Prisoner

by Megan Derr

  "Leave me alone."

  "Shut up," von Adolwulf said. "Hold still. If I have to hold you down, I will."

  Beraht made a face. "I'm in excruciating pain, and you wake up and start threatening more pain. Typical. Go back to sleep; it's too early in the morning to put up with you."

  "It's late afternoon."

  "Still too early," Beraht said, drawing his hand back as von Adolwulf finished and examining it suspiciously. Unable to find anything wrong, except that he was wearing a bandage instead of using magic to fix the wound, Beraht used his left hand to grab the water glass. It was empty, because he'd spilled it a moment ago. Biting back more curses, he reached for the pitcher and poured more.

  Silence fell for several minutes. Finally, the driving pain in his head faded to a dull, throbbing aggravation—not a great improvement, but better. Another day or two and he'd be back to normal. Hopefully. As normal as he could get, he supposed. "I'm still alive, so it either worked or failed miserably. I'm hoping the fact that I feel like I lost a drinking contest means I succeeded."

  Von Adolwulf laughed, the sound doing nothing to help his head. "Yes, Beraht. As soon as everyone calms down, you'll be a hero."

  Beraht rolled his eyes and drank more water. He stared at the empty glass, contemplating the positives and negatives of attempting food. Better not to try yet. Distraction then. He looked up. And up. Von Adolwulf needed to sit down. "What are you doing here?"

  "Watching you," von Adolwulf said. "You kept thrashing around and tearing the bandages off your hand last night after I brought you up here. You finally wore yourself out and fell asleep." He scrubbed his face. "I wish you could have slept a little longer."

  "So go back to bed," Beraht said irritably. "Believe me, I wish I'd stayed. Stars, my head hurts." The dull throb had flared back into a grinding pain. "Stars take them all. I'm going back to bed, and I'm not waking up until I'm either feeling better or finally dead. So by all means go find your own bed."

  "I'm under strict orders not to leave you alone."

  Beraht glared, then gave up and climbed into bed. "Fine, whatever. Grab your stupid sword and cuddle up with it. Just don't wake me up." Pulling up the blankets, he immediately fell back asleep.

  When he woke again, the first thing he noticed was that he was no longer in crippling pain. It was at the same level as going a few days without arcen, which was bearable. The second thing he noticed was that he was hot. Beraht shoved his hair out of his face and glowered at von Adolwulf's back.

  He climbed out of bed and helped himself to what remained of the water. Feeling marginally more alive, he crossed the room and pulled on the cord. Please let someone understand it meant food. Beraht collapsed into a chair at the table, staring unseeing at the mostly-dead fire.

  All things considered, he was feeling remarkably empty—and not just in his stomach. His entire body seemed to be missing something. Magic, he supposed. Or whatever had given Illussor their ability to use magic. Funny he'd never noticed it before. But that was part ignorance and mostly arcen.

  Was there food coming? Beraht folded his arms on top of the table and used them to pillow his head, letting his eyes close and trying vainly to ignore the headache that was steadily getting worse.

  The click of the door opening roused him from his doze, and he blinked a couple of times before he realized that Esta was standing at the table with a tray of food—plenty enough for two or three. Von Adolwulf had woken as well. How had Beraht not heard him?

  "Are you feeling any better?" Esta asked, looking concerned. So strange to see worry plain on her face.

  Beraht smiled. "I'm fine. Just a headache. Is everything…" He trailed off and accepted a plate gratefully, more interested in food than questions.

  Esta handed a plate to von Adolwulf, who accepted it with a nod, and then sat down. "Once you're feeling better, Matthias would like to see everyone in his chambers. He thinks it would be best if we waited to talk until then." She smiled, and there was a wealth of emotion in the simple expression. "But you did it."

  "Good," Beraht said. "I would hate to be in this much pain for failing." He went back to eating, digging eagerly into the meats and cheeses and small pastries. Esta laughed, but he barely noticed. Von Adolwulf's comments he did notice, and Beraht paused long enough to shoot him a glare. "Let's see how you feel after destroying magic."

  Von Adolwulf gave one of his taunting grins. "But you do it so well, and it's the quietest I've ever seen you."

  "Shut up," Beraht said and went back to devouring the contents of his plate. "Do I have time to clean up?"

  "Of course," Esta said and stood up. "Take your time. We'll be in Matti's office when you're done. Do you know where that is?"

  "I do," von Adolwulf said before Beraht could speak. "We'll be there in an hour's time." Esta nodded her head, shoulders dipping in a slight bow. Gathering the skirts of her dress, she bid them farewell and left.

  "So why are you playing nursemaid?" Beraht asked, shoving his plate aside and standing up—slowly. The headache had begun to ease now that he'd eaten, but he didn't doubt for a moment that it would take any opportunity to flare up again.

  Von Adolwulf stood with him. "When we finally were able to get inside, you were more dead than alive. We had almost given up when you seemed to revive. Matthias feared a relapse, given how much pain you were obviously in."

  "How long have I been unconscious?"

  "Three days."

  Beraht blinked. "Oh. You decided the best way to make sure I didn't die was to fall asleep?"

  "I cannot stay awake for more than two days straight at a time," von Adolwulf said, face clouding. "I would have known if something was wrong."

  "Sure."

  "Clearly you're feeling better," von Adolwulf said. "Get clean. I'm sure everyone is tired of waiting on your headaches." He turned around sharply and stalked from the room. Beraht half expected the door to slam, but it didn't.

  What had put him in such a snit? Bastard. There was a knock at the door and then servants were carrying in a bath and hot water. They looked as haggard as he felt. An hour later, Beraht stepped into the hallway, smoothing down a dark brown coat and matching breeches. The throbbing in his head had receded to a dull ache.

  He still wanted to go back to bed.

  Von Adolwulf was waiting for him, leaning against the wall like a hulking shadow. Black. Did he never wear anything with colors? Then again, Beraht couldn't really picture von Adolwulf in the jeweled tones that were in favor. But really dark shades… Beraht shook his head, then immediately regretted it. "You always look like you're going to a funeral," he said in an effort to ignore his aching head.

  "Indeed," von Adolwulf said. "Ready?"

  "Yes, nursemaid," Beraht replied and set off without waiting for von Adolwulf. But he fell into step beside Beraht easily, sword jangling at his hip. "Do you really need to wear that sword everywhere?"

  Von Adolwulf grinned in that way that always set Beraht's teeth on edge—because von Adolwulf was about to be painfully, obviously right about something. "As it stands, I'm the only one in the palace who knows how to fight. So yes, I really do need to wear it."

  "Like you ever needed a sword to inflict damage," Beraht muttered.

  "It's usually enough to discourage."

  Beraht rolled his eyes, but bit back pointing out that most people who saw von Adolwulf ran long before they saw the sword. Which drew his attention to an oddity that had escaped him until then. "There's no one running away from you." He shook his head—then winced—and tried again when von Adolwulf looked at him in annoyance. "I mean there's no one around."

  "Everyone is recovering. Much like you. Matthias has ordered an entire week of quiet and rest. He sent out dozens of messengers to explain things to the outlying towns, but even they were barely able to function. Tomorrow morning he's arranged to speak to the ministers and a handful of nobility. He and the others were all resting until a day or so ago. Losing the magic was a bit more taxing than
anyone anticipated. As you've seen, some of the servants are about, but very few—not even a third the normal number." Von Adolwulf looked tired for a moment, but then his expression was as stony as ever. "Iah was not hit as hard; he and Sol have been managing things while I watched you."

  Beraht nodded, processing the information. An entire country laid low. It was a good thing spring was still a month or more away—if not for the winter, the country would have been in a very dangerous position.

  He felt a chill, recalling that the Brothers knew where they were, but there was no possible way they could know why. Nor was Kria a threat. So there was nothing to fear.

  Except his headache, which did not seem to want to go away. Every time he thought it was beginning to ebb, the pain came rushing back. Stars take it. He stifled a yawn as they reached Matthias' office. "I really am not in the mood for a long discussion that requires thinking."

  "Since when have you ever stopped to think about anything?" von Adolwulf replied. He smirked when Beraht shot him a withering glare. "Even when Breaking, you just barreled on ahead. One would think you'd learn at some point."

  Beraht ignored him and shoved his way past when von Adolwulf opened the door, immediately taking a chair as far from the sunlight streaming through the window as possible. Looking around the room, he noticed an exhaustion in Esta, curled up in a chair close to the desk, that he hadn't seen before. The same weariness was shared by all the others, save Sol and Iah, who looked tired, but not haggard. "So I guess what we really need to do is go back to bed."

  "You are probably correct," Matthias said with a weak, but sincere smile. "Before much longer, people will begin to stir. It's amazing they're not rioting already—in a way, it's a good thing the Breaking temporarily incapacitated everyone." He frowned. "Though I hope it did not prove too detrimental to those in the outer lying regions…"

  Esta shook her head. "What's done is done, Matti. Let's just focus on moving forward." Her eyes drooped, slid shut, then popped back open. "Everyone, more or less, seems to have survived. Which means the first and hardest stage is complete.

  "I wouldn't say that was the hardest part," Kalan said, his perpetual humor absent. "Keeping that riot that Matthias mentioned from happening, that'll be the hard part."

  "How will they riot?" von Adolwulf asked. "I would actually like to see it—a display of physical outrage rather than magical. It would give me an idea of where to begin training." He ignored the looks the rest of the group gave him, but subsided into silence.

  Beraht sighed. "So you're planning to meet with your ministers and explain things?"

  "Yes," Matthias said slowly. "I'm not quite certain how that will go. This all seemed a lot easier in the planning. I wish I could have anticipated feeling so—"

  "Dead," Kalan offered. "Like waking up after a night of debauchery, only there are no fun memories to go along with the headache."

  Beraht laughed. "I thought the same thing."

  "Just what have you two been doing that you know exactly what it feels like to wake up after a night of debauchery?" Esta asked, eyes flaring with her usual temper.

  Kalan grinned, apparently his humor had not been completely defeated by exhaustion after all. "Just from what I hear, of course."

  Beraht snorted, but said nothing. "So what exactly do we do now?"

  Matthias shrugged. "Go on like normal. Those used to going magicless in the palace will adjust with the most ease. I've already sent men off to carry explanations; as people grow used to living without magic, I will send them out to instruct and help. The hardest part is up to Dieter."

  "As I said before—do not interfere in whatever I do unless you have a very good reason." Von Adolwulf's eyes were hard, much like they'd been when Beraht had been his prisoner. "What I do will not be liked by anyone, but it will be necessary."

  Matthias sighed. "When I first asked you, I mentioned that I anticipated many a headache, and it is better to have you wreaking havoc for us rather than against us. I can't promise Esta won't tear you apart, but no one else will interfere unless they want to spend the night in stocks." He grinned. "All right, I can't swear Beraht won't bother you, either, but I can't put him in the stocks."

  "It would be a wasted effort anyway," von Adolwulf replied. Beraht ignored them both.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  "Get up," Dieter said. He watched, unmoved, as the man on the ground before him slowly clambered to his feet—and dropped after making it halfway. "Get up, or I'll beat you."

  The man glared. "You'll beat me anyway."

  "Wrong," Dieter replied. He sheathed his sword. "So far you've only been losing. You'd be plenty capable of pushing forward if you'd start thinking that you can. Stand up and put some effort into it, or I'll show you the difference between a loss and a beating. I don't have time to waste on men who insist on being weak."

  Standing up, driven by anger, the man began to shout. His hair was pale blonde, nearly white, and his blue eyes were pale to the point they would appear almost fragile if not for the fury that colored them. He wore old pants and an older shirt, like every other man assembled in the yard Dieter had commandeered for training. A bruise smeared one cheek, and there would be many more and a few cuts when he removed his clothes later that night. "Weak? I am not weak! But you cannot treat us like those brutes in your army."

  "You're the same type and structure as any Krian. All you lack is skill." Dieter stalked across the yard, hand on his sword, though he didn't draw it. "You have plenty of potential. You do quite well when you forget about magic or being offended by a few bruises." He drew his sword, steel hissing against leather, and held the blade just shy of the man's throat. "Your manner leaves much to be desired, however, as does your mindset. Pick up your sword, or you'll be dismissed from practice the rough way."

  "Do whatever you want, Krian," the man spat. "We don't have to take this."

  "Wrong," Dieter said. His movements were fast and flawless as he sheathed his sword and then sent the man to the ground with a fist to his stomach—almost, but not quite, hard enough to knock him unconscious. Dieter grabbed him by his shirtfront and hauled him back up. "You do have to take it. And you will. Like it or not, I'm in charge here." Dieter let him drop and looked at the other men gathered around them. Every last man seemed to vibrate with anger or fear, perhaps both and more besides. "Hate me all you like. Ignore me if you want. No one is forcing you to come. But I won't be held responsible when you're cut down by pirates or Krians or Salharans. If you've come to learn," Dieter looked at the man on the ground, "you'll respect and obey me. You're dismissed for the day, and if you act this way tomorrow, you'll be bedridden for a long time. Is that clear?"

  The man made no reply, merely picked himself up and stalked out of the yard. Dieter looked around the circle of gathered men. "Who's next?" Then he realized their attention had shifted. Spinning around, Dieter stared furiously at the arrival. "You shouldn't be here."

  "What?" Esta lifted a brow. "Women aren't allowed?"

  "Civilians aren't allowed," Dieter replied. "Unless you're ready for practice, you are not allowed in the yard. If you want to watch, find a different location." He ignored the murmurs and whispers filtering around the yard.

  Esta laughed then gave Dieter a short bow. "Yes, sir. I merely wanted to see how the men were faring and offer whatever encouragement I could. Even you, General, will concede they could use it." Her expression dared him to countermand her.

  Dieter bit back a laugh. He was amazed only that she didn't already wear a crown. "Do not delay practice overlong, Duchess."

  "As you say, General." Esta nodded to him and then wandered toward the crowd of men, speaking to them in low tones, drawing out smiles. Dieter let them be, sheathing his own sword and leaning against the wall with arms folded. If the men knew they had the support of Lady Esta, whom they more or less regarded as a queen-to-be, perhaps they would be more willing to cooperate. The prince's words had helped, but Esta would have far more an effect than
Matthias.

  "A fine sword," Esta said, her voice pitched loud enough to reach all the assembled men. She spoke to a young man, roughly sixteen or so, who looked stunned that she would speak to him.

  "Yes, Duchess." The young man nodded slowly, still uncomfortable with his sword, but pleased all the same by her compliment.

  "Have you a girl waiting for you back home?" Esta asked, and she clearly bit back a grin as he began to talk eagerly about the girl he did in fact have. "She sounds lovely," Esta said when he finally finished. "And her name is Klara, you said?"

  The young man nodded, taking the ribbing of his friends good naturedly. "Yes, Duchess."

  "A good name. Is that what you will call your sword, then?"

  Around her, the men frowned. "Your grace?"

  Esta laughed, and Dieter listened as she explained the Krian custom to them. He wondered where she'd heard it and frowned when she winked at him on her way out. Dieter pushed off the wall to return to the center of the yard. "Are we finished chatting?" he asked the men.

  They did look somewhat less morose, and some even looked up to a fight. That was certainly much better than their giving up and slinking off to their rooms. Dieter motioned them back into place. One man didn't move, however—the younger man who had first drawn Esta's attention. His chin lifted in challenge, and Dieter noticed several men hovered in anticipation of his reaction to whatever the man was about to say. "So what's your sword named?"

  Dieter paused. He should have anticipated that, given Esta's attempt to make the men more comfortable with their weapons. "Bright," he said. "My sword's name is Bright. As you've energy enough to spare for asking questions, you can be the next up."

  The young man winced, but obediently drew his sword. Steel rang against steel, followed rapidly by the sound of someone hitting the ground.