“I don’t think she’ll be conscious for a while,” Will said. “Amelia and Freddie will let us know when she wakes, if she doesn’t let you know herself. In the meantime, tell me what’s going on here.”
Will watched the hard, flat mask fall back into place, and Conlan nodded.
“I was telling Erit and Daman that I intend to level the North Tower when we leave tomorrow,” Conlan said, switching back to Dwarfish. “They object.”
Working hard to keep his expression neutral, Will looked at Erit and Daman for their explanation. Conlan had mentioned many times in the last few months that he intended to grind the North Tower into dust. Will had never considered that he had meant it literally, although he actually did not care either way.
“The North Tower has stood for hundreds of years, and it took Avatars to breach it. It would make a perfect seat from which to take on the Lords,” Erit said with dogged insistence. “You are a fool to destroy it,” he added, glaring at Conlan.
“You will have a care how you address me, Erit,” Conlan said with a soft menace that battered against Will’s ears far more than Erit’s shouting had done.
Erit continued to glare. “You are not yet king, and I have not joined your cause. Currently I am the captive of a traitor, and for once in my life I am free to say what I wish. Reducing the North Tower to rubble is the action of a damaged, irrational child taking petty revenge.”
Conlan turned to look at Will, anger simmering in his eyes, a harsh growl of disgust under the English when he spoke. “Do you have anything to add, Will?”
“Do I care if the North Tower stands or falls?” Will asked, once again speaking English. “No, I don’t. Do I care that you’re not seen as a ‘damaged, irrational child’ by those we would do well to bring to our cause? Yes, I care about that.”
“You’re worried about what they think of me?” Conlan asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Conlan, there are over three hundred Protectors in this tower; they will join us or not based on what men like Erit tell them about you,” Will said. “You’re not a damaged, irrational child—mostly. You have a logical reason for wanting the tower gone. Have you shared this with them yet?”
Conlan sighed and shook his head. “I’ve not had the chance.” He looked at Erit and Daman and switched back to Dwarfish. “Will has advised me that I should explain why I want to destroy the North Tower. Would you take a seat?” The two men sat across the table and looked at Conlan with hard eyes. Conlan watched them for a moment before he spoke, his voice calm.
“You are correct: I do have a few ‘personal’ reasons for wanting the North Tower gone, but I assure you that my decision has nevertheless been a strategic one.” Conlan paused, but neither man spoke, and Will wondered if they were ready for the intensity of Conlan’s vision. “I want to strike fear into the hearts of the Lords,” he continued. “The best way to do this is to remove their control, their power. The North Tower is a symbol of their power in the north, and I will break that. If I merely took the tower, there is nothing to stop them from taking it back, or laying siege with vast numbers, holding us in one place, rendering us impotent. ‘If your enemy knows where you are, do not be there.’” Erit and Daman nodded in understanding. Will smiled, recognising the title of chapter four in the book Conlan had given Eleanor on strategy.
“Make no mistake,” Conlan went on, “I do not want one tower: I want Mydren’s heart, the hearts of its people. When we leave here, we will disappear, to train up what troops decide to join us. And when we are ready, we will march on Lord Killip and the East Tower. Once that tower falls, we will move on to the South Tower, and then the West, until all that stands as the dwindling power of the Lords will be the Central Tower. And then the final battle will begin.” Conlan pulled himself to his feet and slammed his hand down hard on the wooden table. “I do not want to establish myself as a ‘Lord’ of Mydren,” he growled, staring down at the men before him. “I am here to eradicate their power-hungry greed, to bring peace, prosperity and the five noble virtues back to the world. So I will leave nothing of the old way standing.”
Will felt goose bumps erupt across his body as he witnessed the full force of Conlan’s regal nature. There was silence. Erit and Daman looked at each other, then back at Conlan. Slowly Erit stood. Moving round the table, he stopped and held Conlan’s gaze. Will could see Conlan’s injured leg trembling as he stood and waited. The rag Will had used as a bandage earlier was soaked through, and Conlan’s dirty grey trousers were stained red the length of his leg.
Finally Erit dropped painfully to his knees and bowed his head. “Very well, Conlan Baydon. I would humbly ask that you would let me join you.”
“Yes, Erit,” Conlan said. “I would be delighted to have you join me; but call me a fool again in my hearing and you will regret it. Am I clear?”
“My apologies for my words,” Erit replied. “That will be the last time you will have cause to reprimand me for them.” Will was not at all sure he believed him.
Conlan smiled before turning to the other man. “And you, Daman? Are you going to join us?”
“Where Erit goes, I go. Yes, Conlan Baydon, I pledge my loyalty to you.”
“Good, then let us get to the task I got you out of your prison cells for in the first place,” Conlan said, smiling grimly at their questioning looks. “I want you to explain, slowly and carefully to each cell full of Protectors, what is happening and why. Impress on them that this is the end of their life here and that fighting back would be suicide. Tell them that tomorrow afternoon they will be released and that they will then be free to take what they wish from the North Tower—anything they can carry. But tell them that anyone still inside the walls will be crushed when I bring the tower down at sunset. Any Protector, regardless of rank, is free to join us, or leave to do as they wish. Those who wish to join us should head north into the forest; those who wish to leave should head south to the road. All are free to make their own decisions. We shall be watching and will deal harshly with anyone who tries to force a choice on another. Do you understand my orders?”
Erit and Daman nodded. Conlan limped towards the door, shadowed by Arran. Will moved to follow them.
“Avatar of… Will?” Erit said softly. “I would speak with you.”
“Yes, Erit?”
“There are others in the lower dungeons,” Erit said, his eyes full of concern. “Other prisoners. Some are ‘unfortunate’ as we were, but many of them are the killers, rapists and thieves we have apprehend as part of our duties as Protectors. They are awaiting judgement. I am unsure if Conlan is aware how many dangerous men there are down there. I would suggest that they are left down there and crushed with the tower, but Cai tells me Conlan thinks differently from us on these matters, so perhaps you can discuss it with him?” Recognising a nasty ethical dilemma when he saw one, Will nodded with tired resignation. I get all the fun jobs!
“I will talk to Conlan about it,” he agreed, then turned and headed for the door, intent upon checking Conlan’s leg.
In pain, exhausted and limping heavily, Conlan had not got far. With Arran’s help he had made it up the stairs into the great entrance hall, where he now sat on the stone floor, back to the wall, panting, apparently unaffected by the icy blast that howled through the huge hole that used to house the doors.
“Arran, I need light,” Will said, crouching stiffly at Conlan’s side. Arran disappeared into the darkness, looking for a lantern.
“You could have chosen somewhere warmer to collapse,” Will muttered in English.
“My apologies if my pain has inconvenienced you,” Conlan retorted, but Will could hear the tired humour in the comment. “What did Erit want to talk to you about?”
“He wanted to tell me about all the rapists, murderers and thieves that are housed in the lower dungeons of this place. He wanted to know what you intended to do with them.”
Conlan signed. “If I leave them there I murder those who have done nothing but cross a Lo
rd of Mydren. If I let them go free, I release a horde of potentially lethal men onto an unsuspecting population—and we can’t take them with us. What would you do about it?”
Will gave a snort. “I’d leave it to someone else to decide.”
Before Conlan could say more, Arran returned with a covered lantern. By its light Will cleaned and stitched Conlan’s leg, using the last dregs of his concentration and control to keep his hands from shaking. The first shafts of the rising sun were just beginning to reach long fingers through the broken tower door into the entrance hall when Arran and Will helped Conlan to his feet and together they headed back to the others.
They were barely halfway there before the headache that thrashed mercilessly around in his skull made Will’s vision blur and then darken, and pain and exhaustion dropped him into an ocean of black nothing. He faintly heard Conlan’s desperate voice calling his name as he fell.
Need
“Will didn’t want her moved,” Freddie said with angry insistence.
“Did he say why?” Conlan asked, his tone just as angry.
Fighting his body’s stiff, heavy lethargy, Will forced his eyes open and pushed himself to sit. The sharp shards of early morning sunshine that poured through the shattered windows of the Lords’ day room tore through his eyes and into his throbbing brain.
“That thing he glued to Eleanor’s side is keeping her alive—and no, I don’t know how. It was complicated,” Freddie said, sounding defensive. “Maybe Will’s worried it will fall off if you move her.”
“He glued it on with hoof glue. Trust me, it’s not coming off!” Conlan snapped.
Looking around, rubbing bleary eyes, Will found himself on the floor not far from where Eleanor lay. Someone had given him a pillow and a soft blanket, which was sliding down his body now he had sat up. Slowly the realisation penetrated his muddled brain that if Conlan was worried about Eleanor, she must still be alive—and with an unexpected burst of hope, Will hauled himself to his feet.
Against the far wall, bound tightly, Teris and the Enforcer sat on either side of Daratus, both men looking miserably defeated. But Teris’s face was also awash with blood from deep lacerations to his cheek that Will did not remember him having earlier. The captured Lord watched him with such a cold hatred that Will shivered. And while his expression did not speak of further fight, the Enforcer, Bram, was still a danger, as unlike Arran or Conlan, his energy’s internal protection was still intact. I really hope Amelia has a shield around you, Will thought. The Lord in the green robe lay right where Amelia and Conlan’s earlier attack had left him—dead, Will presumed. Conlan knelt next to Eleanor, a hand clutching hers, and Freddie knelt on the other side, Amelia at his shoulder for moral support. Disturbingly, there was no sign of Lord Hernas.
“Conlan, seriously, you need to wait for Will to wake up,” Freddie said, his voice dropping, his tone desperate. “What he did for Eleanor last night was beyond amazing. She’s alive right now because of him, no other reason, and you can see how much better she is already. If the man who achieved this says, ‘Don’t move her,’ you should listen.”
“Will is—” Conlan started.
“Right here,” Will interrupted, saving himself from having to listen to whatever Conlan had been about to say, because judging from the frown on his face, it would not have been good. Freddie and Amelia smiled at him, relief in their eyes. Conlan’s gaze moved to look him up and down, checking, scrutinising, analysing.
“We have to leave, Will; Eleanor can’t stay here. Tell me how I can move her safely,” Conlan demanded, making no comment about what he saw in the man stood before him.
“Good morning to you too,” Will said with mild irritation. “Before she goes anywhere I would appreciate a moment to examine my patient.” Freddie nodded and moved to sit on the other side of the room. Reluctantly, Conlan followed and sat against the wall with a brooding expression on his face. Amelia hovered, looking uncertain. Will smiled at her and motioned for her to join him.
“What’s eating him?” Will asked. A little taken aback by the are-you-really-that-stupid look Amelia shot him, he added, “Other than Eleanor nearly dying, obviously.”
“Daratus…” Amelia said, glancing back at where the captured Lord sat. “He claims to have information Conlan will want.”
“What information?” Will asked as he began checking Eleanor’s vital signs. Freddie was right: she was breathing a little easier, and her face was not quite as white as it had been. The wound, while open and seeping a little, was not bleeding as it had been. Amelia or Freddie must have been very conscientious about keeping her energy low, which meant his treatment was working as he had hoped. She still had a long way to go, but he had hope now that she would pull through.
Amelia shrugged. “Daratus won’t tell. He says he wants his life and freedom to leave before he says anything. He creeps me out so much that my shield has been around him, not just the Enforcer, ever since he woke up. Conlan just wants him dead, I can tell, but…”
“But the information could be very important to us,” Will concluded, and Amelia nodded. Sighing, Will looking into the pale, seething blue eyes of Conlan’s father, trying to understand how someone that malevolent, that cruel, could have produced such a noble son. “Nothing is straightforward anymore.”
“Anymore…?” came a weak, scratchy voice. “When were things ever straightforward?”
A bright, delighted joy lit Amelia’s face, her hands flying to her mouth to hide her gasp, tears of happiness rolling down her cheeks. Will smiled down at the little pixie.
“Welcome back, Eleanor. How are you feeling?”
Eleanor tentatively moved a little and flexed her body, pain dulling her eyes. “I feel… it hurts,” she whimpered breathlessly, and Will winced as Kip’s death flashed behind his eyes, stamping on the tail of the sleeping monster that was his grief. “Like someone… is sat on my… chest…” Eleanor continued between panting breaths.
Reaching across the collection of implements, salves and equipment Will had used the night before, Amelia took the lepdrac bottle and poured Eleanor a generous slug into a mug of water. She held it to Eleanor’s lips so she could drink.
Will found he was watching the bottle, not his patient. His headache roared with a renewed intensity—with need. Shame on you, his father’s voice hissed from deep inside. Addicted, like some teenage waster. The effort required to ignore both the condescending parent in his head and the lepdrac bottle left Will trembling slightly as he stood and walked over to where Conlan and Freddie sat.
“She’s awake, Conlan,” Will said, loving the stunned relief that spread across Conlan’s face. Leaping to his feet, his injured leg momentarily forgotten, Conlan ran across the room. Freddie went to follow, and Will put an arm out, holding him back. A wistful look filled Freddie’s face, but he nodded. Amelia put a hand on Conlan’s shoulder, giving him a smile, and then came to stand with Will and Freddie. Together they watched from a distance as Conlan tenderly stroked Eleanor’s face. Appearing almost frightened to touch her, he rested his cheek against hers, and whatever he was whispering in her ear had the power to briefly remove the pain from her eyes, love taking its place.
“So,” Freddie said, turning to look at Will. There was a confusing mixture of sorrow in his eyes and a contented smile on his face. “How can we get Eleanor out of here? We carried Davlin out in a bedsheet, like a hammock, and that worked really well. Can we do that with Eleanor?”
Will shook his head and smiled, diverted by the thought of how Davlin would have felt about being transported in a bedsheet.
“Will?” Freddie prompted, dragging his attention back to the conversation.
“Just thinking,” Will lied smoothly. It was an effort to move back to his train of thought. “We can’t risk Eleanor putting strain on her lungs or breaking the seal of the bandage I applied,” he said. “If you want to move her, it’s going to have to be on something rigid, something that will keep her flat.”
&
nbsp; “Got it. I’ll go find something,” Freddie said with a nod, walking with swift purpose out of the room. Amelia watched him go, then looked back at Conlan and Eleanor and sighed.
“Poor Freddie…” she murmured. Will wrapped his arms around her, placing soft kisses along her jaw until she sighed contentedly.
“What happened to Teris?” he asked, glancing at the bleeding Protector.
“Elroy carved a Dwarfish symbol into his face and then put a cross through it,” Amelia said with the tired resignation of someone who had attempted to stop something and failed. “With Conlan’s blessing, I might add. It’s to signify he’s an oath breaker to anyone he ever meets. It’s barbaric.”
“There’s no point having powerful oaths if there are no repercussions to breaking them,” Will said. “Teris brought it on himself.”
“He tried so hard not to cry out, and Conlan would not let me tend to him afterwards,” Amelia said with disgust.
“I’m sorry they upset you,” Will said, not really knowing what else he could say. While the violence was unpleasant, he actually thought that, considering the crime, it was restrained and measured punishment for Mydren.
Amelia looked up at him. “How are you feeling?” she asked. A concerned frown had materialised between her eyes, and Will shrugged.
“How did Conlan describe me? ‘Tired, irritable and slow.’ Yep, that’s pretty much how I feel.”
“He’s just worried about you…” Amelia trailed off, clearly wanting to say more. Will felt the urge to reassure her, to tell her it would be okay, but the desire not to lie to her was stronger. So he just held her tight, letting her presence calm his mind.
Will was still holding Amelia, enjoying the moment and blessedly thinking of nothing, trying to ignore the headache that was winding itself up behind his eyes, when Freddie returned with a flat wooden door he seemed to have recently pulled off its hinges. He was followed by Elroy, who carried a variety of blankets, bedsheets and pillows.
Will (Book 2) Page 46