Knight of the Realm tya-3

by P. S. Power

  Well, that explained that, didn't it? Tor went back, into the dark with no lights at all, and started feeling around for objects to work with. The only things he could find were a pitcher of water that might or might not be poisoned, and a glass.

  Everything that belong to him was gone, of course, though they'd dressed him in a loose silk outfit. It had no buttons or solid fasteners of any kind, not even cloth ties. Tor wondered for a few seconds if he could attach a field to silk? Or to whatever the bedding was made from? He'd never heard of that, but then again, his education had been less than complete when he left school. Maybe it was the easiest thing in the world?

  Just to be safe though, Tor decided to go with something more solid. The bed was made of wood and so was the table the pitcher was on. Good hard woods from the sense he got off them. All he had to do was make a simple cutting field and he could take large pieces off to work with. His breath caught and a smile flashed over his face, making his beard pull in a couple places where it was matted together.

  The walls and floor were stone. Hard, blue-gray and shiny. Given his preference, that was the material he'd take. He had to find a corner to shave stone off, but feeling around it only took a few minutes. The cutting took longer, but in under half an hour he held three nice slabs of stone, about as thick as two of his fingers and as long as his hand each. He could have gone with something smaller, but it was still pitch black in the room and really, he didn't want to accidentally slice off a hand or finger trying to make everything perfect, when good enough would do.

  Hours later he had everything ready. A cutter that was by far the largest field of its type he'd ever worked with, nearing six-foot in sweep. That was just in case he needed to go through walls that were thicker than he thought they would be. Then, just to move debris from his path, he formed a decently strong explosive weapon, but, it was shielded on all sides but one, so all the force would move away from him directly. Like what a force lance might dream of being when it grew up. Destroying anything in its path, but also moving it away from whoever held the device at the same time, for close work. It was something Tor had been working on for a while, so that if he had to threaten anyone he wouldn't have to use his mega explosive or risk other people around him, since that would just be insane.

  Still, this one wouldn't go through his own shields, so something better was going to be needed if he had to keep fighting his supposed friends. To round the whole thing out he had a shield. At first he thought that holding the three devices in his hands at once would be hard, but he figured out a way quickly enough. Shield in the left, the other two side by side in the right. The cutter could be left on and he could use his thumb to trigger the blast field.

  Right. Tor stood up and tried to shake the feeling back into his arms and legs, after about ten minutes of this he triggered the shield and took a deep breath, just as the door opened, showing a medium sized giant figure in silhouette. The form reached over and tapped a sigil by the door, causing the lights to go on in the room.

  “Gah!” Tor felt nearly blind suddenly, the light was so intense. It was just that normal kind of lights being too much in the morning thing though, and while he had to shield his eyes with his arm again, he could still see at least. Sort of. It was freaking bright. Tor pointed the two devices in his right hand and took several steps back just in case an attack was coming.

  “Tor?” The Queen’s voice was baffled and confused sounding. “What are you doing out of bed? The doctor said you should rest undisturbed… I… are you looking at me?” She added suddenly, voice going excited.

  “Of course. Well kind of, it's awfully bright in here suddenly. But yeah, I managed to get my sight back. It's what I've been working on… How long have I been out?”

  “Only two days. You were eating and responsive enough, changing your clothing and such when asked… We were told you'd be blind forever… Smythe is.” Her voice wasn't accusing, but Tor felt horrible anyway. He'd cut off the man's hand and left him blind? God. What kind of monster was he? Was Smythe just right about him?

  Taking a deep breath Tor shuddered for a second.

  “Oh.” It wasn't a brilliant statement, but was the best he had at the moment. He struggled mentally, his mind working, but blank at the same time. “Am I not a prisoner then? The guards seemed kind of like they weren't letting me leave earlier, I was just about to escape.”

  Well, he was about to try at least. If the Royal Guard used that weapon of Smythe's, he'd never make it. For that matter Tor wondered how escaping would have worked at all anyway. He should have made some kind of device to help him flee too. Duh. Was he going to just walk out of the city? They'd taken his money, so he couldn't even hire a carriage and really, given everything, running barefoot would probably be a bit much to ask in the moment. Stupid of him to not have thought that through.

  “Oh! No. You're not a prisoner, the guards were just there to make sure you were safe. I'll send them away now.” She turned to the door and waved the men away, without pause they walked off.

  Tor almost laughed. It wasn't like there weren't six more hidden in the walls, right? If he'd found the light they probably would have attacked him when he started cutting things up. Then again, if he really wasn't being held against his will, maybe not. The Royal Guard didn't protect the furniture, or even the building, just the nobles. Some of them had even stolen some statues for him from the garden once. Just because he'd asked. They definitely didn't play be the same rules as everyone else, did they?

  Connie stood for a moment looking at him hard, his eyes finally adjusting to the bright light. She walked towards him slowly and put a hand out to touch his arm, which didn't work, the shield protecting him. Instead of doing anything useful, she started crying. Tor felt like crossing his arms at her, but didn't want to tie up his weapons hand, the situation was still too uncertain, and besides, in a real fight she could probably kick his ass without half trying. He wasn't about to drop his shield for cuddles and hugs right now.

  Without saying anything the Queen gestured for him to follow her, tears running down her cheeks still, but an odd smile on her face. Following almost by rote, Tor wondered what would be coming next. Probably not an attack. If they'd wanted to do that, they had a better chance before, when he was blind and unprotected. A simple swipe with a cutter and it would have been over. It would take a lot more work now. So what then? Humiliate him publicly? Kick him out in his pajamas? Well, he was taking his stuff with him if that was the case. If he could find it at least. That wasn't too likely he realized. They could have locked it up in a secret vault or hid it in the kitchen pantry. Really, if they just set it in some room at random he'd probably never find it here, the place was just too large.

  Gah.

  Walking slowly Tor lowered the weapons in his hand, but tried to stay mentally alert. Even if the Queen had lied to him about Trice, letting him feel horrible all that time, it wouldn't do to walk her around at the point of not one, but two death weapons. Finally she lead him into a small chamber lined with soft couches for sitting. The cushions were all crushed green velvet, a dark color that reminded him of the pine forest he grew up in.

  In that moment, oddly enough, he missed Two Bends, backwater or not. Most of all he missed the way it smelled and how safe he'd felt there. Even walking into this room, filled with people that had called themselves his friends at one point, he didn't feel safe at all.

  Tor looked around carefully, no one had noticed him yet, but that was fine. It was the royal family, Trice, Ursala and Tovey. Ursala saw him first, her eyes looking first bright, slightly teary and surprised, then shocked. She didn't move though. The first one to move was Princess Veronica, who threw herself at him, trying to hug him. She couldn't of course, which got the girl to laugh and tap her own shield off, so that she could kiss him. Tor didn't move though, shaking his head instead.

  “No. I'll stay shielded thank you.” His voice was cold, icy, and hard, like stone. Rolph swallowed and nodded, but Varley
looked hurt as she pulled back.

  “Now,” the scene had to be ridiculous, even if no one laughed. His five-foot-four frame standing nearly even with the sitting King, who was even leaning back a little on the sofa across from the door, right in front of him. Still, Tor needed to know the truth and did something he'd rarely done in life, and focused on the King’s field, the information and energy that made him up, his attention becoming intense as he spoke.

  “Did you order Smythe to attack me?” He asked, his voice harsh and soft at the same time, barely a whisper.

  “No, I…” The monarch stopped when Tor raised his right hand, towards the ceiling, not pointing the stone shard weapons at him.

  “Did you collude with him to attack me? To blind me?”

  “No.” The King’s voice was firm, but not angry sounding.

  His field was anxious, worried and stressed, but it felt honest enough. Tor nodded and asked one more thing.

  “Did you consider, even for a moment, that it would hurt me when you ordered Trice to say those things about me? That I might take damage from it?”

  Turmoil rose within the man suddenly, fear even, as incongruent as that seemed coming from a royal giant. Still his head high he answered, a stream of what appeared to be more or less honesty behind it. Not perfect and not complete, but mainly the truth as he saw it.

  “Yes. I… knew it had that potential. I'd hoped to keep it from you, but felt it was needed, only…”

  Tor walked away from the man abruptly, not needing to hear any excuses, and questioned each of the others in turn, using the same kind of focus with each, trying to feel the truth or the lie within them. It was a lot more complicated than not, but no one here had been working with Smythe to harm him at least. Well, that was something. He could work with that, couldn't he? When he got to Trice he stopped and added a single question at the end.

  “Did you ever love me at all, or even… Even like me a little?” It sounded sad and tiny, like he was a child.

  Her answer shocked him, since it wasn't what he expected at all. He'd figured that she, possibly, liked him as a friend, or even felt little to nothing for him, but probably didn't hate him overly. He steeled himself for that. Her hatred.

  “Tor… I love you. I have for a long time.” She said simply, real love, pure and untainted rolling of her for a few moments. Then a wave of sadness joined in. He almost had to go sit down it was so strong, he turned away instead. The only one left was Ursala then. Sighing he asked her the same questions, not if she loved him, that was a moot point anyway. He hadn't asked anyone else that either.

  Then, none of the rest of them had publicly maligned him. Not that he knew about.

  She was dressed in brown fighting leathers and clearly felt mixed emotions about him, but hadn't been working with Smythe to do anything to him. Indeed, she barely knew the man at all.

  “Why are you mad at me?” He asked quietly. She flinched, but didn't turn away.

  “You're trying to help them. Marvin and his bitch. They killed my family Tor! I know they did. No one else would have bothered, would they? You may be able to look past an attempt on your life, but your better than almost anyone I've ever known. I can't look past it. Or my parents, my child…”

  Well, that made sense. Still, Tor wasn't planning to help the Wards, just stop a war and get at the truth. He let the tall blond Countess know that again and nodded to her.

  “If they killed your people, they'll die Ursala, I promise you that, even if I have to kill them myself. Even they know this. The only thing I'm asking for is the truth. If they didn't do it, then it would be wrong to punish them for it.”

  Taking a shuddering breath she examined his face closely for a moment, her feelings for him were warm enough over all, but a single flare of revulsion tore through her too.

  “What?” He asked suddenly, worried that he was just too ugly to look at or something. After he explained what he was doing she looked down, her face going red.

  “Oh, that… well, it's nothing really, but…” Taking a deep breath she just dove in.

  “I hate your beard.”

  For the first time in weeks, Tor laughed, and meant it.

  Chapter four

  Tor was exhausted.

  Really, he could barely keep his eyes open and just wanted to go home and sleep for about half a week. Only, of course, he didn't have a home any more. So that meant he needed to collect his things and find a place to stay soonish, or at least get out of the city so that when he curled up on the ground to nap no one would care. All he needed was his stuff and maybe directions to an inn. Tor had never stayed in one before, so it would be an adventure. Too much had been lately. For a moment he really just wanted to go back to Two Bends and take up baking as a profession.

  Well, too late for that now.

  Maybe somewhere else though?

  The King gestured and suggested that Tor's luggage be found and brought to them, even while the Queen, Rolph and Varley tried to talk him into staying with them. Oddly it was only the middle child that stayed quiet, finally shaking her head when Rolph looked to her for support in his suggestion that they turn the guest house over to Tor for the duration.

  “No. Don't any of you see? The army took his home from him. That means we did. Well dad at least. Or maybe Alphie, since you could have said no and told them to get out. That was after they barred him from it and then attacked him for coming in anyway. His own home! What would any of us do if the guards here attacked us? That's an act of war, our military striking out at a Countier like that without cause, and everyone’s acting like it was just a lark or something! Stay here? I'm amazed he even brought the Wards letters to us. If it were me I would have paid a currier and called it good. Then when he does come, because stopping a civil war is more important to him than his own pride or dignity, we let him be attacked by one of the highest government officials in all Noram. Again. Why isn't anyone talking about that? Why wasn't the man put to death after the first attack? Or at least removed from office? And was he behind the attack at Tor's house? He's the head of the military and clever enough to set something like that up, we all know that. It's part of why he has the job. What do we even know about why he did it?”

  The King sighed and put his right hand on his head. After a while he spoke, his voice sounding nearly as tired already as Tor felt.

  “Smythe was scared honey. He's an old man and the worlds just changing too fast for him. Tor represents not just change, but power, and worse, power that Smythe personally doesn't control, and knows he can't. The first attack was foolish, of course, but I really thought he'd moved past that when Tor didn't retaliate for it, or even demand justice. The war started right on the heels of that, before it was even really over, and he swore that Tor was only being apprehended. It was moronic, but understandable given the situation. What we saw the other day, that was still probably about fear, but now the man has a real reason for it. Before Tor was an able opponent, a builder that might be a little better than some. But now he'd successfully defeated over five hundred men in battle, alone, and chose to leave them alive.” The King shrugged. “I'm sure that to a hardened warrior like Smythe it seemed that Tor was just toying with them. Saying that they were so little threat he could treat them like a few small children instead of a company of soldiers. By all rights it should have been a blood bath. It would have been if Smythe had been there in Tor's place, I'm sure.”

  Tor felt his shoulders hunch. So it was his fault? Somehow he'd scared the military advisor and made it seem like killing him was the only safe course of action? Like Tor was dangerous? He was about to point this out when Tovey snorted. In the year they'd know each other Count Thomson had seldom made any sound that undignified. Pulling his tall form straight while still sitting he nodded.

  “Well, we have a war to fight and possibly two if this peace accord with Ward doesn't hold. Who replaces Smythe then? It would be prudent to act fast and I don't think that trying to hold his position for his ev
entual recovery is wise at this point. As it stands I doubt the man could survive another incident with Master Tor.”

  It was suddenly Master Tor now? From Tovey? Since when was he a master of anything? He wasn't even a shop master or a tradesman, much less the top of his trade. A lot of builders were better than him. Like whoever built that weapon that blinded him the other day. He didn't have a clue how that worked. The light was bright, but it did more than light could somehow. It felt like it seared his very flesh at the time. That had gone away while fixing his eyes, but still… Tor called him on it.

  “And really,” he added at the end. “Not only do I not have a shop or studio, I don't even have a house. Everything I own is in a couple of cases now.”

  Ignoring him almost totally, except a few strained looks, people made military councilor suggestions again. A lot of names came flooding out from the room, but the King held his own council on the matter, as if he already had some ideas of his own, but didn't want to argue them yet. Tor looked up to see Connie staring at him, as if concerned.

  Ah.

  He got it after a few moments, she probably worried about him being homeless. Well, it had happened before. What he really needed was property, something no one could take away. If he had that, the rest could be made to happen. Thinking about it he felt suddenly angry. Why should he be without a home? Hadn't he done enough to earn one? He'd worked constantly and people said that what he did had value even.

  It took an act of will to let go of the thought and focus on the topic at hand, that coming back around to the disposition of the Wards. It was important, obviously, since he'd kind of promised them a real and fair trial. Yay. He should have just killed them when he had a chance and put Petra in as Countess. It would have been easier over all. Wait, she had an older brother ahead of her didn't she? Well, they could saddle him with it then. Maybe he could get Petra to run off with him? The thought was unworthy, so he didn't mention it out loud. The killing part was unworthy, he corrected. Petra wouldn't want to run off with him, but that part would have been fine. They were both single adults and even of comparable station in life. She was Counserina second and in line until Martin had a child with his wife.