‘I have it,’ said Gaise Macon. The room was suddenly silent. All eyes were on the young general. ‘It cannot – must not – be used. To do so would unleash an evil upon the world far in excess of anything Winterbourne would bring.’
‘Then why did they not unleash it?’ asked the Moidart.
‘They couldn’t. We could. The skull is the last remnant of a Seidh lord named Cernunnos. He seeks a return to life.’
‘It is a magical relic, no more,’ said the Moidart. ‘Winter Kay used its power. So should we.’
‘It is more than a relic, Father. Believe me. The spirit of Cernunnos lives. I have spoken with it. I have also listened to the Wyrd, who brought the skull to me. Cernunnos transcends evil. He cannot be allowed to return.’
‘She gave you the skull?’
‘Yes, Father.’
‘How did she acquire it?’
‘Winter Kay gave it to her at the Wishing Tree woods.’
The Moidart shook his head. ‘Perhaps you can tellus why he would have done something so monumentally stupid?’
‘Cernunnos possessed him. He forced him to it. The god needs Rigante blood to live again. That is why he seduced Winter Kay into coming north.’
Slowly and carefully Gaise explained all that the Wyrd had told him of the history of Cernunnos. How he had once plunged the world into war, and of how his own son, Rigantis, had beheaded him with a golden sword. The officers listened in silence. When Gaise had finished Kaelin Ring spoke. ‘I do not know anything of Cernunnos,’ he said. ‘I do know the Wyrd. When she speaks it is the truth. If she says this god cannot be allowed to live, then he cannot be allowed to live.’
‘I was not talking about him being allowed to live,’ said the Moidart. ‘Winter Kay found a way to use the magic. Why can we not do the same?’
‘For the answer to that,’ said Ganley Konin, ‘perhaps we should look at Winter Kay. Look at the work of his Redeemers. Treachery, murder, massacre, burnings. They are vile men and their deeds shame us all. Would we become as black-hearted as they?’
The Moidart interrupted him. ‘We don’t have time for theological debates, or philosophical discussion on the nature of evil,’ he said. ‘Men have been killing each other for centuries without need to blame skulls or relics. However, since my son is adamant about the need to avoid using this weapon let us move on to more practical matters. How do we, with thirteen thousand men, set out to defeat the enemy?’
For another hour the debate raged, and when it ended there was no clear plan. Gaise had said little during the discussions. As the officers left, the Moidart called out to his son to remain. When they were alone he poured him a goblet of wine. ‘What is it you didn’t say?’ he asked.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Damn it, boy, you are the war leader here. You made that plain when you returned. Yet you have just sat in near silence while lesser men wittered about impossible plans and ludicrous tactics. What is it? Tell me.’
Gaise looked at his father, and took a deep breath. ‘Cernunnos wants me. He needs me to take the skull and in some way accept it into myself. He will then have my body, and will have returned.’
‘Why you?’
Gaise was silent for a moment. ‘I looked into his face, Father. He and I have the same eyes. We are like . . . brothers. Perhaps that is why.’
‘This talk of evil and good is beginning to bore me to tears,’ said the Moidart. ‘You say the skull cannot be destroyed. So, if they defeat us they will have the skull anyway. If this creature is truly some ancient god then he will find some other man with Rigante blood. It is inevitable.’ The Moidart poured himself a second goblet of wine. ‘Though why someone with the powers of a god would want to rule men is another matter. I would have thought there were better ways for a god to spend his time.’
‘He wants to eradicate mankind, Father. He believes we are a plague upon the earth, that we are – and will remain – savage and unbridled, and that, given time, we will destroy not only ourselves but the world.’