by Scott Duff
The first level of wards, never truly extinguished, tightened around us and through the grounds with a definite feeling of eager and nervous energy and just a touch of defiance. Marty, through and through. Peter and I both jumped up into the wards, splitting our attention between ourselves and Marty ensconced there. Behind him, watching, stood John and Enid, who wore an energy harness of some kind attached to her aura. When I looked at it closely, it appeared to be something like a child’s safety seat with circuit breakers attached. Assuming it was Marty’s safety net in case something went wrong in raising the Castle, I idly traced the connections back and went back to watching Marty work, methodically activating and deactivating different systems, counting people, acknowledging relationships between areas of the farms and stables. A boring three seconds of maintenance that he handled with practiced ease.
That’s when I noticed he wasn’t the occupant of Enid’s safety net—Felix was. He was very weak and still bleary around the edges but he was eagerly watching Martin around Enid’s aura.
“Why didn’t you tell us Felix was awake?” I asked Gordon, still staring at the house like answers would pop out on a ticker tape.
“Shut!” barked Gordon, his eyes flashing dark for a second, then brightening again instantly. He whispered, “Nobody’s supposed to know that yet. Especially Martin. Not yet.”
The next stage of wards flared to life and space underneath them thickened considerably. Creating a portal through it would have been extremely difficult, if possible at all, and Martin’s awareness of hundreds of acres increased a thousandfold. From here, Martin could identify people as if he was in front of them all across the property. People like Gordon and John, bonded to the wards, could communicate with him. I was able to slip in and out of those bonds and I assumed that Peter could do the same.
When Marty brought up the final stage of the wards, I understood why they capitalized the “C” in “bringing up the Castle”—it was freakin’ awesome! This was a Castle! Energy constructs of gold lit the front of the house in a classic fortification of stony structure. Turrets loomed high overhead promising to rain arrows, rocks, or even boiling oils down on us at any moment. Dark magenta and black sigils marred the sides in an angry script, promising to rebound and magnify magical attacks to the attackers. Stony gargoyles glistening in the sun roamed a thin ledge halfway up the walls to deter approach from that route. The parapets were lined every few feet with cannons—Cannons!—every fifth one bigger than the others. Slits near the top were just wide enough to allow bowmen, or in this age gunmen, to fire on an advancing enemy from relative safety. And it had a moat. Swirling in angry red around the base of the golden construct was a fast-flowing river, fifty feet wide, of pure ley line energy.
“Wow,” Ian said. Yep, he spoke for all of us. It was impressive. Gordon started laughing. Martin appeared in the doorway of his Castle, looking incredibly small in the big house and the Castle superimposed so immensely around him.
“You cheeky bastard!” Gordon yelled across the moat to him. “The moat? You brought out the moat?”
Marty puffed his chest out and hollered back, “Told you I could do it!”
I heard a small ruckus to our left and looked at a small crowd of men and women that had gathered nearby. Mostly people I recognized, Billy among them, from the house and grounds with a few new arrivals. Money was being exchanged rapidly, and obviously, and all from new arrivals to the people I knew. A surge of pride and admiration flowed through their auras brightly. Apparently, they had a betting pool going. Billy nodded his head at the Castle and smiled. Then he held his hand out, not looking back. The betting winners grimaced, then piled their money in his outstretched hand.
Meeting my look and still smiling, with his free hand he mimed a circle on the ground and mouthed, “I bet on the moat.”
“You can bring it down now!” yelled Gordon. “Then turn around!”
Martin began the process of bringing the Castle down to less energetic levels. It took much longer than bringing the Castle up. Marty had to realign two ley lines during this task and it was just as important as raising the Castle.
“I take it the moat is a big deal?” I asked Gordon as he waited impatiently for the last of the red energy to trickle away from the drive.
“Hah!” he barked, his spirits high and happy. “Cahill hasn’t been able to fill the moat in close to three hundred years. Whatever you and Kieran have done has cleared and repaired several things. He did very well, don’t you think?”
“Oh yes,” said Peter. “That was impressive.”
“Could I do that?” Ian asked Ferrin, eagerly and awed at the prospect. Ferrin was struck by the question, not knowing how to answer without crushing Ian’s feeling.
“No, Yonnie, I’m afraid not,” he said softly. “It’s a matter of control…” He struggled for the right words.
“Marty was born under these wards,” Gordon said to Ian. “He was bonded to them at an early age, just as I was. It’s nothing against you or your abilities or your brother’s. The Castle is the haven, the last defense for my home and my people. As such, we can let very few people have control of that. When the Castle was up a moment ago, even I couldn’t get in and I know them as well or better than Martin does. We can’t have a battle inside the Castle, fighting for control.”
Ian nodded at Gordon with understanding. He was a latchkey kid before Dunstan’s so he understood the idea at least. We all started for Marty once the moat finally trickled away. We heard him call “Da?” and Gordon looked up smiling.
“He finally turned around,” he said as Marty ran up into the house.
“You gonna tell us now?” I asked. Ferrin looked completely lost.
“Da woke up an hour ago,” Gordon said. “He overheard me snapping at Martin about being mean to John in the room next to his. I know I shouldn’ta and he was right, but John has been Da’s man for a long time and it made me mad. So Da talked Mother into making Martin prove it. And the cheeky bastard got the moat up!” He couldn’t contain himself any longer and took off at a run through the doors and up the stairs.
“See? I told you it would work out,” I heard Ferrin whisper to Ian, hugging the boy tightly. “He works miracles.”
Damn, I wish people would quit saying that.
Chapter 58
Ian touched the hilt of the Day Sword with one finger under Ferrin’s nervous eyes. I was needlessly wiping the scabbard down with a silk cloth. The Night sat on my bed to the left of me, the Crossbow snapped into the Quiver in front of me, both freshly and needlessly cleaned and cared for. Ferrin basked his little brother in some of the legends associated with each weapon as I went. I reinforced with each what he could and could not touch, even with me sitting an inch away.
John had met us in the foyer of the house after Gordon took off after Martin and led us through the armory into a smaller and more heavily warded room. Unsealing the door, he dragged Peter and Ferrin inside, leaving Ian and me outside. When they came out, Peter had two knives stuck into each boot and two on his belt. Ferrin had a similar knife on his belt and around his neck, he wore a thin leather strap with sharp iron spikes. It was more in line with his street punk attitude than the country gentleman veneer he showed around Ian. John resealed the room then excused himself again.
Ferrin’s nervousness subsided considerably as I slid the scabbard onto the Day without moving the Sword off the bed. I admit mine did, too. Even certain the Day wouldn’t have taken Ian, it was still a very sharp blade. Peter sat in the chair in the corner near where his earlier note lay (hopefully) decaying, tossing one of his newly acquired knives deftly between his hands, bouncing it off his forearms, chest, and thighs. I wasn’t aware that he knew those tricks and he was good at it. He hadn’t cut himself once. I’d have been stew meat by now.
I called the weapons in and they flew into me from the bed. Ian gasped, then grinned when they disappeared into me. Ferrin stood and discreetly left the room.
“I felt the
same way the first time that happened to me,” I told Ian.
“Where do they go?”
“I have a place in my head they gather in,” I answered. “Well, not really my head, it’s more like where my imagination sits. And they’re there, too, along with a bunch of other things. Don’t you have a place like that in your head?”
“Not that I could put stuff in,” Ian said shaking his head.
“Show him the armor,” Peter said, sheathing his knives.
“This isn’t show and tell, Peter,” I admonished.
“Please!” Ian whined, making the word last a full minute, seemed like.
Peter winced. “I see why my parents waited so long between kids.”
“All right, all right,” I gave in and stood up off the bed. “Just this once, but these aren’t toys just to show around. These are powerful and dangerous tools, just like Gordon was talking about with the Castle, okay?” Ian giggled and nodded, sitting cross-legged on the bed expectantly. I called on the Stone for the armor and Ian’s face cracked in surprise. He looked me up and down slowly, then climbed off the bed slowly and walked around me. He reached out and touched my stomach, lightly at first, afraid the armor would bite in some way like the Swords, then more brazenly when I didn’t object.
“You’re bigger,” he muttered.
“Yeah, that’s armor for you,” I said, melting the helmet. “Seen enough?”
He ran his fingers up over the ridges of the abdominal muscles that I didn’t really have then nodded absently. I let the armor slip back into the Stone. I felt John come into the hallway between our rooms just as Ferrin came out of his. Exchanging a few words, John left and Ferrin came back in, dressed in what was becoming his less familiar street attire.
“While they appreciate the extra hour you’ve given them,” he said without fanfare, “they are as ready as they’ll ever be and are waiting in the fore garden with all the food they can muster.”
“Does anybody know where the fore garden is?” I asked.
“It’s got to be the one with all the people,” offered Peter.
“I do. I’ll show you,” said Ian, grabbing Ferrin’s hand and dragging him out the door. He was unfazed by Ferrin’s clothes, but I wanted to object and loudly. I brushed the wards and saw instantly where we were headed: just off the dining room sat a terraced garden I hadn’t been in with a large, long table stretched out near an exit fromthe kitchens. Clumps of people were there, eating and talking. It looked like a big party, though the mood of the people didn’t match the joviality they portrayed as I watched. Ian’s route to the garden was far more direct than any I knew, down a long narrow set of stairs with a couple of quick turns down some halls I hadn’t seen before. We came out through a door near the kitchen and behind the banquet table. I was gonna have to get a map from Gordon or Marty.
We walked around to the far end of the table, looking over the crowd milling about. Anxiety levels were high, but everyone seemed focused. At the moment, everyone was focused on the double doors to the dining room. Ian headed for Martin and Gordon, still dragging Ferrin along, so we followed, slowing long enough to snag a piece of a submarine sandwich off the table. Ian and Martin started talking instantly. Marty had been surrounded by adults too long and fell right into being an excited kid.
“Who are we waiting for?” Peter asked Gordon.
Gordon turned and said, “Seth and Peter should be down any…” He stopped when he realized he was talking to Peter. “You came down the back stairs, didn’t you?”
Peter nodded, munching the last of his sandwich. “Ian brought us.” Ferrin and I stood by and looked innocent. Well, we were innocent.
Gordon smiled and shook his head. Facing the group, he called out loudly, “Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have your attention please. It’s time to begin.” Everyone turned to Gordon and quieted immediately. Bishop strode through the crowd, jumping the terrace wall to join us.
“I’m going to put a bell on you boys,” he said as he passed us. “Thank you, Gordon.” I felt Bishop press his power into planes of odd shape and push them out over the people he addressed. When he spoke again, those planes echoed and amplified his voice nicely without distortion within the garden. It was different than what I would have used, but it worked.
“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming. We do appreciate every aspect that has come into this operation, not the least of which has been the timing. And timing will continue to be crucial. I know you are all aware of what has occurred over the last few weeks. We are at war against unknown enemies and we have an opportunity to help remove one. But we are few and we have been shown that even the greatest of us can be hurt.” He paused for a moment, glancing sideways up at the house where we all knew Felix lay.
“We are not here to fight a sustained battle; we face MacNamara, a liege of Faery.” He added such fierce awe in those seven words that even I started to be impressed. “Our one and only job is to harass. Go in, get the job done, and get out. Don’t be a hero, don’t get distracted, and do not stray. This is crucial for two reasons. First, the two American councils are assisting from their continent on the other side of the compound we are attacking. And second, there are two others just like these two already there.” He waved his hand at Peter and me, grinning.
“The men beside me here saved Europe last night. In the largest elven attack against us since the days of Merlin, these four young men, led by a seventeen-year-old boy, fought close to two hundred seasoned elves to a stand-still while eighty of us stood by and gawked.” Not quite true and now I really wanted to disappear. I slowly started to shift in behind Gordon. He was big enough to hide behind. Peter proved that.
Watching Bishop speak, though, was an education. He changed the cadence and volume as he went, watching the emotions of the audience. I wondered how old he was and how many speeches by Churchill and Hitler he’d witnessed personally. He was certainly old enough to have seen Kennedy and King speak, as well as other masters of that craft.
“And when we thought they were beaten and the elves tried a death-before-dishonor move, he saw the power draw, he saw the problem begin, and he provided the answer! And when the elves dropped a third of the mass of Europe on top of Felix Cahill, he was there, beating his heart, pumping his lungs, stealing his pain!” The passion he put in those three words was creepy. “Felix Cahill lives today because of Seth McClure. We all live today because of Seth McClure and he has demanded only one thing from us: that we be polite. Marchand learned that.” A few chuckles rounded through the crowd. Apparently, the story of me killing his car had gotten around to a few people.
“Seth was set to go alone to rescue his brothers, the other two unseeable wizards. Peter threatened him with something… gruesome if Seth left without him.” Bishop shuddered at the thought, as did about a third of the men in the audience. Peter beamed proudly out at the crowd.
“How did that get out?” I whispered to him. He shrugged but Shrank giggled shrilly from the sling in my shirt he’d managed to sneak back into. I grimaced, shaking my head and inching further behind Gordon.
“Gordon managed a more emotional entry and I believe Mr. Ferrin just didn’t ask at all. The point here is, if we can provide him with the slightest diversion, the smallest distraction, then we can help him achieve his goal and thereby achieve ours. So once again, we’re going to take advantage of young Mr. McClure and send a message back to the Fae.”
He leaned over the edge of the terrace and manifested a shaft of silver fire to support himself. The crowd seemed to lean in with him, expectantly.
“Don’t fuck with us,” he said, barely above a conversational tone, but everybody heard. The resulting shouts of approval and agreement could surely be heard in the next county. And it had the necessary effect. The emotional charge helped to focus everyone. I just wish the focus wasn’t me.
“Laying it on a little thick thar, aintcha, Mr. Bishop?” I asked, cringing inside when my accent slipped out so thick. Then I remembere
d exactly who I picked that up from, back in Savannah, and it stopped bothering me. I liked Mr. Barnes, one of the gardeners, and he deserved the respect he garnered. “I am under no delusions that my mother is a virgin or that any relative created the universe.”
Bishop grinned. “You don’t scare me anymore. I know what buttons to push. Come, we need to know what you plan to do.”
“Oh, that’s simple. I haven’t the foggiest,” I said, looking innocently around. “Peter, you got any ideas?”
“Seth, quit picking on Mr. Bishop,” said Peter, throwing his arm across my shoulders and pulling me from behind Gordon. “You know perfectly well your first move is to create a portal to our brothers. It’s what comes after that that we have no idea about, right?”
“Pretty much, yeah,” I admitted, smiling at Bishop.
“So you have a way to pierce the veil?” Bishop asked. “He is notoriously jealous of his borders.”
“We’re not going to go through the veil, so much as going around it,” I said. Bishop cocked his head and raised both brows, an expression of “well, spit it out, kid,” without actually saying it. “I don’t know how to explain it any better than that.”
“Well, try! We have to follow you,” Bishop said with aggravation.
I knew what I was going to do, but I didn’t know what to call it. In the Pacthome, Peter had claimed it was a summoning when Ethan explained it to him and Peter almost freaked out. I was going to do that in reverse. Push the two of us to them by riding that connection. It wasn’t a portal. It could be if you wanted it, but that was a conscious decision. This was more… primal. I brushed up against Peter’s mind and gave him the idea.
After a moment’s consideration, Peter said, “Yeah, they’re not going to be able to follow that. We’ll have to give them something they can.” We went back and forth with ideas for a few minutes then decided on a simple plan. Not a word was spoken.