The Silent Tempest (Book 2)

  “So what happens now?” asked Tyrion.

  “Nothing,” said the Prathion. “The debate still goes on. Some refuse to be convinced, but with each victory your children produce, they demonstrate their superiority to our slaves. That is proof that our methods of keeping your people were not only improper, but that we were harming them, making them worse rather than better.”

  “Of course,” said Tyrion with a sarcastic chuckle, “the answer is always more killing. Haven’t the She’Har had enough blood?”

  “We have not won the argument yet,” said Thillmarius sadly. “I think time is enough now, but until the elders of the other groves concede, there will continue to be matches. Every fight your children win makes the case for humanity even stronger.”

  “If nothing has changed, why are you telling me this?” said Tyrion bitterly. “Do you think it will make me think better of you? I still despise you.”

  “No,” said the lore-warden. “But I thought it might give you hope, and from what I have seen, hope is a better motivator for your people than fear could ever be.”

  Tyrion smoothed his features, trying to hide his anger once more. “I will think on your words. Logic will rule my actions for the sake of my children, but I will not lie to you Thillmarius, my heart will always ache to burn you and your people to ash.”

  Chapter 32

  Before the next arena day had arrived, both Piper and Blake awakened to their powers. It worried Tyrion because they had barely two days to learn the basics before their blooding matches, but as it turned out he needn’t have worried. His other children were united in their dedication to make sure that Piper and Blake were as ready as possible, and while both of them were emotionally marked by their first kills, they survived without incident.

  The others performed well in their fights. Even Ian, who had embarrassed them so badly the week before, managed his match without difficulty, remaining focused on winning rather than his ‘other’ proclivities.

  Ryan demonstrated his cleverness during his fight, showing even more confidence than before and controlling his fight from start to finish, but Brigid’s match was the most spectacular of the bunch. She was fully recovered now, and her strength and the intensity of her focus enabled her to take her opponent apart with brutal efficiency.

  By the end of the day there was no doubt, Tyrion’s children had eliminated the other competitors without giving the opposition even the illusion that they might prevail.

  He was glad they had succeeded, but their success made him even more apprehensive. He knew from personal experience what happened once the She’Har thought the matches were too easy. The young men and women of Colne were learning rapidly, and their constant practice with each other, alongside their uncommon strength, meant their skill was increasing at a much greater pace than Tyrion’s had.

  At this rate it won’t be long before they want them to face more than one foe at a time.

  They were strong enough for that, of that he had no doubt, but the dynamics of fighting while outnumbered were different. Such fights required strong tactics and most importantly, immense confidence. Risks had to be taken. Losing the initiative in such a situation would result in the enemy combining against the outnumbered mage, and that would likely prove fatal.

  Brigid was the only one he could be sure would win against such odds. The others were still developing their nerve and determination.

  But he could give them advantages he had never had.

  “From tomorrow on we will be changing the schedule. In the mornings you will break into five groups—three groups of three, and two groups of two. The groups of two will work on one on one tactics, while the groups of three will practice with one against two. Layla will be supervising as usual, and she will participate in one of the groups to help you get better used to Prathion tactics.” Tyrion was addressing them around the evening fire as they rested after their day in the arena and digested the contents of a heavy meal.

  David raised his hand, and Tyrion nodded for him to speak. “Begging your pardon, sir, but why two on one? The arena matches are always one on one.”

  “Normally that is true,” he responded, “but while I was fighting in the arena they decided to change things when it appeared that my fights were no longer challenging. I had to fight two at once, and by the end of my time I was routinely battling four at a time.”

  Piper sat at the end of one of the wooden logs, and her eyes were still haunted by the memory of her first kill. Tyrion’s words alarmed her, “Four?!”

  Emma remained practical in her outlook. “It makes sense I suppose,” she sighed. “We’ll just have to work harder to make sure we have the skill to manage it.”

  Tyrion gestured toward Brigid. “You have many things that I lacked. Training was unheard of then, and I was without even the most basic knowledge that those raised in Ellentrea already had. You have my experience and each other to practice with and learn from. I will also give you the tattoos that you see on Brigid’s arms, those and more.” He waved his hand downward, indicating the rest of his body. “The enchantment created by these tattoos will give you defenses that no ordinary mage can hope to pierce, except with weapons created by similar magic.” He activated the force blade enchantment along one of his arms.

  “These will make you nearly invincible, but you must use them sparingly. Draw the fights out and make them seem harder than they are, otherwise they will be pitting you against more than one opponent sooner rather than later,” Tyrion explained.

  Ryan whistled appreciatively, and David’s eyes lit with anticipation, but Abby frowned. “Do we really have to mark ourselves with such garish symbols?”

  Tyrion started to reply, but Brigid broke her silence and spoke first, “If you want to live, Abigail, then yes, you need them.” Brigid rose from her seat, her slender form casting long shadows in the firelight as she spoke with intensity, “We need every weapon possible. Someday we will face more than just weak slaves, and it takes powerful blades to cut through She’Har spellweaving.”

  Some of the others looked uncomfortable at her mention of the She’Har, but they didn’t object. All of them had fought now, even if they didn’t like the prospect. Tyrion chose then to interrupt, “Let us not speak of such things in open air, for now we need only focus on making you stronger. After the morning practices, I will spend the afternoons working with you one by one to complete the same tattoos that I have on me now. Everyone else will work with Ryan to complete the expansions to the new outbuildings. You must each learn the rudiments of enchanting, so that you can bind and strengthen the stones the same way I have done with my house.”

  They talked for a while longer, but when everyone grew tired and began to seek their beds Ryan approached him again. “When will we be able to send the wagon to Colne?” He was anxious to make contact and begin trading. Tyrion suspected he also hoped to see his parents.

  “We can’t yet,” said Tyrion. “The collars make it impossible until Lyralliantha returns. She can set them to allow for travel.”

  “Can’t you just…,” Ryan gestured with his fingers as if he were holding a pair of scissors, “…snip, snip.”

  Tyrion sighed, “I could, but then you would be at risk again until you returned. I would also have to make more excuses to Byovar and hope that he would do me the favor of putting a new one on you before the next arena day.”

  “You don’t have one anymore,” pointed out the boy.

  He nodded, “I’ve been given a special privilege, and my hope is that someday you will all be able to be free of them, but that is not today.”

  “We really need a lot of things from there,” prodded Ryan.

  Tyrion took a different course, “I know you’d like to see your parents, Ryan, but have you thought of the other news you would have to deliver if you went?”

  The young man’s face was confused for a moment before sudden realization struck him, “You mean Gabriel, and…”

  “…Haley, and Jack,??
? finished Tyrion.

  “We don’t have to tell them right away,” suggested the boy.

  “I’ve told enough lies,” said Tyrion. “It would be cruel to keep them in the dark.”

  “It will be cruel to tell them.”

  He shook his head negatively, “No, I’ve been down that road, better to get it out sooner. Let them grieve and move on.”

  Ryan opened his mouth and then closed it again, trying and failing to find a suitable response.

  “I will make a trip this week, alone if necessary,” said Tyrion. “That way I can bear the ill news. You and Tad can make the next trip, assuming Lyralliantha has returned and will set your collars as I hope she will.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Ryan, not bothering to conceal his disappointment.

  ***

  Two days later Tyrion made the trip to Colne, but he did not go alone. Kate rode beside him on the driver’s seat. She watched the trail ahead of them anxiously as the roof of her old home gradually rose into sight.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” asked Tyrion for perhaps the dozenth time.

  She nodded affirmatively even as she answered, “No, but I need to see my son.”

  “I could come in with you,” he offered yet again.

  “That wouldn’t help. Go to town, take care of your business.” She turned to give him a stern look, “And please, please, don’t murder anyone.”

  He held up his hands, “I didn’t hurt anyone last time.”

  “Only because…,” her words cut off suddenly as she saw her son, Aaron. He was hiking up the trail carrying water to the house. The boy spied her at almost the same time, dropping the bucket and running toward them.

  Tyrion watched Kate’s face as it lit with joy, her eyes already welling with tears as she climbed down from the seat. “You don’t have to come back with…”

  “You be here,” she told him firmly. “If you try to leave without me, I’ll just walk back. I know where you live now.”

  He nodded but her attention was not on him any longer, Aaron had reached her, and the two of them were hugging fiercely. After a moment, the boy looked up at him from his mother’s shoulder, glaring daggers in his direction.

  Tyrion looked away and flicked the reins to get the horses moving again. He ignored the boy’s stare. Don’t waste your time kid, he thought, I’ve been hated by those far better at it than you.

  A little more than an hour later he rolled into Colne. The first people to recognize him got off the street quickly, shutting themselves inside their houses. A few children ran, warning others. Within minutes the town looked almost deserted, or it would have, if he hadn’t been able to sense the townsfolk huddling in their homes.

  Tom Hayes waited in front of his store. Tyrion had to give him credit for his courage.

  “How is Tad?” asked Tom. Alice was coming out now, to stand beside her husband.

  Tyrion dipped his head in greeting. “Your son is well. His magic has awakened. He will be a powerful mage.”

  “Is he getting enough to eat?” put in Alice.

  “Actually,” began Tyrion, “That’s why I’ve come today.”

  “If you keep robbing me, I’ll have to close the store,” said Tom bitterly. “We’re already in debt to every farmer and tradesman for miles around.”

  “I am not insensitive to your plight,” said Tyrion. “I’ve brought iron to trade, enough to make amends for what I’ve cost you in the past, and more besides.”

  “Iron?” said Alice curiously.

  “We normally trade with Lincoln to get iron,” declared the storekeeper.

  Tyrion pulled back the canvas that hid the bed of the wagon, displaying neat rows of heavy iron bar stock. The weight of it was such that the wagon was only half loaded, otherwise the horses would have been unable to draw the wagon. Tom’s eyes widened slightly.

  “That’s more than Colne could use in a year. What would you have me do with it?” complained Tom.

  “It was Tad’s suggestion,” Tyrion informed him. “Rather than trading Lincoln for iron, you could trade iron to them. They have a far greater need for it he tells me.”

  “That would upset the miners there, not to mention the foundry,” said the store keeper, rubbing his chin. “How much of this do you have?”

  As much as you want, thought Tyrion. The earth is full of it. “I could get more easily. Cut stone would be simple to acquire as well, but transporting it is even more burdensome.”

  “We don’t see much demand for stone around here,” said Tom, but his face was thoughtful.

  “That might change if it were cheap and in good supply,” hinted Tyrion.

  Tom bobbed his head, “That might be. Come inside and let’s discuss it. I assume you’ve brought a list of what you need?”

  Tyrion smiled and patted his chest, his list was folded and tucked inside his leather armor.

  The three of them talked for almost an hour. He spent some of that time reassuring both of them that their son was doing well, the rest of it was used to discuss their business plans. Tom and Alice were in a considerably better mood by the time they finished.

  “I’ll organize the shipment,” said Tom, rubbing his hands together. “It will take at least five wagons, but I think I can borrow enough to handle it. I have some things on hand that you want, but the rest will have to wait.”

  “Thank you for bringing word about Tad,” added Alice. She and her husband smiled at one another for a moment.

  They realize I’m going to make them rich.

  A knock on the door distracted them then. Mona Evans stood outside, looking anxious. Alice spoke to her briefly, trying to discourage her from entering, but the woman forced her way inside.

  “Where is my son? Is he alive?” demanded Gabriel’s mother once she spotted Tyrion.

  He rose and walked toward her, noting the trembling in her hands as he drew near. She’s scared to death, but even that’s not enough to keep her away, marveled Tyrion. “Your son is dead,” he told her sadly.

  “No!” said Mona softly, her mouth forming an ‘o’ as her eyes widened. Her voice rose gradually in pitch as she spoke, “That’s not true. Tell me it’s a lie. He’s fine. You said you would protect them.”

  He could tell she was on the verge of hysteria, but he didn’t know what else to say. “He died protecting his sister,” he told her. And she died protecting her sister.

  Her knees buckled, and Mona started to fall, but he caught her. Crying, she pushed his hands away. “No, don’t touch me! Murderer! My poor Gabriel, you’ve killed him.” Regaining her balance, she backed away.

  Tyrion let her go, but he followed her to the door. His magesight had already shown him the gathering crowd in the street. It was a small group of people, mainly the parents of the other children. Stepping onto the porch, he spotted Greta Baker among them.

  Raising his voice he addressed them before the muttering could become shouts, “Your children are fine. They are eating and surviving.” His eyes fell on Greta. “You should come inside Mrs. Baker, I have terrible news for you.”

  The others moved back from her, as though she might have an illness they could catch, although their eyes were filled with pity.

  She took the news with more grace than Mona had, but she still left weeping.

  A few hours later the wagon was loaded with the small sundries that the store had been able to provide. Tom had promised regular deliveries to be met at the edge of the foothills every two weeks. The place they had arranged to meet was only a few miles from Albamarl.

  Alice put her hand on Tyrion’s arm before he climbed into the seat, and he looked at her in surprise. Few people in Colne were willing to risk such a gesture.

  “Take care of Tad, please,” she implored him.

  “You can come with your husband,” said Tyrion, “when he makes the delivery. Tad will be there, but I can’t promise anything for the future. Life among the She’Har is deadly.”

  Alice blinked, nodded, and then
looked away.

  “Tell the others too,” added Tyrion. “I’ll make sure they can see them, briefly at least. Either that or I can give them the news if…”

  Tom interrupted, “Don’t say it. I’m going to assume they’re fine. If something happens, we’ll deal with the news then.”

  “Don’t forget about Mona and Greta…,” began Tyrion.

  “I won’t,” said Tom, cutting him off. “They’ll be taken care of.” Tyrion had arranged to have some of the credit for their trade agreement set aside for the families of the children he had taken.

  There was no more to say after that, so he climbed up and began driving the wagon back toward Seth Tolburn’s house. The sun was low in the sky, but he had no intention of spending the night in Colne. Or at Seth’s house either, he thought.

  Kate was sitting on the porch with her son when he pulled up in the front yard of the Tolburn house. She hugged Aaron once more and kissed him on the head before walking down the steps and rejoining Tyrion at the wagon. The two of them waved incessantly until the wagon had gone far enough down the trail that they lost sight of the house.

  They rode in silence while Kate wiped away tears.

  “You didn’t have to…”

  “Stop, Daniel, just stop. I don’t need your constant reminders.”

  He shrugged hopelessly, “But Seth…”

  “Is half the reason I left,” she finished for him.

  He glanced her way, “I thought you left because of Brigid.”

  “That was half of it too,” she agreed, “and you were the other half.”

  “That’s three halves,” he pointed out.

  “You know what I mean,” she growled, wiping again at her red eyes. “Don’t be difficult.”

  Tyrion didn’t say anything for a while after that. Kate dried her eyes and seemed better, but as the sun dropped farther in the sky she began to weep quietly. Reaching out with one arm, he pulled her closer.

  “I’m a terrible woman,” said Kate.