The door opened at her touch and she stopped in the hallway outside. There were what she recognized as Paul's "special" guards on either side of the door. They were in plate armor with full helmets so she had no idea what they looked like. She also didn't care.
"Your loyalty has transferred to me," Megan said.
"Yes, mistress," the guards answered.
"We're going to get the other girls," she continued. "You two lead. Can you summon the other guards?"
"Yes, mistress," the guard on the left answered.
"Do so," she replied, pointing up the corridor. "Let's move out."
The two guards strode down the hallway, banging on their shields as they walked.
"Provide protection for us," Megan said after a moment. "Mother, how much power to put blocks on all the cross-corridors?"
"Depends upon if they are challenged," Mother replied.
"Block the biggest groups of Changed," Megan said as a Changed warrior skidded into the hallway. When it saw the escaped girls it let out a howl and charged at them. She wasn't sure if the orc was intent on recapturing them or raping them, but it didn't really matter. The two guards engaged it immediately and the girls slid by to the side of the conflict. As they did three more of the specials came charging down the hall.
"Leave them," Megan snapped as they reached the entrance to the confinement quarters. "Guard the corridor. We're going to get the girls in here and then go back to the harem. As more guards come up, gather them to screen us back."
"Yes, mistress," one of the guards replied.
She touched open the door and entered a long corridor. At the end was a broad room where two women, both very pregnant, were sewing. In the distance was the sound of a baby crying.
"Megan?" Velva said, looking up. "Is it your turn to be stuck in this dump?" Then she seemed to notice the other two women and frowned.
"No, Velva," Megan said, gulping as the sound of clashing steel came from the corridor. "Paul's dead. We need to leave."
"What?" Velva replied, gulping air. "WHAT?"
"We need to leave, Velva. All of us. Get the girls. And the children. Now!"
She glanced at her power levels and blanched.
"Mother, what's draining power?"
"Changed are attempting to pass my blocks," Mother noted. "I've rearranged them to simply block the main corridors, but they are throwing themselves at the block points."
"Shanea! Amber!" Megan yelled. "Hurry!"
Women, some of them carrying infants, were streaming out of the side rooms. Most of them were more heavily dressed than the girls in the harem but a few, those who had already delivered, were clearly trying to fit back into their costumes. There were definite signs of conflict.
"Okay, this is the deal," Megan said. "I'm not going to repeat it and I'm not going to answer questions. Paul is dead. I have his Key. I'm going to transport us out to safety. Anyone who wants to come, fine. Those who stay behind, though, are going to be at the mercy of the Changed."
With that she turned and headed for the battle at the entrance.
The corridor was a madhouse but the geased guards were holding off the Changed and there was a clear run, or in many cases waddle, to the harem. Megan briefly wondered if it would have made more sense to bring the harem girls to the pregnant ones instead of the other way around but it was too late for second thoughts.
There was another group of guards battling by the entrance to the harem but they were blocking the door, being forced back by the Changed. Megan looked at the gaggle of women behind her, then at the door, then at the battles at both ends of the corridor. The floor around the door was slick with the blood of guards that had already fallen and the continuous clatter of sword on shield and armor was shattering her concentration. After a moment she waved at the women.
"Up against the wall!" she shouted. "Shanea, Amber, get them up against the wall!" She looked at the backs of the guards in the further battle and picked six that weren't in the front line. She sent a thought winging to them and they turned and charged back down the corridor, smashing into the fight around the doorway and briefly clearing it.
"Move!" she shouted, running to the door and standing in the way of the battle as the pregnant women scrambled to the doorway. "Mother, release the blocks for these girls!" she suddenly shouted. This was not going according to plan.
"Already done," Mother assured her. "In little things like that I'm permitted to anticipate."
"Thank you," Megan breathed as a Changed hit her protection field and rebounded.
"They're all through," Amber said, tapping her on the arm.
"Great," Megan replied, sliding through the door to the harem and shutting it. "Mother, release all blocks not directly sealing the harem. Seal the harem entrances; nobody in, nobody out. Release the loyalty geas on all the special guards, everywhere. Open a portal to Sheida Ghorbani's house."
"All done except the last," Mother said. "There's a teleport block over all of Norau. Given the way that those can be bypassed, it's quite definite. Nothing in, nothing out. Definitely no teleports from Ropasa to anywhere in Norau."
"Damnit!" Megan snapped. "I need someplace to teleport that's safe."
"Safe is a relative term," Mother replied. "You need somewhere that doesn't have a teleport block on it and that is not held by New Destiny forces. The Finn has voted with New Destiny on some minor matters in exchange for binding prohibitions against power use against forces that are not directly tied to the Freedom Coalition. However, the McClure clan in Gael is in contact with the Coalition and would probably provide you safe-haven."
"Is that what you're suggesting?" Megan asked.
"Yes."
"Open a portal to their house, then," Megan said.
"Castle, actually," Mother replied as a rippling silver mirror appeared in the doorway to Christel's office.
"Okay, here's the deal," Megan said, looking around at the girls. "Paul is dead. Nobody is going to care for you after this. If you're lucky, you'll only be Changed. If you're unlucky you'll be turned over to Reyes. Either way there are going to be some pointed questions about this event."
"I can't believe you killed him," Christel shouted. "Why?"
"Because I don't like being a slave," Megan replied. "I'm not going to debate about it. It's done. And we're leaving. Anyone who wants out, there's the door," she added, pointing at the portal. "Anyone who wants to wait for what Chansa and Celine will call 'mercy' can stay." She looked around at the girls as none of them moved. One of the babies started crying.
"Oh, for Pete's sake," she snarled. "I need to be last. Who's going?"
"Me," Amber said. "Better anything than this life." She walked to the doorway of silver and strode through.
That started a rush as almost all the women crowded the doorway. Christel, however, stayed where she was.
"Christel," Megan said, looking at her power gauge. It was down in the yellow and dropping as thumps indicated that the Changed were trying to break the blocks on the door. "When they come through they're not going to be asking a lot of questions."
"I'm staying," Christel said, shaking her head. Her whole body was shaking for that matter.
Megan looked at her coldly then nodded her head.
"Okay," she replied, striding to the portal. "Good luck."
* * *
Jock McClure shook his head as Steffan, who was a nephew of some sort, threw a beef bone at young Jock. Young Jock responded by climbing onto the heavy oak table and hurling himself onto Steffan, the two of them rolling around in the rushes on the floor as dogs gathered around barking.
"I hate winter," he muttered, pulling his fur cloak around himself and picking up a mug of warmed mead. The long great hall of the castle was impossible to heat, and close as he was to the fireplace it still was bloody cold.
"The young bucks are getting restless," Armand Byrne said, nodding toward the brawlers. Armand had been a friend, and quite serious reenactor, before the Fall. When Jock had
succeeded to the position of Laird McClure he had moved in to play "seneschal." After the Fall the two had made the roles real, managing to hammer together an alliance among others in the area that had been holding off New Destiny, with damned little help, for over two years. And winter was no respite; supplied from their bases in Ropasa the forces of New Destiny attacked year round. "Been a long one. Everyone's getting restless for that matter."
"And old bones don't care for it much either," McClure replied. He was a big man slightly shrunk by age, with long white hair that was pulled back by a gold cord. But his blue eyes were still bright as he watched the two youngsters rolling among the dogs and bones on the floor. "NO KNIVES!" he bellowed as young Jock fumbled at his belt. "Godfrey, break them up before that idiot son of mine makes more of a fool of himself."
Godfrey, who was easily the largest man in the room, plucked the knife from the boy's belt, then picked them both up and banged them together until they stopped struggling.
"No knives," McClure said. It was the reason that the swords were stacked against the wall; once two fighters got to battling they'd use anything to hand. He'd rather that the swords were in the armory but even in Dun McClure there was the chance of a sneak attack.
Such as if New Destiny formed a portal like the one that was opening up over the kitchen entrance.
"ATTACK!" Byrne bellowed, standing up so fast his heavy chair tumbled backwards. In no more than two seconds he had a longsword in his hand. But he was slow compared to Old Jock, who was halfway down the table with a massive battle-axe cocked at high port.
For a long moment nothing happened as fighter after fighter armed themselves and arrayed before the rippling silver mirror. Then there was a distortion and.
A very tall, and very beautiful, brunette female wearing a full body suit made of almost entirely transparent silk stepped into the room and immediately threw her arms around herself.
"It's freezing in here!" she snapped, looking around at the swords. "I really don't think you're going to need those," she added as she stepped to the side for another woman.
And another. And another. And another. All of them wearing halfway to nothing.
"Hullo there," Young Jock said to the brunette, lowering his sword so the point touched the ground. "I think we could be friends."
"Not unless you learn what the meaning of bath is," the brunette snapped.
"What the bloody hell is this?" Laird McClure asked in utter confusion as another woman stepped through, this one carrying an infant.
There was a gasp and a slap followed by a scream and a small woman launched herself across the gap to impact on Hugh Telford, who had wrapped his arms around a petite blonde. In a second, no more, Telford was on the ground, choking, from a blow that had appeared out of nowhere.
"You really don't want to do this," the brunette said as two of the men closed in on the smaller woman. She snap-kicked one in the knee and he tumbled over groaning, but Godfrey picked her up from behind and blocked her attempt to turn him into a soprano. "You really don't want to do this!"
"I want to know what the hell is happening!" Jock bellowed as the silver mirror rippled one more time and then collapsed leaving a good-looking, medium-height brunette, wearing nothing but a bikini, standing arms akimbo in the doorway to the kitchen.
"I'm what's happening," the girl said, pointing her hand and sending a lance of power that drove Godfrey into the wall. "My name is Megan Travante. I am a Key-holder. I just killed Paul Bowman to get his Key. And the next man who puts his hand on a woman in my presence will be sent to a very special and private version of Hell."
* * *
The women of the castle had been summoned and the girls and their children had been bundled off to warmer quarters. After that Megan and Jock McClure had retreated to his office, a much smaller room in the upper floors of the keep. He built up the fire as she wrapped a fur around herself.
"Mother told me you were in contact with the Freedom Coalition," Megan said.
"Aye," Jock replied, poking the fire to life and throwing on another billet of wood.
"I need to contact them and get us extracted," Megan said.
"Aye," Jock said, again.
"Is that all you're going to say?" Megan asked.
"It's a bit of a shock, lassie," McClure admitted. "We were expecting some of their Changed monsters to come through the portal, not a cluster of odalisques."
"Oda-whats?" Megan chuckled.
"Odalisques," McClure repeated. "Harem girls. So Paul had a harem?"
"He considered it a breeding group," Megan replied, sharply.
"And of course it had to be live cover," McClure said, taking a seat across from her. "I'll heat some mead if you'd like."
"I'd prefer tea," Megan said.
"Well, that we don't be havin'," McClure sighed. "Or clothes fer yuh for that matter. We might be able to scare up some blankets, but we don't be havin' the power looms that the UFS does; we've been fightin' too hard to make any. Can't you ken it, then?"
"I don't want to use the power," Megan admitted. "Laird McClure."
"Call me Jock," McClure interjected. "People only call me 'Laird' when they're about to go to war with me."
"Jock, then," Megan said with a grin. "We won't tax you any longer than necessary. I'll contact Sheida and try to get her to let me teleport us out. We won't be here long."
"Might be longer than you think," Jock said. "The block they have is tight; it has to be. I'm not sure Sheida will drop it even for you."
"We. I can't stay here long. The rest of the Destiny councilors will be hunting me. If they throw their full weight against you."
"Ack, they've been tryin' hard enough as it is," Jock said with a shrug. "They send their forces up into the highlands and we kill them. Or they land on the coast and we kill them. Or they sneak into a glen and set up a portal. And we kill them."
"You're not going to just be killing them," Megan replied.
"No," Jock said with a nod. "I had three sons. I've one now, lassie. I didn't say it was easy. I said we did it."
"If Chansa had the full backing of the Council he could have taken you at any time," Megan replied with a shrug. "If they know I'm here, they'll come for you. In force."
"Be a bit hard with most of their troops at sea," Jock noted. "Of course, we're by the sea, here. But I don't see them turning around their fleet just when it's on its way to Norau. And doing well, from what I hear."
"You hear a lot," Megan said with a frown.
"I've got big ears," McClure chuckled. "But I'll admit I hadn't heard of this harem. There's another girl here waiting for transport; your friends will be meeting her. She was in a brothel. Carried some important message apparently. Selkies picked it up then told her to come here. I'm liable to cause the Finn to rethink his bargain if this keeps up."
"What do you think I should do?" Megan asked.
"Ah, now it's questions is it?" McClure answered, nodding his head. "Not so much 'we must do this, we must do that.' I think you should be having a quiet chat with Sheida, lassie. And then getting your pretty little butt to someplace safer than Dun McClure. But until then, we'll fight for ye. They'll nigh pass us until the last McClure is dead and gone. Hang on a bit."
He stood up and went to the door, leaning out into the corridor.
"Get that heathen Baradur up here!" he bellowed into the hall.
"Baradur's one of the wee folk," he explained, walking back over to the fire and warming his hands. "I captured him in a battle with one of their clans. He's just been hanging around and eating my food ever since. I think I'll foist him on you."
The door opened shortly after and a small, heavily muscled young man entered the room. He was dressed in skins and furs and had a sallow, yellowish complexion, a bullet head with a topknot of black, lanky hair dangling from one side and a flat face with bright eyes half-hidden by epicanthic folds. Instead of the straight swords of the Gael he was armed with a long, back-curved sword on his left hip a
nd a similar knife nearly the size of a sword on his right. He bowed to the laird and Megan, standing silently.
"Baradur, you've been eating my bread and salt for the last year," McClure growled. "And I'll have no more of it. I'm giving you over to the Key-holder for a servant. Serve her well or you'll have me to face!"
"Yes, Laird McClure," was all the man said. He had a strange accent, light on the ears.
"The wee folk are strange in their ways," McClure said, turning to Megan. "But they're bloody loyal. If he takes your bread and salt he'll die rather than let harm come to you."
John Ringo - Council Wars 03 - Against the Tide Page 27