by P. S. Power
It wasn't fair to ask him to put up with all this was it? Torrance Baker was a builder not anything else, not a plaything for little royal girls and boys and not someone that was going to put up with this crap any more. In short, Tor had had enough and more than enough.
Standing he noticed that everyone else had gone still, then suddenly scurried away. Well, great, more crap? Stupid combat rage.
“Trice, cut it out!” This got yelled. Screamed really, she looked scared for a second and the rage inside him doubled and then tripled.
“Damn it you fucking bitch, your fear response causes combat rage! Can't you see it or are you really just that stupid? Stop it! Control your fear you twit!” Tor started toward her, but she backed away rapidly. Not that it mattered, everyone else already lay on the ground, unable to move. Trice went down then too. Stupid freak.
Yeah, combat rage incidents had gone up a thousand percent in the last years? But only around her. It explained so much.
Tor walked out and sat in the hallway, just taking a seat on the hard stone floor. He had to gain control of himself before he started breaking things or making a bigger nuisance of himself. More to the point he had to do something about Trice before she managed to get people killed without even realizing it was her doing.
She was probably in denial about it, because normally she was smart enough to put two and two together.
Tor went within, and over the course of an hour and a half managed to get himself to calm the heck down, but he knew that wasn't enough. Focusing as hard as he could without losing himself totally, seeking the memories of having been effected by his curly haired friend, each time it had happened. When he had the basic feeling of the pattern she'd used to trigger others, he began to build a shield for it.
It was bizarre, the feeling of what happened. Tor thought, on some level at least, that he moved. He must have had water and food and someone had kept him, if not clean and tidy then at least from openly soiling himself as he sat on the cold marble floor in front of the dining room. It was a blink of an eye to him, just a small step from the start of the new build to the finish. Except it wasn't.
Tor came to himself sitting on a cushion in a closet off the main hallway. Another supply closet. Really, he reflected as he looked around, the palace had a lot of them, didn't it? When he tried to stand nothing happened. His legs moved, so did his arms. They didn't support his weight enough to stand however. Not at all. Oops.
Rubbing his face he found a full beard. He used to wear one for a while, so he could tell a few things from it now. The first was that this wasn't a few days or even weeks worth of growth. It was… long. Months worth at least. Gah. Well, that explained why he hadn't just gotten up and walked away.
The next thing he got was that the device in his hand was the most complicated thing he'd ever created by far. It was supposed to be a simple filtering device, just a shield to stop Trice from effecting everyone around her and triggering combat rage. That, in the end, was all it really was too. It was just that doing that wasn't as simple as it sounded apparently. At least it was pretty.
The sigil was a green and purple dragon that glowed in the air, inside a clear disk made of pure thought. The effect was stunning. The dragon moved and looked at you when you stared at it, purple eyes flashing and uselessly small wings flapping gently at nearly random times. There was no chain or string to hang it by, since it wasn't real. It felt real, like a smooth hard disk of stone, but it would simply stay where it was placed. On Trice at least.
Tor didn't have any amulets left on at all, which meant, he realized abstractly, that he was sitting naked. That got a blink. Who put a person in a closet naked?
Princess Karina came to mind, but maybe that was unkind. Chuckling he saw that there was a real glass, a pitcher of water made of clay with pretty designs pained in rust red on the outside and an old style poison detector sitting next to it. The first thing he did was check the water and then drank it all. It was fresh, so hopefully that meant that someone was checking on him regularly? That would be good, because when he tried to call out only a very soft croak came forth. It would come back, once he started moving around and using it. Everything would. At least that had been what had happened in the past.
The biggest problem, other than the whole not being able to move thing, was the weeping sores all over his backside and legs. Eek. He'd heard of that, wounds from not moving for way to long, but the people that got them were almost always near death. That, Tor knew, wasn't the case here. The wait felt like it was long, but his sense of time was gone, so it may have been minutes or could have been days when Rolph opened the door and saw his open eyes. His friend didn't react much.
“Oh, opened your eyes again? I don't suppose your finished with that… whatever it is this time are you? I brought food again, think you can eat?”
“Yeah.” Tor croaked softly, then cleared his throat and tried for more. It was still just a croak, but neared a level that would be nearly conversational speech.
“Water would be good too, and clothes. How long was I out?”
Rolph started, literally jumping back with a small scream, then he rushed forward.
“Tor! God, gods and little fish! I thought you were dead! We've all been waiting for you to die… Gods!”
Agreement not to get to physical or not, Rolph hugged him and then smothered him with kisses, which was a bit off-putting. Plus it felt funny with the beard. The crying out from his giant friend got other people to come running, all of them looking grim at first, until they realized that the small naked Tor was actually awake. Not dead. He smiled, mainly hidden behind the thick black beard on his face.
“Hey everyone… Um, could I maybe have some clothes and my amulets? If they haven't been sold to pay my rent for this space I mean.” Tor glanced around the closet.
It made sense, not the rent part, but the closet. He was out of the way and if not comfortable, at least he had a little pad to sit on, which was actually made of shield material, so one that he'd made. Really, it should have kept him from having sores, being as soft as it was, so Tor must have been there for a while.
Even the King came in and promptly shut the door, leaving only Rolph and Tor inside the suddenly tiny space with him
“Alright there Tor?” The man said gently, as if speaking to a mad man.
“A little sore and tired. Hungry and thirsty. Other than that I'm fine, I think. Sorry about “leaving” like that. I needed to get something to help Trice. Where is she? I should take her this…” He tried to get up again and nearly made it on his own, actually standing when Rolph took most of his weight for him.
His friend held him steady and gasped when he saw what Tor held in his hand. The tiny dragon looked at him and fluttered, almost as if in recognition. It tilted it's head cutely.
“Gods… that's… is it responding to me?” Rolph touched the field, which caused the little fake creature to dodge first, then “attack” the big finger with its claws. It boxed at them though, like a human would, not scratching or trying to bite like an animal.
The King’s eyes went wide as well.
“Well, I'm sure that will help. She's been a little upset since the events of two months ago Tor. Locked herself in a room and won't come out actually. We've been watching her to make certain she doesn't harm herself, but other than that, well, she won't talk to anyone even. Something about her causing all the combat rage.” The man seemed questioning, his gaze didn't waiver.
Tor nodded back.
“Yeah. I think it's her battle aura honestly. When she gets scared or too mad it triggers other people into a rage. I figured it out when I finally noticed that she was always there when I went into one myself. Always. And each time she was focused on me and worried, scared or angry. That last time kind of confirmed it.”
The King grimaced and sighed, “we've, kind of feared that was the case. It happens occasionally, It's a Morgan family trait, but we weren't positive. Or well, probably trying to hope it w
asn’t the case more than anything else.” Richard looked at his son and frowned.
“We'll have to sequester her then, for everyone’s safety. It's the only thing we can do now.”
Rolph looked shaken suddenly.
“For the rest of her life?” He spoke so quietly Tor almost couldn't hear him. The King could.
“Yes. I'm afraid so.”
Chapter Thirteen
Tor tried to snort in derision, but it came out sounding more like he was choking on his own saliva. Then he actually did, which got Rolph to pound him on the back for a minute while he recovered. Smooth.
“Sorry, where was I? Oh, yeah, that was supposed to be a sign of derision. As in to say, “don't be stupid.” Stopping that is what the device here is for. Obviously. What did you people think I was doing? Get me clothes and a Not-flyer? My new one I think? We'll go get her out of her room and then get to work on those murders, if Smythe hasn't already handled that? Two months, so…”
No one answered, which couldn't be good. They did both run to get his amulets, which were just sitting outside the door. Rolph explained that originally Tor's shield had been on and no one could get near him for days, since he was spraying combat aura so hard that half the palace had to be cleared. When that finally ended the Prince had managed to turn the shield off, after a day’s worth of trying, focusing from a distance, so they took all the amulets to keep that from happening again.
“Really, we had too, we just didn't know what all you had on, three amulets, but all of them had at least ten sigils and…” The red haired giant shrugged.
Hence the nakedness. Right. Tor grinned.
“Yeah, a bit of a flaw there. Anyway…” Triggering the Not-flyer Tor lifted gently, until he hung upright in the air, four inches above the ground, toes pointed down slightly. On this latest version of it, he didn't need a hand control at all, which was useful. It took focus to make it work, but not that much. He'd made it on vacation, kind of on a whim. Really, he could use the same field for flying rigs now too. The needed controls were almost the same. As an added benefit, this one would let him move up higher or float closer to the ground if he wanted.
“Not to be high handed, but if one of you could lead me to Trice please? I know, asking the King or Prince to take me around like errand boys… Still, it will speed things up a bit, yes?”
They walked quickly the other two stretching their long legs through the twists and turns of stone and wood corridors, coming to a small door that looked about six foot high. Tor would have thought it was the wood room for the fireplaces or something, not a place to keep a Ducherina. That turned out to be the case actually, which made him blink. Some kind of self-punishment?
Rolph knocked on the door loudly.
“Trice? Tor is awake! He's here, come out or we're breaking the door down finally and pulling you out. That means a repair bill and you know, my allowance has been cut what with the war build-up and all, so what do you say? Come out?” His voice sounded, happy enough at least.
From behind the small brown door the responding voice was petulant.
“Go away! It's not safe. I'll end up hurting someone. I'm a monster! Go away!” A single hard thump came from behind the door, wood on wood if Tor didn't miss it.
Rolph made a rude sound with his tongue.
“Oh stop being a stupid bitch Trice! Tor just spent nearly two months making a special device so that you won't send people into combat rage and his butts covered with bed-sores. He can't walk and hasn't even eaten, the first thing he did was insist on coming here. The least you can do is open the door enough to get your present. It's actually really cool. I'd ask for one just as a decoration. Seriously though, stop being stupid now please? I don't think Tor has the energy to hang around here all day waiting for you to decide you don't hate him or whatever.”
Nothing happened for a second, then a sound of fumbling, a lock or bar on the inside, which made no sense to Tor. Was that so the firewood could have privacy? When the door opened, a fearsome sight peeked out, hair longer than Tor remembered, all brown frizz and curls, just a hint of blond at the tips. The blue eyes were feral and looked half insane.
“I don't hate him, he hates me. Because of you!” A finger pointed at the King, who didn't deny the accusation at all. It was true to an extent, except Tor didn't hate her. Far from it, obviously.
The small and exhausted builder rolled his eyes.
“Like he said, stupid. Not true. Now take the device and let's go get cleaned up. Bed time soon. Food.” The croak was harsh and Tor realized that if they didn't hurry he was just going to fall asleep on the floor.
Rolph practically had to wrestle with Trice to get her to put the thing on and she didn't comment on the little dragon at all, hardly even seeing it. She started to close herself back in the little storage room, but Rich put a hand out.
“No. Enough of that. The danger has been dealt with and all has returned to normal, more or less. We require both of you now. I'll give you both a day to fix yourselves, but no more. It's time to stop goofing off and get back to work now.” The voice was stern and all royal suddenly.
Tor shrugged. Yeah, well building was his job, and Trice was his friend. If the King thought he had anything to do more important than helping her, he was mistaken. The girl came out though, which was a start. Tor managed to reach out and take her hand, the right one, with his left.
“Help me find Ali?” Was all he said. She was his wife and the fact that he hadn't shown concern for her first was telling. Too much so.
Worst husband ever, Tor thought a little sullenly. She probably hated him now, his freaking out and scaring everyone like that. Spewing combat aura for days. Who did that? No one. It wasn't survivable.
Dying would explain how awful he felt at least. Tor tried for a grin, but it didn't come to his face. Instead he just turned and started to float away slowly, Trice shambling along behind him, Rolph and the King next to her talking softly. It was the Prince that suggested they check the guest house for Alissa, since Karina and Tor's wife had set up shop there, so that they could pick Denno's brain for ideas.
“They want to hire the work done, but don't know who to go to for it. The Guild is harder to find than you might think. Not that I blame them, after all, it's a good idea, even if it does take a hundred thousand golds to get it done.”
A soft grunt came from the King.
“I keep wondering when Karina will figure out to ask our… friends about it.”
Tor got it. Their friends were the special army that Kolb ran. Armed with nearly the best magical devices in the world, trained hardened fighters put together to take on the hardest of special projects. This had to count.
Karina was even in the chain of command. If she told them she wanted Daria Glost killed, it would happen.
Tor just nodded.
“Alright. I'll… I need to make some stuff first, so they can do it safely. Get her to stall for a bit?” Tor chuckled at the silence behind him. “Don't worry, it won't take months of work, but darn it, I'm building up a bit first. Working from school for a while, so get people ready.” Unless it wasn't there or something.
Rolph took a deep breath. “Um, Tor…”
“Uh, yeah?” It sounded like he didn't know who he was for a second. That was silly though. It nearly made him want to laugh.
The giant red-head continued, his voice sounding worried, “I don't think you can pass this year. Neither of us can, we missed too much.”
Trice whimpered, like him not getting good grades would be some big deal.
“So? There's the building group to get with there and our friends. I have a house. Plus I want to get with all of them and Instructor Fines on some group work. I… May not personally be up to getting everything ready in time. We have people for that though now. I think. Maybe.”
They didn't talk about it after that, not for a while. Finally Richard put a large hand on his shoulder. It kind of hurt, even though it was nothing more than a reassuri
ng weight. So, yeah, Tor got that he wasn't ready to do anything too heroic for a bit. He'd stressed his pattern.
Nearly to death.
He didn't mention it though. Because while he intended to claim it was the work he’d done, and that had certainly been part of it, the days of combat rage had probably done most of the damage. Honestly, if he’d been doing anything but sitting at first, probably for weeks, he would have likely died. Trice would freak if she realized how close this had really come. Tor figured that if he tried to make even a simple cutter right then the effort would kill him. He'd just fall apart, for real.
Really, just reading someone too closely for too long might do it.
It had to be done though. Thank god, he'd gotten the work for Trice done and delivered first. Even if he died now, she'd be OK. When they got to the outside door Rolph skipped forward to open it for everyone. The King spoke gently to Tor, as if fearing he might be a bit mentally unstable, which wasn't fair. OK, sure, he'd nearly worked himself to death, but there had been a reason for it.
“So, you're going to live at the school?”
“Um… no.” Tor didn't show anything externally and couldn't really. It was a side effect of the work he'd done, being so deep for so long. Finally he remembered to speak. It took effort.
“Checking in there, then getting with Smythe. I… don't think… I… Well, I promised I'd help.” Saying that he didn't think he'd be able to work building for a while might not go over so well, he realized. As it was Trice was still quietly sobbing.
After a while he spun to look at her. After all, she didn't cry softly, did she? It was odd…
Like something in her had broken.
“Trice is coming with me. Ali and Karina too. Traveling for a bit. Get Trice assigned to the investigation.” It came out as an order.
