Those coming from the compound were mounted and they could cover the distance fastest. Sean knew that the archers would stop and begin firing volleys as soon as they were in range. Since the mages were advancing too, they would likely start their mayhem at the same time as the archers, though they didn’t need to close the distance.
With a long sweep of his hand, every living thing in Sean’s range of view, died. God, I’m beginning to really hate black magic.
In the face of all that death, Sean led them forward in grim silence. By the time they reached the front gate, several men on the walls had thrown their swords from the wall and knelt in plain sight with their hands on their heads. He could hear the commander inside yelling orders and it sounded like he was getting frantic.
Sean exploded the gate open and the flying shards of wood lay out another swath of death and destruction. Sean regretted that many of the men appeared to have already surrendered, but he couldn’t help that now. His men flooded into the compound and took the fight to a more personal level. He could no longer deal out swaths of death. He drew his swords and waded in along with the rest of them; this was a much more satisfactory way to wage war.
Cordan reached the back gate about twenty minutes later to find them thrown open and men scattering away as fast as they could run. He let them go; none of them were armed. Those who couldn’t clear the gates before he reached them threw themselves to their knees and laced their fingers on top of their heads.
When the fighting stopped, Sean dismounted, took about three steps away from Prince and threw up. He gagged and heaved until he thought he was going to turn himself inside out. Larry was at his side and Sean hung his weight from his shoulder and threw up again. When he thought he could stand and not puke for a while, he turned to find Tomas waiting for him.
“Is this your first battle?” he asked, sympathetically.
“Not really,” he said, and he washed his mouth out with some water another man offered him. “Using black magic turns my stomach.” Sean glanced toward the gate. “I used a lot of it out there. It’s all yours now, Ruihano, make of it what you can; I need some air.”
He was just turning away when another man came up with a prisoner who looked like he might faint if he got any closer. “Ruihano, Dioruihano,” he looked at Sean when he said the last honorific. “This man says that they had ten demons stabled here. He says that they were all sent into the city without handlers.”
Sean sighed. I guess I’m not done yet. “I’ll find them. What do you want me to do with the bodies?”
“What can you do with the bodies?” asked the new ruihano, surprised that he had asked that question. Sean looked at him while he tried to assemble a list of the possible things he could do, but he didn’t have to give it. “I don’t care what you do with them,” he added. “Just make them go away.
Sean went from street to street, searching until long after midnight, but finding only six of the eight remaining demons and their mad horses. The chaos and destruction they had left in their wake was heartbreaking. Too bad the commander who had ordered their release hadn’t survived the battle.
When he finally came upon the last two, he saw something that chilled his heart. Standing in the middle of the dark market square was a demon sitting quietly on his horse facing an indistinct form that could only be a person on foot.
The demon and his horse were quiet, so Sean approached him in kind. He left his men in the shadows of the street with orders to be silent. As he got closer, he could pick out that, what he had thought was a single form, was in fact a young couple, standing frozen in each other’s arms. Too terrified to move, they stood trembling only a few feet beyond the demon’s reach. As Sean entered the square, the demon turned his head to look at him. His horse tossed his head and snorted, but under the rider’s firm hand, he remained stationary.
As Sean wove through the deserted stalls and scattered produce, he saw that the last unaccounted-for demon and his horse were lying a few yards away, already dead. The broken and bloody condition of the bodies said that they had been killed by someone who was also mounted and that certainly wasn’t the young man standing in the middle of the square holding what might be his fiancé. As far as Sean knew, they were the only men riding through the city and he certainly hadn’t fought this or any of the other demons he had found; he hadn’t bothered to get close enough.
As Sean drew closer to the demon, he swiveled his helmeted head from Sean to the young couple and back again. His movements were slow, as if he moved under water. The fact that Sean moved should have been enough to trigger him to attack. Hell, the fact that the young couple breathed should have been enough.
Prince snorted and Sean whispered, “Be good.” He sidled Prince closer, and when the other horse reached for Prince’s flank with his jagged teeth, Sean muzzled him so that all he could do was butt his head at them. Still the demon sat still and just watched.
Sean sidled Prince even closer; now they were knee to knee and the destrier was hunching and blowing. Sean gripped the man’s arm and sent a healing through him. Like he had done for Manuel, he used all of his healing power on him, and he was stronger now than he had been then.
The demon doubled over his hand, and his harsh gasp quickly evolved into a strangled scream as his body tried to jerk. His horse started to pitch; his head was down between his knees and his tail thrashed.
Sean spared a little magic to hold the horse and a small amount of attention to wonder why the young couple still stood in front of him. It was a good thing they stood so still; with a running target to focus on, the horse might have been harder to hold.
When the man slumped forward in his saddle, Sean switched his attention to the horse. Using his previous experience, he removed the torture devices and healed the wounds. He would need a lot more work, but for now, he was quieter. Sean swung himself over behind the unconscious rider and took up the slack reins. That’s when he saw that Manuel had followed him. He was the one responsible for the young couple’s continued immobility.
Sean nodded to them. “You can go now. He’s not a threat to you anymore.
The girl pushed forward, and gripped the heavy leather of the demon’s pant leg. The tears on her cheeks made her face shiny in the dark. “I think he might be my brother; he said my name…once. What did you do to him?”
“With a little more help, he’ll be your brother again. Go home; we’ll take care of him, I promise,” said Sean. She let her boyfriend pull her away. Sean turned to Manuel, with a glance toward the other bodies across the square. “Get them buried. I can’t do any more.” He headed them toward the west gate with Prince close beside him. Manuel relayed his order and came too; Cordan sent another twenty men with them. He was a good commander.
Thoughtless Vengeance
Sean held it together until their new guest was securely bound and made as comfortable as possible. He unsaddled, hobbled and muzzled the horse too. He didn’t think there would be any problem from the rider, or from the horse for that matter, but he hadn’t been able to fix all of the damage to the horse, and though Sean was sure he felt tons better, he was still a destrier.
He slept the clock around and didn’t wake again until late at night. Charles, bless his heart, had tried to sit up and watch over him. His head had fallen down on the edge of the cot and he was drooling. Sean carefully got out of bed around him, then lifted him into his warm spot and covered him, and then he made his way out into the camp. The first thing he did was search out some leftovers; he was starving.
The watch commander found him some cold meat and flatbread laced with dried berries then Sean went to visit their new guest. Manuel took about ten hours to recover from his healing. I wonder how long this man took; I wonder if it’s been long enough.
The man was sleeping in the watch tent on a low cot set up at one side. He was still bound, though someone had removed his armor. He looks so peaceful sleeping there, but I’ve got to know. “Are you awake?
” He spoke softly. If he was still under the influence of his healing, Sean didn’t want to disturb him.
The man twitched and opened his eyes. He studied his visitor for a few minutes. “Are you the one who…who did this?”
“I guess you could say that I am. How are you feeling?” said Sean.
“I don’t remember much.”
“My one other success couldn’t remember much either. Maybe it’s for the best. Have they let you get up and move around?”
“I have no complaints. Who are you, anyway?”
Sean gave him his name and it took him a long minute to place it. “Ruhin, are you saying that you’re the king’s son? What are you doing here?”
“If you mean, Ludwyn’s son, no, I’m not. I’m Deain’s son. Ludwyn killed my father and his father. How did you cross my uncle?”
The man’s eyebrows closed together. “I was… My sister and I were…at a dance.” He spoke hesitantly. It was obvious he wasn’t too clear on the details. “It was my best friend’s wedding. That’s the last thing I remember.”
So, Ludwyn had snatched him directly from a wedding party. “Listen, sit up here.” Sean pulled him to sit up and began to untie him. “You’re not a prisoner here. You can go home whenever you want to. Your sister is worried about you.” After Sean had all of his bonds removed, he pushed him back down. “Go back to sleep. There’s no point in leaving tonight.”
He pulled the blanket over himself and Sean saw that, much like Manuel, he had no fingernails; he was even missing part of his little fingers. Sean turned the lamp down and left the tent. Outside, it was drizzling and the watch commander had retrieved his cloak. Sean pulled the hood up and took a stroll around the quiet camp.
He didn’t have any route planned or any goal in mind, but it was inevitable that he find the destrier. It was still hobbled and muzzled, but someone had put a bucket of water within reach. Sean watched the horse doze. What am I going to do with him? To the best of his knowledge, no one else in his company was qualified to take on a warhorse let alone a destrier, though some might be willing to learn. Then again, he hadn’t been qualified either when he had taken on Prince. He decided that, come morning, he would ask for volunteers.
Sean turned around and saw his ‘guest’ standing a few feet away. Someone had found him a shirt and pants; he was just standing there in the rain. “My name is Laon. I owe you my life. All I can remember is, wanting to be a soldier and then being a soldier as soon as I was old enough. I remember enough to know that, for what you have done for me, I would follow you into the jaws of death, if you’ll have me.”
“Jaws of death, huh. That’s a bit far, don’t you think?” Sean smiled at Laon’s expression. He patted him on the shoulder and turned him around. “You’re getting wet. You go talk it over with your sister tomorrow. After that, if you still want to come with me, I’d be honored to have you. Then we can start to work on that horse of yours.” He threw his thumb over his shoulder.
Laon looked back at where Sean had pointed. “That’s my horse? I don’t remember having much to do with a horse.”
Sean looked at him hard and saw the confusion behind his eyes. “Manuel will be there to help. I’m sure you’ll remember enough. We’ll teach you the rest.”
After seeing Laon back in his cot, Sean spent the rest of the night sitting in front of the watch tent in the rain and thinking of absolutely nothing. He didn’t know if it was the residue of all the magic he had expended and the long hours of sleep or if it was something else, but it felt kind of nice to just exist for a few hours rather than agonize over things all the time.
After breakfast, Sean gave Laon a horse and sent him off to see his sister, then he took up his swords and did a brief workout, but his heart wasn’t into it. When he’d had enough, he went to find Prince, and since it was still raining, he led him into the stream and gave him a bath. There was no soap involved, just buckets of water and a brush, but as soon as Prince got used to the idea, he seemed to like it.
When Sean was done, he had taken no more than a dozen paces away when Prince took a good roll in the mud. Sean had to laugh; watching a horse roll is very comical anyway, but the funniest part was when he was finished, he looked at Sean as if to say that he of course had been mistaken in thinking that he was done giving him a bath. Just for that, Sean tickled him until he sidestepped.
When he was finished…again, Sean took him all the way over to the grass before turning him loose. He could roll here to his heart’s content if he wanted to. Sean went back to his tent to change into something dry, then took up his saddle and started to oil it. He was just getting a good start when Larry came to tell him he had a messenger.
Sean glanced around the tent. Charles had lit a small brazier and Sean’s wet things hung around it to dry. He shrugged. At least it’s dry in here. “Send him in.”
The man stepped in and shook the water from his cloak before throwing it back over his shoulders and pushing his hood back. At first Sean thought the messenger might have been from Laon, but he discarded that idea as soon as he thought of it. He didn’t think Laon would send a messenger even if he could afford one.
When the man finally stood from his self-adjustments to face him, it took Sean several moments to recognize him, though the man would have no reason to expect recognition. Being wet, being here, and being unexpected had interfered, but Sean did recognize him; he was the man he had helped escape from the guards in Ruhin.
He was disconcerted to see Sean with a saddle in his lap and an oil rag in his hand, but he didn’t let that hinder him too much. “My lord… My lord, my name is Hugh Picardy. I have come to ask for your help.”
The name caused Sean to forget his saddle. “Why me? Why now?” I wonder what would have happened if I hadn’t come across him when I did.
Picardy forged ahead, his hands clenching and unclenching. “Because of what you did here,” he replied as if that might be enough.
He doesn’t look to be any older than Clayton.
“I came to tell you that I am the last member of the Picardy family and I want what is rightfully mine. I want to see my mother in the surroundings she should have rather than scrubbing pots in some inn and avoiding the groping hands of smelly old men.”
“We all would like to better ourselves,” said Sean. “And I am searching for the old nobility, but what qualifies you to be the man I need; what proof do you have that you have not just given me a name because I’m looking for it? Can you control the Picardy district if I hand it to you?”
The young man clamped his mouth shut.
“Do you have any following?” Sean asked next.
He shifted and looked uneasy.
“Do you know how to run a government?” continued Sean.
He was clenching his fists solidly now.
“What were you being arrested for in Ruhin?” asked Sean, changing tack.
Picardy’s dark eyes flew to Sean’s face in astonishment. “How did you know about that?” he asked, before he even thought to deny it.
“I helped you escape,” said Sean. “Tell me why you were arrested. I can make you.”
“You weren’t there. No one was anywhere near. I know; I checked.”
“Tell me,” compelled Sean.
Picardy gasped. Sean felt him struggle. “I…I was…implicated in…in a plot…ugh…a plot to assassinate the king.” He staggered back and dropped to a knee in the small puddle of mud the water dripping from his cloak had created.
Sean set his saddle aside and waited for him to recover.
Picardy looked around at the sparse furnishings of Sean’s tent. “May I sit, my lord?” he asked, in a shaky voice.
Sean pulled him to his feet and parked him on the foot of his cot then he brought his chair around to face him. “You were implicated in a plot to assassinate my uncle. That would be an impressive feat. Whatever led you to believe that you could pull it off?”
He was still shaking, but he wasn’t clenching his fists an
ymore. “I have trained for it all my life.” He said that in a small voice, while he still looked at the floor. He looked like a child sitting like that.
“You were trained as an assassin instead of a lord. Who trained you?”
“My mother saw to it that I had whatever teacher I needed. All of my father’s wealth, everything, went to pay them. When the money finally ran out, they left. The only way I could make it worth…” He clenched his fists and muscles jumped in his jaw.
Sean gripped his taunt wrists. “Unless you are far stronger than I think you are, it was a suicide mission. Where is your mother now?”
He unwound a bit. “She’s in the city; she’s staying with her sister.”
Sean sat back. “What am I to do with you?”
Picardy looked up at him, but he had no suggestions.
“Come with me,” said Sean. He took him outside and snagged a young officer who happened to be near. “This is Hugh Picardy; he’ll be staying with us for a while. Find him someplace where he can stay.” The man nodded and motioned Hugh to follow him, then Sean went over to Cordan who was talking to the morning’s watch commander. “Cordan, keep an eye on our new guest. He’s a trained assassin.”
Cordan reared his chin up and looked at the retreating back of young Picardy. “Why are you letting him stay?”
Sean shrugged. “He said he was the last member of the Picardy nobility; I may need him. Besides, he’s just a misguided kid who has been at the mercy of someone who could think of nothing but revenge.”
Cordan looked at Sean. “It’s dangerous to think of him that way. He’s dangerous.”
Sean followed Cordan’s gaze. “I know. Just try not to alienate him.”
Sean went back to his saddle, but he wasn’t mellow anymore. With grim determination, he finished oiling the saddle then he threw his cloak around his shoulders.
The Making of a Mage King: White Star Page 6
