The damage to the keep had done more than ruin the control chamber, preventing us from lowering the shield barrier. It had destroyed our family apartments. That wasn’t such a big loss, since we didn’t actually live in them, but it had also destroyed the portal that led to our hidden mountain home.
The only way in or out of the castle was via the teleport circles in the transfer house. Washbrook had a similar problem, so it was obvious that my first priority was to reestablish control over the shield barrier.
Before I could start, Captain Draper approached me. “My lord, have you eaten yet?”
“I have no appetite,” I answered woodenly.
“You must eat to—”
“How many did we lose?” I asked, cutting him off before he could lecture me.
The captain stood straighter as he answered me, “Forty-seven men and women. Twenty-eight of those were guardsmen, and nineteen were servants within the keep.”
It was easy enough to tell he wasn’t saying everything. “How many of those were children?”
After a pause, he replied, “Four, milord. Many more would have died if it weren’t for your daughter delaying the collapse.”
“I’ll want a list of their names, once we’re past the worst of this,” I noted.
“If I may ask, milord, how are the wounded?” There was a strong undercurrent of anxiety in his question.
“Your son will recover,” I said, answering the question he truly wanted to ask. “Perry’s wounds were serious, but nothing that will limit him in the future. Give him a month or two and he will be back in the training yard, making fools out of his fellow soldiers again.”
Captain Draper gave out a strange coughing grunt, turning his head to one side so I couldn’t see his face. When he had composed himself again he spoke up, “Thank you, milord.”
“Don’t thank me,” I said. “I’m told your son was very brave. He earned great honor for your family and I am grateful to still have him. You raised him well.”
“I have another question, Your Excellency, and I apologize for the necessity.” My captain of the guard hesitated.
“Spit it out, Carl,” I prompted him.
“The Countess—what should I do about…”
Her body, I finished silently. Dammit. “Nothing. I’ll handle it.” I had been avoiding the thought since I had left the captain’s room hours ago.
I left him there and returned to where I had left her. It wasn’t fair to keep the captain’s room occupied when beds were in short supply. She was still as I had left her, still and peaceful in her repose, with a blanket tucked over her as though she might simply be resting after a hard day.
With my power I levitated her body, and took her into the main barracks, trying to decide where she should go. Ordinarily I would have used one of the spare rooms in the keep for her, but that was obviously not possible. Finally I decided on the gatehouse.
Summoning a cloud to shield us from the eyes of my people, I walked her to the bailey and carried her up the stairs to one of the rooms above the gate and portcullis. Then I rearranged the blanket to cover her face and drew a set of crystalline cubes from my belt pouch. A touch of aythar and they flew apart, forming a rectangle around her floating form. Another touch and a surge of aythar activated the enchantment, encasing Penny’s cold flesh in a field of golden light.
The stasis field kept her suspended there, unchanging, even after I had withdrawn my power. It would keep her, pure and uncorrupted, for as long as necessary, until my family had returned. Until we could lay her to rest.
It was some time before I was able to compose myself again, but when I had, I left to seek out what remained of the control chamber inside the ruins of the keep. There was work to be done and no one else to do it.
***
My work was undisturbed through the rest of the afternoon and late into the night. Ordinarily I would have expected a long succession of questions from Captain Draper and others, during such a crisis, but they never approached me. In the background of my mind I sensed Irene’s aythar as she moved from place to place, answering the people’s concerns and giving the orders that were necessary.
I finished reconstructing the control pedestal some time after midnight. Outside the courtyard had gone silent, for most of the men had gone to sleep earlier. Though it was cold, I didn’t seek a blanket. Instead I voiced a spell and wrapped myself in a warm bubble of air before leaning against one of the intact walls. Alone, I stared into the darkness, wishing for sleep.
Eventually, my exhaustion, mental and physical, won out, and I descended into a deep slumber.
Chapter 40
I woke with the sun shining in my eyes. My spell for warmth had mostly faded, but I wasn’t cold. At some point someone had tucked a bedroll between my back and the wall and covered me with a blanket. That someone was leaning against me, her head against my chest.
What would I do without you always looking out for me? I thought, forgetting for a moment that the person I was thinking of wasn’t with me anymore.
My chest ached as I realized it was Irene beside me. I should have realized sooner; her hair was a lighter shade of brown and she was still considerably smaller than her mother. I fought to keep my chest from heaving; I didn’t want to wake her. Irene had been working just as hard as I had and she needed her sleep.
She should be in a warm bed, not sleeping on hard stone next to me.
Careful to move slowly, I began to shift her head, trying to get up without waking her, but Irene’s eyes popped open anyway. For a half a minute, we just stared at each other, and I could see the knowledge of the previous day filtering into her mind as the cloudy dreams of the night dissipated.
“I’m sorry.” Those were her first words.
I squeezed her. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“She asked me not to be angry with you—yesterday. I know it wasn’t your fault, but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face you.”
“Shhh, it’s fine,” I said soothingly. “Neither of us was in any shape to talk. You did the most important things.” After a brief pause, I added, “You spoke to her?”
“Mm hmm,” said Irene, the pitch of her reply rising as she tried to keep from crying.
Neither of us could go on, so we sat silently for a short time, and then we stood up and brushed ourselves off. Words could come later, when they weren’t so damned hard to say. The sun was up, and I could hear the sounds of people moving around outside. Another day of hard labor was already in progress.
I hadn’t lowered the shield the night before because there hadn’t been much point with everyone asleep. Plus, I had felt safer sleeping with it active. I remedied that now, testing the new links between the repaired pedestal and the enchantment. It worked, and I felt the subtle vibration of the shield barrier vanish.
With the barrier down, people began moving back and forth between the castle yard and Washbrook. The air was filled with the sounds of people talking loudly back and forth, as well as the grief-stricken cries of the families of those who had fallen. When I stepped into the courtyard, a silence fell and people began to gather around me, questions on their faces.
Irene, young as she was, stepped in front of me and opened her mouth, preparing to speak.
Trying to protect your father? I thought. She continued to surprise me. I placed a hand on her shoulder and shook my head. “You’ve done more than you should. Let me.” Then I straightened to address the crowd. Among the faces, I could see Sir Cyhan and Chad Grayson watching me expectantly. I guessed that they had been trapped in Washbrook.
“We have been dealt a terrible wound. Many of you have lost friends and loved ones, and I know you have questions. I have some of the answers, as well as questions of my own. The monsters that attacked us are ancient and inhuman. The attack here was a response to my temerity in challenging them.
“I underestimated them, and our loved ones have paid the price for my hubris. Many died, among them my own dear w
ife, your countess. I cannot bring them back. Nothing I can say will fill the void in our hearts. Nothing will atone for this. The best I can offer you is my vow to bring justice to the enemy that has done this.
“I believe I have already eliminated the majority of the enemy’s forces, but I have no doubt they will recover. To prevent a repeat of yesterday’s tragedy, I will step up my efforts to make certain our homes, your homes, are safe. I will continue to hunt the remnants of our mutual foe.
“Beyond this I have nothing to offer you. I have made many mistakes over the years, and many have suffered for them, though this is perhaps the deepest wound yet. History has shown that I am a failure when it comes to protecting my own, but there is one thing I have never failed at.
“You will have vengeance,” I finished.
A familiar voice, deep and masculine, answered from the crowd, “I like the sound of that, though I have serious doubts about your ability to make good on your words.” People hurried to distance themselves from the speaker, and as the space grew I saw Tyrion standing amidst them.
He had sealed his aythar tightly, so that he appeared to be an ordinary man, but he released the block as he threw back the hood of his cloak. His presence fell like a shadow across the crowd, causing people to gasp as they subconsciously felt the weight of his aythar expand. The crowd parted as he walked toward me.
Tyrion Illeniel, the first wizard, stopped a few feet from me, a mocking sneer on his lips. “You speak of vengeance, but you’re a child playing at a man’s game. Why should these people trust you?”
Irene, already grief stricken and worn, reacted before I could reply. She stepped forward, and her hand flew up to slap the stranger insulting her father.
Tyrion batted her hand away and swept the back of his fist at her, but it stopped in mid swing, caught by my power.
“Touch my daughter and die,” I warned him.
The air shimmered as he tested my strength, his will wrestling my own. Staring into his eyes, I felt my rage climbing, and the ground began to tremble as the earth reacted to our anger.
“You should teach your cub how to fight before she gets herself into trouble, baring her teeth at strangers,” observed Tyrion, with a look of mad intensity in his eyes.
“An’ you should learn when to shut yer fuckin’ mouth,” swore Chad behind him. The hunter stood a few feet away, his bow drawn and one of the enchanted war arrows nocked. Cyhan stood on Tyrion’s other side, blade in hand, his body tense with suppressed violence.
My ancestor smiled. “I could kill both of you in the span of a heartbeat.” Then he relaxed, releasing his power and ending our battle of wills.
“Try it,” growled the ranger, but I held up my hand to forestall him before he could say more.
“I did not come here to fight,” announced Tyrion.
“You announce your intentions poorly then,” I remarked disdainfully. “The people have suffered a great hurt and our blood runs hot. Tempers are frayed. You should consider your manners if you wish to avoid a tragic misunderstanding.”
Tyrion laughed, but there was nothing pleasant about the sound. “I could say the same to you. Learn to control your children, or there might be bloodshed when none is desired. Where are your other offspring? I am surprised your entire brood isn’t here assaulting me.”
The possible implications of his words made my blood run cold. Does he know? Were they caught? The wrong response could give them away, unless he had already caught them. “They are away, dealing with other matters,” I said neutrally.
“Hopefully they are better trained than this one,” mocked Tyrion, his eyes flicking toward Irene. “It would be terrible if something ill befell them.”
“Is that a threat?” I asked tensely.
My ancestor’s face changed, as confusion flickered across his features for a second. He had sensed the incipient violence behind my words and it surprised him. “No,” he answered. “I came today to offer my help, and perhaps my advice as well, though I doubt you will heed it.”
He doesn’t know, I realized. If he had, he wouldn’t have been surprised, and he wouldn’t have made that last remark without following it with a more direct threat. “Help?” I questioned, letting my own surprise show.
Tyrion nodded. “With your enemy, the ancient enemy of the She’Har, the ones who attacked your home. You said you will exact vengeance on them. I have the means to make your wish come true.”
My first impulse was to demand how he intended to do that, but as my anger cooled I realized we still had a rather large audience. “Let’s talk about this elsewhere.”
Tyrion arched one brow, glancing at my ruined castle. “Where do you suggest?”
“The one place left that can show you the proper hospitality,” I answered. Then I turned to Cyhan. “Stay with Irene. Guard her life with your own. Until I return her word is law.” Glancing at Chad, I added, “Come with me. You can help me introduce our guest to the best that the Muddy Pig has to offer.”
Chad answered with a wicked grin. “Gladly. Finally, ye’ve recognized my true talents.”
My ancestor frowned. “Muddy Pig?”
***
Fifteen minutes later, we were comfortably ensconced in the warm interior of Washbrook’s finest (and indeed only) tavern. We sat at an old table in the corner of the main room, Chad’s favorite spot, not that it mattered; the tavern was empty. Everyone who might have considered drinking at this time of day was occupied with the aftermath of the attack on Castle Cameron.
None of the staff would have been present either, since they were likewise busy, but Chad had sent a runner for one of the hostesses to come and assist us. The waitress in question was now leaning over the table, delivering a set of three small glasses.
She had dark hair, bound up in a practical braid, and I couldn’t help but notice that she angled her body in such a way that Chad had a better view of her figure than the rest of us. That wasn’t what concerned me, though. “What’s this?” I asked, indicating the glasses.
“McDaniel’s finest whiskey,” replied the waitress, Danae, with a mischievous wink that also seemed directed mainly at the huntsman.
“Whiskey?” said Tyrion, the word unfamiliar to him.
They hadn’t had distilled spirits in his time, I remembered, but Chad spoke first. “It’s a man’s drink. I figured you’d like it.”
It certainly wasn’t to my liking. The stuff was a guaranteed way to ruin the ‘morrow. I usually stuck to beer or wine. Besides, Penny usually frowned on me drinking spirits. My throat grew tight as I realized that wasn’t something I needed to worry about any longer.
Chad saved me from needing to comment, raising his glass. “Cheers,” he said, waiting for us to lift our own before downing the fiery liquid in a slow swallow, relishing the taste.
Tyrion followed his example, and I was gratified to see my ancestor struggle to keep from choking as the amber fluid burned his throat. I managed mine with more grace, and the burn helped me get my thoughts back to the present. “So, what did you have in mind?” I asked.
Danae was back and filling our glasses again before he could reply. I covered mine with one hand. “Beer, please.”
She started to turn away, but Chad pointed at his glass and Tyrion’s. “You know better’n that, darlin’. Just leave the bottle before ye fetch our worthy Count his milk.”
Danae filled their glasses, casting wicked looks at the ranger as she handed him the bottle afterward. I had been in the Muddy Pig quite a few times, but I couldn’t recall her ever being so obvious before, and I wondered if anything had happened between the two of them that I was unaware of. Not my business, I told myself.
“The She’Har were fighting this enemy for millennia before they came here,” began Tyrion after draining his second glass. “As I’m sure you’re aware.”
I nodded.
“During that time, they developed specialized krytek for sniffing out ANSIS. Considering the current situation, I think you need
them,” added my ancestor.
In fact, I had thought about it. I had even planned on asking him during my last visit to his island, but after the disastrous fight over Lynaralla, I had discarded the idea. My pride had kept me from considering it again. “You aren’t a father-tree anymore,” I observed.
“My tree is still there,” explained Tyrion. “I can merge with it whenever I choose. I will produce the krytek and find the enemy for you, if you will show me how these teleport circles of yours work.”
My beer had arrived, so I took a long drink while I thought over his proposal. Since the rebirth of the She’Har, Tyrion had never shown any interest in learning anything about modern enchanting. Then again, this was only my second time talking to him in human form.
When I didn’t answer right away, Tyrion smiled at my hesitation. “Worried that I have some sinister ulterior motive?”
“We aren’t exactly friends,” I said honestly. “And after my last visit, I wasn’t sure we were even allies any longer.”
“I have a vested interest in this world, just as you do. Neither of us profits from letting ANSIS have it,” explained Tyrion. Danae placed two more mugs in front of him and Chad, each filled to the brim with frothy brew.
“Why do you want to learn about teleportation enchantments?” I asked.
“Aside from the fact that they are obviously useful for a wide variety of things, I’ll need them if I am to report what the krytek discover to you in any reasonable timeframe,” said Tyrion. He lifted the beer to his lips and swallowed. His eyes widened after a second and he took another, longer drink. “I thought you said this was beer?”
“It is,” I replied.
Chad sneered at him, “Some things have improved since yer day. Good beer is a sign of an advanced society.”
I studied my chief huntsman with interest, noting that his accent had almost vanished. It didn’t happen often, but as always, it made me wonder about his past. How much of his rustic demeanor was real, and how much was an affectation?
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