The Sword (7 page)

After a while, a glow above the outer wall off to the side caught her attention. Studying it, she finally figured out what it was. Amazed, Kelly watched as a
second
moon gradually rose, smaller than the first one shining its bluish light down from overhead, but clearly a moon that was three-quarters full. Switching her gaze back and forth between the two moons, Kelly didn't give any further thought to any mekhada-whatsits the brothers might have missed. Those two moons were far more fascinating, and in a way far more alarming, than anything black and scuttly that an invisible wall was clearly protecting her from.

She really
was
in another universe, on another world. She was, as the people of her world liked to say, definitely
not
in Kansas anymore. Glancing at the orb in her hands, glowing like a third, even more tangible moon, Kelly Doyle did her best to come to grips with what had happened to her.

 

T
hankfully, someone had thought to open the upper windows of the donjon to let out the thick, roiling black smoke. Morganen, Dominor, and Evanor supported Koranen both physically and with metaphysical energy, as he concentrated his fire-based magic on his task. Saber, Trevan, Rydan, and Wolfer contained the beasts within a sphere-shaped shielding that kept the bugs in but allowed air and smoke to pass out, to keep from smothering the searing white core Koranen had created at the center of the hall.

It was unnerving, watching those mekhadadaks snap and snarl and devour the rodents, snakes, and insects being compressed within, growing larger and dumping new versions of themselves. Within an uncomfortably short stretch of time, it was mostly mekhadadaks, and very shortly after that, just the warped carrion-eaters alone.

A pity they will not simply eat each other,
Saber thought, holding his quarter slice of the sphere-shield steady. The original version would only breed once a year, unless a more than adequate food supply was on hand. Such as on a battlefield. They also lived only two years. These things bore young anytime they ate ten times their own body-weight, once their central bodies were as thick as a man's fisted hand and their legs longer than that by a hand's length.

A mekhadadak would eat anything that moved and caught its vision, heading straight for it while it moved and relying on its sense of smell when it got within a yard or two to tell it if it were actually edible meat or something indigestible, like a curtain swaying in the breeze. The fact that they were silent even while they burned, unlike the hisses and shrieks their more vocal prey had issued while being devoured or burned, was unnerving. Saber grimaced, watching the immolation as he held his part of the shielding.

Gods, I hate mekhadadaks! I'd love to know which bastard keeps sending them to us. And now we have a woman on the isle, a magicless one with no clue as to what's dangerous or safe in this world, to worry about, too.

Rydan had nodded at him when he arrived, reassuring him silently that the woman hadn't moved from the ward-circle he had cast around her, that she was still safe and unharmed. Not that Saber really cared if she was or not. He couldn't allow himself to care. Whether or not her viewpoint on the meaning of his Curse was more accurate than his own, he couldn't, daren't allow any woman to stay long enough to risk bringing that foretold disaster down upon them all.

It didn't help that he lived in a universe where disasters foretold by true Seers had a bad habit of coming true.

I will
not
fall in love with her. She isn't even my type.
Of course, it would help if he could remember
what
his type was. That was what happened to a man after three years of involuntary celibacy.
She's sharp-tongued, screams too much, and doesn't even dress properly—no, don't think of how she's not dressed!

Firming his attention, he held the sphere until Koranen finally ended the burning hot fire at the center of their sphere. The second youngest of them slumped into the waiting arms of three of his brothers, the white-hot fire dying out at the same time. Saber nodded, and his brothers lowered their linked shield. Only the finest white powder drifted down to the floor from the incineration site, and not much of that. Koranen had been well named, when the Prophecy had labeled him the Son that was Flame.

“I'll get him some food,” Evanor offered, heading for the kitchen.

“Trevan, Wolfer, sweep the woods outside tomorrow. Rydan, scry through the night, make certain we missed nothing. And keep the wall shields up all night, until we can sweep the land outside during the daylight.”

Dominor smiled slightly, but not out of humor. “I suppose we'll be cleaning the castle, next? Doing all the dusting, sweeping, cobwebbing, and polishing to please our guest?”

About to suggest that himself, Saber stiffened his resolve. “No. If she wants her chamber cleaned, she can do it herself. Get to work on getting her out of here as soon as you can, Morganen. She doesn't belong here.”

Leaving the others, he strode out of the great hall. When he reached the courtyard, the woman Kelly of Doyle was still standing there, indecently clad in those charred, loose trousers and that ripped, singed tunic-shirt of hers, instead of a proper skirt and blouse, or a gown. She was idly rolling and shifting the lightglobe someone had fetched for her from hand to hand, lost in whatever thoughts had occupied her in the intervening time. She looked skinny and strange. And yet she wasn't an ugly female. Even Saber couldn't lie about that.

Her head snapped up as he moved into the globe's field of light, spotting his approach.

“Saber? Are they all gone?”

At least she wasn't hysterical anymore. “They're gone. I will take you back to your room.”

“Are you
sure
they're gone?” she asked.

“I swept your chambers myself.” He turned on his heel and headed back toward the palace.

“Hey!”

Saber stopped and looked back at her. She was still standing in the chalk circle. She hadn't followed him as he'd expected.
Women. They're too damn contrary! Especially this one. Gods, get her out of here quickly!
“What?”

Kelly folded her arms more tightly across her chest. “You didn't say I could come out and play, you know. You said I had to stay right here until you told me otherwise.”

She's actually obeying?
Saber found himself arching a brow at that. “Are you asking my permission to move?”

She lowered her golden-copper brows and hefted the glowing ball in her hand, narrowing her eyes in menace. “Do you want me to bean you with this?”

There was the temper of the virago he remembered, though he wasn't sure what beans had to do with her threatening to throw the lightglobe at him. Truth was, he had forgotten she could not dispel the simple warding spell on her own, like any of his brothers could. Three years was a long time to be away from those who didn't also possess the gift of magic in one form or another. He snapped his fingers. “You can move, now. But if you hit me with that—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know; you'll do something gruesome to me, or chain me up in the dungeon or something,” she muttered, stepping over the circle and making her way past the weeds growing up through the flagstones. “Warn me if we have to pass any broken glass. I didn't exactly have time to look for myself on the way down here, and you guys certainly aren't the poster boys for Housekeepers of the Year.”

“Is that your way of asking to be carried?” Saber demanded, glaring at her for being such a nuisance.

“That's my way of asking if there was any glass, to avoid bloodying my damned feet!” she snapped back. “I don't think you have anything to worry about, regarding that Prophecy, Mister Grumpy. No woman in her right mind would fall for a surly ass like you!” She stomped past him, heading for the bulk of the castle to look for a door—then hissed and hopped on one foot. “Ow, dammit!”

“What is it? Glass?” Saber asked, instantly at her side. He didn't think any glass had been broken and scattered this far out into the courtyard, though some of the palace windows had cracked with neglected age long ago, and none of the brothers had repaired anything beyond what was absolutely necessary since their arrival.

“No, it's a thistle thorn! You're lousy groundskeepers, too!” She let him balance her, as she cradled the lightball in one hand and picked the thorn out of her toe with the other, her heel braced on her thigh with limber dexterity.

“Well, I am not weeding the whole damned courtyard just to satisfy Your Pickiness!” he shot back, concern adding an extra edge to his tone. She dropped her foot and limped forward, pointedly ignoring him. He let out a disgusted sound and picked her up, swinging her over his shoulder again. “The faster I get you back, the faster I can be rid of you!”

“Well, why don't you run, then?” Kelly demanded sarcastically, gritting her teeth from the bruises on that side of her body. There were plenty of others elsewhere, but did he have to slam her face down over his shoulder and hit the ones on her stomach again?

Unfortunately he took her seriously. By the time they got up to the room she had been placed in before, Kelly could barely breathe from all the painful jouncing. He dumped her on the bed, and she curled in on her stomach, eyes squeezed shut.

Saber, turning to leave, looked back at her. She was lying on her side, her bottom lip once again pinched in her teeth, her expression lit at an awkward angle from the lightglobe she had dropped on the bedding next to her. “What, for the love of Jinga, is wrong now?”

“I was being
sarcastic
about you running, you idiot,” she managed tightly. “After having a ceiling beam drop on me and God knows what else, and your rough handling before, you think I
wanted
more bruises and pain?”

Torn between irritation at her scolding and anger at his compassion for her, Saber glared at her, whirled, and stalked out. Slamming the door behind him.

When her stomach stopped hurting enough to breathe easily once again, Kelly crawled off of the bed and went around rapping on the crystalline lights—now that she knew how to activate them—until the room was well lit against any missed insects or gobbly bugs. Nothing moved but herself and the occasional breeze-wafted cobweb, though; Saber and his brothers had been very thorough. Not very clean where the grime was concerned, but very crawly things thorough.

It would have to do.

He had also brought her a fair amount of food to eat earlier, Kelly discovered when she investigated the dome-covered platter that had been set on a chest near the door. No silverware, but there was a mug of something that looked and smelled like stout ale, and a plate piled with cooked vegetables, shredded meat, and half a loaf of delicious-smelling, garlic-buttered, toasted bread. Whole wheat, plus rye and oat flours, she decided from the look and the smell.

Ducking into the bathroom, she washed her hands, flapped them to air-dry, and returned to eat. The medieval society had taught her how to eat gracefully with her fingers, thankfully. The lack of silverware was merely an annoyance, not an actual problem.

It had also taught her to be adventurous and open to new experiences, when it came to her taste buds. The herbs and spices used were partially familiar, partially unfamiliar, giving the otherwise plain meal an exotic edge. The meat tasted like duck, which she'd had once for Christmas, years ago when her parents had still been alive, and had been flavored with savory, sweet basil, and something peppery that wasn't quite pepper. And while she wasn't normally very fond of beer or ale, the stout Saber had brought up from the kitchens of this place did have a nutty flavor to it that was kind of appealing when she sipped it.

The hot foods had cooled, but were still flavorful. She couldn't finish it all, though, and had to replace the cover. Her stomach was too small these days to handle such a sudden wealth of calories. Wisely, Kelly didn't eat as much as she wanted to; that way, she didn't make herself sick. The leftovers would still be under the bowl Saber had picked out for a lid whenever she grew hungry again, though she would have to ask him about refrigeration and preservation spells.

When she used the refreshing room again, wanting to wash her hands, Kelly first cautiously checked every corner and nook. Only then did she relax enough to wash up, rub her teeth with a bit of thoroughly rinsed cloth, since she lacked a toothbrush, and retire for the night. Not even a tiny bed mite disturbed her, as she stretched out on the somewhat lumpy, feather-stuffed mattress.

She couldn't sleep, even with one of the globes glowing at half-strength. Of course, she'd had half a night's sleep before the fire, and half an afternoon's sleep after her arrival, though not quite enough to make up for her over-exhausted, underfed, now-sated state. It was the thought of more creepy-crawlies coming back that kept the redhead awake. And awake. And still awake.

Giving up an hour or two later—this universe not only lacked technology, but also clocks—Kelly got up, found the age-hardened bar of soap in the bathroom, and a rag that looked like it might have once been a scrap of non-terry toweling cloth. There was even a bucket and a stiff, hair-bristled scrubbing brush tucked under the basin sink. Soaping up the water, she used another rag to tie her hair out of the way under the makeshift kerchief and started scrubbing the half-bath attached to “her” room.