by Kay Williams
Carson arrived with a hesitant hug, and a little bag that had a box of the chocolate mints in it. The reminder of how we had met and the pleasure we had had that night did more to repair the friendship than I thought possible.
Shay surprised me most of all by arriving and after saying hello made himself a sandwich with the pork slices and salad cream, he gave me a little helpless shrug.
“Rose has managed to get me hooked on these.”
“You share food?”
“Sometimes,” Shay admitted. “I do like to help her cook, or cook for her, I had forgotten about food.”
I had never met Shay’s Blood Bonded but I was impressed that she had had such a dramatic influence over Shay, before he met her he would have been a cross between Ross and Carson.
I wondered how confusing it had been for him to have the life he had settled into over hundreds of years suddenly feel so worthless? How had he coped with the compulsion to look for something when he had no idea what, and then to meet a girl hundreds of years his junior and be so helpless for her and her requests that he would eat food just to share something with her.
However he had dealt with it at the time, it appeared to have been the right way, Shay was happy, comfortable with himself and the changes in his nature.
It was easy to see why Carson envied him, Carson liked people as more than as just a food source, and he enjoyed intelligent company, puzzles, and being a part of something. I doubted that the others had even considered how much of a toll the duty they gave to Carson would have weighed on him. How Carson had managed to hold on to what little of his Human thoughts and feeling he had been left after he died was a miracle in of itself.
“I’m surprised you can eat at all,” Ross frowned at me as if I was the heartless one.
“My abstract is powered by calories,” I answered.
“You intend to take another head,” Valdine summarised.
“Depends on how you intend to deal with Long,” I replied.
“If we are to get your friend back unharmed then the exchange has to take place,” Valdine replied. “Long is not a fool.”
Aolir snarled and made a sandwich of his own, I felt just so he would have something to do with his hands than throttle Valdine, and something to do with his mouth other than curse but the smoke once against drifting out of his nostrils was a very evident display of his disapproval.
“Why not just attack Long?” I asked. “It seems the most straightforward thing to do.”
“Because he is bound to think of that,” Shay said soothingly. “He will likely threaten Cornwall’s life in such a way as to force your compliance and he will have a way out of Hyde Park that is fast and secure or he wouldn’t have chosen the place.”
“So the question becomes how do you intend to rescue me?” I answered.
“We have no idea where he is based,” Valdine seemed content to run the meeting.
Aolir did curse then but the words were growled and snapped in Dragonic and none of us had any idea what he was saying which was perhaps worse than if he had just snapped in English.
“So I save myself,” I said. “In that case heads will roll.”
“Heads?” Valdine queried.
“Long isn’t working alone,” I reminded him. “If I have to save myself his colleagues are going to be just as invested in stopping me.”
“You run a very high risk of infection if you start wildly taking heads,” Shay said.
“Try and touch me.”
I held out my hand vertically facing him.
Shay finished his sandwich, brushed the crumbs off his hands and extended his hand. Three inches before he reached me his hand flattened against the kinetic shield I had erected. With a frown he got up and ran his hands along it, finding it square and without imperfections
“I take it back,” Shay sat down.
“Infection is not going to be a problem. Staying unBespelled is. I can't allow Long or his cult a chance to speak.”
“Ergo. Take the head off.” Aolir smiled. “Good choice.”
Valdine eased forwards resting his elbows on his knees.
“Just how powerful are you, Miss Roberts?”
“Depends on how much I eat,” I answered truthfully.
I had always been very careful about how much I ate; I didn’t want poor health due to high cholesterol or rotten teeth. Though I did get hungry I didn't get that full stomach feeling that other people did and I did not intend to start a habit that would end up with me eating my way into an early grave. But it did leave me with the disadvantage of knowing exactly how I could push myself.
The afternoon with junk food had allowed me the power to kill Snow but the crash afterwards was like anyone else coming down off a sugar high, I was hoping the effect would be less dramatic on a stomach full of good food but I just couldn't be sure that my assumptions were going to be correct.
Valdine sat back with a frown; he clearly didn’t like just how badly he had underestimated me based on what he had witnessed with Carson.
“Valdine is right though.” Ross turned a chair around and straddled it folding his arms over the back and resting his chin on them. “We don’t know where he is based and though we could plant a GPS or a radio transmitter on you, he would find it.”
“We have no idea if he is capable of tracing magic though,” I appealed to Aolir.
The dragon sniffed the smoke back up his nose a little embarrassed expression fleetingly stained his scales. I gave him my hand and he took it, turning my palm to face him and drawing on it with a finger, the pattern was a complicated mix of symbols and words, which I felt on not only my skin, but sinking deeper beneath.
“You are layering that,” Carson commented, familiar it seemed with magic’s application even if he didn’t have Essence enough to Cast his own Spells.
“Several times over,” Aolir answered. “If Long can detect magic and tries to remove it he will find it more difficult than he assumes, and certain wards work like trip-wires if he doesn’t notice them, but manages to remove the trace completely, than I will still have a general direction of the tamper.”
If Long did managed to work his way around the trace it wouldn’t be because Aolir had made it easy.
“What we really need,” Carson offered, “is a way to stop Long from Bespelling and taking advantage the minute he has you.”
“Medication,” Shay answered. “When Rose is ill and takes potions or medicine her taste changes in an instant.”
“Sedatives can hang around in a system for hours,” Valdine commented, the scientist in him finally useful. “Even with her high metabolism a strong enough dose would stop Long from being able to Bespell her without risk of killing her and it would have the benefit of tainting any sample he takes while it is present in her body.”
“And it would give us time to follow Aolir’s trace,” Ross agreed.
“The only problem in that is if Long detects the scent of it. He won’t hand over your friend if he knows you are going to be useless to him,” Shay said.
“Pills won’t be detected in her mouth,” Carson replied. “Or liquid capsules Hannah can just bite or swallow when Cornwall is safe.
“It’s not the safest option though. When I’m unconscious I have no way of defending myself,” I said.
“You won’t have to if we balance the sedative correctly,” Valdine said. “It will protect you.”
“This is all assuming that Long doesn’t just want her dead for Charlie,” Ross offered.
Aolir shook his head.
“Long may want to hurt her, but he knows she has more value to him alive and giving blood. I would be more inclided to think that he would make her suffer in other ways.”
“Like?” I asked, even though I wasn't sure I wanted too.
“Long could use his talent for Bespelling to make you aware of just how much blood he is taking.”
“To keep her aware,” Carson winced. “Just under enough that Hannah can’t use her power, to k
now she is being abused, perhaps even being in pain but unable to stop it, and feeling helpless.”
“I really want to be rescued before he gets that far,” I stressed.
Aolir growled in agreement and it was comforting to know that if this council failed to find me Aolir wouldn’t stop.
“I’ll get back to the lab,” Valdine stood. “Get a concoction together that should mean you’ll have been rescued before you realise you have even been kidnapped.”
# # #
I often came to the memorial wall when I felt as though my life couldn’t get much worse, and I found myself reading some now in the dim light of the fair and our torches.
IN MEMORY OF DAVID
LOVING HUSBAND
DIED 2263
I REMEMBER, KATHLEEN
DIED 2263
ENERGY FOR THE WEAK.
SHADOW FOR THE WRONGED
PEACE FOR THE STRONG.
LORE WELCOMES YOU, HASILAI
DIED 2263
SUSAN
DAUGHTER, SISTER, WIFE, MOTHER
DIED 2263
CARL
THE BRAVEST MAN I EVER KNEW
DIED 2263
TALIS
MY BROTHER
BURIED BUT NOT FORGOTTEN
DIED 2263
KIMILAF
EVERYTHING I SHOULD HAVE BEEN
THANK YOU
DIED 2263
All the messages of love, respect and gratitude never failed to put things into perspective, but today it was the ones left by the Favlians that caught my eye most of all.
Favlians knew their gods were dead.
It was their death that had divided the world in two, created the Nexus and gifted men with magic.
Without religion they taught of Accept Truths.
All Favlians knew the truth of life and of death.
Favlians taught that everyone had a soul, and when a person was born it was like an empty jar, they taught that as we moved through life it became full of memories, thoughts, feelings and decisions all of which gave the soul strength.
It was taught that when we died, no matter the circumstances, the mental state or the condition of the body the strength of the soul remained and passed into the Dark.
Weak souls who had lived relatively little lives, who never took the occasional chance, who never loved or helped, lived or cared, these souls disintegrated and gravitated back to the Nexus where they would be recycled and reused to try again.
Wrong souls, the ones who died on a mission or with a message, or in circumstances that consumed them to the point that it broke their soul were sent to the Shadow. The place between life and the Dark where the Shadow Ranger herself would listen to them and administer final justice repairing the soul and allowing it to pass into the Dark were it could weigh itself on the way to Lore.
Those souls who were strong, those that had jumped instead of hesitated, those who had done what scared them, those that pushed themselves, those that had risked and learnt, those that had both failed and succeeded. Those souls that had lived took that strength into death, and in the Dark they used their strength to walk through it until they reached the gates of Lore.
Lore was described as a sprawling landscape of ramshackle buildings built into a city of towers, cottages, forests and fields. Everything, anything anyone could ever describe as their favourite place.
Here the strong souls found a place and were at peace.
What was left of Earthling religion rebelled against this Favlian teaching, they said that it wasn’t right that evil should be allowed to pollute the earned peace of the good and
the lawful.
Favlians rarely argued theology with the Earthling religious groups, they taught that for the balance of the two worlds, the Nexus and magic to continue there had to be equals of good and evil. They taught that good could not be defined without evil and each played a role in the continuation of the balance of life.
Favlians taught that life was never that black or white so why should death be? They taught that any soul, even one who had chosen to murder or cheat or instil fear through torture and dictatorship filled up through the course of their life. It wasn’t judged by what it had done only by the strength it had gained from its choices and was just as deserving of peace as the next soul.
It wasn’t as if a mass murderer would cross over, walk the dark to Lore and then try and continue its ways in the Dead City. The soul would find a place, even if it was as simple as sitting beneath the branches of a tree, and it would find peace and completion. It wouldn’t need to be sorry, or to repent or to beg for forgiveness, it was entirely possible that the soul had only died because it had been killed by a good soul striving to do the right thing.
It was a Truth I had always liked, after all how many people throughout history had only become great because they had an opponent to pit themselves against?
It was fair and made more sense that the opponent, who had created the circumstances that allowed a hero to rise and claim his place in history should have the chance to claim the reward for doing its job.
Unburdened of all their guilt and responsibility they were just at peace.
I liked that Favlians didn’t teach of predestination, just of chance and choice and opportunity.
Right now, waiting for Long, the Truth made more sense than ever.
I had always thought of myself as a good law abiding person who resisted the pull of absolute power that my abstract could grant me to take my pleasure in the things of history, but now I had killed. I had lured a man into position and murdered him, and it was murder.
I didn’t claim self-defence, I didn’t tell the police the truth and prove I was capable of it. I had lied, I had disguised my part in it, I had judged Snow’s life as worthless as he had judged mine and ended him.
I was now going to sacrifice myself for a friend to save a life. But not before I had eaten several courses, not before I had accepted the possibility that I was going to a place where I could be given the choice of how to protect myself, and I had chosen that I would find a sharp object and I would kill anyone who sought to relieve me of my own freedom.
Murder again, in my view. I didn’t think I could morally claim self-defence when I was ready to kill for what I wanted.
All these choices were filling up my soul, I rolled the plastic capsule full of tranquilliser around in my mouth, and I would bite it when Cornwall was safe. Aolir had promised he would use his magic to get me back before Long could grab me, but I knew that Long would be ready. That I could come around from the tranquillisers effects likely in some cobbled together surgical-like theatre bleeding into a cup, trapped by a Bespelling hoping that Aolir’s wards and tracing spell would be enough that I wouldn’t suffer for long.
If experience earned strength then I felt that my soul must have wondered what had hit
it over the last couple of days, I could almost see it shaking a balled fist at me and complaining that I hadn’t stressed it out so much since my stepfather had left.
I wrapped my arms around myself and jumped a little in surprise when Aolir’s warmth matched the move. I closed my eyes and leant back against his chest.
Whatever bad decision had led me to this point it had also brought me into the warmth of this dragon's embrace and protection and I was thankful for that.
“It will be alright,” Aolir promised.
“You will take care of Simon for me?”
“He will be safe.”
I smiled at Aolir’s tone, it had taken a few hours for me to convince the jealous dragon that nothing had happened between Cornwall and me, but it didn’t mean that he was happy to be stuck with the baby-sitting duty.
I had eventually won him over by telling him that I trusted the life of my friend only to his claws and not the bickering Dependant Council, which had soothed Aolir’s ego and by agreeing to his suggestion that as soon as Cornwall was safe he could utilise his magic to keep my sedated body out of Long’s clutches.
I think we both knew it would prove an almost impossible task. Shay had been right when he said that Long hadn’t chosen this time and place because it was in our favour.
The nice thing about knowing the truth about what probably would happen, was that it meant that I could choose to deceive myself or not, so I closed my eyes and let myself believe that the next few minutes were going to be an anti-climax. I pictured getting Cornwall safe, and not having time to even bite the sedative before Aolir was charging into the fray and Long would run away too scared for his life to even know which direction to run in.
When the mental images caused me to smile I shared them with Aolir who chuckled softly and kissed my cheek for my support in his abilities.
Aolir released me as eleven pm closed in, it was cold and dark and with only the few lights from the distant fair the few torches the Council held to give us a chance to see what was coming; the meeting was suitably shadowed and eerie. So much so that it wasn’t a surprise when Long as his men almost melted out of the gloom and into our midst with Cornwall looking completely unharmed being muscled along with a wand pointed at his back.
The sight of the wand made Aolir stiffen it meant one of Long's number, dead or not, had Essence and was magically proficient. Unfortunately, there was no way of knowing just how powerful a magic user simply by looking at them or by the wand they chose to use.
A wooden wand did not equal a weak magic user, it just meant the magic user preferred wood or couldn’t afford a more expensive Smithing material.
Cornwall’s gaze when it met mine was wounded, and I wouldn’t have been surprised at all if Long had taken great delight in telling him exactly why they had threatened me with his demise and what I had done to Snow.
I was glad that the sedative didn’t have to be swallowed. My throat was dry, my stomach had seized and everything was running too fast and high. I wasn’t really meant for this kind of thing.
“I’m impressed with the full house,” Long spoke as he appraised the Council. “How are you, Valdine? Still only experimenting with what you can test in a tube?”