands. Edouard was quiet because he was too busy worrying that despite all that had been said, there would still come a moment when the hamadryad's magic would come flying for him. That he was simply being allowed to imagine that he had been set free, when it was all in reality just a cruel jest.

But at least they had managed some introductions. Mara was a dark haired woman who struck him as being both plain spoken and demure, but also sharp of eye and suspicious. She watched the two of them closely, studying them while pretending otherwise. And though she probably wouldn't admit it, he recognised her family name of Perrin as one coming from Farring Cross. The family were known for the quality of the wines they produced, and though they weren't nobility as far as he knew, they were very affluent.

Kyriel was the Tenarri they had encountered earlier. She wasn’t one to chatter and always kept her hand near the hilt of her suddenly acquired blade. She stood ready for whatever might come. But that was the way of her people. They always stood ready, whether for war or a duel to the death. There was a reason that they were known as warriors and feared as such. Though he could think of no reason why one should be with the hamadryad.

Nor could he think why she claimed to belong to no house when he asked. She was obviously of noble blood. Why did she not claim her house? But he would not pry he decided. Especially not this close to the temple of Tyrel.

“There's a cloak in the trunk.” Edouard mentioned it to Marcus once the carriage came into view, and then tried not to laugh as he watched his brother take off running for the garment, bare cheeks bouncing in the wind. He didn't completely succeed.

“What is this thing? Where are the horses?”

Of course his guests were less amused by his brother's nakedness, and somewhat more concerned by the sight of the horseless carriage. He could understand that. Though there were a few of them around in the large cities, they weren't a common sight, mostly because it took a lot of craftsmanship to build one.

“It's a horseless carriage. It pulls itself along the roads.”

“It pulls itself? You jest!”

Kyriel seemed torn between disbelief and anger, as if he was making fun of her. He wouldn't dare. Even if she wasn't a handmaiden of Tyrel, she was Tenarri, and she had a blade at her side. She'd picked it up in the temple before coming with them. He wasn't sure why or even where it had been stored. He could see no buildings on the grounds. But he was sure that he didn't want to offend her while she carried a sword. The skills of her people with a blade were legendary. Besides, he would never insult a lady and, whether she was of noble birth or not, she was a handmaiden of Tyrel, a priestess. That demanded respect. Especially anywhere near Tyrel's temple.

“Not at all my Lady. The barrel on the back of the wagon is filled with water, which is heated by the fire underneath. The hot water produces steam, and the steam is trapped and used to turn a flywheel. The flywheel then turns the back wheels and the carriage moves.”

“An iron horse without tracks.”

Of course she came from an advanced land, and would have seen the mighty iron wagons travelling back and forth between the cities of Tenarri. She might even have ridden on them. One day he hoped to do the same though it would never be in Therion.

“Exactly my Lady.”

“And you built this?” She turned to him, surprised.

“Yes my Lady.” He nodded to her, pleased by what he hoped was a hint of respect in her tone. His skills as an arcanist were well practised. After all, a third son had to have something to do with his time while he wasn't inheriting or being involved in the family business and that was his passion.

Many of his friends had turned to carousing and wenching as their days of enforced idleness grew long. He had done the same for a while – until his father had pointed out the error of his ways. It had been a mistake for all of them. Naturally his friends' fathers had quickly insisted that they either enlist in the army or join one of the temples. It was the standard role of minor sons. Eventually they would be married off to forge alliances. He on the other hand had not wanted to do either of those things and had decided to exercise his mind and his magic instead. He had also bought a fort and moved to a town far enough away from Theria that he could not embarrass his family.

Of course he could be wrong about her thoughts on the horseless carriage. After all she was a handmaiden for Tyrel, and Tyrel did not like such things. She considered them smelly and noisy – and with good reason he ruefully accepted. She would not allow them on her land.

Because of her disapproval the long dreamt of railway line between Theria and Bitter Crest to the southwest had never been started. In time it would have been extended on to the cities of Farring Cross to the north east and they would have had fifty leagues of track connecting five cities. It would have been a major boon for the region. But that had been only a dream when the flat land they needed impinged on her temple. Even the road that passed by the temple's front yard – in reality little more than a dirt track that was occasionally levelled out – was almost too much for Tyrel. She tolerated it only because it allowed tribute to be brought to her and for her handmaidens to travel more easily.

The ladies said nothing as he escorted them the rest of the way to the carriage, hopefully appreciating his craftsmanship, and by the time they reached it, Marcus was already wrapped up in his thick travelling cloak. It was too small for him of course; all those years training with swords had given his brother a powerful frame. But it still covered what needed to be covered. That in turn had restored a little of his normal confidence.

“Ladies.” Edouard managed a small bow as he folded down the small flight of steps to let them board the carriage, and even offered his hand to help them. They refused of course, and clambered aboard by themselves. Hand maidens had pride. Tenarri handmaidens had quite a lot of it.

Edouard clambered on board after them, using the hand rail he'd crafted to help him into the controller's seat, and then checked the gauges. They were good. Despite having been left parked there for over an hour, there was still plenty of steam in the boiler, and soon he knew there would be more as he pulled the chain that let the wood and coal in the hopper pour into the boiler furnace.

“Is everyone comfortable?” It was only good manners to ask, though no one seemed that happy for some reason. His brother because he'd unwittingly gifted his favourite riding mare to Tyrel, lost his clothes, pistol and his sword, and he really didn't like the mechanical carriage; the handmaidens probably because it would not have been seemly to look anything but serious. But they all nodded, and so he let loose the hand brake, swung the steering bar into place and then pushed forward the lever that released the steam.

Immediately they were pushed back in their seats as the carriage took off, and he heard a couple of surprised gasps from the ladies in the seat behind them. It might look like a somewhat strange carriage, but the horseless carriage could be quite quick. Of course it could also be quite bumpy, and the huge set of springs he'd fitted between the coach and the wheels turned the bumps into an unexpectedly large bouncing motion. The road was probably due for some grading.

Still, they made good time, the carriage travelling as fast as a horse could gallop, or at least canter, over the road, and the ten leagues back to Breakwater began disappearing at a goodly and steady rate. That was the true advantage of the carriage over a horse. It wasn't faster than a horse, but it simply didn't tire.

Conversation was kept to a few pleasantries as they travelled. The handmaidens had little interest in conversing with men of course, and in any case there was always the chance that the bouncing would cause them to bite their tongues. There was also little to say. Until they reached Theria and the scene of the attack, whatever they said would have been nothing more than idle speculation.

For his part, Edouard was simply enjoying the countryside as he celebrated surviving. For some reason the rolling green hills looked more beautiful than ever before, and the sun above was warmer. Maybe the risk hadn't been that great – it was hard to judge from the perspective of one who had never been to the temple before or met with the Mother – but it still felt good. And the relief as the carriage bounced over the track heading towards his home was unbelievable.

Later he knew, he'd consider being upset by some of what Tyrel had said. His home was on the edge of her land? It was ten full leagues away and there were plenty of farms and forests between them. Did the Mother consider them her lands? And what about Breakwater itself, his home town? Was that hers as well? The townsfolk wouldn't be happy to hear that. Not that any would be foolish enough to object. Though to most people powers were beings more of legend and wild fireside stories than anything more real, none truly doubted what they could do if they were angered.

Then there were the comments Tyrel had made about never being cruel. They annoyed him. How could she say such a thing? The legends of her barbarism were known far and wide. Yet she seemed to have taken it as an affront that he should even have suggested such a thing. Truly she didn't understand what it was to be a mortal.

Neither did she understand the overwhelming fear that drove the boys who fled her temple. Such fear that for the most part they ran the ten long leagues along the track to Breakwater, pushing themselves far beyond what they could normally do. When they arrived at his door having heard that he could help them they were mostly broken creatures. Terrified beyond reason. He had to get them to safety. It was the proper thing to do. The hamadryad though had no understanding of that.

But then as if to belie all that, she considered the attack on Theria a great evil? Compared to what she did? It didn't make a lot of sense to him. Unless perhaps the legends were in fact more fiction than fact. He was beginning to suspect as much. But Edouard knew better than to say anything. Besides, maybe she could help.

He was somewhat amazed that Tyrel had sent her handmaidens to investigate. She didn't often concern herself with matters of the wider world. In fact as long as the world didn't come calling on her she was an agreeable neighbour. All of the powers were. By and large they seldom if ever left their homes; some even suggested that it was uncomfortable for them when they did. That much of their magic was tied to their homes, and that if they left them they were weakened. A few even claimed that they couldn't leave their homes. That they were trapped there. Of course no one had ever asked any of the powers that – at least no one that he had heard of – so it was all just speculation.

Still, Edouard could only imagine that the fact that Tyrel had sent her handmaidens suggested she had some interest in the attack. More than what she had let on. But not enough that she chose to leave her home herself to investigate in person. For her it would have surely been a matter of a few heartbeats to learn whatever she wanted to learn. For her handmaidens it would take longer. Whether that was a good thing or bad he wasn't sure.

He wondered if the other powers had done the same. If they had also sent their servants to investigate. He could imagine Ascorlexia investigating, though not for any humanitarian reason. Not for concern over the loss of life or the suffering. He didn't consider such things important. He probably didn't consider them at all.

The ancient black dragon cared only about knowledge. Only about the books he could read and add to his great library. His servants it was said, were those who had written books he considered unworthy in some way. Some had borrowed too much from others. Others served because their writings had contained glaring inaccuracies. Occasionally they served because what they had written went against the dragon’s cherished beliefs, whatever they might be. How he obtained his servants Edouard didn't know. No one did. All they really knew was that when such an unworthy tome was printed the dragon knew. And then its author vanished only to appear in his cavern. Supposedly to begin his new life in servitude, learning what the dragon considered important for anyone of letters to know. Ascorlexia cared nothing for people, only for what they might set down on paper.