“While you do what, Dalph?” In horrible shape, emaciated, dirty, and weak as a kitten, I could see the battle light blaze in Brenden’s eyes.
“Finish Pria.”
“Finish?”
“Completely,” I threw in. “Trust us.”
From behind us, Madison posed a question as he leaned just as heavily on Carlos. “It’s not that we’re not glad to see you, brother, but why now? And how are we finishing Pria?”
“The Stones.” Dalph reached the stairs and started up, going as fast as possible. “Later. I’ll explain later. Just let me get you both out of here.”
“We have scores to settle, Dalph! Just give us a sword!”
“Brenden, you couldn’t hold a sword right now! But you still haven’t changed a bit!”
And with that, Dalph reached the top of the stairs and handed his brother over to the waiting Truscans.
“Get him out of here!”
“I could too hold a sword!” Brenden shouted back, as the warriors literally picked him up between them and virtually carried him, almost kicking and screaming in protest, out of the danger zone.
I reached the top myself and turned back to Carlos and Madison, who were approaching the top.
“Tess, don’t try and help, you’ll unbalance us!” Carlos ordered, reaching the top himself and handing Madison over to two more waiting warriors.
“Are you going to give me problems, too?” Dalph asked Madison.
“Hell, no, I know we couldn’t hold a sword. And you could show me a mite more sympathy, he’s all I’ve heard for the past ten years!”
“It’s been fourteen years, brother.”
“Well, like Mother always said, time flies when you’re having fun!” Madison turned and addressed his assistants in Truscan. “Gentlemen, show me the door. Please.”
I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and did a combination of both. Certainly, I expected to love both of them simply because they were Dalph’s brothers, but Madison was going to be a soul-mate, I could tell. I looked at Dalph’s face and knew the stones were talking.
“Upstairs! Let’s go!” and Dalph turned and rushed the stone steps. He called back over his shoulder to the remaining Truscans, who had, by all indications, decimated the castle’s Prian population.
“Fall back! Fall back! Get out!” And just in case they missed the order, he sent forth one of the Morse Code howl calls that was picked up and repeated throughout the building, so that no Truscan could miss it.
“Where?” I asked, hurrying behind him.
He stopped in front of a door, a very ornate one by Prian standards.
“There!” He threw his shoulder against it, but it didn’t budge. “Carlos?”
“Okay, out of my way!” And Carlos once again worked his demolition magic, using always enough, never too much. What would we have done if he hadn’t hitchhiked back to Trusca on the rainbows of dancing lights?
The door disintegrated, and behind it, we saw Kruska. The Bog Hog himself. He was holding a clear crystal that seemed to be making an attempt to gear up into a light show, which would probably not be a good thing at all.
Dalph didn’t hesitate. He reached down to the huge kris on his belt and in movements so smooth, so quick, that they were seamless, sent it whistling through the air and into Kruska’s chest. It missed the heart. I thought. Until I saw the shock in Kruska’s eyes and saw the blood begin to spill out of his mouth. Prians must have different internal anatomy. Almost in slow motion, he fell to the floor, his hand still clutching the Prian Power Stone, which was beginning to tinge with a rainbow of colored light.
Dalph flew across the room and grabbed the Power Stone, which must not have appreciated the irreverence, as the tinges began to darken, which I just knew wasn’t a good thing.
“Carlos? What have you got for me?”
Carlos threw his magic bag on the floor and thrust his hand inside, emerging with the biggest block of plastique I’d seen, and an exceedingly short fuse.
“Here!” he said, as he stood up and moved quickly to Dalph. “Saved it special!”
“That fuse—” I protested.
“Is pretty damn short, so go ahead and get moving, Tess!” Carlos confirmed.
“But…” I began to protest as Carlos thrust the stone completely into the block of plastique and began to mold the material around the exposed portion of the stone.
“Tess!” Dalph roared. “Get the hell out of here! Move!”
There seeming to be no room for discussion, I moved, trusting that the two of them had enough sense to move themselves. I heard the flick of the cigarette lighter, followed by a dull thump which I assumed to be the plastique covered stone being tossed to the far side of the room, and had barely made it back to the steps when I heard them pounding behind me. They caught up with me, and in unison, without discussion, each grabbing me around the upper arms, they literally picked me up, and hurtled down the steps. My feet never touched the ground; the sensation almost like flying. I heard a giant “Whoosk” as the plastique blew, and expected to dissolve immediately into pieces. I heard the building start to go, imploding in the rush and roar of fire engulfing the steps. Dalph and Carlos let my feet touch the floor, but kept their respective holds on my arms, pulling me forward.
In my mind’s eye, I saw the three of us on a giant movie screen, black images running in front of a giant wall of rushing fire, in glorious Technicolor. As we neared the door, Dalph let go of my arm, moved in front of me and enveloped me in his arms. I felt his powerful leg muscles bunch as he launched himself backward out of the door, trying to gain as much distance as possible, and as we went flying through the air, I heard him shout, “Carlos! Cover Tess!”
Dalph’s back hit the ground, and a micro-second later, Carlos’ chest hit my back, so that I was sandwiched between them, having hit neither the ground nor been hit by any falling debris. I realized that was Dalph’s intention; the best he could do to protect me and our baby girl he’d already named Madeleine.
I heard the final collapse of the building and waited to die. When all was said and done, there were worse ways to die than being sandwiched between two men I loved. My ears rang; I’d probably never hear again even if I didn’t die. But after a few minutes, when I realized I wasn’t dead, I tried to move and felt Dalph’s hands move on my back, and then some of Carlos’ weight shifted on top of me. And very faintly, through the tunnel of numb and muffled sounds, I heard Carlos.
“Ménage à trois, anyone?”
“Jackass,” I said mildly, feeling more than hearing Dalph’s laugh beneath me. “Get off of me, you’re heavy!”
Actually, I wasn’t sure any of us could move, and we didn’t have to, as helping hands quickly rushed to us and got us all back on our feet. The building had completely collapsed upon itself, and I didn’t know if that was evidence of Carlos’ skill or the intervention of the stones. I was afraid to ask and in the end, didn’t have to.
Carlos looked back at the ruins. “Say a prayer to the stones, guys. That building should have exploded like a firecracker. In every direction.”
“Could have gone all day without hearing that, thanks,” I said.
“I’m not a miracle-worker, Tess. Imploding a building takes a series of pre-set charges and a lot of calculation. I didn’t have the time or the material for that. But I figured that if the stones got us this far, they’d take care of us in the end.”
Dalph clapped his hand over Carlos’ shoulder. “Spoken like a true Truscan, my friend. Tess, you’re all right, both of you?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
“I think so, too, but you could ask me directly, you know, I’m right here!” Carlos observed, and neither Dalph nor I corrected his assumption that Dalph was referring to the two of us. We’d keep the little Warrior Princess to ourselves for a while longer.
“Well, then, I think it’s time for—”
I’m not sure what Dalph thought it was time for, as the stones thought it was tim
e for something else. From out of nowhere, rising eddies of wind began to pick up dust and swirl around us. And I do mean around us. I never felt the first brush of air. But the eddies escalated, and turned into whirlwinds, and then into small tornado-like funnels, and then into bigger ones, and I saw the Prian bodies begin to lift and rise up into the winds.
And I heard the shouts of Prians still obviously alive and in hiding, as the winds tore through Pria and found them, lifting them, along with all the Prian bodies, into the air above us, where the sky turned into a virtual whirlpool of swirling gray dust which gained speed until the air and the Prians, dead and living, spun in a circle so fast that they became blurs. And then there was a final roar, as though a door had cracked, and the whirlpool of wind, together with its cargo, simply disappeared.
When the dust cleared, only the Truscan Warriors remained standing.
I looked around and saw that someone had managed to move our mythical trio of faltons down and away from the castle doors. Then I saw Johnny striding toward us, flanked by the other two young rebels, Crayton and Cretor. No surprise there.
“Well, that’s the most efficient vacuum cleaner I’ve ever—” He broke off as he distinguished the two emaciated figures, sitting on the ground and guarded by a group of Tornans. His face went blank, and then, when he realized he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing, the sun emerged from behind his smile.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” He rushed toward Brenden and Madison, falling to his knees beside them, and putting one arm around each of them, pulled their heads onto his shoulders. “It’s really, really you?”
Both the brothers threw their arms around him and the three of them rocked back and forth, the emotion of the moment overwhelming them and everyone who watched.
“Where? How?”
“The dungeons,” Dalph answered. “I told you the stones ordered me not to blow the stronghold.”
“I don’t believe—”
“They cut off the heads of two of the fallen Tornans,” Madison explained. “And took our clothes and dressed the bodies in them.”
“And I left you here. Without looking,” Dalph said in as flat a voice as I’d ever heard him use.
“Hold it!” Madison shook his finger at his brother. “The only thing that kept us alive was the knowledge that you were on the throne of Trusca. Keeping it safe.”
“I should have looked.”
“Why?” This from hot-head Brenden. “To give Kruska three brothers to play with instead of just two?”
“I should—”
“You should have done exactly what you did, brother. That time wasn’t right. This time was. Now, are you going to take us home, or stand there and blame yourself for something that’s my fault? I shouldn’t have charged over the border,” Brenden admitted.
“Trusco’s sword!” exclaimed Madison. “Somebody write that down and get him to sign it! Quick!”
“Don’t push it, little brother. I’m in better shape than you are. And I might remind you that Baka had something to do with it, as well. We saw him, Dalph. Sniggering with the Prians as they took us. Did you know? Is the bastard still alive?”
“We suspected but couldn’t prove anything. Being an untried king, I could not risk it. But a few months ago he tried to deliver Tess to the Prians. I couldn’t prove that, either, but I am no longer an untried king. No, he’s not alive.”
“A traitor’s death?”
“Yes.”
“Good!” The satisfied expression on Brenden’s face was frightening, conveying so much more than the simple exclamation did, as I thought it would take a lot to compensate Brenden for the last fourteen years.
Carlos muttered sotto voce.
“Somehow, I don’t think they hung Baka, Tess.”
“I think you’re right,” I responded, from the corner of my mouth.
“Do we want to know, do you think, or are we too American?”
“I think we should drop it.”
“Works for me.”
Dalph glanced around, assessing the situation. “Johnny, casualties?”
“Not many, Dalph. Maybe twenty, possibly less. Unbelievable.”
“Then let’s get back to camp. Let Tess and my brothers rest while we bury our dead.”
“Abba?”
“What, son?”
“What do the stones say?”
Dalph cocked his head to one side and waited a few moments to answer.
“They say we’ve done well, son.”
“Will they ever talk to me, do you think?”
“I do truly hope not, Dal.”
“But now we know where to find them if we need them.”
Dalph tilted his head again before speaking. “No. No, I don’t think we do. I think they’ve relocated. But they’ll find us if they need to. Believe it.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
And so it was that, while following the orders of the stones, we brought Brenden and Madison back home. The Rata, already full of family and extended adopted family, would be even fuller, more alive, than it had ever been as the road into the coming years awaited.
Thus Trusca—proud, dignified, and true—entered her Golden Age, and her warriors, those Truscan, American, and hybrid Truscan-American Knights, spread out into the neighboring countries which heretofore had been overrun by Pria, and took them under her protection. A United Nations of a sort, Truscan style, as they rebuilt their own cities.
It took a long time for Brenden and Madison to recover, and truth be told, Kiera and I shed a good many private tears as we watched their determined progression back to health. I didn’t think that they’d ever physically be the men they would have been without captivity, but the Truscan-American spirit made up for any lingering shreds of physical weakness. As they gained strength, two things became obvious. After fourteen years of captivity, they were almost incapable of staying still and I thought that their restlessness, which kept them moving and on their feet as long as they had sufficient strength to put one foot in front of the other, was actually one of the keys to the astonishing physical recovery they did make. No Truscan had any concept of the meaning of the words “give up.”
The second thing that became unmistakably obvious was that during the past fourteen years, they had become almost symbiotic twins and were incomplete without one another, almost lost when, for some reason, they were not in each other’s immediate presence. I thought that would mitigate to some extent over the coming years, but doubted it would ever completely disappear, as for fourteen years, each was all the other had and had the Prians taken only one of them into captivity, I sincerely doubt that we’d have found him alive.
Because of these two things, it seemed almost destined that they became our Roving Ambassadors, and when they had sufficiently recovered, they became Dalph’s emissaries to our neighboring countries, assessing the damage to each caused by Pria, determining how and what they needed to recover, and how Trusca could best help them do it.
Carlos accompanied them quite frequently; another restless spirit born to be Indiana Jones but imprisoned in a corporation for most of his adult life. I thought there might be another reason, though. He was a Miami native, and I surmised he craved the sound and smell of the ocean which, we all agreed, had to exist somewhere in this world.
I knew I was right the day he sighed. “We’ve lost our tans, Tess.”
“Hate to break this to you, darlin’, but you are never going to lose your tan. You were born with it.”
“Well, I could still get darker. And you’ve definitely lost yours.”
“True on both counts. But you know, my tan used to come out of a bottle, not from the beach. It’s called self-tanning body lotion. Wonderful invention.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No. When did you think I had time to go to the beach? And anyway, I freckle if I get a real tan. Now that looks professional. Sorry you’re here, Carlos?”
There was no hesitation. “Oh, no! Not at all. But th
ings are kind of tame right now, you know?”
“Then I think it’s time to start a new quest. Go start one.”
“Quest?”
“You’re a Knight of the Truscan Round Table. Go find the ocean. In fact—” I paused, considering. “We don’t actually have a map of this world, you know, we have no idea of its size, or who else is living on it with us, besides Andovia, Motravia, Tarn and Frescia. How big are they, really? How big are we, really? Why don’t you start finding out? Go ye forth and find ye quest. I’m sure you can find some willing companions. The boys are getting restless, too, you know.”
Dal and Crayton and Cretor, having been baptized so young in Prian blood, were visibly bored stiff. How do you keep ’em down on the farm after they’ve seen Gay Paree?
He looked thoughtful for a moment and then nodded slowly.
“I believe I’ll do just that,” he said, and so began his personal search, an on-going and years-long quest to smell the briny air again. And whatever else he might find on the way.
The stones fulfilled their prophecy with Madeline’s birth, along with a bonus I didn’t discover until she was six months old.
Dalph and the Tornans were out during the full moon. There was no longer any necessity for the roving border patrols, but they still needed to run, and I think the Night Patrols had become the Tornan equivalents of “Boys’ Night Out.” I walked into the nursery and found the most adorable little fur-ball in her bed. When she saw me, she jumped on her hind-legs and placed her front feet on the bed rails, yipping in excitement.
I laughed as I picked her up, touching her nose to mine, and she proceeded to wash my face for me. “Well, well, sweetie, so Women’s Lib has come to Trusca! And aren’t you just Daddy’s girl?”
She licked harder and wiggled onto my shoulder in affirmation. I couldn’t wait for Dalph to get home.
“Did the stones tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“That your daughter was going to be a Tornan.”
“Maybe.”
“We’re not through, I’m assuming?”
“Oh, no.”
The next year, Madeleine welcomed her baby sister, McKay, named for Johnny, of course.
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