From the courtyard where he stood with Alaric discussing ways in which the crowded conditions of the castle could be made a little more bearable, Ian heard an increase in the volume of noise from the great field. Curious as to what the ruckus might mean, the two men moved towards the gate just as a messenger came racing to tell them that Lord Brescom was launching a fresh attack, the most dangerous one thus far. At a half-run, all three men left the castle and started across the great field. A flash skyward gave Ian warning and he altered his course to miss the flaming spear that plummeted to earth behind him. Men came running with buckets of water to douse the flames, but not before another missile landed and began burning not far off. They found Griswold standing well-sheltered on a barbican, cursing steadily as he cautiously peered out at the enemy.
"There ye be!" He exclaimed when he saw that Ian, with Alaric still in tow, had joined him. "Yon devil is a crafty bastard, I'll give him that," were his next words.
"What's happening?" Ian asked as he edged around the other's bulk to look out of an archer’s sight-hole.
"See for yourself. He's constructed some contraptions that are big enough to hurl those flaming spears over our walls, but far enough away so that our bowmen cannae get at the men firing them." He glowered at Ian as if somehow he had a hand in it.
"Can we put the fires out?"
"Oh aye, we can do that. They're using a resin-pitch that is hard to extinguish though, and those spears are much bigger than normal arrows. If one of them lodges in one o'the thatched roofs and not the grass of the field, we'll have a fine mess puttin' it out."
Ian angled himself so that he could look out to where Lord Brescom's army stood. The bare area in front of the castle walls extended less than a mile until it met a thin line of woods, the nether end of the great forest that cloaked the surrounding mountains. Just out of bow-range, three catapult devices had been set up with a small fire behind them, which was being used by those men loading the catapult to ignite their projectiles. A few yards distant from the main scene of activity a pennon flying the black tower on its blue chevron marked the position of the enemy commander. As Ian watched, fascinated, he saw two men rise and carry a spear the length of a man over to where the fire burned. A quick blaze and the kindled spear was hurried to its place on the catapult. With the severing of a rope, the machine lurched forward and the flaming missile was launched over the castle wall. Ian drew back and faced Griswold. "How can we stop it?" he asked tersely.
"I don't know. It's too far away to pick off those using it with our arrows, and we don't have anything with which to retaliate. If we try to rush out and overwhelm them, there are half-a-hundred men mounted and waitin' to chase us back. It's not a very pretty picture."
Both Griswold and Alaric stood staring pointedly at him. Uneasily, Ian realized that they were looking to him, as lord of the castle, to find a solution. Another of the flaming spears shot overhead, this one landing close to the stables. Several horses whinnied in alarm before it was drenched with water. Besides the damage these weapons could do, they were distracting the defenders on the walls, and if it went on much longer, morale would be shaken as well. The idea that finally presented itself to him was unlikely, but it was all that he could come up with given the circumstances.
"Stay here and do what you can," he tersely ordered. "I've thought of something, but I need to check it out." With that cryptic reassurance, Ian left the outer wall and headed back to the main castle.
Ignoring the barrage of questions that met him when he entered the main hall of the castle, he peered around the large, crowded room until he saw Edwinna's distinctive headdress bobbing over something that he could not see on a table. Being the senior noble in a castle was a distinct advantage as people broke and formed a path for him to make his way across the room. Edwinna looked up from the box of pears that she was examining with a harried look.
"Lady Angharad? Yes, she should be somewhere about..." Vaguely the older woman gazed around as if to conjure her out of the air. "Possibly she is still in one of the pantries. We're checking to make sure none of the fruit from Rinyon Manor has started to rot; someone thought that they saw a batch going bad." She resumed her inspection and Ian strode purposely off towards the kitchens.
Coming through a doorway he almost tripped over Angharad, who was coming out followed by two girls carrying large wooden boxes filled with green pears. Angharad stepped back a pace, saw who it was and welcomed him with a shy smile. The two servants were sent along into the hall, as Angharad followed him to a quiet corner and wiped her hands on the capacious apron she wore.
He related the situation as succinctly as possible and was gratified by her immediate comprehension. "You think that there may be an arcane method to stop them?" Her blue-violet eyes were thoughtful and her teeth caught at her lower lip as she considered the problem.
"That is what I am asking. Griswold has no solutions, so he turned to me. Since there doesn't seem to be much that conventional means can do, I thought that there might be an unconventional way to stop the attacks." One thin, dark eyebrow cocked in inquiry.
"Well...I don't know, but..." She stopped again to think. Her face expressed the reaching of a decision, and when she spoke again there was excitement in her voice. "You know that all of the House Gifts are keyed to elements," she began. "Creon is keyed to air or wind. What if I could bring a wind to blow the spears back at Brescom's army?" Her small, fine-boned face regarded him earnestly.
"You think that you could do this?" His face sparked and reflected her excitement.
"I can try," she shrugged her shoulders philosophically. Now that she had made the commitment, she teetered between apprehension and confidence. She had spent many hours since her talk with Ian in the study, considering the hastily made assertion that she could make use of the House Gift of Creon. Eventually she concluded that the House Gift lying dormant within her could be tapped into, but she was still uncertain about how to call it forth or exactly what its effects would be. She had never seen her own father use his powers, but she had heard him speak of them to Owen when neither knew that she was near.
Taking her hand, Ian guided her hastily through the main hall and out of the castle's keep. As they passed through the castle gates and onto the great field, Angharad saw one of the flaming missiles coming over the wall. To their right, one of the barns had caught fire and as they crossed the field the cattle that had been housed there bellowed and ran about the field while men fought to keep the blaze from spreading. Little attention could be spared for the young man and woman dodging missiles as they made their way to the main gate towers. Still moving hand in hand, Ian led Angharad up the stone steps to where Griswold continued to wait, pronouncing imprecations on Brescom's head.
The old warrior turned and furrowed his brow in astonishment when he saw Angharad clutching at Ian's arm for balance and panting from the exertion of climbing the many stairs. A bit bewildered herself in this strange environment, his welcoming words set her little more at ease. "Tis glad I am to see your ladyship, but I don't quite understand the reason for your being here with the danger as great as it is." He looked to Ian for an explanation.
Ian caught his breath enough for speech. "Lady Angharad has the House Gift of Creon, or thinks that she does," he favoured her with a slightly doubtful look. "Anyway, I thought that since nothing else was being done, we could see if she might work something to our advantage."
Angharad expected almost any reaction to the one she received. "What luck! Come forward then, your ladyship, and have a look." Griswold's look of concern dropped and was replaced by one he might give to any soldier whose talents he recognized and appreciated. It was disconcerting for her to be taken seriously so quickly.
She came forward and Griswold stepped aside so that she might see what it was they faced. Peering gingerly over the stonework, she got her first glimpse of military men engaged in acts of war. She found it very intimidating. Ignoring the coil of fear that settled in her stomac
h, she carefully studied the machines and methods being used to launch the deadly missiles before stepping back and confronting the two men.
"Well?" they asked simultaneously, matched expressions of expectancy on their faces.
She drew a deep breath. "I think I know what has to be done. I will need a safe place to stand, yet one where I can still see the machines."
With a curt nod, Griswold led them up another two flights of stairs until they stood on the roof of the guard tower. A parapet ringed them and made viewing them from the ground difficult, but they had a bird's-eye view of the enemy below. Griswold handed Ian an extra shield that he had pulled off the wall on the way up, and they moved forward in order to protect her should a missile or arrow be loosed at her.
Closing her eyes, to center herself and block out visual distractions, Angharad sent her mind roving to find that one harmony that she knew beyond all doubt was the key to the House Gift. She almost felt that it drew her mind to it, so abruptly did it take hold of her. It was like opening a door, or portal, on something so incredible that it could not be comprehended. One minute she was Angharad d'Aurilac standing on the gate tower of Castle Lir, and the next there was a mind-reeling black void with the howl of a violent wind rushing through her ears. For several panic driven moments all of Angharad's will was channeled into trying to control this force that whirled about her, blotting out everything else. Slowly she fought her way out of the maelstrom until she stood in the light once more, and could see the real world around her.
Against the parapet, Griswold and Ian crouched, their shields gone, desperately clinging to the stones to keep from being blown off the roof. In her mind, Angharad willed the wind to rise and aimed its power at the enemy's machines. A portion of her rose up with the wind, making it difficult to concentrate. It was as if the fabric of her own mind was being blown apart by the force of the gale; only an exercise of will kept her whole. Labouriously, she extricated her mind from the wind and, bade the wind to turn its power towards Lord Brescom's army and his machines. Instantly the blast, now under nominal direction, tore at the machines, knocking them over and scattering the men in its path as if they were of no more substance than a drift of dry leaves. The fire they had used to ignite their missiles, leaped up and was blown out of existence. Men clung to trees and rocks as the wind picked up dirt and debris and pelted them with it. The wind grew stronger and Angharad realized that she was rapidly loosing her control. Gathering together every scrap of willpower and self-command that she possessed, she bent her mind towards closing the portal, halting the flow of power and sending the loosed storm high and far into the sky to vent its wrath and fade.
The scene that now confronted her of the enemy camp was one of disorder and confusion. The men that could, walked dazedly about and stared at their machines, now broken into useless bits of wood and iron. Those officers who recovered first ran shouting orders to the men, sending them back to their camps. Carrying the dead and wounded, the stunned soldiers complied. Lastly, the earl, who had managed not to be thrown from his horse in the furor, kicked the animal, and with a parting, baleful look, turned his back on the castle.
Angharad reeled with exhilaration and fatigue. Her mind seemed to be moving at twice its normal speed, but her body trembled and shook so that she needed to sit down or she would fall. Dimly she was aware of Ian and Griswold kneeling on either side of her, asking questions that she could not quite understand. Ian began to chafe her wrists, while Griswold called unintelligibly down the stairs. In a moment a soldier appeared carrying a wooden drinking cup which was brought to her lips. After several gulps of the fiery liquid, Angharad hiccoughed and looked at them with sensible eyes. She allowed herself to be helped to her feet and escorted down the stairs to a room within the gate-house where she sat and regained her composure.
"Ye did it! Ye did it!" Griswold crowed exuberantly, as he stalked the room. "Brescom was forced to slink away with his tail a'tween his legs. He'll be thinkin' two or three times a'fore he launches another such attack."
The room had filled with more men, officers and plain men-at-arms, come to question and congratulate. In the midst of them, Ian stood with calm detachment. She caught his eye and he smiled at her, but she felt that his lack of enthusiasm was more than just a reserved nature. When the excitement wore down, Ian asked Angharad if she would like to return to the castle keep with him.
Together in the long shadows of late afternoon, as they strolled, side-by-side, back across the green sward of the field, Ian gave voice to what was nagging at him. "How much control did you have up there?"
Stung by what she perceived as criticism, she replied shortly. "Enough to get the job done!"
"That is not what I asked," he said patiently. "You were more than efficient in dealing with the threat, but what I want to know is, how much of the power were you controlling and how much of it was controlling you?"
"I'd never tried it before!" She growled defensively. "I told you that I knew that I had the potential and that I thought I knew of a way to use it. I never said that I was an arcane adept!"
Beyond the bristling temper of pride and discomfiture, Ian saw fatigue in her pale face and bruised eyes. Schooling himself to wait until a more propitious time, he soothed her with the assurance of his gratitude and his respect for her ability. Mollified but still touchy, Angharad bid him good-bye in a brittle voice once they were within the confines of the castle keep. Wearily she dragged her feet in the direction of her rooms.
A hungry Ian wandered off in search of supper and to tell Alaric what had occurred outside of the castle walls that afternoon. Alaric was alarmed by the description of the violence wreaked by the arcane winds and, while he applauded the halt put to Brescom's offensive, he voiced Ian's fears that such a power out of control could easily harm them as well.
"Did you ever see your cousin, the late duchess, use her powers?" Alaric finally asked with great diffidence. He, more than anyone else within the castle, knew of Ian's great love and friendship for his cousin and the pain that her death had brought him. Because of this sensibility he usually avoided the subject of the late duchess whenever possible.
"No," Ian's reply was subdued, "but I know that she had some sort of arcane training from her mother. Lady Angharad has admitted that she has had no arcane training at all. That might explain why she seemed to lose control. Perhaps now that she has actually used the House Gift, she will be better equipt to handle it next time."
"Perhaps." Alaric agreed more to reassure both himself and Ian than because he was convinced.
Dinner was waiting to be served in the main hall and, washing his hands in the basin of water that Evan brought to him, Ian looked around for Angharad. Told that her ladyship had requested a tray in her rooms, Ian was surprised at the disappointment he felt. After he had eaten, Ian retired to his own rooms for solitude and rest. Kathryn, however, was there before him and in an amorous mood. She had seen the healing of the breach between Ian and Angharad and it pleased her not at all. Whilst she held the unofficial position of the duke regent's mistress she held a corresponding amount of power over certain other people in the castle. If she was to be deprived of that position, she feared that her loss of status would be irredeemable and those over whom she now lorded would be the ones wielding power over her. Thus, she tried to spend as many nights as she could in Ian's bed and use what wiles she possessed to secure him. In this she had only been partially successful. He did not openly object to her being in his bed, but paid scant attention to her when she was there.
This evening, dressed in very little, she was trying in a very determined fashion to engage his interest. He put her off at first, saying he had some documents to read, but she continued to persist until he undressed and joined her in bed, more to have her be quiet then because of any desire on his side. The result was mutually unfulfilling but at least it gave him an excuse to feign sleep.
Much later that night Ian woke, hearing Evan in conversation with a female voice
in the room adjacent to his bedroom. Feeling Kathryn's body beside him and hearing the regularity of her breathing, Ian slipped out of bed, threw a mantle about himself and went to investigate. The lamplight was dim and both Evan and his late night visitor jumped when Ian opened the door.
"Oh, my lord, I was just coming to get you." Evan, in his rumpled nightshirt with his hair falling into his eyes, had evidently just been awakened. "Lady Moira here has come from the Lady Angharad's rooms."
Ian saw a neat, plump figure come forward and curtsey to him. "I beg your lordship's pardon but it's about her ladyship that I've come." She sounded nervous, as if she was not certain that it was here that she ought to be.
"What is wrong with Lady Angharad?" Ian asked, disconcerted. None of Angharad's women had ever come from their mistress to him before, and certainly never at such an hour.
"We were put in such a fright that we didn't know what to do," the woman exclaimed as she worried her hands together at her waist. "Her ladyship came to her rooms early this evening saying that she was too tired to eat and was going straight to bed. We saw that she was tucked in and she fell asleep almost at once. She didn't sleep soundly though, and a short time ago she woke the girl who sleeps in the anteroom with her thrashing and moaning. She didn't wake up when we went in to see what the matter was. She's never been like this and we didn't know what to do. Dame Edwinna wasn't in her room when we went to ask her what to do, and we thought that someone ought to be told. Anyway, since you are her husband and all..." The woman's embarrassment overcame her and her words trailed off as she lowered her eyes to the floor.
Taking little notice of the woman’s discomfort, Ian lit a candle and returned to his own room for more adequate attire, and ordered Evan to go and rouse the castle's healer and meet him in her ladyship's rooms.
As he was struggling into his hose and a shirt, Kathryn sleepily raised her head, inquiring what it was he was doing. "I'm putting some clothes on so that I can walk the castle halls without freezing to death. Angharad is ill. I'll be back when I'm ready." With this curt reply he slipped on a pair of low, soft leather boots and left the room. Sulkily, Kathryn pulled the covers over her head.
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