THE SERPENT'S TOOTH, Part 15
The storm - Dare's storm - dissipated with unnatural quickness and within moments the sun reappeared to reclaim the sky.
The temple's courtyard was scarred and scorched by lightning, and the air stank of ozone, burnt stone, blood, demonic fluids, and human fear. More than a few of the temple's defenders were injured during the battle with the demons. A pair of temple healers clad in white robes had appeared and were quietly seeing to the wounded. At least two servants of the Goddesses - a Blade acolyte and a Wilder guardsman - were beyond help.
Like everyone else, my ears were ringing from the din of thunder, but at least I could still hear.
The mage from House Strange had confronted me. Her name was Cynthia and she was quite angry.
"The situation was under control until you arrived!" she snapped at me. In my experience, mages are a mouthy lot. Cynthia probably thought she was showing admirable restraint.
Beside me, Benjamin stiffened and his face went cold. Jessica had a very different expression. It was more like a cat patiently waiting for some prey to wander too close. Gant - standing out in the courtyard, still watching over Dare - tapped the butt of his club against the ground. That was a customary warning among his people. It was a suggestion that somebody should shut up.
Even Samantha and Sophie shifted in a manner that suggested they were disturbed by Cynthia's plain-spokeness. The daggers in their hands shifted as they looked at me expectantly.
I held up a hand to calm them down. The situation didn't call for violence.
"You were in control of nothing," I responded flatly. "How did Ste... how did the boy end up in the courtyard?"
Cynthia was about to make what looked like a dangerously hot response when Dare walked over and put a hand on her shoulder. Regaining control of herself, Cynthia subsided.
All eyes were on Ingrid. The boy was standing in front of her and she was clutching him close with her unbroken arm. The boy was gazing up at me. He looked more curious than frightened. I could see no sign within him of the spirit that had been present just moments earlier.
"My lord, please!" Ingrid begged, her face white with fear and pain.
"What's his name?" I asked quietly.
As I intended, my question seemed to calm Ingrid. Unless identification is an issue, people are generally uninterested in the names of those they plan on murdering.
"Sigmund," Ingrid replied.
So Ingrid had named the boy after her murdered father. Whatever else Ingrid's father had done with his life, whatever powers he had served, and whatever stain there might have been on his blood, he'd still left behind a daughter who cherished his memory. That was as it should be.
"The boy is in no danger from me," I told Ingrid. "And I will do everything in my power to protect him."
Cynthia and Dare exchanged a glance as they realized that perhaps I wasn't quite as clueless as they'd thought.
I could see hope suddenly kindling in Ingrid's eyes. It was then that I realized that she'd spent long years dreading the day when I would finally come for her and her boy. Of course, her fear had been justified. Only a few minutes earlier, I had every intention of killing her and her son.
"Ingrid, what happened?" Carol - the senior priestess of the temple - asked as she approached. A retinue of guardsman and acolytes surrounded her.
Ingrid bowed before answering. "We were in the servant's quarters, my lady. I was told to stay out of sight while priestess Dare talked with the seeker. Then... then I remember nothing. The next thing I knew, Sigmund was gone. I guessed he was going towards the courtyard and ran after him. When I found him, Sigmund was with a man in a cloak. He pushed Sigmund out into the courtyard."
"Who was he?" Dare interrupted.
Ingrid shook her head. "I don't know. He was taller than me, but slender for a man. I caught just a glimpse of his face. He had green eyes and he was smiling at me. I've never seen him before."
I growled irritably. Benjamin was the only one who caught it - he gave me a worried glance.
"Bar the gates. Search the grounds," Carol told her senior guardsman. He was standing behind her right shoulder.
The elder guardsman instantly nodded and began giving purposeful orders. The guardsmen in the courtyard quickly scattered in different directions.
Then Carol looked expectantly at the young Fire priestess who'd accompanied her during the fight in the courtyard. The priestess closed her eyes and began concentrating. I could feel a ripple of psychic energy as she began scanning the area with her mind.
I found myself hoping that she wouldn't find her target. It wouldn't go well for her if she did. I knew who the hooded figure was, but I just didn't understand what kind of game Loki was playing.
The Fire priestess eventually looked at Carol and shook her head. She'd found nothing.
A guardsman poked his through the gate. "Priestess Carol!" he called out, "Lord Alban's samurai are here!"
"Oh, just fuck this," I heard Carol whisper to herself. The issue of a lord's samurai setting foot on temple grounds was always a sensitive one, but they could hardly be blamed for investigating an obvious battle in the midst of their lord's village.
"Admit them," Carol said in a louder tone. The gate guard vanished back outside. Within seconds, the massive gate slowly swung open.
A dozen armored samurai, the badges of Lord Alban on their chain-shirts, poured into the courtyard and fanned out. They were obviously ready for trouble.
A senior samurai was in the lead. When he saw us, he held up a clawed fist, indicating to the samurai behind him that they should halt.
There was a frozen moment as it sank in that there was no immediate battle to be fought. The samurai all took in the obvious signs of a recent skirmish. Then the senior samurai realized that many of those facing him were persons of rank. Quickly transitioning from war to diplomacy, he retracted his claws and carefully gave us a cross-armed bow.
"Seeker James, we heard a... a disturbance," he explained to me. I suppose "disturbance" was as reasonable a way as any to describe a head-long, bloody, and lightning-strewn battle against other-worldly monstrosities.
There was a stir from among the temple staff. The fact the samurai was addressing me instead of Carol was technically correct for a Blood samurai - although it was based on a misunderstanding about my status - but that didn't mean that the temple had to like it.
"There was a problem and it has been settled," I told the senior samurai. "Your quick response is noted, but your presence is not required."
The senior samurai continued to show admirable restraint. He jerked his head backwards and the other samurai began withdrawing back through the gate. However, the senior samurai remained where he was.
"At your convenience, Seeker James, the lord requests your presence," he informed me.
"I'll see Lord Alban as soon as possible," I told him. "Please send my apologies for not being more prompt, but I have vital matters to settle here."
The senior samurai bowed once again and then followed his men out the gate.
After Lord Alban's samurai left, I looked at Carol.
"It would be best if I understood what's going on when I meet Lord Alban," I pointed out.
Carol gave an abrupt nod, and then turned to look at Dare and Cynthia. "Talk to the man," she ordered.
Then Carol glanced back at me. "I have to see to my people."
"Of course," I replied.
As Carol - a gore-streaked blade still in hand and demonic blood staining her robes - stalked off to consult with the healers, I gave Dare an expectant look.
"Let's find somewhere private to talk," Dare said in a resigned voice.
Cynthia was back to looking angry again.
We withdrew deep inside the temple itself, ending up in a small audience chamber. Long ago, Dare and I had discussed Rahne's fate in that room. Not too far away was the sleeping chamber where Emma and I had made love for the first time. The image of Emma, dressed as a humble Folk handmaiden as she gracefully slipped out of her clothes and got into our cot, wandered through my mind. It took some effort to dispel it.
I wished Emma was with me. I needed her wisdom and advice.
"This is difficult to explain," Dare began slowly.
The conversation needed to speed up. "The spirit of Ancient Strange is in the boy," I told her.
Stephen Strange - the Sorcerer Supreme of our world for many centuries - had perished just a few short years ago. In fact, he died fighting in the final battle against Malekith.
Cynthia looked startled. "How did you..." she began.
Dare gave her a dour look. "James was a seeker for a very long time, Cynthia. He knows more about the spirit world than either of us would care to imagine."
Whatever else she might be, Cynthia wasn't the kind of person who refused to accept a truth she didn't like. "You're right, Lord James," she admitted. "Ancient Strange is still with us. And if we can keep the boy safe long enough, then the true Sorcerer Supreme - in his full power - will return to us."
After Ancient Strange's death, a mage named Cyrus had assumed Stephen's mantle. And it was no insult to the man when I wondered if he were up to the task. To be the Sorcerer Supreme was an awesome burden. And there were inimical forces lurking in the threshold between reality and not-reality that only a true Sorcerer Supreme could defend our world against.
"Stephen wouldn't allow the boy's death," I said thoughtfully. "So he did the only thing he could to prevent it. As he himself was dying, he merged his spirit with that of the boy."
Dare nodded in agreement. "The mages of House Strange detected it immediately. They contacted the temple and warned us against killing Ingrid and the boy. You were not told because we feared that an elder power had left some residue of itself within you, and if you saw the boy it would know that Ancient Strange was still with us."
"It appears that our fear were well-founded," Cynthia added.
"But now Dormammu knows," I said grimly. "He knows about the boy and about Ancient Strange."
Both Dare and Cynthia winced at my use of the Dread One's name.
"I don't understand who led the boy into the courtyard," Cynthia fretted.
"It was Loki," I said distractedly. I was trying to decide what to do next.
For a long moment, Cynthia and Dare just stared at me.
"Loki?! How?!" Dare eventually sputtered.
"He led me here," I replied. "For whatever reason, he wants Dormammu to know about the boy."
Cynthia looked distinctly ill. "What do we do now?" she asked resignedly.
Dare and I had no answer to that question.