Centyr Dominance (17 page)

Something bright was shining in Moira’s eyes, and she
screwed them more tightly shut to try and keep the unwanted light out. The
light was relentless however, until at last she was forced to cover her face
with her arm to block it out.

“She’s moving,” said a rough voice. It was a woman’s
voice, although it was hard to identify it as one it was so coarse.

Moira risked opening one eye and peaking over her
forearm to identify the speaker and was rewarded with a blaze of light that
seemed to sear straight through her brain. “Unh!” she exclaimed, shutting the
eye again.

Someone else spoke then, “She’s awake! I saw her open
her eyes.” That sounded like Gram, although his voice also sounded
uncharacteristically thick.

“Go away,” she murmured, speaking to whoever might be
within range of her voice. The effort made her head throb harder. “It
hurts.”
Ouch.
She wondered why she was so stupid as to have spoken
again, despite having learned the result with one phrase already.

“Can ya hear me lass?” That was Chad Grayson leaning
over her and speaking close to her ear. His breath was none to pleasant.

Moira rolled over and buried her face in the relative
security of her bedding—and promptly jerked her head back as she found herself
inhaling a noseful of dirt and grass. She sat upright then, sneezing and
opening her eyes more fully. Sunshine was beating brilliantly upon the
landscape all around her relatively shady position under what appeared to be a
makeshift shelter. Her head felt as though it had been stuffed with
thistledown, and when she attempted to expand her admittedly unclear magesight
she was rewarded with a throbbing surge of pain.

“Uhn,” she groaned, leaning her head forward and
covering it with her arms as though blocking the light would reduce the ache.
It didn’t. Removing the visual stimuli only increased the discomfort as her
mind focused more on her magesight. The world seemed to spin and contort, and
she immediately opened her eyes again, seeking the stability of the sunlight.

“Are you alright?” asked Gram, leaning closer. His
voice boomed, overwhelming her senses.

She put out her arms to ward him away before covering
her ears. She kept her eyes open this time, however. Everything hurt. The
world hurt, throbbing in the center of her being. Even the light was painful,
but if she shut them the nausea was worse. The light kept things steady at
least.

Eventually the others got the idea and gave her some
space, talking in softer tones from ten or fifteen feet away. Chad chuckled,
“I don’t envy her. She looks like she’s got the mother of all headaches.”

Except I didn’t do any drinking,
she
thought bitterly.

Her memories were fuzzy, so she spent a while
reconstructing what she could remember of the period of time that had led up to
her painful awakening. Frankly, a lot of it was difficult to believe, even as
it began to be evident that she hadn’t dreamed it. Gram and Alyssa were both
standing nearby, free of their parasites, so that part was definitely real.

Risking her magesight once more, she found Grace lying
on the other side of Cassandra. The effort sent new waves of nausea rolling
through her, and she struggled to keep from retching.
I overused my power.

She recognized the symptoms now. She had been through
this once before, years ago, when she and her brother had attempted to save
Gram’s father from the enchanted gate that had crushed the life out of him. It
felt even worse this time.

You almost died.

The words came in her own voice, but they were not
hers. Another presence moved in the back of her mind.
You’re still there?
she
asked.

I couldn’t be otherwise. I’m sort of
stuck here, unless you choose to make me a vessel,
responded
her spell-twin.

I thought maybe you would have faded out
while I was unconscious,
she replied unapologetically. Her
usual spell-mind constructs would fade and disappear over time unless she
provided them with a new supply of aythar every so often.

Her inner twin winced mentally,
ouch.

I’m not saying I wanted you to disappear…

…but it would have been more convenient,
her
other self finished.

Moira didn’t have a good answer to that.

On the bright side, I’ve been keeping
watch while you slept, although I have to admit it was really boring.

Keeping watch?
asked
Moira curiously.

Even though you were unconscious, I
wasn’t. There was still some excitement after you collapsed, and I can show
you everything that happened while you were out. Master Grayson was rather
heroic, actually. Other than that the last couple of days have been completely
dreary.

Dreary is better than the headache I have
right now,
thought Moira wryly.

Her other self was silent for a moment.
Well, I’m
not going to try and win at this pity-party, but I will say that being stuck
here for days unable to do anything but observe was almost maddening.

Were you truly that helpless?
wondered
Moira.
You seemed able to do plenty before I passed out.

I suppose I could have tried to make
myself a spell body or something,
said her spell-twin,
but
that might have killed you, and then where would we be?

Killed me?

It’s your aythar, your power,
explained
her mental companion.
Everything I do draws upon that. I don’t think it’s
smart to exert your power after collapsing from exceeding your limits. Do you?

“Oh, that makes sense,” muttered Moira aloud. She
regretted it when the sound of her voice increased the pain in her head.

“Moira?” asked Alyssa tentatively. “Is there anything
I can do?”

She stared at the other woman thoughtfully for a long
minute before whispering, “Tea?”

“I think there’s some in the bags,” said Gram,
grateful to have a purpose. He moved toward their supplies.

“I’ll heat some water,” offered Chad.

***

Two days passed while Moira recovered, and by then the
baron had regained consciousness as well. She sat next to him in the afternoon
sun, watching Gram and Alyssa sparring. The two warriors were the least
wounded of their party, suffering only minor damage to their voices.

Gerold’s face was lit with interest, “I’ve never seen
anyone fight like that. Are all of your warriors so skilled?”

Moira coughed, “I thought their skills came from
Dunbar. Alyssa is from here, and it was her father who taught Gram.”

The baron took another sip of water. It seemed he was
perpetually thirsty since he had awoken. Glancing at the beautiful lady beside
him, he considered his words, “We have wrestling and boxing in our yearly
games, but nothing like this. Our soldiers train with weapons and armor. If
there’s any emphasis on close fighting, it would be with knives.” He choked
for a moment, eyes going wide as Alyssa ducked into Gram’s arms, delivering a
solid blow to his sternum before dropping down and sweeping his legs.

Gram rolled away before she could land her finisher.
He was struggling to breathe. The young man got to his knees before Alyssa
leapt at him again.

A flurry of blows ensued as Alyssa assaulted him with
palms and knees, but somehow her dazed opponent warded himself from every
attack. Gram seemed to tire, however, unable to recover his wind. Wavering
for a split second, he missed one of her jabs, taking a glancing blow to his
head. Though Gram was off balance and still on his knees, Alyssa seized the
opportunity to drive a lightning fast punch toward his head with her left hand,
only to find herself spinning.

Gram had caught her wrist, pulling her forward as he
bent back, tossing her over and behind him. The exchange ended when he flipped
over and pinned her beneath him, twisting one arm back and applying his forearm
to her neck in a brutal chokehold. Alyssa growled and strained, but she had no
way of escaping.

Gram held her tightly, leaning in to bite at her ear
as he softened his choke and let his arm drift downward.

Moira looked down, smirking in simultaneous amusement,
embarrassment, and perhaps a tiny bit of jealousy. “Is that like the wrestling
in Dunbar?” she asked.

Gerold was turning red, “Our games are only between
those of the same sex, and—no, not like that.” His eyes darted back to the two
fighters, who were now engaged in a shameless display of primal affection.
“That’s just wrong. A moment ago they were fighting, now they’re kissing!”

“The annual Dunbar games might be more interesting, if
there were more matches like that,” suggested Moira with a smile.

The baron studied her for a second, captivated by the
twinkle in her eyes as he realized she was joking. Laughing, he agreed, “You
might be right.”

“I’m thirsty,” announced Alyssa suddenly, still
captive.

“Me too,” said Gram. “Let’s go fetch some water.”
The two of them left abruptly, forgetting to take the only bucket with them.

Gerold looked askance at Moira as they left, “They
aren’t even married. How long have they known each other, a few days?”

“Much longer than that,” she answered, knowingly. “In
fact, I think they’re still betrothed.”

“It sounds as if there’s a story there,” said the dark
haired baron.

“Would you like to hear it?” asked Moira.

The baron nodded, and Chad stood up a few feet away.
“I’m going to hunt,” announced the ranger.

Gerold took note, “Does their story offend you?”

“No, but while they’re off making like bunnies in the
bushes, I haven’t been laid in over a month. The last thing I need to hear is
a sappy tale of tragic romance,” replied Chad.

The massive dragon resting on the other side of the
camp spoke then, “You don’t have a bow.”

“Like I need one,” growled Chad, checking his knife in
its sheath before drawing their rope from the packs. He left then, carefully
choosing a route in the opposite direction from the one Gram and Alyssa had
taken.

***

That evening they all sat around a cheerful fire near
the lean-to. Chad had returned with a brace of young rabbits and a collection
of plants harvested from the hillside. Adding some salt from their packs and
the water that Gram and Alyssa had eventually collected, he produced a stew
that was far better than anything else they had eaten over the past few days.

Finishing his bowl and putting aside his spoon, the hunter
looked over at Gerold, “Well Baron, what will you do now? Will you return to
Lothion with us or chance returning to your home?” His accent was noticeably
subdued.

Before Gerold could answer, Moira spoke up, “We aren’t
going home yet.”

Gram nodded in silent agreement.

Chad glared angrily at Moira, “I don’t know if ye
remember all that well,
princess
, but we barely made it out of that city
alive.”

“My father is there.”

“Aye,” said the ranger, nodding, “and we can return
with an army to sort that out. Yer mother will bring every tool at her command
to bear on Dunbar to force his release. Runnin’ in there by ourselves is a
fool’s errand.”

Gram stood, “I should go alone.”

Chad gave him an incredulous look, “Last time you went
in there, boy, ye kissed the first girl to look twice at you, and a metal worm
nearly ate yer brain!”

Alyssa covered her mouth to stifle a laugh, but Gram
didn’t find the remark amusing. Lifting his tattooed arm, he spoke a soft word
and armor covered his body in glittering steel. “Not this time…”

“No, this time one o’ those metal monsters will bend
you over and shove it up yer dumb ass instead,” interrupted the ranger.

“Grace already destroyed the monster,” countered Gram.

Chad covered his face with one hand, “Yeah,
that
one
, an’ she’s still unconscious. We don’t know how many of those things
are in the city.”

Gram growled, but before he could respond Moira spoke
up, “He’s right, Gram. You don’t even remember the fight. You didn’t see what
that thing could do.”

“I won’t take my armor off until this thing is done,”
said Gram. “There’s no way…”

Moira held up a hand, “I saw it Gram. The weapon it
fired at me would destroy your armor and kill you before you even knew it had
hit you. The only reason I survived is because it missed after it destroyed my
shield.”

“And what’s your plan?” he returned, letting his
frustration seep into his words. “Go talk to the king and get thrown into his
dungeon again? I doubt he’d let you escape twice.”

Anger flared in Moira’s breast, “I wouldn’t have to
step foot inside the gate. If I wanted to I could kill every man, woman, and
child in the city without even showing my face.”
Or enslave them,
she
thought bitterly. She tossed her head, letting her hair fall back while the
firelight showed the determination in her features. “But I won’t do that; I’m
going in there to get my father.”