by Power, P. S.
Right now he couldn't do that. He had to keep his mind sharp and focus tight or else the copies wouldn't take, then all this work would be wasted, which would suck. The last batch ate at his mind, almost making him ache with boredom, but he kept at it until finished.
Finally. It was good practice at least.
Every muscle in his body screamed at him to stretch and move. Tor hadn't gone stiff yet, but everything inside told him that he should run away from this evil place before some meany came and made him do more of that boring work. He laughed a little as he walked out, his legs protesting just a tiny bit. His left ankle must have had some of the blood cut off to it, because his left foot was getting a pins and needles feeling. No numbness. It was interesting... Maybe just didn't notice that he'd gone numb because of the pain difference that came in trance? He knew that he didn't feel pain as much in a deep working state and some people could block out even severe pain that way if they started to meditate before the injury happened. It could be useful if he was ever being tortured. Hopefully he'd never have to find out if it really worked or not.
As he walked back towards his room, the feeling got a little stronger. Then as he moved between the advisors' offices and the main class build, a wave of tingling hit him so hard it nearly took him off his feet. It didn't hurt so much as feel like he'd hit the back of his elbow too hard, his funny bone, only all over his body. His hands and feet went limp, weak. He could move them, but they suddenly felt like they lacked any kind of power at all.
He stopped walking, wondering what heck this was. Had he made himself sick? Or... he couldn't think of anything that fit. Could he have transferred the field incorrectly or had one of the fields attached itself to him directly? That would be, well, not impossible, but highly unlikely. He'd been careful, even when he got bored. Besides this kind of field shouldn't make him feel like this. Maybe a medical device of some kind could, but his clothes dryer? Not likely.
Torrence started walking again, as hard as it was, and noticed the two figures fighting as he got a little farther into the central commons area. He froze, not really understanding what they did at first.
Feet moved on the black and gray paving stones, a soft shuffle that spoke of people that knew how to fight and came prepared in shoes designed for the purpose. One of the figures was huge, the night was too dark to make out who it was really, only a black silhouette of the man, clearly a male, could be seen, back lit by the much lighter sky above. The person fighting with him was smaller. Faster. Still a lot bigger than Tor.
No one yelled or screamed, but the smaller figure held something that glinted in the early morning light. Not a knife… Tor didn't think so at least. It was too matte colored and kept being held wrong, pointed at the large figure, sending him staggering back just a tiny bit. The closer Tor moved towards them, the more desperate the movements of the smaller person seemed. They staggered back and forth, barely able to keep to their feet, even though they didn't let the big one close enough to hit them yet.
Unless they'd taken a few blows already. It didn't take a lot to leave you feeling loopy and seeing stars. He felt that way himself in fact, and he wasn't even within thirty feet of them yet. Tor felt tempted to run the other way. After all, that big guy was... huge. Bigger than Rolph, which was saying something. The smaller one cried out just as he started to turn away. It was a high pitched voice. A woman's voice.
Worse, it was a woman's voice he'd heard recently.
Trice.
Damn.
That meant that he had to go and probably get killed trying to help her, didn't it? Something like that at least. If nothing else she was Rolph's friend and the buddy of his new business partner, which in a sideways fashion meant he was her friend too, and responsible for her. All he could think as he staggered towards them was that she better have a good reason for being out fighting this late. Especially if she wanted to pick fights with giants.
Who did that anyway? If you were going to pick a fight it only made sense to go after someone smaller than you were, right? That's why Tor held to a fast policy of only getting in fights with people under ten years old himself, if he could help it. If she was just out having too much to drink and getting in trouble he'd...
Exactly what he'd do didn't come to him as the large figure threw a single punch that took the girl to the ground, her weapon not being effective anymore for some reason. Sparks jumped in front of Tor's eyes, seeming to fly all around the man in front of him as he closed on the downed woman.
Taking a deep breath Tor ran towards the giant in front of him and swung the cloth sack he had in his hand. The copper inside gave it enough weight to make a decent weapon, at least until the cloth gave way, Tor figured. The edges of the metal were a little bit sharp and might cut through with repeated use. The first hit landed on the big man's shoulder. He kept moving towards the still form on the ground, so Tor hit him again. And then again.
After five or six hits, all solid blows, the huge form slowly turned towards him. The first thing Tor noticed was that the feeling of not being in control of his body got a lot stronger when the man focused on him directly.
The second thing was that it was Count Thomson that stood before him.
A half second later the Count stopped just standing and looking at him, and attacked.
Chapter three
“Run away!” Tor chanted to himself, his feet sluggish, almost as if stuck to the ground beneath him for some reason. “Run away!”
Not bothering to turn all the way, he just started stumbling off at about a sixty-degree angle like he'd been taught to do if someone much bigger and faster decided to attack. Or smaller and faster. Or if they were something that could easily take him in a fight, like a small dog or a kitten.
Run away.
He could hear Kolb the weapons instructor chanting with him in his head. Of course Tor wasn't even halfway fast enough. The Count swiped a single long arm at him, connecting with his left shoulder, taking him all the way off his feet so easily that for a second Tor thought he'd fainted. It was the stupid glowing dots in the air that did it. He thought they were in the air at first, but... they were probably in his head weren't they? One of the strange powers that royals had then? It made sense; almost all of them had combat related abilities of some kind. Why was the Count attacking Trice though? Had she insulted him, or turned him down for sex or something?
That was probably it.
If the woman had publicly humiliated him or mocked him, that might send a guy over the edge like that. Then again, why would she? The guy was good looking, strong, rich and at what – twenty odd years old – had already assumed the head of one of the largest districts in the Noram kingdom. Maybe the girl had just bumped into him or something. Spilled his drink?
That didn't really matter right at the moment. No, what mattered, Tor decided, was rolling. A foot came towards his head as he tried to make himself move. Most of the time he was more than a little clumsy in a fight, but at this moment, struggling to stay alive, he felt like a fish that someone had pulled from the water, flopping and spastic, muscles not really acting like they should at all.
Making it to his feet, he ran as fast as he could, so not very, the bag still clutched in his right hand for some reason. Torrence didn't want to drop it, but ten hours of work wasn't worth his life. A thousand hours of work wasn't. It would take at least a thousand and seven, he decided as he flopped away. His fingers wouldn't release however, so it was a moot point.
He ran, feeling drunk and wobbly. Tor heard a solid pounding coming at him from behind as he struggled to get away, not bothering to look over his shoulder. The massive man would either catch him or not. Looking back would just invite falls or running into walls. No, if he was going to do that, run into a wall, he'd do it with his eyes open, thank you very kindly.
The foot falls close with him as he sprinted. At first. After a minute it sounded like they were farther away. Then they stopped altogether. Good. He stopped, only to feel th
e sparks start up again a few moments later. He couldn't hear anything, but the Count had to be getting closer, right? Looking back he finally got it. The man wasn't running anymore. That was all.
He'd risen about five feet in the air and flew after Tor, arms at his sides loosely, a halo of sparks around him.
Running again he didn't look back and didn't stop. It was just time to run. A half hour later, after running through the small stand of evergreen trees behind the school complex for a while, Tor had to stop. If he'd been measuring his pace he would have been able to go on longer. Then again, being caught probably wouldn't have helped his stamina any, what with the being dead and all. So it was probably a wash. The Count had to walk in the woods or at least chose to go back to the ground, which made things... not more even, but more natural. Who went flying around like that anyway? It was insane.
Cool, gods yes, but in a terrifying way. Definitely not what he'd expected.
He'd thought it would be more like... force beams coming out of his eyes or something like that. Maybe shooting fire from his mouth.
Flying...
Finally, as true dawn broke, the Count shook himself, and without even looking to see where Tor was trying to hide, just turned and walked away, back towards the school. Tor hid behind a tree, not believing it at first. It could all just be a ruse to draw him out. Or, just as likely, the man had gotten tired or bored and gone home. It wasn't like Tor was such wonderful prey that he couldn't just forget about him. That sounded far more likely.
What if, the idea hit him suddenly, the Count had only decided to go back after Trice? Was she even conscious yet? Had she survived being hit like that? Closing his eyes Tor knew what he had to do. Go back and try to find her.
He also knew what he wanted to do, which involved running for his life.
Torrence hadn't known it at the time, but in trying to defend Trice, poorly as it turned out, he'd struck a sitting Count. If it had just been some kid, he'd have been fine. Even the son of a Count given the situation, might have been alright. Oh, he'd have still been kicked out of school, probably sent to prison, but not executed for it. But to hit a Count, especially with a weapon? No. There was no way around it. A bag with metal in it was a real weapon too; it could seriously damage a person, so it couldn't be written off as a joke or something. The King would have him killed.
Well... Tor knew that it would probably never even come to the King's personal attention. Why would it? The Count's people would do it for him, probably without even a trial.
But... if he ran they might go after his family instead of just him. Blame them for hiding him, even if he never went home at all. Or possibly just for not training him correctly. The rich could be petty like that sometimes. It wasn't fair. Tor felt like a petulant little kid as he walked back towards the school. That he couldn't have known who he was fighting didn't matter either. The law was, obviously, the law. Still, maybe he could get Trice out of the way if he got there first? Claim that he was the only one that hit the Count? Then only one of them would die.
Yeah. Brilliant plan.
Except for the part where he died.
Unfortunately it was the only thing he could come up with on short notice. No one ever gave you time to plan for these things for some reason. More than a bit unfair really. Of course, what would he have done differently if he'd known ahead of time who was attacking her? Nothing really came to mind. He wouldn't have left Trice to just die after all. Not even knowing that he was going to die in her place.
Tor hugged the sides of buildings, ready to flee again if he had to. If he had to make a choice, the hangman's noose would be well before being beaten to death by a fist. Tor didn't want to die at all, but some ways really were better than others when it looked imminent like this. Making his way slowly back to where the attack had taken place in the main courtyard Tor sighed in relief. No one was there. So, provided the Count hadn't just gotten there first, that meant the girl had gotten away. Good. All he had to do now was turn himself in and lie. Convince them somehow that it was all him. The bag was still in his hand.
Right. Excellent. He needed to talk to Rolph before he did anything else then.
It wasn't fair to involve the other boy, stupid in fact, but maybe he could do this carefully enough so that his only friend wouldn't be dragged down too. Carefully, trying to avoid being seen, he made his way up the stone steps to the third level and tapped the door lock. A small click let him know that it was still working. Not that it wouldn't be; he’d built it to last like he did with everything he made. It would probably function long after he was dead.
Inside Rolph sat on the edge of his bed, already clothed, but with that sleepy look people had when woken up in the middle of the night without warning. Standing next to him was one of the school officials, Proctor Campbell. The man wore all black, and had a sour look on his face.
Always.
It was just as dark right now staring at Tor. He looked sinister. Angry and more than a little like someone had kicked him in the groin. So pretty normal for him.
“Come with me young man.” Proctor Campbell didn't even wait for Rolph to confirm who it was. Then again, Campbell probably knew every single student by name on sight. It was a big part of his job. Kind of a school guardsman. So, it was over already. Hardly fair at all.
“Rolph... Here... your order is in this bag and forty other pieces; sell them and make sure my family gets the money... Please?” Tor begged, pleading with his eyes. At least it was something. A chance to do something useful before he went.
A smooth white hand took him by the arm as he tossed the bag on to his bed. At least Campbell didn't try to confiscate the bag. Now if Rolph had just understood him. He couldn't tell, because he was hustled out the door faster than the other boy could say anything. The big man stopped at the door and looked back.
“Stay inside until someone comes for you from the school. Lock the door and don't leave, understood?”
Rolph nodded.
Did they think Rolph had something to do with this too? It was ridiculous of course. He'd been asleep and... God, what had Tor done? Well, what could he do now except take as much blame as possible and try to protect his friends? Tor started shaking. He could have blamed it on the cold, or the run through the woods, but no, it was just fear. Not old fear either, a fresh new fear that told him that no matter what Torrence Green Baker did, he was going to die. Probably today. Well, that was less than fun. He hadn't even gotten to finish the food dryer yet.
Or the shield either. If he'd had that, he probably could have just stood there and let the Count hit him instead of Trice, then he wouldn't be in this mess now. There was no law that said you couldn't legally be beaten by a Count after all or even that the beating had to hurt.
You just couldn't strike one.
The Proctor didn't hurt him as he moved him along; in fact he was gentle in a way, which was unexpected. Of course Tor wasn't trying to resist. What would be the point? They knew who'd done it. Obviously, or they wouldn't have come to his room like that. Tor held his head up. They could kill him, but he hadn't done anything wrong. Illegal, but moral. He'd just tried to help. It wouldn't buy him anything good, but that didn't make him to blame, not really, which was something to cling to. A feeble, damp little thing, not even a hope, but a thing. Better than the nothing that was all that existed without it.
The dour looking man walked them first into one of the official buildings that he'd never seen the inside of. Probably the disciplinary building. The place they took the rich kids when they were going to be tossed out on their ear for doing something too wrong to speak of. Otherwise the instructors managed the punishments, more or less. On rare occasions the older students did it. Those were usually beatings for some kind of transgression that would have you tossed out if the faculty knew you'd done it, but that even kids knew couldn't just stand without being addressed. That was just so a kid might get the lesson, but not be expelled. Tor had never had one himself, but then, he d
idn't cause a lot of problems that required punishments that harsh.
The inside of the room was blank. Not just featureless, but more... not there somehow. He could see that a room was there, but no matter how hard he tried, Tor couldn't recall what it looked like at all. Right, a bit of magical protection. Did they think that he was going to do something? Like what Torrence focused until he saw a door ahead of him, but didn't go towards it. Maybe they'd all just forget he was there? Given the magics on this place, it was just possible.
A few minutes later, feet starting to hurt just a little from standing, Campbell pacing back and forth agitatedly, the door at the back opened and a strange older man popped his head out.
“Mr. Baker? If you'd join us within? That should be all for now Proctor, thank you for your timely assistance.” The man walked out to him when he didn't move, holding an ancient hand out to him, beckoning.
“Don't worry about the magical fields, the effects fade on the other side of the door a bit. You can see the door, right? Sometimes people can't, which could be confusing.... Most of the time people can't, to tell the truth.” He seemed concerned about the door for some reason. Tor looked down and shuffled towards it without speaking. Was this the door to the execution chamber he wondered? Could be. But wait; did they even have such a thing at the school? He'd never heard of one, or even of any students being killed on campus... They probably had to go somewhere else for that. It would at least be outdoors, so that blood wouldn't stain the hardwood floors, right?
At the door he could tell that several bodies, other people, were inside. From the outer area he couldn't tell who, but then Tor might not recognize them if he saw them anyway.
A cold flash broke through his body as he stepped into the room, a warm fire was going, which contrasted sharply with the freezing he felt. His body shivered from it and not just the fear now, making him wonder at the strength of the protections on this place. You didn't normally eat up ambient energy like this just for fun and giggles.
