by J. A. Pitts
The fear was back. Suddenly I was twelve, sleeping in the back of our car while sleet beat down on the roof. “Why? What happened?”
“Your mother wouldn’t say. She just thought you should know. Maybe thought you could come home, talk some sense into him. It was because of you they settled in Crescent Ridge. You knew that, right? He risked whatever scared him so badly so you could have a normal life.”
How many times can you say “fuck” in a day before you use up your allotment. I squeezed the bridge of my nose, trying to keep the tears from coming.
“She’ll run,” I said, looking at the most recent pictures of her. “If he tells her they’re moving, she’ll disappear. That’s what I was going to do.”
“That’s what your mother is afraid of.” She reached over and took my hands in hers. “Sarah. Your family needs you. Your sister needs you. Can’t you find some way to make this right?”
I pulled away from her, stormed over to the living room, and started throwing on my jacket and gloves. “I gotta go,” I said, feeling like a coward. “I can’t. Not now.”
She followed me to the living room and handed me my helmet. “What are you afraid of?”
I stopped, looked at her, and felt the fear tight and hard in my chest. “I can barely fix myself. I have dragons and necromancers screwing up my world. How can I bring that down on them? They have enough problems.”
“I see.” She walked to the door and opened it, giving me a free escape route. “I’m sure Megan will understand that when she’s living on the streets, hooked on heroin.”
Not fair. The runes tattooed on my body flared to life. The berserker rose in me: fight or flight, what’s it gonna be? I sat down on the couch, collapsed really, slamming it back against the wall. I put my fists on the sides of my head to hold in the scream I felt building. Keeping that in your head was the hardest thing in the world. So why try?
I shrieked, and Julie shut the door. I wailed, stamping my feet and slamming myself back into the couch, over and over. It only lasted a minute or so, and I only quit when the couch broke. It collapsed under me, broke the main support beam or something. My ass was on the floor, and my throat hurt from the screaming.
“Feel better?” Julie asked. I looked up and she was sitting in a kitchen chair she’d pulled into the living room to watch me. I’d knocked over the coffee table, somehow. I didn’t even remember touching it.
“Quite the tantrum.”
I took slow deep breaths, or slower than I’d been doing. It took me almost three minutes before my heart beat began to stop hammering in my head. It was possible I pulled something in my neck, or maybe my back.
“What am I supposed to do?” I asked. “Jesus, Julie. If Da’s set on running, how can I possibly stop him?”
“You faced a dragon, for fuck’s sake,” she said, her voice rising for the first time. “You faced that bastard while the rest of us lay broken and mangled. Even when he fled, you chased his sorry ass down to his lair and took the fight to him. You’re stronger than anyone I know, Sarah. Why can’t you give some of that to them? Go to them, or at least go to Megan. She’s drowning, and they’re both terrified they’ll lose her and then they’ll have nothing.”
“I’ll figure something out.” Sure, why not? Not like I had anything else going on. I climbed out of the ruins of the couch and rolled my neck. Something definitely strained there. The runes were itching, the ones on my scalp more than the ones on my leg. I needed clarity. Maybe I needed to take Gram out. When I held her things always seemed clearer. Of course, that was usually in the way of problem solving through violence.
Julie stepped to me and pulled me into a hug. I let her hold on for a brief instant before I hugged her back. It was exactly what I needed. The runes started to fade. No battle, no need for immediate action. Just a moment of quiet support and comfort.
I stepped back, and she held on to my shoulder with one hand and wiped the tears from my face with her other. “You can do great things, Sarah. You just need to figure what’s most important here.”
“I can’t bring this down on them,” I said, quietly. “I hate letting Katie go to work each day. I’d feel safer if she was out at Black Briar, but that hasn’t totally mellowed yet.”
She nodded.
“I need to find Justin, stop him from killing people around me. Hell, I’d tell him where I am, let him know how to find me, just to have that final confrontation, but I don’t know how.”
“Would it do you any good?” she asked. “Don’t you think, maybe…” she shrugged, stepping back farther. “I don’t know about anything really, but necromancers deal with death and fear. Maybe he’s just messing with you.”
Crud. That made total sense. “You know, Jean-Paul liked to play with his food, too.”
She cringed, and I regretted the comment immediately. I started to say something, but she held up a hand.
“No, don’t.” She took a shuddering breath and looked up, defiant. “He’s had enough time in my head. I realized that today, after Frederick came. After your mother.” She waved her arm around, taking in the world. “I’ve been hiding here. Afraid to step outside these walls, to tell the truth. Going to see Mrs. Sorenson was the best I could muster most days.”
Now it was my turn to listen. I stepped back and sat down on the arm of the broken couch.
“That plan we discussed out at Mary’s. I’m going to do it. Start back to work, get some steel in my hands, touch some horses, have a life again.”
“Excellent,” I said. About time! But I didn’t say that out loud. I’d never been helpless like that, had no way of knowing the battle she’d undergone all these months. “We should start a support group,” I offered.
She laughed. “I was thinking about seeing a therapist, but how do you explain to one of them about abuse at the hands of trolls, giants, and a dragon?”
“Good point. We’ll just have to support each other.”
She looked earnest again, resolved. “That’s my exact point,” she said. “We have to support those we love, and your family should be at the top of the list.”
“Da would never approve of my lifestyle,” I said, resigned. “He would hate my hair—my clothes—my friends.”
“Maybe. But don’t you think you should make the effort, find out for sure?”
“I’ll try,” I said, giving in. “I’ll think of something while I’m figuring all this other stuff out. If Justin went after them?” I had no idea what I’d do. I already wanted to kill the bastard, and I could only do that so much.
“You’ll think of something.”
I hugged her again before I left, just quickly, and promised to contact them, somehow. I didn’t say when, though. My head was swimming.
There was one thing I needed, however. I went to the desk where my computer still sat and pulled the cashier’s check out of the bottom drawer. Blood money or no, there were some things I could be doing and that fifty thousand dollars would make a helluva lot things simpler.
I needed some help, and the only crew I trusted was out at Black Briar. Katie needed to be there as well. I called her, told her I was heading to her brother’s, and that I needed her there. She agreed, reluctantly, which was good enough for me.
Forty-one
I made a list in my head of all the shit I needed to do as I rode out to Black Briar. Dealing with Frederick and Mr. Philips was on the list, but not the most urgent priority in my hierarchy of needs.
I needed to find Justin; free Qindra; make a freaking gate for Nidhogg; get Anezka back working at a forge, which would also help out Bub; reconcile Katie and Jimmy; oh and what—world peace?
All the members of the brain trust were there: Deidre, Jimmy, Stuart, Gunther, Anezka, Bub, and Katie.
The meeting went well. Even Katie got into the conversation. We discussed everything but my mother.
They let me lead the conversation, as I had all the pieces in my head. They filled in a few places, even Bub and Anezka chiming in, and b
y the end of the day, we had a plan.
Some of the things on the list were out of our control, but there was one thing that would benefit a lot of us and that we could begin immediately.
We were going to build a smithy on the farm. Nothing fancy—more like what Anezka had up in Chumstick rather than the slick setup we had with Julie before the dragon came.
Stuart knew a guy selling a pickup that would fit the needs of a farrier. He could get it for about ten grand. I’d done enough research on forges, anvils, and such to know I could outfit a forge pretty well for about fifteen grand more.
Jimmy and Deidre would cover the building itself. They’d already planned to expand the outbuildings more, so this fit right in.
It felt good to have a plan for something. And this way, in a week or so, I could start building that gate for Nidhogg. Anezka and I had already started the design, and she was working my math skills pretty hard. I had to do all the planning, but she checked my work. Everything had to be documented on paper. It was crazy.
Working things under my control felt good, liberating. I’d find Justin, somehow, but there was nothing stopping me getting Anezka into some fire-and-steel therapy. Would be nice to do some hammering again.
Between the contacts the Black Briar folks had and the free labor provided by the troop volunteers we had the ground cleared, a cement foundation poured, and the place framed by the next weekend. It was crazy. Everyone was excited to be working on something constructive.
Meanwhile, I continued the farrier work. Needed to keep the customers happy. Katie continued her teaching, and we both spent weeknights at Flight Test working on the prelims for the next movie shoot. Sleep was hard to come by all of a sudden. I loved it.
We made lists of all the women I possibly knew, and I checked on as many of them as I could. I didn’t want anyone else murdered for me. Luckily, things had gone quiet on that front. Maybe he’d figured out who I was already.
The Mr. Philips thing wasn’t going as well. I had no clues, and no contacts with this Dragon Liberation Front. Rolph and Skella were asking around in their circles, but so far they’d turned up nothing. Frederick was not a happy camper.
But Black Briar was euphoric. For the first time in a while, when I walked among the people of Black Briar I felt joy. Folks needed something positive to do, and watching a haunted house in Chumstick was really not as uplifting as it sounds.
It took another couple of days to get the smithy set up the way we could agree to, but by early December, despite the crappy weather, we were christening the new smithy. Julie, Mary Campbell, and Mrs. Sorenson came out for the big party as well.
Stuart kept a look out for Odin. The crazy one-eyed god had shown up at our last party a month or so earlier. How the time had flown.
The smithy was set up for two smiths to work at the same time. Anezka and I had worked it out ahead of time, and we’d begun working on separate projects a few days ahead of the official christening.
We presented our first works at the party, to much applause and adulation.
Anezka handed Jimmy a set of hinges and a new latch to be used on the old barn when we rebuilt her. Deidre loved them, giving Anezka a lot of public praise, which tickled her to no end.
Bub got in on the joy, as he’d helped both of us. For three days, that little monster was so happy he collapsed each day with the greatest smile on his face.
I built a twisted metal lattice that would connect the barracks to the new barn, where the troops worked out and kept their gear. In the spring we’d plant wisteria, and in a couple years it would be thick and fragrant, adding a nice bit of calm to the farm.
All in all the party was a huge success. It felt good to be doing something positive, moving in a good direction. Don’t get me wrong, the fear of murder and mayhem hung over all of us, but for a few weeks it had abated.
Didn’t hurt that no new women were found murdered. Maybe the murdering bastard had tripped in the shower or something. Whatever the reason, everyone was breathing a sigh of relief. Well, most everyone. Jimmy had that look of overwhelming responsibility and fear of failure. Stuart looked like he was ready to wrestle a troll to the ground, and Gunther watched Anezka like she was going to collapse at any minute.
And Katie, she watched me. The intensity was strong, but I cut her some slack. She was worried about me in general, mostly concerned that I hadn’t come up with a plan to get with my family. All in good time.
Forty-two
The mountains pressed in around them, adding a sense of foreboding to the day. Justin paused at the entrance to the cave and cast a glance back at his faithful minions. Dane, a brutish man that Justin was sure had troll in his lineage, was an adept of the vilest magic, while Tobin was more refined in his practices and tastes. The two of them made an odd pairing though their strengths were greatly enhanced for their willing cooperation. Tobin did not let his Elvish heritage sway his desires for the meaner aspects of this shallow world. The fairness of his visage did not speak to the true madness beneath his brow.
Justin waved at the two. “They were here,” he said. “I can smell the sword wielder.” And there was definitely troll spawn here, he thought. It was weeks old—maybe older. Death had occurred here. The lingering energy of battle and blood were unmistakable.
Dane knelt by snow-dusted cairn and ran his hand above the stones. Power crackled from his hands, sending blue and yellow sparks into the air. He nodded. “Dead less than a month. Definitely a troll—female.”
“Breeder,” Tobin said. He leaned against the bole of a tall oak and scanned the trees along the edge of the clearing with practiced vigilance.
“Shall I raise her rotting corpse and send her down to the enemy?” Dane asked, his voice gravelly and deep.
Tobin chuckled, but Justin cut across him. “Don’t be a fool. Would you give away the game so early?”
Dane stood, the power fading from his shimmering fist. “No, you’re right. I was merely asking.”
Justin let his smile return. “The chaos would be delicious, but no. Let’s finish here. I need to see the girl again tonight.”
Dane grunted.
Tobin frowned. “Why is it you always get the pretty toys?”
This time Dane chuckled.
“There will be more than enough for you and your predilections,” Justin said, motioning toward the cave. “You will have a world to choose from once we succeed.”
Tobin pulled a small pouch from his belt and raised a pinch of gray powder to his nose and snorted it. He shook his head like a dog flinging off water, and a manic expression fell across his visage.
“Let’s get this over with,” he growled. “I’m freezing my ass off out here.”
The three entered the cave, seeing the homely home that had been built there. Justin walked around the room, casting small runes in the air, letting intricate red and gold spirals flit about the room.
“She was here,” Justin said. “She and another.” He licked his lips. “Another woman. Her lover.”
Tobin went into the back of the cave but returned with a shake of his head. “Stores, nothing remarkable.”
Dane pulled the bed apart, casting the animal furs into random piles. “She was wounded,” he declared, holding up a blanket.
Justin took it from him, pulled the fur to his face, and breathed deeply. “Blood for sure, and fear,” he said, grinning. “We can use this.”
“To what end?” Tobin asked, his face a mask of frustration. “Jean-Paul got his ass handed to him by a girl, and you’ve spent all your time banging some crybaby who’s afraid of her own shadow.”
Dane looked up, sensing a line being crossed.
But Justin only laughed. “You cloud your mind with that foul drug, and then you to preach to me?” He stepped toward Tobin, punching him in the chest with two fingers. “We need to know her, need to understand her motives and her intentions. Only then can we go forward with the final solution.”
“A glorious day that wil
l be,” Dane said.
Justin glanced at him, expecting more derision, but found the appropriate look of fealty and exaltation. “When I ascend,” he said, “it will be those closest to me that will follow. We will rise up, take the dragons in their beds, and take their places.”
“You’re a fool,” Tobin spat. “Jean-Paul let himself be ambushed. None of the others will be so arrogant, nor as stupid.”
Justin flushed. He’d worshipped Jean-Paul—admired the man, loved the beast. “If it were not for Jean-Paul, we would have nothing,” he said, his voice steely. “I remind you of the debt you owe him, Tobin. Your blood oath.”
Tobin blanched. “You may be a powerful mage, but you are no drake. Do you truly believe you can transform into one of them? That we”—he pointed to Dane and himself—”can follow the same path, to rise to such heights?”
“Without a doubt,” Justin breathed. “We will fall upon them with flames and claw. I will lead the dragons from the shadows and claim my rightful place as the master of all. The countries of men shall cower in the shadows of our mighty wings.” He paused, looking at them both. “And those loyal to me will have glory beyond reckoning.”
Forty-three
Frederick Sawyer paced the length of his suite, the fire rising in his belly. The letter lay in the fireplace, a dusting of ashes. He needed no letter—the words were burned into his brain.
If you ever want to see your able servant alive again, you will follow our orders to the letter. We want no money; this has moved beyond mere greed. This is about liberation for the rightful rulers of the world. We will rise up and shatter the shackles this ancient order has placed on us for far too long.
We will rise, the true rulers of the world, Draconis Imperi.
We request your presence, in all your glory at a time and place to be named. Do not be afraid to show your true magnificence. It is time to rise up and greet the new dawn of civilization.
“Reavers,” Frederick spat. “Power-hungry idiots who should all be hunted down and killed. They will destroy everything the high council has built.”