Crimes Against Magic (24 page)

 Thomas had found an apple tree not too far away, and picked a few of the ripe green fruits, throwing me one as he went to make sure Ivy was alright. I watched him behave like a parent around her, even though he was at most seven or eight years older. The idea of never seeing his family again must have torn him up inside. 

I felt guilty for not asking about his family, for only thinking of finding Ivy and stopping those who attacked Soissons. Sometimes I got so used to not answering questions about my life, or forming lies about it, that I forget about asking others.

Ivy and Thomas sat beside one another and spoke for a while. I was too far away to hear normally, although I could have used a gust of wind to bring the words to me. Instead I dozed on the soft grass. I always tried to get sleep where possible, and being half asleep was better than none at all. 

Ivy and Thomas' approaching footsteps woke me. I opened my eyes as the young girl sat beside me and took my hand in hers. 

"There was so much pain in your past."

"Keep it there," I said coolly, unwilling to get into a conversation regarding whatever she'd gleamed from her vision.

"She betrayed you," she continued unabated. "The woman you loved betrayed you for her ideals. And Mordred was there."

I sat bolt upright, jerking my hand from Ivy's. "Drop it."

"But I know now why you hate him."

I shook my head. "You have no idea why I hate him. What did you see? Me semi-conscious on the floor, Mordred standing over me? Maybe Morgan was with him."

"You and the woman, Morgan, were in a room, your friend burst in. Arthur. He demanded an explanation. You fought—you were angry, resentful of how he spoke to the woman. It spilled outside, and he was ambushed. Mordred stabbed him with a sword of some type. When you went to stop him, the woman hit you from behind with powerful magic."

I rubbed my eyes. I really didn't want to relive this. "Why are you telling me this? I was there."

"I wanted you to know that I understand why you hate him. But I hate him too."

I stood with the intent of walking off. I managed a few paces when I turned back to Ivy. "He has that effect on people."

"I was born in a cage, inside what can only be described as a prison, just outside Orleans," she said. 

I froze mid-step, my intention of leaving suddenly evaporated. 

"It's where I lived until I was twelve. Then Mordred took me to see the King of France, and then onto England. Both times, my job was to do readings of people's future. Of not only the king but of anyone Mordred deemed worthy of trying to impress, or needed to blackmail and threaten. The things some of these
men
did made me sick, but I was to show no feeling. Or I was punished. 

"Mordred's method of punishing me depended on how creative he felt. Sometimes he would urinate in my food in front of me and make me eat it. Sometimes he would beat me with a birch, or his sword cane. Once he made me walk across broken glass to get to my bed. As I said, he was creative." Ivy's hatred seeped out of her like the beginnings of a burst dam. 

"Why the rune-inscribed, silver cage in Soissons?" I asked. "You're not a sorcerer, the runes would have little effect on you." 

"He was paranoid that someone would try and take me, so that's where I slept. In an impenetrable prison that would nullify the abilities of anyone who managed to break in."

I leaned against the nearest tree. "That explains why you hate Mordred. But not why he left you alone in that nice room back in the village."

"When we left England, King Henry required an escort for us. Mordred didn't want one, but Henry insisted. It was why the English archers died. It was the only way Mordred's could get out the city without a trace.

"Every morning while we travelled, Mordred had me read for him. He wanted to know what would happen each and every day. Two days after we arrived in that village I told him that if he stayed another night that he would be killed in the morning. So he ordered his men to stay in the village and guard me and then he left. He was meant to come back in a few days. He told me that he had other things to do." 

I couldn't help but smile. "He was scared. He would never have left without a fight if he thought you were wrong."

"But he came back," Ivy pointed out.

"Could he have thought you were lying?" Thomas asked as he rejoined us. 

"Psychics can't lie about a vision," I said as Ivy shook her head. "They can't fake one either. Whatever they see, they're compelled to tell the truth. They have no control over it. Mordred knows this."

The question bounced around my head for a short period of time until I came up with an answer that best suited Mordred. "He was worried about leaving you alone for any length of time. What were his plans for you? Do you know?"

"No," she lied.

I turned to Thomas. "Can you give us a moment?"

He stuck an apple in his mouth and took a large bite. "Be over there," he said between chews.

"I like him," Ivy said. "He's a noble man. I've met very few."

"You have five seconds to tell me the truth or I leave you here to sort yourself out."

"We both know that's not going to happen," she replied with a sly smile.

"Fine, you're right, but you're going to tell me anyway."

"Thomas can not be made aware of what I'm about to tell you. Promise me."

"Tell me what it is and we'll go from there."

"Promise me," she repeated, her eyes cold and hard. She was not going to be dissuaded from her course of action.

"Tell me why first."

"If Thomas finds out, he'll attack Mordred at first chance. We both know how that will end up."

Badly. Thomas would be dead in seconds. 

"You've got a deal, what's going on?"

"You were right, Mordred needs me. He's using people, making them into weapons. Training them, selling them to those with the highest bids."

"And you're to be sold?"

"No, I'm his. Or at least I'm to be used only by him. He has two other women, the three of us together are going be something he's worked for a thousand years to put together."

That was nearly as long as I'd known Mordred, he would have been working on it soon after betraying Arthur... after nearly killing me. "What does he want you for?"

"I can't tell you. And no threats will make me. If you know these things..." She wiped away a tear as it ran down her cheek, before rolling up her sleeve to show a dark swirling mark on the top of her arm. She grabbed my hands in hers, they shook slightly, she was scared. But something told me that she wasn't just scared for herself. "He cursed me, I cannot speak of his plans unless he allows. Or until those plans are completed."

"I hate blood magic shit," I said with a hard fought smile.

"If it makes you feel better, I feel the same way."

I decided it best to change the subject. "I've seen the other mark on your thigh," I said without breaking eye contact.

"I thought you might have," she said. "I'd hoped to keep it secret. Just like you didn't want to mention the six you have on your chest."

"Who did that to you? Mordred?"

She nodded. "I have two, one on each thigh. Like the one on my shoulder, he wanted to put them somewhere that they wouldn't easily show to others who have been cursed with blood magic. They stop me from ageing."

I couldn't believe what I'd heard. "How did he do that?"

"He used a sacrifice. In fact about two-dozen people were killed. These marks will ensure that I don't age, although I am just as vulnerable to the elements and other human conditions. I can die."

"So he murdered two dozen people to make sure you don't age?"

"I was seventeen. He sat me in a gigantic bath, and poured the blood of twenty-four men and women over me. He forced me to drink some of it. And then he conducted his spell, using their souls, their essence, as a basis for it. Apparently it took him years to prepare it all. He was very proud."

"How old are you?" 

Ivy glanced over at Thomas who was busy skimming rocks over the lake. "One hundred and thirty-one."

My mouth dropped open. "And you've been with Mordred all that time?"

Ivy nodded.

"Why did he do it? I mean why did he want a one hundred plus year-old psychic?"

Ivy didn't reply for a heartbeat. "Why do you not get your blood curse removed?" When she said it, her tone was soft, almost a whisper, as if afraid of the question. Or afraid of my answer.

I thought about lying, saying that I didn't care about the marks, but that would have been doing Ivy a disservice. "Because I know what it takes, the sacrifice that would need to be made. And so long as I have a say in it, I won’t have anyone do that for me. Not now, not ever."

Ivy nodded, satisfied with my answer. "It's part of his plan. I'm not the only one he marked in this way. The others, the ones he's going to sell as weapons, are at his castle near Orleans."

Ivy and I sat in silence for some time. My mind raced at the possibilities of why anyone would want to create an ageless psychic. 

My thoughts were broken by Thomas, who had decided to rejoin us. "What’s the plan?" he asked. 

I explained about Orleans, which Thomas absorbed with quiet thought. “Do you have a plan for getting into this fortress?”

"I’m thinking on it. We've got to assume that Mordred is already there,” I said. “He’ll be fortifying their defences. You both sure you want to come?"

"I won't let him hurt anyone else," Ivy said with conviction. "And I want to be free of him."

I looked over at Thomas. 

"You know I'm coming," he said. "I've got some vengeance of my own that needs to be inflicted on those bastards."

"How long until we reach this... prison?" I asked Ivy.

"By foot? Two, maybe three days."

"Well, we'd better get moving then. You'd both better get some water to drink and something to eat, because we've got a hell of a march ahead of us." 

Both Thomas and Ivy brimmed with the expectation of getting revenge on the man who had destroyed their lives. But I knew that Mordred would rather see everyone he held captive die, than allow anyone to take him alive. Innocent people were going to die, I was sure of that.

Chapter 26

The large city of Orleans sat on the river Loire and was one of the richest cities in France, with one of the few bridges passing over the river leading right into her heart. The only problem for us was getting past Paris. As Orleans was directly south of our current position, going around Paris would have taken precious time, so we walked through it. A calculated risk, but Thomas played the mute servant well, and Ivy took the role as my niece, whilst I continued to play the part of a man on a pilgrimage. None of us were bothered by the guard or citizens, but we didn't stay, no matter how nice the idea of a fresh bed might have been.

We did, however, buy plenty of food, mostly bread and cheese, enough to last a few days. 

After Paris, we kept moving for two days and nights, rarely stopping for longer than a few minutes during the day and finding somewhere safe and off the roads for short periods at night to get some sleep. 

At some point our luck at remaining undisturbed was going to run out, and the closer we got to Orleans, the more likely we were to be attacked by Mordred's forces. I wanted to avoid a confrontation for as long as possible. 

"We're close now," Ivy said as we passed an old derelict hut, scorch marks evident on the wooden beams used as the frame. 

She pointed down a small dirt road. "The prison is down there, about a mile. One of the prisoners, a boy named Simon, managed to escape and get through the woods." She turned to Thomas. "He found this place, and an old man and woman lived here. They gave him shelter. Mordred found them and killed the old couple before dragging Simon back. I can sometimes still hear his screams at night." 

She hugged herself tightly, until Thomas placed a strong hand on her shoulder. "He won't hurt anyone again." I had to give Thomas credit, he certainly believed his words. Although I doubted it was going to be an easy thing to achieve.

"Get some rest, we leave at nightfall." I turned and walked off toward the prison.

"Where are you going?" Thomas called after me.

"Research." I stepped through the tree line and into the dark forest.

I ran, avoiding any bushes or patches of mud by virtue of using the tiny amount of light on offer. The Guan Do occasionally caught a branch, slicing it in two, the sound of it crashing to the ground echoing behind me, but I had little interest in removing the weapon, or repositioning it. If anyone was out there and came to investigate... well, it wouldn't end happily for them.

After a few minutes, the trees began to thin out, sunlight crept back in through the densely packed leaves above me, and I slowed down. By the time I'd reached the edge of the forest I was walking slowly, careful not to give my position away to anyone watching. 

The good news was that the prison wasn't surrounded by a moat. Unfortunately, that was where the good news ended. I sat at the top of a steep hill. The only thing between me and the ten-yard high stone walls of the outer ring of the prison, was a huge expanse of open space. 

I could see inside the prison grounds from my vantage point. After the sheer walls, there was a large courtyard, with three buildings feeding off from it. Two of them were quite small. Armed soldiers, none of them with any marking to tell country or allegiance, came and went from one of them, suggesting it was the barracks. It was about the right size to house twenty men. Maybe fewer if they had a lot of equipment. 

Smoke rose from the chimney of the second, smaller building. It was probably the kitchen. 

The last building was the most interesting. It was also the most imposing, as it resembled an actual castle. At least five floors high, and maybe ten times the size of the other two buildings combined, it would be like a maze in there. And that was if it didn't have any below ground levels, which didn't seem likely even as I thought it.