The Builder tya-1

by P. S. Power

  The fellow in charge looked around and waved a man who looked to be near fifty over and just pointed at Tor, not explaining anything. Good. This must be the right man if that was all the information he needed.

  “OK. The floats on the bottom of the trunk will do the lifting. Tap them with your hand piece before you take off, they'll follow you. When you're in the air give me slack until I tie the boy off. Then take it up slowly as I try to get him out. If it collapses… well, I'm going to get a shield on him and me, so if that happens try to pull us up as hard as possible as soon as you notice it. If it does go… just pull. I, uh, may scream if you do… That doesn't mean stop. Got it?” He didn't want to sound weak, but if he started squealing like a baby the man had to know what to do.

  “Got it.” The man sounded confident at least. His weathered face and hard eyes under the white and black hair was reassuring.

  Tor found himself dangling within half a minute, carrying a coil of rope in his right hand. He was lowered carefully, but quickly enough. The hole didn't smell like much, thank god, the dried human waste like dust, mainly. It was gross when it got in his mouth. It only tasted like dirt but he tried to ignore it, knowing what it really was and crawled as best he could into the hole the boy had fallen down. It took a long time, it felt like, several minutes passing, his foot going cold and then numb as he struggled to fit. Even his shoulders were too big for the second turn, one that took the boy down about another five feet. He made them fit anyway, a tiny inch at a time, skin ripping as he forced his way down, gasping shallowly, not able to take a full breath because of the pressure on his chest.

  Great, the walls weren't strong enough to hold, but they could strip him bare of skin? How the heck did that work? Hardly fair. He would have yelled that at the walls, but didn't have enough air for it. The old waste stung when it touched blood and flesh, almost like salt in a wound.

  The boy really wasn't too far down, about ten feet, but around a bend that hid him from view from the top. Tor lowered the rope and started working it around the boy's middle, under his arms. It didn't take long and there were, thankfully, no problems.

  When the kid was tied off, he started crying, loud.

  “It's alright, I've got you. No problem…. Here,” he slipped one of the two shields he had on over his head and worked it on to the boy, then activated it for him. The walls around the small boy pushed away a bit. It was the part of the new design to keep the wearer from being strangled too easily.

  He called out then, for the man up top to start taking up slack. He scrambled back as well as he could, both of them inching up, his foot aching at the ankle from the rope.

  Just as they started back around the first corner, he saw her.

  A girl, tiny, maybe three or four, about two feet further down than the boy had been. Just as he noticed her the rope dragging up the uneven tunnel started a collapse and the line pulled harder in response.

  “No, wait!” He called out. It sounded pained, because it hurt, but that wasn't why he was screaming. The girl! She'd be buried in a few seconds.

  He pulled off his shield amulet and threw it down the hole, praying it hit. Praying that the field would cover her and not just bounce off. He hadn't built it for this, but didn't have anything else. The girl screamed at first, then her voice went almost silent and he and the boy were surrounded by darkness, in desperation he tried to do what he'd seen Rolph do. Generate a field, an organized sense of movement, of interlocking connectedness, between himself and the tiny child. Old shit rammed into his mouth and flesh tore and stretched at his ankle, in a screaming instant something there snapped. He almost passed out, but he couldn't. He couldn't let go.

  There wasn't time for it.

  Suddenly light surrounded him and the man above started to lower them to the ground.

  “Go higher!” He screamed. If the man lifted them into the air, maybe he could use the connection to the girl to get her free. It came out as a weak gasp as the man settled them to the ground. Others came and surrounded them, pulling them both away from the imploding edge of the pit.

  No.

  It was not going to happen this way.

  Tor extended his right hand and remembered the field he'd made at the beach, moving water from one place to another. He built one now, similar, but for something heavier. Dirt. It would have to be stronger. Much so. Dirt didn't flow well.

  And it would have to be now. It wasn't possible of course, not for someone like him, but there was no choice. Not if the girl was going to live.

  He firmed his voice as much as he could.

  “Move.” His voice was flat, all emotion gone. Anger coursed through him, surrounded him in an instant. Rage. It was odd, being so angry at dirt, at the unfairness of it all, but it was what he felt, stupid or not. He said the word again, gasping softly, trying to yell.

  “Move.”

  No one did until Rolph screamed at them to run. It wasn't the most manly sound to ever come out of the large Prince's mouth, but people scrambled away fast, which was all that really mattered to Tor.

  Then a fountain of earth moved, crashing through the air, a cloud of dust and things best left buried where they were, came up like a water fountain and finally, clutching a shiny piece of metal in a chubby little fist, the girl. She rolled end over end through the air for a second, crying. Then she connected with the ground and held in place as if stuck with glue or nailed down.

  She was sobbing, a high pitched squeal.

  Thank god.

  That meant she was alive.

  He dropped the field that he could barely hold and rolled over, gasping for breath. Tor couldn't breathe, fire ran through his left leg, and muddy blood dripped down his arms and chest. But he could hear crying.

  The boy joined the girl in his sobs. Tor closed his eyes and smiled. For the first time in his life, other than at the birth of a child, it was a joyous sound. He nodded to himself, feeling a bit of moisture in his own eyes. Probably just trying to get the grit out.

  Yeah, he really did probably have something in his eyes. The laugh that came out didn't make a sound, his lungs burned too much for that and he couldn't breathe through his nose at all, clogged with shit. He could pretend it was dirt, that was fine, right? He just lay there, crying and sobbing like a baby, but not because he felt sad. It must have been a hilarious picture to all the brawny workmen standing around, and the tough as nails guardsmen too.

  He didn't care.

  Tor didn't even care that he'd been left naked and bare on the ground, pink and bawling.

  The world went black then. He wondered if he'd still be crying when he woke back up?

  Chapter nine

  Tor woke up aching and sore in places he definitely didn't expect to be, but it made sense when he thought about where the falling clods of dirt had to impact. Dangling by one leg, being pulled around upside down like that. Ouch. Well, he probably wasn't ever going to have children anyway at the rate he'd been going with women. So no big loss. It did smart though, he could have done without that part. His skin felt burnt and sore too and of course his leg was just in agony. But he wasn't crying. Heh.

  He knew he was tougher than that.

  Well, more accurately, he wanted to be tougher than that. He didn't know if he was or not. Hadn't at least.

  The room he was in was nice, at least as fine as the one he'd been given in the guest house, but looked different. Older. More stone work by far and a bed large enough for his whole family to sleep in. He looked over towards the right edge and saw that it wasn't really true. He was in the center and the bed's edge was only about four feet away. Still, the biggest bed he'd ever seen.

  No one else was in the room, it was dark inside. Not black by any means, but the deep brown wood and deep blue curtains blocking out the light through the window didn't leave him a lot to see by. It was daytime at least. Hopefully the same day, because he didn't have enough time to get everything done if he missed more than one or two.

  Tor scoot
ed to the edge of the bed and started to swing his feet out, noticing that his legs had been covered with loose pants that were made of soft white silk-like material, his left leg wrapped in a thick splint that felt like metal pieces on either side when he touched it. It ached still, but it was attached, so they hadn't had to amputate it. Good. He'd worried about that a little he realized. Being the one foot guy would have been annoying to say the least. Kind of lopsided. Survivable though.

  He realized he was acting grumpy in his head, the pain getting to him a little. He chuckled and found himself laughing after a few seconds. Only he would jump head first into a cesspit. It would probably be the big joke when he got back to school. First things first though, he needed to get something to drink, water by preference, go to the restroom and then find some plates for the drought relief project and get to work.

  Standing he noticed that the shirt he wore was loose and white as well. It felt nice against his skin. Soft and smooth. The room was cool, but not cold, even though he didn't have an amulet on. Looking around he noticed that one of the room cooling plates hung on the far wall. He could see why they called them that here, but the heating properties would save a lot more lives in a harsh winter.

  There was no water anywhere he could find, so he limped slowly to the door of the room and poked his head out.

  In the hall two black and purple clad men, both huge and holding strips of metal in their hands that probably had massive destructive power built in to them. He could figure it out if he could see them in action, or even better, get to hold one.

  Royal Guards.

  Eeek. Tor wondered if he was being held prisoner. He couldn't think of a reason why, other than the fact that he'd sassed the King to his face the other day. That might do it. The man hadn't seemed to take it personally though, so that probably wasn't it. Besides, if he was being held against his will, it was an awfully nice dungeon.

  The man on his right turned and looked at him, shock in his eyes.

  “Sir! You're awake? We've orders not to let anyone bother you. Do you need anything?”

  Tor asked for some water and then if he could use the facilities. The men didn't hesitate to make both things happen. So probably not a prisoner. After all, prison guards didn't run errands for you, did they? Tor didn't know for certain, but it seemed like a definition of the term really. Then he asked if he could possibly see the King. He knew that the man was busy, kind of what his job meant as far as Tor could see, so settled back on the bed to wait, wondering if he'd be summoned within the next few days. Could he get someone to collect his trunk and the materials inside or… Maybe they could just bring him something else he could work with?

  It turned out he'd been moved to the palace building itself, by order of the Queen, so that she could attend to his needs herself. He assured the men that he didn't need much, probably not even guards, at least until he started work on the next project. He explained it to one of them, who clearly didn't get most of what he said, but did understand that he should have food, water, help to the restroom and peace as soon as he started, and that it would probably take days of work. The man nodded and left then.

  Less than an hour later three large brass falcons were brought in, liberated from the palace gardens.

  “Will these serve sir? We can procure something else if you wish?” The Royal Guard, a man named Finely asked, his voice lacking almost all emotion.

  “Those… will work very well actually, if the King OK's the project. Thanks!” They really were lovely, the nicest thing he'd ever gotten to put a field on by far. A little big, being nearly as tall as he was and probably weighing four times as much or more, but he didn't think a mighty “sky river” should be linked to something the size of his hand and no thicker than a piece of paper either. For one thing, these would be harder to steal. Of course it would take a moron to steal something like that with a river attached to it, but the world was filled with people that didn't always think.

  Not ten minutes after that the King, his wife and four other people came in. Rolph, of course, who he'd expected a little earlier, an older man, who looked kind, had on cream and yellow robes and was missing most of his hair, and oddly Karina, the Princess, who was followed by a prettier girl that looked a lot more like the Queen, only in miniature. Since she was the only person in the room that didn't leave him feeling like a midget, he tentatively decided to like her.

  “Hey! It's everybody!” Tor said enthusiastically. He sat up straighter, then grinned at Richard. “Sorry, bowing is completely out right now, how's everyone doing? The kids I mean? No one else got too hurt did they?” He'd heard them crying, but knew that sometimes people died of their injuries later. He felt relief wash through him when the King smiled.

  “Both are fine. It seems the tanner boy had fallen attempting his own rescue of the girl, the youngest child of a chandler. People are impressed.” Richard gave Tor a very significant look as if he was talking about him, or something silly like that. Tor ignored it.

  He nodded gently at the words and took their literal meaning instead. “I can see that. For an adult to try and save a child is natural, but for a kid that age to risk his life like that took a lot of guts. I'm glad they're both alright.”

  Pointing to the stolen statues, he asked if he could have them for the drought relief effort. Then he had to explain to the King and Queen what he meant by that. The Queen started to forbid it, but he shrugged and explained that while mentally difficult, he'd actually get a lot more bed rest for his injuries that way than if he was sitting around restless, worrying about people starving the next winter.

  The man in cream and yellow bowed to him and held it.

  “Oh, Tor…” The Queen gestured to the man beside her. “This is the King's counselor Smythe of Westend, he heads the military for the kingdom, after Richard himself. He wanted to be here when you woke…” She trailed off as if she didn't really understand what the man wanted with Tor.

  “Indeed young sir. I wanted to discuss some things with you… but I see that you already have plans. Very good. Would it be possible for me to visit with you at some length before you leave the Capital do you think?” The man didn't sound bossy or wheedling, he just asked, so Tor nodded.

  Why not? If the man wanted him to do something he could pretty much just tell him to, right? Tor would have to do it, since the guy was the head of the military and all. If he wanted to act all polite about it, well, it did make him feel better than if the guy had come in making demands and barking orders. He just hoped he wasn't being drafted into the guard or the army. Most of those guys were a lot bigger than he was for one thing. Besides his battlefield cry of “run away!” probably wouldn't go over very well. He could lead any strategic withdrawals for them that they needed though. Kolb had trained him pretty well for that actually.

  Karina hung back, dressed prettily in a light colored green dress that flowed to the ground and looked completely useless as real daily wear. It was more like a party frock or even wedding dress. At least not something you'd want to wear while outdoors. In her hair she had a simple green ribbon, darker than the dress and made of shiny material. It could have been more silk. She stepped forward and smiled at him, then spoke rapidly.

  “That was very brave, going into that… hole like that, after children you didn't even know. Did you… Did you really go into a combat rage?” She asked with only slight hesitation, though everyone else winced. The smaller girl next to Karina sighed loudly and pushed her arm.

  “You don't ask people about that.” She said, her voice sounding pleasant but slightly exasperated. A little like she was talking to a small child that needed to be corrected gently.

  He looked at Karina, wondering if he'd misheard and smiled. Brilliantly he added a slightly mirthful, “what?”

  Rolph shrugged. “Yeah Tor. I mean, you weren't all violent or anything, but you obviously had a shield around you even without wearing one, and pulled the girl out of the pit using direct effect. Controlled direct
effect, which is… rare. I got caught in the disorientation aura, that's why I told everyone to run when I realized what you were doing. This was while you were being ripped out of the ground by a broken leg. It had to be something similar at the very least, didn't it?”

  Everyone thought so except the King who smiled and waved this away. “Don't worry about it right now Tor, just do what you need to, and let us know if we can do anything to help. It will be seen to instantly.” The man smiled at him, and for some reason winked, then walked out, taking his advisor with him.

  Rolph stayed, waiting for his mother and sister Karina, both of whom offered to “fluff his pillow” for him. The younger girl looked at them all and laughed quietly behind her hand. For some reason this got a laugh from Rolph too, who told them that it was inappropriate with him in the room, because he shouldn't ever have to listen to such talk. Karina blushed a scarlet color and looked furious for a second her lips tightening, but Connie just laughed at her son.

  “A very good point. Perhaps you should leave then? We wouldn't want to offend your delicate ears. Now that you gave us that wonderful idea, I'm sure-”

  Rolph threw his hands over his ears, and spoke loudly to drown her out.

  “I'm not listening… Ho de hum…”

  “Well, you've been warned.”

  Her tone was dry, regal and somehow still playful.

  After a bit more talk like this that Tor didn't get, but could tell meant something, they all left, finally letting him get to work. At last. They were nice, but he couldn't work with everyone standing around talking like that. For one thing it would be rude. And really the pillows he had were already almost too fluffy. It was nice of them to offer, seeing to his comfort like that, without even considering that they were all royal and he was just… him.