Veneficus: Stones of the Chosen (19 page)

A matter of days
, she thought.
It’s only twenty-one days until the long magus has to attend the annual Equinoctial Festival of the Dead, at which, one way or another, he will be introducing her as his replacement. The boy must be accounted for before then.

Unseen and undetected, Merlin and the boy watched all this from high in the castle turret. The long magus had learned some interesting facts from the episode about the width of the killing arc the ravening watcher covered around the two women by its destruction of the carriage-bound mud ball, and just how weakened Elelendise was by maintaining the watcher’s presence by her failure to immediately detect the auras that indicated the urchins were created by Merlin, and destroy the other ball before it hit Penda.

“A couple of plain old mud balls.” Merlin chuckled. “Confounding all the runic earthshine of a holder of the enchantments. Nature-confounding phenomena through the simple acts of creativity and timing, eh, skirmisher?”

The boy remained silent, his thoughts elsewhere.

It had also been the first time that either of them had seen Penda in all his warlike glory. But for Twilight one thing eclipsed all the other sights and, strangely, set his heart beating furiously with an emotion he couldn’t explain.

The sight of Penda’s daughter, the Princess Rawnie.

When Zeus created the venefical system ten thousand years ago, he did so for two reasons. Firstly, the gods of the Presidium did not like their existence blighted by scenes of earthly death and suffering; therefore, the sarcophagal mists were created as a final but hidden resting place for cowerers - and having created the mists, someone had to maintain and police them - therefore the resident veneficus.

Secondly, it was felt that having resident venefici with the benefit of the enchantments at their fingertips, the earth and its myriad, ever-present squabbles between good and evil would be counterbalanced by a little local do-good sorcery and evenhandedness.

Saving the gods the bothersome task of continuous arbitration.

“It is an absolute truth,” said Merlin, putting his arm around Twilight’s shoulder, “that the correct use of the enchantments changes the ways of the world for the better. The difficulty is that of perspective. The wolf mistress is convinced that her perspective - that of domination and suppression of others, both opposing soldiers in battle and innocent people - is the right way. We, on the other hand, are equally convinced that to repel her is correct. We are all prisoners of our own perspective. The difficulty I have is that it took me fifty years to move from her perspective to the one I hold now - albeit slaughter of innocents never played any part in my intentions. Nonetheless, domination of others by force of arms was certainly my intention with Arthur. Somehow, I have to get a perspective on life that took me fifty years to understand into your belief system immediately.”

“There is no need,” said the boy simply. “It cannot be unhappened. I know where it all fits, and I believe I have the right perspective on matters as they stand now. I also understand how you were carried away by the fuss that surrounded the whole
Dux Bellorum
thing.”

The long magus looked down at him for a long moment. The boy returned his stare fearlessly.

“By the Wall of Severus, I have no idea where your levelheadedness comes from. It’s remarkable for one of only thirteen winters, but I believe you do understand. There is great hope in that, young skirmisher, great hope.”

They fell silent for a while before Merlin suddenly spoke again.

“As an aid to our understanding of her perspective, what do you think of the idea that we migrate to the north for a couple of days to see what we can find out about her upbringing and training with her departed veneficus Mael?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” replied the boy immediately. “Can we leave Summer Land to Penda and the wolf-woman for that long? Will our birds be safe?”

The long magus pondered for a few moments.

“I think so. Penda needs time to settle his men into and around the castle and reacquaint himself with his wife and daughter. We can leave a couple of diversions to make the repellent one think we’re still around. As for the birds, we’ll ensure that they all lie low well outside the Summer Land area.”

“Have you ever been to the north of Britain?” asked Twilight.

“No, not the far north, but I have heard of a person and place there to start our search.”

“Who, where?”

“His name is Aidan. He is a Christian monk at an island monastery called Lindisfarne in the region of Northumbria, which is where Penda began his crusade. I mentioned Lindisfarne to you before. It’s where that unfortunate old snake man Bovey came from.”

“Can I commune with my mother before we go?”

The long magus raised a bushy silver eyebrow, his glowing eyes receding. “You have the ability. Have you already done so using mind-speech?”

“Once, just before you spirited her and my brothers and sisters away. It just happened without warning. Suddenly we were exchanging thoughts. I do not know how or what caused it to happen or where you have hidden them.”

“As with many other matters venefical I kept it from you as a protection. At the time I thought it best in case the wolf-woman got her claws into you if we were separated, and forced you to reveal their whereabouts. She would destroy them.”

The boy looked at him levelly. “She will only ever get from me what I choose to tell her in order to bring about her downfall.”

“Then I will tell you where they are.”

The old wizard looked to the horizon for a long moment as if visiting his past before continuing.

“I have made a number of references to Guinevere, the bride of Arthur …”

“They are with Guinevere, the beautiful wife of Arthur!” the boy burst in, unable to contain himself.

Merlin held his hand up before continuing.

“When Arthur was wounded in the battle against Mordred, Guinevere took him to the Isle of Avalon in order that he might recover from his wounds. But he did not recover and died there, and as you know, his soul was transported to the mists of the cowering masses. Guinevere was so broken-hearted and full of contrition - Mordred, who also died at the same time, had wanted her as well, and she had certainly not spurned his advances; indeed, some say she had led him on - that she vowed to stay on Avalon for the rest of her life as penitence. That she has done. Well into eighty winters now, her legendary beauty has faded somewhat, but she is still an active and passionate woman.”

“Have you seen her recently?”

“I pay her a social call every so often. She is the only one left from those days I have stayed in touch with.”

“Are my mother and brothers and sisters safe with her?”

“I would say so, along with the others on the island.”

“What others?”

Merlin took a deep breath before answering.

“Guinevere decided to serve her penitence by looking after the sick for the rest of her life, and that she has done. She has turned the island into a home to over one hundred very sick

people.”

“How sick?”

“Very, I’m afraid. Incurable. They are lepers … the famous Isle of Avalon is now a leper colony.”

It took Merlin and the boy a half of one day to make the transformations necessary to get to Lindisfarne. The long magus gave in to Twilight’s pleas to be allowed to execute the transformations himself, and three times they ended up in the wrong place. Eventually the frustrated Twilight turned to his mentor for help. In order to get their positioning back on track the long magus asked Twilight to reverse the procedures to get them back to Summer Land and then he would start again. By midday they stood on the seashore at Sandham Cove, gazing out at the mighty monastery on Lindisfarne Island. The tide was in and the causeway to the island was impassable, and so they sat down on a rock to wait.

Twilight had never seen the sea before and was full of questions. After lengthy explanations and much drawing in the wet sand, the boy was satisfied. After a few minutes’ silence he found another subject for his curiosity.

“Are there pica and falcons here?”

“Yes, they are spread throughout the land.”

“Are we their liege-lords as well?”

“Of course, it’s universal, applies to the species wherever they are. If we required their help we could call upon the local population, and they would flock to us immediately and pledge their entire being to our command as our Wessex birds do.”

“Should we let them know we are here?”

“If we need them, then yes. In the meantime, we’ll leave them in peace.”

Slowly the causeway revealed itself as the tide began to turn and then recede. After a couple of hours they could see the rocky path on the causeway stretching all the way to the island, and began to walk carefully along its wet, slippery surface.

They were not alone. Three monks had waited further along the shore and now followed them along the causeway toward the towering edifice on the island. As the monks drew abreast they pulled off their hoods, made the sign of the cross, and greeted them cheerily. Explaining that they were from Ireland and had taken many weeks to make the pilgrimage, they were very excited to have arrived finally at their destination, which they referred to as the Shrine Aidan. Waving them through, Merlin and the boy followed behind.

“Have they come further than we have?” asked Twilight.

“About the same distance. However, their journey included the crossing of a mighty sea.”

“Walking wears me out. Thank goodness the enchantments allow us to transform directly to places … sometimes,” said Twilight cheekily.

“You will see and understand far more by walking.” The long magus chuckled.

“This Aidan,” asked the boy after a while. “Where is he from?”

“He is, as far as I know, a Christian pioneer, also from Ireland. I think he established this place.”

They passed through the open gates of the monastery and into a courtyard. Over in one corner the three Irish monks were on their knees in front of a stone statue being led in prayer by one of the resident monks.

A young monk in a rough woven brown cassock approached them with his hands clasped together in front of his chest in an attitude of prayer.

“Welcome, brethren,” he said deferentially. “You have journeyed far?”

“We come from Wessex for an audience with Aidan,” replied Merlin.

“From Wessex? I have heard of this land. Full of heretics and pagans, I believe. I’m afraid his holiness does not receive guests. He has many other important duties to attend to. I will accompany you in prayer to sanctify and give praise for your long and brave pilgrimage, and give you bread for the return journey.”

The long magus snorted. “You most certainly will not. Kindly tell his holiness Aidan that the Wessex veneficus Merlin and his tyro Twilight - a couple of agnostic heretics and pagans of the first persuasion - await the pleasure of his company. Otherwise, I will turn all his resident monks in this monastery into goats!”

He flashed his eyes in the direction of the resident monk and the three kneeling Irish pilgrims. Much to the surprise of the Irish, the resident monk leading them in prayer turned into a goat and began to bleat plaintively.

Merlin turned his iridescent green gaze to the young monk in front of them, who gazed back at them in sheer stupefaction before dropping to his knees and pressing his forehead to the ground in some sort of terrified homage.

The long magus and Twilight helped him gently back to his feet. Merlin nodded again in the direction of the goat and pilgrims, and all was as was before with the resident monk once again leading them, albeit somewhat shakily and with frequent mystified glances at the long magus. The young monk came to his senses and began to babble wildly as he turned and stumbled toward a large door on the other side of the courtyard.

“That wasn’t a very nice thing to do,” scolded Twilight. “You’ve frightened the life out of him and probably ruined his future as a Christian monk.”

Merlin scowled.

“Would that I could ruin a few more such futures. They’re of more use as goats.”

A small, round man wearing a tall, pointed hat, a floor-length brown tunic, and a beaming smile emerged from the door the terrified monk had stumbled through.

“Turning my brothers into goats, eh?” He laughed loudly, approaching them. “There is only one man I have heard of from Wessex who is capable and capricious enough to perform such a feat. The mighty wizard himself. You must be Merlin … the long magus?”

The old sorcerer bowed.

“Vive, vale,
Aidan.”

The small monk bowed in return.

“Sit tibi terra levis magna veneficus.”

The long magus indicated the boy at his side.

“Twilight, my tyro veneficus.”

The little round monk, who was about the same height as the boy, looked him in the eye, smiled, and placed a gentle, heavily ringed right hand on his shoulder.

“I hope he is teaching you more important uses for the great gifts you bear other than that he has just demonstrated on my poor monk, my young tyro.”