Centyr Dominance (27 page)

“Is that Thorn?” he asked, looking puzzled. “What’s
happened to it? That’s not the enchantment I put on it…”

Gram grinned, “Matthew made some improvements.” He
demonstrated by making the sword shift forms, from great sword to one hander
and shield.

The Count’s eyes widened as Thorn flew apart and reassembled
with extra pieces of metal appearing from empty air to complete the shield.
“That’s marvelous! And your armor, did he do that as well? Where is the metal
coming from? I don’t recognize the magic at all.”

“The armor is part of the sword’s enchantment,” said
Gram. “I don’t understand how it works, of course. Matthew calls it
‘translation’.”

Mordecai nodded, “That was the trans-dimensional magic
he was working on. He showed me a pouch he designed a while back with it.” He
shook his head, “My son has surpassed me.”

Moira felt a pang of envy.
Meanwhile your daughter
has become a monster.
She tried to suppress the dark feelings welling from
her heart as she changed the subject, “We should rejoin the others.”

Her father nodded again, “You’re right. Let me clean
this up first. This building still holds many more of those creatures.” He
turned to face the rubble that remained of the Earl of Berlagen’s once
beautiful city home. Closing his eyes he grew silent.

Moira didn’t sense any aythar moving, but her
magesight felt the movement beneath them. The earth was shifting and hot magma
was moving upward, summoned from deep below. Halam wasn’t located near any
active volcanoes, but that apparently didn’t matter. The molten rock came at
her father’s silent command.

The air grew hot as it bubbled up, swallowing the
collapsed stone walls and causing the timbers scattered within the wreckage to
burst into flames. Smoke and ash billowed forth and yet the fire that rose
with it didn’t spread. Minutes passed and then the lava subsided. The ruins
would likely continue to smoke for days but she could sense that the magma
beneath them had stopped moving and begun to subside.

She and Gram rode Cassandra, but Mordecai elected to
fly on his own beside them. He seemed to enjoy it, looping around them through
the air effortlessly, moving as gracefully through the air as a dolphin might
in its native seas.

His manner grew somber once they passed beyond the
city and flew over the bloodied plain; his flight lost all trace of its former
playfulness as he saw the thousands lying dead below. Gerold and Alyssa waved
to them, they had been exploring, searching the faces of the dead. Moira
didn’t see Chad, but her magesight found him easily enough, sitting where they
had left him. He appeared to be fiddling with the arrows he had recovered,
probably seeing which ones were worth salvaging and which were beyond repair.

Cassandra landed near the Baron and Alyssa, taking
care not to step on the bodies, although there were so many it was difficult.
Mordecai drifted down to a spot beside Alyssa.

She dipped her head respectfully, curtsying briefly
when she recognized the Count, “Your Excellency, it is good to see you are well
and in good health.”

Gerold looked on with curiosity, “Count?”

Alyssa responded, “This is Moira’s father, the Count
di’Cameron.”

The Baron’s face blanched with shock and he hastily
dipped his head and gave a quarter bow, precisely the correct show of deference
to show a senior member of a foreign peerage, “It is good to make your
acquaintance, Your Lordship. I could wish that we had met under more favorable
circumstances.” He gave Alyssa a meaningful glance.

“Oh!” she said, remembering her manners. “Your
Excellency, allow me to introduce his Lordship, the Baron Ingerhold of Dunbar.”

Mordecai smiled mildly, “Thank you, Alyssa.” There
were even more questions in his eyes as he looked at her. He had last seen her
in Castle Cameron, before her abrupt departure, and he had yet to learn of her
other transgressions.

Gram moved to stand protectively beside her, his
posture making it clear that whatever had passed between them, he had accepted
her return.

The Count made silent note of Gram’s stance as he
addressed Gerold formally, “I am happy to meet you, Baron Ingerhold. I also
wish it could have been during better times. Allow me to extend Lothion’s
sympathies for what has obviously been a very trying time for your countrymen.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” said Gerold. “Despite
the tragedy, I must tell you that your daughter’s actions saved a great many
people today. These deaths are the responsibility of the strange creatures
that lately attempted to gain control of my country.”

“Please, call me Mordecai,” said the Count. “If it is
permissible, I would extend whatever aid to your people that we can. Lothion
has long desired to improve its relationship with Dunbar. Though these are
trying times, perhaps we can make some good come of this.”

“Call me Gerold then,” agreed the Baron, “and I will
consider it an honor. Do you speak for the Queen of Lothion?”

Mordecai shook his head, “I do not, but I know her
well. I am certain that once she learns what has transpired here she will wish
to do everything possible to give aid to your people.”

Gerold nodded, “I would that I had the power to accept
your offer, but my king is dead. I will have to confer with my peers.”

“Gerold!” said Moira menacingly. “You should consider
your position more carefully.”

Her father looked askance at her, “Don’t be rude. Is
there something we should know?”

“Gerold has shown himself to be a champion of his
people,” she said confidently. “They will clamor for him to take the throne.”

“They appear to be sleeping at the moment,” said Mort,
noting the living but unconscious people scattered among the dead.

“I am not in line for the throne,” added Gerold.

“Father,” interjected Moira, “This is something we
should talk about privately.”

“There seems to be a lot of that,” noted Mordecai.
“Let’s go home. We can discuss it there and start organizing some help for
these people. I’m sure Penny is worried about us too.”

The baron was surprised, “It will take weeks to get to
Lothion.” He glanced at Cassandra then, rethinking his statement, “Or days at
least.”

“On dragon-back—probably, although I think I could do
better than that. Either way, flying won’t be necessary,” said Mordecai.
Turning to Moira he asked, “Have you already set up a circle, or do we need to
make one?”

Moira looked away, embarrassed, she had known this
question was coming, “I haven’t made one.”

Her father nodded, “Well, no better time than now.
I’d suggest making one that links to the large circle in the castle courtyard
so we can move more people, plus we can make a large one for the return to
bring supplies and such.”

She had been hoping he would make it. “Actually, I
don’t remember the key for it.”

Mort frowned, “I had you memorize it.”

“I forgot.” Moira’s ears were burning and her anger
began to return.

“I’ve told you how important it is to learn them. If
you had forgotten it, you should have refreshed your memory before making a
trip so far from home. What did you plan to do if there was an emergency…?”

Her eyes were on one of the corpses nearby. If she
had known the circle keys she could have returned home at any point, and come
back with help. She wouldn’t have had to work alone, or done some of the
things she had done. A lot of people might not have died. “There was an
emergency,
Father,
” she replied bitterly. “I did the best I could.
Perhaps you’d rather I…”

No! Moira stop, don’t!

That was Myra, warning her to mind her tongue once
again. She had been about to suggest she could have left her father in the
stone if he didn’t like her solution. Despite the advice, she struggled to
contain her temper.

Mordecai’s face softened, “Forgive me. You’ve been
through a lot. I’ll make the circle, but I want you to watch.” He began
walking, looking for a sheltered place to create the sizeable teleportation
circle.

When Moira and her father reappeared they were
standing in what had come to be known as the ‘transfer house’. It was a large
barn-like structure in the courtyard of Castle Cameron, built to house the
various teleportation circles. They had learned during a prior war that
keeping them in the castle proper was a bad idea, since a magically gifted
enemy that discovered the keys to one of them, or found a working circle that
connected to one of them, would then have access to their stronghold.

Given the risk, the transfer house was guarded around
the clock.

She couldn’t remember the full name of the man that peered
at them in astonishment, but she knew his first name was Doug.

“My Lord!” shouted the guardsman as recognition
appeared on his features. Before either of them could react he ducked out the
door and shouted at the guard stationed there, “Jerod! The Count and Moira
have returned, run and tell the Countess!” At no point did his voice drop
below what could reasonably considered ‘bellowing’.

“Shit,” said her father, smiling at her. “You know
what will happen now.”

Moira wasn’t really sure on that count. She and her
brother had left under cover of darkness, and while she had been there when her
father had returned from his year as a monster, she had no idea whether her
mother would be angry or relieved when she saw her.
Probably both,
she
thought.

“Matthew and I left without telling her,” she informed
her father.

Mort raised one brow, “Oh. This will be very
interesting.” He took her hand and led her out into the waning daylight.

Claude, the chief cook for the castle stood outside
beside Doug, watching them expectantly as they emerged. The heavy basket he
carried meant he had probably been collecting herbs for the kitchen. “My
lord!” he exclaimed every bit as loudly as Doug had a moment before, dipping
his head in a rare gesture of fealty. Mordecai normally forbade the
inhabitants from bowing and curtsying on a daily basis, but long absences were
different. “Lady Moira,” added the cook a second later.

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 to 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.