“I am Mayvain, but Arabel calls me May. You can call me May, too, if you like.”
“Very well, May. Who is Arabel?” Conlan asked.
“Arabel is my sister.”
“Is Arabel here too?” Conlan asked, a frown growing between his eyes.
May nodded with a smile. “Of course, and Oakes.”
“Who is Oakes?”
“Oakes is broken.”
Mystified by this answer, Conlan tried to take charge of the situation.
“May, what are you—”
“May!” The girl’s high-pitched screech was loud and grating. Another figure ran between the tents, skidding to a halt in front of May. Relief filled the boy’s face. Arabel, Will guessed. The girl was young and thin, and long black hair fell across the faded bruises that marked her face. She, too, wore clothes that were many sizes too big for her. Rik reacted to this new potential threat by raising his sword.
“Leave my brother alone,” Arabel snarled, flicking her hand out and away from her. Rik was knocked off his feet by Air’s pushing force, and was flung a few feet back down the path. He landed heavily, his head hitting the ground. As his body rolled to a stop, he lay still.
A child with magical talent! There was only one place she could have come from: this was an Enforcer-in-training from the North Tower. Leaving Conlan for a moment, and hoping the unprotected king had enough of Amelia’s energy if he needed to create a shield against the girl, Will moved back to check on Rik. Without warning, Conlan pulled him forcibly into his head and Will winced.
What do we do now? Conlan demanded.
Why are you asking me?
You want children; I’m assuming you have insight.
I want children, Conlan, but I’m not a parent to a young child. I’ve no idea how to deal with her. I sort of assumed with my own kids it would be something I’d learn between them being a baby and being this age. From what I’ve read, being firm and setting boundaries is a good idea.
Conlan looked back and gave Will a withering look. Then he addressed the girl in a stern, cold voice.
“Arabel, we were not hurting May. Rik was not hurting May. We were just talking to him.” Arabel looked at him from emotionless black eyes. “You will restrain yourself, and we will discuss this in a civil manner,” Conlan continued.
Just then Arran ran out from between the two tents and came to a skidding halt at the scene before him. “Oh…” he murmured, looking at Conlan, apology and fear in his eyes. “I meant to tell you… but you were so busy and I…”
“Arran!” Conlan barked. “Not here. I do not want a camp-wide incident. Help Will with Rik. We are going back to your tent, now, before the camp guard stumble across us.”
Arran jumped to obey. Rik regained consciousness fairly quickly when Will waved an open bottle of ammonia salts under his nose. Conlan watched Will work with mounting ire that made his green eyes flash.
Half carrying, half dragging Rik, they made it back to Arran’s tent. Inside, Gregor and two other familiar faces started in surprise. Those are two of the Enforcers that helped Arran torture us at Katadep, Will thought with a shudder.
“Arran, explain to me what madness is going on in my camp,” Conlan demanded. It felt like his anger had taken the temperature in the tent to well below freezing.
Arran stared at him, his expression blank, trying to marshal his thoughts, Will assumed. It was never easy holding onto a coherent argument in the face of Conlan’s blistering cold fury.
“You sound just like him, you know,” Arabel said, coming to stand next to Conlan, looking up at him, a snarl of disgust under the words.
“Sound like whom?” Conlan inquired with a politeness that would have made Arabel tremble if she had known the man she was talking to.
Arabel’s beautiful face twisted into a grimace. “Lord Daratus.”
Choices
Arabel’s words hit Conlan far harder than anyone but Will seemed to realise. Will took advantage of Conlan’s shock to steer him to the mat-covered ground of the tent so he could inspect his now heavily bleeding leg. He carefully sliced through the material of the trousers and removed the bandage.
That was my last pair of breeches.
Conlan’s snarl in his head made Will jump.
Someone will fix them for you. I’m a little more worried about you bleeding to death, Will snapped back. The day was wearing on him, he needed to sleep and his headache was making itself felt. Thankfully only half the stitches had torn free.
“Arran, I need some warm water,” Will said. Moments later a large bowl of clean snow was placed at his side. Confused and irritated, Will was about to reiterate his request for warm water when May came and knelt next to the bowl. Placing a hand on either side he closed his eyes and appeared to be concentrating. The snow began melting, and it was soon steaming water.
An affinity for Fire—and his control is impressive.
There’s a Mydren saying about the foolishness of allowing little boys to play with fire, Conlan growled.
“Thank you, May,” Will said with a smile. The little boy grinned until he noticed Conlan staring at him. Then his face fell, fear filled his dark eyes, and he scuttled back to hide behind his sister. Biting back the urge to chastise Conlan for frightening small children, Will set to work cleaning away the blood and slowing down the bleeding so he could see to sew.
Do I really sound like Daratus?
Conlan’s question was accompanied by a burst of anguish so strong that Will felt it shatter against him. Considering the question, Will wondered how to answer it. A simple yes or no would not suffice.
On occasion, yes. Eleanor calls it the ‘Daratus Effect’. Arran does it too sometimes. When you’re especially angry, or you’re unsure how to react to a situation, your voice and expression become hard, cold and devoid of emotion. You sound like Daratus. Eleanor thinks it’s due to those around Daratus doing their best to mimic the way he speaks to deflect his anger. It’s a learnt fear response that… Will stopped when he saw the angry disbelief in Conlan’s eyes.
Do you regularly sit around discussing my ‘fear responses’?
You’re purposely making it sound like something it’s not, Will said, feeling his temper straining. All the four of us have ever tried to do is understand you—with very little help from you, I might add! You asked me a question, and the point I was getting to is yes, on occasion you sound very much like Daratus, but that doesn’t mean you carry any of the man’s other traits. However, if these children are what I think they are, Enforcers-in-training, then they will have been subjected to untold horrors at the hands of Daratus. So you might want to try being a little kinder.
A growl of irritation rumbled through Conlan’s chest, but he said nothing further, instead shoving Will out of his head and ignoring the sharp look Will flashed him in return.
“I have stopped the bleeding, Sire,” Will said stiffly. “When I have redone the stitches I am going to give it a thicker binding in the hopes of holding the new stitching together longer this time.”
“Fine,” Conlan snapped, turning his attention to his brother. “Arran, explain.”
Arran nodded, motioning Arabel and May to his side. “Oakes?” he said quietly. “Please get up and join us.” A bundle of rags stirred in the corner of the tent and unfolded to form another thin, badly dressed, filthy child. A boy, his dead blue eyes fixed in the distance and his face slack, shuffled to Arran’s side and stood with the others.
Emotional trauma, disassociation, Will thought before turning back to his stitching. What did they do to him?
“Sire, this is Oakes. He is ten and has an affinity for Water,” Arran said. When Conlan made no comment, he continued. “Arabel is eight with an affinity for Air—”
“Yes, we have discovered this,” Conlan said. “The other boy is Mayvain, known as May. He is six with an affinity for Fire and he does not look where he is running. I did not ask for an introduction, Arran, I asked for an explanation. What are three
children doing in my camp without my knowledge?”
“This is the first chance I have had to tell you, Sire,” Arran said.
“They cannot stay,” Conlan snapped.
“Where else would you have them go?” Arran asked, a dangerous flash of anger in his eyes.
Conlan was too surprised by the vehemence of Arran’s retort to be angry. “Children need loving parents, safe homes, stability—”
“You barely had any of those things,” Gregor interrupted, coming to stand with the children. “And Arran had none of them. Yet here you both are, still fighting for what is right.”
“Their parents are dead,” Arran said. “There is nowhere we can send them where they would not be recaptured by the Lords of Mydren.”
“There are no facilities for children here; I cannot vouch for their safety,” Conlan persisted, the strength in his argument crumbling a little under the pressure from his brother and grandfather.
“I can provide facilities for them,” Amelia said.
Shocked, Will watched as Amelia entered Arran’s tent. May and Arabel squealed in delight and ran into Amelia’s open embrace, wrapping their arms around her waist with all the joyful abandon that came with familiarity. Amelia knew about the children and didn’t tell me. Conlan flashed Will a look of astonishment, and Will returned it.
Amelia saw the look. “Did you think you were the only one who was able to keep secrets?” she asked him in English. A smile lit up her face and she added in Dwarfish, “Surprise!”
“They can’t stay here, Amelia,” Conlan said in English, but he sounded uncertain.
Amelia’s expression hardened. “This isn’t open for debate,” she snapped at him, the English chilly. “They’re staying, Conlan. They’ll be my responsibility and Will’s, I hope, when he gets over his shock enough to appreciate the wondrous opportunity that just fell in his lap. Right now, there’s nowhere safer for them than here with us. If you insist on throwing a tantrum about it, I’ll be leaving with them.”
“Throwing a tantrum?” Conlan asked, his eyes narrowing. Will was stunned when Amelia squared up to the threat in Conlan’s expression.
“Yes, a tantrum,” she said with cold disdain. “We all know you think yourself king; you don’t need to throw that weight around. You’re where you are right now because of us. You’re still alive and a reasonably functional human being because of Will, you can express humour because of Freddie, and you know love because of Eleanor. Everything you have and everything you are, you owe to us—and right now you have us grovelling at your feet. You’re only king because you, and we, say so. You’ve still to earn the title; the rest is wishful thinking and your ego. So drop the attitude. Will and I might not have a voice on your inner council, but you’re going to do as I say. The children are staying with me. Accept it.”
Hurt flared in Conlan’s eyes, but Will could not stop the smile of admiration that spread across his face.
“I see how hard a mother will fight to protect her children,” Conlan said, the snapping bark in the Dwarfish carrying awe. Will tied off the bandage and Conlan pulled himself to his feet, not showing the pain it must have cost him. “Thank you for your honesty, Amelia,” Conlan continued, a humble apology rumbling under the words as he limped forward. “The children can stay.”
A beautiful, luminous smile graced Amelia’s lips. Stepping out of the children’s arms, she walked over to Conlan, cupping his weary face in her hands. “You asked something special of me once, a long time ago, do you remember?” she asked in English. Conlan nodded. “Well, sometimes, carrying out that request needs a little hurtful truth.”
Conlan nodded again, pulling Amelia into a tight embrace, resting his head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him and rubbed the back of his neck. When he reluctantly pulled back, he gave her a chaste kiss on the cheek and then turned to Will.
“I really need to sleep,” he said, not able to meet Will’s eyes. “Please can you get me to Eleanor?”
“Yes, Sire,” Will replied with a smile.
With care, Conlan manoeuvred himself into the sofa, ignoring Murray’s painfully polite protests about disturbing his sleeping patient, and relaxed into the pillows. With his head touching Eleanor’s, sleep found him in minutes.
“Let him rest, Murray,” Will whispered, as he helped Rik to lie down in the side bed opposite Davlin. “Sleep, Rik,” he ordered in as commanding a whisper as he could manage. “Others will watch over you both.” Rik gave him a grateful smile and closed his eyes.
Having contacted Freddie, Will waited with Murray until four of the camp guard arrived. They positioned themselves around the cart, pulling cloaks and jackets tighter against the chilling wind that blew flurries of snowflakes in all directions. Murray agreed to do the first shift with their patients, but Will knew it would not be long before his shift, and that he needed to sleep before that, so moving with all possible haste he headed back to where he had woken up that morning. Was it only this morning?
It was late afternoon, but darkness was creeping down on them, the heavily falling snow a peaceful ‘non-sound’ that muted the world. Will felt like he was walking through empty nothingness, not a camp with a hundred and twenty people in it. One hundred and twenty-three, he corrected. He knew he should have been thinking about the children, about the responsibility of fatherhood that Amelia had thrust upon him, but the concept held no fear—yet—only the promise of fun and happiness. He would do the best he could with what he had, just as all fathers did, and the rest would improve the children’s characters. What held him captivated was the strength and determination Amelia had shown in protecting the children and keeping them where she felt they belonged. She would need these often-hidden attributes a lot more in the future, and Will was overjoyed to know that they existed within her in such abundance.
There you are! Amelia’s worried voice filled his head before he even realised her energy had brushed against him. Where are you?
I’m heading home.
Errrmmm… home moved, Amelia said. We’re in Arran’s tent. Do you remember where that is?
Yes, Will said, changing his direction. I’ll be there soon.
Trembling with cold and fatigue, Will stepped into the welcome warmth of Arran’s tent and smiled as Amelia embraced him, then frowned when she stepped back and he noticed the desperate pleading in her eyes.
“You forgive me, right?” she asked. Will nodded and chuckled as something occurred to him.
Amelia gave him a tentative smile. “What’s funny?”
Will shook his head. “It’s just… when I woke up this morning, I didn’t think I’d be ending the day married with three kids…”
Amelia giggled and threw her arms around him. “Thank you for being okay with this.”
“You’re happy, they’re happy, I’m happy,” Will said. What more is there to say? He smiled as a warm, contented feeling spread through his veins. Slowly another question surfaced, one he had wanted to ask earlier. “What did Conlan ask you for? You mentioned that he asked you for something, a long time ago.”
Amelia smiled, a distant look in her eyes as she remembered. “He begged me to keep forgiving him when he messed up. He promised me he would always try to change once he realised he was wrong.”
“He asked you for unconditional love?” Will asked.
Amelia frowned. “I didn’t really think either of us considered it that way… but yes, I guess he did.”
“He’s luckier than he knows to have someone with the courage to love him as he needs, not as he deserves,” Will said. Stunned by Amelia’s strength for the second time that day, he pulled her tight against him, burying his face in her hair. Closing his eyes, he took slow, deep breaths, until he realised he was in danger of falling asleep standing up. He lifted his head, and when he spotted what looked like a bed towards the back of the tent, his exhaustion overwhelmed him.
“Can I sleep there?” he asked, yawning.
“Eat something first,” Ame
lia insisted, guiding him to a large wooden trunk with a folded blanket on it.
He sat and found two beautiful, fearful faces framed with black hair looking up at him. Arabel and May sat on a mat spread over the floor of the tent. Each held a bowl of food and each was frozen in the act of taking a large mouthful. Will smiled at them. Watching him carefully, they slowly began to eat again. Amelia handed him a bowl of stew.
“May will heat it up for you if it is cold,” she said, giving the little boy a loving smile. Too tired to care about the temperature, just eating it to please Amelia, Will went through the mechanical chew and swallow of consuming his dinner. His mind was not really thinking about anything until the anomaly struck him.
“Where is the other… Where is Oakes?” he asked, looking around. Amelia’s eyes filled with distress, and she nodded towards the corner, at the unmoving pile of clothes that was Oakes. The boy was conscious, but staring at nothing; he lay on his side, his arms wrapped around his knees.
“Daratus broke him,” May said sadly.
“Broke him how?” Will asked without thinking.
“By murdering what he loved,” Arabel said with a shudder, unconsciously pulling May closer to her. “When Oakes refused to use his energy to kill, and beating him did not change his mind, Lord Daratus stopped feeding his little sister.”
“Arran found him cradling her dead body when he rescued him. He’s been catatonic ever since,” Amelia said in English. Will would have expected tears to accompany this statement, but Amelia was dry-eyed and seething, her righteous rage palpable when she added, “If I’m ever within sight of Daratus again I’m going to make him regret his actions.”
Will understood her anger, but it was not what Oakes needed. Post-traumatic stress. The boy was going to need a lot of help to find himself again. Handing his empty food bowl back to Amelia, Will moved to the bed and patted it gently.
“Oakes? Why not come and lay down here? It will be more comfortable,” he said, taking care to keep his voice low. The boy showed no sign of recognition, but he stood and shuffled over, lying down again where Will had indicated. Wanting so much to comfort the child, but knowing Oakes had to make the first move, Will lay down next to him, so he could look into the haunted blue eyes that sat in the boy’s blank face.
Will (Book 2) Page 52
