Will (Book 2)

by S. F. Burgess

  They came to a halt, Will attempting to catch his breath while not breathing in the smoke. He failed and coughed furiously.

  “What did this?” Cai asked in horrified awe.

  “A stupid idea,” Freddie muttered in English. Amelia gasped; running forward, she crouched next to what, Will realised with a sinking feeling, was a body.

  “Davlin?” she murmured.

  Will knelt at the other side. Davlin’s clothes were charred and smoking, his hair crisped, and red sores where his clothes had burnt through drew Will’s attention away from the cuts and bruises. With trepidation and a heavy heart, knowing his efforts with the gunpowder were responsible for the pain and destruction, Will searched Davlin’s neck for a pulse. He was surprised when he found one.

  “Is he still alive?” Conlan asked, his voice flat.

  Will looked up, and seeing the pain in Conlan’s eyes he nodded. “Yes, but he is badly injured.”

  “Where are Eleanor and Arran?” Freddie asked, looking around them.

  “Someone was here,” Amelia said quietly, in slow Dwarfish, pointing out the outline of debris-free carpet under and to the side of Davlin. “He tried to shield them from the blast.”

  “They were trying to get into the Lords’ day room,” Cai said, pointing through the wrecked doors. “Perhaps they went there.”

  Not waiting to see if anyone followed, Conlan limped towards the room, blood from his injury beginning to seep through the hastily applied bandage.

  “Go with him,” Will ordered the men stood around them. “Amelia and I will follow in a moment.” They rushed to obey, and Will turned to Amelia, speaking English in soft sympathy. “There’s nothing we can do for Davlin right now. He’s just going to have to find the strength to keep breathing until we finish this. We have to leave him and help Conlan.”

  Amelia raised a tear-stained face, but Will could see the solid, strong, immovable core of her being as she nodded and stood.

  They followed the others into the Lords’ day room, stepping carefully around the broken door. It was a large, square, richly decorated space, with a high painted ceiling. On the wall at the back of the room and the wall to the right of them were windows with high-backed seats arranged before them. An elegant stone fireplace graced the wall to their left, the still-smoking logs strangely extinguished within it. The door they had just walked through was the only way in or out. The explosions had knocked books and small objects off shelves, tossed and broken furniture, shattered most of the tiny panes of glass out of the two windows and started lots of small fires. The room was filled with the acrid smell of burning, but the smoke and dust was slowly clearing from the air through the broken windows.

  Will spotted Arran, collapsed, unconscious or dead, against the wall at the right side of the door; Freddie was crouched at his side. Just inside the door to the left was a crumpled, unmoving figure. Several large pieces of splintered wood impaled his chest, and dark red splattered across the soft grey material of a Lord’s robe. Yet the doors seemed to be intact. Confused, Will studied the body closer. He was killed by the wooden bar they used to bolt the door! There could be no mistake that he was dead; if the dull, sightless brown eyes, already losing their lustre and slack empty features, had not been proof, the large pool of blood that encircled him was more than conclusive.

  Pulling his eyes away from the horror his weapon had inflicted, Will turned his attention to the enemy stood before them. Lord Daratus, a slightly smug look on his cold, superior face, despite the dust, dirt and scorch marks on his robe, stared at Conlan. Next to him stood Lord Hernas, who held Eleanor pinned to his broad chest with one arm, her back to the thick armour he wore. Armour? In the middle of the night? They definitely knew we were coming! With his other hand, Hernas had pushed Eleanor’s jacket aside; he had a small blade partially jammed into her ribs.

  Head lolling to one side, eyes closed and blood dripping from her split, swollen lip, Eleanor hung limp, her consciousness gone. Will could see the blood spreading out over her white shirt where the tip of the blade had pierced her skin and felt a powerful surge of rage. So much adrenaline shot into his bloodstream that it woke his energy, which automatically sent out weak, trembling, questing strings, looking for water with which to replenish itself. Fighting the feeling, Will struggled to pull them back; an out-of-control Avatar was not going to help the situation.

  On the other side of Daratus stood another Lord in dark green robes. He looked dazed and confused, blood running down his face from a head wound he did not seem to know was there. Between the Lords was an old man, slumped on the floor in a lifeless heap, his arms tied behind his back, his once fine clothes now rags and his body battered. That has to be Gregor. And finally, in front of the Lords stood two Protectors, their weapons drawn. Teris was one of them, his expression oscillating between fear and guilt; as he and Conlan stared at each other, the guilt turned slowly to distress. The other Protector looked vaguely familiar.

  “Hello, Teris.” Conlan’s quiet greeting was filled with chilling menace. Teris gulped and took a step back.

  Arran’s energy has been drained, Freddie announced through their connection. One or more of them has magic. Will, if I give Arran some of my energy, will it help?

  Quite possibly, but small amounts until he’s conscious, okay? Will said as he crouched at Arran’s side, his attention still mostly on the enemy as he checked over the young man. He found a lump in the back of Arran’s head where it must have struck the wall, but there were no other obvious injuries.

  “The Lords are stronger,” Teris said, stuttering his explanation to Conlan. “I do not wish to die.”

  “No, Teris,” Conlan said. “Hope is stronger, as you are about to find out. You broke your Pledge of Service to me, Teris. Your honour is gone, destroyed by your fear. You will be marked an oath-breaker before we leave this place, so that all will know you cannot be trusted. ”

  Teris stared at Conlan. “To do that you will need to survive the day,” he snapped, the anger not quite camouflaging his fear.

  “Elspeth would be ashamed of you,” Elroy snarled, coming to stand next to Conlan.

  “Keep my sister out of this!” Teris bit back, a blush spreading up his cheeks.

  “Shut up!” Daratus ordered, his voice as cold and emotionless as Will remembered. Teris subsided into sulky silence. “Cai.” Daratus nodded, acknowledging the man, who stared at him with proud defiance. “Following in your father’s footsteps, are you?” Cai did not bother responding and Daratus turned his attention back to Conlan. “Surrender, or the Avatar and your grandfather will die.”

  Conlan stood up as straight as his injured leg would allow. When he spoke, his voice was strong and firm.

  “Stop hiding like cowards behind an old man and a small girl. Let us settle this like men.”

  “That assumes an awful lot on your part, boy,” Daratus replied, his eyes narrowing, and suddenly the air in front of Conlan filled with small bursts of what looked like liquid mercury, the result, Will deduced, of Air’s energy hitting Air’s shield. But was it Amelia’s or Conlan’s shield that was being struck? And who was releasing their energy?

  I thought I recognised him from Katadep. This is an Enforcer stood next to Teris, Conlan murmured through their heads. Arran groaned and twitched, and Will’s attention moved to the injured man, whose eyes opened slowly. Not a man, barely more than a child. Rubbing the back of his head gingerly, pain twisted Arran’s face.

  “Ow…” he hissed.

  “Hiding behind yet another child whom you tortured into being a weapon,” Conlan said as Daratus sneered. “As we both have magic users, this is an impasse,” he continued. “Let us settle this in armed combat instead. Just you and me.”

  “That is Bram,” Arran said, still blinking. “He is one of Daratus’s attempts to make an Enforcer with abilities in more than one element. He has an affinity for Water and Air, but very little skill with either.”

  “Yes, so we are finding out. Do you
have any other injuries?” Will asked him.

  Arran shook his head; the pain it caused him made him gasp, and his face paled further. Moving slowly, using the wall as support, Arran attempted to stand but failed, sliding back to the floor.

  Like watching a train wreck, Will’s attention was pulled back to their enemy. Daratus stared at Conlan, then tuned his gaze to where Eleanor was being held, her blood slowly dripping to the carpet. Hernas shrugged at Conlan’s request for single combat.

  “Do you want the chance to raise your sword against me or not?” Conlan asked. He sounded bored. Daratus licked his thin lips, his gaze bright with anticipation. Clearly the suggestion was an appealing one.

  “No, Arran, stay where you are,” Will said, concerned, laying a hand on the man’s shoulder as he tried to stand once more.

  Arran gave him a look that Will recognised as ‘stubborn Conlan’. “Get me on my feet,” he ordered.

  Will realised that arguing would be pointless, and with Freddie’s help they got Arran standing. He swayed slightly before getting hold of himself and striding forward to stand on the other side of Conlan.

  “Is it true?” Arran demanded of Daratus, the anger in his voice under tight control. “Am I Conlan’s brother?”

  Surprise flickered in the depths of Daratus’s pale blue eyes. He looked from Conlan to Arran, assessing, working out how this information could be used to his advantage.

  “You did not know,” Conlan stated with shrewd intuition.

  “No,” Daratus admitted. “Arran was given to me as a baby. I did not know his origin.”

  “Given to you by whom?” Arran asked.

  Daratus looked at him, his flat gaze boring though the boy before he decided to reply.

  “I will answer your question if you answer mine.”

  “What question?” Arran asked.

  “You should be dead of the Shaking Death. Who is supplying you with the tonic?”

  Arran’s eyes grew a little wider, and he exchanged looks with Conlan. Does Daratus not know the truth? Who does know? Conlan had always insisted that the Lords were not a coherent group and that there were levels within levels. Will had never believed it went to such an extent. Does this mean that some of the Lords are also unwitting victims of the lies and manipulation? It left him with an uncomfortable feeling. He took another look at the Lord in the green robes bleeding heavily from a head wound that nobody seemed to care about.

  “I stopped taking the tonic,” Arran said, falling back into the same emotionless speech pattern he had used when they had first met him, the one that Eleanor had blamed on being around Daratus too long. “Imagine my surprise when I did not die.”

  Arran turned to address Bram. “I am now free of the addiction and suffer no further ill effects. A fact I shall be sharing with Daratus’s other two Enforcers when they have recovered from the sedative we gave them.”

  Daratus stared at Arran, the surprise in his eyes showing briefly on his face. But he did not deny Arran’s words. Either he had suspected the truth—that other Lords had lied to him—or he could see no reason why Arran would fabricate such a story.

  “A rider brought you here from the Central Tower,” Daratus said. “I do not know the rider’s name and I have never seen him since. I investigated, of course, but was never able to discover who sent him. He brought you and a letter signed ‘A friend’ that explained you had been tested and found to have prodigious magical talent. I would do well, the letter said, to instigate the training program I had recently outlined, to create Enforcers who would be strong in all four elements.”

  “You told me my parents were dead,” Arran said.

  “Well, I was right about your mother,” Daratus said with cold cruelty.

  “I have another grandson?”

  His voice was weak and rough, but Gregor had pulled himself up, studying Arran with bloodshot eyes. Wanting to be near in case his help was needed, Will moved closer.

  Arran looked down at the old man. His expression softening, he offered an uncertain smile.

  Gregor returned the gesture. “I see Helena in you, Arran. I am glad I got to meet you before I died.”

  Gregor then turned his attention to Conlan. Will could see the look of unspoken love that he sent his grandson, tinged with the sadness of knowing the situation would most likely not end well. Daratus gave the old man a sharp kick in the side and Gregor dropped back down onto the carpet, his whimper fading into silence as his consciousness left him.

  “Surrender, Conlan, and you can continue this family reunion,” Daratus said.

  “From where?” Arran snapped at him, rage evident in every stiff muscle in his body. “The cell you will put us in for months as you slowly torture us to death?”

  Daratus’s expression filled with hatred as he stared at Arran, who straightened his shoulders and glared back.

  “Lord Hernas, please remind Conlan of what is at stake here,” Daratus snarled, watching Conlan’s face with anticipation.

  A cunning, malicious grin raising the corners of his lips, Hernas smoothly slipped another few millimetres of his blade between Eleanor’s ribs. She gave a weak, gasping cry, her head lifting, eyes rolling, before she slumped back, losing her brief battle for awareness. The blood began to run more steadily; what had been a drip to the puddle on the carpet below now became a trickle. Conlan’s body stiffened, his hand moving briefly to his own ribs.

  “Surrender,” Daratus demanded again. “Or I will deprive you of your love, as you deprived me of mine.”

  “I was not responsible for my mother’s death,” Conlan said. “They knew about her magic before they arrived. They threatened me in order to get her to confess.”

  Daratus stared, his eyes narrowing. “You lie.”

  Conlan shrugged. “To what purpose?”

  “So I will think more favourably of you—”

  “We both know that is not going to happen,” Conlan interrupted. “I am telling you the truth.”

  “Then why did you not mention it before?” Daratus asked.

  “It is newly acquired information, and I tell it to you now so that you will question what you were told and by whom you were told it. You have always claimed you loved my mother; do you not want revenge on those who deceived you and murdered her?”

  Daratus was still, looking into Conlan’s face with an intensity that unnerved Will. When he spoke, his voice had a strange, disjointed quality, as if he were speaking from the past.

  “Did you know, Conlan, that a gift for magic must come from both parents? The mother must be active in the power, the father’s talent dormant. Helena figured it out… studied family trees and bloodlines. She was smart as well as beautiful. We had a plan to create magically gifted children who were strong enough to control the elements.”

  Amelia, the Enforcer’s shield: can you get through it? Conlan asked. Amelia moved gracefully between Conlan and Arran so her hand, and Will assumed her energy, could brush across the shield’s surface.

  The shield is weak, Amelia answered, coming to stand on the other side of Arran. But I don’t have enough energy left. It’s going to take you, me, Freddie and Arran, if he can, working together to get through it. And I don’t think we will before that brute can force his blade into Eleanor.

  Unaware of Amelia’s assessment, Daratus kept talking. “Think of the power that having control of the elements would have given us! Imagine our disappointment when you were born with only minimal magical talent…”

  Will, if they stab Eleanor, can you save her? Conlan’s question was accompanied by a wave of black fear as his eyes moved to Eleanor’s lifeless face. Every muscle in Will’s body clenched in horror, but he forced himself to consider the question. He took several moments to study how Eleanor was being held and the angle of the blade, checking this against the knowledge he had of such injuries. The thought was appalling, and he wanted to beg Conlan to not even consider it, but given the circumstances, desperate hysteria was not what Conlan needed. He
needed options. Taking a breath, Will gave as calm a reply as he could manage.

  There’s no way of being sure. It would be a very serious injury, but she’s an Avatar and a fighter. I would put her chances of survival at about thirty percent.

  “The way she ran…” Daratus droned on. “Hid Jarrick from me when he was born… I assumed she had found success. Perhaps others who knew of our plans feared the same thing…”

  Don’t you dare! Freddie hissed. Don’t you dare let them stab her! Will, are you insane? You just gave Eleanor a seventy percent chance of dying!

  What are my alternatives? Conlan asked. He sounded exhausted, although Will knew nobody would have guessed it from looking at way he was stood, angry and strong.

  Daratus finally noticed that Conlan’s attention was no longer on him, but appeared to be fixed on Eleanor instead, and a bitter anger entered his tone. “Regardless of why Helena died, you have no choice but to surrender. You cannot get to us before Hernas stabs your abomination.”

  “You know I will not hesitate, Conlan,” Hernas said, the older man’s voice a deep rumble of contempt. “I can guarantee a slow, painful death for you to watch.”

  You have no choice! Surrender! Freddie snapped eerily, echoing Daratus. Put Eleanor’s life before your pride!

  I wish it were that easy, Conlan said in a soft, pained voice. Eleanor and I have discussed this; I know what she would want me to do. And I will not risk all our lives to save hers.

  Surprised by the maturity of Conlan’s decision, Will caught Amelia’s eyes when she glanced back at him. This is a conversation we should have too, he thought. As if she could read his mind, worry and distress filled Amelia’s expression, and she turned back to face the enemy before them.

  I hate that we live in a world where that sort of talk is necessary, Freddie muttered. If she dies, Conlan, I’ll never forgive you.