Sword Saint Book Two Incomplete Chapter 13 Aftermath
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Roxanne and I sat at the same table as Oonagh was brought into the room, looking distinctly smugger than she did the last time.
“So, nemesis, it appears you want what I may be able to supply?” she asked with a cold smile.
“There are certain coincidences in the tale that merit an investigation. Though nothing we can see would indicate how you would know of such a ‘deceitful weapon’ and its effectiveness against a Vultoqi patripure,” I replied.
“Well, you’ll never know unless you accede to my ... request,” she replied in cool tones.
The sheet of paper I slid across the desk contained the elements of the Calvagh Verenestra demanded of Oonagh in order to allow her access to Jingol.
“You swear that before the Queen, or there is no deal,” Roxanne stated. “Before you object, you should bear in mind that we have a method to read your mind anyway, so a rejection will not stop us finding out what you know.”
“Do not lie to me. There is no means to break my shield,” Oonagh snorted.
“We do not lie. You either voluntarily accept those terms or we arrange to take what you know anyway,” I replied. “It is only honour alone that prevented us from simply taking what we want.”
For a few seconds, Oonagh simply glared at me as I sat there in seeming indifference, before her eyes dropped to the sheet of paper and she read the terms.
“Why this, ‘escorted at all times’?” she asked.
“A rebel group called the Sons of Druchii consider you the architect of their downfall. You may be in danger from them,” Roxanne replied with a shrug.
“I doubt they’d dare.”
“They’re Dökkálfar. Believe me, if they wanted to take you out, they have the skill set to do it,” I replied.
“Perhaps,” Oonagh acceded. “Renounce any claim to the throne?”
“You lost. Live with it,” Roxanne smiled smugly.
“Hmm, and this, ‘remove myself from any interference in politics, directly or indirectly’?”
“Just in case you wish to set up a puppet and be the power behind the throne,” I replied with a grin.
“And if I swear this binding oath in front of Verenestra, I get to walk freely on Jingol?”
“Yes. You’ll note Verenestra does not require you to swear allegiance to House Skarlett, just to behave yourself here,” Roxanne replied.
“I do not like these terms!” Oonagh almost spat out.
“We don’t expect you to like them; just obey them via a Calvagh, an unbreakable oath,” I replied.
“I do not like them, but yes, I will sign and take the Calvagh in front of the woman who took my throne,” Oonagh replied bitterly.
“Good, now your information, please,” Roxanne demanded.
“Not until I have the freedom of Jingol.”
“Follow me,” Roxanne replied and stood, then walked through the door I held open for her, out into the courtyard, followed a few seconds later by a confused looking Oonagh.
Oonagh then pulled up short as she faced almost the whole royal court who were standing facing her. Verenestra stood in the centre, wearing full Mage style armour except for the hooded helm, along with William and Arwen who flanked her wearing the same style armour. Other witnesses were also present, amongst them Taqual and Usanna along with their herald Quruth. I also recognised Lord Ginfio along with his exiled wife Ilvana, who had clearly been given special permission to attend. It was also notable that present were a small group of prisoners from the main Arrondistrium and who were clearly the traitors rounded up by the Dökkálfar after the Akmonii plot.
“Oonagh, you have agreed to swear the Calvagh, the ever-binding oath, with regards to permitting you greater freedom on Jingol and to aid the Alliance of civilised Earths in their fight against the Vultoqi,” Verenestra stated. “Will you now do so?”
“I ... will,” Oonagh replied, stumbling over her words slightly in the glare of a public swearing.
“Step forward and kneel and say the words of binding, infuse them with your will and it shall be done.”
I also stepped forward at that time and used my mind to release the magic prevention cuffs on Oonagh’s wrists, before indicating to her to step forward.
Head held high, Oonagh then moved to the precise place the ceremony required of her to kneel and got down on one knee. She then placed her hand on a stone tablet inscribed with the binding words of the agreement and infused it with her quantum signature. This was then checked first by Talusi, Verenestra’s herald, and then Verenestra herself, followed by the court while the prisoners were led through a secure portal back to the main Arrondistrium.
“You may rise,” Verenestra stated to Oonagh, before leading the court away through the main gate with no other words, nor even a sign of recognition from the observers.
“Let’s talk,” I said to a clearly upset Oonagh.
Unlike before, Roxanne and I led Oonagh to a small table in the grounds where we could talk in the warm sunshine in the protected courtyard.
“Not one,” she finally said in quiet tones. “Not one would barely give me a glance, never mind show recognition.”
“What did you expect? You were mostly responsible for throwing away the lives of their partners, sons and daughters by fighting a by far superior enemy,” I shrugged.
“I did not deem you superior,” she snarled back, a little of the old Oonagh returning.
“Aye, we know. You did not even choose to study us, merely presumed we were still prey,” Roxanne replied indifferently.
“True,” she answered as her shoulders slumped again. “I presumed you to be as the Eminrephaimanakim, easily swayed and led like lambs to the slaughter.”
“So, what can you tell us of the deceitful weapon?” I asked, seeing no point in wallowing in the past.
“Nhuvla, who wrote the book, was a minor scion of House Oddrassi. After writing it he withdrew to a reclusive society and went into a series of trances in which he wrote several pages of what was thought to be garbage, if reminiscent of some form of language which the Fae at the time couldn’t read or understand. However, when the torment began he returned to Oddrassi and took up a place as an artisan on the tower, though was forced to change his name to avoid bringing opprobrium to the family who were ashamed of his ditties and children’s tales. If you look up the records of those who travelled, you’ll find the name Valok. He was Nhuvla. He married into House Teighan after courting the youngest daughter of that line. Both he and his wife died in the civil war. His works though were buried with his dust and were preserved by being sealed in warded lead. The reason I believe you should read them and find what the weapon is, is that at the time no one knew what they meant, however a glance at them long ago has allowed me to reason that they were written in a language you Mages use, the roman script, I believe you call it.”
“Written in Latin?” I asked, astonished.
“That I do not know, just the characters used were of that style.”
“Interesting,” Roxanne mused out loud.
“The other thing we’re interested in is the spell you used to entrap the Eminrephaimanakim in the Outer Realms,” I added.
“You do not have the nerve to try such, so I believe I’ll tell you as it requires a life force sacrifice of over a hundred thousand souls, as I believe you call that energy,” the old Oonagh sneered, before giving us an extremely powerful and complex spell. “Nor do I believe that the prey you represent have the ability to reconstitute yourselves should you try ... and most likely fail.”
“You’d be surprised,” I replied. “Still you must be used to that with us,” I added as an extra barb.
“I doubt it.”
“Thank you for the information. We’ll leave you to your guardian and your freedom,” I finally said, once it became clear Oonagh had nothing more to say.
“Guardian?” Oonagh asked, looking around.
There was a brief flicker as a Drow female uncloaked and recloaked.
“Enjoy your freedom,” Roxanne added as we stood and left.
“House Teighan?” Verenestra queried. “That line no longer exists; they were extirpated during the liberation of Tír na nÓg, the last of the line dying at the battle of the forts.”
“So they won’t mind us digging up their dust?” Roxanne asked with a quirky grin.
“I doubt they would anyway, it’s not a big thing with Fae, dead being dead to us.”
“So, where would this dust be held?”
“The family vault probably; their lands were in the northern part of what you’d call Spain.”
“Got a location reference for us, Verry?” I asked politely.
“Yes,” she replied, giving us the mental co-ordinates.
“Could I come?” Arwen asked.
“Aye, why not? Chances are you’ll spot anything hidden quicker than us,” Roxanne replied, seeing Verenestra’s nod.
“Thank you. I’m finished with Artello now,” Arwen replied with a sunny grin, making her mother flinch slightly.
“Find out what you wanted to know?” I asked.
“Yes. I helped him refine it better with the aid of my sister Seers.”
“You take such risks, little princess.”
“It was necessary to know if a Fae could still function ... adequately whilst having our power limited,” she replied, clearly not telling us everything, but then again, Seers rarely do as they follow a different set of rules at times.
The region of Tír na nÓg, roughly equating to Catalonia on our Earth, was, as you’d expect, dry and dusty, though without the extensive erosion that human habitation had done to our region as the Fae simply did not have anything like our numbers. The permanent dwelling place of House Teighan stood out in stark contrast to the landscape, showing a style of architecture that was quite alien to humanity and also to the graceful splendour of Keldravan.
“Ugly,” Roxanne murmured, confirming my suspicion that it wasn’t just me.
“Also still occupied,” I added, getting a nod from Arwen who was also scanning.
“Probably former servitors with nowhere else to go,” she posited. “The lands are held by the crown until mother decides who’s earned a reward. The present occupants get a small stipend to keep the place in relatively good condition.”
“So they’re unlikely to cause trouble?” Roxanne asked.
“Unlikely, though they may be somewhat defensive,” Arwen replied as we reached the ward border and announced our presence.
Within a minute we were approached by a poorly dressed if typically old school arrogant Fae.
“We seek entry to the Teighan estate by royal warrant,” Roxanne stated.
“You are not Sidhe. You are prey. Your words and warrant are worthless. Go away or face the consequences of trespass,” he sneered.
“Guess someone didn’t get the memo that Oonagh lost the war and that the word Sidhe is seen as a slur,” I chuckled aside.
“Nor that humanity are no longer prey,” Roxanne agreed.
“I am Arwen Skarlett! Declared Cirsan by acclaim and heir designate to the throne! You will drop the wards and you will co-operate,” Arwen stated very clearly, her eyes almost blazing with her anger.
The servitor stepped back in shock, before bowing in fright and dropping the guarding ward to the estate.
Rowan
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