By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) (36 page)

         Selric raced back into his room, washed,
and dressed, before going to receive, what seemed to him to be, his weekly
berating.  His four judges were all present, something he was not surprised to
see.  Mendric stood behind their mother as she sat in her chair.  He was
smiling though she was obviously distraught.  Andric stood before the hearth
and Grandfather sat near him, facing the fire.  Will was not there.  As was
common, Grandfather spoke first, rising as quickly as his old frame allowed.

         “If it isn’t our wayward son.  Did you
rest well, boy?” he asked as he approached, leaning again heavily on his cane.

         “Yes Grandfather, I did.  And thank you,”
Selric said, trying not to laugh as Mendric continued to chuckle to himself and
make faces at Selric, trying to get him to buckle and get into even more
trouble.

         “I would hope so,” his grandfather said. 
“Coming in at odd hours and getting up near lunching time.  You’d better clean
up your act, mister.”  He shook his cane at Selric.  “I may have to take you
down a few notches.”  Selric looked at Mendric who was still musing.

         “Mendric, you don’t look well,” Selric
said, and when the family turned to look at him, Selric cast him an obscene
gesture.  Mendric had stopped his harassment, at least momentarily, and simply
smiled back.

         “I feel fine,” he said.  Then, their
father began and Selric knew he would not quell
him
so easily.

         “Well?” Andric asked expectantly.  Selric
raised his brows for his father to continue, truly fearing to say a word. 
“Have you anything to say?  Any confessions or requests for mercy?” his father
continued.  Selric shrugged.  He had no defense; he had defied his parents’
orders.  “You know that you are not to have women in your room.”  Selric knew
as much and was generally very careful when he had guests.

         “You’d think,” Grandfather added, “that
if you had half a brain, boy, you would take them somewhere else.  It’s not as
if you have to come home.  Hell’s bells, you don’t most nights anyway.”  Violet
looked at him.  “I mean, it’s not that we want you sleeping overnight with any
women,” he said softly and hurriedly, trying to avoid the Lady’s disapproval,
“but it seems stupid to do it here.”  He fell silent, before he put his foot
any further into his own mouth.

         “Father,” Selric said, “it’s not like the
other families will care.  There won’t be any slander on your family name,” he
said impudently.  Andric grew red and Selric knew that he had not said the right
words.

         “I don’t care about the other families
and what they think!” Andric yelled.  “We have rules here that you must obey. 
And I see that you use your “family name” whenever it suits you, you little
whelp.  I ought to boot your ass right off the estate and see how you like
not
being a Stormweather.  All this, beside the point of your mother finding naked
women with her son, and the type of women that they are.  But then, I don’t
suppose you’d find women of station doing what you require.”

         “I am sorry,” Selric said sincerely,
though not able to look at his mother directly for the apology.  “But I really
didn’t think she’d be safe anywhere else.  I won’t go into detail, but,
on
my honor
, that is the truth.  I was going to sleep with Will, but...”     

         “You couldn’t resist,” his father
finished.  “How many times have I heard, “I couldn’t resist?””

         “I don’t know father, but this time...”

         “Too many,” Andric blared.  “What about
the servants' quarters, or even a guest room, if she
is
important to
you?”

         “I was wrong,” Selric admitted loudly,
growing annoyed.

         “You were wrong because you got caught,”
his father snapped.  “And without severe punishment, you’ll do it again.  No
more.  Do
not
have another overnight guest in your room.  Do you
understand?  Or you are out!”  Selric looked at his mother, but she turned
away, sadly, in support of her husband in admonishing her son’s disobedience.  Selric
nodded in understanding then silently walked out:  an ultimatum delivered by
his father was as sure as the sun rising and setting.  He heard his mother
begin to cry, followed by the compassionate voices of his father and
grandfather as they comforted her; her sorrow was a sound he never wanted to
hear again.

         The Fiend stood in the shadows, moaning
and licking the blood from Its claws.  Its lust would not subside, the
satiation barely lasting longer than the time it took to cruelly torture and
slay Its victims.  The drive to kill became painful and the Fiend realized this
desire would eventually come even under the Great Star’s gaze, and men would
see It, and track It to Its lair and kill It.  Winter was coming.  If the urge
to slay came under light then, It would be unable to escape; the gates would be
locked, the city snowed in.  It would have no escape until spring.  The Fiend
could flee now into the Wild and luckily trap an occasional female.  But prey
would mostly be animal while It hid out in the wilderness, biding Its time.

         The Fiend looked down at the two bodies,
now ripped and bloody.  It knew It could not leave such a place where females
were so easy to catch.  They were easy prey, and there were so many of them. 
The Fiend knew few hungry nights now.  Men here were inept, corrupted by greed,
power, or desire to stay alive.  The Fiend flourished here.  It did as It
pleased.  Someday, the King’s men would catch It, but not for seasons yet, and
the Fiend knew, as a panther unable to resist a cattleman’s herd once he has
trimmed it, that it was far better to die for the chance at taking easy prey,
than to barely survive in the Wild.  “No flight,” the Fiend decided.  And then
there was the mission:  there was always the mission.  What exactly it had
been, the Fiend wondered now, less and less able to remember any of Its life or
training before Andrelia.

         Even if It were discovered, It would prey
on the politicians and officials who sought to have It killed:  the ones the
Fiend was originally sent to destroy.  It could remove all opponents and spare
one man, one greedy man, who undoubtedly would agree to allow the Fiend to live
as It willed, while in return It would eliminate this man’s enemies.  But it
was months before the Fiend would have to find a corrupt human such as that;
maybe years.  The Fiend decided that It would prey until then.  It felt no fear,
no remorse, and no need to stop.  No longer would It work toward the goal It
was created to accomplish.  The time had come to please Itself.

         The two dead women had fought bravely and
in unison, and the Fiend was unable to subdue them and to take them to It’s
lair.  So, It took out It’s axe and hacked them into little pieces and placed
what It did not consume in a sack.  It placed this sack aside and went off into
the night, finding Its next prey far from defenseless.  The Fiend had gone no
more than two city blocks when It came upon an old man leaning heavily upon his
walking staff.  Though It could not satisfy It’s lust to spoil and to take, the
Fiend could stave off the need for blood until It found suitable females.  It
crouched, ready to leap, and when the man was close enough, It did.  But as the
Fiend flew toward the wizened figure, It was turned aside by the staff and fell
to the street.  The old man cast back his cloak, revealing the robes of a
wizard beneath; the glyphs and sigils upon it glowing in silvery radiance as he
summoned all his power.  The Fiend was undaunted, It had killed priests and
wizards before, as well as warriors and guardsmen; but never one as powerful as
the one It faced then.

         Small balls of light flew from his
fingertips, striking the Fiend, stinging like arrows.  The Fiend bellowed and
leapt again.  This time, Its claws grabbed hold of the mage’s throat.  Hatred
burned the Fiend and It nearly snapped the neck of the old man, but by strength
of body, mind, or magic, he knocked the Fiend’s arms away and blasted him with
magical fire.  The Fiend recoiled and covered It’s face, leaping yet again. 
It’s recently acquired enchanted sword swept down, nearly severing the wizards
arm, and shattering the globe of magical protection that surrounded the mage
with a bright flash.  But for the third time, the Fiend was blasted back by
magical energies.  This time It was blinded.  The Fiend fled using It’s other
senses, and the mage, too seriously wounded to want to tangle further with the Fiend,
fled to his own home.  Using mostly his keen nose, the Fiend found Its way to
the sewers and wandered for more than a day until the blindness had passed. 
But until then, all other denizens of the darkness fled before It.  The Fiend
ripped to pieces anything It got Its claws on during the rage, but could not
make it to Its lair without Its sight.

         Selric had spent the last week away from
home, afraid to take Alanna back there.  Aside from taking Cinder and Fiona
each on a date, he spent every other moment with Alanna.  He moved her into
The
Unicorn’s Run
, and though she did not actually work there, her beauty shone
now that she had been cleaned up and dressed as someone befitting a paramour of
the young Stormweather.  She was repeatedly propositioned, rivaling the
pleasure girls of
The Run
in attractiveness.  Naturally, she declined. 

         Life for Alanna was easy, if a bit
boring.  Her bed was free, her food was free and when Selric was away, she
would mostly sit quietly in her room and wait solely for his return.

         When the couple had overcome their
initial shyness toward each other, which was a trait rarely seen in Selric, he
found that Alanna was funny, sly, caring, and extremely intelligent; as great
as anyone he knew, except for perhaps Fiona and an old acquaintance, Delia the
Mage.  “With proper schooling, she could have learned the art of magic,” he
told her one afternoon.  But it was an unrefined intelligence, and she was
still often as crude as her upbringing.  It was hard for him to believe she had
been kept by the leader of their band, when she clearly possessed the
intelligence to rule them all.  He thought, perhaps, it was because she was
only nineteen years of age.  But when he thought of equally young Fiona’s fire,
he knew were their positions reversed, Fiona would have been ruling that band
of thieves.

         Alanna was attractive and alluring,
possessing a simple charm over men, brought on by being both straight forward
yet yielding:  she enjoyed the same topics and pastimes as most men of her station
and could hold her own amongst them.  But she was wily enough to always let
them think her subservient, her beauty winnable.   She let them have their way,
or at least think that they did, while she subtly set them straight to her
thinking.  Males could talk to Alanna about anything; she never blushed nor
withdrew.  She was tall and, when properly attired, extremely elegant.  She had
grace and a sweet smile.  She was quiet and loyal and supported her
man—currently Selric—in all he decided.  But for this one, Alanna would do
anything, even kill, which wasn’t too surprising, since she had been a street
thug nearly her entire life.  But, best of all to Selric, Alanna was at home in
all the circles where he moved:  she knew the back streets at least as well as
he did, maybe better.  And she was able to blend in, much like Fiona, at the
gatherings he was hoping to take her to in the future.

         To Alanna, Selric was unbelievably kind,
handsome, and rich, more in any one of the three than she thought she would ever
find combined in one man.  Selric seemed completely taken with her, but she
knew it could never last, especially into marriage.  Those things just did not
happen to girls like her.  But she liked him, without a doubt:  she was drawn
to him and she knew she could easily grow to love him, again, love being
something that could not happen to someone born into her lot of life.  So,
Alanna decided to enjoy the fairy-tale time she spent with her charming prince,
enjoying the days and nights, until the destined day of their separation must
eventually arrive.

         Just one short week after Selric had
walked out of the hearth room under threat of expulsion, he walked back in,
Alanna on his arm.  She was wearing a long golden dress; her straight yellow
hair hanging down behind her.  She was adorned with a dab of cosmetics to color
her face and a smattering of jewels, many from the coffer Selric had taken from
Alanna’s former compatriots.  What she wore, though, that drew the most
attention was the broad and nervous smile on her frightened face.  As they
approached the family, Alanna bit her lip and trembled nervously, clinging to
Selric’s steadfast arm.

         “Hello everyone,” Selric said gaily. 
They, except for Helmric, replied with “Hello.” 

         “This is her,” Selric proclaimed. 
Everyone, even Alanna, wondered what he meant by his words.

         “This is who?” Violet asked nervously. 
The Stormweathers awaited his answer.  Selric smiled, goading them all with his
patient grin.

         “Alanna,” he finally said.  “The girl who
was here last week, and an important person to me.” 

         “Oh!  The...” Violet started, her eyes
wide with recognition.  But she did not finish her thought.

         “Didn’t recognize her with her clothes
on, eh?” Helmric said, laughing.  Alanna turned several shades of red and looked
ill, trying to pull away and run out.  Grandfather, gruff as he was, did not
wish to embarrass her, and hurriedly continued when he noticed her discomfort. 
“I wish I’d gone into the room myself.  She’s a beautiful lass, Selric.” 
Alanna looked up and smiled at him to which he returned a friendly wink. 
Andric, Violet, and Mendric were shocked at his hitherto uncommon frivolity.

         “Father!” Violet urged in a hushed but
concerned tone.

         “Hello dear, I’m Andric.  The lecher is
my father, Helmric.  This is my wife Violet, and son Mendric.”  Alanna smiled
at them all but when her gaze fell on Mendric, he turned away.

         “Well, Alanna,” Violet said.  “What do
you
do?” she asked, giving up on asking Selric’s girlfriends about their families,
because none of them ever turned out to be noble born.

         “Nothing,” Selric answered.   “And she
has no family either.  Not yet.”  Violet turned to her husband in shock, though
trying to hide as much from Selric and his guest.  “Well,” Selric continued,
“is all you four do sit in here?”

         “No,” Mendric said.  “I actually do have
to go to the academy.”  With that, he said farewell, turned and went hastily
into his room.

         “No is right,” his father said. 
“Actually, we’re planning our voyage to our winter estate.”

         “You
are
coming, aren’t you?”
Selric’s mother asked.

         “I don’t think so, Mother.  I haven’t
spent a winter at home in years.  I’d like to stay,” Selric said.

         “Fine,” his father said eagerly.

         “No it’s not,” Violet protested.  Alanna
clung to Selric’s arm, awaiting a buffeting slur against her from Lady
Stormweather for poisoning her son’s mind or some other motherly tirade.  But
one did not come.  “Selric, I haven’t seen you in two years.  I thought we’d
spend the winter as a family, with no outside distractions, no academies, no
parties.”

         “Oh, Violet,” Andric protested.  “In one
month you’ll be at every social gathering in Gelton.  You’d never stay out on
the estate for more than three days at a stretch.  Let’s leave the boys here
alone this year.  The gods know they’re old enough.  Let us go alone.”  He
knelt and took her hand and kissed it.  “We can go out with no relatives, no
visiting nieces or nephews or distant cousins.  Let’s renew our love and our
passion.”  Violet blushed and Alanna leaned closer to Selric, the talk of
romance melting the ladies’ hearts.

         “What about that piece of baggage there,”
Selric said, pointing to his grandfather.

         “Oh, don’t worry about me,” Helmric said,
throwing his hands in the air.  “Your father hasn’t listened to me since I
outranked him.  Ever since I retired from the service, he’s taken advantage of,
and pulled rank on, me.  They’ll set me in a corner and throw a sheet over my
head or something like the piece of unused furnishing I have become to the
great Stormweather clan.”

         “Yes, Dad.  And you’d sit there talking
to yourself,” Andric said.

         “Why shouldn’t I?  It is the only way I’m
guaranteed an intelligent conversation.”  He mumbled to himself and walked off
to his room.  Once in the far room he turned and spoke through the open doorway,
“Nice to meet you, Alanna,” then he shut the door.

         “I don’t know,” Violet said to her
husband.  “You know Brandon is going away.  He was to be here to help Mendric.”

         “It will be fine.  Mendric will do fine. 
It will all be
fine
.  It is settled:  I want you to myself.  Make your
list and have the servants begin fetching it all.  We’re late this year and
winter’s coming early.  I’ll get the ship in order and ready to sail.  We leave
within a week.”  Mendric was peeking out his door.  Selric saw him and waved
coyly; all he could see was his brother’s eyes.

         “Excuse me, but I could use your help,
Selric,” came Mendric’s muffled voice, from where he seemed to be actually
hiding behind the portal.

         “I’m busy just right now, Mendric. 
Momentarily.”

         “No.  Right now, Selric,” he said,
sticking his whole head then out the door.

         “I’m sorry, Alanna, but excuse me.  This
won’t take long.  Maybe you’d like to wait in the foyer?” Selric asked, knowing
that she must be uncomfortable alone with his parents.