He paid the stableboy and took his horse, keeping his cloak around him. He had to be careful about this, hiding his identity without looking as if he were trying to hide it. Fortunately, the morning was a bit chill, so it would not be overly suspicious to be so clothed.
He would leave by a different gate, as they had discussed, on the hopes that Walther would have drawn most of the attention.
They caught him just outside.
There were two watching the gate, and they clearly were not expecting to see him there. As Erich passed, he made the mistake of looking in their direction, again trying not to appear to be skulking out the gate. Somehow or another they recognized him or least something on him that caught their attention. Erich spurred his horse forward out the gate.
As he looked around, he could see them coming after him on their own horses. He had a good lead on them, but he realized that while he might be able to outrun them, he could not rejoin the others with these two in chase.
A hundred yards outside the gate, he drew up his horse and spun around. They were charging toward him, one holding a club, the other carrying what appeared to be a net, the sight of which chilled him. They intended to capture him alive for Wilhelm.
Erich drew the war knife and charged in, then turned his horse at the last moment just as the man with the net made to throw it. He tried to adjust his throw and lost his balance, causing the net to wrap itself around him instead. As Erich rode past, he swung his sword.
The war knife was a fine weapon for horseback because of its length, and Erich’s aim was true. He opened the man’s throat to his spine. The head lolled backwards, blood fountaining into the air as the dead man fell from his horse.
The second man had been following the first, presumably to knock Erich out once he was in the net. Instead, Erich’s counterstroke as he rode past deflected the club away from him.
He spun around again, as did the second man. The man charged in again, but this time, Erich drew a throwing knife with his free hand and fired it at him. The man saw it coming and instinctively raised his arm to block it; instead it buried itself into his upraised wrist, causing him to drop the club.
That was all the opening Erich needed, and the second man was dead in less time than the telling of it took.
He spun around, looking for any others, seeing nothing. Then he charged off, knowing that if there were two men watching this gate so closely, there would be other men at the gate Walther and his wives had used.
He circled the city, heading south to where the Rhine began to bend. When the road entered the woods, he saw a small gray form coming rapidly up toward him. After a few moments, he realized what it was: Shadow.
The wolf had left in the wagon, but he could see nothing ahead. Shadow stopped as he approached, then turned and ran back down the road. Erich spurred his horse faster.
He heard them just before he saw them. Around the bend was the wagon, and there were four men on horseback around it, including the man with the black cap the guard captain had mentioned. Walther was on the ground on his hands and knees, and man in the black cap was trying to pull Astrid from the wagon.
There was a fifth horse with no apparent rider. On the ground beside the road was a motionless man whose clothes were on fire.
Erich drew the war knife, riding in at full gallop. The two men at the rear of the wagon heard him coming and spun around, drawing their swords.
He rode to the side to keep them from surrounding him, and as they closed, the nearest man swung at him. Erich parried the stroke, and returned it, slashing across his stomach as he went past the wagon. Ariel called something to him, but he was riding too hard to hear it.
The fourth man was up ahead, turning around with sword out. Erich swung at him but was parried. He blocked the counterstroke, then slashed again, but was parried again. He saw the first man, who had ridden past him on the way in, having turned around and come back. The leader was still struggling with Astrid, and Ariel was trying to pull her free while Shadow was biting at his leg.
The man’s next stroke was off-balance, and Erich parried it high, then slashed down across his throat.
But then he saw three more men thundering down the road toward them, apparently the remainder of the band. And just as Erich prepared to engage the first man, their leader got Astrid out of the wagon and put a dagger to her throat.
“Stop!” he shouted.
Erich drew up, sidestepping his horse to keep the first man on the other side of the wagon.
“I have already killed four of your men,” he snarled. “If you do not wish to join them, let her go. You are not the first mercenaries of my brother’s who have died under my blade.”
“That is quite so, sir, but we will be the last. Drop that blade, or I will kill her.”
“You will die.”
“Perhaps, but only after she does. Then I will kill the other. I can reach her before you do. My contract concerns only you; they mean nothing.”
Astrid struggled against his grip, but the man was far too strong. “Erich, no!”
The man dug his blade into Astrid’s neck, and she cried out. Even from this distance, Erich could see the blood blossoming on her throat.
“Now, good sir.”
Erich raged impotently. He could try to kill him with a throwing knife, but the range was far and if he missed, the man would certainly kill Astrid.
He threw down his sword. “Damn you.”
Ariel cried out in despair, and Astrid sagged against the man holding her, sobbing loudly.
“Dismount, please, and step away from that horse and your blade.”
He did as instructed. The remaining sellswords moved in and bound him, removing his throwing knives, even the ones concealed in his boots.
They bound Ariel, Astrid, and Walther as well, gagging the other three to deter spellcasting. As they did so, the men groped at the girls, laughing at their cries of protest.
“Leave them alone!” Erich shouted.
“And what are they to you?” the leader asked. “They are but your master’s daughters?”
“They are my wives.”
The man’s face changed in an instant. He had clearly not expected this answer. He spun around to his men.
“Let them be!”
They back up at him in confusion. “Sir?”
“These are married women,” the leader said, “and you will respect that.”
Erich forced himself to thank the man.
“I have a wife at home in Firenze, sir. You are not a Moor. You have two wives?”
“Twin mages must marry the same man.” He did not feel like giving him a more involved explanation.
“I see. I do not know what your brother will do with them, but we will not be responsible for any affronts to their honor.”
“You could let them go.”
“Believe me, I would like to, but they are dangerous mages”—here he paused to look down at the man they had apparently killed by fire—“and you are their husband. You will excuse me if I do not believe they will simply proceed on their way while I take you to Count Wilhelm, whatever assurances I might try to extract. Trust me, sir, I know how the mind of a woman works when it comes to her husband’s welfare. I have lost half my men today as it stands.”
They threw Erich over his horse and the others in the back of the wagon. As they rode off, Erich could see Shadow loping along in the woods, following them.
31.
Wilhelm was eating dinner in his private chambers when his chamberlain burst in. He was about to erupt in annoyance when the man shouted, “Your grace, Giancarlo Attendolo has returned, and he has your brother!”
The thrill of satisfaction that surged through him was so intense he could not answer the man for several moments.
“Where are they?”
“The outer bailey, your grace.”
“Bring them into the main hall.”
The chamberlain left, and Wilhelm walked to the audience chamber. Guards and
servitors were trickling into the room as word of the news spread. Wilhelm climbed up the dais and took his seat.
Giancarlo entered the room first. Behind him, his men and Wilhelm’s guards led in a small group: two women, identical twins, and an older man—all gagged—and Erich.
Wilhelm did not immediately recognize his brother. The resemblance was there, but this was not the callow youth his father had driven from the house, who had occupied his thoughts for a decade. He was larger: broader shoulders and tightly muscled arms like the knotted roots of an oak tree. Even bound, he moved with an unsettlingly lupine grace, and carried a murderous look in his eyes that Wilhelm did his best to return.
He no longer wondered why so many men he had sent after Erich had died.
But Wilhelm was in control here.
“Who are these others?” he asked Giancarlo.
“The women are mages, and his wives. The man is their father, also a mage. We captured them together.” Giancarlo paused to gather himself. “Your brother killed four of my men, and the women killed another by fire.”
Oh, this was delightful. Not just Erich, but also two women he presumably cared about. And the pompous Giancarlo taken down a few notches as well.
“I warned you he was dangerous.” Wilhelm laughed. “You have outdone yourself, Giancarlo.”
The man nodded. “Our final payment, your grace, if you will.”
“Of course!” He motioned to the chamberlain, who fetched Giancarlo’s money. “I assume you will wish to stay for the entertainment?”
Giancarlo bowed slightly. “I must tender my regrets, your grace. My business here is done.”
Wilhelm frowned slightly. “Well, good luck to you, then.”
Giancarlo and his men marched out, and Wilhelm saw him favor Erich with a respectful nod of his head as he left. A spark of displeasure shot through him, but then Giancarlo was gone and it was too late to say anything.
Finally he turned to his brother and delivered the speech he had been preparing for years, ever since he had assumed his father’s title.
“For a decade, I have suffered as a result of your treachery,” he began slowly. “For ten years, I have struggled on these mechanical legs and endured the disparaging glances of those who think themselves my betters. Your despicable existence has gnawed at my soul since Father drove you out instead of killing you on the spot as he should have. The pain I have endured is beyond your imagination.”
“You were going to kill me, Wilhelm,” Erich said evenly. “Should I have killed you instead?”
“Silence!” he roared. “Gag him, so I do not need to listen to his disgusting retorts!”
The guards holding him found a strip of cloth and wrapped it around Erich’s jaw.
For ten minutes, Wilhelm raged at him, recounting a decade of slights real and imagined. He could see many of the servants and guards who watched this scene filling with dread as Wilhelm’s anger poured out, clearly fearing what horrors would accompany the end of this tirade. Finally, Wilhelm’s fury began to ebb. He brought the diatribe to an end and caught his breath.
“I am not going to kill you, my brother,” Wilhelm said. “Oh, no. I am going to teach you the meaning of suffering. As it took a decade for me to receive my satisfaction, you will wait a decade for yours.” He turned to the guards. “To the dungeon with all of them!”
♦ ♦
Erich was stripped to his smallclothes, chained, and thrown into a cell. He could hear the guards laughing as Ariel and Astrid were likewise jailed. He prayed the men would leave the girls alone, and for now—at least from the sound of it—they did so.
But he knew in his gut this fortunate state would not last. Wilhelm would vent his fury on them because of what it would do to Erich. He could only imagine the horrors he would certainly be made to watch.
He wondered if he should have let Giancarlo kill them, and then die himself, because they were clearly going to die anyway—except Wilhelm would make certain they did not die easily.
Erich wriggled around, trying to see if there was any weakness in his chains, but there was none. They were new and solid. This cell had likely been waiting for him a long time.
But wriggling around succeeded in slipping off his gag. He slid as close to the door as he could.
“Ariel? Astrid?” he said softly. “Can you hear me?”
There was a quiet whimper.
He knew the answer to this, but asked anyway. “Is there any way you can cast some sort of spell, despite your restraints?”
The whimper that came back more or less confirmed it.
“Try to see if you can get your gags off.”
But whatever Wilhelm’s guards had done, it seemed they were unable to do anything.
Erich sat by the door for a long time, talking softly to them, apologizing for having failed them.
“Just be brave,” he said finally. “Just know that whatever they do to your bodies, or mine, Wilhelm cannot destroy what we have.”
Quiet sobbing came down the hall for a long time.
♦ ♦
Time ran together in the dark. He heard low conversation, and the sounds of things being moved around. After some indeterminate period, Erich heard the door to the dungeon open. There was a clanking noise that he assumed was Wilhelm’s automaton legs, then some talking he could not make out.
The door to his cell opened. Two guards came in, unchained him from the wall, and dragged him to his feet. He was led out of the cell and down the hall into what was clearly a large torture chamber. The light was low, but he could see a table laid out with a large collection of blades, clamps, screws, and other implements. Wilhelm was sitting in a chair, watching. Two more guards appeared with clubs, and watched as the first two chained Erich to the wall at one end.
Then they brought out Ariel and Astrid, both still gagged. They had clearly been crying before, but were now stone-faced. They were chained together to a frame in the middle of the room. They glanced back and forth between him and Wilhelm.
“Well,” Wilhelm said. “So nice to have the family all together again.”
“What can I offer you to let them go?”
Wilhelm laughed. “You have nothing to offer me but your suffering, which will be made all the sweeter by beginning with them.”
“They are powerful mages. You take a risk by torturing them.”
Another laugh. “I have had mages who failed me tortured before, in this very room. They died like any other man. Do not try to bluff me. There is nothing you can say that will save them.”
Erich closed his eyes, trying to retain control of himself.
“Wilhelm, they have done nothing to offend you. Your quarrel is with me.”
“They have offended me by giving you pleasure!” Wilhelm thundered. “They have offended me by every moment they have been in your presence with your legs intact! And for that they will pay!”
He rose and stormed over to Ariel, tearing her dress apart, leaving her in only her shift. He tore Astrid’s dress off a moment later. He could see the girls fighting to avoid crying, though Astrid also seemed to be fighting to say something.
“You will watch every moment of this,” Wilhelm said to Erich. “Every time you close your eyes, I will cut a finger from one of them.”
“Remember what I said,” Erich called out to them. “None of this changes anything.”
Wilhelm laughed. “No more gags. I want you to hear them crying.” He jerked down Astrid’s gag, then prepared to tear off her shift.
“Wait!” she cried out.
Wilhelm laughed again. “What? You wish to beg for your honor? For mercy? To stay my hand against your husband? Well, then, go ahead and beg. I will listen.”
“No,” Astrid gasped. “It is not that. It’s that I think we can heal your legs.”
32.
There was silence in the torture chamber for long moments. Of all the things Wilhelm had expected to hear, it was not this.
“What?” he asked softly.
“We can heal you,” Astrid said again. “We are skilled at natural magic.”
Wilhelm scowled.
“Do you think I have done nothing these past ten years? Do you think it has not occurred to me to retain your ilk to repair my infirmity? The best mages I have found have not been able to do it. Why should I believe you could?”
“Who was it? Who tried to heal you?”
“Our court mage, and all of his underlings. He has served our family for forty years, and has skills far beyond yours. He was unable to do it.”
“What kind of mage is he?”
A measure of doubt crept into Wilhelm’s mind.
“A mage. I do not know. He built these legs. He is a master. Many have marveled over the workmanship.”
But the girl only gasped. “You mean he’s an artificer? No wonder he failed!”
“What are you talking about?”
“Artificing is only concerned with giving life to dead things, crystals and metal, not flesh. The disciplines are as opposed as they could be. My father is a master artificer, but he could not heal a broken wing on a sparrow!”
Wilhelm stood there, aghast. Could it be? He spun around toward the guards.
“Fetch the chief artificer at once!” he roared. Then he turned to the girl. “If you are deceiving me, you will pay in ways you cannot imagine.”
“I am telling the truth. I swear it.”
They waited in silence as two guards ran out to get his court mage. They returned in a few minutes.
“Your grace?” the man said. “What is the matter?”
Wilhelm regarded him with a steely glare.
“Is it true that your arts with automata are opposed to those of healing?”
The man quailed. “Your grace . . . I do not understand the question.”
“This girl here tells me she is skilled at, what was it?”
“Naturalism.”
“She tells me her discipline is opposed to yours, and that is why you were unable to heal my legs. Is this true?”
The old man shrunk before him, quivering. “Your grace . . . your wounds were grave. We did what we could . . . magic is unpredictable.”
The Wizard's Daughters: Twin Magic: Book 1 Page 17
