Operation Barghest - Part One

Or what happens when man weaponizes the fae.

This is a story that takes place in a shared universe a friend of mine and I came up with. There exists in the British government a Ministry to deal with the magical and supernatural. The operations of this Ministry, known also as Le Croix du Sangre or The Cross, are largely unknown by the population at large. Here is a peek into one of their missions. This will be a multipart story.

Douglas looked at the fair lass across from him with an eyebrow raised. “Fae turned into weapons? You’re daft.” He reached across and picked up the bone china tea pot. “More tea?”

Rebbecca Brenner shook her head. “No, thank you, Dr. Telford. I understand you find it difficult to believe, but believe me you must.”

Photo by K. Mitch Hodge on Unsplash

He poured a bit more of the strong blend for himself, the last of the pot, and reclined with the dainty cup in one hand. It looked odd, as thick as his fingers were, but he managed to sip it with an air of finesse. “I must?” He grunted. “I find the idea of a woman reporter hard enough to swallow. You’ll forgive me Ms. Brenner, I’m an old fashioned gent and not afraid to say it, but for you to sit there and tell me that the Ministry is taking Fae and turning them into some sort of automatons for the destruction of our fellow man is not only silly on its face, but impossible. I’m something of an expert in the area, as I’m sure you know.”

She nodded. “Of course. Which is why I’ve come to you. Who else could get into their research facility and help me expose what they’re doing? Not only are you an expert on the Fae, but you were in service to the Ministry for scores of years, if what I’ve discovered is to be believed.” She picked up a biscuit and nibbled at it delicately. Disbelief lurked in her green eyes. “Though that doesn’t look possible.”

“Flatterer.” He knew it was true though. The only sign of age on him was thick white hair. If it weren’t for that, he could pass as a lad of no more than thirty years. The hair color and his eyes made him stand out. There was a quality to the eyes most people found disturbing, apart from their oddly bright, blue color. He had been told that they looked like they had seen centuries come and go. There was some truth there.

Rebbecca had the capacity to blush, for all of her boldness. He couldn’t help but find it attractive. She looked at the cup in front of her. “I need your help. I can’t do this alone. The truth must get out.” With this statement, she was able to meet his gaze with a confidence that almost made him blush.

“You look for proof for the public’s consumption, and I’m to accept your word alone, so you can find this proof?” He shook his head. “As you say, I worked for the Ministry for quite a long time, and I’m not prepared to believe they would so boldly break the Tam Lin Treaty.”

She nodded gravely. “I know. But these are desperate times and I don’t have to tell you what foolish things governments do in such times.” She reached down into the bag at her feet. “And I don’t expect you to accept my word alone. I needed more than the word of the young man who leaked the information to me.” She pulled out a sheaf of papers and handed them to Douglas.

They were the standard sort of military records he was used to seeing. Parts of it were redacted, but the legible sections indicated their origin was in Castle Cawdor. He knew that the Highland fortress was indeed being used as a research facility by the Ministry. There was no way to tell what it was being used for though, at least not based on these papers alone.

“So you have some blacked out requisitions. How is this supposed to help?”

Her smooth forehead wrinkled in exasperation. “Don’t just look at them. Really look at them.”

He smiled and turned his eyes back to the records. His eyes slid shut and he opened the inner eye he had learned to use in his boyhood. Runes and sigils replaced the boring, bureaucratic smoke screen. She had gotten her hands on a high level record. Even someone with the Sight wouldn’t be able to read it based on the gift alone. He passed his hand over it and intoned a few muttered words. Thankfully they hadn’t changed the cipher recently.

It was a progress report and included a rite used in “binding the Barghest”. That phrase by itself, not to mention the details of the rite, sent a chill down his spine. That particular primitive Fae could shift from humanoid form to a monstrous black canine and was dangerous enough by itself. If you could control it, somehow train it...

His eyes snapped open, practically glowing in the cottage’s dim light. “You’ve got my attention.”

“So it’s real then?” She slid forward in the rickety chair, nearly knocking over the tea service.

“You risked coming here, and you weren’t certain?” His tone was stern but not softer than it might have been with most others.

Crimson rose in her cheeks again. “All of the indications I have so far are mundane. I’m not gifted with the Sight, but I do have a nose for these sorts of things. I’ve talked to some of the locals, and I found a kindred spirit in the Ministry office in London. He’s not willing to go public, but he told me things and gave me these papers.” She gestured at them. “He said it would be enough to get the ball rolling.”

“That it does girl, that it does.” He put the paperwork down and stood, moving to the mantle.The flames drew his eyes in. “I’ll go to the castle and check things out.” His heavy right hand moved to rest on the carved length of wood holding pictures, figurines, and a pipe rack. It crawled like a pale spider among what looked like detritus. He plucked what most would have taken to be the stem of an ornate pipe from the rack. It turned out to be a wand the thickness of a man’s thumb at its base. It tapered to a fine point, ornate carvings along its length, and was a bit shorter than his forearm.

Blackthorn and holly had been twined together and carved so cleverly it appeared to be one solid piece of wood, dark and light racing around it in spirals. He could feel the bas relief animals under his rough skin. He hadn’t used it in more than a decade, but power flowed from it and from him out to it meeting at his fingertips.

“I’m going with you, of course.” She stood and moved towards him, moving carefully in the cramped cottage..

He turned, not sure whether to laugh or yell. He settled somewhere in between. “Bollocks.” In his younger days he never would have spoken like that in front of a lady, but he had no interest in getting on her good side. Well, very little interest at any rate. The more time he spent with her, the more he liked this brash young woman. “You’ll stay here, and I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“No. I will go with you.” There was steel in her voice. “I need to see it for myself. This proof,” she gestured at the papers, “won’t be enough for the common man to see what their government is up to. I need to see it, to take pictures if I can. I won’t be told to sit here and wait and then take your word for what you see. It’s not good reporting.”

He was tempted to freeze her where she was for a decade or two. He could do it. She’d know the passage of time, but age wouldn’t touch her. She could use the time to grow up, not that she wasn’t a mature woman.

He noticed, not for the first time, the beauty underneath her drive. No, not underneath. It didn’t cover the beauty, it accentuated it. Once the combination would have entranced him, but now it was something he noticed only in passing. When he made the deal with Oberon, he’d gotten knowledge and long life, but he lost the ability to love. It seemed a fair trade until she walked through his door. Rebbecca was just the sort of woman he’d dreamed of being with as a lad.

As he watched her, uncertain of how to answer her challenge in a way that wouldn’t drive her completely from his door, a thought occurred to him. Binding and loosing even the more primitive Fae species wasn’t something easily done without knowing their Name. If the Ministry could do it en masse, without that information, maybe they could free him of the bonds encircling his heart. They wouldn’t do so willingly, but he could discover what was going on at Cawdor and use it to his advantage. It would work as leverage or he could simply take the knowledge and use it.

“Douglas?” She was close enough to touch him and looked ready to, her fingers inches from his cheek.

He’d lost track of time. How long had he been standing there gawping at her and wondering about how to use this mission to his advantage? He took her fingers impulsively, holding them in his own rough hand. He wasn’t surprised to feel steel in her grip as she squeezed his hand. There was something in the emerald depths of her eyes that went beyond concern or admiration.

With a grunt, he cleared his throat of the odd tension forming there and worked to clear his mind of any school age notions either of them might have about a relationship. He simply wasn’t capable. His gaze sharpened, and he released her hand. “You go and it may be the end of your life. What’s more important, your life or your career?” He knew the answer even before the question was out of his mouth, but he waited.

“The truth. That’s more important than my life or my career.” She crossed her arms decisively.

Coming from anyone else, the statement might have caused him to laugh. Based on the look on her face, it must have looked like he was going to. He slid the wand up one sleeve, a leather forearm sheath holding it in place. He hadn’t worn the accessory in years, but for some reason this morning he put it on. He extended his hand. “So we’ll go find the truth. I don’t think it will look like the thing you have in mind. I pray it doesn’t. If so, then the Ministry is more than just desperate, its stupid.”

She shook his hand firmly. It practically disappeared in his grip. “I echo your prayers.” She touched the crucifix at her throat. “Either way, it will be good to know for certain.”

They held the handclasp a second longer than necessary. “Return here tomorrow morning, wearing some sensible traveling clothes, preferably something dark in color. It will take us around four hours to get there. I will list you as my personal assistant and we will try to get in the front way. I may be considered a rogue by some, but my name still carries weight. If we have to sneak in then that will be more of a challenge. I must make some preparations for such a contingency. By this time tomorrow night, we’ll have your proof, if it exists, or we’ll be in a stockade. If you’re not here by seven, I’ll go without you. Understand?”

Rebbecca nodded. “Thank you again Douglas...”

“Dr. Telford. Get used to addressing me as such, Ms. Tanner. That shall be your name and my assistant would never use my first name.”

“Of course, Dr. Telford. I shall see you on the morrow.” The pair stood looking at one another for more than a handful of heartbeats, unsure as to how to properly finish their discourse. Their agreement could be construed as treason at the worst. A bond had been forged that Douglas could feel. He knew that it was more than mere emotion. The will to complete this task and the desire to do the right thing at all costs now boud them. If he opened his third eye, he was sure that the room would be filled with spectral light.

Finally, with no words left to say he escorted her to his front door and once it closed behind her, he began to look around the single room he called home. There were a few book shelves and trinkets strewn around. They were all innocuous enough. His wand was the only object of power visible. He walked to the table between the rough couch and chair and pushed it aside. The throw rug went back too, revealing a pocked expanse of dark wood flooring.

He pulled the wand free and passed it in circles, speaking a few words in the language of the Sidhe. Mist rose and dissipated, revealing a square panel. He pulled it aside and removed a chest from the hole. Here was where he kept the only two books of any consequence in his life, along with a few other objects that would come in handy.

With what he needed in hand, he put everything back as it was. He spent the rest of the evening in study and contemplation. There was no one to send a message to and no one he needed to contact. If he failed in his mission, the few things he had of value would lie here and rot and his passing would be noted only by a handful of humans. It was the lonely life he thought he wanted. Peace, tranquility, and time to research were his only companions. It had made him a formidable Magus, in theory. Time to find out if those things had dulled the warrior in him.

TO BE CONTINUED!!!