by P. S. Power
At eight he walked out in front of his own house and down the street to the left, a dirt path of packed earth between large magical dwellings, there were twelve of them in all. At the end of the row there was a stone square. It wasn't real he knew, not even focus stone. His mind found the pattern without stress or trying, feeling the magic behind it.
Ah.
This was Sam's. It was a good idea, an artificial stone space for events. The pattern was a little simple, but the illusion was solid. Tor just stood and waited at the appointed place. Not moving at all. A few people came after a minute. Though Tor didn't know who they were. Rather, He probably did, but he couldn't tell at the moment. At least he wasn't nervous.
Then why would he be? He was weakened. That was still true, but he could see it now, not perfectly, but there, inside him, was everything he needed to win. It would start with the Baron’s own fear. Tor forced a calm smile to his face, knowing it would look out of place and happy. Otherwise he didn’t even move.
Finally two men walked to the center of the space, one in red, the other all green. The red one turned and looked away from the center, to where a line of men with weapons, three deep, stood along one side. The Baron’s military forces? His guard? They all wore blue. The man himself walked out of their midst, looking huge even from across the square. Over seven foot tall and decently broad across the shoulders.
It would work against him, Tor knew.
There were people all around. More than Tor could be bothered to guess at. The man in green waved him forward gently when the man in red and the Baron walked to the center, before even calling anything out. The last time he'd seen that kind of thing, there had been more yelling.
When he stepped up to the center, ready to fight, ready to dive into his own mind, to truly lose himself to the deep, there was speaking. Tor could barely understand most of it at first, the Baron leaning over to hiss at him finally. The voice was deep and low, hidden from everyone, except perhaps the brightly clad people next to them. The man in red stiffened when he heard what was said.
“See that little boy over there? The black haired one that looks a bit like you? When I'm done killing you, I'm going to have my way with him. You think you're so smart? You and Smythe didn't even ask about boys, did you?” There was laughter then.
Tor glanced at the boy, who stood by two women, both of whom looked horribly drawn and tense. One he recognized a bit. She wasn't blue this time, but Lady Priscilla was the one on the left. She had a black eye, covered by a lot of make-up, but visible even from a hundred feet away. Tor waved, which got her to raise her hand tentatively.
It wasn't a greeting though. A few seconds later a large man in black velvet ran out into the square, a large casket following him, float plate on it, a true cargo plate, done in copper. He moved into place in from of the woman opened the lid, which got a gasp from the audience on that side.
Tor looked at the man in green next to him and gave a single nod.
“Note two please.” Tor spoke, his voice devoid of life. He said the words, but barely knew he spoke. It was the right call though, he could tell already. The fields around him were lining up.
The man nodded and took out the paper quickly.
“Sir Torrance Baker, Knight of the realm, the Wizard Tor, Counselor of magics, Troll of Galasia, offers this gold and funerary gear to the Lady Priscilla along with his condolences on the death of her husband.” The words from the man wearing green were powerfully loud, resonating enough that it would have been scary if Tor wasn't moving even deeper into his own mind, slowing everything around him.
The man backpedaled fast then and waved the fellow in red back too.
“Clear the field!” The man screamed. It sounded slightly scared for some reason. After a few seconds, running, the man in red yelled the same thing.
Then Tor attacked.
Or rather tried too. The giant Baron who'd just been taunting him, saying he was going to rape a little child that looked like Tor and liked to do that to young boys, actually ran backwards then, scrambling a hand under his nice black velvet clothing. He pulled a knife, which got a hiss from the crowd. People were calling something out, but it didn't matter. Tor watched the man move in slow motion.
It wasn't scary at all.
Tor was, he thought, running towards the man, who was at least trying to lunge at him, eighteen inch blade, thin and sharp looking, moving towards his head. Taking half a moment, Tor smiled. He felt like he was moving under water or something, his movements, heavy against the air, it pulled at him, slowing him greatly, but Rochester moved slower still.
This wouldn't, Tor knew, last long. He needed to end this fast or the man would simply kill him as promised. He rolled on the ground and focused all his attention on the other mans front leg, foot lashing out hard, snapping against the side of it, forcing it back faster than the man could adapt. It made a very deep popping sound.
Tor wasn't really sure, but he thought the other guy may have screamed about then. Well, what had he expected? Even if Tor had originally come for a happy little fist fight, the second the Baron pulled a weapon the game changed, didn't it? Tor scooted forward, very low to the ground, and kicked at the other knee. It wasn't as cool looking as what he'd done the time they met before, but it worked, making another snapping sound on the third kick, the blows not strong, but dead on target.
“Fuck you bastard!” The giant roared, trying to stab him again as he fell.
Tor just rolled to the left side, getting out of the way of the falling man. He was on the ground, but still fought, trying to sweep his long right arm out and slash Tor to ribbons. It was a good plan, except that Tor just rolled away and stood, gasping for breath. Walking carefully in a circle around the man, who tried to scramble in a circle and made the mistake of standing himself, Tor grinned.
“No, thank you.” The answer sounded flat to his own ears, soft and relaxed.
Tor jumped in and kicked, a high stomp for him, hitting the man in the tailbone, knocking him back to the ground. Sending the knife flying. He walked to the blade and looked around. Behind him stood the royal family, and a cohort of Royal Guards.
“Wensa, get this off the field will you?” He used a foot to slide the blade towards the woman in her purple and black uniform. Nodding, not even stepping on the stone of the court, she picked it up.
The rest of the fight was harder.
Not more dangerous. It was hard because the man started crying. It was pitiful. Tor almost wanted to quit, to let the man go and just tell him to fix his ways. But really, it was too late for that wasn't it? He'd just get a healing device and fix the damage. Then he'd be back. Or he'd abuse that boy. Going deeper, having roused from those depth by the action a bit, he made his decision.
Grimly, Tor moved in and kicked the man in the back of the head, over and over again, until he didn't move any more. Then he rolled him over and sighed.
“Goodbye Baron Diddles.” Tor said, not bothering to be quiet about it.
Then he started stomping on the man’s throat. It took… forever. Ten minutes or more, for the man to finally die. It was hideous. More horrible than he could bare, nearly. He already heard the man, standing behind him, laughing.
“Think you won? You just set off a chain of events you can't even imagine fool!” The voice chortled at him.
Tor just stood, mind ready, chest heaving, gasping for breath.
Waiting.
This probably didn't make sense to anyone else, but it did to him. If the man still had life in him, a healing device might just save him. By waiting like this, standing over him, not leaving the field, Tor was ensuring that option was off the table. The beating he'd somehow managed to deliver to the monster in front of him was severe, but it was this, just standing like he was, that was the actual murder. The seconds stretched out, turning to minutes.
The stench of death filled him then, worse than he'd ever encountered before, he ignored it. It would be around for a while after all.
About ten minutes later, maybe less, Rolph walked out onto the stone and slowly put a hand on his shoulder.
“Tor? Are you all right?” The words were ponderous, slow and almost unrecognizable as words at all.
Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his thoughts and let himself start to come towards the surface. He nodded but didn't explain why he stood, just waiting. This was something that he could talk about later, if need be. Maybe. No one would be able to understand though, would they? It wasn't just about protecting himself. If that had been the case, then he would have healed the man minutes ago himself and left already. Even if it meant being challenged again later by the guy.
But he hurt children. Tor nodded slightly then, knowing that he had to actually say something to his friend. Even if it didn't seem kind or good.
“We need to stay here for a few minutes and not let anyone else get to the body. Healing device…” He whispered the words, and his friend, looking scared, relaxed.
“Right.” Rolph turned and raised his right hand, there was no smile on his face, but his posture shifted, straightened and looked commanding suddenly.
“Royal physician, attend please?” He said loudly enough that everyone could hear.
Oddly enough the tiny dark woman that ran out in a white tunic and trousers, carrying a bag by her side, was Abbie, his great niece. She literally was a doctor, probably one of the best around even. Tor could see a trap there then. What if she insisted, as was her right and calling, on helping the man?
She did, of course.
For nearly an hour. Then she sighed and stood back, head bowed.
“He has passed and cannot be helped. I'm sorry.” She bowed, to Rolph first, then to Tor, who she took a step back from.
Tor got it.
He'd not only killed someone in front of her, but meant it. They didn't have violence in Afrak and before that point, she didn't really believe that her “Great-Uncle the Court Jester” could take a life. Then, he hadn't believed it himself. Not really. Not like this.
A minute later the King came forward and stood by him, the crowd had largely wondered off, except for the Baron’s military squad, who still stood nervously, as if waiting to attack. Finally Lady Priscilla walked over, the black haired boy, who looked about seven, and a twenty-something woman holding his hand, in tow.
“See Connor? He won't ever hurt you again, not ever.” Priscilla shook, but her words were firm. Tears moved down her face, the other woman’s too. The boy nudged the count with his foot.
Then he kicked the corps hard. It didn’t move.
Tor didn't have a problem with it, but the King looked at the boy, disproving.
“We should perhaps, not bait the Baron’s forces.” He said softly, looking at the three lines of blue clad men, who stiffened at the blow.
They didn't move though, a stirring coming from the far side of the square. Tor's side. He looked back to see what it was, his mind not quite making sense of it at first.
It was around two hundred people dressed in green and brown, holding force lances on the barons men. Tor had to look again though, because it wasn't just one side of the square, it was everyone, all around. It wasn't a few hundred, it was closer to a thousand, two thousand. The crowd had been a lot larger than he'd realized then, because most of them really had already just left.
Sighing Tor bowed in each direction, low and humble.
“It's fine. No need for violence. Give these men safe passage home please?” He said it loudly, but no one could hear him, not really, not until the King repeated it. Then it worked just fine.
Good.
No need to get anyone else killed that day. The Baron's forces probably didn't know why their old leader had to die that day. They'd come to see a dust-up, a giant fighting a little man, who they'd been told probably deserved the beating. Instead they'd witnessed this…
It left them at loose ends, no doubt.
Tor didn't know what to do next, not at all, but luckily for him, Rolph did. It involved whisking him away to the palace in a fast carriage. Tor didn't understand it all yet, his mind too deep still. Everything had started to move faster at least. Well, to him. It was still deadly slow, half speed it seemed, even as he crawled his way back up, fought to return to himself. For a few minutes he really wondered if he should. Life might just be easier if he stayed at the bottom of himself. No feelings, no desire to do anything…
But that couldn’t be. Tor had things to do. Like find who was trying to kill him so very hard, and why.
Finally, just as they landed in back of the palace itself, Tor came back to himself. The world reeked, but that was all right. He sighed. Rolph nodded at him, but didn't make him speak yet.
“I… Tor, what was that?” He said softly, after they settled to the ground, still sitting inside the carriage. “It wasn't… I don't know, it wasn't you. I didn't know you could move like that. Are you… Count Lairdgren?”
Tor blinked and shook his head.
“Nope, all me, unfortunately.” He took a huge shuddering breath. It tasted foul, of course. The scent of rot had infected his taste buds already.
Yummy.
“I have no clue where Burks is or I would have sent him instead, trust me… Did I… look strange?” It wasn't anything he'd thought of before. Still, he hadn't spoken or anything at first, had he?
“You know, Lyn offered to make herself look like me and fight him instead. She made a device to copy me. It's a solid work.” He was rambling but Rolph didn't stop him.
“He was going to… He said that Smythe and I forgot to ask if he liked little boys. He said he was going to rape that kid, when he was done killing me. I…” He shook his head.
“I couldn't risk it. He had to die.”
“The man was dead regardless Tor. Don't get me wrong, but if you'd lost, he wouldn't have walked out of that square alive. Did you see the look on his forces faces when everyone turned on them? Those people weren't armed like that to keep the peace. We may have to scramble to explain that many civilians with military weapons and shields though. I wonder how it happened?” His friend chuckled.
“Still, I doubt anyone will be challenging you to a fist fight any time soon. I nearly wet myself you know. Try not to scare me like that in the future will you?”
“Got it. Of course, if he let me pull out, or even run away, this wouldn't have happened.”
Then again, Tor knew, if he'd killed the man the first time, or even asked the right questions, Connor wouldn't have had months of abuse. It might have already been going on, or not, before then, but from the first time Tor met the Baron on, everything the man did wrong was on him too. Tor's fault.
Misery poured through him. Because in a very real way, every time the evil man had touched that child, it was like Tor had sanctioned it himself. That sent a shudder through him and finally caused tears to come to his eyes. He stammered an explanation to his friend, but Rolph got it. He didn't try to deny it either. Or say it wasn't his responsibility.
This time it just was.
It was the responsibility of any adult to stop such things, if they could.
And Tor had failed.
Finally he was walked in to a room in the palace proper that had a half dozen sofas and even more chairs set up. There was a nice red carpet with deep blue patterns along the edges. Flowers he thought. It was hard to pay attention to it. At least the tears dried before everyone started to come in.
“Hey everyone.” Tor said, almost no energy left in his voice at all. No big mystery there, he’d been burning all he had during the little event and pushing like an insane person.
Literally.
It wasn't absolutely everyone, just the royal family, his brother Weasel and his mother. Tor looked at her, as she scowled, and got ready for whatever harangue was no doubt coming. She took a breath and then…
Said nothing.
After a half minute or so she let her breath out, a shaking, almost shuddering sound and started crying. Sil
ently, but with large fat tears that ran down her face, leaving bold glistening tracks.
“Here I was just afraid you were going to die. I'm so sorry Torrance.” Her words were dark and sad.
Then, she knew, at least a little, what he was going through and would face over this, didn't she?
Suddenly she was hugging him, the others holding back at first, letting his mother have a moment with him alone.
“Yeah, you and me both. It had to be done this time. I…” He waved his hands at Rolph, hoping he would explain, but it was a voice from the door that spoke, one he didn't recognize at all.
“He was… raping young Connor ma'am. I couldn't stop him. None could in the barony. The new missus, Lady Priscilla, she tried and was beaten horribly for it, over and again. She didn't stop though. Even when I thought he'd kill her at times. He used that to taunt Lord Baker, knowing as how he wouldn't abide by it. He told us all he would. Planned to use the Lord's current health to kill him.” The voice came from the twenty-something woman he'd seen earlier. He didn't recognize her from anywhere else, but she was tall, noble height easily and stood next to Priscilla and the boy, who looked at the floor, tears in his eyes as they spoke of it.
It wasn't his shame though. That belonged to the evil man that had done it… and Tor.
He stood and walked over to the boy, who was darker than he was, but lighter than most. Tor knelt first, then lowered himself all the way to the floor. Right cheek pressing the carpet and his own tears started again.
“I failed you by not finding out about him sooner. I had the chance and the right to question him and didn’t do it correctly. If I had, I would have killed him earlier. I cannot ask forgiveness, for it has not been earned. I ask only that if payment be required for my failure, that you assess the cost from me alone, not those I serve.” Then Tor went silent. So did the rest of the room.
The boy stared at him like he had a second head. That was fine, everyone else was too.