Authors: Michael G. Manning
“We found King Darogen’s body.”
That was Chad Greyson, telling her mother what had
transpired before their arrival.
“It was one of the creepiest things I ever saw,”
continued the ranger. “The flesh was gray-blue, he’d been dead a while, but
when I turned him over they started crawling out the side of his face. He was
full of ‘em.”
“Did you kill them?” broke in Moira.
“Yeah,” he nodded, avoiding making eye contact with
her. He had been uncomfortable around her since her return.
“You think they could attach themselves to other
people?” asked the Countess.
Chad shrugged, but Moira was firm in her response, “We
don’t know, but we should assume the worst.”
Penny pursed her lips, concerned. “How many do you
think might be loose?”
“No way to know,” said Chad. “There was at least one
per person on this field, whether living or dead.”
“I destroyed the ones removed from the living, but I
can’t vouch for those killed during the battle by those strange weapons,” Moira
told them. “Plus there were more in Earl Berlagen’s home. Father destroyed
those, but it’s likely there were more hidden in the city.”
The Countess sighed, “It’s like the shiggreth all over
again. We don’t know how many there are, or where they might be, or who they
might be in…”
Gram coughed and Penny glanced at him, “Yes, Sir Gram,
do you have something to add?”
“At least the people are well acquainted with them.
They are no secret now. The Baron has had all the able bodied keeping watch
over those still unconscious, making sure they are kept safe. They’ve caught
several of the little monsters already, trying to creep into people’s mouths.”
Penny nodded, then addressed Moira, “I should like to
meet your baron.”
“He isn’t
my
baron, Mother, but he did help
save the city,” Moira replied emphatically.
“So everyone keeps telling me,” said Penny dryly.
“Everyone that’s awakened has had a similar story, but from what your father
and Gram have told me he did little more than protect you from the king, and
unsuccessfully at that.”
Adrenaline shot through Moira and her heartbeat
accelerated, but Myra cautioned her,
Avoid the implication, speak of
Gerold. Don’t let your emotions get the better of you.
“He’s a good man, with a kind and generous heart. I’m
happy to give him most of the credit if it will help his people find direction
in this chaos,” said Moira calmly.
“Where is he now?” asked the Countess.
“In the city,” volunteered Gram. “The palace was a
shambles so he’s organizing the survivors at a place called the Dusty Doxy.”
“Dusty Doxy?”
“A tavern,” explained Chad. “The owner survived and
hid in the cellars with a group of other citizens who were lucky enough to
still be free of the parasites when everything went to hell.”
***
An hour later they stepped through the doors. A crowd
of people turned to look at them, making note of the foreign livery of the
Countess’ soldiers. Gram stood tall enough to look over their heads. He waved
when he spotted Gerold, who made his way to them and cleared a path through the
main room so they could find a quieter place near one wall.
“Countess, I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” he
said once they could hear one another.
Moira gestured to him, “Mother, this is Gerold, the
Baron of Ingerhold.”
“Well met, Your Excellency,” responded Penny, offering
her hand to him. Her eyes fell on the older gentleman that stood beside him.
Gerold brushed his lips across her knuckles before
gesturing toward his balding companion, “May I also introduce my friend to you,
Your Excellency? This is His Grace, Lord Anselm, Archduke of Weltonbury and
first in line to succeed our late king.”
Once the formalities were done Penny explained her
position and offered whatever aid Cameron could provide. The archduke was the
first to respond, “Your sentiments are appreciated, but I think Dunbar will be
fine in most regards, once the chaos here has been sorted out. There is food
aplenty, too much in fact, now that half of Halam has been lost. The Baron and
I were just discussing the matter. I fear much of what we have may spoil
before it is used.”
“My husband and I would still like to help in whatever
way we can. Perhaps your surplus could be sold? You will need extra coin I am
sure,” replied the Countess.
Gerold sighed, “The demand won’t support it. Our
surfeit will overwhelm the markets here. The biggest problem will be dealing
with the dead. It would take weeks to bury them all and even if we burn them
we don’t have enough hands to manage it. Disease will be an issue if the
bodies start to rot before we do something.”
“I think we can help with both problems,” said Penny.
“My husband has long desired to connect his World Road to Dunbar, to facilitate
trade. While that will take too long for this purpose, he can certainly help
transport your goods to Lothion to sell at the markets there. We would also be
happy to lend you our men to aid in cremating the dead.”
As they spoke Moira studied the archduke. He was a
middle aged man with a growing paunch and bushy eyebrows. More important than
that however, was the fact that she was certain he hadn’t been among the people
she had freed, which meant he hadn’t had his memories adjusted. That, plus the
fact that he was first in line of succession, could spell trouble for her plan
to put Gerold on the throne.
With hardly a thought she sent a fine line of aythar
out, touching Anselm’s aythar and making him feel unwell.
The older nobleman’s face paled and his hands began to
shake. “Pardon me, my lady, I think I may need to sit down,” he told the
Countess.
Moira stepped forward, concern written in her
features, “Let me help you, my lord.” She took his arm and spoke to the
others, “I’ll help His Grace find a seat and fetch him something to drink.”
Her mother and Gerold were just getting into the meat
of their discussion, so they both nodded and let them go, intent on their
conversation. Soon enough Moira had the nobleman all to herself.
She wasted no time. After prevailing on the barman to
pour a tall beer for him she asked about his experience during the recent
disaster.
“I was spared the worst of it,” he told her. Anselm’s
hands were steadier now. “I was lucky enough not to have been infected by
those metal creatures beforehand and I had stopped here when everything began.
The mistress of the house, Tamara I believe her name is, sheltered us beneath
the taproom.”
“So you didn’t see any of the battle outside the
walls?” Moira asked him.
“Nor most of what happened within them either,”
admitted the archduke.
“You must be very proud of Baron Ingerhold,” she told
him. “He was very brave.”
Anselm frowned, “Gerold has always been a good man,
but I find the tales to be strangely lacking in substance.”
“How so?”
“I have met dozens who claim to have seen his actions,
but no one that actually remembers being helped. The stories are very vague
and it worries me how many have openly suggested he should be crowned king in
Darogen’s place,” said the archduke.
That was enough, Moira caught his mind in a grip of
iron. The old man’s face went slack as she searched his memories. It didn’t
take long to see that he had no intention of surrendering his place in favor of
the Baron. She smiled,
We can fix that easily enough.
When she helped him up a few minutes later he was a
changed man. She began escorting him back to the others.
“Lady Moira?”
Moira realized the woman standing behind her and to
one side, was Tamara, the owner of the tavern. “It’s you!” she exclaimed,
feigning happiness. “Thank goodness you weathered the storm unharmed.”
Tamara curtsied when she saw Anselm turn toward her,
“Your Grace.”
“No need for that,” he told her. “I am in your debt.
I surely would have died if not for your aid.”
“Your Grace, would you mind if I took a minute to
catch up with Tamara?” asked Moira.
“Not at all,” he responded. “I’m feeling much
better. I need to finish talking to your lady mother.” He moved away with
confidence in his stride.
“Was he alright?” asked Tamara after he had gone.
Moira raised her brows, “What do you mean?”
“He was just staring into space when I spotted you. I
thought something might have happened,” said the red-haired woman.
“Oh he’s fine, just a dizzy spell I suppose. Who can
tell with old men?” said Moira. “Tell me how things went for you yesterday.
You must have been terribly frightened.”
“It was the most bizarre day I have ever seen,” said
Tamara nodding.
Moira agreed, “It was a nightmare.” She noticed her
mother’s eyes on her then, but Penny looked away when she glanced over.
How
long was she watching me?
It shouldn’t matter, she hadn’t done anything
visibly strange, but she worried anyway.
What did Dad tell her last night?
***
It was late afternoon and they were preparing to
return home. Penny had spent the day making arrangements and directing the men
with her as to their duties for the morrow. They would be returning with her
the next day with a larger contingent of men tasked with assisting the people
of Halam in dealing with their scattered dead.
“Before we go I have one more thing to take care,”
Penny told her daughter, and then she addressed Gram. “Where is Alyssa?”
He tensed, “I believe she is with Grace.”
Grace had finally awoken the previous evening, but she
was still recovering. Alyssa had stayed with the smaller dragon as a
precaution.
“Take me to her,” ordered the Countess.
Gram nodded, “Yes, Your Excellency.”
Since they were already at the teleportation circle
they didn’t have far to go. Grace was resting in the barn of a small farmhouse
less than a quarter of a mile from there. The owner of the farm hadn’t
appeared, so they weren’t certain if the man or his family were dead or merely
fled.
Chad Grayson and Alyssa were engaged in conversation
when Moira and Penny entered. Gram followed close behind them, worry written
on his face.
“My lady,” said the hunter, dipping his head. Alyssa
kept her eyes on the ground.
The Countess acknowledged him but her attention was
firmly on the young woman. She waved at the open barn door and the three
guardsmen that had accompanied them filed in, moving to the sides. “Alyssa, or
whatever your name properly is, you are under arrest for murder, kidnapping,
and the assault of my guardsmen. You will surrender yourself to my men and
accompany us to Castle Cameron, there to stand trial for your crimes.” There
was steel in her voice.
“Yes, Your Exce…”
“Hold on!” interrupted Gram, moving to stand between
his liege and his lover. “There’s more to this than what you’ve heard.”
Penny’s eyes were cold. “That will be seen during the
trial. Stand aside, Sir Gram.”
“She didn’t want to be there. You don’t have to do
this,” he answered, stubbornly keeping his place.
“Lilly Tucker is dead. My daughter was kidnapped.
The trial will determine her responsibility in this matter. Now step aside
Gram, unless you are thinking of violating your oath.”
“Mother, please, it doesn’t have to be like this,”
said Moira. Her mother looked calm, but Moira’s magesight could sense the
tension in her muscles. Penny’s hand rested lightly beside her sword hilt,
ready for violence.
One of the guards stepped forward, pulling a pair of
iron manacles from a heavy leather sack he had been carrying.
I should have
noticed those,
thought Moira, but it hadn’t occurred to her to examine the
guardsmen earlier.
“No!” said Gram, waving a hand at the man. “Step
back.” He had a desperate glint in his eye.
Chad’s hand was on his long knife, “Think about what
ye’re doin’ Gram. Ye’ll only make things worse.”
The moment teetered on a dangerous edge until Alyssa
stepped past Gram, holding her wrists out to the guard with the manacles. “Let
them take me, Gram. I must answer for what I’ve done,” she said sincerely.
The tension went out of his stance and Gram’s head
bowed.
“Take her to the circle,” commanded the Countess.
Still as stone, she watched the guards lead Alyssa out. Gram followed and Chad
behind him, watching his young friend in case he had any more thoughts of
rebellion.
Penny started to move, but Moira spoke, quiet fury in
her voice, “That wasn’t necessary,
Mother.
”
“It was entirely necessary,” said Penelope, unfazed.
The cold dismissal sent fire running through Moira’s
veins. “He’s in love with her. Are you trying to drive Gram away? What do
you think he will do if he’s forced to choose between her and his loyalty to
our house?” As much as she would rather Gram wasn’t in love with Alyssa, Moira
didn’t want to see him do something stupid.