“Disarm—I win,” Conlan said with a smug smile. “You led with the wrong foot,” he pointed out. His words were met with laughter and rowdy clapping as the Protectors gave him an enthusiastic round of applause.
Still doubled over, her wrist twisted painfully in Conlan’s hand, Eleanor looked up at him—and he seemed to notice the pain in her eyes for the first time. Shocked, he let her go, and she folded down to the ground, gasping for breath, rubbing her wrist.
“I got carried away. Are you okay?” Conlan said softly, switching back to English, looking horrified as he crouched next to her.
“Ow!” she gasped. “I’ll be fine Conlan, it’s okay,” she added hurriedly, seeing the look of distress on his face. “I really need to put more practice into where my feet go.”
Conlan looked as if he wanted to wrap his arms around her, but ran a gentle hand over her head instead. A sea of Protectors quickly surrounded them, wanting to know where Conlan had learnt to fight and how many men he thought he could take on at once. Eleanor headed for the cooking fire, leaving Conlan to his victory, Davlin following a few steps behind her.
Conlan finished assigning out teachers, giving responsibility for Kip and Arran to Amelia, who both seemed happier with the assignment than Moylan had been with his. And, as he expected, Will got stuck with Mickle. The older man gave him a cold, unfriendly stare, then stalked off to his workshop, leaving Will wondering what his problem was.
The exercise and training had built up ravenous appetites in everyone, and the substantial early-lunch-cum-late-breakfast ordered by Conlan was gratefully received. Over their meal, Conlan explained that Eleanor and Davlin needed assistance getting the equipment Remic was going to provide back from Gallendary, especially as they would need four horses to pull the two carts they had asked for, so Will and Moylan were given the task of helping. The idea was that the four of them would ride Brutus, Pal, Lady and Moss, Davlin’s horse, to Gallendary so they could bring back the carts with the horses paired in the traces. Will had asked what size the carts were going to be. The player troupes they had seen in the past usually had only a single cart and horse, but they had been small—six or seven people at most. This would be a much larger troupe. Conlan had reassured Will that troupes of greater number did exist, but tended to operate in the more populated areas of Mydren, where they could earn more money, areas they had always tried to avoid in the interest of safety.
After lunch, with several hours before they needed to head for town, Will grabbed his last set of clean clothes and some of Amelia’s soap, and headed for the stream. The morning’s exercise had made him overly aware of how much he needed a wash.
He scouted up the stream, looking for a place where the water was shallower, allowing him to wash without full immersion. I’m going to have to do this carefully—this water is lively. His energy was pulsing again just being this close to the stream. Climbing onto a large rock that looked out over the pool, he closed his eyes and tried to pull his control together. Letting the water’s calm spill through his mind, he concentrated on levelling out his energy so that he could keep a firm grip when he got in. He had just about got a handle on it when Amelia’s energy shoved him, fragmenting his control on impact.
WILL! HELP!
Amelia’s desperate yell echoed through his head, her energy string hitting him with enough force to knock him off his feet and into the pool. The water’s ice-cold grip travelled instantaneously through the thin material of his shirt and trousers and filled his boots. The weight began dragging at him while the cold seeped into his bones, taking time to numb every inch of his flesh on the way. And with his sudden, totally uncontrolled immersion, Will’s energy pulsed and flared, the water churning around him as if it were boiling, leaving him weak and disoriented. With effort, he struggled to the surface, gasping for breath, and swam for the bank, coughing and spluttering as he pulled himself free from the heart-freezing shock.
I’m coming, Amelia. Are you okay? Where are you? What’s the problem? Will asked, shivering and working very hard to keep the problems he was having from being revealed through their connection.
I’m with Lady. I’m fine, but I think they’re going to hurt Kip! Amelia told him, the force of her panic heightening his.
Wiping the water out of his eyes, Will stumbled to his feet and started running in Amelia’s direction. Cold and wet, with water squelching in his boots, he attempted to use his energy to dry himself. It slipped again, leaping in intensity, then plummeted, nearly taking his consciousness with it. Will careened out of control. His shoulder clipped a tree and he went sprawling into the dirt, bouncing to a bruised, dizzy stop.
Crap! Crap! Crap!
Will? What’s the matter? Are you okay? Strangely, Amelia’s concern was taking the edge off her panic.
Yes, just not looking where I’m going. I’m coming. What’s going on? Pulling his feet underneath him, he forced his body up and set off again, pushing himself to make up for the time he had just lost.
I don’t really get it, Amelia said, but I think Mickle and Teris want to do something to Kip’s mule. He’s getting really upset about it, trying to stop them. They’re arguing.
Keep out of their way—they’re dangerous men. I’m coming. Will extended his stride, legs pumping, heart hammering—and energy dropping. He tore through camp at a dead run, heading for the area on the other side that they were using for stabling.
Don’t be silly, Will, I’m not going to let them hurt Kip, Amelia snapped.
Seeing him approach, Freddie moved to intercept him. “Hi Will, I—” Confusion furrowed his brow as Will dashed past. “Hey! Where’s the fire?” he yelled after him. “And why are you soaking wet?”
Will arrived winded and exhausted at their corral and stood catching his breath, trying to work out what was going on. Kip, his arms wrapped tightly around his mule’s neck, was wailing in unison with the loud, harsh, honking braying coming from the obviously distressed animal. Amelia stood in front of Kip and the mule, facing Mickle and Teris, a furious look on her face. They took steps towards her and Amelia held out her hand in the universal sign for stop.
“Stop, mutton chops!” she yelled in Dwarfish.
Will suspected she had been going for ‘morons’, a similar-sounding word, but he decided mutton chops covered it nicely.
Mickle and Teris shot each other confused looks, but then their faces became determined and purposeful again and, fists clenched, they advanced straight into one of Amelia’s shields. They staggered back, rubbing their heads. Teris tentatively reached out with his fingers and felt the shield, surprised awe on his face. Mickle gave him a scornful look, marched forward and slammed his hand into the invisible wall, giving no outward indication of the pain this must have caused him. His lip curled and he let out a nasty growl.
“Give us the mule!” he demanded.
Out of her depth, linguistically speaking, Amelia shrugged and shook her head.
“What is going on here?” Will yelled over the noise the mule was making, taking sloshing steps towards the group, fighting his body’s need to shiver.
Mickle turned, his gaze taking in the dripping clothes, more confusion temporarily crossing his face before his hard, business-like expression returned.
“We were sent to get my horse and that mule—Conlan wishes to sell them in Gallendary. I am to accompany you when Lady Eleanor returns there later. These idiots are keeping me from my orders,” Mickle said stiffly.
Will bristled. “Did you just call Amelia an idiot?”
Mickle’s left eye twitched and he shook his head. “No, I meant Kip.”
Now angry on Kip’s behalf as well as Amelia’s, Will glared at the odious man, making his voice as hard as he could when he spoke. “I do not know the full story here, but from Kip’s reaction I would guess he does not want you to take his mule.”
Mickle gave a bark of contempt. “Conlan wants the mule sold. My orders are to get it ready, and I will follow my orders.”
“Then go and tell Conlan that Kip objects to this plan, so he can give you some new orders!” Will snapped.
Mickle’s eyes flew open in shock. “Conlan gave an order,” he insisted stubbornly.
Will rolled his eyes. “Yes, and it turns out that this order is wrong, you—”
That was as far as he got before Mickle gasped and swung a fist at him. He should have seen it coming, should have been able to block, move, punch back, anything really, but after their strenuous morning exercise, his surprise swim and mad dash, he was drained. And in the state he was in, pulling more energy quickly would most likely cause him to black out. As a result, his responses where sluggish, and Mickle’s fist struck him squarely on the chin. The heavy blow forced his teeth together with a crunch that sent pain shooting through his jaw and marching into his head. The world spun and Will collapsed.
Will! Amelia shrieked, running to his side, kneeling, hands gently touching him. Are you okay? What do I do?
I’ll be fine—I just need to sit, Will muttered, swallowing the coppery taste in the back of his throat, profoundly grateful that replying had not required him to speak aloud. Blood was filling his mouth, and on investigation, he discovered he had bitten his tongue. The world continued to spin around him as Amelia helped him up. He watched through blurred, watery eyes as Freddie burst through the bushes and charged Mickle, dragging him to the ground.
Amelia, can you use your shield to separate Mickle and Freddie? Will asked. She watched them for a moment, their arms locked, struggling.
No—they’re too close to each other. I could push them both over, but it would hurt Freddie, and he seems to be winning. Will nodded and tried to stand—but his jelly-like limbs just deposited him back on the ground. Frustrated, he offered a tight smile to Amelia’s fright and tried again, but with the same result.
Freddie was holding his own against Mickle until Teris decided to be move in, jumping Freddie just as his powerful punch had floored Mickle. To Will’s surprise, Amelia leapt to her feet and pulled her energy string from his head. Despite his attempt to grab her, she let out a yell of outrage and, forgetting all about her abilities in her fury, launched herself physically at Teris: tearing with her nails, kicking, punching and screaming like a banshee. Wow! She’s fearless. Showing no signs of caring about her own safety, Amelia punched and kicked her way over to help Freddie. And over and above all this noise and confusion, the mule never once let up its ear-splitting honking.
Cursing himself, hating the weakness that gripped him, Will could do nothing more than watch as Freddie and Amelia fought his battle for him.
At last the mule stopped its braying and Kip’s wailing stuttered to nothing. The sudden silence felt deafening. Turning his head, Will saw Eleanor marching towards the still-flailing pile of fists, arms and legs that was Freddie, Mickle, Teris and Amelia. Davlin moved to her side and pushed an arm out across her chest, bringing her to frustrated stop.
“Fine then,” she growled, with a withering look. “You separate them!”
Davlin gave her a grin and started pulling the combatants apart, with a few judicial kicks to the Protector’s bottoms as he did so. “What are you doing?” Eleanor asked, looking from Mickle to Teris. She repeated the question in English, looking at Amelia and Freddie. There was a heartbeat of silence and then all four of them began speaking at once.
“Enough!”
Conlan’s snarling order as he arrived behind Eleanor was sharp and commanding, and even though he had spoken in Dwarfish, it was clear Freddie and Amelia had understood him, as the loud explanations ceased.
“Mickle,” Conlan snapped, looking down at the man. “Get up and report!”
Mickle scrambled to his feet. “I am sorry, Conlan. I was trying to carry out your orders regarding the mule, and Kip refused to hand the animal over. The Avatar of Air, under some misguided impression that Kip had a choice, attacked us, so we fought back.”
Amelia and Freddie’s energy strings barrelled into Will. He winced at the pain, but began translating for them.
He’s lying! Amelia said, and Will felt Freddie’s anger roll through their minds.
Yes, I know, Will agreed. But we can explain it to Conlan in a minute if necessary. Let’s see how he handles this.
Conlan looked past Mickle to where Kip stood, his hand resting on his mule’s shoulder, big slow tears still running down his face. The mule, for his part, was now happily munching on a bush, oblivious to the mayhem he had inadvertently caused.
“Kip,” Conlan said quietly. “Come here, please.”
Kip dropped his head and reluctantly came to stand in front of Conlan. He wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hands and sniffed.
“Kip, explain the problem to me,” Conlan said, his voice still quiet and calm.
Kip nodded, getting off to a stuttering, halting start. “I—I—was brushing my mule, like I do every day. I look after him well—and I was telling Lady Amelia the words for the horse equipment as I did,” he said, glancing at Amelia, who gave him an encouraging smile. “And then Mickle came and said you wanted to sell my mule.” The tears started again and Kip fought to get himself under control. “My mule was a present from my father. My mother died, and Father said I had to leave because he was getting a new wife and there was no room for me. He told me to go find an apprenticeship. I was too young for them, but the Protectors, they took me. I went to tell my father and he said it was good I had found somewhere befitting my intellect. I asked him if I could take a horse with me, and he said that I should take the mule in the stables, as that was what I deserved.” Kip lifted his head, smiling through his tears. “He must have been very proud of me to give me such a fine animal, and I have always taken good care of him…” Kip paused, his head dropping again, his voice becoming a whisper. “Please, Conlan, please do not sell him. Alaric is my friend.”
Freddie’s pity ran through their minds. Oh, poor Kip.
It’s okay, Amelia said. He’s with us now. Conlan will look after him.
Affection in his eyes, Conlan regarded at Kip for a moment.
“Why did you call your mule Alaric?” he asked softly.
Kip smiled. “My mother said that Alaric was a great king and a gift to his people. My mule is a great mule and was a gift to me.”
A small, amused smile lifted the corner of Conlan’s mouth before he seemed to remember where he was and his usually emotionless expression fell back into place.
“You know of Alaric, the first king?” he asked, giving Will a quick glance of surprise.
Kip nodded. “Every child is told of the before times, of the great kings that protected us from the elements. It is a secret, not something to be discussed outside the house, but everybody knows. The stories do not talk about Avatars, though.”
I bet they don’t, Freddie muttered when Will translated.
There was silence while Conlan gazed at Kip thoughtfully. This was new information. They had always operated under the assumption that very few people knew of the old times, of the kings who had once defended them. If the general population knew about Alaric, that could play into Conlan’s favour when he announced himself the direct ancestor of the first king.
“You may keep your mule, Kip. But in future, if you have a problem with one of my orders, please come and tell me,” Conlan said.
Stunned, Kip gazed at Conlan with devoted adoration.
“But… his father did not…” Mickle started, snapping his mouth shut as Conlan turned to glare at him.
“Kip’s mule was a gift from a proud father; it stays. Anyone wishing to argue this point—speak now,” Conlan said, sweeping his gaze across them all, his meaning clear.
There was silence as they looked at the floor.
Told you! Amelia said, as she unconsciously sent a soft breeze across the corral in her delight, causing Will to lose his fight to control himself, his body shivering violently.
Yes… but I’m not sure that’s going to be enough to stop Mickle
from finding Kip later and telling him what his father meant! Freddie said.
Amelia’s protective feelings wrapped round them. Then we’ll just have to make sure Kip doesn’t end up alone with Mickle.
Satisfied with the lack of any challenge to his orders, Conlan focused on the bruised participants in the recent skirmish.
“And as for you,” Conlan snapped, glaring at Freddie, Amelia, Mickle and Teris in turn, before sweeping his gaze to include Will. “We have thousands of enemies out there just itching to fight us, yet you would waste time and effort fighting each other?” He shook his head. “I am giving you all washing-up, mucking-out and grooming duties for the next five days. You will work together on these tasks, and you will deal with each other in a gracious and friendly manner. Do I make myself clear?”
Will and Teris nodded, and once Will had translated, Freddie and Amelia added their own nods of agreement.
“I would rather take a flogging,” Mickle muttered to his feet.
“Be careful what you wish for, Mickle, because if it comes to that I will not be merciful,” Conlan said, his tone ice-cold. “However, if you wish for it, it is not a punishment, is it? You will wash dishes for Kip, and groom and muck out the horses with the others. Am I understood?”
“It is the punishment for a small child,” Mickle argued. “I would—”
“If you insist on acting like a child, Mickle,” Conlan interrupted, a thin growl of disdain under the Dwarfish, “I shall punish you as one. Do you understand the punishment I have given you?”
“Yes,” Mickle said sullenly. “May I be dismissed?”
Will (Book 2) Page 11