The next few days were some of the most wonderful Tor had ever experienced. Nita, as he'd taken to calling her, met with him each evening and they did things. Fun things. Like flying along the coast and having a picnic on a beach, the wind whipping past them and blowing sand everywhere. Or walking through the market place in the city, where smiling people kept offering them free things for some reason. The late nights were fun too. Each morning after the first, he woke to find Bonita's arm over him protectively, as if he were going to suddenly disappear on her if she wasn't careful.
It was different during the day, they ate with the Wards most of the time and Trice kept giving him looks that indicated his death might just be imminent, but it seemed a little over the top to him. Even if she was really angry at him for “spurning her affections”, which was kind of what she hinted to everyone that would listen, she wouldn't have acted like that.
She might have punched him when he wasn't looking, but she wouldn't… sulk. Not like she pretended to. Worse, she insisted on following him and Smythe around like a puppy, making sure she was at each questioning and glaring when he wasn't looking. He could feel her doing it.
Her field said the anger wasn't real at all at least, and even that she was mildly bored by it all, but that didn't cause her to let go of the plan. She had orders it seemed. From the King.
It explained it, sort of. Tor needed to get with the man and discuss the situation, didn’t he? It really was pretty much wasted effort at the moment. Plus annoying.
Smythe was far more professional, and didn't even act like Tor should be put to death at the moment, choosing perhaps to wait for the investigation to finish? Really, the old, but huge, military Counselor assured him several times, his part, Tor's, was finished and he could go back to the Capital or even stay with his new friend when Smythe moved to the next location to hunt for spies and assassins.
“The King wanted you to be here in case a war had to be stopped, clearly. A full force of men would simply aggravate things, so he sent a single man in their place, in case it was a trap. He has great faith in you, I hope you understand that? It would be a shame if you let him down. That's not the point however. Your time is better spent doing what you do. Building and, one hopes, continuing your humanitarian efforts. Also… you're a young man. This kind of thing… It doesn't serve to put youth in the way of ferreting out spy's and assassins. It hurts the soul too much, too soon. Enjoy your youth while you can. You'll have an entire lifetime to be old.” He smiled warmly and as far as Tor could tell, it was a real thing and the words heartfelt. It made him pause for a bit before speaking.
“Sound advice, and trust me, I'd love to take it. Work on my little projects, grab Nita and maybe a few other girls if I could manage it and go to the Capital, spend my time making friends for once and going to parties where people will at least pretend to like me, desperately trying to wheedle things out of me that I'd just give them if they asked, or even just hinted at wanting, within reason. But I can't do that, can I? We're at war and the King put me with you to learn. What the lesson is I don't know. Probably professionalism when a task is at hand. But regardless, I can't leave your side until told too can I?” Tor grinned.
“Plus, honestly, with all the spies around me anyway, learning to tell who's working for whom is a valuable skill. Besides, I guess if I need killing, I might as well be you adjacent. But for god’s sake, make sure I really need it, will you? Could — might — be — a — problem — eventually is a dumb reason to kill a friend you know.”
That got a somber nod, but no comment since the next set of interviews was beginning. Tradesmen, merchants and barkeeps, serving girls and whores were all questioned. Nothing much turned up on Laval at all. The truth devices sped things up a lot and cut out something like ten repetitions of the same question, so they'd be finished in a few days, Smythe told him, instead of the months it might normally take. Then it would be on to Printer, Thorgood and so on.
“And Lairdgren School of course. We know that one of the Larvals was there at least. I can interview you here, and Captain Wensa wherever Prince Alphonse is, but we need to be thorough, who knows what some student saw or who the man's contacts were. Of course in a few days we have to be in the Capital anyway. King's week. All sitting nobles and Counselors have to attend, especially now, with a war on. Stupid rule, but if you don't keep a firm hand with nobles they end up thinking they're as fit to rule as the King. Some are, some aren't, but what I've noticed is that the ones that would make the poorest leaders always seem to think they deserve the position most.”
Tor got out a piece of paper and wrote that last bit down, making Smythe chuckle. Well, sound advice could come from anywhere. He added the bit about being young while he could so he wouldn't forget later. That was the kind of thing he could lose track of pretty easily, he knew.
It meant he had a week to come up with a present for the King. He wondered if they'd let him in to the party, or turn him from the gates again this year, but finally decided to let that go. He'd just plan to skip it and have a party with his friends and send presents along with Count Thomson again or something. Maybe Rolph would hand them off. That just left finding out what the man wanted. He pretty much got whatever he desired. Except a break…
That… It would be hard to do, with a war on, but they had communication devices in case of emergency now and Rolph, Prince Alphonse, was the heir, in the loop already, even in on the secrets, and kind of should have the practice when there was time. All it would come down to would be protecting the King and Queen and selecting a place no one would ever think to look for them. Isolated and externally bland looking? The beach house at County Ford? No, that was a known property. But the idea was good. Count Ford had said that if he ever needed anything, he should just ask, right? Plus they could go in on that present together. It would have to be a secret, so he'd need a real gift too and a public spectacle so that people didn't think he was mad at the King. It was the problem with coming up with good presents a few times for the royals. From that point on he had to have something just as good or everyone would think he didn't care to be bothered.
He should have stuck to napkin rings and pots of preserves.
Well, too late for that now.
Those he could do, with a bit of work. He started that night, after Nita fell asleep, working until morning. Not much sleep, but Tor wasn't going to let his friend be alone if he could help it, since she seemed lonely at times still. Sometimes he wouldn't be able to be with her, and hopefully she'd understand that, but for now he just pushed himself into the deepest dark within and worked there, barely understanding things in words anymore, just ideas. If anyone asked him what he done exactly he'd have to point to the things he made and shrug. It was just too different to talk about easily.
He built and worked, carefully and deeply, for two more days before things suddenly went sideways on him.
It had to happen, something like it at least, he realized as Nita sat across from him at the small round table they ate at, staring at her plate of brightly colored bits of food. She hadn't eaten much, just picking at things listlessly for a while. Finally, as the music started and drinks began to flow, she spoke, her voice sad and a little scared sounding. Worried maybe?
“Um, Tor? I was thinking and, well…” Her face buried behind her long dark blond hair she whispered. He could just make out what she said.
“Did… Did Maria get you to do this? Is she paying you to spend time with me?”
He blinked. What? At first the words didn't even make sense to him. Pay him?
“Sorry… I… why would she do that? I mean, no, but why? And really, I don't need gold, what would she be paying me in?” Land came to mind as a bribe, but he didn't say it out loud, because Nita was a little down on herself still. No need to throw fuel on that fire, he decided instantly.
That she'd gotten five days in before doubting herself this much, this openly, was amazing really. Tor didn't let anything show for a second. Denials wouldn't work, he knew that. He'd been in similar places in life and saying he loved her simply wasn't proof. Reaching under the top of his tunic, a simple light-tan looking thing he'd made up that morning, with a red sash and white canvas pants and black boots. It kind of fit in with what people wore here during the day, without aping them exactly.
Real people, not royals.
Finding the truth amulet he carried all the time any more, he tapped firmly and it started glowing in gold and cream, the gold making two broad stripes down the nimbus around him.
“You've seen this before right? Goes black if I lie or say something that isn't true, even if I don't know it when the words come out? As long as it's in my head at least. So, no, Maria did not, at any time suggest I date you, spend time with you or anything of that nature, except mentioning you weren't married, which I took to be implied match making, didn't you? Kind of nice of her given that she and I aren't all that close.” The glow stayed steady and she ducked her head but asked more questions while she had him like this. An odd type of shyness that she had…
“Are you… sleeping with her? My sister?” She glanced at him looking almost afraid.
“I've never slept with your sister.”
This caused the whole field to go a deep black, which made Nita cringe and the few people around them listening openly lean in suddenly, since things had obviously gotten interesting. Sorlee even shifted seats to move closer. Tor held up his hand and grinned, embarrassed.
“Sorry, I misspoke, that can happen. Um… I should have said… I've never slept with Maria.” This time the field did what it was supposed to do at least. Gah. Pesky truth. Still, it showed the whole thing worked and that he didn't have a special device that let him lie. He could do that, but who would? If he didn't want people to know something he just wouldn't say it.
“Which one…”
“Oh! I didn't mention that did I? It's not a big thing, we're just friends, Collette? She runs the ice manufactory at the Capital. She's living with me actually, but last I saw it the place was nearly the size of the King’s palace or the estate here. It's not like we're having to share a room. Who knows what she has it doing now. Petra Ward is there too. It's not a permanent thing. You know, with King’s week coming we all have to go back. I can put you all up there if you want? It's outside the south gate, but the trip to the palace isn't that bad. I'm going to throw a party of my own this year too, but you can go to the palace if you want, or stay with me for that. Since they're not declaring war right now or getting everyone pregnant anymore we should also invite Maria and Marvin… I guess.”
Tor grimaced and kept going, trying to keep Nita distracted from the fact that he'd slept with her sister. “Though I don't think they should do more than swear fealty several times and grovel a bit this year and probably next. Marvin getting Princess Veronica pregnant is not popular with the royal family right now, as you might imagine. Me either as far as that goes, kind of ruined my engagement to her. The Prince may say some nasty things to Marvin over that, after Alphonse apologizes to Maria. He doesn't know he's doing that yet, but if he doesn't, I'll sneak into his room at night and shave his eyebrows off.”
Funny thing, the field didn't blink at all on that one. Tor hadn't known he felt that strongly on the matter, but it seemed that a certain Prince needed to step the heck up, or he was going to look funny for a long while.
Nita's eyes danced and her mouth opened in way that his body started to respond to on its own. She didn't even question that he'd slept with Collette, probably assuming he would in the future too, thanks to the messed up way nobles ran their relationships. Well, Nita could sleep with who she chose too, so it was fair enough. He didn't feel jealous about that, like he thought he would. Was he adapting to this strange world then? A little?
It was an amazing thing, an almost perfect moment for him. He felt accepted as Nita sat looking at him. Like he was something good, and not a troll at all.
He felt fine. Happy. Complete.
The men attacked hard and fast, hitting him from four sides at once without any warning at all. Nita was in the way of one, who tried to hit her with a blue beam of light, an electric weapon. Tried being the operative word. Her shield hadn't been on, but Tor triggered it before the beam hit, slapping his left hand to her chest before he did anything else at all, pushing her away. The shields locked somehow and… twisted as the force of him hitting her chest tried to flow into the ground. Painfully for him. The impact on her went neatly into the ground, but his hand and arm wrenched around suddenly with a cracking sound that could only be a bone breaking. It wasn't as quiet as Tor figured it would be, the other time he'd broken a bone he'd barely even noticed the sound at all.
He screamed. It hurt and there was no time to kill the pain or even prepare for it. Sometimes you just had to deal, and no trick was going to save you.
“Run away!” He screamed, the chant that Kolb had drummed into him for years, but this time it wasn't about him, the others needed to run. At Queen’s day the seven Larval's had been taken out, but killed over twenty nobles, Royal Guards and warriors first. Most of them combat giants. Most of those killed with nothing more than knives. The brave man Duke Winchester, who'd fought to protect Tor while he stopped the death dust in the air, had died, desperately clinging to the attacker even as his guts slid to the ground. It had been Smythe that had saved him then, Tor was told. He alone had taken out three of the men, using a military grade shield and Not-flyer, ramming them at over sixty miles per hour. Varley had taken one that way too, figuring it out from watching Smythe on the fly. Once they were down others finished the work, but without those two the whole thing would have gone a lot differently.
These people were mainly commoners from in town, unshielded and without training of note at all in fighting. No one walked around armed in Warden. No one but him. Even the guards here only carried little wooden clubs. They’d never needed more.
Not until that day.
No explosions took place this time, thank god. No nanos spread into the air either. Tor backpedaled, the assassins focusing on him alone it seemed so far. Good. They weren't hurting him, broken hand aside. Now if people would just get away he could start fighting in earnest and make this stop. He did trigger his Not-flyer and pulled the weapon he kept at his side all the time now, or at least bedside. He even took it into the shower with him.
It was white stone and glowing multicolored sigils, looking kind of pretty and festive he thought. He had to do it with his left hand, broken or not, but now he could focus a little, which meant that he could manage. It hurt, but he'd dealt with worse. As he got the men to follow him onto the dance floor one tried to blind him with an intense light, like Smythe had. It poured into the ground, running like water, flowing around him in damp looking brilliance towards the only direction that he'd deemed really safe for such things. It was a ruby red cascade, the beam coming in hot and leaving that way, making the grass smoke, but dancing over his skin, a quarter inch away, leaving him untouched.
Pretty.
The men looked identical to Dorgal Sorvee's friend from school and no doubt Maria Ward's lover, Laval. Which all things considered was about as stupid a name as could have been come up with. Laval the Larval? Moronic. The killer, one of them, switched aim and tried for Bonita instead. Obviously they were friends, so killing her would distract him, right?
That made sense. If you were amoral, evil and had no sense of ethical behavior or honor at all. Perfect for a super-killer clone Tor guessed. It had no more effect on her than it had him.
“Nita! Run away! Go. They want me for some reason… Possibly my fashion sense? Since nothing else seems reasonable at all. Everyone go!” Even with a shield on, they'd probably kill him eventually. Like the Royal Guard, they didn't seem to stop, and were both hard to kill and fast. A lot faster than he was, possible faster than was strictly human. Tor was bobbing around at over forty miles an hour and they were side stepping him as if it were a child's game. Apparently they'd noticed how well that technique had worked before, and learned.
Even though they weren't there at the time? However that worked, they didn't let him hit them no matter how hard he tried.
Without saying anything, without a sound that Tor noticed, all four men suddenly turned and sprinted towards the main table, everyone else had fled, except for Countess Ward and the three Larvals with her. For a split second, a time so fast that he nearly missed it, Tor wondered if she was the one attacking them all, in one of those stupidly over complex plans nobles made up, because massive amounts of sex and parties weren't enough to really keep them busy. As a rule, the royals all needed to get some hobbies, or at least useful jobs to kill time. It would be safer all around.
They held her with not one, but two knives to her throat, pointed to take out the veins and arteries on the sides of her neck with a twitch. A sudden move from either of the Larval would kill her. When he stopped and focused on the scene, just as the others surrounded her with their bodies, facing outward. Tor could see her fear.
He could feel it. It poured from her field in powerful waves.
So, it wasn't her plan then? Good. It would have been embarrassing to have helped her just to have it be another mistake.
Pointing the weapon, he waited for them, one of them at least, to speak. Eerily, they spoke as a group. Multiple voices in perfect time. Did they think as one too? Tor reached out to see, and almost passed out from the sickening shock of it. Their minds, their fields, were alien, so different from what he knew that he almost couldn't understand what they were. Then again, he didn't have to, did he?
“Put the weapon down and surrender your life and we'll let your woman go.”
Oh.
Was that all they wanted?
And they thought he was with Maria freaking Ward? Brilliant of them.
Different or not, he knew what they all thought then and said it out loud so everyone else could hear, those not smart enough, or too brave, to get out of there while he and Maria bought them time.
“And then you'll kill us all. Right, we get the idea, you're assassins, it's what you do. No promise of safe passage will win any of us free. It's run or fight and fighting means death without our weapons and shields. Got it. Any other ideas? I won’t throw away lives just to try and save a single person you plan to kill anyway.”
The one with the knife on the young Countess’s delicate neck sliced her enough to make her whimper.
“You.” They almost sang the word. It was creepy. They were creepy.
“We let these others go and kill you. They leave now and our sweet little kitten-flower goes unharmed. If not, we kill her.”
Tilting his head Tor asked something that he'd wondered before. It was mainly to buy time, but that was such an odd phrase, probably Austran he realized. They were, so why not?
“Kitten-flower? What does that even mean anyway? Is it Austran for something?”
“Cunt.” They all said definitively.
Maria winced.
Yeah, it was pretty rude. Her lover had been calling her a cunt the whole time? Eek. Well, that relationship had already ended at least. It would have been worse if she'd still been seeing the guy, right?
“Alright, how about this. You see the glow around me, you know what it means? Or are your spies that bad…” They didn't get he wasn't with their captive after all, he might have to explain a few things.
“Truth.”
“Good. So I'm not lying, you'll see it instantly if I try. Let her go now, let everyone else leave here and I'll meet you in battle. Alone. Just me against all of you.”
“No. Humbling, but your shield and weapons make it too likely you'll defeat us or escape. Meet us without your shield or weapons, with no magic devices to aid you, then we'll agree to your terms. We'll kill you, but your friends will have a chance to escape. Your love here goes free and lives to die another day. Last offer. Take it or we kill her now.” Only one spoke this time, one with a knife to her neck. He sliced her again, missing the veins on her neck, but only just barely.
“Agreed. You have my word. We'll have our little duel here then. Me against you. All of you. No one will interfere if it's a duel. That's the law after all.” The glow stayed steady. From the side Trice yelled at him and Sara whimpered.
“Tor no! They'll kill you…” It came out hoarse and harsh, like she'd been screaming.
If so he hadn't noticed.
“Do you think I don't know that? Everybody dies. One life isn't worth more than many. Ever. No matter who's it is. When they let Maria go, take her and get everyone away as fast and far as you can before they come for you. Trice, promise me, you'll take the shield and weapons I give you and get everyone to safety. Marvin? They're going to hand Maria to you now, collect her please and get her away. I don't disarm until everyone is safe, then I hand the one armed girl my stuff and she flies away, then we fight. Acceptable?”
“That'll do.” The creepoids said in unison, sounding pleasant about the whole thing suddenly. Conversational.
It was the eyes that freaked him out most, that and the killing people thing, but he'd never liked any of the Larvals. Just a personal bias probably. Maria thought their eyes were pretty, hadn't she said that? Maybe it was a girl thing?
Things moved with a sickening slowness. He was buying time, but everyone needed more. Too many people could die if he didn't come up with something. What could he do though? Cutter? He could try, but they'd take him down without regard for their own lives. Tor probably wouldn't get more than one or two strikes in before they got him. If that. He had to hit them all at once…
Explosive?
One with him in the center.
He'd die, but so would they. Maybe. They were strong. But even if only hurt, it might be worth it. It could slow them down enough for everyone to flee at least and give them a small chance to live. Eyes open he drove himself deep, almost not noticing Trice, dark brown roots showing under the bleached blond of her very short hair. It looked cute on her, but he preferred her as a brunette. She had tears in her eyes so he forced a small smile to his lips and spoke just before he turned the shield off, almost not knowing what he said.
“I love you.” He handed her the truth amulet then, passing the glow to her, which she wisely turned off.
Tor leaned in to whisper, not certain how well the Larval heard, but figuring it was better not to take any chances.
“This shield is better than yours, they can't touch you in it. Sigil five and six on the weapon. Kill them all if they come for you. With these you can stop them. Say goodbye for me?”
Nodding she took all the amulets and flew straight up without pausing. Embarrassingly it left him naked, since she had his magical clothing too. He blocked it out though, no time for that, embarrassment, was there?
Only enough time to focus on one thing now.
The Larvals didn't hesitate, bright knives out they moved on him faster than he'd thought possible. At least twice as fast as a human being should be. When he felt the first knife, a slash of white pain, hot and cold that turned red to his mind, he triggered the field he'd been building. The world went white then. Painfully white.
It wasn't a chemical explosive, it was a wave of force that tore through the world in all directions, but, he found, canceled out in the direct center. Where he was.
After a fashion.
A really painful and hurty kind of balance in the middle. His eyes were pulped to destruction and his ears stopped working. He thought warm fluid ran from them but he didn't know for certain. Tor was on the ground, dying, crippled and broken, but so were the assassins. Except for one… of course.
There was always one in every group, wasn't there?
Stupid jerk, being all tough like that.
Tor figured it out when a blade bit into the side of his neck. Oops. He forced himself into calm and did what little he could, trying to feel the man with his mind. He couldn't focus enough to build, that time had passed. Now he had to hang on and fight, no matter how feeble his efforts. Tor weakly stabbed his shattered left hand into the man’s face, hitting nothing and getting a slash across the forearm for his trouble. But… while killing him the freak wasn't going after anyone else.
The razors edge started to bite his neck again, multiple slashes, over and over. It was done then, he realized. No way to live through that… Except for one thing. This man might still kill someone if he got free. His friends. Innocent people. That wasn't going to happen. Fight, he told himself.
Fight.
Right, Tor thought quickly, shield and cutter, basic things, make it happen, die later, fight now. Stop being so stupid. Just do it already. He didn't have to dive into dark and silence now, that made it easier, cut after cut hit him, then stopped. The man still swung, but when he hit the blade stopped hovering. Now, a weapon… It took time, and he didn't have it, he knew he was failing. Dying. There wasn't anything left.
Tor tackled the man and struck with his broken arms flapping uselessly, weakly, no strength in it at all. If he'd been in a combat rage he'd have the strength. Even he was stronger then, nearly twice as strong. But he wasn't even mad any more, much less raging. As he thought that, the knife caught between the small bones in his forearm. His shield was gone then. The left arm too, functionally, already pretty useless being broken. Pain lanced through him, reminding him of something.
Embrace the knife.
It was a fighter… well, legend was wrong, it was a real enough thing, the ultimate desperation move in combat, when you had no hope of winning or even living anymore, but couldn't let the other person simply triumph for some reason. Let them run you through and strike, killing them with one blow. Or take their weapon from them. Kolb had told him a story like that once, back at school, as Tor had pounded weakly at a pell with a practice blade.
Had the giant combat instructor known even then? Understood that if attacked, weak little Tor might need something that foolish and lethal? Or that he might reach a place where running away wouldn't work, and he had to protect someone else with his own life? Like his roommate, the heir to the realm?
Heh, that made a little bit of sense then, didn't it?
Tor twisted, fighting through the pain of the wound, locking the blade in place. The man let go in shock. Right hand barely working, Tor grasped the blade and freed it, gasping as it burned and seared. Then he stabbed wildly, barely able to find the man with his mind any more. He though he hit something. Maybe. Once, after a few seconds again, then a third time.
Then there was nothing.
That was nice. It was sort of peaceful. Empty, dark and… fuzzy, like being embraced by ephemeral velvet. For a moment Tor recognized it. He'd been here before. The bottom of the universe. Past the end of it. It was…
Everything.
And he was dead. This was what happened at the end? It was different than he'd thought. Bigger. Less shinny. Until it suddenly shrank again, into a brilliant pinpoint of white light.
Pain came, reminding him he was alive. Then after a moment sound too, a baffling mix of cries and shouting, when he opened his eyes, he saw Trice and Sara standing, no, kneeling, over him. He sat up slowly. The healing amulet? Well, it really did hurt when used then, and here he'd kind of thought people were just being whiners. Still, this was way better than being dead. As if nothing had happened at all Tor stood. Naked and still covered with blood. His clothing had gone away when he'd given Trice the amulet for it. He asked for it back, feeling a little sheepish.
“Moron.” Trice said, passing the amulet to him, crying, her voice a sob.
He couldn't respond really, she was right. He'd botched it all hadn't he? If he hadn't been so selfish, worrying about Smythe killing him, and given everyone good shields, the Larval wouldn't have been able to take anyone. If he'd armed them properly they'd have all been safe. But instead he was stupid and paranoid, valuing his own life above everyone else's.
Crap.
“Sorry Trice.” It was filled with emotion and contrition. As an afterthought he remembered to bow. It wasn't a low thing, but then, his failure hadn't wronged her that much at all. Maria Ward had nearly died for it. If he owed a real apology for this, it would be there, wouldn't it?
She pushed into him with a hug and cried loudly, like she did.
“I didn't mean it! God you almost die and you think I'm calling you stupid? How lame headed is that?” She sobbed the words loudly this time, not bothering with restraint any more.
Sara held him on the right, bloody and naked or not. All his blood at least. Most of it. He'd eaten about half of diner, but was starving, hunger actually trying to cramp his belly. At the same time the idea of food was repulsive.
When he looked around and saw what was happening, he heaved anyway, with nothing coming up, his body fighting for it, needing it because of the healing. Sara saw what he looked at and moved to shield his gaze with her body. A wall of white, almost see through, Ward traditional garb filled his view instead. It was a relief but…
Count Ward and Smythe worked in tandem, visiting each of the downed assassins, quickly using a cutter to remove their arms and legs, then healed them. Then they moved to the next. It was insane. Barbaric.
Sensible.
All those things at once. Oh, Tor got it. The Larval were just that tough. Take them prisoner, even not healed, and they'd probably escape in minutes if not sooner. Most likely killing people along the way. Now they couldn't. Not easily at least. Tor rubbed at his neck, feeling weak and expecting pain, but it was just a neck. No wounds, no blood… His hand came away red making him flinch, Tor tried suppress his reaction, but Trice looked at him and shook her head.
“No wounds now. It's done. You're fine and safe.” She hugged him, her own white clothing going red where she touched.
“You're alright. You stopped them. Everyone is alive.”
Thank the universe.
Not that the universe cared about such things, he knew. He'd felt it a few times, a touch of the infinite. The last being only minutes before. It was much too big for any of this to be important or even noticed. That could have been a bitter thought, but why bother? Complaining about what couldn't be changed just ruined your day and didn't fix anything at all.
Getting up he headed to the outdoor shower under the house he'd set up, the one for people to use before they climbed in the tubs, so the water would stay nice longer. It was warm and had temperature control sigils, so he turned the heat up, trying to cook everything away. Sara came over and filled him in on what was happening while Trice helped with the prisoners, who now that they were all healed… laughed. They wouldn't speak, it was just identical, maniacal and annoying. In perfect unison. Who got their arms and legs cut off and chuckled about it? And Trice had called him a moron?
Sara stayed by him, touching him every few seconds.
“Sorlee got everyone she could into the transport and took off. I'm not sure, but I think she's headed for the Capital. We should get in touch with them if we can and give them an update. We… should just stay here for a bit. They have a man coming to take care of the limbs. I don't want to see that really.” Her voice broke on the last line.
He didn't want to see it either really. Gross. Limbs just lying around like that.
Tor washed and had Sara scrub him until they were both sure he wasn't hiding any blood outside his skin and then did it all again. It was too much washing, he knew, but his friend didn't hesitate, even though it had to be boring by that time. They scrubbed and rubbed, lathered and rinsed. He shook the whole time, like a little dog, he was sure.
Tor had been so scared.
Even when he'd crawled into that well and it collapsed on him he hadn't felt fear like this. Everyone had almost died and it was all his fault. Tears ran down his cheeks and he sobbed. Quietly though. No need to advertise his weakness to the whole world. There were spies watching after all.
Without saying anything he turned, still naked, wet and crying a bit, and walked up the stairs to his room. He hit the sigil on his clothing amulet, which dressed him as he had been, except clean and fresh. Everything was damp, but that didn't matter, not yet. Next to his bed he found the communications device and without thinking hit the sigil for the palace and waited. It could take a while for someone to notice the bright blue glow. It wasn't that late, ten or so, but everyone would be at dinner still. Nothing happened for several minutes, then a young male voice spoke tentatively.
“Hello? This is the palace? Can I help you?”
“This is Tor, I need to talk to… Everyone. Can you get them for me?” He didn't know who this was, but it was important, so anyone should do.
“Um, I don't think so… I'm… just the boy that washes the floors sir. I don't know that anyone will listen to me…”
Fair point.
They should listen, but nobles could be snooty about rank. As if the kid that washed the floor wasn't just as good as anyone else when it came to delivering a message?
“Right. What's your name?” The immediate danger was probably past, no need to alienate this kid if he could help it. After all, in that moment, this boy was as close to being the most important person Tor knew as anyone in the world.
“Um, Kenner sir, Kenner Thorgood.”
“Oh, I know a Thorgood, She's the Countess, very nice lady.”
It turned out that he wasn't close enough a relative of Ursala to know her by name, but it was said, by people that didn't matter much at all, the boy made sure he knew, that they shared a distant ancestor. He was ten. Kenner did know which dining room the family was in that night however. The smallest. Normally he'd have been scrubbing that room first, but not that night, they had only a few guests and they were people close to the family.
“Good. Kenner, can you pick up the plate in front of you? There should be latches at the corners to keep it in place, can you get it free? Just slide the brackets to the side.”
“Yes, sir, but I'm not supposed to touch anything magic. It could e'splode. Or cut me in two. Or get the floor dirty…” The boy was scared, rightfully so even, but with a combination of bribes, and a promise that if there was a punishment Tor would take it himself, even if it was a whipping, Kenner agreed to walk the device in. The money and magic devices he offered, which Tor called bribes flat out, too shook up to think of them anything else, were nice enough.
“Presents,” Sara mouthed at him, looking slightly embarrassed. Well, too late now, bribe it was. They were to be delivered within the week. Though Kenner offered to give him more time if the beating was too bad.
Nice of the boy really, Tor thought. He thanked him for the consideration, and meant it.
It would probably be a double beating when they found out Tor bribed the boy after all.
Two guards tried to get in the boys way, but Tor rather gruffly told them there was an emergency and if they stopped Mr. Thorgood people could die. It probably wasn't true, but who knew what else was happening? What if other attacks were planned or going on at that moment? Tor still shook as Sara watched him closely. Like she was waiting for him to weaken so she could pounce. That's what it felt like. It wasn't fair of him to think that way though.
At the door of the dining room the guard became far more stubborn and wouldn't let them past. Jerk. Doing his job too well and all that… Tor just started yelling at the top of his lungs.
“Attack on Ward, Attack on Ward! Larval assassins. Larval assassins. Prisoners taken. Prisoners taken. Attack on Ward, Attack on Ward!” He kept going until the guard, freaking out a bit, if in a subdued, Royal Guardly fashion, opened the door so the people inside could hear him. Tor felt like a moron, but kept yelling at the top of his lungs anyway. His pride could take the knock of looking stupid.
A male voice, larger, deeper and louder than his own, boomed, “Situation report!”
Tor shorthanded it first, all alive, the Larval assassins, numbering seven, taken prisoner. The Countess Ward possibly incoming to capital with non-hostile… Tor didn't have a word for it. Group? Cohort? Team? It all sounded too military for a bunch of refugees fleeing attack.
“Retinue.” Sara added helpfully.
“Right. That's Sara Debri, one of the spies you set to watch me, oh, this is Tor. I'll let her talk now.” His voice still shook, worse now that he could relax and turn things over to more responsible people.
The blond next to him stared, and couldn't speak for a second, her mouth working, but nothing came out. Tor blinked and then put it together, he'd openly announced her as one of the King’s spies. Didn't she know he knew? Really? He would have laughed, but found he just couldn't. Shock, probably. He felt cold and light everything was buzzing under his skin, just a little.
Then, on command of the King, she told them everything. Tor felt sick again thinking about how they'd cut off the attackers arms and legs, but no sound came from the device when she'd said it. Then, much like Kenner had done, Tor carried his communication plate down so that Smythe and Count Ward could participate. Trice did too, and no one questioned her involvement. She was just one of “those” people when it came down to it. If she ran up to you and yelled situation report, you gave her one without question. If she sat in on a big meeting, people handed her paper and pens and then assumed she belonged. It was like a power of hers.
The legs and arms were gone, and as one the Larval were trying to use their torsos like worms to get away. Bunching up and then pushing out, little bits of ground covered at a time. It was both ridiculous and extremely frightening. If someone cut all his limbs off he'd have been crying like a little child, and probably soiling himself. It had been a close thing with their missing arms and legs almost making him do that.
What kind of maniacs were they? How did you train people to shrug off something like that? Count Ward kept walking over and dragging them back, one by one, to the staging area. He didn't laugh about it, or even smile. Nor was he cruel. No kicks, no blows. He didn't even threaten, he just grimly worked and kept them from making good their escape. Over and over again. It was, frankly, a lot more discipline than Tor had expected to see after they'd threatened to kill his wife. At the time the man had certainly looked ready to rush in and kill all of them that he could to save her.
Of course, if the Count had done that, she'd be dead.
If Tor, wearing his full shield and armed as he'd been had tried, the same thing would have happened. The Larval had secured the position too well and were too fast. Now if everyone had been shielded properly, they could have invited the Larval in for drinks and talked things out peaceably. Tor almost made himself smile, but that would be wrong, wouldn't it? The men trying to crawl away would think he mocked them. They all wore black and deep red clothing in a similar style, but one distinctly Noram. Tunic and pants. Or, well, shorts and vests now. Not that Tor was an expert on Austran styles, but they almost had to be different, didn't they? Their system was based on technology, not magic. It had to influence things. If they were all this one guy, no wonder they were attacking though.
They'd want Noram's women if nothing else.
It was decided that all of them would come to the Capital immediately. Given it would take hours for a transport to come and it was night already they'd just have to hold out till the morning. Not that anyone else would be coming to get them or anything silly like that, but just in case, it was decided they should go to a random location and hide. When the King said it Count Ward bristled a little.
“Why should we hide? They sent their best forces, and lost. To a single, naked, unarmed man. I doubt they'll come back looking for more in the same way soon. I wouldn't. This is… dismal your highness. These men should have been dispatched not… Crippled. It's on me, I know that, I rule here and take full responsibility for it, but still, it's not something I want to tell my children about.” The words were heartfelt and correct to the situation, but telling the royal family, including their daughter, pregnant by him that was not the best idea. No one started yelling, but Tor covered the silence.
“Right. I'll handle it. If you see the transport driver send them with a communications device so we known when they're getting in? I have a few that just have a random sigil there, in the cabinet under the main device in the audience room? Use one of those and let me know which one?” That got agreement, which didn't sound too confused, so Tor pointed in a direction and kept doing it.
It turned out to be north-east. Taking nothing but some servants and people from the party, about twenty of them, and his personal trunks. His stuff was ready, since he hadn't unpacked really, knowing that he'd be leaving any day. They walked out of town in groups of five. Most of the estates people had left with Sorlee and Maria, or they'd run away like they were supposed to when the whole thing had happened. Brilliant of them. If he'd lost they'd be alive still. Really, everyone should have fled. Luckily it had all worked out, but what if it hadn't?
Trice would have killed them all.
Right.
That didn't explain the others though. Stupid warrior instincts kicking in probably. Morons. Smythe had stayed and he didn't even have a shield on at all. No weapons and only one hand. Brave? Sure, but foolish.
Oh, Tor got it. It made sense in a way even.
The man, all of the people that had stayed, were planning on spending their own lives to try and stall the Larval like Tor had done, to let the others get away if possible. Again, his own lack of trust in people had made that way more dangerous than it should have been.
Using floating box amulets Tor made carrying units for the Larvals. It probably wasn't all that comfortable for them, not having padding inside, but it wasn't torture either. The ride was smooth and no one dropped, kicked or spit on them. A few of the younger serving men, about Tor's own age, made fun of them, mainly hitting on the fact that they were crippled now, had lost, and to a single man who wasn't even all that big or anything. Tor moved closer to say something about dignity, but the Count got there first, speaking softly.
“We of Ward treat people who have fallen in battle with respect. Always.” He didn't add more, and didn't sound angry. No one said anything to the assassins again as they walked. The guilty parties just looked down and nodded.
There was no destination in mind, so Tor just found a spot a few miles out of town and set up two magical houses. They looked like hovels on the outside and had no windows. Dirt brown on dirt brown with a touch of green and gray for authenticity. It would have to do, since without light he couldn't see to do better and Smythe assured him that using bright lights would show an air strike exactly where they were. The insides were empty boxes with single person beds, one for each person and restrooms at the back. That was all. Tor gave out amulets for nearly everything, to everyone, except the new weapons, since he didn't have any more. He did have force lances though, so they all got one of those. Royals, stable boys and dancing girls. No one got left out. Except for the Larval. Tor even handed a pile of amulets to Smythe, who took the with a nod, but didn't say anything.
He picked a bed in the back left corner and went straight to sleep, shield on. When he woke it was morning, the light coming through the door made that clear. Sara called out that the transport was coming and would be to hand in about twenty minutes or so. The blond didn't look like she'd slept at all, fresh dark circles under her eyes and pale skin along with slightly matted hair. For that matter, it didn't seem like almost anyone one had slept. Except him, apparently. He'd just gone out. Probably from the trauma and level of energy the healing took.
Tor brushed his teeth without water, which left his mouth feeling gritty and filled with cloying cinnamon, but the regular habit made him feel better anyway. There was no water around so they just waited and packed up without washing. The Larvals had been in the other hut, but it wouldn't have mattered to Tor.
At least he tried to claim so to himself.
In reality it made a huge difference once he thought about it. The idea of one crawling on him and biting his throat out while he slept made him glad he had a shield. The assassins would try it if they could, he had no doubt.
What didn't make sense was them trying so hard to kill him. It was like they hated him personally for some reason, but no one would tell him why at all. It wasn't like he'd wronged them, was it? Tor couldn't think of anything at all. Well, now, after he'd beaten them in a fight and then they had their limbs sliced off, sure, that could generate some hard feelings, but before that? Not even thwarting them at Queen's day should have done it.
It wasn't hard to get the transport to find them, because it could be seen easily enough against the early morning sky, black and shining, and they gave course corrections from the ground, talking until Major Godfrey set down. He walked out and looked around for a moment, then moved straight to Smythe who stood by the even bigger Count Ward. Godfrey looked tiny compared to them even if he still stood nearly six-five or six. He had rust red hair still, shorter than when they last met, reminding the builder that he needed to get his own cut soon. It was long now. Not girl long, but shaggy and past his collar by several inches, having grown fast in the last months for some reason. Possibly just because he hadn't cut it since he left school. Much longer and people would think he was a girl, instead of a young boy.
The Major did his military stuff, secret handshake or whatever they called it, saluting? Tor actually knew what it was, having had hundreds of people salute him at Wildlands, but now he didn't care. Godfrey had kind of taken his home from him. That it was the Major's home too mattered, but it was still kind of pushy and made him less than thrilled with the man.
Tor just started getting people loaded on the transport. The Larvals were floated in first, by Sara, who was used to handling multiple loads of cargo at once, that being her job at the moment. She was good at it, taking moments to do something Tor had dreaded as a complex chore. Everyone else looked a bit impressed too. Of course, emergency or not, most of them were young men and were actually impressed by her figure. In a tan military outfit that wasn't exactly sexy, she looked good anyway.
He still felt tired, really exhausted, like someone had nearly killed him and brought him back… or possibly drugged him. Either was possible in his world now. Which sucked, wickedly. Suppressing a yawn he suggested that everyone load up. Even if they had to wait they could at least do it sitting down for comfort right?
He didn't load his trunks into the vehicle just sitting on one instead.
“Tor? Is there a problem?” This came from Godfrey who was at least trying for polite, even if the last time they'd met it had gone badly. Sure, he should have just waited, not gotten in a snit over something trivial like being kept out of his own house by abusive armed military personnel. Just waited and when he got in made sure everyone could recognize his face somehow, so it wouldn't happen again. What he'd done wasn't the good or reasonable course of action. No it had been an abuse of his power. Still, he wasn't going to apologize for it.
He'd been punished enough, hadn't he?
“Nah. It's fine. I'm just waiting for everyone else to board so that if I have to sit on the floor or something to make everything fit I can. I'm smaller than anyone else, so if anyone gets wedged in it might as well be me.” He even sounded tired.
Godfrey nodded.
“Good plan. I think we'll have enough room though, notice this transport is bigger than the others? Holds seventy-five. I used standard plates for it. Works just fine though. Countess Thorgood gave me the idea. She's built a vast one, you can walk around inside it. Well, you made the plates so you probably know, but it's impressive. Did a lot of the work herself, her with the, uh, “ladies of industry” most of them are pilots now too, so they helped. Ready to begin taking on passengers soon.” The man smiled. “I mean the kind for flying. Not the other.”
Either way, it worked.
Tor nodded and got on board, his three cases hovering behind him. He'd come with four, but didn't have a box off pastries to share this time. An oversight. He'd have to talk to the Larvals about that, since if he'd known their plan he could have had some ready to go. Attackers just never seemed to think about things like that for some reason.
Kind of rude really.
Once in the air Tor tried to sleep, still exhausted, ending up sitting next to Count Ward and Smythe who took up about seventy-five percent of a four person bench between them. It worked well enough and the ride, while hungry and boring, was at least fast, smooth and relatively comfortable.
That was until the prisoners all started defecating and pissing themselves in some kind of biological warfare attack. Some of the men argued for covering the boxes, which was tempting, but not humane, since they'd suffocate to death. The prisoners still had to breath after all. Smythe sniffed and grimaced himself, then turned to the men in back.
“Not a wonderful scent, but we'll live. We can't land, in case an ambush has been set and this is the goad to set us up. We don't know what capabilities these assassins have, so we can't take chances.” He held up his right stump and waved it, looking at it until everyone else did too.
“Underestimate an opponent at your own peril… But not mine!” The man sounded confident and like a leader, chuckling slightly at his own deformity. It cut the grumbling by half at least. It was a real point after all and even the Ward men had to respect a military Counselor. He was sitting in the same transport they were after all. No special privileges there.
Tor closed his eyes and worked. He didn't have materials with him, but an idea had come, though he didn't know from where. It was simple enough, really he could have done it for over a year before without doing a novel build at all. Now all he needed was the stuff to make it fun. A bit of glitter maybe? It was just an amusement really, but seemed like something people would enjoy. Tor knew that fun wasn't what he should be focused on at the moment, but then… why not? He didn't have anything else to do and most people liked it, or so he'd heard.
They didn't, as he'd thought they might, land at the palace, but outside the gate that he used to think of at the main one. Doing a bit of calculation and remembering which hand was his left he realized it was the west gate. The nicest one, with a nifty little red building out front and a landing spot for flyers marked with fresh white arrows, four of them pointing inward. That was the Two Bends fast delivery service headquarters for the Capital. His family’s business, if a new one. They still ran the local bakery in his home village too.
Near the building there were city guard in their red outfits with white trim, all holding weapons. Military grade force lances of his own design by the fields on them. Well, if they were planning an attack it would not be going well for them against this crew. Tor took out his shining and colorful weapon as he got off and saw them. He didn't point it, in fact he pretended to be directing his cases with it. Always best to look like less than you were, right? No one stared at him any more than they normally would at someone with floating luggage.
The city guard, good men basically, if too tall and scary, weren't the Royal Guard at all. As Sara and Trice came out with the Larval, one of the men stepped forward, glancing around with a stolid look on his face. Well, really he looked a bit pissed off and constipated at the same time, but that wasn't a kind thought, so he let it fade. Tor recognized him, kind of. Captain… Curtis? He'd been the first person from the Capital Tor had talked too, but he doubted the man would recognize him after nearly a year.
“Gentles… I regret to inform you that his Majesty King Richard Cordes has ordered all of you detained for questioning. Please come with us peacefully.”
Tor froze, because that didn’t make sense.
Not at all.