She struggled in his grasp, but he wrenched her head back around to face him. The sword was still in her hand, but it hung limp now. Dragging her close, he caught her ear in his teeth and bit down until the pain made her cry out. When he pulled away there was blood on his lips, though whether it was from a prior wound or from the bite, I couldn’t tell.
“The pain lets you know you’re alive. It makes your heart race—and ignites your lust,” he said, leering.
There were tears in her eyes, but her cheeks were flushed. Something about her expression, the way her lips had parted, the way her breathing came in short gasps now. It sent shivers down my spine. Is she reacting to him?
“I’ll kill you for this,” she growled.
“No time like the present,” he replied. “You still have your sword. I won’t stop you. Use it!” Seconds ticked past, until at last he covered her mouth with his own.
Penny’s sword, the one I had enchanted for her years ago, slipped from her fingers and fell to the ground. She struggled, but the strength had gone out of her arms. When he drew back again he looked at her with smoldering eyes, “You seem to have lost your blade. Use mine, it’s almost ready for you.”
I was beyond rage now, so far beyond that I tried to touch my power, but the effort only resulted in a swelling of pain that almost sent me into unconsciousness. I tried to move, but my legs were weak, and my left arm wasn’t responding at all. Somehow, I lifted myself onto my knees and my one good arm. I doubted I could crawl far enough to reach them, but then my eyes spied a fist sized rock that had been dredged up from the ground during our fight. Wrapping my right hand around it, I lifted and threw it with everything I had left in me.
Tyrion felt it coming, since his magesight was still working perfectly. In the blink of an eye he pushed Penny away and leapt back, clearing ten feet in a powerful bound. He landed among the bushes and small trees at the edge of the clearing.
In a flash, Penny ran toward me. Tyrion started to emerge from the trees, but Lynaralla stepped in front of him.
“No,” she said in a firm voice. “You lost.”
Tyrion looked bewildered for a moment, but then he realized he had passed beyond the edge of the field. He shrugged and laughed ruefully. “It looks like you’re right. I left the field and clearly, he’s still trying to fight.
“You win, Count di’ Cameron!” he called in a loud voice, then he gave a mock bow. “I acknowledge your victory. Take your spoils and go—Lynaralla is your daughter now.”
“Go fuck yourself,” I said, or I would have if my face hadn’t been so badly smashed. My jaw wasn’t working properly, and I couldn’t get enough air in to speak above a whisper anyway. Hopefully my expression conveyed my feelings.
Penny spoke for both of us, “If I ever see you again, it will be too soon. The next time you lay a hand on me I will drive a sword through your chest.” The venom in her voice was withering, but it sounded like false bravado in my ears.
“Dear Penelope,” answered Tyrion, “try not to profess your love too loudly.” Then he laughed at his own joke. “Since I doubt your husband will be flying for a while I’ll have one of the dormon take you back to the mainland.” With that he left.
The dormon were a specialized type of krytek, massive flying beasts that seemed to be more plant than animal. When it finally arrived, Penny climbed easily aboard and waited while Lynaralla gently levitated my broken body up to her. Within minutes we were airborne. Penny cradled my head with one arm and used the other to keep my body secure during the flight.
She watched me carefully during the hours that followed. The dormon didn’t fly nearly as fast as I had, so the trip took nearly eight hours. I kept my one good eye squeezed shut. I couldn’t bear to see the pity in her face, a constant reminder of my failure, my shame. Alone with my thoughts I replayed that scene over and over in my head, watching the sword fall from her hand as he kissed her.
The pain of my body was almost a welcome distraction from my thoughts.
Chapter 10
The trip after we reached Turlington was worse. Penny carried me through the World-Road. It would have been easier if Lynaralla had levitated me, but my wife wouldn’t listen, and I was in no shape to argue. Thankfully, I passed out before we reached Lancaster.
When I awoke we were leaving the transfer house in the yard of Castle Cameron. Lynaralla had used the circle in Lancaster to teleport us there, which was a relief. I’m not sure I could have handled a long ride, and I certainly couldn’t teleport us myself.
Barely able to speak, I whispered to Penny, knowing her sharp ears would hear me, “Don’t let them see me.”
Nodding she removed her cloak and draped it over me. If the guards outside the transfer house had any questions, they dropped them when they saw the look on her face. Soon I was back in my bed.
Lynaralla ran interference when we entered the house. Conall and Irene were both excited to see her, though I’m sure they were curious about the large burden their mother was carrying. Minutes later I was in my bed, staining the sheets with dirt and dried blood.
Of our older children, only Moira was home. Despite my objections Penny brought her in immediately after I was settled. With feedback sickness I couldn’t heal myself, and Penny seemed to feel that was important. Personally, I only wanted a dark hole to climb into.
Moira and her spell-twin, Myra, worked in tandem to fix my broken bones and seal my various wounds. I only had one serious cut, a slowly seeping stab wound in my side. I couldn’t inspect it myself, but it must have been simple since it didn’t take them long to finish dealing with it. If anything serious had been cut, I’d discover it in a few days. Dying from a gut wound was a horrible way to go.
There was a lot they couldn’t fix, the feedback sickness, the swelling and bruises, not to mention my broken pride. If experience was any guide, I’d be in bed for at least a week if not longer.
A lot of talking went on, but I ignored it all until eventually they left. Penny stayed the longest, but eventually she decided to let me rest. The door closed, and I was alone, the room lit by a single candle.
In the dim light I lay staring at the ceiling, hating myself for my weakness. Hating what had happened. I hadn’t felt such shame since the day I had been publicly flogged in Albamarl. That had faded with time, so it was hard to say for certain, but this felt worse.
Exhausted, I closed my eyes and despite my pain I quickly fell asleep. My dreams were anything but pleasant.
Once again, I watched the sword fall from her hand…
***
“Mort, wake up.”
I wasn’t sure how long I had slept, and in fact I hadn’t really been asleep. I just hadn’t wanted to open my eyes. There was nothing good on the horizon for today, just more pain and guilt.
Soft lips brushed my forehead. “Dammit, I know you’re awake. Look at me.”
None of it was her fault. I knew that. The blame rested squarely on the shoulders of one man, a man who should have died several thousand years ago when his own daughter put a blade through his back. But that wasn’t how it felt. My heart wanted to claim responsibility. I had never been one to blame others, no matter the circumstances.
It had been my failure, my weakness, my shame. But that wasn’t the worst of it. I had failed before. The worst was seeing her go slack in his arms.
None of it was rational. I had explained that to myself over and over, each time I had awoken from my nightmares. Taking a deep breath, I opened my eyes. I couldn’t punish her for this, no matter how screwed up my head was. I had to be strong.
“Hi,” I said, my voice hoarse. I forced a weak smile onto my lips, which hurt. Any movement of my facial muscles hurt, the bones were whole, but the tissue damage remained.
Liquid brown eyes stared down at me, framed by a face that could only belong to an angel. Penny. Dark circles made it abundantly clear that she probably hadn’t slept. Had she spent the night torturing herself? I didn’t have a monopoly on self-doubt
and recrimination.
“I missed you,” she said. “You slept a long time.”
“How many times have we done this?” I asked.
“Too many, and every time feels worse than the last,” she answered.
She was right. I had nearly died too many times to remember, and every time it had been her smile waiting for me when I returned. She wasn’t much better, though. I had been the one to wait by the sickbed beside her on quite a few occasions. It was almost a ritual for us now.
“I’ll be right as rain in a day or two.”
Penny’s head was bowed, her face hidden. “Elise says there will probably be permanent damage, unless there’s something more you can do.”
Elise Thornbear was a mundane healer and the mother of my late-friend, Dorian. She knew more about healing and medicines than anyone I had ever met. If she had said it, it was probably true. “Once I get over the feedback sickness I can fix the rest,” I reassured her.
One of the great benefits of being an archmage, was that injuries to the self were easier to fix than almost anything else. So long as I could focus on the memory of what my healthy self had been like, I could restore my body. In fact, the body I had now wasn’t even my original one, it had been produced using a significantly riskier process by Gareth Gaelyn. At one point I had looked like his twin. I had had to modify it to return to my accustomed face and form. I could easily do so again, once I could use my power.
“Good,” she said, nodding. “I don’t think I could make it without you.” She squeezed my hand so tightly it was painful.
I could hear the depression in her voice, so I tried a joke. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I might even use the opportunity to get rid of this belly, maybe add some more muscle.”
She flinched, and I felt it through her grip on my hand. Inadvertently, I had struck a nerve. Or was it an accident? Had my remark been born of some subconscious desire to hurt her?
“About what happened…,” she began.
I interrupted her, “I’m sorry. It was my fault.”
Her breath hissed between her teeth angrily, “Shut up. None of it was your fault.”
“I lost,” I said simply.
“We didn’t go there to fight. None of it was your choice,” she responded bitterly. “Lynaralla told me what happened. You had already won. You hurt yourself to keep from killing him.”
“I was weak, and he played on that weakness,” I answered. “He anticipated my hesitation, and he used it to crush me like a bug—and then.” I stopped, unable to say the words. After a second I tried again, “And then he—and then I—I couldn’t protect you.”
“Just stop,” she ordered. “I love you because you aren’t a murdering monster. Don’t pretend your kindness is a weakness. We wouldn’t be here if you were any other way. If anyone was weak, it’s me.”
“No…”
And then her tears began to trickle down her nose, dripping onto the bed next to me. “I couldn’t stop him. No! I could have, but I didn’t. I should have put that sword straight through his withered black heart!”
“You were scared…”
“No! And yes, I was scared, but I’ve faced worse. I wasn’t afraid for my life. I knew he wasn’t going to kill me. I was paralyzed, but not by fear. It’s like my body betrayed me. I couldn’t fight him.” The self-loathing in her words was so strong it burned in my ears.
“Penny, you did the right thing,” I insisted. “You couldn’t have killed him. The krytek would have killed us. You knew if you stabbed him, we would both die.”
“That’s not it!” she said, choking out the words. “I didn’t know that. I wasn’t thinking about that. There was no thought at all. I was horrified, scared you might be dying. What he did to you was awful! But when he grabbed me, I—I—all of that just vanished!”
Suddenly a thought occurred to me, and everything made sense. “Penny, do you remember when I told the kids about his life story?”
“What?” she said, sounding confused and angry at the change in subject. “Some of it, why does it matter? I wasn’t there for all of it.”
“He raped over a dozen women, but not by force. He used his power to manipulate their bodies and emotions,” I told her. It made perfect sense now.
“You said only a Centyr, like Moira, could do that.” There was a hopeful sound in her voice.
“Only they can control people’s minds, but any mage can induce sensations, emotions. Back then, Tyrion had his way with those women by inducing a powerful feeling of lust. Whatever you felt, it wasn’t you. It was him, screwing with your head!”
The air left her lungs suddenly as she exhaled, a weight having been lifted from her shoulders. Then her lips were against mine. After a moment she pulled back, relief written in her features. “That’s so evil! I was sick with guilt! I haven’t slept since we returned…”
I smiled and squeezed her hand, wishing I could sit up and hold her. “He screwed with both our heads, one way or another.”
Penny clenched one hand in a tight fist until the knuckles turned white. “I despise that bastard. How can such filth survive in this world? I’ve never wanted to kill someone so badly in my life.”
The fury in her eyes was real, yet it comforted me. I had never loved anyone the way I loved her, and every year, every day, the feeling seemed to grow stronger, despite all the shit life threw at us.
We talked for a while longer, but our conversation was more relaxed now, our thoughts no longer dark with guilt and shame. After a bit she helped me up, so I could relieve my overburdened bladder, something else she had to help me with in the past. She had nursed me back to health so many times.
Later, she left, but she leaned down to give me another kiss first. I felt the weight of her pendant fall against my chest. The silver pendant I had made ages ago, to protect her from the shiggreth. Darkness descended over my thoughts once more, but I kept smiling until she had left.
***
The next day was worse than the first. Bruises are like that. They fool you the first day, make you think perhaps it won’t be too bad, but as soon as you lower your guard, they pounce. I could hardly move, and when I did it was only to relieve myself. My urine was dark brown, a propitious color.
My entire family took turns hovering over me, watching me breathe, sleep, and continually trying to force unrealistic amounts of water down my throat. All part of Elise’s sadistic plan to keep my kidneys functioning until they had a chance to recover. I had always known she had it in for me. She knew I was the mastermind behind the thefts of her blueberry tarts, which Dorian had nobly taken the blame for. I told everyone who would listen that she was trying to kill me, but they paid me no heed.
The second day Rose appeared.
Lady Rose Thornbear, or more officially, Lady Hightower, was an old friend. She had been married to my friend Dorian, and she had been through dark times with Penny and me. I trusted her as much as anyone in my family. Honestly, in my mind, she was family.
I didn’t trust her today. “What are you doing here?!” I demanded when she crossed the bedroom threshold. As usual her long dark hair was immaculately braided and coiffed on top of her head. She had foregone wearing one of her more usual elegant dresses in favor of a plain linen shift. She looked suspiciously like a nurse.
Her lips quirked into a half-smile when she saw me. “Penny had to go to Gododdin, since you are still not well. I volunteered to take Mordecai-duty today. Have you had any water yet?” She lifted the pitcher from a table along the wall.
“Help! She’s here to kill me!” I shouted half-heartedly at the now closed door. Lady Rose was Elise Thornbear’s daughter-in-law, it was a good bet she was in on the plot.
“That’s enough of that,” she snapped playfully. “Your children told me you were a handful, but I didn’t expect you to be this bad.”
I turned my head away from her petulantly. “If you try to offer me a cup of water, I’ll bite your hand,” I mumbled. “I already feel like an
overfull wineskin.” I tried to lift a hand, so she could see my sausage-like fingers, but it hurt too much, so I gave up.
Rose moved closer and sat down on the chair next to the bed, then leaned over to look down at me. “How low the mighty have fallen.” She graced my forehead with a light kiss before resuming her seat. “How do you feel?” she asked.
I grimaced, “How do I look? Multiply that by ten, and you’ll be close.”
A look of concern flickered across her face, but it vanished almost as quickly as it appeared. Most would have missed it entirely. Lady Rose was a consummate actress, and few ever saw the depths that hid behind her perfectly composed expression. “You always did like to whine,” she said, needling me. “When was the last time you relieved yourself?”
I gave her a look of mock embarrassment. “You haven’t even given me flowers yet, and you already want to know about my bladder?”
“Mort,” she said warningly.
“An hour ago,” I lied.
Her blue eyes flashed, “Your daughter said it was last night.”
“I snuck out of bed this morning when she stepped out. It was too embarrassing to do with her there.”
“You can barely move,” she observed, and then, without the least bit of embarrassment, she bent down and retrieved the chamber pot. I felt my face flush as she removed the lid. “And this, is empty.”
“I poured it out the window.”
She gave me a severe look. “It sounds like more dandelion tea for you, milord.” Then she placed her hand on my brow. “And perhaps some willow as well, you feel hot.”
“Traitor,” I hissed. Both of those tasted horrible, and I shuddered to think what the flavor would be if she mixed them.
Rose smiled. “I’ve been called worse. Do you think you can pee if we get you up out of that bed?”
She was a slender woman, and despite her towering personality, she couldn’t possibly hope to hold me up. “We?” I asked suspiciously.
“Alyssa is waiting outside to help, if needed,” she informed me.
Alyssa was one of my household servants, as well as Lady Rose’s future daughter-in-law. She was also extremely young, less than twenty if I had to guess. The girl was incredibly athletic, a natural warrior, and I had no doubt she could have carried me by herself. “If you drag her into this you may never have grandchildren, Rose. Think of the trauma the girl will suffer if I have to drop my trousers in front of her!”
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