Centyr Dominance

The Count patted both the cook and the guardsman on the back affectionately before leading Moira on. He glanced over his shoulder apologetically, “I’d better get inside. I’ll try to catch everyone up later.”

  They didn’t make it to the main door to the keep before it flew open hard enough that Moira wondered that the hinges hadn’t torn free. Penelope Illeniel, the Countess di’Cameron, came rushing at them as though she meant to run them over. “Mort! Moira!” she shouted, her voice finding a volume that put even Doug’s previous call to shame.

  She charged into Mordecai at a speed that should have thrown him to the ground, especially considering the armor she wore, but Moira noted that her father had used his magic to brace himself before she slammed into him.

  It was clear she wanted to hold onto her husband longer, but Penny tore herself free almost immediately and turned to her daughter, clutching her with an urgency that brought tears to her father’s face. A second later she pushed her away as well, running her hands over Moira’s head, shoulders, and arms, desperately searching to make sure she was still whole.

  “Where have you been? Do you know how I’ve worried? How could you sneak off like that!?” the questions emerged in rapid-fire fashion, too fast to follow.

  “I’m fine, Mother,” said Moira, wanting to reassure her, but when she saw Penny’s face her guilt redoubled. The Countess’s eyes were red and brimming with tears, even her shoulders were trembling with shock and relief.

  “Why didn’t you send word? I could kill you! Where’s your brother?!”

  It was Moira’s turn to look surprised. She had been gone for more than three weeks. She had assumed that Matthew had returned long before then. “I thought he would be back already,” she stammered.

  Her mother’s face twisted in an expression of renewed grief, “And Gram? What of Chad Grayson? Are they with him? Where did he go?”

  “They’re both back in Halam,” said Moira lamely.

  “He’s alone!?” It was an accusation as much as a question.

  “He had his dragon with him,” Moira said, trying to explain. “We found the place where they captured Father. He wanted to investigate it further. He was supposed to come home after that—to tell you where we were going.”

  Mordecai put his arms around her mother, “Now, now, don’t fret Dear. We’ll find him tomorrow. I’ll set out in the morning…”

  The Countess thrust him back, slapping at a face he had already shielded, “No! I’m never letting the two of you out of my sight again! Do you have any idea what I’ve been through? Losing my husband twice, and this time two of my children as well?! I thought you were dead! Again! No one should suffer that—not twice!”

  A throng of servants and other castle inhabitants had gathered around them by then, along with Rose Hightower. Lady Hightower made her way to them quickly, “Where is Gram? Is my son with you?” She was as close to shouting as Moira had ever heard, although she managed to keep her voice barely within the realm of a civilized volume.

  Mordecai looked over Penny’s head, trying to give her a reassuring look, “He’s fine Rose. We left him in Dunbar, but he is in good health. You can see him tomorrow.”

  “Why didn’t he come back with you?” asked Rose.

  “Things were a bit chaotic. He’s protecting the casualties of a sudden conflict, but the danger has passed,” explained the Count. “He even found that girl, Alyssa. She was with him.”

  “The assassin?!” Rose’s voice was ascending into a pitch that in a lesser woman might have denoted outright panic.

  “Assassin?” said Mort, puzzled.

  Moira tapped him on the shoulder, “That’s something else I need to talk to you about.”

  Penny turned Moira around, pulling at her shoulder with irresistible strength, “What did your father mean by ‘a sudden conflict’?”

  She caught her father’s eye as he muttered quietly, “Shit.”

  ***

  It was many hours before Moira finally found peace again. The explanations took forever, and as soon as they were done they had to be repeated for those who hadn’t heard the first time, or understood. She wasn’t sure who got the worst of it, her, or her father. He, at least, wasn’t guilty of sneaking off unannounced, but returning from being presumably dead (for a second time), did put a lot of attention on him.

  Moira on the other hand got an extra helping of unwanted scrutiny from her mother. She struggled to keep her irritation under control and she kept having thoughts of simply adjusting her mother’s level of curiosity rather than endure the endless questioning.

  Her father glanced at her during one of those moments, perhaps sensing the sudden tensing of her aythar, as she unconsciously prepared to do something. She forced herself to relax and give him a weary smile when that happened.

  Once they got back to their hideaway home in the mountains she faced a new onslaught of questions from Irene and Conall. They seemed terribly curious about her adventures. Matthew’s absence bothered them, but once they knew she was as ignorant as they were on that matter they focused on what she had been doing.

  Just murdering half a city, she was tempted to blurt out at one point, but she knew better. Myra had also given her an additional warning to watch her words.

  When she finally climbed into bed she was certain that exhaustion would bring her sleep immediately, but that turned out not to be the case. Her mind began replaying the events of the day, particularly the questions, her answers, and what she might have said instead.

  Her magesight explored the house idly, so she knew that her parents were sitting up in bed, likely discussing her return. That piqued her own curiosity.

  Using a tiny amount of aythar she stealthily crafted a tiny creature, one that she had made many times before, usually to spy on her brother. Once it was finished she sent her tiny man to creep down the hall and listen at her parent’s door, maintaining a fine link to it so that she could hear through its ears.

  Soon enough she heard her mother’s voice, “I’ll never forgive myself if he doesn’t come back.”

  “It wasn’t your fault,” replied her father consolingly.

  “Of course it’s my fault!” replied Penny bitterly. “I was in charge. I raised him. I was here!”

  “We can’t control them forever,” said Mordecai. “Try as we might, they will eventually escape us to go out and make their own mistakes.”

  “He could be dead, lying cold on a mountainside somewhere.”

  Was she crying? Moira thought her voice sounded different.

  “He has a dragon with him, and he’s as powerful a wizard as I’ve ever met. He might be better than me. I’ll find him tomorrow,” countered Mordecai.

  “He isn’t an archmage,” said her mother. “You told me that yourself. You can do things he can’t.”

  “That’s not always a blessing, and he’s a better enchanter than I am. You should see what he’s done to Dorian’s sword. It was a crafting beyond anything I’ve ever imagined.”

  “Well he hasn’t come back, so what good has it done him?” responded Penny.

  “I don’t know, dear, but I will find our boy.”

  “We will find him. I’m not letting you out of my sight, not again, not ever,” she growled.

  “Moira will need to return to Dunbar tomorrow. There’s much to be sorted out there. Which one of us do you plan to go with?” asked her father in a reasonable tone that Moira thought he should have known better than to attempt.

  “Dunbar can go hang!” spat Penny savagely. “They’ve done enough to us already.”

  “Gram is still there,” Mordecai reminded her. “They will need your guidance. Someone with authority to speak for Cameron should be there with them.”

  “Then we’ll all go…”

  “Do you really want me to wait before tracking him down?”

  “Godsdamn you, Mort!”

  Her father chuckled, “They’ve tried, many times.”

  “This isn’t a joke! Do I look amused t
o you?”

  “No, but there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”

  Her mother’s voice grew wary, “What now?”

  “How did Moira look to you?” he asked her.

  He suspects! thought Moira. She sat upright in bed, as though that might help increase her ability to hear.

  With her magesight she saw her father’s head turning and she felt a faint pulse. He was examining the area as well. He noticed me sitting up, or did he spot my eavesdropper? She lay down once more, hoping that would ease his suspicion.

  A privacy shield rose around the two of them and Moira could no longer see them, nor could her helper hear what they were saying. She clenched the sheets in her fists in frustration. Surely he didn’t know, he couldn’t possibly, but what were they talking about?

  It was hard sleeping after that, but exhaustion eventually took her away.

  Chapter 28

  “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 h
ave 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.