Last Sword Of Power (5 page)

'He's dead. They killed him, because he spoke up for me.'

The man's hand moved to Cormac's forehead. 'Sleep now and we will speak later, when the danger is past.'

As Revelation's fingers touched his brow, a great drowsiness flowed over the boy like a warm blanket. . . And he slept without dreams.

He awoke in the night to find himself covered by a thick woollen blanket, his head resting on a folded cloak. Rolling over, he saw Revelation sitting by a small fire, lost in thought. 'Thank you,' said Cormac. 'It was my pleasure. How do you feel?' 'Rested. The hunters?'

'They gave up and returned to their homes. I expect they will come back in the morning with hounds. Are you hungry?' Revelation lifted a copper pot from the fire, stirring the contents with a stick. 'I have some broth, fresh rabbit, dried beef and herbs.' He poured a generous portion into a deep wooden bowl and passed it to the boy. Cormac accepted it gratefully.

'Are you on a pilgrimage?' he asked, between mouthfuls.

'Of a kind. I am going home.'

'You are a Briton?'

'No. How is the broth?'

'Delicious.'

'Tell me of Grysstha.'

'How do you know the name?'

The bearded man smiled. 'You mentioned it in your sleep. He was your friend?'

'Yes. He lost his right hand fighting the Blood King. After that he was a goatherd; he raised me and I was like his son.'

'Then you were his son; there is more to being parent than the ties of blood. Why do they hate you?'

'I don't know,' said Cormac, remembering Grysstha's dying words. 'Are you a priest?'

'What makes you think so?'

'I saw a priest of the White Christ once. He wore a habit like yours, and sandals. But he had a cross of wood he wore on his neck.'

'I am not a priest.'

'A warrior, then?' said Cormac doubtfully, for the man carried no weapons save a long staff that now lay beside him.

'Nor a warrior. Simply a man. Where were you heading?'

'Dubris. I could find work there.'

'For what are you trained?'

'I have worked in a smithy, a mill and a pottery. They would not let me work in the bakery.'

'Why?'

'I was not allowed to touch their food, but sometimes the baker would let me clean his rooms. Are you going to Dubris?'

'No. To Noviomagus to the west.'

'Oh.'

'Why not come with me? It is a pleasant walk and the company would be fine.'

'West is where my enemies are.'

'Do not concern yourselves with enemies, Cormac. They shall not harm you.'

'You do not know them.'

"They will not know you. Look!' From his backpack the man pulled a mirror of polished brass. Cormac took it and gasped, for staring back at him was a dark-haired youth, thin-lipped and round of face.

'You are a nigromancer' he whispered, fear rising.

'No,' said the man softly. 'I am Revelation.'

Despite his shock. Cormac struggled to think through the choices facing him. The stranger had not harmed him, had allowed him to keep his sword and had treated him kindly. But he was a sorcerer and this alone was enough to strike terror into the boy's heart. Suppose he wanted Cormac for some ghastly blood sacrifice, to feed his heart to a demon? Or as a slave?

And yet if Cormac tried to reach Dubris alone, he would be hunted down and slain like a mad dog.

At least if the sorcerer had evil plans for him, they were not plans for today.

'I will travel with you to Noviomagus,' he stated.

'A wise choice, young Cormac,' said Revelation, rising smoothly and gathering his belongings. He scraped the pot and bowl clean with a handful of scrub grass and returned them to his back-pack. Then, without a backward glance, he set off in the moonlight towards the west.

Cormac joined him, struggling to match the man's long stride as they walked out of the forested hills and across the dales of the South Saxon. At midnight Revelation stopped in a sheltered hollow and lit a fire, using an ornate tinder-box that fascinated Cormac. Of silver, it was embossed with a fire-breathing dragon. Revelation tossed it to the boy, then added twigs to the tiny blaze, feeding it to greater strength.

'It was made in Tingis, in the north of Africa, by an old Greek named Melchiades. He loves to create works of art around items we use every day. It is an obsession with him, but I love his work.' Cormac opened the box carefully. Inside was a sprung lever in the shape of a dragon's head; in the mouth was a sharp-edged flint. When the lever was depressed the flint ran along a serrated iron grille, causing a shower of sparks.

'It is beautiful.'

'Yes. Now make yourself useful and gather some wood.' Cormac handed back the box and moved among the trees, gathering wind-fall fuel. When he returned Revelation had spread ferns on the ground by the fire for a soft bed. The tall traveller built up the blaze and then lay down under his blanket; he was asleep within seconds. Cormac sat beside him for a while, listening to the sounds of the night.

Then he too slept.

Soon after dawn the travellers set off once more, after a breakfast of fresh bread and cheese. How the bread could be fresh worried Cormac not at all now that he knew his companion was a man of magic. Anyone who could alter another man's face and hair would have no difficulty with creating a tasty loaf!

The riders came into sight just before noon, behind a dog-handler with six leashed wolfhounds. As the dogs spotted the two travellers they bounded forward, baying furiously. Their strength dragged the handler from his feet and he was forced to release the ropes as they sped onwards.

'Stand still,' ordered Revelation. He raised his staff and waited as the hounds closed with ferocious speed, fangs bared for the attack.

'Down!' he bellowed and the hounds ceased their growling and halted before him. 'Down, I said!' Obediently the dogs dropped to their haunches as the five horsemen cantered forward. They were led by Agwaine, his brother Lennox behind him. The other three were carles from Calder's hall, grim-eyed men bearing hand-axes.

The red-faced, mud-spattered dog-handler gathered the trailing leashes and pulled the dogs back into line.

'Good day,' said Revelation, leaning forward on his staff. 'Hunting?'

Agwaine touched his heels to his horse and rode close to Cormac. 'We are seeking a boy around this lad's age, wearing a similar tunic.'

'A red-haired lad?'

'You have seen him?'

'Yes. Is he a runaway?'

'What he is is no business of yours,' snapped Agwaine.

'Come, boy,' Revelation told Cormac and walked on, threading his way through the riders. Cormac followed swiftly.

'Where do you think you're going?' shouted Agwaine as he hauled on the reins, turning his horse and cantering to block Revelation's path.

'You are beginning to irritate me, young puppy. Move aside.'

'Where is the boy?'

Revelation    raised    his    hand    suddenly    and Agwaine's horse shied, tipping the youth to the grass. Revelation walked on.

'Take him!' yelled Agwaine and the three Saxon carles dismounted and ran forward.

Revelation swung to face them, once more leaning

on his staff.

The men approached warily. The staff lanced upwards to connect with the nearest man's groin and with a strangled scream he dropped his axe and fell to his knees. Revelation blocked a wild-axe blow and his staff thundered against a bearded chin, pole-axing a second warrior. The third looked to Agwaine for orders.

'I would think twice before hunting the boy,' said Revelation. 'From what I have seen here, you would have trouble tackling a wounded fawn.'

'Ten gold pieces,' said Agwaine, lifting a leather pouch from his saddlebag and tipping the coins into

his hand.

'Ah, now that is a different matter, young sir. The boy told me he was heading for Dubris. I last saw him yesterday, on the high path.'

Agwaine dropped the money back into his pouch and rode away.

'No more than I would expect from a Saxon,' said Revelation, smiling. He gathered up his pack and strolled towards the west with Cormac running alongside him.

'I thought you said you were no warrior?'

"That was yesterday. Who was that young man?'

'Agwaine, son of Calder.'

'I dislike him intensely.'

'So do I. Had it not been for him, Grysstha would still be alive.'

'How so?'

'He has a sister, Alftruda. She put her arms around me, so Agwaine and his brothers attacked me. That's why.'

'A childish squabble? How can that cause a man's death?'

'It is the law. I am not allowed to strike any villager, not even to protect myself.'

'A strange law, Cormac. Does it apply only to you?'

'Yes. How far is Noviomagus?'

'Three days away. Have you ever seen a Roman town?'

'No. Are there palaces?'

'I think for you there will be. And once there, I can purchase some clothes for you and a scabbard for your father's sword.'

Cormac looked up at the grey-haired traveller. 'Why are you being so kind to me?'

Revelation grinned. 'Perhaps it is because I dislike Agwaine. Then again, perhaps I like you. You choose.'

'Will you use me for sorcery? Will you betray me?'

Revelation stopped and laid his hand on Cormac's shoulder.

'In my life there are deeds never to be forgotten or forgiven. I have killed. I have lied. I have cheated. Once I even killed a friend. My word used to be a thing of iron . . . but I have broken even that. So how can I convince you I mean you no harm?'

'Just tell me,' said Cormac simply.

Revelation offered his hand and Cormac took it. 'I shall not betray you, for I am your friend.'

'Then that is good enough,' said the boy. 'When can I look like myself again?'

'As soon as we reach Noviomagus.'

'Is that your home?'

'No, but I am meeting someone there. I think you will like her.'

'A girl!' exclaimed Cormac, crestfallen.

'I am afraid so. But curb your disappointment until you have met her.'

Noviomagus was a thriving estuary town, growing rich on trade with the Sicambrians in Gaul, the Berbers of Africa and the merchants of Italia, Grae-cia, Thrace and Cappadocia. A mixture of older well-constructed Roman dwellings and inferior copies built of sandstone blocks and timber, Noviomagus contained more than six thousand inhabitants.

Cormac had never seen so many people gathered in one place as when he and Revelation threaded their way through cramped, choked streets, past bazaars and markets, shops and trading centres. To the lad the people were as splendid as kings in their cloaks of red, green, blue, orange and yellow. Glorious patterns of checks, stripes, swirls or pictures of hunting scenes were woven into tunics, shirts and capes. Cormac was dazzled by the opulence around him.

A full-breasted woman with dyed red hair approached Revelation. 'Come and relax with Helcia,' she whispered. 'Only ten denarii.'

'Thank you, I have no time.'

'A real man always has time,' she said, her smile fading.

'Then find a real man,' he told her, moving on. Three more young women propositioned the travellers and one even ran her hand down Cormac's tunic, causing him to leap back, red-faced and ashamed.

'Ignore them, Cormac,' said Revelation, stepping from the street into an alley so narrow that the two of them could not walk side by side.

'Where are we going?' asked the youth.

'We are here,' answered Revelation, pushing open a door and stepping into a long room furnished with a dozen bench-tables and chairs.

The air was close and there were no windows. The two travellers sat down at a corner table, ignoring the other five customers. A thin hatchet-faced man approached, wiping his hands on a greasy rag.

'You want food?'

'Ale,' said Revelation, 'and some fruit for the boy.'

'There are oranges just in, but they are expensive,' said the innkeeper. Revelation opened his hand to show a shining silver half-piece. 'Will that be all? I've got some steak ready.'

'Some for my companion, then.'

'What about a woman? We've three here better than anything you've ever seen; they'll make you feel like a king.'

'Perhaps later. Now bring the ale and the fruit.'

The man returned with a leather-covered tankard and a bowl bearing three fist-sized spheres of yellow gold.

'Rip off the skin and eat the segments inside,' advised Revelation.

Cormac did so and almost choked on the sweet, acid juice. He devoured the fruit and licked his fingers.

'Good?'

'Wonderful. Oranges! When I am a man, I shall plant my own and eat them every day.'

"Then you will have to live in Africa, across the sea, where the sun burns a man's skin blacker than darkness.'

'Would they not grow here?'

'The winter is too cold for them. What do you think of Noviomagus?'

'It's very noisy. I wouldn't like to live here. People keep touching me, and that is rude. And those women - if they are so hungry for love, why don't they marry?'

'A good question, Cormac. Many of them are married - and they are not hungry for love, they are hungry for money. In towns like this, money is the only god. Without it you are nothing.'

The steak was thin and tough, but to Cormac it tasted magnificent and he finished it at a speed that surprised the innkeeper.

'Was it all right, sir?'

'Wonderful!' Cormac replied.

'Good,' said the man, studying Cormac's face for any sign of sarcasm. 'Would you like some more fruit?'

'Oranges,' Cormac said, nodding.

A second bowl of fruit followed the first. The inn began to fill with customers and the two travellers sat in silence, listening to the babble of voices around them.

Most conversations concerned the wars and their subsequent - or imagined - effect on trade. Cormac learned that the Northern Trinovantes had rebelled against the High King. In the south-east, a force of Jutes had sailed to Londinium, sacking the town before being crushed by Uther's fleet in the Gallic waters. Three ships had been sunk, two more set ablaze.

'They don't seem to fear an attack here,' said Cormac, leaning forward.

Revelation nodded. 'That is because of the dark side of business, Cormac. Noviomagus, as I said, treats money like a god. Therefore they trade with anyone who will pay. They send iron goods from the Anderita mines, swords, axes, spears, arrow-heads to the Goths, the Jutes and the Angles. The weapons of war are purchased here.'

'And the King allows this?'

'There is little he can do to stop it and they also supply him with weapons and armour. The finest leather breastplates are made in Noviomagus, as well as swords of quality and bronze shields.'

'It is not right to trade with your enemies/

'Life is very simple when one is young.'

'How does the King survive, if even his own people support his enemies?'

'He survives because he is great. But think on this: these merchants supply the Jutes and earn great wealth. The King taxes them, which brings gold to his treasury. With this gold, he buys weapons to fight the Jutes. So, without the Jutes Uther would have less gold with which to oppose them.'

'But if the Jutes - and the others - didn't attack him, he would not need so much gold,' Cormac pointed out.

'Good! There is the seed of a debater within you. But if there were no enemies he would not need an army, and without an army we would not need a king. So, without the Jutes Uther would have no crown.'

'You are making my head spin. Can we go now? The air in here is beginning to smell.'

'A little while longer. We are meeting someone. You go outside - but do not wander far.'

Cormac eased his way out into the alley to see a young girl struggling with a burly warrior wearing a horned helm. On the ground beside them lay an elderly man with blood seeping from a wound to his head. The warrior pulled the struggling girl from her feet, his right hand clamped across her mouth.

'Stop!' shouted Cormac, dragging his sword from his belt. The warrior cursed, flinging the girl to the ground. Cormac rushed forward and, to his surprise and relief, the attacker turned and fled. The lad approached the girl, helping her to her feet. She was slim and dark-haired, her face oval, her skin ivory pale. Cormac swallowed hard and knelt beside the old man; he was clean-shaven and wearing a long blue toga. The boy lifted his wrist, feeling for a pulse.

'I am sorry, my lady, but he is dead.'

'Poor Cotta,' she whispered.

'Why were you attacked?'

'Is there an inn near here called The Sign of the Bull?' she asked, turning her head towards him. He looked then into her pale grey eyes and saw that she was blind.

'Yes, I will take you there,' he said, reaching out his hand. She did not move, so he took her arm.

'We cannot leave him like this,' she said. 'It is not right.'

'I have a friend nearby. He will know what to do.'

He led her into the inn, steering her carefully around the tables. The sudden noise of the interior alarmed her and she gripped his arm, but he patted her hand and led her to Revelation who stood swiftly.

'Anduine, where is Cotta?'

'Someone killed him, my lord.'

Revelation cursed, flicked the silver coin to the waiting innkeeper and then took the girl by the hand and led her outside. Cormac followed, a curious feeling of emptiness within him now that his charge was no longer in his care.

Outside, Revelation was kneeling by the old man. He closed the dead eyes and then stood. 'We must leave him here. Swiftly.'

'But Cotta’

'If he could speak, he would insist on it. What did you see, Cormac?'

'A foreign man with a horned helm was pulling her away. I ran at him, and he fled.'

'Bravely done, lad,' said Revelation. 'Thank the Source you had a need for fresh air.' Dipping into the pocket of his coarse woollen habit Revelation produced a small golden Stone which he held over the girl. Her dark hair lightened to corn yellow and her simple dress of pale green wool became tunic and trews of rust-brown and beige.

Three men entered the alley. Two wore bronze helms, decorated with ravens' wings; the third was clothed all in black and carried no weapons.

'She's gone,' said one of the men, running past Cormac. The other two entered the inn. Revelation led Anduine back along the alley as the two Vikings emerged from the building.

'You there! Wait!' came the shout.

Revelation turned. 'Put your arms about her and treat her like your lover,' he whispered to Cormac. Then, 'Can I assist you brothers? I have no money.'

'The boy was seen with a girl in a green dress. Where is she?'

'The blind wench? A man came for her. He seemed greatly agitated; I think that is his friend lying dead back there.'

Behind them Cormac leaned in to Anduine, resting his arms on her shoulders. He did not know what to do, but had seen the village boys with the maidens. Softly he kissed her cheek, shielding her face from the three armed men.

'We are dead men!' hissed one of the warriors.

'Be silent, Atha! Girl, come here,' ordered the leader.

Just then a group of militia-men rounded the alley, led by a middle-aged officer.

'What's going on here?' he asked, sending two of his men to check the body.

'The old man was robbed,' said Revelation. 'A terrible thing in such a civilised town.'

'Did you see the attack?'

'No,' said Revelation, 'I was at the inn having a meal with my son and his wife. Perhaps these fine fellows can help you?'

'Are you carrying money?' the officer asked.

'No,' said Revelation with a sad smile, opening his arms for the search, which was swift and thorough.

'Do you have friends in Noviomagus?'

'I fear not.'

'Work?'

'Not at present, but I am hopeful.'

'Melvar!' called the officer and a young soldier ran up. 'Escort these . . . travellers from the town. I am sorry, but no one may stay who does not have means of support.'

'I understand,' said Revelation, taking Anduine by the arm and leading her from the alley. She stumbled and almost fell and the black-clad Viking leader cursed loudly. 'Blind! It's her!' He tried to follow, but the officer barred his way.

'Just a moment, sir. There are a few questions.'

'We are merchants from Raetia - I have documents.'

'Then let me see them, sir.'

Beyond the alley, the soldier Melvar led the trio to the western edge of Noviomagus. 'You might be able to get work on some of the farms north of here,' he said. 'Otherwise I'd suggest Venta.'

'Thank you,' said Revelation. 'You have been most kind.'

'What is happening?' asked Cormac when the officer had gone. 'Who were those warriors?'

'Wotan's Hunters - and they are seeking Anduine.'

'Why?'

'She is his Bride and he wants her.'

'But he is a god . . . isn't he?'

'He is a devil, Cormac - and he must not have her. Now let us begone, for the hunt has just begun.'

'Can you not work more magic?'

Revelation smiled. 'Yes, but now is not the time. There is a Circle of standing stones near here. We must reach them by nightfall and then . . . then you will need more courage than most men possess.'

'Why?' asked Cormac.

The demons are gathering,' said Revelation.

The stones formed a Circle some sixty feet across, around the flat-topped crest of a hill eight miles from Noviomagus. Cormac led the weary Anduine to the centre of the hill, where he spread his blanket and sat beside her. The blind girl had borne the journey well, holding close to Cormac who steered her carefully away from jutting tree-roots and rocks.

Revelation had moved ever further ahead and when the tired youngsters reached the hill he was kneeling by an old alter stone, carefully notching his staff. Cormac approached him, but he waved the boy away, then began to measure the distance from the altar to the first standing stone - a massive grey-black monolith twice as tall as himself. Cormac returned to Anduine, gave her some water and wandered to the other side of the Circle. The huge stones were more jagged here and one of them had fallen, the base cracked like a rotten tooth. Cormac knelt beside it. Carved into the stone was a heart bearing letters in Latin. The boy could not read Latin, but he had seen such inscriptions before. Two lovers had sat here, looking to the future with hope and joy. There were other carvings, some recent, and Cormac wished he could read them.

'Where is Revelation?' asked Anduine. Cormac rose and, taking her hand, led her to the fallen stone where they sat in the fading sunshine.

'He is close, marking the ground with chalk and measuring the distance between the stones.'

'He is creating a spirit fortress,' said Anduine, 'sealing the Circle.' 'Will it keep the demons out?' 'It depends how much magic he holds. When he came to see me in Austrasie his Power-Stone was almost finished.' 'Power-Stone?'

'They are called Sipstrassi. All the Lords carry them; my grandfather had three.'

Cormac said nothing but watched as Revelation continued his esoteric work with the chalk, joining an apparently random series of lines, half-circles and six-sided stars.

'Why are they hunting you?' he asked Anduine. 'There must be other brides less troublesome?'

She smiled and took his hand. 'You were born in a cave and your life has been very sad. Your great friend was slain and your sorrow is as deep as the sea. You are strong, both in the body and the soul, and there is a small wound - like a gash - on your right arm, where you fell while being chased by the hunters.' Reaching out, she took his right hand, her fingers sliding softly along the skin of his arm until she reached the graze. 'And now,' she said, It is gone.'

He glanced down. All signs of the tear in the skin had vanished.

'You too are a sorceress?'

'And that is why they want me. They killed my father, but Cotta and the Lord Revelation rescued me. They thought I would be safe in Britannia, but there is no safe place. The Gates are open.'

Revelation joined them, his face streaked with sweat and dust, his grey eyes showing his fatigue. "The power of the Stone is used up,' he said. 'Now we wait.'