“You are a pain in the ass, Bear Fellaxe. You cry like a woman,” Aldren said as Dirk walked out of earshot.
“And you, you little vagabond, you stay quiet like a good hound,” Bear replied.
When Selric and Dirk carried Melissa into the hearth room, she could see there was a party atmosphere as they set her in a chair before the fire. Everyone was there: Aldren, Bear, Mendric, Dirk, Selric, Alanna, Will, Fiona, and that red-headed girl: everyone but Cinder, Relarius, Marlo, and Donagee.
Melissa had taken the loss of her three house mates roughly, still weak from Cinder’s death, though she kept it concealed. With the Fiend gone, Melissa was now the only one who knew how Cinder had died: scared, alone and begging. She tried to tell herself that maybe the Fiend was lying, but she saw Its cruelty and she knew that basically, the story was true. And she knew Cinder’s last thoughts. That was the biggest indicator that It had not lied. She could not bear to tell her friends, so she left them ignorant. They had begun their recovery. Melissa was just beginning to feel the pain and the loss, and had to go through it alone, secretly, to spare the others the anguish of dealing with it all over again: of dealing with the harsh truth of Cinder’s last moments.
So, she hid her pain as best she could and they all believed her withdrawal was the result of her time as captive of the Fiend. None of them had asked her what happened or what It had done. And she did not volunteer the information. But there, in that room, with all her friends, Melissa cheered a bit. The Fiend was gone, she had narrowly escaped a horrible and painful death, she had avenged Cinder, and most of her close friends were alive, and they cared deeply for her. Even the thought of Dirk and that girl, Tallow, getting closer every day did not bother her at all. Life itself was too big a thrill. A great burden was off her shoulders and she could go on. She reclined deeply into the massive chair and closed her eyes, listening to her friends all around her.
Melissa did not know how long she had been dozing, it seemed only minutes, when she was startled by a closing door. All conversation in the room stopped as everyone gazed at the new arrival. The Stormweathers knew him; it was Faldir, the Head Constable of Andrelia.
“Excuse me, Masters Stormweather,” he said, bowing graciously. “I’m sorry to interrupt. Perhaps I could have a few minutes of your time, in private if you could be so kind.” Selric and Mendric, who was by now completely recovered from the poison and limping only slightly, walked over to him.
“In the foyer, please,” Mendric said, motioning to the door. They went out and closed the huge portal behind them.
“Firstly,” Faldir said, now less formal and more relaxed, “I wish to thank you personally. My life and my job have been spared. If there is anything I can ever do, personally, or secretly with my position,” he said looking cautiously around, “I will do it. You are honorable men beyond reproach and I know you will not abuse such a debt. The legend of your line is true. I also wish to thank you for the people of the entire city. Well done, gentlemen.”
“Alistair Duncan,” Mendric said without hesitation.
“Already done,” Faldir answered with a sly grin, knowing what the nobleman would ask for first. “Yesterday, after I received your message, I had him released. He is now recovering in the House of Healing within the palace. I will answer to His Majesty for it, but that I will gladly do.” Faldir looked at them with his brows raised. “Anything else at the present?” he asked smiling.
The Stormweathers looked at each other and neither could think of anything, not wishing to trivialize his indebtedness. “Good then. Now for the unpleasantness of office.” He took a deep breath. “I attended His Majesty’s council meeting this morning and informed him of all that has transpired.” He sighed again. “There will be no reward, no recognition, no admittance of any blame. The Fiend, in effect, never existed. It never was. Olaf Svenson murdered two women...”
“Two!” Selric blurted in abstract disbelief.
“...and one girl, and was murdered in the sewage plant by thugs,” Faldir continued as if heckled during a speech.
“I didn’t know Alanna was there,” Mendric joked about the thugs, not surprised at the King’s ludicrous behavior. Selric smiled weakly at his brother.
“The attack on the house of your friends, was caused by a band of five werewolves of which two were killed by the Watch. The other three escaped. The citizens will never know the latest feat the Stormweathers have done for them, though all on the council do, and many may be favorably inclined to you and your compatriots in the future,” he said with a knowing nod.
“Well, I guess that’s that,” Selric said.
“Truly,” Faldir added. “Also,” he said sighing, seeming embarrassed, “I need the writ returned, and of course you may not speak of this again. The Fiend never existed, so you could not have killed him or It, etc., etc.”
“Perhaps you’d like to tell our friends?” Mendric asked.
“That’s not fair, Mendric. This isn’t my doing. You know that.”
“Well then, come and meet them, anyway,” Mendric said.
“That, I will. Shall we?” he asked, starting for the door; Mendric opened it for him.
Faldir walked in, paused, and cleared his throat. “Excuse me. I’m Faldir, Head Constable of the City Watch. Though I may get into trouble if it is known that I spoke so candidly to you on a subject that is now officially “secret,” I am indebted to you for your assistance and I wanted to meet those who did great service for their king and city, as well as for their fellow citizens. However, the King, in his finite wisdom, has decreed that the Fiend never existed. It is now treason to speak of Its existence.” Murmuring arose from those gathered there.
“What!” Bear bellowed, trying to rise from his place on the couch. “Look at me. Who did this? Pixies?”
Selric looked winsomely at Faldir and said, “He’ll be the toughest to convince, but the others should be no problem.”
Faldir nodded then said, “Please,” speaking to all, but looking at Bear. “I realize, I truly do, your heroics and your trials, but it is the King’s will, not my own. I can only warn you for your own safety. Someday, maybe, your actions may be rewarded.” He turned to Selric. “Now may I be introduced?” Selric led him about the room, introducing him to everyone there and telling a bit about them and their hand in stopping the Fiend.
“And this is Melissa,” Selric said, going lastly to her. “She killed the Fiend. She is the best archer I have ever seen. And she did it with a bow given her by Ponjess for her part in capturing the Temple Thief.”
“That’s right. I’d almost forgotten that you all did that as well. Melissa,” he said bending near her, “a job well done.” Melissa smiled slightly, but looked away and refused to acknowledge him afterward. “Well, anyway,” Faldir continued, “how did you find the Fiend on that fateful night?”
Dirk and Selric looked at each other. Dirk remembered the stranger talking about his desire to overthrow the king. “I was informed by...” he hesitated.
“By a contact I had in the docks,” Selric interrupted, having been told by Dirk of his secret friend, and hoping to protect him until more could be discovered of this strange man and his plans.
“You had a contact in the docks?” Faldir asked. “I heard that you moved in strange circles, but the docks?”
“Actually, I met Alanna there,” Selric said, calling her over. She took his arm.
“Ahhh,” Faldir said in understanding. “I should travel the docks more often.” He turned to them all, but his eyes fell on Melissa. “Again, I thank you all deeply.” He smiled broadly. “Of course, this conversation never took place,” to which most of them laughed. “Farewell, all.” He turned and shook the hands of the Stormweathers. “If you need anything, let me know. And stay in touch.” Selric walked to the mantle and retrieved the writ, which he handed the lawman. Faldir laughed. “You put this to some unique uses,” he said. “And the tent...” He laughed as he walked out, shaking the writ in his hand. Hi
s laughter died away as he shut the door.
Everyone sat silent for a moment then Melissa spoke. “I’d like to go back to bed,” she said, her memories becoming painfully strong.
“I’ll take her,” Dirk said eagerly, running over. He gently picked her up, being careful of her knee, and carried Melissa to her room and placed her gently into bed. He covered her up and turned to leave.
“Don’t go,” she said. “Not yet.” She seemed troubled. “Dirk?” she asked hesitantly, “could there be another Fiend? A helper or something?” Dirk sat by her and took her hand.
“I don’t think so. We would have seen some clues.”
“But...” she said then paused.
“What, Missy? What happened? Did you see one? Tell me.”
“When I was there...”
“Where?”
“There,” she said, “chained up. I heard two voices outside the door.” Dirk sat up, a worried look on his face. “I mean, he wasn’t as wicked, but he let It live.”
“It? Olaf Svenson?” Dirk asked.
“It was an It, Dirk. Maybe It looked like Svenson, but It could not have been human,” she said, growing upset and her voice cracking.
“What did they say?” Dirk asked, thinking she was becoming hysterical, and wanting to know what she had heard, not her strain-induced conjectures.
“Well,” Melissa began, calming herself, “that they had the same goals. The other voice knew Cinder, and he told the Fiend not to kill us and to leave us alone. It sounded like he liked us.” Dirk put his hand gently over Melissa’s mouth and calmed her.
“No, Missy. That was a man I know. He’s the one that told us where you were.” She looked confused.
“Why didn’t he help me? I made noise and he heard it,” she said, tears filling her eyes and her voice breaking at remembering her fear, and she slapped the bed in frustration.
“I don’t think he knew it was you,” Dirk said, hugging her close. “He didn’t know until I told him that you were missing. Then he seemed upset and said that if he’d known, he would have saved you. He said he was coming to help us, but I guess he didn’t find us in time. But the Fiend was doing something against the King. I suppose by causing all the trouble. That’s what the man wanted, to bring down the king.”
“I don’t understand,” Melissa said, lying back and closing her teary eyes.
“Neither do I,” said Dirk. “But don’t worry. He’s helped me before. That’s the man who helped you carry me to my room when the knights beat me up that time at Cinder’s place. He won’t hurt you, I promise. The Fiends are all gone.”
At the mention of Cinder, Melissa began to sob, but refused to tell Dirk why. He still thought she was afraid of more Fiends and he hugged her close. Though it made her angry for him to think that she was scared, since she prided herself on her fearlessness, Melissa let him believe it. She didn’t want to tell him the real reason she wept. When she finally fell off to sleep, Dirk returned to the hearth room.
“Well?” he asked Selric, “I guess it’s time to get on. I’ll take Tallow and Bear, if he’ll come, back to the store.”
“All right. We’ll probably get together every week or so,” Selric said. “We’ll have a party, or maybe a ball. Who knows? Adventuring?”
“No,” Dirk said quickly, his hand raised and shaking his head adamantly. “Not for quite a while. I’ve had enough adventure,” he said sadly. Dirk and Tallow gathered their things and took a wagon, with Bear in it, home.
“I guess I can go home now,” Tallow said quietly.
“Yep, I guess so,” Dirk said. He didn’t want to ask her, and was glad when she volunteered. “Will you still work for me?”
“At the store?” she asked excitedly.
“Of course. Where else?” he asked. Tallow shrugged with embarrassment.
“Yes. Yes I would like that, Dirk,” she said. “I was hoping I could. I’ve learned so much, and the books are fascinating and the numbers and keeping stock...”
“Whoa,” Dirk said, “settle down, you can keep the job.” He put an arm around her and Tallow hugged him as tightly as she could.
“You’ve been so nice to me,” she said, smiling. “It was so sweet to move me in with you to protect me. You’re sweet. Can I tell you I love you?” Dirk blushed.
“Hey!” Bear yelled. “Knock it off. If anyone needs attention, it’s me. Ouch, oh, I’m hurt.”
“Well, you’ll have to find another girl,” Tallow said with a grin, still hugging Dirk tightly. “Dirk’s the only one who gets my affection.”
It was the next day when Melissa, Fiona, and Aldren returned home. It was tough for them all, especially Fiona. She had known the dead men a long time and had converted them to her religion. They were good friends and died protecting the only person Fiona had ever loved. To help with the loss of manpower, Bear agreed, when recovered, to move in for the remainder of the winter and help protect their employer. But in the spring, it was time for him to hit the trade routes again, sooner if he recovered and could replace his dogs, the gates once more open during good weather since the Fiend had been dispatched.
They would have moved out completely, but Fiona’s temple was there, and she would not leave it. But she did agree to start looking for a place and when they found it, she would slowly move her things; they would quit their jobs, and live off the money they had made on their adventure into the moors. Aldren stayed around and the girls even talked of maybe taking him on one of their adventures. He, like Melissa, loved horses and he talked with her on the subject for hours, and they even took rides together, distracting Melissa from her secret pains. He did whatever it took to help clear her mind of whatever saddened her so deeply.
Fiona had done all she could for Melissa’s leg, but the only way for her abdominal wound—the one given by the Fiend’s blade—was time. Aldren and Fiona constantly mothered her, and made sure that she lay down at every opportunity in the early weeks, and always made saw that she was not alone; for that was when she felt the most down. Fiona’s shoulder healed well enough in a month and she retained full use of her arm, her steadfast prayers and use of divine magic kept her wound from affecting her as deeply as Melissa’s. Though Melissa limped for some time after and felt pain in the original wound suffered at the hands of the Fiend and in alley for the rest of her life, she was soon up and about.
Selric and Alanna did not marry that winter, as per the request of Lord Stormweather. But she did stay in the Marshal’s room until the family’s return. Realizing the care she had shown for him while ill, Mendric did warm considerably to her, and he was able to treat her as she was, the fiancé of his only brother. They even spent long hours talking about this, or that, and he taught her much in the way of etiquette so she could impress the Lord and Lady upon their return. And at aristocratic functions, Mendric often talked more with Alanna, than his own high class companions. Their relationship had taken a turn for the better.
King Alhad Buchevelt sat in his vast study, reading “Leadership Methods Through Mass Manipulation” by Acobar the Malignant, famed tyrant who lived over seven hundred years earlier, when Ponjess Thunderstaff came in carrying a box wrapped with a bright red ribbon.
“What is that?” Alhad asked disdainfully, his nose wrinkled at the apparent gift.
“Your majesty,” Ponjess said bowing his head, “this was found outside the gate. It is addressed to you.”
“Oh?” he said, his brows raised. “Give it to me.” He took the gift from his advisor and looked it over. A card was attached to the top. Alhad pulled the card from under the ribbon and read it aloud.
“Perhaps I should open…”
“Nonsense,” the King said.
“As you wish,” Ponjess sighed.
“”This is a note to myself. This note is to remind me that I am only human, and as such I am mortal. As king, it is my duty to protect my people and I will do this above all other things, even if these other things be favorable or profitable to me. This note a
nd the gift attached are both to me, to remind me always that if I do not serve the people, then I will not be their king.” It is signed, “You know who, don’t you?””
“What!” Alhad bellowed. “What treachery is this? I want this culprit found and killed,” he screamed, his face red with rage, spittle running from the corner of his mouth which he quickly wiped away with his silk shirt sleeve. “I want this...this threat examined. Find out whose handwriting this is and have him brought before me.” He threw the card at his tutor and hurriedly untied the ribbon.
Ponjess glanced over the letter and having copied his king’s hand thousands of times, knew exactly whose it was, or at least whose writing it was modeled after. Alhad opened the lid to the box and looked inside. With a gasp, he let it fall from his lap and the box struck the floor: a blackened, charred head rolled from it. The skin was burned tight to the large skull and most of the facial features such as the ears and the nose had been burned away, but the lips were pulled back to reveal the mouthful of teeth highlighted by the four large canines.
“Who...who did this? Who would dare do this to me! The King!” he screamed. “Find out who’s writing that is. Don’t stand here looking at it all day. Investigate!”
Ponjess hesitated a moment, laughing only on the inside, then decided to tell his liege, “My King, it is your hand, or a very close forgery.”
Selric walked alone down the street, as he came to do later every night, heading for the same destination just before sunset. But tonight was the first night. He walked into The Unicorn’s Run and though he had been in there alone many hundred times, it seemed so lonely and empty that first night. He sat in his seat and gently touched the chair on which Cinder used to sit, the chair, indeed the table, where the guards now forbade anyone else to rest. Selric smiled then called for the most special wine in the house, wine from Cinder’s bottle, kept behind the counter for Selric and his friends only, and he drank a silent toast to her, and to his dear friends. He sat a few moments, then rose and walked out.
By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) Page 46