Betrayer's Bane

by Michael G. Manning

  “Perhaps I should hold her,” he suggested.

  “No,” said Lyralliantha, more forcefully than necessary. “Let me. This is all that’s keeping me together right now.” She looked around, struggling to find something to rest her eyes upon. Eventually she gazed upward, letting the tears run down her cheeks and neck as she fought to keep from shaking too hard.

  After a minute, she added, “We’re going home now?”

  “Yeah.”

  ***

  The walk back wasn’t much more than an hour under normal circumstances, but they went slowly and the trip wound up taking closer to two. When they arrived Albamarl seemed strangely quiet.

  The gate guards were gone. In fact, there was no one visible anywhere, though once they entered the house they found Abby and Sarah sitting together in the front room. Both looked as though they had been crying and Sarah in particular, seemed distraught.

  “Where is she?” asked Tyrion.

  Sarah choked on her reply, but Abby managed to answer, “In the bedroom.”

  They started for it, but Abby cautioned, “Don’t go in there. You don’t want to see it.”

  They ignored her warning. Lyra handed Layla to Abby and then they went in anyway.

  There was blood in the doorway, blood on the floor, and even a small amount on the bedding. It pooled on the floor beneath where Kate’s body lay, as well as under one of the strangers. The second attacker had died a fiery death, and that body hadn’t bled much.

  At first, neither of them said a word as they silently took in the scene, but when Lyra picked up Garlin’s tiny broken body her restraint vanished. She cried in a way that Tyrion had never heard from her before, emitting loud sobbing cries as her chest heaved and her lungs fought for air.

  Tyrion could do nothing for her. Kneeling he stroked the hair from Kate’s cold face. I feel nothing. The words repeated themselves in his mind, and for once they seemed true. He was dead, through and through. Then his eyes spied something clutched in Kate’s hand.

  He pulled her hand over to examine it, immediately recognizing the enchanted crossbow bolt. She had used it to kill the man by the door, and she must have pulled it free to stab the other one.

  Kate had fought with everything she had, trying vainly to protect Lyra’s baby. And it wasn’t enough, he thought, staring at the sadly inadequate enchanted quarrel. I left her here, and this is all she had to use…

  And then the dam broke, releasing a tide of anguish and pain so great that it swallowed him. Tyrion cried and his body shook.

  Lyra came to him, still carrying her dead baby and the two of them held each other as they wept.

  Sometime later, when they had finally fallen silent again, Lyra asked him, “You’re going to do something, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re going to kill them?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All of them?”

  “Everyone that had anything to do with this,” he replied.

  “That includes the Illeniel Grove,” she said matter-of-factly. “You know that, right?”

  He looked up at her with red eyes, “I do.”

  “Good.”

  Chapter 41

  “What do we know?” asked Tyrion.

  They were gathered in the council hall, and for the first time since it had been finished, Tyrion was the one sitting in the seat that had been named for him. Everyone that remained, David, Ashley, Sarah, Abby, Ian, Violet, Piper, Tad, Anthony, Emma, Ryan, Brigid, Lyra, and even tiny Layla, was present.

  They were the only ones left alive in Albamarl and its environs. Ryan and Brigid had slain all the mages that had come from the slave camps, with the exception of those already in ‘storage’ within stasis boxes.

  Emma began, “With certainty, only that eleven of the slaves were turned against us. Eight entered the main house. Six of those distracted Sarah, while two others slew Kate and Garlin. The last three approached Brigid while she played with Inara and Eldin. The two children were slain while she faced them.”

  “No,” interrupted Brigid. “Eldin died before I did anything. I should never have let him get so close…”

  “What’s done is done,” said Tyrion. “I’m not interested in ‘what ifs’ and ‘might have beens’. All that matters now is what we do from this point forward. Does anyone know why the assassins did what they did?”

  “They threw away their lives,” answered Emma. “The only reasonable explanation I can come up with is that a Centyr must have turned their heads inside out.”

  “Did our Centyr mages have any contact with them?” asked Tyrion.

  Ian shook his head, “No. They were kept separate. The only people they were allowed contact with were Piper and myself.”

  “Where are they now?”

  “Dead,” announced Brigid. “I took care of them first.”

  “And the rest of the slaves?” asked Tyrion.

  “Also dead,” responded Ryan. “Brigid and I eliminated them.”

  Tyrion studied Brigid for a moment before asking, “Whose decision was it to kill all of them?”

  Brigid’s mouth started to open, but Emma spoke over her, “Mine. We couldn’t be sure how many of them had been manipulated.”

  He looked at Brigid, “You were about to say something?”

  “Only that I agreed with her, although I would have preferred to do the job alone,” answered Brigid sullenly.

  “It would have been helpful to have saved a few to interrogate,” noted Tyrion.

  “You think I made the wrong choice?” said Emma, her chin firm.

  “I won’t second guess you. Under the circumstances, I doubt I would have been sane. I might have run amok, killing everyone I could find,” he glanced at Brigid knowingly for a second. “Having Ryan put a quicker end to things was probably a better choice.”

  We still don’t know how they subverted our servants, put in Ryan.

  Lyra spoke then, her voice soft to avoid disturbing the baby in her arms, “The Centyr might have sent an agent in among some of the newer slaves.”

  Abby broke her silence, “Ultimately, however, we have no proof of anything, and we have destroyed any witnesses that might have provided proof.”

  “We don’t need proof,” said Tyrion coldly. “This is no court of justice. Are those in stasis still secure?”

  Ryan nodded, Yes.

  “How many do we have?”

  Ryan answered, Seven-hundred-twenty-three, primed for the final phase. More than half of those are Mordan. All have been given instructions on what to do when they are awakened. Another five hundred were put in stasis before them, when we were short of living space. Those are not primed, but given the timing, it is unlikely that they were subverted by the Centyr.

  Tyrion nodded, “And how many Mordan do we have that can be used?”

  Only five, said Ryan. Of those, only Brangor knows the locations that you selected for Emma and yourself, since Jordan did not return.

  “Wake them,” ordered Tyrion. “Brangor can show them the locations first. After that we can make use of them transporting the civilians.”

  Sarah broke in, “The people of Lincoln and Colne aren’t ready.”

  “They will be,” said Tyrion. “I’ve decided to change the planned sequence. When the sky gets dark and the air gets cold, they’ll beg us for shelter.”

  “Is that safe?” questioned Abby, looking concerned. “You always intended to protect them first.”

  Tyrion’s expression was grim, “No, it isn’t. I don’t know for certain how bad it will be. But I do know that the Centyr will be watching us closely. They need something better to focus on. If they see us transporting the entire civilian population immediately after what happened here, they might decide to do something else. I intend to take the initiative before they have the chance.”

  “Let me do the first one, Father,” begged Emma, her face somber. “They started this on my watch.”

  Tyrion locked eyes with her. If a
nyone had been wronged the most, if anyone had the right, it was him. He wanted to do it, but the dark despair that he saw in her made him reconsider. A tense minute passed before he gave her his answer, “You know which one to do first?”

  Emma’s eyes flashed, “I do.”

  “Take Brangor and the other Mordan. Have him show them the other teleport sites first, then send them back,” he told her. “Ryan, you and Brigid will go as well. You make sure Emma doesn’t lose control. Brigid, you’ll make sure they survive.”

  The three of them stood, “Yes, Father.”

  Tyrion stared directly at Brigid, “This isn’t the day for your personal revenge. Kill no one unless it is necessary. Draw no attention to yourself or them.”

  She growled but nodded affirmatively.

  “Take a Prathion with you as well,” he said, addressing Emma.

  She smiled, “I was going to do that anyway.”

  After everyone had left, Lyralliantha asked him, “What are they going to do?” She had never been privy to his plans before.

  “Shake the foundations of the world,” he told her.

  ***

  Was she successful, asked one of the Centyr Elders.

  I believe so, reported Ceylendor. Serrelia’s attack was sudden and unexpected. Three of his youngest children were almost certainly killed.

  Almost certainly?

  Her servants died before they were able to relay the results to her, but judging by the response they must have been successful. Tyrion’s older children slaughtered every baratti in the area.

  Was the correct child among the three? asked the First of the Centyr Elders.

  Yes, responded Ceylendor. The Illeniels took one child out before the attack. Lyralliantha was caring for it, but the child actually belonged to Tyrion’s human mate. We think it was a ruse meant to confuse us.

  Then Lyralliantha’s child was one of those slain?

  Yes.

  Serrelia has done well, noted the First. Have her confirm the deaths before she re…

  What was that? asked a different Elder.

  The ground had jumped, and then the earth shook again.

  ***

  Brigid had been disappointed when they found no one at the hot springs near the Centyr Grove, but she kept her irritation in check. Things were finally happening. Whether it was today or another day, she knew she would soon get what she desired.

  She had lost sight of that for a while, distracted by In—don’t think about that. She reined her thought in sharply. She might lose control if she let herself think about them.

  Keep it together, Brigid, Ryan told her. I can’t watch both of you at the same time.

  “Don’t worry about me,” she responded. “I only wish I could do this instead of her.” She waved her hand at where Emma was reclining, her eyes already closed.

  Emma heard neither of them, her mind was already in another place. She had changed, and this time it was a relief. Her inner pain and torment had faded, becoming almost insignificant within the greater being that she was an integral part of.

  Releasing the pressure, the molten magma and gas that was pent up in the earth near her would be easy. It was already unstable, and her touch upon it in the recent past had only made it more unstable, but it wasn’t enough.

  The Centyr Grove was close, but the Elders had not taken root in the caldera itself. They would be shaken, and some would be damaged, but she wanted something more, and that would require some finesse.

  Moving carefully, she began rearranging herself, reinforcing some areas, those closest to where the humans were, and relaxing others. She guided the hotter parts of herself, shepherding the magma and pressure to older chambers which had been dormant for much longer. Areas that lay deep beneath parts of the Centyr Grove.

  When that was done, she fractured her skin, breaking the restraints imposed by layers of ancient bedrock. Her body shook with something that was neither pleasure nor pain, but something greater. At long last, the earth’s ancient heat was free and the world exploded with her rage.

  It was with great reluctance that she listened to the tiny human voice that was calling her, urging her to return.

  When Emma finally collapsed into herself she opened her eyes to darkness and confusion.

  She was inside a small bubble, a shield of intense strength, formed by both Brigid and Ryan. The two of them were holding hands, their minds interlinked to allow them to focus their efforts. Brangor sat beside her.

  The Mordan’s voice was close to panic when he announced, “She’s awake!”

  Emma’s magesight searched the area beyond the shield, but she found only chaos. They had somehow fallen, dropping hundreds of feet into the earth, far below the area where she had first closed her eyes and begun to listen. Beyond that the ground was shaking and heaving, for as far as her senses could explore.

  Get us out of here, Ryan ordered.

  The world beyond the shield vanished, replaced by blue skies and snow covered ground. They were standing in the street outside the council building. Abby was waiting for them as they walked up the steps. Emma and Ryan would be reporting to Tyrion immediately.

  “How did it go?” Abby asked them as they passed.

  Emma and Ryan shrugged without stopping, but Brigid paused, “It was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “Beautiful?”

  Brigid nodded, “I don’t understand what she did, or how she did it, but the world seemed to just come apart. Everything I could see, everything I could sense, for as far as my range extended, was torn apart. The ground shook, and then it collapsed beneath us. The smoke was too dense to see through with your eyes, the air too toxic to breathe—and that was the part near us. I think it was worse, much worse, for the Centyr Grove.” Her eyes were rapt with enthusiasm as she spoke.

  Abby’s tone was flat as she responded, “It sounds awful.”

  “Dangerous is the word,” said Brigid. “We almost died. It took everything we had to keep ourselves alive. If we hadn’t left when we did we would have died from lack of air, or been cooked by the heat.” It was rare for Brigid to talk much, or with such vivacity.

  Abby was puzzled by her reaction, “You sound as if you enjoyed it.”

  Brigid smiled, “Just when I thought the world was empty of joy, I saw a miracle. How many more times do we get to do this?”

  Her sister shuddered, “Six, I think.”

  Chapter 42

  Thillmarius entered Albamarl with a heavy heart. He had heard the news about Tyrion’s family, and worse, the latest reports regarding what had occurred at the Centyr Grove’s most populous territory. It was a region almost on the other side of the world, so he didn’t give much credence to the suppositions put forth by some, that Tyrion had somehow caused the eruption, but he also knew that his opinion wouldn’t matter.

  The Centyr would respond, whether it was true or not.

  The lore-warden was worried by the lack of guards, the lack of anyone really. Tyrion’s city was empty, and Albamarl was barely more occupied. The tiny number of humans he met, all of them Tyrion’s direct descendants, wouldn’t be able to put up even a token resistance when the inevitable retribution came.

  One of the daughters met him when he drew near to the original house. She seemed apprehensive, but she offered to find her father for him. He recognized her face, but had never learned her name.

  “Wait here,” she told him, directing him to a chair in the front room of the house. “He’s busy but he will come as soon as he can.”

  “What is he doing today?” asked Thillmarius, but the young woman didn’t answer, though she had clearly heard the question. She backed out of the room and closed the door.

  A half hour passed before it opened again. When it did Tyrion was there, his face grim. He took the seat across from Thillmarius, but he did not speak.

  “I have news for you,” began the lore-warden.

  Tyrion nodded, but said nothing.

  “The Centyr G
rove, the larger portion of it, that lies on the other continent, has suffered a disaster,” Thillmarius informed him.

  Tyrion gave no sign of surprise or pleasure.

  “There was a volcanic event,” continued the lore-warden, “on a scale that is hard to imagine. The ancient humans called them ‘super volcanoes’, and there was one that lay near to their grove there.”

  “How bad was it?” asked Tyrion.

  “More than half the grove was destroyed,” said Thillmarius. “The remaining half will suffer from the aftermath for years to come.”

  “A tragedy I am sure,” observed Tyrion blandly.

  The Prathion leaned forward, “Not just for them. An event that size will have far reaching consequences for the weather.”

  Which won’t be a problem for us, thought Tyrion smugly. “Pardon me, Thillmarius, three of my children were murdered very recently. I have little energy left for compassion or to worry about a change in the wind.”

  “Your people rely on crops to feed themselves, do they not?” queried the lore-warden. “This winter may last much longer than usual, and the summer that follows could be stunted and brief.”

  Tyrion already knew that, but he didn’t intend to give that fact away, “That would be a serious problem.”

  “I wanted to offer my help, should things become difficult. The Prathion Grove could help make up for the shortage, should your crops fail.”

  “Why do you care?” asked Tyrion bluntly. “So a few of us starve, that makes little difference to the She’Har doesn’t it?”

  Thillmarius frowned, “I know you dislike me, but I still would try to make up for past wrongs. We have discussed this before. I care dearly for the future between our two races.”

  “Yet the Illeniels were not concerned enough to help protect my children two days ago,” accused Tyrion. “Do you think I don’t realize what they could have done?”

  “I am not an Illeniel…”

  “But your people are their closest allies. Doesn’t that put an equal share of the blame on your shoulders?”