Chapter 19
The Sisterhood
Thunder hurried down the stairs. Weasel, ran ahead. Satisfied the way was clear, the boy beckoned and they ran across the open space between the Great Hall and the House of Ways. Moments later, the tread of heavy feet announced the approach of a sizeable party.
Thunder squinted through a crack and watched as senior members of the Sisterhood of Rebirth advanced over the cobblestones with a vigour that reminded him of Imperial storm troopers intent on laying waste a tribal village. The ladies formed up before a shrine and started to wail.
Their hysteria was directed at a group of bronze figures representing the Holy Mother, the Good God and a baby. The trio had been put there by supporters of religious reforms initiated by the new Grand Master of the Duideth.
In the new order of things, the Good God was recognised as an earthly manifestation of the Lord Sun and had taken on a more loving, caring role than his predecessor. The baby was the product of his union with the goddess and represented the hopes and aspirations of humanity.
The infant was a great favourite with the local women and shrines to the trio were popping up all over the place. And, not just in the lands of the Catti. In Gorm, Galboreth and much further afield, metal smiths were working day and night to meet the demands of the new faith.
'Magdoor!'
The Senior Sister shrieked the battle name of the goddess.
'Bring down Thy wrath.'
Thunder had heard it all before. The sisters were never short of words when things didn't go their way. Weasel remained anxious.
'Is it true the Holy Mother assumes her fearful aspect and enters into the Senior Sister and works her purpose through her?' the boy asked.
Thunder saw the alarm on the boy's face.
'Well, my lad. You'll have to trust your own judgement on that. If you see the Senior Sister grow more horrible and fearsome than she usually is ... then you'll know there might be something in it.'
The gaunt-faced woman reached the end of her tirade and called on the goddess to enter into her. Weasel looked for a change and was unable to discern any. The woman remained as repulsive as ever. He watched as she raised her staff and took a swipe at the baby god.
The infant's bronze head detached from its body and bounced over the cobblestones. She scooped it up and strode towards them. Weasel guessed she knew they were there. People said she could see through walls so it wouldn't be surprising if she could see round corners.
'Where is that foul fiend who let loose a viper?'
Thunder walked down the steps to meet her.
'Yes. I'm talking about you.'
She thrust her staff in Thunder's face.
'Where is he?'
'You must excuse me, Sister.' Thunder bowed respectfully. 'I'm just a plain warrior. I don't know who you are talking about.'
'Don't play the clever donkey with me. You know who I mean. You brought him here. You introduced him to that foul and blasphemous Aaroen.'
Thunder shook his head. 'Sorry. I still don't get it. I'm not good at riddles. You'll have to give me another clue.'
'Tomas ... the one you call Sky Warrior.'
'Very clever, Sister. I'd never have got it if you hadn't told me.'
'Where is he?'
'I wish I knew. I'd hoped you might tell me.'
The black-robed woman moved into the porch and Weasel scurried away.
'You must put an end to this.'
'End to what, Sister?'
'That Tomas has sown the most foul and insidious thoughts into the mind of the vile transgressor, Aaroen.'
Thunder scratched the back of his neck. 'I don't understand. I thought you'd be pleased that the Sky Warrior had got rid of the Big Poof.'
'Got rid?' She bared her yellow teeth. 'Whatever do you mean?'
'He got rid of the Lord Sun.'
She opened her hand and produced the head of the baby god.
'What's this?'
'I think they call him the Holy Infant, Sister. He's meant to represent the Holy Lady's bounty or something like that.'
'Prince of Light. That's what they call him.' The Senior Sister pointed to the golden halo about the baby's head. 'If we don't rid ourselves of the foul creature, we shall see him grow into a great lord.'
She pointed a trembling finger at Thunder.
'You must understand. Aaroen did not get rid of the Lord Sun. He had him reborn. Soon the foul usurper will be both God the Father and God the Son.'
Thunder nodded reflectively. 'You could be right there, sister. But, I don't think the Sky Warrior put him up to it. He might have given Aaroen a few ideas. You know what the big fellow is like.'
'Aye. He has a big mouth. He blabs like a brook. The sooner he meets his deserved end the better.'
'I don't think we should be too hasty.' Thunder moved closer and dropped his voice. 'Morgon has been reinforced. We need the Sky Warrior. The people wouldn't feel safe without their giant.'
'Aye. We need the hideous creature like we need all his accursed kind.' The Senior Sister's face darkened. 'But, we don't need him for long. The vile transgressor's days are numbered. I delight at the agonies he will suffer when he meets his deserved fate. My heart rejoices when I contemplate the pain his foul body will endure when his eyes are put out, his entrails burned and the flesh cut from his living body.'
***
An argument was raging in the royal apartments when Thunder returned. The strident voice of the Sword Master of Galboreth could be heard above the din, yelling at the girls of the guard, telling them to stand aside. The girls were at the foot of the stairs leading to the Head Master's chambers. Shields raised, spears pointing outwards, they confronted the Sword Master and a crowd of his supporters.
'I know the big sod's up there.'
'Stand your ground,' the girls ordered.
Thunder pushed his way to the front and placed himself between the Sword Master and the girls. 'Her Majesty has given strict orders that he is not to be disturbed. The Sky Warrior is working on a battle plan.'
'Working on a plan to seduce our women ... more likely.'
Thunder tried another approach.
'Have you seen those big transports out there in the channel?'
'They don't frighten me.'
'Have you seen the machines on their decks? They can lob a fireball over four hundred paces. That's enough to set Dunavon ablaze and destroy your boats that are moored there.'
'Those big hulks are stuck in the mud. They'll rot before they can threaten us.'
Morgon's waiting for the king tides,' Thunder countered. 'They're only a few days away. When they come, he'll move those boats up to Dunavon and set it ablaze. Only the Sky Warrior can save us then.'
The Sword Master turned to his companions.
'What our good friend says is correct. The big bastard knows how to fight Morgon. But that doesn't mean we've got to put up with him forever. When his time comes he'll go the way of all heroes.'
He began to recite the names of the Good God, adding Tomas to the list. A murmur of approval ran through the crowd. Thunder knew what was on their minds. In the early days, The Sky Warrior had confined his attention to the girls of the guard. Now, all manner of women were flocking after him. It was the sort of thing bards sung about: how a hero arrived and did great things before overstepping the mark and paying the ultimate price.
Thunder had seen a few heroes. Most were village champions who went after a few too many girls and got what they deserved at harvest time. The Sky Warrior was something different. There were even rumours that he'd seduced members of the sisterhood.
Thunder didn't believe that. Nor did he believe that the princess had shared his bed. Adrina hadn't denied the rumour. That wasn't surprising. She was telling people that the Holy Mother had entered into her. Since the Sky Warrior was meant to be the earthly embodiment of the Good God, it made sense they should get together.
***
Thunder entered the Head Master's chambers. The scene was depressing. A cobbler, wearing a leather apron, stood beside a low table. The queen's naked body was stretched out before him. The trunk was slit open from neck to groin and the contents removed. Thunder was reminded of a butcher's shop when a pig was being prepared for curing. There was little of the reverence that should accompany the embalming rites of a great and respected leader.
Tom stood beside the body pushing moss into cavities.
'It's not going as we think it should,' he said.
'What do you suggest?'
'I think we should call in an expert.'
'There's no one we can trust.'
'Then we shall have to do the best we can. The cobbler thinks we should concentrate on the head. He's done heads. They are fairly standard. It's whole bodies that present problems ... they're a specialist job.'
A feeling of gloom descended on Thunder.
'We've got to do all of it. I gave my undertaking to Her Majesty.'
'We could cut it into pieces and treat the bits separately,' the cobbler suggested. 'That way we're not likely to lose the lot. There should always be some what comes out right.'
'How about soda ash?' Tom said. 'That's good at breaking down fat. If we can get rid of the fat, the rest should be easy.'
'The head's where the soul light has its lodging,' the cobbler countered. 'Like I said ... that's the bit we should concentrate on.'
It pained Thunder to hear them talking about the old woman as if she was a side of ham or a salmon that was resisting smoking. Lack of sleep was getting to him. His inclination was to argue but there was sense in what the cobbler said. He stepped back from the table.
'Very well. Cut the head from the body and give it the full treatment. Her Majesty would not regard that as an act of disrespect. All the religious authorities agree that the head is where the soul resides. I don't think there's any doubt about that.'
'I could check it out with the Sisters of Rebirth,' Tom ventured.
'No you could not.' Thunder's nerves snapped. 'Keep away from the sisters. One false move and they'll send you to a place from which you'll never return. You have no idea how much trouble you're causing.'
'That's because he's got the Good God within him,' the cobbler chuckled.
'No one asked you to speak!'
Thunder rounded on the man then resigned himself to the inevitable. 'Cut the body into pieces and get them down to Dunavon as quickly as possible ... that's where she's going to be needed.'
***
The two warships had moved forward during the night. Thunder looked at the tide marks on the wharf and consulted the Port Master who said the king tide would occur towards evening. The huge vessels would then be able to move to a position where they could rain down fire on Dunavon. A decisive engagement was imminent. He heard Tom's booming voice and saw him approaching.
'I've got something to show you.'
Tom grabbed Thunder's arm.
'You know about that fire water I'm making?'
'I told you to throw it into the river.'
'You don't understand its value.'
Tom propelled him along the causeway towards the island at the far end.
'I've been selling it to Morgon's men. Barrels of the stuff. I've bought an entire artillery unit ... ballista, fireballs, crew ... the lot. Didn't you know there's a civil war going on in the Empire?'
'I have heard that there are differences of opinion.'
'Differences.' Tom threw out his arms. 'You people haven't begun to understand what's going on. You should've let me set up an intelligence network. You've got to know what's happening in your enemy's camp.'
'I deeply regret the omission.'
'It didn't take me long to come to grips with the situation.' Tom slowed his pace. 'My fellows ... the ones who have brought their artillery pieces over to us ... they're from Ibero, which is in the west. Morgon comes from Mordino, which is in the middle. My boys hate Morgon almost as much as they love my firewater.' He glanced at Thunder who was examining the munitions stacked on the causeway. 'You've got to exploit the differences in the Empire. You've got to play one lot off against the other.'
Thunder looked up from a pile of stone balls.
'I can't understand why we've not thought of that.'
A gate at the end of the causeway was manned by a contingent of recruits from Gorm. The tribesmen had huge clubs and shouted enthusiastically when Tom drew his mace and thumped it on the palm of his hand. They returned the salute and pulled back the gate to let him pass through onto the island. In the gaps between the buildings a formidable array of ballistic machines had been assembled, each flanked by a body of soldiers.
'Take a look at that.' Tom pointed towards a row of gigantic catapults. 'There you see some of the finest artillery pieces the Empire can produce. Those magnificent machines no sooner arrived from the south than these fine lads took them into their protection and brought them over to our side.'
Thunder cast his eyes over the stony-faced men. They didn't look like mutineers, intent on trading loyalty for firewater. They had the appearance of an elite force of highly motivated troops. He placed his hand on his sword and began a slow tour of inspection, walking from one unit to the next, checking the machines, examining the insignia on the soldiers' uniforms and listening to their accents as they shouted names and rank.
Reaching the end of the line, he turned to Tom and spoke loudly enough for all to hear. 'Her Majesty will be pleased when she hears of this, Sky Warrior.'
'I deeply regret that the noble lady is indisposed and unable to express her appreciation to our friends from Ibero,' Tom shouted back.
At a signal from one of their officers, the soldiers chanted a hymn of praise to the queen. Thunder wasn't impressed. He walked out of earshot and turned to Tom.
'How do you know they won't turn their guns on us?'
'My fellows outnumber them.'
'You mean the Gorms?' Thunder nodded towards the clubmen. 'You're saying you've brought in the Empire's best troops, armed with their most deadly weapons, and you've picked a pack of drunken Gorms to guard them?'
'There's no need to worry about the loyalty of my men.'
'The Gorms will be replaced by the royal guard,' Thunder barked.
'I'm not having those girls here,' Tom protested.
'The guard take their orders from me.' Thunder produced the royal badge of command. 'Until the delicate problem of the succession is resolved I continue to exercise viceregal authority as I have always done. That was Her Majesty's last wish and it was made in the presence of her clan chieftains.'
The announcement came as a shock. Not because Thunder was now in charge. Tom had long suspected that the little man was more than a humble servant to the queen. What horrified him was that he had been excluded from the old woman's last hours.
***
The royal apartments at Dunavon were above the Water Gate and could be entered on both the landward and seaward sides. Thunder passed through the gate in a small boat rowed by a member of the royal guard. He hurried up the stairs to the War Chamber and was admitted to the presence of Adrina and two men. One was dressed in the flowing robes of a rich southern merchant. The other wore the sealskins of a common boatman. They rose when he entered.
Adrina gestured towards the older of the two.
'You remember my uncle ... don't you?'
'I have had the honour of meeting the noble lord.'
Adrina's uncle returned Thunder's bow and gave a short speech, praising Thunder for his dedicated service to the House of Ap-Cronwyn and his support of trade between the Catti and Ibero. He reached beneath his robes and produced a richly decorated dagger, saying it was a modest token of the esteem in which Thunder was held by the copper, tin and lead smiths' guild of his home province.
Thunder replied with a short speech of his own, using some of the more flowery expressions in the southern language. 'I regret that I have no adequate gift in return,' he said. 'I beg the noble lord to excuse me. The noble lord's arrival was unexpected.'
Adrina's uncle smiled. 'To be in your presence, noble Thunder, is more than sufficient.'
Never one to be impressed by southern manners, Thunder turned his attention to the second man who stood squarely before him in his sealskins and tall boots. He felt certain he'd seen him before. Suddenly, he remembered where.
'The noble lord has not introduced his companion.'
Adrina's uncle turned towards the other man.
'This is Count Bollino of Morda ... travelling incognito. He is a good friend from my home province.'
Thunder eyed the man coldly then brought his arm up slowly in a salute of the kind exchanged by senior officers in the Imperial army. 'Thunder son of Lightning.' he barked in a crisp, military voice.
'General Marcelo Bollino, Deputy Commander of the Thirteenth Legion.' The Count barked back and returned the salute.
Thunder was oddly gratified. It was the first time he had been treated as an equal by an officer of the Imperial army, even if the army was falling apart.
'What brings you here, General?'
'My men are stationed on the island.'
'I've just inspected them,' Thunder said. 'The Sky Warrior tells me that they've been bribed with fire water.'
'The big buffoon would think that.' General Bollino snorted. 'I can't understand why you people chose him as your War Master. The man's lost control of his senses.'
'He did rather well against you at Baddon Marsh.'
'That was a long time ago.'
'No more than three months.'
'Three months is a long time in war,' the general smiled. 'Your Sky Warrior is not the man who fought us at Baddon Marsh. The drink has got to him ... and so have the women.'
'You still haven't told me why you're here.'
'The Catti and the people of Ibero have interests in common.' The general stared at Thunder from under his sealskin hood. 'The Empire is disintegrating. We want a free Ibero and we want reliable allies.'
Thunder reached for his moustache. He understood Adrina's uncle but the general was different. Adrina's uncle was interested in money. Men like the general were interested in power. He waited for him to continue. The man was trying to draw him out. Thunder played the part of the ignorant native waiting for what the great southern lord would say next.
'We need to discuss the succession,' the general grunted. 'We want the Catti to be strong. What's this nonsense about making the Chariot Master king?'
'There are those amongst the clan chieftains who would like to see Griffin Pendragon elected paramount chief,' Thunder said. 'They see him as someone who can always be relied upon to reach a compromise. My own preference is for a more forceful personality but I am a mere servant of our nation in this difficult period of transition.'
'We won't have a bar of it.' the general growled.
Adrina touched his arm reassuringly. 'There's nothing to worry about. The clan chieftains always do what the Holy Mother wants.'
'I'm sure they do,' the general snorted. 'But who's going to tell them what the good lady wants?..Will it be one of those witches from the sisterhood?..They've got very assertive now your mother's not around to keep them in order.'
'The Holy Lady has made known her wishes to me,' Adrina replied quietly. 'It is her divine will that the succession remain in the House of Ap-Cronwyn.'
'I'm sure the good lady has told you that ... but who's going to believe you?'
'General, I don't understand.'
'Princess. I saw you on Baddon Plane, not three months past. You had a sprig of holly in your hand and you were shouting to the Gorms to share in the Sky Warrior's victory. I was waiting to come in on your side. Now, you tell me what happened.'
Adrina's eyes glazed over. 'I was young and foolish. I thought I could do anything by calling on the Holy Mother. I did not understand I was her servant.'
A silence followed. The general looked at Adrina's uncle who was grasping his amber worry beads then returned his attention to Adrina.
'Men died because of you.'
'I shall make amends. I have learned much.'
'In just three months?'
'Three months is a long time when you're reborn in the grace of the Holy Mother.'
'Reborn.' the general exploded. 'That's a famous word but not one I have much time for.' He turned to Thunder and pointed to the island at the end of the causeway. 'I want assurances for my boys out there. I want to know they won't be stabbed in the back by that bunch of Gorms that's guarding the gate.'
'The Gorms will be replaced by the royal guard.'
'Oh. Will they?' The general roared. 'I wouldn't trust those hairy-legged nymphomaniacs any more than I'd trust those scrawny old hags of the sisterhood. I warn you, Thunder son of Claptrap. The moment my boys come under threat ... this place goes up in flames.'