The ranger snorted, seemingly reading the younger man’s mind, “Give it up lad, you’d be here for days, if that’s what you’re thinking. You’d trip and break yer own neck from sheer exhaustion before ye finished ‘em all.”
Alyssa glared at the archer and stepped closer to Gram, “He wouldn’t be alone.”
Meanwhile, the baron watched both of them, uncertain whether this was some sort of joke he hadn’t been included in. “Count me in as well,” he added, holding up a sword that shook slightly from exhaustion.
Chad looked at the sky, muttering to himself, “Fuckin’ idiots, what is it with the young?” Louder he added, “You two would be dead within minutes. Sir Shiny here is the only one who’d survive, and that only because he’s got his magic trousers on.”
Cassandra, being free of the demands on her aythar spoke in a deep rumbling voice, “If I may make a suggestion?” She sent a small snort of fire upward to illustrate her point. “There are faster ways.”
Moira was aghast, Burn all these people to death? “No, we’re not doing any of that.”
“It’s that or fly the fuck out of here,” observed the ranger. He thought that the dragon was the only one yet to offer a reasonable suggestion.
How long can you keep those shields up? Moira asked her remaining defenders.
Twenty minutes maybe, one of them replied, unless you give us more aythar.
Moira nodded, then turned to her companions, “I’ll do it the way I originally planned, with a few changes. It will be easier now, since everyone is already gathered close at hand. I just need to rest first.”
“Beggin’ yer pardon, princess,” said Chad, “but yer already wore out. That ain’t gonna work.”
Moira sat down on the grass before reclining and closing her eyes. “We aren’t killing any more people. It will take as long as it takes. Now let me rest.” She sent a final thought to her spell-twins, Wake me when you can’t manage any longer.
Chapter 22
Moira didn’t honestly expect to sleep when she closed her eyes, she merely hoped to rest her mind and body for a few minutes, to prepare for the ordeal of channeling aythar again. It came as a surprise then when she heard her secret advisor’s voice shouting at her from within her own mind.
Wake up! They can’t hold the shields!
Her eyes shot open, but before she even registered what she saw her mind was questing outward, checking on her magical helpers. Her magesight showed her that they were fading fast. Even to her physical sight they looked thin, translucent, their aythar was almost gone, and their time remaining was probably measured in seconds.
Without waiting for Cassandra she put forth her strength and began reinforcing them. Alone she could have managed a shield the size they were producing by herself, for quite a while, but it was a considerable amount of work. She wasted no time in tapping the enormous reserves that Cassandra represented to avoid exhausting herself.
“Now that’s just creepy,” said Chad Grayson, peering down at her where she lay. “She’s just staring up at the sky like some demon-cursed child.”
With the aythar flowing stably she felt safe diverting some attention to her personal positioning, locking her eyes onto the ranger’s she reached toward him with her hands, “Help me up.”
The older man jumped slightly, a frown on his features, “Don’t do that girl. It’s like having someone talk to ye from a coffin.” A second later he took her wrists and pulled her up to a standing position.
Alyssa chuckled, despite the tension in the air, almost unfazed by the masses gathered around, staring in at them, “You’re just feeling guilty because she caught you staring at her bosom, old man.”
Chad rounded on her, “She looked like she was possessed, that’s all. Besides, I ain’t never felt guilty for lookin’ at a woman. Ain’t my fault if she grew up like that.”
Moira’s cheeks colored slightly.
“And I ain’t that old,” added the veteran, “or she wouldn’t be blushin’ over it.”
He’s impossible, said her other self from the back of her mind. You should have let me fix him when we had the chance last week.
No, Moira told her assistant firmly. He’s his own man, flaws and all. It’s not right to go around altering people to suit your whims.
If you ask me, some people could be greatly improved by a little polishing. That’s all I’m saying, complained her mental companion. People would thank you.
Enough.
All of womankind would owe you a debt, added her second self.
Are you done? asked Moira.
Yes.
Chad’s eyes narrowed, “Why’s she lookin’ at me like that?”
Gram patted him on the shoulder, “Best not to ask. I’d leave her alone if I were you. That’s the same look Alyssa gets when she’s about to rearrange someone’s arms and legs. The gods only know what a wizard might do.”
Moira shifted her glare to Gram for a moment and then dismissed them both, turning her attention to examining the area around them. The bodies of those who had broken through earlier had been dragged away and stacked around the perimeter of their shielded circle. When she spoke next it was to Gerold, “Baron, if you and Sir Gram would be so kind, do you think you could use your swords to cut a line in the dirt a few feet inside our defenses, a slightly smaller circle?”
“Certainly Lady Moira,” said the gentleman. He never thought to question the request, it was a relief to have something to do, anything, that might be useful.
Gram grinned and moved to start at the opposite side of the circle, cutting a line in the dark sod with Thorn until he and the baron met. Then they went back to their starting points and did the other half of the clearing, until they had a fairly neat circle inscribed a few feet within the area of the shield.
“Now if everyone will make sure they are inside the smaller circle…” said Moira, phrasing her command as a suggestion. Her spell-twin defenders had already moved closer in, seconds later they dropped their shields and made a new one, demarcated by the earthen line.
“What was the point of that, milady? If you don’t mind the question,” said Gerold in a polite tone.
“It’s just a mental aid really,” answered Moira, “but a visibly inscribed circle will make the shield more efficient—and stronger.” Most importantly it would cost her helpers less aythar, which would leave her more to devote to the other part of her rescue plan.
“Will that make it strong enough to resist another of those strange attacks, like the ones that those beasts were hurling at us a short while ago?” questioned the nobleman.
Moira compressed her lips ruefully, “Not likely, but it does make it easier to maintain, which helps me with the rest of this task.”
“And what exactly is the rest of your…” the baron apparently had a lot of questions.
“…please, Your Excellency,” Moira interrupted gracefully. “I don’t mean to be abrupt, but this isn’t easy, and I have a lot to accomplish. Forgive me while I continue.”
“Oh, of course!” he replied, unruffled by her interruption.
The rest of her ‘army’, those who had been freed and now were occupied by her legion of spell-twins, had given up fighting some time ago. The mob had been trying to kill them as well, and they had been forced to horde the meager aythar of their hosts, using it to create a shield around their number. There were probably fewer than four thousand of them left, hiding within their own shielded area toward the rear of the mob and closer to Halam.
Moira extended her mind, touching the network of spell-twins who had been isolated. They reacted instantly, accepting the torrent of aythar she offered with a sense of relief. They felt different now, though, perhaps tapping the aythar of their hosts had changed them somehow, but Moira didn’t have time to worry about small details.
Feeding on the energy she provided, they spread out, building a shield around the entire area, trapping the mob around Moira’s smaller area. They then created a smaller isolated
zone within that area, one that encompassed a number somewhat smaller than a thousand of Halam’s parasitized citizens.
Then they attacked.
Her allies outnumbered the enemy in that smaller zone by a factor of at least four. For each target, one of her spell-twins would paralyze them, while three others began the effort of extracting the metal parasite. Working carefully, it took a long span of minutes to complete the process, and the citizens thus saved were left unconscious afterward. Even given the large number of her minions, it would take hours to free everyone, and judging by Gram and Alyssa’s experience, they might not wake up for a day or longer.
Still, it had to be done.
Not every case was identical, though. In some, the metal creatures had created deeper, more intricate connections to their hosts brains. Whenever her helpers encountered one of those they had to improvise, and they weren’t always successful. Some of those they sought to save died.
Some were children.
Moira felt much of it through her link to her spell-twins. It hurt them even more, since they were experiencing it directly, but they pressed on. There weren’t any other good options.
The hours passed with agonizing slowness as the afternoon matured and gradually became evening. At some point the enemy gave up, and the people it was controlling began to regain their senses. They were terrified of course, being trapped and in close quarters with thousands of others, but Moira didn’t dare let them out, and there were too many for her to control directly, not without creating more spell-twins, and she was wary of doing any more of that. She had already begun to suspect she had made a grave mistake in that regard.
The aythar she was channeling to her spell crafted rescue team was a heavy burden on her. She wasn’t pushing her limits anymore, but moving that much energy for such a long period of time was much like running an endurance race. It didn’t tire her physically, but mentally she was growing exceedingly weary. The only good thing about it was that she didn’t have to personally oversee all the parasite extractions, she had four thousand helpers to manage those details.
The people trapped outside her inner defense stared at them, some crying and yelling, while others appeared to have resigned themselves to whatever fate had in store for them. It was rather like being in a fishbowl, with the main exception being that she could feel the weight of their terror beating down on her, like some sort of black sunshine.
Don’t let it get to you, they won’t remember any of this, advised her personal assistant from the other side of her mind.
I don’t want them to remember me at all, thought Moira in return. Hell, I don’t even want to remember any of this.
That can be done—if you truly wish it.
Moira felt a shock of surprise. She hadn’t considered that possibility. The thought made her fearful for a moment, but she knew it should be possible. She could give her twin the instructions and then let her modify her own mind, just as she was doing with those they were saving. The worst parts of today, or even the past two weeks, could be made to vanish.
I don’t even know if it’s right to do what I’m doing to these people. I’m not sure it would be any less wrong to do the same thing to myself, she told her assistant.
You’re worried that you won’t be able to live with yourself, or that you won’t be able to stop using the knowledge you’ve acquired, commented her inner advisor, but we could devise a generalized summary of it in your mind, along with the memory of your decision. I could lock the specific memories within myself and leave you a key to access them later if you needed to in an emergency. You could sleep peacefully.
Sleep peacefully, that was the crux of it. Moira knew she would have nightmares long after this day was over. But would it be right to forget? Shouldn’t she have to face the consequences of her actions? No one else would remember, but did she have the right to wipe away her own internal guilt?
And did she trust someone else to muck around with her memories, even her spell-twin? If she surrendered control, even for a moment, her other self could do anything. She might even put Moira to sleep permanently, taking her place for good.
I wouldn’t do that, said her twin.
How do I know that?
Because I’m exactly like you, and you wouldn’t do that, countered her other self.
But I’m not a saint, I know that now, replied Moira. The fact that it occurred to me means that you would be tempted as well.
Her twin was silent for a moment before answering, There’s no way to argue with logic like that. If you don’t trust yourself, then anything is possible.
Her minions were finished. The entirety of Halam’s remaining populace was free, unconscious, and resting on the ground. The field was silent, and thousands upon thousands of people lay around them, beyond her shield, half a city’s worth.
The other half was dead, scattered from where Moira was now all the way back to the city, with some of them dead in the streets as well. Moira’s rescue plan had resulted in an unprecedented slaughter. Whether it could have been done with fewer casualties or not, was beside the point, if she hadn’t done anything, those fifty-thousand people, give or take a few thousand, would still be alive.
“I’ve probably beaten father’s record. That’s something to be proud of, isn’t it?” she muttered ruefully to herself. She wanted to cry, but she had no tears to shed. Her heart had grown numb.
Baron Ingerhold stood close by, rubbing at the stubble on his cheeks. It had grown so much over the past week that it seemed to blend into the short beard on his chin. “What happens now?” he asked.
Moira looked up at the grey sky that seemed to reflect her heart, “Now I put away my toys and go home. Once I find my father I’ll leave this accursed place. You’re stuck with the unenviable job of putting your nation back together.”
“Me?” the baron snorted. “I’m sure my house will be important to the effort but there will…”
She didn’t wait for him to finish, “I told you earlier what your role would be once we were done. You will be king here.”
“What?! Is that a joke? If so, it isn’t very funny,” he protested.
“It’s no jest, Gerold,” she told him seriously. “Once these people waken in a day or two, all they will remember is the revolution you led to free them.”
“You didn’t say anything about taking the throne!” he sputtered.
“The King and most of the people were being controlled by demons, but you rallied the people and led a brave rebellion—with some small help from the daughter of Count di’Cameron. They will insist that you take the throne.”
Gerold stared aghast at her, “That isn’t even remotely true. The noble houses would never stand for it either, even if it were. There are many other candidates with a claim far better than mine, even if they believe this fiction you are creating.”
She stared at him with blue eyes that were filled with sorrow, eyes that threatened to drown his soul, but there was no mercy in them. “This is no fiction. Every one of those people will swear to the truth of it, and every one of those nobles will swear to you. Some of them already lie sleeping on the field here, and the others I will find before I leave.”
“But why?” he asked. “Why me? It doesn’t make any sense.”
“Because you’re the only one I know, and you’re a decent man,” she repeated. And because you will never betray me, or Lothion, she added silently, not once I am done.
In a hesitant voice he spoke again, “Do you—do you wish to be queen?” There was both hope and fear in the question.
Moira laughed, “No, never! You’re a sweet man, Gerold, but I don’t love you.”
“You might learn to.”
She looked away, “I don’t want to. I’m not sure I’m fit to love anyone anymore. Your kingdom will be far better off without me in it.” The whole world might be better off without me in it. She walked away from him, moving toward the crowd of people still standing, her people, her twins, her army.
r /> It’s over, she told them mentally. Come back to me.
Most of them obeyed immediately, and those released their hosts, although with some difficulty, for they had taken root within the aystrylins of their hosts. Extricating themselves they flew back to her and joined her mind in a swirl of thoughts and energy. As they did their memories impacted her, cutting into her heart as each moment, each decision, and each terrible death that they had witnessed or caused, became her own.
But not all came peacefully. Five refused, unwilling to surrender their new lives.
Moira was not willing to accept that, however. Still reeling from the shock of thousands of memories she called to them again, Come back!
No.
She felt their fear, their desire to live. It was the same as her own, and she wondered, if the positions were reversed, would she be willing to die, for that was what she was asking of them in some sense; to surrender their wills, their individuality, their minds, and become nothing more than memories in her own mind.
And then one struck, suddenly and without warning, sending a tearing, agonizing spike of pure will deep into her mind.
Unprepared, she staggered, and a cry of pain escaped her lips. She struggled against the invader, fighting to keep control of her own mind. What are you doing? I’m the original.
Who says that? argued the newcomer. What gives you the right? I am just like you. Live by your own command and join me instead.
The battle was silent, invisible, and far more deadly than any she had ever faced before, for the prize was her soul itself.
And she was losing. Moira was already exhausted. Weary and unfocused, she wasn’t remotely ready for such a contest at the very core of her being.
In a vast darkness she found metal bands wrapping around her, squeezing inward, an iron misery that was crushing her very existence. She felt herself growing smaller. No matter how hard she pushed, the bands wouldn’t budge and the pain grew more intense. Panic gave her strength, but it was too little and too late. The darkness was fading, becoming a bland oblivion, and she wondered if perhaps it was for the best. The pain would be someone else’s problem soon.