Author Debra Killeen

With power comes responsibility.  But who is responsible for the fate of the innocent when those with power run amok?

2009 Honorable Mention winner in the Written Art Awards

2010 Honorable Mention winner in the ReaderViews Literary Awards for Fantasy

To purchase:

Amazon

http://www.amazon.com/Legacy-Archbishop-Debra-Killeen/dp/0982060513/ref=sr_1_4?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1275578973&sr=1-4

Barnes & Noble

http://search.barnesandnoble.com/Legacy-Of-The-Archbishop/Debra-Killeen/e/9780982060513/?itm=2&USRI=debra+killeen

Excerpt: 

Edward was seething by the time the three men returned to his private study after their audience with Robert. He indicated chairs for Hugh and Liam then slammed his fist on the desktop.  “A pox on him!  Reginald never –”

“Robert is not his father,” Hugh interrupted. “We will have to make some – allowances – for that fact and then move ahead with plans for the Church.”

Edward nodded, though his expression remained angry. “You are correct. His impudence is difficult to accept, but we shall attribute it to a lack of maturity. The Church was spoiled with Reginald as king. The question now is what do we do if Robert travels to Esterlyn?”

“One of us should be in the company,” Hugh replied smoothly. “I would suggest your assistant, Father Ambrose, but I wonder about the man. He has no ambition.” Edward shook his head. “What about Liam, then?”

Liam was startled. “I should be setting Belgravia’s affairs in order, but if the idea meets with your approval, Edward, then I am willing.” He looked to his superior.

“Belgravia will be fine. I can deal with anything that arises. Yes, you will travel with Robert and make certain he does not disobey any Church laws while he is away. Esterlyn’s Church is nearly as lax as Wyckendom’s.” Edward rearranged some papers on the desk. “There is another matter to attend. Follow me.”

Edward led the two bishops to his workroom without summoning Ambrose. He had had his altar from Belgravia moved to his new residence, and Hugh and Liam stared at the fine marble workmanship for several moments. Edward went to a locked cupboard, withdrew a small key from the ring on his belt, and opened it. He removed a silver dish containing a wadded-up silk cloth.

“I have had no opportunity to examine this ring since Duke Lattimore presented it,” he explained, holding the cloth and carefully unfolding it. “I need maximum protection.” He glanced from Hugh to Liam as he placed the cloth back in the dish.

Hugh withdrew a white linen altar cloth that he handed to Liam. After Liam had smoothed the cloth over the marble surface, Hugh placed purple candles at each corner of the altar top. Edward placed the metal bowl on the altar’s top and began praying to prepare himself. Hugh filled a censer with incense and lit the fragrant spices. He began walking a Circle around the room’s perimeter as Liam took his place in front of the altar, his back to it.

Liam raised his arms and began invoking the archangels. “Raphael before us, guide us in this search for knowledge; Gabriel behind us, accompany us on our journey; On our right Michael, protect us from the evil we seek; On our left Uriel, teach us what we must learn.” Liam waited until Hugh had made three circles before concluding his prayer. “Protected by those on High, we beseech Thee, O Lord God, aid us, for Thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory, forever and ever, amen.” He made the sign of the cross.

Edward and Hugh murmured “Amen” with Liam, and a protective golden-white Circle now glowed around the three men. Liam and Hugh took up protective stances at either end of the altar. Edward unfolded the white silk, revealing the silver ring with its black stone. He passed his right hand over the bowl, murmuring a protective prayer. The ring began glowing with a baleful green-black light of its own, countering the regular pulses of the Circle’s golden light.

With an expression of distaste, Edward picked up the ring and slid it on the forefinger of his left hand. His body went rigid. He felt a searing pain begin in his left hand and travel up his arm toward his heart. He had difficulty drawing a breath. His right hand reflexively began to remove the ring, but Edward fought the impulse. He stared at his arm as he ‘saw’ it glowing with the same hellish light of the ring. As the pain spread to his mind, Edward closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.

An image appeared before his Magic-heightened gaze. The features were little changed from the last time Edward had seen them, despite the intervening years. It took all of Edward’s will to remain standing as he remembered his last, humiliating, encounter with Aldric Smithson.

* * *

Newly ordained as priest two days prior, twenty-year-old Edward packed his meager possessions, planning to leave St. Mark’s Seminary at sunup the next morning. He would travel directly to Belgravia to begin his assignment as the bishop’s assistant. A knock sounded at his door.

“Congratulations, bastard,” Aldric said as he entered the room without waiting for an acknowledgment.

Edward tensed before turning slowly to face him. “I had no more say in my assignment than you had in yours,” he said.

“Oh, I am certain of that,” Aldric spat. “’Twas no doubt your royal father’s influence in the Archbishop’s ear. God’s blood, I hate you.”

Edward flushed with anger. “Get out of here.”

Aldric raised an eyebrow. “Meet me in the chapel sanctuary at midnight, unless you are afraid to face me alone. I hereby challenge you to a Duel. Let the better man prevail.” Aldric turned and strode out of the room, not waiting for Edward’s reply. The door slammed hard on his heels.

Edward had taken a sharp breath. “Are you insane?” he asked, but the door was already closed. The Church forbade Magical duels under any but the most extreme circumstances. Two priests had no business in such an activity. Edward considered going to the Dean, but he knew Aldric would deny the conversation had taken place.

During his walk to the chapel a few hours later, Edward tried to talk himself out of meeting with Aldric. Should they be discovered, they risked losing their assignments, or worse, getting defrocked. Edward had come too far to lose now; he hoped he could talk Aldric out of his intentions.

Aldric gave Edward no chance to talk. He had arrived at the chapel early and was waiting by the altar. He had no intention of fighting fairly; he wanted to kill Edward. He considered Edward unworthy of the sacrament of ordination. Because of his common origins he’d had to fight to be allowed to attend St. Mark’s and study for the priesthood. In his opinion, Edward Fitzroy had everything handed to him effortlessly simply because he was the illegitimate son of the king. Because of their advanced studies, he and Edward had had the opportunity to look at some of the forbidden spells. Since both men were expected to rise within the Church, they would need to recognize illegal spells to negate them.

Aldric sent a flaming Magical sword at Edward’s chest as soon as he sensed the other man at the end of the aisle.

Edward had no time to defend himself. He threw himself to the floor a moment before the sword passed through the air where he’d been standing.

Aldric was beginning his next assault.

Edward crawled behind the last row of pews, breathing hard, frantically trying to think of a way to stop things. He heard a muffled curse, but he kept his head down. “Are you mad?” he called to Aldric. “Killing me will not get you my assignment.” 

“Nay, but you deserve to die for having the temerity to enter the priesthood, bastard. You should never have been born, Edward Fitzroy. You do not deserve the honor to serve the Church.” Edward could hear the loss of control in Aldric’s voice.

Edward shut out the hateful words about his birth. He’d heard many like them since he was a boy. He needed to concentrate on the matter at hand. He searched his memory for any legal spell to render Aldric helpless, but the only ones he could remember required physical touch.

Aldric had walked down the aisle and now turned to face Edward. “Get up, coward,” he sneered.

“No,” Edward said, wondering what Aldric would do.

Aldric kicked him hard.

Edward cringed but said nothing.

“Now, bastard. I will not strike you while you are down.” 

Edward held out his hand for Aldric to aid him in standing. Out of habit, Aldric grasped the offered hand then realized his mistake. Edward’s mind had thrust into his own, and Aldric’s defenses crumbled in surprise. Edward used the mental momentum to propel himself up, and he threw himself at Aldric. Both men fell, but Edward was on top.

Aldric struggled to get out from under Edward and break the mental contact. Edward was searching for his dagger when Aldric shoved him, rolled out from beneath him, and backed off a few feet. Both men half-sat and panted from their exertions.

Aldric had a ceremonial dagger in his hand now and aimed it at Edward. In the close quarters, Edward was able to shift enough to keep it from striking him in the ribs, but it pierced his shoulder. Aldric had added Magical strength to the throw, and the blade passed through Edward’s flesh into the back of the pew behind him, pinning him there.

Edward sensed his own defeat and began praying. Aldric stood and walked over to him. Aldric squatted down and yanked the dagger out, his expression never wavering. Edward cried out from the sudden pain and passed out.