Scribed by Jari

Spring 1319AD

The new year began with the usual depressing dampness that has been the case recently. All save Terentius were present at the council meeting and I explained that he had gone to speak with Holy Isle about our discovery of Hadrianus’s hiding place.

I’d barely begun my tale of all that had gone on during our trip to Hibernia when I, and a couple of others, felt the Aegis being breached. There was some initial confusion, punctuated only by Pyrrhus’s apparent intent to cast every single one of his potentially useful spells until I shouted at him to get down to his sanctum and check where the Crown of Madh had been hidden. He saw the sense in this and hurried down. I followed him, pausing on the stairs a little way above the basement, lest something or someone really dangerous be down there. I heard Pyrrhus loudly incanting the Vision of Heat’s Light and then footsteps coming my way. I hurriedly ran back upstairs to the Great Hall where I found Naevius rounding up grogs. I shouted for him and Pyrrhus to get to wherever they had hidden the Crown. Clearly my warnings about Hadrianus’s likely intent had not properly sunk in with my sodales.

Meanwhile, the erstwhile thief, having failed to find the Crown where they had thought it would be had pressed on up to the council chamber where Branwen and Theoclea still were. Moving swiftly and decisively, Terentius, for it was he, strode in invisibly and grabbing Theoclea by the chin to make eye contact with her, used ‘Posing the Silent Question’ to learn where the Crown now was. Ignoring the presumably somewhat shocked magi, he hurried on up to Naevius’s sanctum.

Anyway, Pyrrhus ran upstairs too. I tried to follow but there was now a mass of people crowding into the narrow stone staircase with Naevius seemingly having sent half the fucking turb up there. I managed to slip through as best I could only to hear a thud and some loud swearing from Pyrrhus as he slipped and crashed down several stairs, almost taking the lead grogs with him.

To his credit, Pyrrhus recovered quickly and made his way inside Naevius’s sanctum, only to see the warm shape of a figure climbing out of the window and disappearing out of his line of sight before he could get off a spell. He raced to the window but as he peered out, he realised the downside of his spell for there were more than a dozen figures hurrying around the courtyard and it was impossible to tell which one was the thief. He tried shouting an order for everyone to lie down but while some complied, with the confused situation, pre-existing strict orders in times of alarm and the way sounds die beyond a certain distance here, enough people carried on as to make the command useless.

He climbed out of the window and used Rise of the Feathery Body to lower himself to the ground. There he made his way towards the gate, catching sight of a figure departing over the top of it but again too late to target it with a spell.

Branwen had by this time made her way outside by the simple expedient of going down rather than up the stairs and out through the Great Hall. She and Pyrrhus continued their pursuit, though as I now stood by the empty hole in Naevius’s floor and peered out of his window, all seemed lost. With the Crown gone so too seemed any faint hope we might have of somehow stalling or ameliorating the apocalyptic infernal plague that creeps ever closer to us from the East.

Setting aside my momentary despair, I took to the skies with Wings of the Soaring Wind and set off for our ship to try and get it moving before Terentius could get there and escape swiftly back to Ireland. Thankfully I didn’t have to find out what would have happened if I’d been on the ship when Terentius arrived. As he reached the Severn, a little way ahead of Pyrrhus and Branwen, who had doggedly, or rather, wolfishly, pursued him through the forest, he transformed himself into a seal and started to swim down the river. He had however reckoned without the covenant’s long-time ally, the Lladra.

The river rose around him, grabbing at him and dragging him beneath the surface and buffeting him in an attempt to get him to drop the crown, which he held clasped between his teeth. By now, Pyrrhus, Branwen and I were down by the riverbank, I having spotted the commotion in the river as I flew past. Pyrrhus naturally flung some bolts of flame at Terentius and the Tremere was saved by a combination of the unpredictable violent buffeting of the waters and alo Branwen’s bold, and somewhat reckless, positioning of herself between Pyrrhus and Terentius. I confess I would not have gambled on such an act causing Pyrrhus to stay his hand but it did. Meanwhile, Terentius had held onto the crown as best he could but was no match for the power of the Lladra in her element and dropped the crown. Thereupon the Lladra grabbed it and bore it away from him. As Branwen dragged the unconscious body of the seal out onto the bank, while still in wolf form herself, the Lladra, in her more usual form of a woman-shaped mass of water, glided gracefully towards the bank where Pyrrhus and I stood. She offered me the crown and I gratefully took it up.

Pyrrhus and I then had an angry row as he insisted that I give him the crown, he feeling that it would be best protected in his custody. Possessing an alternative view, I flatly refused and something of a standoff ensued. Things eventually calmed enough that we agreed to walk back to the covenant together, albeit in an air of great suspicion of the other’s motives. After a few hours, we were back in the Great Hall, discussing what had gone on. Naevius quickly led out a company of grogs to recover the unconscious seal.

Eventually, everyone was back in the covenant and we discussed what had happened and what we should do next. It was agreed with mercifully little argument to bury the Crown in the centre of the floor of the council chamber for now. As for Terentius, we would have the Captain and several strong men hold a hooded Terentius down until he was awake and we could ascertain whether or not he was of his own mind again. With a respect for the liberty of magi that speaks well of the man, the Captain asked for a vote of council before proceeding with such restraint. However, after all magi not then in the form of half-drowned seals voted in favour, he was happy to proceed.

We had to wait about an hour before Terentius’s form returned to that of a grumpy-looking human and he coughed up an impressive amount of river water. He was allowed to take a seat in his chair and gave his permission to the Captain to blindfold him. I asked him for the full story of everything that had happened since Hadrianus surprised us at our camp in Hibernia. He said that there were some bits that he could not remember but he would do his best.

As Hadrianus had appeared a little way off us, Terentius’s first action was to shoot an arrow but this passed through him. He said that Hadrianus was not speaking directly to him but rather there was a whispering in his ear. Those whispers said that he would not be able to escape for he was marked. Terentius was not about to take an infernal magus at his word and tried his best to escape but was followed despite using the Seven League Stride and after leading Hadrianus a spirited chase eventually fell prey to Hadrianus’s mentem magics which culminated in an effect akin to Enslave the Mortal Mind.

Terentius then described his interrogation, Hadrianus was apparently very frustrated that his plans had been thwarted. He knew that once word reached the wider Order, magi who were puissant enough to kill him would follow soon after. He claimed that he had sought the Crown to defeat the pestilence and said that it would take time to unlock its power and figure out how power was diffused across the different Treasures of Britain. Unsurprisingly, his next question to Terentius was where the Crown now was. Before he released Terentius, he instructed him to lower his parma and then whispered into his ear. At this point, Terentius said that his memories are hazy but that there was no plan in his mind then to get the Crown. However, when he made a decision contrary to such, he found it changing to fit a scheme to retrieve it. He said that he had initially intended to return to the covenant with me on our return from Hibernia but then his mind changed such that he would pretend to go to Holy Isle.

He said that he knew where he was supposed to take the Crown once he had it, to one Brother Peter in St Dogmaels in Cardiganshire. Once the Crown had been handed over, he was to kill himself. He had chosen the council meeting as the best time to get into Pyrrhus’ sanctum as it was the one time when he would reliably not be in it.

Terentius reluctantly agreed for me to examine him using Sight of Active Magicks and Sense the Lingering Magic, such customary reluctance being a little encouraging to me that he might be himself again. I could see a very powerful Rego Mentem spell with Hadrianus’s sigil but there was also something else there. Something entirely non-hermetic. I had an odd sensation of the light fading and seeing a pair of dark eyes watching from his left shoulder. As I watched the eyes seemed to blink which was most disconcerting. It’s worth noting that it was the left ear that Terentius heard whispers from Hadrianus in. Branwen used her Sight to look at it further and while she could still perceive a lingering gloominess she could see no extant presence there, merely a shadow of what had been. Terentius insisted that Hadrianus had said that he was marked and that as Hadrianus’s lips had moved he had heard the words so formed in his left ear.

This then must have been the reason why Terentius caused a breach of our Aegis when he entered the covenant, though this of course indicates that the infernal spirit, for infernal creature it must surely have been, must have been of greater than the eleventh magnitude. So why did it leave Terentius? Could it have been something to do with the Lladra’s attack? Whether simply drowning out the sound of the whispers or some magical property of the Lladra’s powers in the Severn? History suggests that such powers can remove the touch of the infernal, namely the events surrounding the Great Flood of 1160, when magi of this covenant sought to flood the infernally corrupted ground at Lydney with the involvement of the Lladra. While that ritual went awry and the flooding subsequently devastated much of the Dean, it did appear to have removed the taint at Lydney.

Terentius noted that the instructions he had been given were limited, presumably to minimise the risk of causing sufficient internal conflict within his mind and thus breaking the enchantment. He also said he sensed an urgency from Hadrianus and he believes that he will not linger long waiting for delivery of the Crown.

There then followed a typical Severn Temple debate about who would be best to go to Holy Isle to inform them of all this. I won’t bore you with the tradionally tedious back and forth but suffice to say that in the end Pyrrhus proposed that I go with Terentius. Pyrrhus, Branwen, Naevius and I all voted in favour and the motion was duly carried.

So, laden with vis and a lingering edginess around Terentius, I set off with our hopefully now trusty-again Tremere! Instructing the ship’s captain to go as fast as he could, we pulled into that covenant’s harbour in just one day. Cyrillus was on duty and we explained to him why he perhaps should best hesitate before freely granting us entry. He quickly fetched Geddyn, who, on being appraised of our tale, called for McKeidh. The sense of twilight was palpable about that old magus but he seemed as sharp as ever. He stared at us with his customary piercing gaze and casually called for the gate to be opened, saying “They’re fine let them in. The shadow whispering in his ear is gone.”

Once inside, in more relaxed surroundings, which is to say sitting on a chair with a glass of wine rather than standing on a clifftop track outside a magically enhanced fortress with who knows how many weapons trained upon you, we told the full tale. Terentius permitted McKeidh to read his mind and he appeared to use a not entirely hermetic Intellego Mentem spell to do so. He declared that Terentius had been under the influence of a powerful demon, which was capable of using extremely subtle infernal magicks to bend his will to its tasks. Something that is very hard to detect unless you know specific arts.

Jari’s private journal
It didn’t seem appropriate to ask which specific arts though I would dearly love to know!

As we had suspected, this was why Terentius didn’t harm any of us, the demon deliberately chose to avoid giving non-essential commands that could jeopardise its hold on him. McKeidh said that he thinks the lead to Saint Dogmaels is genuine and immediately the conversation turned to how we might use that to get to Hadrianus. Terentius estimated that he would have needed four to five days to get the Crown by land, thus giving us two to three days from now.

McKeidh warned that the demonic entity involved was of at least the twelfth magnitude and that he thinks it likely that it is Hadrianus who serves it rather than the other way round. Cyrillus suspects that this is likely the demon behind the Broken Mirror cult and he thought it very curious that a demon of such power would not simply possess Terentius. Intriguingly, he suggested that it might be the touch of the Shining One, which he referred to as an elemental of magic, that could have offered some protection against such. Cyrillus went on to explain that some forms of magic are inherently proof against demons, water elementals for example, which also have no souls. Demons may attack such creatures but have no power over them. Similarly, demons can kill but not corrupt true faeries, only mortals or faerie-blooded mortals. Cyrillus added that this is why Geddyn has been such a boon companion to the hunt for the UnNamed House and that merely the touch of such elemental magic may make demons hesitate.

I was curious as to why McKeidh thought that Terentius had been marked rather than me, especially given my scrying magics seemed to have drawn me closer to Hadrianus than he. McKeidh said it was likely simply that while the touch of the faerie offers no defence against the infernal it makes interactions less predictable.

Terentius was obviously quick to volunteer to help and given he is on covenant service. McKeidh asked whether I had the sense to return home. Naturally I said no. McKeidh said that he had always thought as much so at dawn the next day we set off in our respective covenant ships. We made good time to the nearby port of Saint Davids and waited. We were joined by Tiberius on the next day. The flambeau said that he thought this might be McKeidh’s last outing, so close is he to his Final Twilight. If we are able to take battle to Hadrianus, then McKeidh will take the fight to the demon while Tiberius, Geddyn and Terentius will go for Hadrianus.

Jari’s private journal
I was not unhappy with this plan, being on hand to observe and to have a magus in command of the ship during the fighting was deemed useful service so with luck as I would get to see the battle without hopefully getting torn apart or similar.

That dusk, Geddyn flew down onto our deck and reported that a ship from Hibernia had called in at Saint Dogmaels and two people had headed from it up to the Abbey. He discussed the plan for following the ship when it departed, which essentially involved him using water elementals to follow it subtly and then closing on it with both our ships when it was out in the middle of the Irish Sea. We received word that the enemy ship was leaving some six hours later and off we set! Our captain activated all the magical items onboard that could aid our speed and we sped through the dark, choppy waters. We sailed on through the night and then, as dawn broke, caught sight of the Holy Isle ship and moments later, our quarry.

Geddyn and Tiberius weren’t about to let our enemy get the first attack in and soon a thin streak of fire lanced out from the Holy Isle ship, burning into the sails. Tiberius did similarly from our ship though, to my somewhat inappropriate amusement, his bolt of flame missed. However, Geddyn’s second did not and soon the enemy ships sails were well ablaze and it began to slow.
We then had a swift and alarming reminder of just why McKeidh asked if I had the sense not to come along as Races-the-wind reported that he could feel his paw tingling, which always foreshadows something bad. The ship suddenly lurched as though something very big had just struck it below the waterline and we began to list. The captain headed below with the ‘An Loinge Slan’, a carved piece of driftwood that keeps water out from a hull breach so that repairs can be effected. It must have done the job for, while we still listed to the starboard, things did not get any worse and we were able to continue to close on the enemy ship.

As soon as we closed within a quarter of a mile, close enough to see figures on the deck, Tiberius took to the air. As he did so, our sails suddenly ripped as though as great clawed hand had slashed them and we slowed. The Holy Isle ship must have had more potent protections for I saw no sign of damage upon it as it swiftly closed the gap on our foe. With aquam magics pushing us along, we continued to close at a much slower rate and I cast a spontaneous Creo Herbam spell to mend the sails as best I could.

Then the skies, which had been relatively quiet, with little other than thin grey cloud, suddenly erupted in flashes of fire and lightning as the Holy Isle ship moved alongside the Hibernian one and the battle proper began. As I watched great gouts of destructive elemental magics rain down on the deck of the enemy’s ship, my attention was drawn to the Holy Isle ship as a crewman was suddenly seized by some invisible force and brutally rent in two. There was an answering flash of white fire from the stern of the ship which for a second revealed the outline of a monstrous demon with night-black wings.

We were now within less than a hundred paces and Terentius, ever bold, apported onto the stern of the burning Holy Isle ship. With his uncannily sharp eyes, he saw something in the middle of the ship, which was being repeatedly struck by flame and lightning from the skies above and added his bow to the wave of attacks upon it. After a couple more volleys of fire, I just about heard Tiberius shout “I think he’s down”. Naturally, this didn’t stop their attacks immediately as our martially minded sodalibus were wisely set on a ‘take no chances’ policy. I looked back at the Holy Isle ship and saw crewmen either diving overboard to escape the infernal death that was stomping down towards the back of the ship where McKeidh sent wave after wave of white fire against it.

As the great demon neared its target, I hurriedly shouted a command to our steersman to hold our distance and quickly contemplated my options if it were to slay McKeidh and thence fly over to the Severn Star. Frankly none particularly encouraging came to mind. So it was with fervent self-interest that I watched the nightmarish creature’s staccato progress, episodically limned in white flame so bright that it almost hurt to look at. The deck was awash with the blood of those unfortunates who had not seen it or been quick enough to react as it finally reached the stern. A desperate arrow from Terentius passed clean through it, as did a bolt of lightning from Geddyn. I held my breath before a great explosion of eldritch white fire burst from the back of the boat. I saw McKeidh for an instant, wreathed in a tornado of white flame, which with one final effort he directed into the gaping mouth of the creature as it bent to consume him. There was a final violent detonation as it hit and then, suddenly, all was silent and still, the only sounds the creak of wooden decks and the slap of waves upon our hull.

The combatants let their Veils of Invisibility drop and landed back on their respective ships. Geddyn calling in vain for McKeidh amidst the blood and viscera strewn all over the deck of his ship, while Tiberius briefly returned to the Severn Star. He told me that the spells that had been thrown back as he and Geddyn attacked had had significant power, though neither magus appeared greatly affected. He then flew over to Geddyn and put an arm around him, a clear sign of how closely he has been working with Holy Isle these last few years.

Even Terentius’s keen eyes could find little on the Hibernian ship save piles of roughly human-sized heaps of charcoal. I did however note the name of the ship, a single-master called the “Preachan”, which I think is Gaelic for ‘crow’. Tiberius gave Terentius the charred remains of what may well have been Hadrianus’s head. I cast Sense the Lingering Magic upon it and amidst the glare of elemental magics spotted a Auram effect which had the sigil of the subtle sound of church bells, that of Hadrianus. It appears more than likely that he has indeed been slain which marks a great victory against such a longstanding foe of the magi of Severn Temple!

All in all, apart from the obviously great loss of McKeidh, things went about as well as they could have done given the foes we faced. That said, given my time over I would perhaps choose brown trews rather than leaf green ones when facing demons of such magnitude.

We bade our sodalibus farewell and turned the ship around to limp back to the safe harbour of Chepstow where we left the Captain to arrange repairs and made our way back to the covenant. As we resumed our council it was strange to think that such significant events had taken place and it was but the sixth day of the year!

Branwen asked for a formal ratification of the vote to keep knowledge of the Crown’s location solely with members of our council and this was duly passed unanimously. There was further debate about Steffan, the potential new spymaster from Minaxia. There was more debate about how he could possibly be worth the money she had demanded, even though as I tried to remind them that was just her opening barter. Anyway, we have agreed to delay a decision until the end of the season while Theoclea checks what funding she might be able to assist us with.

Pyrrhus promised not to tell any members of Cliffheart covenant anything about Glencoghlea or what had happened to Terentius, then I, finally, got to tell the tale of our adventures in Hibernia.

The journey across the Irish Sea was uneventful and we were able to land apparently unobserved, save perhaps for a shepherd or two, on a pebble beach a few leagues North of Wexford. From there, Gaines’s directions proved true and we made our way along the westerly Wexford road before taking the Northwest fork and up along an increasingly windy track through lush green lands, all seemingly free of any aura.

As we reached where he had told us where the covenant lay there was nothing there. However, I sensed something curious and using my ability to see through the glamours of the fey saw that there was a great illusion shielding the covenant from mundane eyes. We were challenged somewhat aggressively at first by men with drawn bows but after I answered in latin, being careful to clearly pronounce the word “magus”, they relaxed a little and called for a magus. He turned out to be a genial old soul named Eoghan, a Merinitan with hair was like autumnal leaves.

Eoghan welcomed us into Glencoghlea, despite the dire warnings from his somewhat nervous rabbit familiar, Mira, who had perceived that the blood of unseelie winters flows through my veins and warned him to beware my cold heart and icy wiles! Fortunately, he seemed thoroughly unperturbed by this, saying only what a happy coincidence it was that we should have come at this particular time. I couldn’t help but exchange glances with Terentius at this as we entered. However, I soon relaxed when he explained what he meant. Eoghan has long had a strong friendship with the “Maiden of the Wood”, Brigid, the local ruler of the summer court of wood. It is of course highly debatable whether one can ever truly be said to be friends with such inhuman creatures but that was what he believed. He said that she had become troubled by a change in the tenor of the earth when the wind blew from the East and spoke of a “terrible darkness” that was coming. She had made the decision to leave through the Silver Gate in their woods and invited him to come with her, which being a soft-hearted old man who was close to final twilight and was clearly more than a little in love with her, he had gladly agreed.

As the last remaining magus in Glencoghlea, the rest having perished in the templar attack at Durenmar, this was why he was so pleased to see us for it meant that he could hand over care of the covenant and its folk to other magi.

I had long pondered what Glencoghlea and its surrounding might be like, most such imaginings involved dark woods filled with hostile unseelie fae, and a decaying fortress occupied by twilight-twisted and paranoid old magi. Even in my most optimistic moods I never conceived that it would turn out to be a pleasant stroll through a green and pleasant land to a relaxed settlement occupied by a friendly old man who wished to give us over the covenant and all its vis, books and other contents!

Jari’s private journal
I’d write there’s a lesson here somewhere about not letting one’s fears about what could be stop you from doing what is actually eminently achievable but that would just make it easier for Terentius to drag me out on missions that are all-too likely to be every bit as deadly as I fear!

Eoghan introduced us the steward, Seelus, and he showed us round the covenant. There were perhaps a dozen men in the turb and maybe twice that number in servants and various family members and assorted hangers on. Terentius told him of why we had come and Eoghan was happy to discuss Hadrianus, who he confirmed had been at the covenant many years ago and had had a free hand in dealing with local mundane interactions. Much as with Antonius in the earlier days of Severn Temple, the rest of the council of Glencoghlea were only interested in faerie and magical affairs and so were only too happy to let Hadrianus do as he wished locally so long as it kept all mundane problems far from their door.

We were given full rein to use the library and after an initial investigation set about a systematic search. There was a quick and friendly certamen to let the arts decide who got the more interesting job of reading the covenant journals and who got to catalogue the library. Modesty does not permit me to record the victor.

Going back through Hadrianus’s journal entries proved disappointing. They were very functional and mundane, clearly if he was doing anything more interesting or potentially questionable, he was being very careful not to mention it. With the lack of any interest from other magi, no one sought to dig deeper into any matters mentioned. There was no mention of either the Abbey of Saint Joseph or the Nunnery of Saint Denis, the sites that we knew to be associated with the infernal from investigations by magi from Severn Temple in the 1260s.

We spoke a little more with Eoghan, pressing him for whatever small details he might recall. We got directions to the Nunnery, which is to the Southwest near a place called Darradur and the Abbey, which is on the coast, a little way from Wexford. Eoghan had not heard of the “Sons of Mayon”, though in truth I’m not sure if we pressed him whether he’d even know that there was a mundane war going on in Hibernia currently. He did however note that Irish legends spoke of a “Mayon” as a champion of some sort. Eoghan also said that he was 176, which would make Hadrianus, if he still lived, about 130 years old.

He wrote out two separate wills, one granting us the covenant and the other all mundane and magical property therein. Terentius, shrewdly realising that it would likely be legally very difficult to claim ownership over a different covenant in a different tribunal to the one we live in, suggested such to ensure that any legal challenge to the former would not invalidate our claim to the latter.

We spoke to some of the local guides and learnt that the Nunnery had burnt down a generation or so ago and was naught but ruins. One man, who originally hailed from Drogheda, which lies to the North of Dublin, had heard of the Sons of Mayon. He said they were a group of outlaws and mercenaries and nothing but trouble. He said that his cousin had argued with one and had been murdered by them. Mayon himself was apparently a local chieftain near Drogheda, in the early 13th century. He had refused to bend the knee to the English and had openly rebelled against them, which unsurprisingly made him something of a local hero. However, his actual ways of fighting hint at something darker and less heroic, slitting throats, poisonings and so forth. All in all, a perfect fit for the sort of men who might be tempted into a diabolic cult.

Then, as the day of the Autumn Equinox dawned, Eoghan set out on his final journey. Terentius chose to stay behind but this was something that I felt I had to see so Races the Wind and I accompanied him. There were some touching scenes with the covenfolk as he made his way out of the covenant, it was clear even to this cold heart that he was much loved by the people here. He then cast one last spell to create what he proudly informed me was a faerie trod which would take us directly to where we wanted to go. It was he said the result of much experimentation. Perhaps because I was feeling unusually sombre at the knowledge of what was soon to be forever lost or maybe my time in these warmer isles has thawed me, but I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I had been gifted the ability to do so relatively easily.

Anyway, we made it to the glade without any difficulties and it was unsurprisingly very reminiscent of the Nynniaw’s court. There were the dark centaurs known as “The Hunters of the Wood” who glowered suitably at me, along with small humanoid fey from the court of dark earth. All faeries thereabouts had been invited by Brigid to travel with her. Brigid herself had the usual perfectly symmetrical features and wore a silvery-white gown. She invited all to pass through the Silver Gate saying that “The Shadow that comes cannot be allowed to enter the Eversummer so all gates will close”.

Then, one by one, the faerie left. Eoghan and Mira were last, as with a brief nod to me the old Merinitan passed through the Gate, leaving Brigid and I standing alone in the glade. She fixed her beautiful but alien eyes upon me and invited me to travel with her. I declined as politely as I could. She showed no emotion but simply turned and gracefully stepped through and the Gate closely slowly but irrevocably behind her.

In an instant the world changed. No longer were Races and I standing in a summer glade but instead in the middle of a damp autumnal forest. Although I bear the faerie no love, the world will be much the poorer for their passing. There is little enough wonder and delight in it anyway. But what to do but squelch our way back through the muddy forest to the covenant and set out hunt for Hadrianus’s trail?
Terentius had had enough of poring through old books and was itching to get out and on the hunt. We set off first for the Nunnery with a local scout, Jeremy. We were able to find the ruins easily enough but there were no signs of either tracks or lingering magics. We looked around for any sign of any underground chambers but could find only an old collapsed cellar so we decided to move on. One thing did strike me as a little odd. The land was clearly good farmland but it had not been rebuilt by the Church. Why not? Some folk memory of foul deeds here?

The Abbey was more of a trek and as we passed a little way from Wexford, sticking to the forested hills inland. We could see that an Irish flag of some sort was still flying over the castle and there were steady streams of people trying to get in. Clearly the English armies could not be very far away. The Abbey itself was walled but much smaller than Tintern. It had a large central stone building and cloister, with a separate church. The nearby fields looked only partially harvested, presumably in gathered a rush to gather what people could be fleeing for the safety of Wexford. We had learned from the journal that Hadrianus had become a monk here in about 1258 so we snuck in at night to see if we could find any trace of him or the infernal. However, once more, all seemed normal. There was a consistent Dominion aura throughout, even in the crypt inside the church.

There was now no alternative but to give in to Terentius’s pathologically eager desire to travel North to Dublin to try and find the Sons of Mayon. This time we were guided by one Padraig, the native of Drogheda who had told us of their history a couple of weeks ago. We were able to travel safely North to Dublin along various remote coastal roads without encountering any English outriders and managed to get close enough to be able to look own over the city from a nearby hill. The town was flying Irish flags and was so full of Irish soldiers that even Terentius baulked at trying to infiltrate it. We carefully circled round and headed on towards Drogheda where Padraig said his brother lived.

Drogheda was similarly firmly held by Irish soldiers concerned enough about English spies that they were questioning everyone who entered and, in most cases, asking for people in the town to come and vouch for them before they would be admitted. Padraig agreed to go in and speak with his brother. We waited a little anxiously in a copse not too far from the town gate, wondering whether it would be Padraig or an irate party of soldiers who would return to us there. Padraig however proved as good as his word and returned next day with some news. His brother had been called away to serve in the Irish forces and so his sister-in-law had somewhat begrudgingly vouched for him. He said that the main Irish army was overwintering in Dublin and were focusing merely on harrying the English supply lines for now.

So we pressed on into the wilder country that lies to the Northwest of Drogheda. If the Sons of Mayon were still extant they would likely be hiding within the great hilly forest that extends for several leagues in all directions. It took several days but eventually we, well, Terentius, found a recent campsite and from there, a trail left by half a dozen or so armoured men. We were able to follow that trail to some old partially ruined buildings, which appeared half set into a hillside and reminded me uncannily of a covenant. With Padraig left behind at our base camp and, taking great care now, made our way as carefully and stealthily as we could to the treeline surrounding the settlement. If this was the home of Hadrianus or some magus of the UnNamed House, it could well have an Aegis of the Hearth so merely stepping too close to the wooden stockade could alert its inhabitants. I suggested we first look for any signs of an apportation spot and in a clearing not too far away we found somewhere that looked a likely spot. I could not at first find any signs of magic with Sense the Lingering Magic but after Terentius cast Circular Ward Against Demons I was able to find a trace of magic with the sigil of the subtle sound of church bells, Hadrianus!

The confirmation that Hadrianus had apported here within the last 10 years and had used infernal magics to cover his tracks, we had enough proof and decided to leave and fetch help. We made it back to our camp without incident but found that Padraig was not there. We managed to find an arcane connection to him and using Summon the Distant Images saw that he was being dragged unconscious through the woods by two burly armed men.

Hindsight being what it is, I can now see that we might have been better choosing to fly swiftly to the apportation spot or similar to try and get ahead of the men but we instead chose to gamble that we could move faster that two men burdened with an unconscious man in the thick woods. We failed.

When we reached the treeline overlooking the settlement again there was no sign of him. After a quick discussion of whether we should try and sneak in to get to Padraig before he revealed what he knew of us, I recast Summon the Distant Images but instead of a vision of Padraig I felt my vision dragged within the hill and saw instead a pale, shadowed face who demanded to know who I was.

I quickly broke the spell, warned Terentius and we apported back to our camp. Things then got a little confused. Almost as soon as we appeared there and immediately started to gather our things to depart, Hadrianus appeared at the edge of the clearing. Terentius loosed an arrow at him and I took to the skies with Wings of the Soaring Wind.

Of course, I wished to save my own skin but I had no art or item that could realistically hurt such a powerful infernalist and hermetic magician of at least 130 years. It was also of vital importance that at least one of us escaped to ensure that the location of Hadrianus’s hidden fortress could be revealed to those with sufficient power to put an end to him. I confess I didn’t look back at all but instead put all my focus into flying as swiftly as I could away, first in a random direction until I calmed down a little and then I headed South, staying aloft for as long as I dared.

I made it back to Glencoghlea in good time and warned them as best I could about the possibility that an infernal sorcerer might follow me. It was still several weeks before the ship would be back and not wishing to starve to death in the wilds I arranged with Jeremy for me to live in a nearby cave, away from the main covenant, lest Hadrianus come looking for me. It wasn’t a foolproof precaution, but I hoped it would be enough. Eventually, I judged it was time to head to the coast and I made my way cautiously there, taking up position off to the North of the main beach, watching invisibly from behind a shingle bank. On the day the ship arrived and dropped anchor in the small sheltered bay, I saw, to my surprise and consternation, Terentius walking calmly down the beach to await the row boat. Has he escaped? Was he under the thrall of Hadrianus? Was it even Terentius? What should I do?

In the end, I decided to take my chances and approach him, driven mostly by the thought that if I didn’t catch the ship now, with the war likely to rage on for some time in this area, it could be weeks, months or even seasons before I could return home and frankly I just don’t have the patience to wait that long.

So, I dropped my invisibility, quietly cast the Wizard’s Sidestep just in case, and walked round the beach, taking care to crunch the shingle noisily so as not to surprise him. He didn’t seem too surprised to see me which made sense as by his baggage I could see that he’d been to the covenant. I decided that the fact he’d not tried to hunt me down in my cave was a good sign and asked him what had happened. He said that Hadrianus had overcome his parma and using mentem magics to enslave his mind. Hadrianus had told him that he wanted the crown to defeat the great pestilence but that with his attempt to reclaim it having failed he no longer had the time to stop it and was going to flee to a more remote part of the world. Hadrianus added that he had been betrayed by the Pope and so had thrown his lot in with the templars.

I asked whether I could check his mind for any further spells that Hadrianus had cast on him and he agreed. I could not however find anything save for a rego mentem spell to compel obedience, even after an eight magnitude Circular Ward Against Demons had been erected. It was still a nervous crossing and I didn’t sleep much. Just after we landed at Chepstow, Terentius announced that he should go first to Holy Isle to let them know of what had happened and off he flew. So it was that I made my way back to the covenant and a much-needed drink.

After I’d finished my tale and we’d gone through the vis and suchlike that we’d brought back, Branwen pointed out that, under the Charter, the vis we had returned with was legally ours not the council’s. However, Terentius and I both agreed to donate both the vis and the books we had come back with to the council. Sadly, this generous gesture precipitated an unseemly row about the order of vis distribution even though it was the common method of distributing such. Naevius was unmoved by Pyrrhus’s protestations.

Jari’s private journal
Pyrrhus never changes! My favourite part was when he pretended to be thinking about Branwen missing out on rare forms of vis and she then openly mocked him for such nakedly self-serving pretence!

He came to my chambers afterwards, asking if I had any ignem vis I would trade. I said that I had none but invited him to stay for a drink. He then asked again about his faerie ruby and Turold’s broken sword, in particular whether I was interested in them. Not wishing to become in anything that might direct Gofannon’s ire against me, I politely declined but said that I would guide him to Gofynnwy if he wished to try to make a deal with him. He then said that he was considering breaking them down for vis which gave me some pause and I asked that he inform me before he did so, for I fear the world has lost too much faerie magic already, troublesome as those items may be.

Races-the-wind was somewhat indignant afterwards that I had chatted in a friendly manner with Pyrrhus after everything he has said and done. Perhaps a dog analogy wasn’t the best to use to explain it to a hare, but I think it is a sound one. If there’s a vicious dog near where you live that has been known to bite people when off the leash, it’s surely only sensible to give it a juicy bone or two now so that next time it gets free it’s less likely to be you who gets a chunk taken out of your leg or worse.

After the veritable frenzy of activity to start the year, the next few weeks were thankfully uneventful, with nothing of note until midway through Spring when Gaines arrived at the covenant with the Bonisagan Suficius, who had come to speak with Theoclea and while she was not in the covenant, he joined us for Gaines’s report.

Of mundane news, there was a great famine across most of the part of the world that labours under the yoke of Christianity. Increased rains have led to a ‘great blight’ as the harvest has been poor for a second successive year. Although not as severe as on the continent, food shortages have been reported in England so we will need to step up our food reserves to ensure we are not affected.

Of hermetic news, Gaines brought the somewhat disturbing news that the death of Hadrianus has not yet been confirmed. This is primarily due to the death of McKeidh but curiously, no sign of any sigil has been found on either Tiberius or Geddyn, who were clearly struck repeatedly by significant magics from the individual on the Preachan. As we pondered this troubling development, Pyrrhus attempted to lighten the mood by suggesting that we could ask another powerful demon for confirmation. Naturally, he was referring to the demon of Kings College Gloucester. There was a surprisingly amount of debate on this subject before people eventually came to the inevitable conclusion that no information given us by a demon could be regardless as firm proof.

I asked Gaines and Suficius whether anything was wrong. Gaines hesitated before saying anything, looking over at Suficius as he did so but the old Bonisagan was giving nothing away.

The season progressed with Terentius heading to Chepstow to check our ship for sigils. He found some of the remnants of the old sail and damaged hull timbers but could see no overt sigil upon them using Sense the Lingering Magic. However, Terentius’s senses are sharper than most and he was able to discern faint signs of singing on both the edges of the tear in the sail and the cracks in the planks, as though from a heated blade. The obvious conclusion to this is that both were the work of a demon, though if one were close enough to do so with a melee weapon then why did it not press the attack further? The one positive he could glean was that the repairs to the ship were nearly complete and it should be fully seaworthy again in a week or so.

Jari’s private journal
Terentius came to see me just before the end of the season about the three items that we had received as part of other effects of Glencoghlea. I confess I had been hoping he had forgotten about them, for I had taken the wand when I fled that covenant. I was thus somewhat cagey when he asked about it but to my surprise and delight he said that he intended to donate his share of the items to the covenant and thus was happy to accept the lantern and the shield while I keep the wand.

Summer

All magi were present as we met for our Summer council. Naevius began by reporting that food prices had gone up a little but there were as yet no overly concerning signs, though clearly the steward has been tasked to keep a close eye on such and to keep our stores as full as possible.

Theoclea said that the English armies had pushed deep into Ireland, taking Wexford amongst other major settlements, though the Irish still hold Dublin. The King’s position is apparently as strong as it has ever been. More locally, she said that the new Baron of Bridgewater, Cecil, should be very helpful to members of the Order of Hermetic Scholars for he credits them for saving him and his barony. She had also heard grave rumours about very severe food shortages in Paris. She also had obtained the princessly sum of 3000d from the crown’s coffers which she has generously donated it to the covenant. This immediately brought up the subject of Steffan, our putative new Spymaster. Terentius agreed with my assessment of the man’s abilities, saying that he thought he was very good and that we should try and close a deal with Minaxia. Naevius, trying not to grit his teeth too much, said that we could offer her 3000d by reason of him lacking any magical talents and his young age. All agreed save Branwen, though given she thinks 300d is a barely imaginable sum of wealth it’s not hard to see how she might baulk at paying so much money for someone so unproven.

We now have the vis agreed to pay Cyrillus for the books he agreed to scribe for us so Branwen will convey this to him next time she visits Cad Gadu. Pyrrhus will be off to Cliffheart this season, while Terentius, Naevius and I will go to Glencoughlea.

Theoclea said that she would visit Blackthorn at the start of the season; however, the reason for the back and forth between her and Suficius turned out to be disappointingly pedestrian, no great conspiracy just a longevity potion.

So it was that four magi headed down to Chepstow to take our ship across the Irish Sea once more. This time I took the companion gifted to me by the Tegid Foel, let us see how Gwynneth Fan and I get along, he seems a little tediously literal but frankly I’ll forgive that if he saves me from things trying to kill me, as has been happening a little too often over these last few years. The sea was pleasantly calm as we sailed over, first heading to Cliffheart. I was curious to see what exactly the great Flambeau fortress looked like and in truth it didn’t disappoint, I certainly wouldn’t want to be in any mundane army that attacked it, nor a magical one come to that as Naevius described how it had been made by a Verditius magus many years ago. We didn’t tarry long there given the unpredictable and violent nature of the inhabitants there. In fact almost as soon as Pyrrhus had set foot upon the quay orders were being shouted to cast off again! As we hastily left we could see that Pyrrhus was being given an honour guard as he strode up the steep cliff path. We agreed that we would return for him, three days before the end of the season.

It wasn’t long before we were back in the little bay that Terentius and I had recently departed. As we made our way cautiously through the countryside, we saw a burnt-out village but no signs of any soldiers or other indicators of the war raging across the island and we reached the covenant without incident. The covenant itself was strangely quiet, the main gates slightly ajar. A quick search revealed that it had been abandoned in a hurry with no obvious signs of fighting. The keep was still locked and other than the food having been taken nothing appeared to have changed, save the absence of any covenfolk. Was it the English armies who had scared them away?

That night, as we set careful watch, we heard a loud cracking noise from the forest. It sounded like something very large was making its way through the trees some ways off. From the watchpoint, the forest appeared shrouded in mist and it was then that Races’s paw started to quiver. The mist began to seep ominously into the courtyard. I could see no sign of faerie or ancient magic about it, for whatever that was worth. Terentius, bold as ever, took to the skies to investigate further. The summer forest, while now sadly wholly mundane, was thick with foliage so it took him some time to find the source of all the noise despite its size. He reported that it was an enormous dark-coloured wyrm, some 40 paces long. Legless or not, such a creature was likely if significant might, the eighth magnitude at the very least.

Naevius was, not entirely unreasonably, greatly scared by this report but we reassured him by setting out a plan to fly away to a ‘safe’ point outside the curtain wall to the East of the covenant were the beast to attack though we pointed out the absence of any destruction that we would expect to see if the creature had attacked the covenant directly. As I sit and write this now, safely back in the covenant, this just goes to show two things. Firstly, that we all too readily assume that the worst will not happen, and secondly, that Saint Patrick was a lying sack of shit.

In any event, the wyrm headed off away from the covenant, with the mist and rain following it and we all breathed a sigh of relief. All perhaps save Terentius, who after a couple of hours sleep, took off again the next morning to try and track it down to its lair. The forest was eerily silent, with no birdsong or any rustling in the trees of the myriad of small creatures that normally inhabit such untamed places. He was able to trace its tracks to the steeper land to the Northwest of the forest where he found an “oddly circular” gaping hole in the side of one hill.

When he returned with this news, we set about trying to uncover why such a creature had not posed such a threat to the covenant before. There was no mention of the wyrm’s hole in list of covenant vis sites but going back further in covenant records revealed a tale of the “terrible Morghann”, a great wyrm whose very gaze poisons the blood and whose breath was venom. The beast was said to lie in a deep sleep beneath the earth, occasionally rousing to wander the nearby lands only to be sent to sleep by Brigid, presumably the same faerie lady of the Summer Woods who had departed for Arcadia last time we were here. At this point, Naevius had to have a little sit down. I feigned bravado but as soon as I could crept out and took an arcane connection to a place near our safe point so that I could apport away quickly if needed.

As dusk fell on the next night it wasn’t long before Races’s paw started to twitch again. This time when we ascended to the watchpoint atop the keep we saw to our alarm that the wyrm was a mere thirty paces inside the treeline. Its flank as it slithered through the tree with surprising ease was so large as to be like a wall of dark scales. Once again it was accompanied by a thin ground mist but despite its proximity it slithered away without coming any nearer.

As the days wore on, we set about trying to collate what spells we could take from the library, focusing on those which were unique or rare. However, some three weeks or so later, by which time we had gathered a fair pile of promising scrolls and books, Races’s paw started up its ominous thumping again. This time we were not to be so lucky.

As the Morghann made its way by the covenant it briefly paused to raise its great serpentine head out of the mists surrounding it and looked at the covenant. Gwynneth Fan who had the double misfortune to be on watch and to be very bad at hiding was clearly seen by the creature for his blood veins began to blacken and he felt his skin tightening painfully. The great wyrm then sinuously turned towards the covenant with surprising grace and speed.

Not unreasonably, Gwynneth Fan fled the creature’s approach, for its sheer scale meant that even the strongest man would have no realistic chance of besting it. This unfortunately meant that the Morghann pursued him into the tower. I watched as it came closer, its head at least as high as the tall tower. The foul breath of the creature, for it seems that was what the ‘mist’ was, started to creep through the windows and sickened one of the grogs. I thought I’d try and mimic how Brigid calmed the creature with song but my singing was met only with a blast of poisonous wyrm breath. Everyone’s a critic…

To my great alarm, I felt my skin begin to burn as my parma collapsed, shortly followed by the tower roof and our morale. We fled for our lives down the narrow spiral staircase, our skin and eyes stinging from another exhalation of poisonous breath. Terentius was just ahead of me and I could see that he was also attempting to cast a spell as he ran but to no avail amidst the falling masonry and pain from the wyrm’s breath which billowed all around us again. Panic spurred me on, for I didn’t know how much more poison I could take and as Terentius hesitated slightly coming down into the first floor I dodged round him and fled desperately down the final set of stairs. I made it to the ground floor ahead of the poisonous breath whereupon I was able to quickly gather my thoughts and apport Races and I to the agreed point. Thankfully Terentius and Naevius soon joined me there, the former apporting, the latter flying.

From a safe distance, we could see the great wyrm coil round the tower and crush it utterly. A great plume of dust, smoke and pulverised stone erupted as the tower fell in upon itself. For a moment I could see naught else but then I saw Gwynneth Fan and the grog Griffri emerge fleeing for their lives. Gwynneth Fan was slightly the quicker of the two which saved his life, for Griffri was first stricken by the creature’s dread gaze and he stumbled as his veins blackened and was then caught by its breath, collapsing just short of the covenant’s main gate. The wyrm slithered that way and it seems likely devoured poor Griffri for we found no sign of his body later. To our great relief, although it lurked around the ruins of the covenant for an hour or so, it then turned tail and headed back into the forest.

Terentius tried his best to dig down through the rubble, using the gift the Shining One has granted him to destroy a great swathe of rubble but to no avail. The scrolls, parchments and books were too badly damaged. With no reason now to remain and the very real threat of the wyrm returning the next night, we decided to leave and await the return of the ship close to the shore. So it was we arrived back home a little before midsummer.

I had a chat with Branwen and she said that there had found no sign of any change in the aurae in the woods. However, she had found something else during her wanderings. She’d spotted a slightly odd-looking patch of rock at the back of Raegwulf’s cave and had used Ruaridh’s hammer to dig into it. There she had found about 10,000d in gold pennies and 1000d in silver! The coins bore the head of King Aeddan from 60 or so years ago and she generously donated them to the covenant, noting that they were probably covenant monies. The coins seemed untarnished suggesting they were newly minted when given to whoever buried them, most likely a payment from the Crown.

My return meant that I had run out of excuses not to visit the Court of Wood, which was probably not a bad thing but I made sure to check that my potential options against vengeful centaurs were fresh in my mind before Races, Eanfled, Gwynneth Fan and Branwen and I set off, all with gifts at the ready. I conjured a trod and before long the circle of trees with bright light spilling out from between them lay before us.

Branwen’s arrival caused quite a stir and there was a notable ripple of excitement amongst the faerie folk gathered there. Even Jago seemed taken aback. Nynniaw emerged as usual from the great tree, smiling with his small sharp teeth as he greeted everyone. Thankfully the gift giving went smoothly this time. Nynniaw was even content to have Gwynneth Fan there, saying that it was rare to have one of his blood in the glade but if he came in peace then he was welcome. My gift this time was a shamelessly fawning song that I had written for such a visit “Under the Greenwood tree”. Once I had finished, Nynniaw said that such sparks of creativity were one of the things that he will miss for the end of his time in these lands was near. Branwen too had done her preparation thoroghly for she gave Nynniaw a Y-shaped silver twig, something that dates back to the days of Idris and the refounders and Nynniaw remarked what a fine gift it was.

Jari’s private journal
Nynniaw added that the gift she bore was finer still. He said that the tree had moved on from Llandolwyn and that it was an old power. It had been a long time since Llandolwyn had visited his court but when he last had that Nynniaw had been cautious for Llandolwyn was very old and powerful. He said that such power could do great harm as well as great good before referring to her as “sister”! Nynniaw said that mortal intents were rarely a good guide to what they end up doing but he sensed that she had not yet embraced the power and he said that it was good that she was more patient than Llandolwyn. Nynniaw said that with such old power, which is to say the Crann Bethadh, its roots run deep into the earth and that it was here before him.

Nynniaw said that he, I and Branwen should speak more of the threats while the others partied. As we stepped to one side, he said that he was not sure whether wizards or faeries had any defence against the coming threat but that the roots of power in this world are very deep and were so even before Nynniaw came from the Eversummer. It is such of the oldest of powers may provide a defence against this threat. He said that Gofannon has said that time runs short and Nynniaw himself senses the strengthening of the taint upon the air. How long that actually gives us is unclear for as Nynniaw noted “mortals see time more closely than us”. He relayed something else interesting from Gofannon, that the defence of Eversummer itself relies not with the Lords of the Fae but on whether ancient powers can turn back the threat. By this he meant the deep-rooted powers that give rise to the source of magic. He suggested we speak to spirits of his kind who have spent the most time with mortals, such as the Morrigan, for it was she who first sent us warning of this threat. He cautioned us to consider which aspect of that entity we speak to for she has many faces and some are more given to life than others and thus the advice they give may change depending on which aspect we engage with.

Nynniaw said that the faerie are tied to the realm of Eversummer and if any were to be left behind after the last Silver Gate shuts, such as Llyr were he to hide in the deep ocean, then he did not know what the consequences for them would be.

Some of the oldest powers bound and formed the treasures of Britain and those are expressions of the song of the land. Their substance is less important than what they represent. He said that Gofannon may be right that the treasures could help. Just taking up the Crown will not be enough and Nynniaw said that he can’t yet see the path in which the Shadow is turned aside. I thought his use of the word “yet” was encouraging and maybe he picked up on this for he then asked us whether we thought there was hope. I said yes and he asked to be told of such hope. I paused to gather my arguments and Branwen answered quickly instead. She said that there had been a consistent narrative of hope from several powers and that she had been given gifts as part of that hope. Nynniaw agreed with her, saying the fact that it had happened so soon after Llandolwyn was unusual. He wondered aloud whether mortals would understand enough to wield such ancient magics, adding though that he though of mortalkind as a friend, though only a select few could wield such ancient powers and fewer still wield them wisely. It will only be mortals wielding magics older than he who will have the power to stop the Shadow Plague.

Jari’s private journal
Branwen no doubt counts herself in that select few! Whatever her ego, and it is becoming evident that it is quietly at least a match for my overblown sense of self, let us hope she is right for it may well be that she will be one of those who will have to stand against the Shadow.

Nynniaw said there was no power in the faerie that could stop it and that many faerie have left because they do not see the hope that he does. I made the point that the infernal plague, being from a source that is inherently imperfect and corrupt, cannot be infallible, though as has been noted before, faeries’ understanding of the infernal is sketchy at best. He said that he won’t leave willingly but that he cannot leave the Silver Gate open when the Shadow arrives. He will leave it under the very last but no later.
Intriguingly, he finished by saying that if one who has the rights to the Crown doesn’t want it then we can either wait for her to grow or find another brow for it can be claimed again if its heir will not bear it.

Jari’s private journal
Oh how Branwen’s eyes glittered as he said that!

With that I collected the rest of the gang who, happily, had limited themselves to the sort of faerie feast fun and frolics that don’t involve near disaster and we returned to the covenant. I used what was left of my covenant service time to check in again on our spy network. Bridgewater is back to normal and while there has been a slight rise in bandit activity with so many fighting men away for so long, it is not a big problem at the moment. Food prices are notably up, especially in London, but our supplies here remain good.

Autumn

The year’s third season dawned mild, damp and dreary. We discussed what we knew about the wyrm, estimating from the ease with which it flattened our parmae that it must be of at least the 10th magnitude in power. I also made sure that those who might be tempted to pursue a more belligerent approach to the creature were fully aware of its sheer physical size, being at least 10 feet in diameter!

Conversation then turned to the treasures of Britain once more. Theoclea said that Hypathia had told her that once, when a sickness lay upon the land and the King, Myrddin had gathered them all to work great magics to save both but he failed and the King, the legendary Arthur, died. Myrddin then hid them, never claiming them for himself. Hypathia had thought that the treasures wanted to be found and that Myrddin reportedly thought that finding them could change the fate of the land. Theoclea added that Hypathia had also thought that the stone circles shared a heritage with those treasures. I asked who might be able to shed more light on such. Perhaps Arcanus had left notes in Blackthorn or with his filia Phaedra? Branwen said that she will write to Prima Ex Miscellania and Hypathia will ask after any such notes when she is at Blackthorn helping Suficius later this year. On a related note, Terentius said that he will write to Primus Tremere, who still maintains contacts in the East, to see if he has any intelligence on the Shadow Plague.

Attention then turned to Pyrrhus who had returned from the Hibernian tribunal meeting. Pyrrhus reported that Aloysius had been elected Praeco though the tribunal consisted of just six magi. Four from Cliffheart and two from Circulus Ruber, an old Verditius named Valens and his filia. Though our best estimates put the total number of magi in that tribunal at less than 20. The first order of tribunal business was the matter of court wizards acting in Hibernia. Given that the magi accused were not present, the trial was relatively short and Pravia and Tiberius were found guilty, while Eremon was acquitted. Pravia and Tiberius were thus renounced by the tribunal and a Wizard’s March declared against them. Pyrrhus said that Archimagus Numerius would formally inform the Senior Redcap in Blackthorn of this decision. Pyrrhus said that it was testimony from Irish servants and wards cast by the two magi that had given the tribunal the evidence to find them guilty. He added that it was the “duty of wizards to execute the Wizard’s March”.

Unsurprisingly, Terentius was very angry and said that House Flambeau needed putting down and its proper Primus restored. This made Pyrrhus in turn angry. Fearing what actions might come next from Cliffheart, we asked what else had been discussed and Pyrrhus said that his house had its eye on the activities of an Ex Miscellanian maga called Dagda and had called for an investigation of her. Terentius’s anger had thankfully turned to quiet fury and the meeting was wisely concluded at that point. Terentius and Branwen took the ship, heading out west to their respective Domus Magni.

Jari’s private journal
It was quite clear that Pyrrhus was not telling us the whole story. I wonder what he left out? I’ll wager it was whatever he was there to do or speak of, likely as part of the evidence against Tiberius and Pravia. Why else ask those pointed questions a few seasons back?

On a happier note, my books from Carrion Moor arrived late in the season. I am most curious to see what secrets they contain!

There was one last curiosity before the season ended. I had spoken with Branwen about checking whether there was any magic or fell trace on the continuing rains that risk dragging England into the same dire harvest failures that plague Europe. I was barefoot following some absurd dispute with Eanfled whose origin I do not recall and Branwen’s consor, Gwendolyn, a nosy but hitherto inoffensive sort, offered to go and retrieve them for me and I said she was most welcome to try. What I didn’t expect to find when I returned to my sanctum was a faerie fox in a state of high agitation, an emotion I had never seen from him before. I asked what had happened and he said that he would not speak of the foul thing that Gwendolyn had asked him to do. I did not sense anything greatly amiss but it is odd and something to keep an eye on in any future dealings with her.

Winter

The weather was still unseasonably warm and wet when we met and this was our main topic of conversation. For now, our food sticks remain good but we discussed the how we might use creo herbam magics or similar in the future if things look dire. Theoclea said that she had been to Blackthorn and that it has books on geography and history that include lore on henges in the Great Library. The rest of the meeting was strangely quiet given the anger and animosity of the last meeting.

Jari’s private journal
After the meeting I caught up with Branwen for a quick gossip about our two warring sodalibus and remarked on how all seemed quiet. “I suppose you’re right” she said and I left it at that but on my return to my sanctum I wondered at that, for it seemed an odd phrasing in hindsight.

At the midwinter, Races came to me, very excited. The Moon had sung him a lullaby but then a cloud had passed before her face, giving her the briefly aspect of a terrifying skull before the clouds blew past and she was her usual lunar loveliness again. Curiously, after that, the weather was a little more normal, turning clear and frosty and staying that way until the year came to a close.

At this point, those of you who aren’t interested in my musings and speculations may wish to stop reading. I would urge you to read on for it all relates to the existential threat that has occupied much of what I’ve recorded over the last year but the decision is of course yours.
I’ll start by offering up a glimmer of hope for those of you still reading that this isn’t all going to be a meandering self-indulgent ego trip. While I doubt I’ll ever be described as modest, I’ve become more than a little bored with my own egotism. I used to derive amusement from looking down from what I saw as my lofty intellectual perch but now, as well as boring myself, which is criminal enough, it’s also clear that believing you’re inherently smarter than others is extremely dangerous as it makes you complacent. Given how alarmingly close I’ve come to death on several occasions over these last few years, I can ill afford such.

And so, on to my musings. The death of Hadrianus, assuming he is actually dead, seems to bring to an end a chapter of one of the great stories of Severn Temple covenant, that of Gwion Bach, also known as Taliesin. His role in it first came to our attention in 1250 with the murder of Aeddan, formerly Marius, and the theft of the Crown of Madh (brought back into this world by Theodosius). This ultimately resulted in the raid on the templar stronghold of Tomar and the deaths of Archimagus Astrius, Husam and Lysimachus.

It reminds me that as big as events seem to us now, we are ultimately in thrall to storylines that are much bigger than we are. Maybe it is my heritage that makes me think so but I prefer ‘skeins’ rather than stories for such implies that the they themselves are part of a greater picture, which it is almost impossible to discern from an individual skein. I should really write ‘impossible’ not ‘almost impossible’ but my old vanities remain hard to shake. We must accept that we are part of a bigger picture, one that we may not be capable of seeing, as alluded to by such powerful entities as Gofannon and the Shining One. Certainly from my own close-up encounters with such powers, my own physical and mental nature was as a candle in the wind when faced with some of the forces they interacted with.

To be clear, I do not hold to the fatalism of the Norse that all fate is already fixed and that we are bound to follow such. I believe, or perhaps more accurately, I choose to believe, that we can shape our fate. Although the influence of entities significantly more powerful than us means that our fate is unlikely to ever be entirely in our own hands, that does not mean that we are powerless and cannot affect change. Such is clear from the fact that the fey seem to need human free will to change the outcomes of their eternal stories and the gods are nothing without the choice of their worshippers to worship them.

The epic Norse edda ‘Fafnismal’ warns that struggling against fate is “as pointless as rowing a boat against a fierce wind” but it is also obvious that such tales also encourage the status quo where poor farmers stay poor farmers and rich nobles stay rich nobles. So where am I going with all of this?

All the visions and divinations that have guided wizards of this covenant and beyond clearly come from some knowledge of the future that somehow can be accessed in the present, reading along a skein to continue my analogy. There has been much speculation about where they come from and what heed magi should pay them but it is undeniable that they have oft-times proved true and indeed helped the covenant.

The great powers that haunt this land, whether faerie, magical or infernal clearly have greater senses than us to see at least some of what lies backwards and forwards in time. Aspects of some of these powers, the triple goddess in this island’s mythology, the three norns in the land of my birth, are said to be able to see and shape past, present and future. Note that other similarities include the presence of a ‘tree of life’ or ‘world tree’ whose roots penetrate deep into the very fabric of the world.

So what are these powers and how do they relate to us and our ‘fate’? On re-reading Tiarnan’s “Speculations on the Mystical Powers” I think the possibility that Tiarnan suggested that the pagan gods and faerie powers lie on a continuum rather than in distinct groups is likely the best explanation. I certainly hold to his reiteration of Merinita’s warning “beware of immortals”. The interactions of the faerie and pagan powers with the infernal is the one area that gives me pause as to the nature of their relationship. Our experience at Severn Temple suggests that some of the pagan powers are vehemently opposed to the infernal, almost as profoundly as the Christians, yet the faerie and the infernal mix like oil and water. Which is to say that they can interact but there seems something fundamentally different to their natures. Perhaps something as simple yet profound as faerie’s lack of a soul? What exactly that is a debate for another day.

Moving on to the key matter at hand, that of the Shadow Plague that threatens to destroy all things touched by magic or faerie. Why does Hell want so badly to destroy magic? The templars who destroyed the Grand Tribunal and butchered so many magi were driven by demons pretending to be angels. Also, many of the major plots within the order seeking to destabilise it from within, such as the Schism, the Lich conspiracy within House Tremere, Corpus Domini and so on, all infernal and some at least driven by the great lords of Hell themselves by all accounts. The Code does not list the infernal as enemies lest it worsen things but history very much suggests that the infernal has waged a constant covert war upon the Order. But why?

I do not have any answers yet-I can sense deep sighs of you who had persevered this far-but we must continue to strive to make more sense of what is going on or we are more likely to be slaves to our fate and stripped of our magic.

I would dearly love to be able rediscover the sensation of almost flying through the sea as a dolphin, as I once did as a young magus, but it will take many seasons of study and with all else that is going on or threatens us in the future, it seems like a sad and indulgent waste of time. For all Bonisagus’s undoubted genius in codifying and formalising a system of magic such that hermetic magi have flexibility and range far beyond almost any non-hermetic wizard encountered, it can be a trap. There will almost always be some technique or form which we can improve to work some interesting new spell, whether it be for travel, war, investigation or just personal interest. Hermetic magic’s great weakness is for many magi its greatest strength. The very flexibility that makes it so puissant also means that magi are discouraged from taking a novel approach. Not to mention the rigid mindset and world view that hermetic training and magic imposes on you with its limitations and fixed categorisation of closely related powers.

I’m sure the Bonisagans may speak of all that they have achieved but reading back through the near 250 years of this journal I don’t see any significant changes in the way hermetic magic works. The magic we wield is essentially no different to that of the refounders of Severn Temple. Recent events have shown just how powerful hermetic magicians can be when they act together but equally history shows us that the greatest threat to hermetic magicians is other hermetic magicians.

This is at risk of becoming a rant with no firm conclusion but I feel it is important to get all this down on vellum. For myself even if no one else. We are faced with a threat that could end magic and we all seem far too calm about it! Back to my talk of us all-too readily assuming that the worst will not happen because it has not happened in the past. A clear logical error there if ever there was. Despite all that has been said about how hard it will be too stop, given the inherently imperfect and corrupt nature of the infernal, it cannot be impossible to stop. Here is my conclusion then. Or rather a plea. We all need to act as though our lives depend on stopping the Shadow Plague from the East. Because they almost certainly do.