Artesans of Albia

by Cas Peace

  Once Deshan learned what had happened, he abandoned his examination of Marik, gathered his healers, and went to tend the injured. He left strict instructions for Sullyan to stay there and rest, but she ignored him. She made her way back to Anjer’s chambers, this time knocking politely on the door.

  Torien opened it, her face blotchy and streaked with tears. She ushered Sullyan into the room. “Oh, Brynne, he’s no better.”

  “He will not be, Torien, not yet,” she soothed. “I had to shut him away inside himself for protection. Come, sit with him and take his hand. Let us see if we can wake him. Poor man, he will have a fearsome headache for days.”

  The young woman anxiously followed Sullyan into the bedchamber and sat on the bed beside her husband, looking tiny and frail beside his massive frame. Sullyan sat on his other side, placing her hands on his temples. Probing deeply into Anjer’s mind, she let loose the bonds of his psyche and reached down to his consciousness. She could sense he was holding memories of the sudden, searing pain and was unwilling to surface. Sullyan coaxed and led and, eventually, he opened his eyes.

  Torien immediately covered his face with kisses. “Oh, my love!”

  Anjer looked bemused, then startled when he realized Sullyan was sitting next to him. She smiled faintly as she saw him glance down, relieved to find the bedclothes in place.

  “You will be well,” she told him gently. “Sleep now. Let me help you. When you wake, you will have nothing more than a sore head. Do you understand?”

  He gave a slight nod, and she turned to Torien. “Lady Torien, he needs to rest. You can stay by him, but let him sleep.”

  Anjer’s tiny wife moved away as Sullyan effortlessly sent Anjer into a deep and healing sleep. She stood up to leave but then, struck by a thought, said, “Lady Torien, might I ask you a personal question?”

  Torien nodded hesitantly.

  “I do not mean to pry, but I confess I was surprised to learn that Anjer is preventing you from conceiving. Why is that? Do you not want children?”

  Torien flushed in embarrassment and wrung her hands. “Anjer says I’m too small.”

  “To bear his child?”

  Torien nodded unhappily.

  “But you both want children?”

  “Oh, yes, Lady Brynne! I want to give him a son more than anything. I told him we weren’t suited when we wed, but we were so much in love. We still are, but now I feel I’m letting him down. And he’s not getting any younger, and I’m so afraid that he …” Blushing brightly, she trailed off.

  Sullyan gave an indelicate snort. “You need have no fear for your husband’s capabilities, Torien. He will remain lusty for many years yet.”

  The young woman flushed even deeper and looked away. Sullyan smiled. “Forgive me for being so forthright, but I have lived among men my whole life. Such things hold no embarrassment for me. Let me assure you, it would be perfectly safe for you to bear the Lord General a child. It would likely be a robust child, especially if it was male, but it should not be too much for you. Deshan could have confirmed this for you had you asked. My advice would be for you and Anjer to pick up where you left off, this time without the restrictions. Tell him so when he wakes, Torien. It might just take the edge off his headache!”

  She left, an image of Torien’s flaming face and blissfully happy smile in her mind. It gladdened her to think that someone in this Citadel would find happiness today.

  She returned to Bull and Taran, who had both taken Marik’s old suite across the passage. When Sullyan entered, Rienne was mixing a concoction of willow extract. The healer glanced up as Sullyan appeared, took one look at her, and wordlessly handed her the cup. Sullyan took it and regarded the mixture dubiously. She knew how bad it would taste.

  “Go on,” growled Bull from where he sat propped and pale among the pillows. “We’ve all had to. Why should you be different?”

  Knowing he was right, she swallowed the cup’s contents in one go. The flavor caused her to glance in startlement at Rienne. The healer and the two men burst out laughing, although Taran groaned afterwards.

  “You should see your face!” said Rienne.

  Sullyan grinned ruefully. “At last someone has found a decent use for that firewater you love so much, Bull. I have never heard of medicine tasting pleasant. Rienne, you must give Deshan the idea. Most of his potions taste foul.”

  She sat on Taran’s bed while the willow took effect, her metasenses helping it through her system. As she waited, she explained what she thought must have happened. She was unable to hide her fear for Robin, which prompted Bull to ask, “Do you have any idea who was using the Staff at the time?”

  She shook her head, and then wished she had not. The pain was abating, but she was still very sore. “It was not Robin, that is all I can say. Bull, I hesitate to ask this—your head must be as tender as mine—but can you sense him at all? Anyone who was in close proximity to that blast must surely have been injured, at the very least. And if it occurred within a substrate structure …” She trailed off, too appalled to say it.

  She watched as Bull gathered his wits and tried a tentative call to Robin. He shook his head; no response. Breathing heavily, he tried again while Sullyan absently massaged her aching left hand.

  After a few minutes, he grimaced. “No, there’s nothing. Wait! Was that a glimpse of his pattern?”

  He closed his eyes to aid concentration. Sullyan held her breath.

  Bull’s urgency showed on his face as he stretched himself to the limit. “It’s gone. Maybe I imagined … No! I’ve got it. He’s there. But he’s not conscious. And I can’t tell if he’s damaged or not.”

  Relieved, Sullyan nodded. At least he was still alive.

  Rienne fidgeted in her chair. “Bull? Any trace of Cal?”

  “Oh, dear heart, forgive me! I should have thought. Let me just …” After a few more minutes, he smiled. “Yes, Rienne, I can sense him. He’s unconscious too, though. Sully, what the Void has happened?”

  But Sullyan could only speculate. She hated feeling so intensely helpless.

  + + + + +

  Only three people in the entire village of Hyecombe were undamaged by the implosion of Heron’s tunnel. One of them was the man responsible for the catastrophe, and he was in no state to worry about it.

  Following his calamitous expenditure of power, Cal had once again lapsed into unconsciousness. He was totally unaware of the devastation he had caused. The tiny portion of his mind that had retained the ability to reason had been surprised by the depth of power he had managed to call up. Had he been lucid at the time, he would have realized it wasn’t his own. However, as well as dampening his pain and protecting his mind, the intense rush of metaforce had put him to sleep, so Cal was blissfully unaware of the destruction around him.

  The twin giants, Almid and Kester, were protected by their proximity to Cal. They had ducked to the floor when the windows blew in and were showered with glass and rubble, but due to Cal’s instinctive blanket shield they were otherwise unharmed.

  After shaking dust and debris from their backs and releasing Cal from the rest of the ropes binding him, they lifted him carefully from the chair and carried him into Taran’s sleeping room. Almid cleared glass shards from the bed and Kester laid Cal down. Then they went outside to look at the carnage. It was not quite daylight, but they could see that the street containing Taran’s house was not as damaged as the main street. Sonten’s wall of rubble had collapsed, and all the houses had broken windows, but only one of the buildings had come down.

  The main street was another matter. Those houses directly in the path of the blast had been completely destroyed, and all the rest had lost doors, windows, and most of their roofs. There was dust, rubble, glass, and splintered wood everywhere. A gritty, musty smell hung in the air. There were also bodies, some lying still, some twitching or staggering to their feet. There was the sound of groaning, coughing, and spluttering. Some of the bodies were buried or half-buried by fallen masonry.
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br />   With unspoken agreement, Kester returned to the cottage to watch over Cal while Almid searched for Ky-shan.

  Frowning in confusion, Almid picked his way toward what looked like a large crater in the ground. This marked the center of the blast, and there were dead horses and dead men inside it. All of the men were Andaryans, but none of them were seamen.

  Almid turned away. Walking gingerly up the street toward the tavern, he suddenly heard a shout. Looking up quickly, he saw a crowd of villagers and half a dozen soldiers coming down the street toward him. As they came closer, he recognized Captain Parren at their head. The man was grinning savagely.

  Baring his teeth, Almid reached for his sword.

  + + + + +

  Parren could hardly believe his luck. He, along with some fifty of his men and a handful of villagers, were inside the tavern at the time of the blast. Though they had all been blown to the floor, they had all suffered only temporary deafness and pain. Ears still ringing, Parren had led them outside and saw that things could have been much, much worse. He smiled at the thought. With any luck, the troublesome Robin Tamsen had been caught by the blast and might already be dead. And if he wasn’t, then who was to say that the hole in his hide—the one Parren intended to give him—had not come from an enemy blade? There would be no witnesses to gainsay Parren’s account.

  Striding down the street with the bewildered villagers and some of his men at his back, Parren was intent on searching for his quarry. Then one of his men shouted, pointing at a huge demon walking brazenly through the rubble. Parren waved them on and they ran forward to intercept the giant. The demon made ready to defend himself, unsure of their intentions.

  That was enough for Parren. He recognized the man as one of Robin’s party and remembered that the giant was mute. Here was his chance to be seen taking a prisoner, one he could claim was an invader, and he fully intended to round up any surviving demons and put them to the sword in front of the villagers. With Robin dead and Baily denounced as being responsible for botching the plan in the first place, Parren would be hailed as Hyecombe’s savior. He had already ensured, by the simple expedient of being first into the inn, that the villagers saw him as such.

  He congratulated himself on having done the right thing in forcing Robin to take the brunt of the fighting while he, Parren, convinced the villagers that he was in sole command of those responsible for ending the siege. Now was his chance to cement that belief.

  He called orders to his men as they advanced on the giant.

  + + + + +

  Robin lay half-covered by fallen debris and a dead body. He felt stiff and bruised but could feel all his limbs and didn’t think he had any broken bones. The blast had stunned him, but he was largely unhurt. He had realized what was happening in the vicinity of the tunnel and had sensed the struggle for control going on within it. Deciding it might be prudent to shield, he had protected himself just in time, so fortunately his mind was undamaged. But he had been close to the site of the blast and was knocked off his feet by its force, as was everyone else around him. He thought he had seen Ky-shan and some of the seamen fleeing from the tunnel mouth before the whole thing shattered, but it had happened so fast. He didn’t know if they had escaped alive.

  Opening gritty eyes, Robin gazed at the rubble all around him. There was a dead man pinning his legs, and the Andaryan was a horrific sight. Blood had streamed from his eyes, ears, and nose, and his face was contorted in a frozen scream. Repulsed, Robin sat up and heaved the body from him. A startled curse sounded close by and he stared up, straight into the furious eyes of Captain Parren.

  Struggling to his feet, Robin was suddenly aware of Almid behind him, sword at the ready. His immediate thought was that Almid was protecting him, but Robin soon saw that the giant was more concerned for his own safety. He stared in astonishment at the obvious animosity between Parren, his men, and Almid, unable to believe that even the vicious Parren would attack an ally. Then he registered Parren’s fresh appearance and realized that the man had slyly avoided the worst of the fighting. This made him angry.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Parren?” he demanded, dust clogging his throat and making him cough. “Back off, this man’s a friend!”

  “So you say,” snarled Parren. “I say he’s a demon, one of the invaders. The good people of this village want rid of these outlanders and I intend to oblige them. Stand aside.”

  Robin glared at Parren and at the swordsmen with him, one or two of whom looked confused. No one could fail to recognize Almid, even if they couldn’t tell the twins apart. They had all seen them with Robin before the attack and knew them to be allies. Yet Parren’s authority couldn’t be denied and his men were bound to obey him. The villagers had no idea that some of the demons had come here to help them—Robin would have wagered a year’s pay on Parren concealing that fact—and were urging the swordsmen on, baying noisily for Almid’s blood.

  Drawing his sword, Robin went to stand beside Almid. He faced Parren. “Back off,” he commanded, his voice stronger. “I’m telling you, this man is on our side and we’ll need his strength if we’re going to sort this mess out. We should be tending to our people, Parren, not fighting our friends.”

  Parren spat in the dirt. “Your friends, Tamsen. You seem to have defected to the other side. What are you doing in the company of demons, anyway? Look what they’ve done to this place!”

  Robin knew what Parren was trying to do. He and Almid were alone against Parren’s trained swordsmen and a crowd of frightened villagers. This could get ugly. Casting about for recognizable faces, he suddenly caught sight of Paulus emerging from the tavern. The businessman had probably been counting the cost of the damage to his livelihood, and his expression said he didn’t like what he saw. But he came up the street at Robin’s call, looking bemused by the standoff.

  “Captain Tamsen,” he exclaimed when he finally recognized Robin. “I had no idea you were here. What’s going on?”

  The young man breathed a sigh of relief. As both Elder and tavern-keeper, Paulus was well respected by the villagers and Robin knew they would listen to him. At his very appearance their raucous shouts died down.

  “Paulus, thank the gods! Listen, I want you to tell everyone that not all of the Andaryans here are invaders. Some of them came here with me to help relieve you. You wouldn’t want to see them mistaken for enemies and killed, would you?”

  Paulus frowned at Parren and Almid before looking back at Robin. “No, of course not. But how will we know which are which?”

  “Almid here can identify them. He might not be able to talk, but you can trust him. I don’t have time for this. I have to find Cal. I need to know what happened to the rest of the men who came here with me, and I need to know what became of the invaders’ leader. Would you and some of the villagers help Almid search for survivors?”

  Receiving Paulus’s dubious nod, Robin turned to the giant. “Almid, is Cal alright?”

  The giant’s eyes were still fixed on Parren’s dangerously flushed face, but he nodded, giving Robin a brief account of what had occurred in Taran’s house. Robin didn’t hear Almid as clearly as Sullyan could, but he got the gist of it. Paulus, reassured by Robin’s manner, began calming the villagers, telling them not to fear Almid or any demons he indicated were friends.

  Parren, clearly realizing his moment had passed, tossed a venomous look at Robin. “This isn’t over, Tamsen. You put your own desires before the safety of the villagers, and I intend to see that the General hears of it. You left me to ensure their well-being and we could all have been killed. Blaine won’t be too happy when he hears of your conduct.”

  Robin’s mouth dropped open. The threat of denouncement didn’t bother him—Blaine knew exactly what he had come here for. But the villagers just might back Parren, as he had undoubtedly helped them escape their jailors and events could easily be twisted with a few well-chosen words. However, Robin had other things on his mind right now. More men were gaining their f
eet, friend and foe alike, and he could hear the sounds of renewed fighting coming from the other street.

  “Drop it, Parren,” he snapped. “Now is not the time. Our men need help and direction. We need to know where Baily is, and I must find Cal. I suggest you gather your men and do your job.”

  Leaving Almid with Paulus, Robin let Parren deal with the recovering people in the main street. He made for Taran’s house, where he found Kester awaiting him, his huge sword in his beefy hands. Leaving the giant by the door, Robin found Cal still blissfully unconscious on the bed, looking as pale as someone with such dark skin could. Checking him over, Robin was relieved to find no damage other than the physical. He re-emerged from the house to see Baily and about thirty of his command desperately fighting the remnants of the demon forces farther up the street. Calling Kester, he rushed to help.

  Although the Andaryans were fighting, they were thoroughly demoralized, as much by the desertion of their lord and commander as by the effects of the explosion. Their hearts were not in their resistance and they were flagging. Baily’s men, still smarting from having the tables of ambush turned upon them earlier, were using their anger to good effect. Their foes were all but subdued by the time Robin and Kester added their swords.

  Seeing this, Baily roared for the Andaryans to surrender their arms. With one or two exceptions, they did so, morosely allowing themselves to be herded into an outbuilding at the far end of the street. It had but two windows and one door, and was easily guarded by half a dozen men. A panting but triumphant Baily accepted Robin’s praise before the two captains ran back to the main street.

  The fighting here was sporadic. Most of the demons not already put to the sword had been herded into buildings. Only a few individuals were left to resist. As Robin and Baily watched, the last of these surrendered and half a dozen Manor swordsmen manhandled them into temporary prisons. It was then that Robin realized there was no sign of Parren or the bulk of his men. He frowned.