Sands of the Solar Empire (The Belmont Saga)
Page 15
A group of armed men appeared from nowhere, Wafting in and covering the hedged exits. They pointed all manner of swords and pistols at the people seated at the table. The staff, that happened to be around, hit the deck and put their hands over their heads.
The band stopped playing. Someone screamed for help.
The sky grew odd, turned a frightening blackish-blue color, and soundless lightning flashed.
“Shhh, quiet,” came a commanding voice in a hard Dirge. “Don’t move… Don’t move.” The screams muffled and then stopped all together. The Dirge kept them quiet and still; all those seated at the table appearing as unwilling statuary.
With that, the leader of the villains Wafted in with aplomb. He was a broad, portly man wearing a red coat and a garish hat. His thick, black beard looked like it was composed of animal fur rather than mere facial hair. He looked about and smiled.
“Afternoon, darlings,” he said in a flamboyant accent. “I hate to be a bore, but we are to be robbing you of your valuables. I promised my mistress I would be paying the lot of you a visit—she was most keen on it in fact.”
“It’s Lord Sedgwick of Kold,” Lyra mouthed under her breath, unable to fully move or speak under the influence of the Dirge. “The Pirate of Remnath.”
Virginia was frozen opened-mouthed, with a forkful of saucy meat halted in mid-flight on its way to her mouth. “What’s he want with us?” she mumbled.
Somebody else arrived, a tall woman wearing gray ladies garments and slim, button-up boots. She walked in from far away, it seemed, across the dark sky, arriving like a goddess. Stenstrom didn’t understand what he was seeing. Things didn’t quite make sense—time and distance were distorted. The woman’s face was mostly obscured by her large, flat-brimmed hat. Stenstrom could see hints of a pointy chin, but that was about it.
He’d seen her before, in a dream, he thought.
She looked around and spoke in a ghostly voice. “He’s here, at this table. Fetch him for me. I want him alive!” Lord Sedgwick listened to her instructions intently.
She then walked away, again covering miles across the odd sky, and was gone. When she left, the sky cleared and things appeared to melt back into normalcy—except for Lord Sedgwick’s armed pirates roaming about.
Sedgwick pushed his hat away and wiped his beefy brow. “Well, there you have it. Therefore, we’re to be robbing the lot of you, and kidnapping someone in particular. We shan’t inconvenience you any longer than necessary, but make no mistake, ‘Puddings’; do not attempt any heroic use of weapon or Gifts, I warn you. I would hate to have to kill anyone here.”
Lord Sedgwick’s men fanned out and, holding open bags, began taking items of value, removing rings, necklaces, brooches, watches and anything else they could find that looked valuable. They also leaned over and inspected the faces of all the young men seated at the table.
“Who’re we a-lookin’ for, Sedge?” one of them called out.
“A boy, should be around ten or twelve, I think. Look for the Puffy ones.”
The men began searching anew, carefully inspecting all the young boys.
Lyra fumed.
The passing tide of ruffians approached, robbing some, pawing others. They were just a few place settings down.
“Check that kid there!” one of them said, pointing as he worked to get a large ring off one of his sister’s fingers.
The dirty brute turned to Stenstrom.
There was a blast from the near end of the labyrinth. A man appeared in a cloud of wind. He was wearing a blue and green coat, black pantaloons, black bucket boots with spurs, and a Vith-style triangle hat.
Lyra and Stenstrom, unable to move their heads, turned their eyes to him.
The man was wearing a jeweled mask over a well-trimmed mustache. “Dear Sedgwick,” he said in a proud voice. “This is a low, even for you, interrupting these good people’s dinner.”
It’s the Mad Lord of Walther, Stenstrom thought. He and Lyra had thrilled to his exploits in the vids and posts for years. He was a notable vigilant from the west, and here he was, in the flesh.
Sedgwick grimaced. “Everywhere I go, I find you close behind, Walther, sniffing my wind! Kill him!” he yelled to his underlings. They dropped what they were doing, produced a rusty assortment of weapons, and attacked with a shout.
The Mad Lord smiled and threw himself into action. “Hide, you people!” he said in commanding Dirge. “Protect yourselves!”
“No, stay where you are,” Kold Dirged back.
Stenstrom felt sick as the two Dirges clashed and competed in his head.
“I said hide—and that’s final!” the Mad Lord’s Dirge ripped into their heads as he clashed steel with the first of many henchmen to reach him.
They were free. Stenstrom was seized by his collar and pulled under the table by his sister Lyra. Virginia landed at his side with a “whuff!” still wearing her bib. The whole family had thusly taken refuge. Stenstrom couldn’t see much under the table. He saw many pairs of booted and shoed feet moving about in confusion, some running in various directions, others Wafting in and out in a cloud. He could hear weapons discharging, shouts and curses, and steel clashing. He could see the Mad Lord’s spurred boots mixed in with the other pairs. He could taste the dust that was being kicked up
A pair of boots suddenly were yanked out of sight, followed by a rough crash onto the tabletop above them. A limp hand bounced into view, lightly clutching a Hit-6 fraglock pistol. Lyra quickly grabbed it and placed it in her sash.
People Wafted in and out in sprays of wind. Men collapsed—some apparently pummeled, others shot or stabbed by the Mad Lord.
The sound of fists crunching into faces and biting steel echoed.
Shoed feet approached at a run. “Gah! Take hostages—kill a few!” a henchman yelled. He looked under the table; there was his wide-eyed, scruffy face. “Wait—he’s here! Here’s the kid we’re lookin’ for!” he said as he reached out for Stenstrom.
Lyra raised her hand, and in a blur of movement, shook it. In an instant, she had three silver daggers nested between her slim fingers. With a sweeping motion, she let them fly, burying one in the lout’s chest, another in his neck, and the last in his cheek.
He fell dead. Lyra shook her hand again and had three more daggers ready to go.
Another henchman arrived and knelt down. “What’d you say, Tort?” he cried. He saw Stenstrom. “Ahhh!” he gurgled as Lyra again let fly with her daggers, and, mortally stabbed, he fell next to the first man. She put two protective arms around Stenstrom and Virginia, ready to fend off any further attacks.
“You people could help me, you know!” came a Dirge from the Mad Lord.
Now that they were Dirged free by the Mad Lord, lots of daggers were flying around the yard, sent flying by Stenstrom’s older sisters, as well as gun fire and sword-play from his brothers-in-law and cousins.
“Damn you lot! Damn you!” Kold cried as a cloud of daggers flew in his direction. He Wafted away, leaving his men to their fate.
Eventually, after a good deal of jostling about and noise, things got quiet in a hurry. Pockets of fallen men lay everywhere. Men babbled in pain; some called for their mothers.
“Hold fast, you!” somebody said.
“Oh, do drop your weapons and sit down will you!” the Mad Lord Dirged.
All around, people dropped their weapons and plopped down to the ground as ordered, nobody able to match the Mad Lord’s Dirge.
A single pair of boots approached the table, spurs jingling with each step.
The man knelt down, the leather of his boots creaking.
There he was, the Mad Lord of Walther, hardly even out of breath after all that. He inspected
the dead henchmen. Finally: “Everyone all right under here?”
Stenstrom looked at him: the hat, the mask, the glittering eyes, the handsome face underneath.
Stenstrom thought: He’s not a man—he’s a machine—a robot, look! For a moment, the Mad Lord’s face appeared gilded and jeweled, like a high-quality mannequin made of delicate silver and bits of inlaid gold. But, after a second glance, the Mad Lord appeared as nothing more than flesh and blood.
“What are these contretemps?” Lyra gasped. “Where are the Sisters? This is an outrage!”
“It comes with the territory, my lady.” He kicked at the dead henchmen. “Did you do that?”
“I did.”
“Well done. You Tyrols are always full of surprises. You and your lot fought well. I’ll ask again, are the three of you all right?”
“Yes, yes, we’re fine,” Lyra said, holding onto Stenstrom. “They were after my brother!”
“Were they?” The Mad Lord looked at Stenstrom and did a double-take. Something about the young lad appeared to have gotten his attention. He shook his head and smiled. “Well, what do you know? You’re a fine fellow. What’s your name?”
“Stenstrom,” he replied quietly.
“Well, Lord Stenstrom, keep a clear head and grow up fast, will you? I’m getting too old for this.”
“What in the name of Creation is that supposed to mean?” Lyra said, protective of her brother.
The Mad Lord stood. “It means exactly what I said. Good day.”
And he vanished with a mighty blast as a crowd of shouting people and their mother and father arrived through the hedge.
9 The Black Maidens
Immediately after the incident at Rustam Labyrinth with Lord Sedgwick of Kold, Mother’s demeanor became even more frantic than normal.
He overheard his mother and father talking in the parlor the next evening.
“The Wirguild is on in earnest, and she is coming at our children! Our children!”
“No, no, I heard she is mortally sick . on her death bed.”
“Then, she has helpers, assassins. We have to take steps!”
The next morning, Stenstrom, Lyra and Virginia were taken down to a small Merian ruin near an outcropping of rock.
Mother was solemn. “The attack on us at Rustam has proved to me that the enemies of our House are many, and will not hesitate to come at you, our children. Therefore, it is time to begin your training. Lyra has some pre-indoctrination to it, so she is a little ahead.”
“What training?” Virginia asked.
“Training in matters not spoken of outside of these grounds. Tyrol sorcery.”
She laughed. “My friends in the city told me Tyrol sorcery is a myth.”
Mother raised her hands and shook them. Six silver daggers appeared between her fingers. She approached Virginia and held them to her throat. “And, are these not real, my daughter?”
She shook her hands again, and the daggers vanished. “As I have done for your sisters before, I will teach you as well. When you have mastered these skills, never again will you be defenseless; never will you be disarmed. You shall walk unseen. No lock shall hold you, and no truth shall bind you.”
She produced out of thin air several brightly colored balls. One was magenta purple, one was speckled silver, and the last was solid black.
“What are those?” Stenstrom asked.
“Holystones,” Mother said. “I am determining if we are being watched.
She placed the Holystones on the flat surface of one of the Merian telescopes. She watched them for a moment—they just sat there, glinting in the afternoon sun.
Stenstrom stared at the Holystones—they almost looked good enough to eat, like large gumballs. Far away, someone trimmed the lawns west of the manor.
“Good,” she said at last, apparently satisfied. She produced an odd-looking key and thrust it into a hidden slot in the rock face. A narrow door opened, sliding inward. “Through here,” she said leading them down into the darkness beyond. “Be careful with your footing.”
“Where, where are we going?” Virginia asked hesitant of the dark.
“The culverts. They run for miles. They once were just below the surface, taking the drainage water from the Estherlands to the sea. Now, they lay covered up in layers of modern stone and metal framing and are forgotten, the water long since dried up. It is here in these trackless forgotten spaces that I shall teach you all you need know.”
They made their way down a narrow stone staircase, the air quickly becoming cool and damp. Light blossomed—Mother was holding something in her hand that created a soft yellow light. “Continue down. Quickly. No dawdling!”
Stenstrom could see a vast artificial cavern stretching off into the gloom as they exited the staircase. The floor was a flat ‘U’-shaped basin about two hundred feet wide. The roof, about twenty feet above them, was a confusion of metal lattice and buttress work. It was amazingly quiet in the depths.
Feet crunching on grit and crushed stone, they walked into the dark for a ways until they came upon a small area that had been cleared out. Stone slabs were arranged in a circle. A line of several large chests sat in the darkness nearby.
“You will find several robes in the first chest on the left. I want you to put them on.”
Lyra opened the chest and pulled out three white robes. She passed them out and they scattered into the darkness and changed. When they returned, Mother was sitting on a slab, smoking her usual cigarette, her face lit-up in the orange glow of her coal. Her hand was shaking. They seated themselves around her, and she began.
“You must know by now that your mother has made enemies over the years, some more dangerous than others. I believe these enemies are seeking to harm me through you.”
“You’re talking about Lord Sedgwick of Kold—the man who attacked us in the labyrinth?” Lyra asked.
“Yes, and perhaps others as well.”
“We aren’t helpless, Mother,” Lyra said. She shook her hand, and three daggers appeared.
“Yes, and those skills you possess I am now going to teach your sister and brother.”
“Mother,” Virginia said. “I am elder. Why have you previously instructed Lyra and not me in these arts?”
Lady Jubilee pulled on her cigarette, stoking the coal up to bright orange. “Because, Virginia, you can barely walk erect without falling over. I do not wish to be blunt, but your lack of coordination has given me pause. And you, Bel, you’re so young. It’s time to grow up and face the world, and you must have these skills.”
“Again, Mother,” Virginia said, uncharacteristically defiant, “They say there is no such thing as Tyrol sorcery.”
Mother smiled and took a pull from her cigarette. Stenstrom looked at the glow of the coal, orange-red in the dark.
Suddenly, mother vanished.
“Mother?” he said, his voice lost in the quiet vastness of the culvert.
“They know nothing in the city,” they heard Mother’s voice say, from the shadows. They looked around.
And there was Mother again, sitting right where she was previously. “As I was saying, you three have much to train.”
She set up a brass tripod with a pot hanging under it and started a fire. She tossed in a handful of something granular, and the fire leapt up, turning purple. “You shall learn the ways of nature and of the elements, how they relate, how they react with one another—and I’m not simply talking about chemistry. I’m talking about herbalism, cabalism—all the things of the hidden natural world that the Sisters seem to find so repugnant. I am going to teach you skills that shall protect you. You will learn to walk unseen, past both living and non-living eyes. No lock shall hold you; no locked door shall hinder you as well. So, it is time to begin. First, I am going to introduce you to some friends that you all shall soon become very familiar with. I am going to summon spirits that will guard and keep you safe.”
“What spirits?” Lyra asked.
Mother smoked her ciga
rette. “Spirits your elder sisters are quite familiar with, some more than others. Have you ever wondered why we have no expensive security system installed here in our home? Have you ever considered why we have no private army at hire prowling the grounds as other Houses do? That is because we have something better, more seeing, more tireless. We have the Black Maidens. They are manifestations of spirits of the air. They hover over our grounds, seeing everything. Additionally, they are wonderful chaperones. Once summoned, they will follow you wherever you go, and should you need instant assistance, or should I feel you are in danger, they will spirit you away, back home to me. You three have not vexed me much, however, I’ve been using them on your rebellious sisters for years.”
Mother continued. “I shall require a bit of your blood. All of you, I need blood for the summoning. Now, pay attention, the Black Maidens are given lease to locate your position via smell and sight. They can detect you at great distances via smell, and then home-in precisely by using sight. If your face is covered, they shall not be able to see you. Remember that—your face must be uncovered.”
Stenstrom stirred. “Mother, is this really necessary?”
She put her cigarette down and held out a small bowl. “Yes it is. Now, Bel, I shall demonstrate. Give me a bit of your blood.”
He took the bowl. Mother produced a dagger and cut him in the arm. He bled into the bowl for a few moments, and she handed him a cloth to tend to his cut. Virginia, watching this, appeared horrified about having to cut herself. Lyra was nonplussed.
Mother added various herbs, salts and metals to the bowl of Stenstrom’s blood. She poured the contents into a pot and began stirring. “This process is very delicate—the potential to go wrong is high. What you want is a Black Maiden—and they are fairly harmless.”
As Mother stirred, a cloud of steamy smoke issued from the pot. It coalesced into the form of a tall, gaunt, and pale maiden with a sunken face. She wore gossamer veils of black that floated about her on phantom winds. She drifted about, tilting one way, then another. “Please sit next to my son,” Mother said.