"If I don't watch that man closely, he'll deliver whatever he can get away with. We've been playing this game for years. He tells me I'm ruining him by paying too low, and I tell him he's trying to put me out of business with poor quality."
Father Thomas and Mathew exchanged amused glances and watched Ceta disappear into the kitchen. Five minutes later Collin walked sleepily down the stairs, squinting against the light. Father Thomas saw him and hooked his leg around a chair, pulling it into position next to them. Collin came over, sat down, and poured himself a cup of hot tea from the little pot on the table. No one spoke for a while; they just stared into the fire, sipping their drinks.
"You're up early," Father Thomas finally said to Mathew.
"Being stabbed doesn't seem to agree with me," he replied, stifling a yawn, and then added in response to Father Thomas's raised eyebrows, "I'm fine."
"Nice day," Collin observed sourly, looking out the window.
They both glanced up, and then back at the fire.
"Where's Daniel?" Father Thomas asked.
"Still asleep when I left him." Collin yawned while he stretched.
"Father, what time do we need to meet Captain Donal?" Mathew asked.
"In about two hours. He said first tide would be around mid-morning. I expect if we're on board by then, that will be fine with him."
Ceta reappeared a few minutes later carrying two plates of eggs and sausages. "Oh, dear," she said, seeing that Collin had joined them. "It looks like everyone's up early this morning. Just give me a second and I'll be right back. Did you sleep well?" she asked, setting the plates down on the table.
"Yes, ma'am. Mat didn't snore for a change."
"What? I don't snore—do I?" Mathew protested.
Collin rolled his eyes skyward and Father Thomas chuckled, taking another sip of his tea.
"Well, I hope you don't snore, Uncle Siward," she said, affectionately pinching Father Thomas's earlobe, then headed to the kitchen again.
There was a silence.
"You haven't told her yet?" Collin whispered, spilling some of his tea on the table.
"She knows I'm not your uncle, if that's what you mean," Father Thomas replied blandly. "Actually, we were just talking when you both came down."
"I meant about the other thing," Collin said, lowering his voice.
"I'm working on it," Father Thomas said dejectedly.
True to her word, Ceta returned with Collin's breakfast a short while later, which he attacked with gusto. He was finishing his plate when Effie arrived for work and came directly over to the table to say good morning. Before she excused herself to the kitchen, she bent over and said something in Collin's ear, causing him to turn several shades redder. Mathew thought he heard her ask Collin something about his back being all right, but he wasn't
positive. When she was gone, both Father Thomas and Mathew turned to look at him with questioning eyes.
"Umm... I think I'll go upstairs and pack," Collin said, and left abruptly.
Mathew sat quietly for a time, letting the fire warm him, then decided that if he was going to say goodbye to Tilda, he had better get it over with. Excusing himself, he left Father Thomas to his own reflections. But before he got to the door, the sound of a light footfall on the stairs distracted him.
He looked back to see Lara coming down the steps. She was wearing her gray dress, the one he liked. She passed Father Thomas and exchanged a few words with him, then walked across the room to Mathew with a shy smile.
"Good morning," he said. "Did you sleep well?"
"Oh yes, and you?"
"If you consider sleeping with Collin sleeping well."
"Don't sulk," she said, patting his cheek. "Were you going out?"
"I thought I'd say goodbye to Tilda before we leave. Maybe I can find a carrot to bring her," he said, looking around.
"You should probably try the kitchen, silly. I don't think you'll find any carrots just lying around the common room."
Her last comment was so obvious he started to chuckle in spite of himself. She always could make him laugh when she wanted to.
"Would you like me to come with you?" she asked.
"To the kitchen?" he teased.
"To the stable," she said, hitting him gently on the arm.
"Sure."
A brief stop at the kitchen confirmed her prediction regarding the carrot. On their way out Lara waved to Father Thomas, who waved back absently.
"What's the matter with him?" Lara asked in a low voice.
"I think he wants to tell Ceta what he does for a living, and he's having a hard time finding the right words. He's a little worried how she'll react. It's funny, you know, I've never thought of Father Thomas being at a loss for words."
Lara nodded in agreement.
The stable was directly across from the inn, and they hurried across the yard to it. While Mathew was opening the double doors he had a brief moment of misgiving. What if Will Tavish was there? He considered going back for his sword, but decided it would be a waste of time. To no one's surprise, Will had never returned, and everyone figured they had seen the last of him. Overhead, gray clouds began to roll in from the west, accompanied by an occasional rumble of thunder in the distance. They made it inside just before it began raining again.
The interior of the stable was dimly fit by the bleak light of early morning, filtering in through two side windows. In the corner, to the right of the door, someone had stacked several large oil drums. Like many stables, when it rained the damp smell of wet hay mingled with the scent of the horses boarded there. Mathew counted eight stalls, four on either side, each with a horse in it, except for the one on the very end, whose occupant was a donkey. Tilda was in the third stall on the left. She raised her head when she heard his voice, letting out a snort.
Mathew and Lara walked over to her. Without being asked, she picked up a coarse brush in front of the stall and began to groom Tilda's flanks, while Mathew gently rubbed the old mare's nose. After a moment he remembered the carrot and held it out for her to eat. She finished it in three bites, whickering appreciatively. He put his arms around the horse's neck and gave her a hug.
"I'm going to miss you, old girl. We ... just wanted to say goodbye and let you know that we'll come back as soon as we can."
The mare's big brown eyes watched him, and she
stretched her neck out, gently pushing his hand with her head. Mathew felt a tightness in his throat and swallowed.
"At least you won't have to put up with Collin's snoring," he said quickly, trying to hide his embarrassment.
Lara looked up from her brushing. "Collin? That's funny ... I didn't notice him snoring while we were on the road," she said with a frown. "You do, you know," she added.
"Me?" Mathew said, pretending to be offended.
"Mm-hmm. Last night, when we were lying on the bed together, you dozed a little and you snored. You must have been tired."
"Me? I don't believe it."
"Honestly, I—"
Lara never finished her sentence. The light in the stable suddenly grew dim as the doors swung shut. They both turned to look at the same time. At first Mathew thought it must have been the wind. A loud peal of thunder rumbled outside, rattling the windowpanes. It sounded much closer.
"I'll get the doors," Lara said.
Mathew grabbed her arm before she could take another step.
There was something else as well. A smell—an unmistakable smell. He saw them before she did.
"Mathew, what?" Lara said, sensing that something was wrong. Then she followed his gaze and he heard her sharp intake of breath.
Two Orlocks stood in the doorway, and a third was just climbing down from the loft. Fool! his mind screamed. Why didn't I take the sword?
In desperation, Mathew looked around for another way out of the stable, or anything to defend them with, but there was nothing there.
"Get behind me," he said slowly, pulling her by the ar
m.
"Mathew—"
"I said, get behind me," he repeated, never taking his eyes off the creatures in front of him.
Strangely, the Orlocks didn't attack immediately, just as they hadn't attacked on the road that day after Thad Lay-ton's farm. He registered the similarity. They just stood there, staring at them with flat emotionless eyes. Inside the stall, Tilda stamped her foot nervously and whinnied.
Slowly, carefully, Mathew and Lara began to back away. His heart was racing as he searched for a solution. At some unspoken signal, all three Orlocks began to advance. He watched them come, and anger at his own stupidity boiled in his chest. They were both going to die. He spread his arms away from his sides, shielding Lara, keeping himself between her and the Orlocks. The one on his right had a spear that came to a triangular point, and the others were armed with swords. Mathew watched them, gauging his distance as he readied himself to go for the one with the spear.
Maybe I can give her a chance to break for the door, he thought. Only another few feet. .,
He was not prepared for what happened next.
"Give it to me," the one in the middle said. It was the same hoarse whisper he remembered, but the words were clear enough for him to understand.
Mathew stopped retreating and looked at the creature.
Give it to me?
"I won't ask you a second time, boy," the creature said, holding out a slender hand. Its chest rose and fell, and he could hear it breathing.
"We will let you live, human," the one with the spear said. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
He didn't know what they were talking about. The one on the left was looking at Lara.
Lara? Give them Lara? he thought.
He was not going to simply hand her over and run. He'd see them in hell first. If they were going to die, it would be fighting.
Fool! his brain screamed at him again.
"My... what a pretty girl," the one on his right sneered, baring its teeth. The creature's tongue flicked briefly across its lips.
"Mathew," Lara whispered from behind him, her hands tightening on his shoulders.
The middle Orlock beckoned with its fingers once more, holding its palm out. "The ring, boy."
He wasn't sure he heard the last part correctly, and it was then that Mathew realized the creature was not looking at him but at his right arm, or more specifically, his right hand.
The ring? The thought lasted only a second as the Orlock on the left spoke.
"No more talk—kill him. The girl will make a nice . . . toy"
The Orlock's lips stretched back into a grotesque smile, or an approximation of what might pass for a smile on a human. Its sword came up.
The tingling sensation began slowly in Mathew's arm, and from somewhere deep inside of him, he felt a surge of energy unlike anything he had ever experienced. It caused him to gasp in shock.
It was difficult for Lara to say what happened next—her head was buried in Mathew's back, not wanting to see what was about to come. She heard him yell out, 'Wo.'" and felt his shoulders stiffen. The words seemed torn from his very soul. A split second later something warm passed by her face, followed by a brilliant white flash and an enormously loud bang that nearly deafened her. The windows on either side of them, along with the entire forward wall of the stable, exploded outward, along with both of the doors. The force of the concussion was enough to blow out the inn windows, along with those of several other houses, sending a shower of splinters flying in every direction. Daniel, who was just coming to get them, was picked up bodily by the blast and hurled backward.
The air in front of Lara seemed to ripple and distort itself for a moment, the way a pond does when a breeze passes over it. She was stunned by what had just happened, and stared at the opening that had been the front of the building. It was gone—destroyed. Rain and wind were blowing in, sweeping across the floor of the stable.
Of the Orlocks, there was no sign at all. Only a shallow depression in the dirt floor remained where they had been standing only moments before. Mathew slowly sank to his knees, and Lara had to grab him around the waist in order to hold him up. Through the open wall she saw people pouring out of the inn. Her ears still rang from the force of the explosion, and she was finding it difficult to think.
"Mathew?" she whispered. "What happened?"
The sound of her voice seemed to come from far away, but it appeared to steady him. She saw his eyes focus, taking her in, along with their surroundings. The air abruptly stopped rippling and returned to normal.
"Are you all right?" he asked, taking her by the shoulders. He looked her up and down for some sign of an injury.
"Yes ... I think so. What about you? My God, what was that?"
He shook his head. "I don't know," he said. "I was thinking..."
Shouting interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. Mathew's eyes grew wide.
"The Orlocks," he said, spinning to look around him.
"They're gone ... Mathew, they're gone," she said, turning his chin to face her.
Mathew blinked and slowly put a hand to his forehead, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers.
"What is it?"
"I... it's just a headache. Let's get out of here."
She had to help him when his first step faltered. "Mathew ..." _^*No. I'm fine. Let's go."
When they got to the street, he disengaged himself from her arm. It was raining, but they hardly noticed. Akin and a heavy set man he didn't know were helping Daniel to his feet. His friend was cut in numerous places from the splinters.
"What the hell just happened?" Daniel asked.
"The oil drums inside the stable exploded," Mathew answered. "I think it was lightning."
"Lightning?" Daniel said incredulously.
The man who was supporting Daniel's arm looked back at the barn and shook his head. "Do you think you're all right to stand on your feet?" he asked, brushing some splinters off Daniel's shoulders.
"What? Oh, yes, I'm fine," Daniel said. "Thanks very much for your help."
"Just look at that, will you?" the man said, surveying the ruined stable. "We had a lightning strike a few years ago down by the docks. Completely destroyed one of them. You're lucky you're alive, son. Well... doesn't look like anyone got hurt, thank God. I guess we should get inside out of this rain."
"Thanks again," Daniel said, shaking the man's hand.
Father Thomas and Ceta were among the crowd that had gathered. Mathew signaled to them that they were heading inside.
"You were both in the barn when it happened?" Akin asked.
"Right," Mathew replied, but he didn't elaborate, leaving Akin open-mouthed.
After they entered the inn, Mathew went to the least crowded corner of the room, followed by Daniel and Lara, and then Akin and Collin.
"But I don't see how—" Daniel said.
He didn't finish his sentence, because Mathew stepped on his toes.
After checking to see that they were unharmed, Ceta went outside to get a closer look at the barn, and Father Thomas joined them. Mathew was grateful she wasn't with them at the moment.
"Thank God, you're both alive," the priest said. "When we heard the explosion and remembered you were both in the stable, I thought—"
"I'd better get upstairs and pack if we're going to make that ship," Mathew interrupted.
He knew they were all looking at him as if he had just lost his mind, but he didn't care. At the moment, all he wanted to do was to get away from the common room with its crowd of excited people, talking about what had happened, and possible prying eyes and ears.
"Yes. . . well, I guess I'd better change out of this dress," Lara said, picking up on Mathew's cue.
Father Thomas's consternation deepened, but then he caught on too. One by one they all proceeded up the stairs and into Mathew's room. Once everyone was inside, Collin and Daniel pushed two of the beds aside to make more room. Akin sat on the small wooden desk with his
back against a rough plaster wall.
Mathew recounted what happened, and the others listened but said nothing. Occasionally, he looked at Lara, who nodded in confirmation. When he finished, he walked over to the window and stared down at the street below. Father Thomas and Akin exchanged troubled glances.
"But I still don't understand," Daniel said. "If lightning hit the stables, there would have been some kind of charring or blackening of the timbers. Even from where I was standing, I could tell that didn't happen. The whole wall exploded out, not in. The damage would have been going the other way if it was lightning."
"You said you were confused about why the Orlocks picked Devondale," Mathew said, speaking to Father Thomas. He was still looking out of the window. "And why a raiding party the size we met in the forest would bother to follow us for over a week. Well, I don't think they're following us. I think they're following me."
There was a long silence.
"What makes you say that, my son?" Father Thomas eventually asked.
Mathew watched a raindrop slide down one of the glass panes. "I don't know," he said, turning around to face the others. "But I think it has something to do with this ring."
"Your ring?" Daniel said, surprised.
"Giles's ring," Mathew corrected him. "I don't know what it is . . . and I can't explain it. . . but there's something odd about it."
He pulled the ring off his finger and looked at it for a second, turning it back and forth, then placed it on the table next to his bed.
"What are you talking about, Mat?" Collin asked.
"I'm not sure myself. I know it sounds crazy, but strange things have been occurring ever since I put it on."
"Such as?" Daniel asked.
Mathew took a deep breath and explained what had happened to his vision in the forest. He told them about it turning green, and being able to see in the dark through the smoke. While he was talking, Daniel walked over, picked the ring up and hefted it in his palm, then handed it to Akin.
"Heavy," Akin said. "I haven't worked with gold very much, but this is heavier than any ring of its size I've ever felt. And I've never seen this color before—if it is gold."
"You think this ring had something to do with what happened to you?" Daniel asked, his tone skeptical.
Mitchell Graham - [Fifth Ring 01] - The Fifth Ring (v1.0) Page 26
