Sons (Book 2) (156 page)

“Boys, times up!” I shouted and turned.  They stood at the top of the stairs, each wearing a camouflage jacket with a rifle slung over one shoulder and bow and quarrel on the other.  The rifles were longer than they were tall.  They each held a knapsack by a strap, stuffed full and zipped, and in the other hand, Coulter held a carved wooden sports car and Connor had a dump truck with worn-away yellow paint on the bed.  They both had fatigue-like pants with pockets down the legs, all stuffed full.  I didn’t intrude on their selections.  “Very good.  Thanks.”

I turned back to the master bedroom and trusted that they would follow.  These two would present a different kind of challenge than the
huri
for me.  Mioreala put them almost at the
sidhe
level and Eliot’s genetics placed them fairly high on the wizard’s scale.  But magic and breeding was never a simple matter.  It wasn’t an even blending, or even a blending of the two magics that usually occurred with half-breeds.  Usually one won the battle for usefulness, but stunted in some ways with staccato tricks into the other side.  Mioreala wasn’t satisfied with that for her boys.  Somehow, she managed to keep both sides high and separate.

“…if there’s a way, Seth will find it, Lady Mioreala,” Peter said softly as we entered.  “And sometimes he makes his own ways.”

“Peter,” I said, drawling it out.  “You’ll have to pardon my brother.  He has some wild belief in my ability to pull miracles out of nowhere.”  I pointed to a spot on the floor and glared hard at the boys, then ignored them again.  “Would you like me to take anything from the house for you?”  She thought for a moment.  Considering her plight, there wasn’t much that would appeal to her.  Without Eliot to hold her, she wouldn’t return to this way of life especially in the Hinterlands.

“Could you?  The portrait in Eliot’s den?” she asked in a whisper, leaning up slightly.  Smiling, I patted her shoulder gently and turned to the boys, changing my demeanor again.

“Coulter!” I snapped.  “Fetch!  Connor, get ready to shoot.  You have less than a minute.” 

Little Brother, why are you being so mean to them?
Peter asked through our still open link.

“You handle them well, Lord,” Mioreala whispered.  “Eliot thought he was being mean and mistreating them, but Connor and Coulter are high-spirited boys and need a heavy hand at times.  And this is a hard time.”

Mioreala needed out of the Pactwards now.  “Connor, fire!” I barked.  Hearing the distant “chud” of the magically suppressed rifle, I followed the bullet’s progress through the portals at blazing speed until it blasted the
shuntok
in two, gory mass spraying in all directions.  This one flew so it covered ground more quickly.  The next several hundred flew, too.  Not that it mattered much now.  Once she disconnected from the wards, we wouldn’t have that delay anymore.

Coulter showed at the doorway, fighting to muscle a five by seven-foot painting through the door.  Peter moved to help, until Coulter glared at him and snapped, “He told me to do it!”  Peter backed off quickly, confused by the situation, especially Mioreala’s statement.

They are Wylde Fae, Pete
, I sent to him. 
With Mioreala’s health failing, their sanity is strained.  They need me to be this way and it’s only going to get worse before I bind them.

“What?” Peter shrieked, whirling around to me.

“How else do you expect them to survive in Gilán? or Faery, for the matter?” I asked him.

“And I’d sooner they died than live as half-breeds under their rule,” Mioreala snarled.  The first time something unmusical past her lips.  It was… unappealing.

I stood up beside the bed, smiling a joyless but hopeful smile.  “Pete, would you come here for a moment, please?”  Turning to meet him, I moved away and placed him where I was.  Coulter held the sheet-wrapped portrait from the side with one hand.  Connor stood beside him in what they both believed to be unreadable poses with sheer glass façades on their minds.  It was amazing the difference a few years made.  With each step I made toward them, I brought my aura along with Daybreak forward until they couldn’t stand any more, but they withstood better than I expected.

“Your father loved you,” I told them, forcibly, and watched their façades crack in a jagged line straight down the middle.  “Both of you, and he was proud of both of you.  I see that in his sacrifices, in how you live, and the fact that you
both
have a Pact Lock.  You will never forget this.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Seth,” they said in unison, very meekly.  Connor’s hand unconsciously sought Coulter’s as I spoke to them and they both suddenly looked the frightened eleven-year-olds they were.

“It is because of that knowledge that I have agreed to your mother’s request,” I continued imperiously.  “If she continues here, she’ll die.  She can’t get out without help, specifically my help for many reasons.  She won’t be able to support you while she’s recuperating.  But once I take you as mine, it will be permanent.  Mioreala is not strong enough to overtake me and you will not willingly release the connection to the Giláni.  I, Seth McClure, Daybreak, Lord of Gilán, Liege-Killer and Archdruid, accept the request of Mioreala of the Wyldes to be
Hant
to her sons, Coulter and Connor, due to her impending comatose state during recuperation. 

“You’ve done bravely and valiantly so far and now comes the really hard parts.  This is the short list of what’s going to happen.  First, Peter and I are going to launch an attack on the
shuntok
that will throw them back to their cave.  Then Peter will defend us while I release your mother and place her in the chrysalis.  This will be incredibly painful for her and distressing for you.  Once this starts, you will lose your connection with the land.  You must stay close to me or you will be lost.  Our goal will be to shove the plateau down the throats of the
shuntok
while we are escaping.  Our priority is the safety of the chrysalis and your safety.  Vengeance can come later.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Seth,” they said in unison again, tears just beginning to well up in their eyes. 

I clamped down on my aura and said in a normal tone, “I’ll give you a few minutes to say good-bye to your mother.”  Then I rushed out the door and stepped to the side, falling backward against the wall with a thump.  I would cry for them, if they couldn’t, those poor kids.

Peter followed me out a few seconds later, pushing sound barriers against the door.  “Damn, those kids are weird,” he muttered, then asked me, “Why’d you leave?”

“They’d try to be stoic if I stayed,” I said despondently.  “This way they can grieve with their mother in peace.  I only wish I could give them longer than a few minutes.”

“Oh.  That’s good, then,” Peter said, nodding and looking at his shuffling feet.  “And what’s a
Hant
?”

“It means I’m basically adopting them,” I said, sighing.  “Not much different than the rest of the faery I have.”

“So now you’ll have eleven year old twins in footies running round your room!” Peter laughed.

“Yes,” I said, nodding grimly.  “But remember that elves mature at different rates than men do.  For all I know they could have the minds of five year olds.  Time to get going.”  I sighed heavily and turned to push through Peter’s barriers.

“So soon?” Peter said, pleading for a little more time.

“Yes, Peter,” I said sullenly, breaking the barrier.  “She’s in agony.”

Glancing back at Pete, I held out my hand for him to take as I walked to Mioreala’s bed.  Connor and Coulter knelt on each side of her, each holding one of her hands and murmuring to her with tears streaming down their faces.  The energy lines of the Pactwards randomly seared jagged lines of hateful magic through her while she tried desperately to balance her own magic to hold the plateau aloft.

“It’s time,” I said, squeezing Pete’s hand and driving my aura up again.  “Mioreala, you’ll feel our attack.  Withdraw as much of yourself as you can then.  I’m sorry that it will be so painful, but it’s the only way I can come up with.”

“Pain means life, Lord,” Mioreala said sweetly.

“Boys, I need you both here,” I said pointing a few steps away.  “You will both need to grab hold of me when I get back.  Once your mother withdraws from the plateau, you will become disoriented.  I will be your anchor, but you must have physical contact until we reach Gilán.

“Now, let me show you why your mother requested a
Hant
from me,” I said and released Peter’s hand.  Time for a little High Magic of the Faery kind and that was going to let the Queens know I was in the Hinterlands.  They likely couldn’t find me or know what was done, but they’d know something was done.  But screw ‘em.  With a heavy heave of power, I pushed and pressed and twisted a huge amount of energy into reality, the patterns I’d already built, and made it be.  The repository appeared as a five-foot tall, champagne-flute-shaped, transparent, Gilán-blue gem.

We stared at it for a moment before Mioreala said, “It’s magnificent, Lord!”

“Thank you,” I said.  “I will try first to find the proper place in my realm, so that I can watch after you.  Gilán is vast and I haven’t yet had the time to survey it all.”  There were places of Wylde magic on the second and third continents that might supply the right kind of energy.  “Come on, Pete, we gotta go.”  His portal changed the air around me gently and quickly.

Suddenly we were standing on a cliff on the side of the plateau outside the border of the wards.  This was the southern side where Mioreala was weakest.  The
shuntok
were trying to burrow under the vegetation now.  I checked the charges on two lodestones and dropped them into my palm.  Handing them to Peter, I said, “Good luck,” and stepped over the precipice.  Freefall helped to clear my head but work had to be done.  Reaching out with my awareness, I pushed down and stopped myself.  The Armor surrounded me protectively.  Seeking the best sheering plane to start with that was within sight, I began the complex calculations into the next four sections on either side while I lit the surface of rock with pellets of magefire all the way up to the plateau.  This scored the surface deeply and sent any
shuntok
into a frenzy.

Landing on the edge of the plateau, I darted down the path, occasionally kicking a frenzied
shuntok
over the edge.  In the middle of the next sheering plane, I stopped and took the land down the side of the mountain as mine, moved it down an inch, then renounced it.  The whole thing slid away with a heavy roar and ended in a mighty crash with huge winds shooting up the crevasse. 

Part of me was really enjoying this wanton destruction and massive explosions.  This was just the test run.  The next one would take the rest of the mountain after Peter’s attack and ram it down this bastard’s throat.  I seized the rest of the trim around the plateau and Mioreala had withdrawn enough that I didn’t skin her anywhere.  Hopping through a portal, I stepped out onto the trail to the land bridge that constituted the pass.  The ward flared visibly nearby as magical detritus slammed into it, proving that it was malfunctioning badly.  The wind suddenly sucked down the mountain at high speed in answer to some recent change in the geography below.

“Peter, you ready?” I shouted over the wind.  Great thing about a visor is you don’t have to think about the wind.  Spying him coming in about fifty feet up, he was having as much fun as I was, even with as serious as things were.

“Ready!” he shouted as he hit the ground, exhilarated.  “You certain you don’t want these blown up, too?”

“Didn’t help last time,” I said, shaking my head.  “Let’s just destroy them and throw them back ballistically until the hole closes or they start to win.  Let’s hope against the latter.”

Peter turned dramatically into the wind and jabbed his left hand one way, fingers splayed open, and jabbed his right hand out, his fingers gnarled in a weird pattern.  He shouted something in early Italian mixed with French.  Scarlet and gold lightning filled the sky in response to Peter’s call, striking in a broad swath on the mountain across from us.  The dark clouds caused by our sudden manipulations were filling the Hinterlands for hundreds of miles.  The storm of our passing would affect Faery.  I’d hear about this.

“Wait a minute!” I objected, the words he used suddenly falling into my consciousness.  “’To be or not to be?’  That’s your spell?”

“It kept you distracted for a moment,” Peter said, grinning.  “It’s working!  Look!  Time for more.”  Wherever the lightning hit, the ground turned into thick goo, fast, too.  Peter raised his fist and more lightning of scarlet and gold railed down on the
shuntok
everywhere they sat on the mountain.  The magic passed through them and into the ground, immediately starting its transmutation on rock, dirt, and whatever else lay below the surface.

I started sheering away panels eight at a time, tossing the far side’s away but using the near side’s to build a sluice around this side of the other mountain.  As gravity started working on the goo, the
shuntok
were trapped in the growing mass, trees suddenly rootless falling with rocks without holds.  It was havoc.  Eight panels of rock sliding down and crashing followed by torrential winds.  Rocks crashing in the distance and I’m slamming more rocks into the mountain.  Damn, it’s noisy and we’re having a blast!

The last eight panels went down around the plateau in rapid succession and I split one for the last section of the sluice before the cave entrance.  Shaping them, I pushed them down into place and discarded the rest into the neighboring landscape, releasing ownership.  The goo rolled down the sluice nicely now, turning and gaining speed, churning on itself, breaking and bursting just about everything.

This had taken one minute, fourteen seconds.  “Pete!  I’ve got to go!” I shouted.  “No more than thirty seconds or I’m coming after you!”

“Go!  I’ll be there!” Peter shouted, intent on the other mountain.

I jumped a portal to the bedroom, not quite ready for what I saw.  Connor was on his back where I told him to be, crying uncontrollably for his mommy and Coulter was crawling on hands and knees, also sobbing, but for his lost daddy.  I think they were taking turns with it.  It was heart rending.

Pushing on my aura, I shouted, “Connor!  Coulter!  Snap out of it and come here now!” Mioreala was in terrible pain but still centered on her twins.  The ground shook hard even with the both of us working to steady it.  Something about the
Hant
, though, required they come to me, even if I pushed them.  “Boys!  I need you here!”  That seemed to galvanize the two of them.  Connor rolled over immediately and noticed my leg barely two feet away.  He shoved his hand to my calf and instantly sighed in relief, then hugged himself tightly to my leg.

“Coulter!  I got him, Coulter!” Connor called, scared and weak.

“Coulter! Come on, boy, I need you here!  I’ve got to help your mother now!” I called into the rumbling room.  I felt him come up behind us quickly, still crawling, and I definitely felt him latch onto my leg and shiver.  I called the Night and the boys wailed and tightened their grips on my legs.  The dragon’s tongue licked at the Pactward slowly, almost timidly, as it sniffed at the hidden magic.  But it had been in my care for too long now, and knew the Pact’s tricks.  Or maybe was taught the Pact’s tricks by the Pact itself.

Peter jumped through a portal.  “It’s getting rough out there!” he shouted joyfully.  “The goo is in the cave!”  He started pushing the chrysalis closer to us, hurrying me.  We stood at the epicenter of a massive earthquake of our own making, so I understood his rush.

Swinging the rapier at each cord of power, I caught each end going into the Fae and withered it into nothing.  The Pactwards fell after the third cut, but provided no relief to Mioreala when feedback from other lines occurred.  Seconds later, all the ward lines were removed and I was lifting her withered body magically from her bed, keeping her silk sheets with her.  The boys continued to cry and reach for their mother as I floated her through the air past them and into the chrysalis.  Once she passed through the knowe into the center cocoon, Mioreala passed out from the easing of her pain–not a total release but a stop to the torment.  It would take at least a month before she was down to sharp aches. 

The sluice had to be torn down now, so I started at the top, crumbling the side wall and tossing the debris into the trailing end of the rush of goo.  Normal lightning attacked viciously at both mountains, imparting Faery’s own angry violence to the fray and the winds all around the area tore through all the mountains around us.  Erosion took on a new and unnatural form this dark afternoon.  I encouraged all of that violence towards the goo and its destination, trying to sneak peeks through the hole in the back of the cave.

Seconds mattered now, though.  “Pete!  Time to go!” I shouted and opened two portals to Gilán.  The first one was in front of him and he shoved the chrysalis through with him.  The second opened and snapped closed around the boys’ belongings, sending them to Gilán as well.  Putting my hands on their heads to comfort them, I stared harder down at the cave, through the goo.  I wanted to see our adversary.  I wanted to know who we were fighting, what we were fighting.

My awareness broke through the cave and into the Sundered Realm.  My mind reeled as I fought to make heads or tails out of this place.  When I spotted the gout of goo, I spun around and headed for it in the distance.  I figured out the name “Sundered” very quickly.  Broken geometries were everywhere.  Landscapes poked out at odd angles, hanging awkwardly in space and showing total disregard for the physics I felt.  But I’d been playing in my cavern for weeks now and skewing things dimensionally so I could work on ideas elsewhere.  This wasn’t new.  Further, I’ve been looking up and down at energy patterns all my life.  I could just see them better now.

As I neared the gout, I could see something being battered against the stone surface opposite it but I still couldn’t see what it was.  Needed to move nearer…

No, Little Brother.  Too Soon
, I heard in a whisper.  Suddenly I was back with the boys, both scratching at my legs and drawing blood.  I shifted us.

~              ~              ~

“Let go!” I shouted, my voice echoed through my room like thunder.  Connor and Coulter reeled back on the marble floor and skittered back, crab-like.  Their eyes caught on the Worldgem behind me.  Peter stood beside it, watching silently and afraid for them.  He wasn’t even on their radar.  “This is Gilán, my Gilán.  What do you expect to happen?”  Damn, they hurt me!  Blood was dripping down my legs and I had to stare them down instead of tend to myself.

They exchanged a quick glance, then Coulter answered, “We expect to die, sir.”

I sighed.  “Why?  Do you reject me as
Hant
?”

“No, Seth!” they cried out together.

“We… just don’t want Mother coming back to see that we’ve—” Connor started, breaking into a sob and choking it off.

“That we’ve suffered the humiliation that so disgusted her,” Coulter finished stoically.

“I plan on disappointing you on both counts, then,” I said sternly.  “Stand up.”  They both quickly stood, after Coulter stumbled once, and they held each other hand to elbow to steady each other.  “There is so much you and your mother don’t know about us.  Everyone on Gilán will welcome the sons of Daybreak, without regard to their previous parentage.  Now let’s finish this.”  I held out my arms to them.  They jumped to me and hugged me tightly.  Triggering their Pactlocks, I opened personal memory caches on each of them and captured their current states.  It only took a second to save eleven years of the same place.  Then I tied them to the land and to me.  As the geas took hold, the twins blossomed in strength and power in their elven aspect.  Then the final binding, I completed the
Hant
, to bring them into my family.  Because of the
Hant
, I would supersede Eliot all the way back to birth in their minds, but that couldn’t be helped.

I set the final binding.  Connor and Coulter McClure collapsed in my arms, exhausted.

~              ~              ~

“Pete!  Help!” I whispered hoarsely, suddenly under two hundred and eighty pounds of dead weight, bulky weight.  He slipped up on my right and grabbed Connor’s shoulders before I dropped him.  We both fumbled with the boys for a moment before manhandling them up and cradling them in our arms.  Shifting us up to my bed, I called for Guitar and Gibson and said quietly, “Put him down on the bed, Pete.”

“Lord!  You’re bleeding!” Guitar shrieked, running to my side and examining my legs through the shredded pant legs.  Gibson was a twenty-foot gasp of horror running in behind him.

“What?  Oh, yes, yes, the twins,” I muttered, ripping Coulter’s shirt across the front and seeing welts beginning on his slender chest.  “Peter, undress him, quickly.  Guitar, fetch two pair of scissors to cut their pants off.  Then you can tend to my legs.  Gibson, fetch some cool water and four cups and six
Esteleum
.  Then arrange to have food delivered in half an hour, enough for ten.  Don’t let anyone in the room, though, except Ellorn and First after I invite them.”