Ibenus (Valducan series)

by Seth Skorkowsky

  "Of course." He handed Gabi over to Luiza and together he and Malcolm guided Allan out and into the chair. The cast restricted knee movement, which resulted in his leg sticking straight out before him like a battering ram.

  "You good?" Malcolm asked, offering Ibenus once Allan was properly seated.

  Allan pressed his tongue against to roof of his mouth until the dulled pain from his rib subsided. "Yeah."

  "Hey, Mal," Luiza said.

  "Hi." He kissed Luiza on the cheek. "You look beautiful." Malcolm gave Gabi an appraising look, his brow raised. "So this is our newest knight in training?"

  "This is her. Say hello to your Uncle Malcolm."

  "So you two figured out which weapon she'll grow up to use?"

  She smiled to Matt, revealing white teeth. "We're still figuring that out. I think she'll take after her mother and use Akumanokira. Matt, of course, is rooting for Dämoren."

  "My money is on Dämoren," Schmidt said. Short scratches marred his left cheek, surrounded by a purple bruise.

  Matt nodded. "Thank you." He patted the large revolver slung under one arm. Bronze wolf heads capped its ivory handle.

  The old man tickled her belly. White tape bandaged most of his knuckles. "She's stubborn and a born troublemaker. Dämoren can't resist that."

  "Hey," Matt said in feigned annoyance.

  "Name one of her protectors that wasn't those things," Schmidt said.

  "I'm not a troublemaker."

  Malcolm snorted, eliciting a laugh from Luiza and Schmidt.

  Matt gave Allan a look. "See what I put up with?"

  "Sorry, mate," Allan said. "I'm with Schmidt on this one."

  "Everyone's a critic."

  Allan endured the condolences and well-wishes from the other knights. The tears at the corners of Luc's eyes when he said he wished he'd been there affected him the most. He'd never seen Luc cry, not even when their ranks were decimated. All of that was immediately forgotten as Chaya led Victoria out of the van.

  All eyes followed her but Victoria only looked at Allan and Ibenus.

  "Take Miss Martin to the first floor guestroom." Master Turgen didn't try to conceal the venom in his voice. "It has its own lavatory and we know there's nothing hidden there."

  "She came of her own free will," Allan said.

  "No," Turgen said. "She might not have resisted but she didn't come freely until she was caught. We will discuss this later once you are settled."

  Allan drew a breath to reply but a terse head shake from Victoria silenced him.

  "Am I to be denied Ibenus?" she asked, meeting Turgen's glare.

  The old man didn't look away. "Luc, please escort Miss Martin to her room."

  Allan squeezed Ibenus in his lap as Luc and Chaya led her away. Their feet clomped up a wooden ramp that had been erected over the side entrance stairs. Sawdust clung in some of the corners along the walk from when someone had obviously used a leaf blower to clean up the fresh construction.

  "Come on," Matt said, breaking the tense silence. "Let's get you inside before we add sunburn to your injuries." He pushed the chair up the ramp and stopped as Orlovski tapped out the keypad combination.

  "We set new codes and passwords," Turgen explained somewhere behind Allan.

  The door bolts thudded and Orlovski swung it open. There, in the giant mirror, Allan got the first true look at himself, his sunken eyes and three-day beard, an invalid pushed by his best friend as he held a sword he would never hunt with again. Allan looked away from the reflection, his gaze absently watching the inlaid symbols in the wooden floor tiles as Matt wheeled him down the hall.

  His days away from the manor had dulled Allan's immunity to the pungent herb and flower bouquets. Soon he'd again be so used to them that he wouldn't even notice. He thought again to the prophetic vision, his likely future as gardener. He'd have to get a prosthetic, maybe a greenhouse where everything was up on tables so he could reach it from his chair.

  "So this used to be some Nazi mansion?" Matt asked, breaking the line of thought.

  "Yeah," Allan said. "Well, they didn't build it. Just took it and added the shelter beneath for barracks or balls or whatever it was they had in mind. Allies dropped a bomb on it and that was that."

  "It's so weird."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "I don't know," Matt said. "Just not the kind of place you'd think about living. Bad vibes, you know?"

  Allan snorted "Your American is showing again. Finding real estate on this side of the world without dark history is impossible."

  "Eh, I guess. I suppose living in a Nazi mansion with a ballroom in the secret bunker is normal around here."

  Allan laughed, setting off the fractured rib. Wincing, he clenched his teeth until the pain passed. "It does sound a bit odd when you word it like that."

  Matt guided Allan into a near perfect reproduction of his upstairs bedroom, though the door was on a different side and Allan normally didn't decorate with a million flowers. There was also a private bathroom. "Here we are."

  Allan eyed the empty sword stand and grunted. Were they supposed to pretend Ibenus hadn't chosen a more capable protector?

  "So." Matt sighed. "Here's the question of the day. I'm sure you need to take a leak and get yourself cleaned up. You need help?"

  Allan craned his head up at him. "You offering to help me piss?"

  "Whatever you need, man."

  "I'm not a complete invalid."

  "No problem. Just want to make sure you're okay."

  Allan swallowed. Through the open door he could see the handles in and above the cast iron tub. He had one good arm and one good leg. He could do it. "Could you wait for me in here? You know, just in case?"

  "Of course."

  "Thanks, Matt. Thanks for coming. Both you and Luiza. It means a lot."

  "You're family, Allan. No need to thank us."

  #

  The bath went about as well as expected. That is to say that it didn't. Between not wanting to soak the leg cast and the difficulties with his arm and rib, Allan settled on performing a glorified and rather messy sponge bath. Removing the film left from his bed in that abandoned building and the car ride had refreshed him. He still felt it coating his foot, and he desperately wanted to clean it and scrub between his toes where it felt particularly gross, but that foot wasn't there any more. Only its ghost desired to be cleaned and groomed as its widow had been. Just ignore it.

  Shaving with his left hand had been more awkward than Allan had anticipated and he now had two nicks and a strip of missed stubble along his jaw line to show for it. Still, it felt good to be clean and to have done it himself.

  As promised, Matt had dutifully waited outside. "Everything all right?"

  "Splendid." Allan had figured out how to operate the chair with only one and a half hands, but he wasn't very fast and pulled to the left. In short, it was exhausting and not very good.

  Matt sat beside the bed, watching him struggle through the door before Allan finally conceded.

  "Can you give me a hand?"

  "Of course," he said hopping to his feet and taking control. He parked Allan beside the desk and gathered the clothes from the bathroom.

  Allan eyed Ibenus now resting in the stand and frowned.

  "You want me to move it?" Matt asked, dumping the laundry into a basket. "I can move her closer to the bed if you like."

  "Him," Allan corrected.

  Matt's helpful smile vanished, his face an unreadable blank. "It doesn't…feel right."

  "I agree, but that's how Victoria sees him, so that's what he is."

  "I don't care what she wants," Matt said. "She sold us out. Ibenus is yours."

  "No he isn't. Not any more. He bonded to Victoria. She sees him as a he so therefore he's a he," Allan said rapidly, forcing the words before his voice could crack.

  "But she doesn't deserve him."

  "That's not your call. It's not mine,
it's not Master Turgen's, or anyone else's but Ibenus'. He chose her and if he hadn't I'd be dead. Even if he hadn't," Allan gestured to his extended leg. "My life as a hunter is done. I can't carry him."

  Matt tightened his lips and shook his head. "It's wrong."

  "The weapons decide."

  "I know. I mean calling Ibenus he."

  "Akumanokira was a she until Luiza bonded to him. It's no different."

  "That was different. Kazuo was dead. You're not."

  "That doesn't matter," Allan said. "Ibenus has chosen. Victoria sees him as male. It's that simple."

  Matt glared at the khopesh. "I don't like it."

  "Please," Allan said. "For me. Ibenus is a he. It helps me…deal with it. Do you understand?"

  "Yeah," Matt said with a noncommittal nod. "For you."

  "Thank you." That tinge of betrayal rustled in the back of Allan's mind. He eyed the bronze sword. "I have a question."

  "What's that?"

  "Does Dämoren ever talk to you?"

  Matt blew a breath. "I'm not the best one to ask this, but yeah. She has. Ibenus talking to you?"

  Allan shook his head. "No. Never with words. But sometimes I get these feelings, you know? Like, I've had it where out of nowhere I just have to blink for no reason and I end up moving out of the way of something just in time. Taking Victoria was like that. I just had a feeling and I acted on it."

  Matt grunted. "No Dämoren's never warned me like that before."

  "So I keep wondering why Ibenus would have told me to take Victoria on. Did he know what would happen to me? If so, why didn't Ibenus warn me?"

  "Ibenus couldn't have known this was going to happen, man."

  "Why not?" Allan asked.

  "Because Ibenus loves you, that's why. Do you really think she…he wouldn't have warned you?"

  "Maybe he knew he couldn't stop it so he chose Victoria to prepare."

  Matt shook his head. "No. If Ibenus knew what was going to happen to you, he would have known about her."

  "You're probably right." Allan scratched his arm. The painkillers were wearing off. Time to beg Mal for another dose.

  Matt blew a sigh, washing away the distasteful expression. "So how about some food? You hungry?"

  Allan's stomach gurgled at the mention. "Very. I'd even eat Orlovski's eggs right now."

  Matt laughed. "I think we can do better than that." He opened the bedroom door and began wheeling Allan toward it, when Master Turgen stepped inside and rapped lightly on the frame. Schmidt stood behind him.

  "All settled?" Turgen asked.

  "Fine," Allan said. "About to get some food."

  "Understandable. Do you have time for a word?"

  "As long as there's food involved."

  "Easy enough." He looked at Matt.

  "Well, then," Matt said, taking the hint. "I'll go see if Luiza needs anything." He pushed Allan out into the hall. "I'll catch you later, okay?"

  "All right," Allan said.

  "Is the room satisfactory?" Turgen asked as Matt left.

  "It's fine." He turned up to Schmidt. "I wanted to thank you for coming for me. That was…that was incredible."

  Max smiled. "No need to thank me. I would have done that for any of our knights."

  "Well you did it for me, so thank you. I can't imagine how difficult that was."

  "Extremely." He took the back of Allan’s chair and began slowly pushing him toward the dining room. "My body is reminding me of that. There was a time I could have done that far faster and with less…bumps along the way."

  Turgen shook his head as he walked alongside them, his cane tapping the floor. "You're fortunate you didn't break anything or kill yourself attempting that."

  "I wouldn't have attempted it if I didn't believe I could. As for risk, that is our business. It feels good to be earning scars again."

  "Now you'll be here again, mending them."

  Allan caught the image of the three of them in one of the floor to ceiling mirrors in the hall; a sad picture of lost glory.

  "We'll provide you with the best doctors to help you adjust," Turgen said to Allan, his free hand gesturing as he spoke. "Physical therapy and recovery. Don't worry about any of that. I had been considering installing a lift for some time so we will go ahead with that modification if we decide to stay."

  "We're leaving?" Allan asked.

  "Very likely, depending on what TommyD knows and what he's capable of. Some of our more…precious items are being sent back to Chile. Luc will go with them."

  "Are we sure Chile is safe?"

  The old man opened his hand. "Victoria never knew where it is. So it's reasonably safe. Still, this madman has proven to be very resourceful."

  Allan frowned. He liked this house. Loved it, actually. He'd designed the library and had spent countless hours hanging portraits and setting tiny tiles. His knees and back ached at the thought of doing that all again. Well, the tiling at least. Someone else would have to get portraits now.

  Schmidt steered him into the dining room and set him before the table. The smell of cooking cheese and meat from the kitchen roused another grumble in Allan's stomach. Schmidt limped off through the door and Turgen filled water glasses.

  He took a seat opposite Allan. "My deepest condolences, Allan. This is a terrible business."

  "Thank you." He eyed the kitchen door. The old man could at least let him eat before the guilt-trip came down.

  Master Turgen touched his glass, slowly rotating it like a jeweler inspecting a stone. "Wounds heal. But the loss of a weapon is more than physical." He met Allan's eyes. "I want you to know that if you need anything, anything at all, or just need to talk, Max and I are here for you. We understand."

  "I will. Thank you."

  Turgen sipped his water. "The bond will never go away. It merely changes, but only on the weapon's end. For us, relinquishing our control, our duty, is extremely difficult. I don't want you to feel alone."

  "I won't."

  The old knight leaned back into his seat. He idly twisted the ring on his little finger. "It is a misconception that hunters are immune to depression and that no hunter has ever taken their own life. However, there is a difference between suicide and giving up. Many former knights have wasted away, become dependent on alcohol or other vices. Tom and I used to spend many hours together after he had lost his leg. Eslarin was under Yev's protection at that time and Rowlind was under Gabriel's. We were proud of our former students, but…seeing our blades in the hands of another, no matter how much we loved them, was never easy. When Gabriel was killed and Rowlind broken, I thought I was going to die."

  Allan had been reaching for his own glass, but stopped at Master Turgen's mention of Rowlind. Master Turgen had never once discussed his sword after she was destroyed, her broken blade driven through his former apprentice.

  "The only thing that kept my sanity," Turgen continued, "was the need to protect the Order. After Yev's murder and the destruction of Eslarin, Tom gave up. Of course he assured me that he was only grieving but I could see it in his eyes. When Anya betrayed us and set fire to the archives, Tom didn't hesitate. He saved the library, but I have no doubt he knew he would die to do it. I believe he wanted his final act to mean something."

  Afraid speaking might shatter this strange openness, Allan sipped his water.

  "You never knew Max before he'd passed Lukrasus to Jean. To you he's always been a Master, even after Jean's death. The man you hunted with in Paris was the old Max. Malcolm commented how unusual he was, joking and showing off, always insisting on being first to the danger. That was the Max I first met. Age didn't change him, not in that way. Passing his sword to another was what made him the…bulldog, I believe you've called him."

  Allan smiled guiltily. He glanced to the kitchen door, making sure Schmidt wasn't there. "Among other things."

  "I don't want your grief to make you a bulldog. I don't want you to give up and run towards
death. I failed Tom, and to some extent I failed Max. I don't want to fail you, Allan."

  The kitchen door opened and Schmidt came through carrying a plate.

  "Promise me you'll talk to me if you need to," Turgen said as Schmidt set the plate down. Steam rose from the croque-monsier, blanketed in melted cheese and folds of ham peeking from the edges. Allan's mouth watered at the aroma.

  "I promise," Allan said, picking up his utensils. "Thank you, Master Schmidt."

  Allan scarfed the sandwich down as fast as he dared without burning his mouth. The two men sat silently until he was finished.

  "Better?" Turgen asked.

  "Very much, thank you."

  Schmidt smiled. "My pleasure. I would offer you a drink but…medication does not mix well."

  Allan glanced at the crystal bottle of brandy against the far wall. "It's all right," he lied. A drink sounded marvelous.

  "Allan, we wanted to discuss with you your new duties," Turgen said.

  "I see." He really did want that drink now.

  "We had previously discussed me taking you on as my replacement with antiques and my network. With recent events, I would like to move forward with that."

  "I…I see," Allan said. He'd wanted this for so long, dreamed of it, and now that it looked to finally be happening he didn't feel anything. "I would enjoy that."

  Turgen's somber face cracked with a moment's grin. "It's a slow transition. It will take years and, even then, not all of my contacts may follow along, so you'll need to make new ones, maybe even cultivate some that I could not."

  "I understand."

  "Your duties as Librarian won't change of course," Schmidt added. "This will simply be something additional."

  Allan nodded, feeling a bit of relief, though the idea they'd revoke his job as Librarian hadn't even crossed his mind.

  Turgen leaned forward, folding his hands atop the table. "The topic we wanted to discuss is that we have agreed that you would be a perfect choice for Master Knight."

  Allan blinked. "Master?"

  "Yes. You more than meet the required attributes."

  Meaning I no longer have a weapon.

  "You're a leader," Turgen continued. "Well respected, and we believe you can handle the higher operations and responsibilities."