Call of the Kings Read Online Free PDF

resident astounder around.’
    Tara leaned against the Presidium stone as she considered the old wizard’s words.
    ‘D’you think there are venefici in Ireland, specifically in the area where we came from?’
    ‘I have no idea.’ Twilight smiled. ‘And it could be argued that if there is such a person in your former area, they should have put right the injustices at the Devil’s Pit anyway. There is only one way to find out.’
    ‘When are we going?’
    ‘No time like the present,’ he said. ‘Hold my hands.’
    The three of them spent a couple of days inquiring around the settlements of the West of Ireland for news of any venefical presence. In Cork, the port where Katre and Tara had embarked on the Celtic Lady for Bristol, they received suspicious looks from a number of inhabitants when they asked the question about anyone with special powers of sorcery or magic. Clonmel was the same and in Limerick they were directed to a dirty old hermit who lived in a small cave outside the town. Apart from having no aura or skills in the enchantments, the old hermit was also spittle-spraying, screamingly, and utterly mad. In Tralee they asked a local monk, who made the sign of the cross at them and scuttled away casting fearful glances over his shoulder, and Killarney folk just smiled knowingly and nodded but didn’t offer any further information. They concluded that this part of Ireland didn’t have a veneficus unless it was someone who didn’t practice or maintained a very low profile due to the hatred of any form of heresy.
     
    ‘There is our old hamlet. It’s called Skellighaven,’ said Katre later from high in the clouds over the small clutch of hovels in the trees near the coast. ‘Named after those two islands out there called the Skelligs.’ She pointed to two shadowy blue islands rising from the sea about eight miles offshore. ‘The big one is called Skellig Michael and the other one the Small Skellig.’ Her finger followed the rocky coastline. ‘And over there is Jonnie Jump’s old hovel, where we lived for the last six months we were here.’ All that remained of the old place by the side of the evil-smelling bog where Jonnie had taken his final whoop and jump were blackened stumps. It had been burned to the ground, probably because Katre and Tara had lived there.
    ‘And this must be the infamous Devil’s Pit,’ said Twilight as they moved over a steep bay with the waves pounding and smashing far below into the jagged rocks, throwing spray high into the air with the force of the collision. Just off the shore the treacherous currents coiled and whorled like whirlpools, drawing sand, shells, and broken rocks out into the Atlantic with its strong tidal undertows.
    Tara pointed to the hill overlooking the hamlet. The monastery stood out gray against the mid-morning sun. There was a small crowd gathered outside the monastery entrance.
    ‘Something’s going on,’ said Twilight. ‘Let’s see what it is.’
    Staying invisible, Twilight took them to a point in the air over the crowd.
    Standing on a wooden box so he could be seen and heard, and flanked by several of his monks, the abbot was addressing about fifty locals. Seeing the abbot forced an involuntary shudder from Tara whilst Katre pointed out her mother and former husband, his bald head covered by a big, floppy hat. The abbot kept the hand with no fingers pushed firmly up the baggy sleeve of his brown cloak. With his other hand he held up a small brown book.
    ‘And so I say to you that both Patrick Delaney and his wife, Nell, are heretics,’ the abbot intoned. ‘They have been caught worshipping pagan images that are against the teachings of our Blessed Saint Columba and whose word of God we adhere to here. There is only one punishment for such deeds, good people, and that is . . .’

    He placed the hand with the book to his ear. ‘The Devil’s Pit for ‘em,’ Kate’s mother screeched loudly. That set others off. Most vociferous among