Page 4 of Wicked Savior
He dips his chin. “Yes.”
I smirk at his reticence. “Have you used it in the past?”
“Yes,” he admits gruffly, his voice strained with irritation.
“Did you know the Duke of Malevolentia had possession of the artifact?”
Anger sparks in the depths of his blue eyes. “No.” Hands clenched, he paces back and forth. “And before you ask, yes. I owned it before him. It’s mine. A… gift given to me long ago. But it was stolen around a thousand years ago. I always suspected him, but none of my spies could ever find a hint of its location.” He jams his fists on his sides.
Another piece to the puzzle. “Well, he’s gone, and it’s back in your possession,” I state firmly, watching him nod in satisfaction. “What’s the history of its origin?”
He stops pacing and swivels to look at me. “A Celtic warrior was given the piece in 1020 BCE as a reward for his bravery.”
The answer fits the design of the piece, but not the language of the spell on its surface. “Was he human?”
“Yes,” Cormal replies shortly.
“What does the torque do to humans?”
He shrugs.
“The torque increases power. Humans have no power,” I state, watching him closely. His brows lower and jaw clenches. “Or I should say, the common human has no magical power. Witches acquired magic during that timeframe, but their spells and magic were simple.”
He runs a hand through his hair, an air of frustration surrounding him.
“There is one group of humans who had access to magic and power before the witches… Druids,” I say, watching him stiffen. “In fact, I seem to recall they appeared around ninth or tenth century BCE. Was the warrior a Druid?”
He shrugs.
Power swells along with my irritation, and the air becomes charged. Maybe a small display will get me the answers I need.
Reading my intent, he raises a hand. “The warrior was the first Druid. The torque was given to him.”
“By whom?”
Uncomfortable with revealing so much information, he runs a hand down his face. “History is vague and inconsistent on this account. Some sources say it was an angel from heaven, others say the power came from the divine, and yet, others report the piece was found buried in the ground. Nothing indicates which one was the truth. Maybe your library will offer more answers.”
A master of misdirection, I weigh his words, unsure whether to believe him or not.
He smirks. “It’s true. Most of the information has been lost or destroyed, so the facts are scarce. Even among the Druids.” He pauses when I frown. “If you recall, I requested access to your library several times but was denied. It’s one of the oldest in existence and likely your best source of information.”
My library is one of my most treasured possessions. Built by my predecessor, and extensively added to by me, it houses the best collection of ancient scrolls, books, and artifacts across the supernatural worlds. The only other library that comes close to competing is the one built by the Dark Fae King.
I don’t know how much of the Druid history was documented and collected, but if there’s anything, I’ll find it.
I’ve never given a thought to how Druids might have acquired power. At the time, it seemed natural, like an evolution of species, but over the years, their power lessened, and others, including myself, easily dismissed them.
Some of what I thought must have shown on my face because Cormal laughs derisively. “Masters of their own demise. Unwilling to share power with other humans, they isolated themselves, only marrying and reproducing with other Druids. Today, they’re almost extinct.” He exhales slowly, his hooded eyes concealing his thoughts. “If you discover the truth, let me know. I’m sure the few remaining Druids would like to know their heritage.”
Druids are known for their secrecy. Guess he hasn’t lost that trait. Probably the foundational cornerstone of his criminal empire. Looking at Cormal, I realize he’s worried. “You forget how long I’ve existed. I know more than you can possibly imagine but care little for it. Your past is your own. Besides, you’re a long way from your roots now, aren’t you?” I smirk, referring to his immortal status.
He nods sharply, the only sign of gratitude he’ll extend.
I rub my chin. “Tell me. What language did the Druids speak?”
He arches an eyebrow in response. “A variety of languages, depending on their origins, but the common one was Gaelic. They didn’t speak Viridian.”
He knows the language of the spell. That actually doesn’t surprise me. Cormal’s thirst for knowledge is an extension of his thirst for power.
