A Kingdom Falls (The Mancer Trilogy Book 1) (15 page)

“Ah, they do say purity is next to godliness.”

“They do.”

“I shall have a water, too.”

“A large one?”

“As always.”

“Very good, your Grace.”  With that, Deacon Brown removed himself from the room to get the drinks.

“Please sit, Lady Rothgal-Ackroyd and Confessor Vember,” insisted Peak.

“Thank you, your Grace,” said both his guests.

“Now, how may I help you?”

“I fear for the moral, spiritual, and physical safety of the people of Deep Lake and the Twin Kingdoms, your Grace,” Amanda Rothgal-Ackroyd stated.

“That is very charitable of you, Lady Rothgal-Ackroyd.”

“That deviant-loving witch Queen of ours is draining the very life blood of the kingdom to feed her thrice-damned lackeys.  She has raised taxes so high that parents cannot feed their children, all under the pretence that the Red Bank is upping its demands for repayment of debts.”  Amanda closed her eyes and calmed herself before continuing, “This cannot go on much longer, your Grace.  I have prayed for guidance from our Lord and he has sent me a sign.”

“Has he now?”  Archbishop Peak steepled his fingers as he studied Amanda.

“He has,” confirmed Confessor Vember.

At that moment, Deacon Brown re-entered the room carrying a tray containing the drinks, which he placed down on a small table next to the window.  “Water for you, Mistress Rothgal-Ackroyd.”

“Thank you.”

“And one for you, Confessor.”

“My thanks, Deacon.”

“And, of course, a large double water for you, your Grace.”

“Is it pure water, Brown?”

“Yes, your Grace; it’s a pure straight double water,” said the Deacon with a perfectly straight face.

Frances Peak took an experimental sip.  His eyes widened slightly.  “Yes, this is extremely pure... water.”

“Just as your Grace requested.”

Catching a questioning look from Amanda Rothgal-Ackroyd, Archbishop Peak smiled.  “I once drank some contaminated water that made me extremely ill.  I now insist on only the purest water.”

“Ah,” said Amanda, with a knowing nod.

“Anyway, enough about water,” the Archbishop waved his hand, dismissively.  “You were talking about a sign from our Lord, were you not?”

“Yes, Archbishop, I was.”

“Then please, continue?”

“I started praying at dawn three days ago in my private chapel when I began to notice a strange darkness surrounding the building.”

“A strange darkness?” queried Peak.

“Yes, a strange darkness.  It felt heavy, dangerous, and radiated evil.”

“Radiated evil.”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“Mmmm, please, go on.”

“I started to pray to our Lord for salvation and protection against this evil presence.  As I prayed, I could hear whispered words – words of terrible temptation and even worse horrors.”  Amanda took a quick swallow of water before continuing, “Those awful words still haunt me, and it is only through the strength of our Lord that I find the strength to defeat them.  Archbishop, be glad that you will never know what was said.  I will only say that the violence and debauchery were extreme.”  Lady Rothgal-Ackroyd closed her eyes and placed her hand on her breast.

“My dear lady, are you ok?” asked a concerned Deacon.

Amanda opened her eyes and waved away the Deacon’s concerns “Though I am a weak woman, I am protected by our Lord.  I am well, thank you for your concern.”

“Are you well enough to continue?” asked Archbishop Peak.

“I am, your Grace.  So there I was, protected by the holiness of my shire, whilst outside, whispers from the midnight black...

“What did you say?” demanded Peak.

“I said I was protected...” began a shocked Amanda.

“No, not that – the end bit.”

“The midnight black.”

Archbishop Peak looked over to Deacon Brown, who nodded in answer to his silent question.

“Your Grace?” confessor Vember asked.  “Is there something wrong?”

Peak turned his attention to Vember.  “Not at all.”  Looking at Amanda, Peak said, “Please, continue.”

“Yes, your Grace.  I prayed to our Lord harder and more urgently than I had at any time in the past, whilst the midnight black alternated between whispering temptation and violence.  It was then it made its mistake, your Grace.”

“Its mistake?”

“Yes, its mistake.  It told me of certain plans and schemes.  Then after it had divulged all that it knew, a beam of pure sunlight fell upon my sanctuary, and with a hideous scream, the blackness vanished and daylight returned.  Our Lord had answered my prayers and saved me from evil.”  Amanda’s eyes lit up with fanatical devotion.  “Our Lord saved me.”

“And for that, we are eternally grateful,” appeased Archbishop Peak.  Amanda bowed her head.

“Now tell me, Lady Rothgal-Ackroyd, what did this monster reveal?”
Amanda raised her head.  “He promised me eternal youth, if only I would submit to him like Queen Rebecca Rothgal.”

Archbishop Peak and Deacon Brown both raised their eyebrows in shock.

“He said,” continued Amanda, “that the Queen and her thrice-damned lapdog Shadow Killer were planning a lavish party soon in which they would drink the blood of babies to seal the pact they had with him, and if I was to go, I would experience sexual acts beyond my wildest dreams.”  Amanda Rothgal-Ackroyd blushed heavily.  “What this vile creature showed me was beyond anything a gentle woman should know.  I will say no more on the matter.”

“And we shall not press you, dear lady,” stated Peak.

“Thank you, your Grace.”

“As you can imagine, my lady was deeply traumatised by the whole situation,” said Confessor Vember.  “However, from this awful position she has risen and, if that foul creature’s intention was to destroy the will of my lady, then he has badly underestimated her.  Her will has only grown stronger...”

“Thank you, Confessor, for your supporting words,” interrupted Lady Rothgal-Ackroyd by placing her hand lightly on the confessor’s leg.  Amanda took a deep breath and then a long drink from her glass before continuing, “The people need to be freed from this tyranny.  They need guidance from the Church to bring them back...”

“What sort of guidance?” asked Deacon Brown, carefully.

“Moral, spiritual, and, of course, in piety.”  Deacon Brown nodded in silent agreement as Amanda continued, “The people of the Twin Kingdoms demand freedom from the yoke of an oppressive reign, to which our current Queen has shackled them.  That self-centred tyrant of a woman daily grinds her people into poverty whilst giving every luxury to those deviant werewolves, devils, and spirits that command her ear, whispering messages of damnation and debauchery.  She must be stopped.  She must be removed!”

Deacon Brown stole a glance at Archbishop Peak and raised his eyebrows.  The Archbishop gave a small nod before returning to Amanda.  “Mistress Rothgal-Ackroyd, with whom do we replace the wicked Queen?”

Amanda squared her shoulders and looked the Archbishop in the eye.  “If it is the will of our Lord, then myself.  I am, after all, an heir to the throne.”

“As is Reif Rothgal,” countered Deacon Brown.

“That poor excuse of a man!”  Amanda eyes flared with disgust.  “He is almost as bad as the Queen, with his debauchery and his support of the thrice-damned Craktoneons.  No, I am the only one that can sit on the throne and save this kingdom, with the help of our Lord and his Church, of course.”

“Of course,” acknowledged Archbishop Peak, as he leaned forward slightly.  “The Church, as you know, has taken a very keen interest in you, Amanda, and has done its best to provide you with the highest spiritual and moral guidance possible.”

“And for that, I am eternally grateful, Archbishop.”

“It will be of no surprise to you that the Church, too, fears for the safety of its flock within the Twin Kingdoms, as we have discussed this matter a number of times.”

“I remember the conversations well, your Grace.”

“However, there must be discussion and debate.”

“Your Grace...”

“No, Lady Rothgal-Ackroyd, if we are to do this, then we must do it correctly.”

“Yes, your Grace.”  Amanda bowed her head, submissively.

“Now go to your estate.  Pray, prepare, and await our call.”

“Yes, your Grace,” said Amanda, standing.  “Come, Confessor Vember.”

“Your Grace,” said Vember with a slight bow, before following his mistress out of the room.

Archbishop Frances Peak waited for his two guests to leave before saying, “Well?”

“Sorry, Archbishop, I could not find the tonic water.”

“You had me drinking straight gin in front of little Miss-Prim-and-Proper.”

“It was that or water, your Grace.”

“Mmm... that is true.  Good choice, Brown.”

“Thank you, your Grace.”

“Now onto heavier matters.”

“The overthrowing of a queen and replacing her with a woman more accepting of the Church.”

“Exactly, Brown, exactly.  What did you make of her story?”

“We know that Queen Rothgal does not drink the blood of babies.  The only demons she consorts with are werewolves and that is mainly restricted to Shadow Killer, who is but a shadow of his former self, excuse the pun.”

“Exactly,” agreed Frances as he opened a drawer in his desk.  He removed a bottle of brandy and a glass.  “What did you make of the ‘midnight black’?”

“A direct reference to the Midnight Man.”

“That is what I thought, which leads us to...”
“The Mancer Prophecy,” finished Brown.

“Precisely.”

“It s not a prophecy that bodes well for us.” 

Archbishop Peak poured himself a large glass of brandy.  “There is a rumour that there is a final missing verse – a rumour that no one has ever managed to prove,” he said dismissively and took a large gulp from his glass.  “Ah, that’s better.”

“The Mancer Prophecy is quite depressing, your Grace.”

“All prophecies are depressing in one way or another, as they mostly all have to do with the world ending or an evil being killing everything.”

“Yes, but normally they also have a hero who can save the world.  Maybe that’s the rumoured missing verse!”

“True, true,” agreed Peak, before he continued with a light laugh.  “Maybe, because the hero is just as dark and damaged as the Midnight Man, no one will want to read about him.”  Peak drained his glass and moved to refill it.

“Very droll, your Grace.”

“I thought it rather good – a dark hero to fight a dark villain.”

“Mmm. Shall we get back to business?”

“Ah, yes; we need to call a full meeting of the senior members of the Church.”

“So we are really going to do it?”

“Support Lady Rothgal-Ackroyd?  Yes, we are.”

“That will mean...”

“That will mean that we, the Church, will be in the best position to look after its flock when the Midnight Man arrives.”

“I see... your Grace,” Brown said slowly, as he carefully chose his words.  “And what about Shadow Killer?”

“His glory days are well behind him.  Also, the Church has ways of dealing with such creatures as him.”  Deacon Brown raised a questioning eyebrow.  “You may be my private secretary, Brown, but there are still some secrets that you do not know.”

“Yes, your Grace,” Brown said through a tight smile.  “So you are taking this Midnight Man Prophecy seriously, then?

“Yes, I am.”  Peak rubbed his hand thoughtfully over his jaw.  “I remember the Midnight Man the first time round.”

“Yes, I remember reading the reports of what happened in the town of Hope in the Granite Mountains – the mutilation and murder of the two children.”

“That was nothing, Brown.”  Peak emptied his glass and quickly refilled it.  “I read the hidden reports, the reports of what he did when he left the Granite Mountains.”  A look of fear entered Archbishop Peak’s eyes.  ”I should fear nothing, as I have our Lord by my side, but I will tell you this, Brown: I fear the return of the Midnight Man and his accursed Brethren of the Night, and I will do anything in my power to stop them, including deposing a queen from her throne.”

“Were they that bad, your Grace?” asked a stunned Deacon Brown.

Peak remained still and silent for a moment before replying with a single word, “Worse.”

***

Nearing sunset of the next day

Maria Clough stood in the well-furnished drawing room of Charles and Beth Rothgal, parents of Reif Rothgal, looking out the window as the last rays of sun illuminated an immaculate garden.  Nearby, her bodyguard stood silent and still.  Maria did not turn round as she heard the door open.  Instead, she asked, “Those wonderful yellow roses – what are they called?”