Duilleog by Donald D. Allan

Author:Donald D. Allan
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fantasy Druids Magic Gaea
Publisher: Donald D. Allan
Published: 2018-11-05T05:00:00+00:00

Sometime later, after Seth had stumbled out of the room and away into the darkness of the corridor, the Archbishop sat quietly at his desk and considered recent events. Discovering that the coin had been found in the bitch's old room and then sent to the far-off west coast only to be found by the last of the heathen druids was almost too much to bear. For the past few months, he had waited to hear that Seth's assassin had recovered the coin and now so much more had happened. He felt a loss of control and pushed back the rage that accompanied it.

He glanced at the stone floor near his desk and could find no traces of the blood Seth had spilt. That is good, he thought, for nothing must give away my secret workings for God. He remembered the joy of beating Seth and how good it had felt to give in to the anger. He was reminded of the sexual desire it used to bring to him and he smiled in fond memory of those nights spent in private in his bedchamber. God has been good to me, he thought and mentally gave thanks.

Beating Seth had been energising. He remembered how the edges of his vision had tinged with red and the anger he had let loose threatened to overwhelm him and control his actions. He had felt his heart pounding painfully through his rib cage and had thought for a moment that at his age he feared it would soon stop forever, but at the moment, he had felt so very much alive!

The Archbishop had so wanted to crush this man lying in front of him, and he had gripped his cane in eager anticipation. But he could not. Seth was his finest weapon. And so he had stopped himself but the caning had been over far too quickly for his likes. Every part of his very being had urged him to raise the stick to continue. Slowly he had willed himself to remain still and with a momentous effort, he had pushed his anger back inside where it belonged—small and tight within his chest. He had stood there for several minutes, watching the blood slowly congeal around the head of Seth.

The Archbishop reached out with a trembling hand and took the missive in his fingers, bringing it close to his face to scan the words once more. They were easily committed to memory, and he lazily swivelled in his chair and let the parchment slip from his hand to fall into the small fire in the fireplace. It caught immediately and blazed fiercely for a mere moment before vanishing into white ashes.

If only I could wipe these druids clear from the earth as easily as I can burn this parchment, he thought tiredly. My life's work all but ruined by these druids—or draoi as they liked to call themselves. The word of God had been smeared and thrown down to the lowest of lows within the Kingdom.

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