Once, that motto had meant something for the Druids. Another of life’s small ironies, Bremen thought wearily.
“Well met, Bremen,” Athabasca greeted in his deep, sonorous voice. The greeting was traditional, but Athabasca’s rendering of it sounded hollow and forced.
“Well met, Athabasca,” Bremen replied. “I am grateful that you agreed to see me.”
“Caerid Lock was quite persuasive. Besides, we do not turn from our walls those who were once brethren.”
Once, but no more, he was saying. Bremen moved forward into the room to stand on the near side of the great desk, feeling himself separated from Athabasca by more than the broad expanse of its polished top. He wondered anew at how small the big man could make another feel in his presence, how like a little boy. For while Bremen was older by some years than Athabasca, he could not escape the sense that he stood in the presence of an elder.
“What would you tell me, Bremen?” Athabasca asked him.
“That the Four Lands stand in peril,” Bremen answered. “That the Trolls have been subjugated by a power that transcends physical life and mortal strength. That the other Races will fall as well if we do not intervene to protect them. That even the Druids are in great danger.”
Athabasca fingered the Eilt Druin absently. “What form does this threat take? Is it one of magic?”
Bremen nodded. “The rumors are true, Athabasca. The Warlock Lord is a real creature. But more, he is the reincarnation of the rebel Druid Brona, who was thought vanquished and destroyed more than three hundred years ago. He has survived, kept alive by malicious, reckless use of the Druid Sleep and by the destruction of his soul. He no longer has form, only spirit. Yet the fact remains that he lives and is the source of the danger that threatens.”
“You have seen him? You have searched him out in your travels?”
“I have.”
“How did you accomplish this? Did he permit you entry? Surely you must have entered in disguise.”
“I cloaked myself with a magic of invisibility for some of the journey. Then I cloaked myself in the dark trappings of the Warlock Lord’s own evil, a disguise that even he could not penetrate.”
“You made yourself one with him?” Athabasca had clasped his hands behind him. His eyes were steady and watchful.
“For a time, I became as he was. It was necessary to get close enough to make certain of my suspicions.”
“And what if by becoming one with him, you were in some way subverted, Bremen? What if by use of the magic you lost your perspective and your balance? How can you be certain that what you saw was not imagined? How can you know that the discovery you carry back to us is real?”
Bremen forced himself to stay calm. “I would know if the magic had subverted me, Athabasca. I have given years of my life to its study. I know it better than anyone.”
Athabasca smiled, chilly and doubting. “But that is exactly the point. How well can any of us appreciate the magic’s power? You broke from the Council to undertake on your own a study that you were warned against. You pursued the very same course that another once pursued—the creature you claim to hunt. It subverted him, Bremen. How can you be so certain that it has not subvened you as well? Oh, I am confident you believe you are impervious to its sway. But that was true of Brona and his followers, too. Magic is an insidious force, a power that transcends our understanding and cannot be relied upon. We have looked to its use before and been deceived. We look to its use still, but we are more cautious than we once were—cautious, because we have learned through the misfortune of Brona and the others what can happen. Yet how cautious have you been, Bremen? The magic subverts; that much we know. It subverts all who use it, one way or another, and in the end it destroys its user.”
Bremen kept his voice steady as he replied, “There are no absolutes to the results of its application, Athabasca. Subversion can come by degrees and in different forms, depending on the ways in which the magic is applied. But this was true with the old sciences as well. All applications of power subvert. That does not mean they cannot be utilized for a higher good. I know you do not approve of my work, but there is value to it. I do not regard the power of magic lightly. But neither do I disdain the limits of its possibilities.”
Athabasca shook his leonine head. “I think you are too close to your subject matter to judge it objectively. It was your failing when you left us.”
“Perhaps,” Bremen acknowledged quietly. “But none of this matters now. What matters is that we are threatened. The Druids, Athabasca. Brona surely remembers what led to his downfall in the First War of the Races. If he intends to try to conquer the Four Lands once more, as now seems probable, he will seek first to destroy what threatens him most. The Druids. The Council. Paranor.”
Athabasca regarded him solemnly for a moment, then turned and walked to one of the windows and stood looking out at the sunlight. Bremen waited a moment, then said, “I have come to ask that you allow me to address the Council. Allow me the chance to tell the others what I have seen. Let them weigh for themselves the merits of my argument.”
The High Druid turned back, chin lifted slightly so that he seemed to be looking down on Bremen. “We are a community within these walls, Bremen. We are a family. We live with one another as we would with brothers and sisters, engaged in a single course of action—to gain knowledge of our world and its workings, We do not favor one member of the community over another; we treat all as equals. This is something you have never been able to accept.”
Bremen started to protest, but Athabasca held up his hand for silence. “You left us on your own terms. You chose to abandon your family and your work for private pursuits. Your studies could not be shared with us, for they transgressed the lines of authority that we had established. The good of the one can never be allowed to displace the good of the whole. Families must have order. Each member of the family must have respect for the others. When you left us, you showed disrespect for the Council’s wishes in the matter of your studies. You felt you knew better than we did. You gave up your place in our society.”
He gave Bremen a cold look. “Now you would come back to us and be our leader. Oh, don’t bother with denials, Bremen! What else would you be but exactly that? You arrive with knowledge you claim is peculiar to yourself, with studies of power known only to you, and with a plan for the salvation of the Races that only you can implement. The Warlock Lord is real. The Warlock Lord is Brona. The rebel Druid has subverted the magic to his own use and tamed the Trolls. All will march against the Four Lands. You are our only hope. You must advise us on what we are to do and then command us in our duties as we set out to stop this travesty. You, who abandoned us for so long, must now lead.”
Bremen shook his head slowly. Already he knew how this must end, but he forged ahead anyway. “I would lead no one. I would advise on the danger I have discovered and nothing more. What happens after must be determined by you, as High Druid, and by the Council. I do not seek to return as a member of the Council. Simply hear me out, then send me on my way.”
Athabasca smiled. “You still believe so strongly in yourself. I am impressed. I admire you for your resolve, Bremen, but I think you misguided and deceived. Still, I am but one voice and not of a mind to make a decision on this by myself. Wait here with Captain Lock. I will call the Council together and ask it to consider your request. Will it choose to hear you or not? I shall leave it to them.”
He rapped sharply on the desk and the narrow back door to the chamber opened. Caerid Lock came through and saluted. “Stay with our guest,” Athabasca ordered, “until I return.”