Knight Esquire ya-2

by P. S. Power

  Rolph took another step back into the hall so Tor called out as he walked backwards carefully.

  “Heather, I don’t want to be a dick about all of this, so that four hours will start from the time we leave, not when I first said it, so that’s what, an extra four minutes? I really also suggest that I don’t see any of you around for a while. I’ve not been in the best of moods lately and the facts add up to Trice here as being the likely culprit behind all the attempts on my life just a little too well right now for comfort. Really Trice, you could have just told me you didn’t like me you know. I wasn’t going to make you marry me or anything and I really tried to be a good friend to you.” He looked over at Sara. “Both of you. Why you couldn’t see that as more valuable than making me into an enemy I don’t know. Troll or not, I have feelings too, right? Heh, probably shouldn’t have said that, now you’ll go around claiming that I’m a troll for real. People would probably even buy it, in Galasia.”

  He hit the Not-flyer amulet and floated down the hall backwards, the weapon in his left hand. It wasn’t like he had to be accurate with it or anything. If he triggered it they were all dead anyway. Rolph go the door for him and they both took off towards the palace.

  Tor noticed that he was hyperventilating, his breathing shallow and rapid, his heart pounding and the explosive still being pointed as he traveled. He slipped the cord back over his head and tucked it away. Focusing for a few minutes he got himself under control and calmed down.

  Rolph looked at him sideways as they traveled along, “You know Tor, you really have to stop doing that.”

  “Um, which thing, or set of things, that I should stop, are you talking about?”

  The Prince snorted and looked forward again.

  “Let me count… First, standing in front of people outwardly calm when you’re clearly going into a combat rage. Do you have any idea how freaky it is to hear someone say “I may destroy half the city doing it” when they claim to be holding a super explosive weapon and are casting out a combat aura like that? I thought poor Kris was going to drop right there. I think the girls and Heather had shields on, but I was seeing spots even through mine.”

  They continued on for a while without saying anything. He’d been showing signs of combat rage? Really? He’d certainly been worked up, but who wouldn’t be. The fact that he hadn’t hurt anyone and didn’t blast apart a big chunk of the Capital spoke against the idea, but then again, he’d certainly felt ready to die back there. Well, all he could do with that would be to keep trying to make sure he kept himself calm and in check.

  “What if they’d attacked and called your bluff? Checking them for poison wouldn’t have really impressed them, I don’t think.”

  “Bluff? Um, Rolph… Not to pretend to be all tough or anything, but… I never bluff. Probably not smart enough for it. I was holding exactly what I claimed I was.”

  “Then,” The voice came out as a growl. “May I put forth that you need to find a more subtle weapon with which to threaten people in the future? Maybe fire raining down from the sky or the Earth opening to swallow them whole?”

  It… was a good point. He had a force lance, but it wasn’t really good for more than knocking people out. On the good side it worked through most shields, on the bad side, Trice had one of the ones it didn’t work through. Tor had wanted to make sure she was protected so updated her almost instantly. Sara and Rolph had them too. Could he do something about that? The idea was… Well not impossible really. The fields wouldn’t be taken out of the metal easily at all. Really, the only sure way of removing one was to either lock the piece up and wait until the field failed, or melt the metal down. Even cutting it up might just make several copies of a field. It wasn’t that reliable, so it wasn’t generally done for duplication, but it could work, if a person was willing to risk losing the whole field.

  But could they be suppressed? Maybe. He didn’t have a clue how. Why would he? In his whole life he’d never heard of anyone even wanting to shut a field off at a distance before.

  What he could do was make a combination field that would be part force lance, part explosive field and part shield, so that the forces would be contained to one direction only. If he made it strong enough, it should suffice. He could limit the range, to say, a hundred feet? That way he’d be less likely to take out whole cities as he destroyed individual buildings or, and he really hoped it didn’t come to that, people. If it did though, better he get one person than a thousand, right?

  Not that he’d have time to worry about that for a while. Debri would give back the templates, then they could work out how they were planning on giving over what money they owed for sales already made. Then they could call it even and he’d never have to see any of them again. It wasn’t ideal maybe, and he hated going back on a business deal, but they’d betrayed him. What was he supposed to do? Besides, the templates were his property, so he had a right to them, didn’t he? If they refused to pay him and wouldn’t give them back, that was just theft.

  Inside the guest house Rolph suggested that he get a snack or something, some fruit or bread to take the edge off and then left to the palace. He didn’t say what it was that he had planned, but Tor figured it was something around the idea of reporting what had happened. It felt a little like he’d gone to tattle on him really, but it probably had to be done. After all, Tor fully intended on taking down the biggest merchant and manufacturing house in the Noram kingdom. Richard and Connie were probably going to have a problem with that. If nothing else it would affect the gear that the military was going to get. He wondered how many units that was supposed to be anyway. No one ever told him that kind of thing.

  Sure enough, about twenty minutes later Connie, Rich and Smythe of Westend the military councilor came dashing into the guest house, well, it was more of a quick walk than a real dash, just on the edge of undignified, but not totally frantic. Rolph, he noticed, hadn’t come with them. Hopefully off doing something useful. Then again, since Sara was basically his girlfriend, he was probably trying to figure out a way to keep Tor from taking back all his stuff. He could see that, but Sara and her people had obviously decided they were on Trice’s side in all this. That kind of cut ties already, didn’t it? It wasn’t just him being unreasonable.

  Was it?

  “I’d feel worse about getting the templates back from Debri, you know, but they were a merchant house long before any of them met me and probably will be long after I’m dead and gone and it sounds like they’ve already made a lot of money without ever paying me a penny. Well, unless they don’t come up with my property, then things are going to get… interesting. But, they’ve decided to side with my enemies, so what else can be done? Say, anyone have a list of Debri locations for the kingdom? I mean I can just go town to town looking for them, but knowing where to go will really speed things up, don’t you think? I just want the templates back, I don’t need to trash every location they have to do it.” That was more reasonable than they deserved, but he could live with it.

  The King held up his hands, a placating gesture. “Really Tor, won’t you reconsider? We’ve kind of set the military on a specific course for now, based on your shields and to a lesser extent the flying rigs. If you pull them from Debri now, it will set back manufacturing by months, maybe as much as four months or more. I’d take it as a personal favor.”

  Taking a deep breath Tor tried to explain his thoughts on the matter. If they pulled the fields now, they could reestablish a more reliable contract with someone else inside four months, or they could wait for these people to kill him, or whatever their plan had been that day, and then nothing else would be forthcoming from him ever.

  A lot of people could make copies from his templates, sure. They were designed to be easy to copy. A few people could even probably make new templates based on the originals given time. All they needed was someone that could make templates and copy fields. Most of the instructors at the school could do it, probably. Master Fines could for certain, Tor was
sure. The man was good. But if they wanted his original work, that took having him around, didn’t it?

  Smythe didn’t look convinced.

  “Your majesties, I must submit that allowing a young man, no matter how accomplished, to run around with a weapon capable of destroying cities is… past ludicrous. Even insane doesn’t quite work here. He’s going to end up turning a single failed romance into the death of thousands or more if we aren’t careful. Worse, someone has already tried to kill him several times, of course he’ll react if it happens again. It’s only natural to respond when attacked. Put that together, and try to remember what you were like at that age sire. I don’t blame Tor but… How many would be dead right now if you’d wielded that kind of power at his age? Or if I had? I dare say the population of the world would be a good bit smaller right now.”

  The guy was a pompous ass, Tor decided. He’d seemed nice enough the first time they’d met, but now he was talking about him like he wasn’t even in the room. Jerk. Then again, he’d made some valid points. Was he too emotionally unstable to wield a weapon like the one he had?

  Yes.

  He’d almost killed god knows how many people not two hours before, just because a girl that had said he was stupid and ugly was in the room with him. Then he’d started planning out weapons that almost had to be used to kill people if they were made, just because his feelings were hurt. Was that the person he’d pick to be in charge of a super weapon? Not a chance. He didn’t want to die, but it was a lot better that he got killed than thousands of others because he couldn’t find true love.

  “First, Smythe, from now on, if you’re talking about me, and I’m in the room, please make an effort to include me in the conversation, all right? It’s a little rude otherwise and while you may feel like a high and mighty head of the military, you’re still also just a person like everyone else, no matter how lowly we are.” He reached in his shirt and sorted through the cluster of amulets there, all on plain brown hemp string. After fumbling for a few seconds Tor found the explosive weapon and pulled it off.

  “Second, even though you’re being more than a little rude, you’re also right, more or less, so here. You keep it. It will probably last less than a year and it’s not a template, so if you want a copy you’ll have to get someone pretty good to do the work for you. Really, no call for it. I made it in a snit when my feelings were hurt and… you’re correct, I shouldn’t be the one in control of something like that right now. Um, I recommend you don’t try and use it on anything closer than a mile away for safety, and flying at the time would be a good idea unless you’re aiming at a mountain or something. Use it in here and I’m pretty sure the palace will be gone along with most of the city, so, do be careful.”

  The man let out a gust of air and so did the King, Connie just smiled and gave him a little bow. What had they thought he was going to do, blow them all up? He chuckled, realizing that’s probably what they actually had been thinking. Silly. He’d have blown himself up too and he hadn’t even finished ruining Debri for the day or anything. He told them that, a little curtly.

  The King shook his head slowly. “Still on that one then? Can’t reconsider at all? It may simply be that they know something you don’t, might it not? I know you to be a pretty reasonable person Tor, as the last minutes have no doubt shown us all. Maybe you should take a step back and investigate the matter first? We can tell Debri that I’ve, temporarily, asked you to do that, in order to save face, if you feel the need? You can always destroy them later after all.”

  Tor shook his head and tried not to frown at the King. Obviously the man was right. It was moronic to go after Debri House over this. Who would do something like that? He was still just so angry about it all though. It wasn’t fair.

  “I’ve swallowed bitterness time and time again in this and at each turn I’m met with another twist of the knife or drink of poison. Maybe it’s time someone else took the cup for a while? I don’t think I’ve actually earned any of this yet, not most of it at least. I didn’t do anything to Trice, I made no demands, and held no real expectations, but she dumped all over me behind my back, in public. I saw it once, but how many times had it happened before and after that? Ten? A hundred? Here at the palace you guys wouldn’t even let me in, even though it meant I had to wonder the city and get a job to put a roof over my head instead, which I probably wouldn’t have had to do if Sara Debri and her family hadn’t been withholding the gold that they owed me for some reason I’ve yet to really understand. I mean, I’m bad with money? How am I supposed to get good with it if I never have any? Sure, everyone claims to have a good reason, but none of them are verifiable at all. Has anyone else noticed that yet?”

  He gestured at the three before him.

  “Me being turned away at the gate… twice in a row. Paperwork mix ups? Seriously? Twice? It’s really hard to believe, and I only have your word for it. I mean, you’re the freaking King! If you tell the gate guard to lie about something like that, he will and probably claim it until his death, maybe even under torture. That doesn’t mean you did lie, I get that,” Tor paced a little, making everyone follow him with their eyes.

  “But, think about it, everything is like that. Trice is claiming now that she had some plan to undermine me and tell everyone how awful I was to draw out the people that want to hurt me, but… notice, she didn’t come to me first with that plan, only nearly a week later, after she had a lot of time to think about it and make excuses. Like you had. Debri… They’ve had months. No, I have to make them see that they can’t push me around. Trice at least taught me that. It’s even fair really, they haven’t been paying me and withheld money on purpose already, no one does business with people like that, do they? If that makes thing hard for others for a little while, well, I’m sorry about that. I’ll try to make sure things get up and running as fast as possible, even if I have to do the work myself full time until things are going as far as the new manufacturing, but…”

  Smythe turned towards him, having slipped on cream colored gloves that had bits of metal all over the palms, in an almost elegant fashion. It was kind of pretty, in a strange way.

  “I’m afraid that’s not good enough.” The man said, stepping forward with a blank stare on his face. “Not good enough at all.”

  Chapter ten

  Smythe’s plan, once Tor figured it out, was actually pretty clever. The gloves he’d just put on passed something through the shield he wore that made his skin burn where the hands were directed. He had to squirm away from the pain. It would have been all right, except for the other eight men, all clad in black, dull colored clothes that looked like heavy canvas, kind of like what the special students at the school wore for some of their exercises. They just stepped out of panels in the walls of all things. Not all of them had the pain gloves, but two did. It was enough to leave him trapped in a triangle of agony. They could hurt him, or rather, make him burn, but they didn’t have a way through the shield itself physically. Small favor, since those gloves really hurt.

  He fought for a moment as the men tried to grab him, wondering what other tricks they’d have, perhaps something to steal the air from around him? He could get a little air from about three feet away, but if they used even one of his own air chokes, he’d be stuck.

  Apparently someone had been taking notes, because three of the men had them and the other three had lances he’d built the template for that would have gone through his shield if he hadn’t already upgraded. He managed to get in one good breath before the air went away, burning skin stealing oxygen from his system much faster than normal. He had to get air, and fast too. The poisoning had really lowered how long he could hold his breath, by about half he figured, and it hadn’t been that great a talent before. If he had half a minute before he started to black out, it would be a surprise. Not really knowing what would happen, he triggered the Not-flyer and rose above the ground a bit. Being busy attacking him, no one really seemed to notice Tor getting taller until he jammed his r
ight hand forward and smashed into the three men blocking the hallway in front of him at about forty miles per hour. At least they were in the choke field with him.

  Horrible plan though. You don’t really ever think about how much fun breathing is, until you can’t.

  Nifty thing about the way he’d constructed the shield he wore, if he touched the ground any force hitting him would go directly into the earth. If he flew or in this case floated a little, any form of impact did its level best to go right back into what ever hit him. Now if he was hovering in place that didn’t really do much. It just meant that he didn’t get knocked around a lot. But, if he was moving fast and hit something that wasn’t, that changed the equation. In this case the men that tried to bar his way flew to the side except the one directly in front of him, who flew straight back until Tor hit him a second time, hard, spinning the black clothed stranger halfway around.

  The move got him out of the range of all the effective weapons and while the lances should have worked at the distance he was at, they didn’t go through his shield at all.

  Yay, forethought.

  Near the end of the hallway, a good two hundred feet away from the original point of attack, Tor spun and dropped the field that kept him up in the air. He had to in order to use his right hand to dig into his inner pants pocket for his own remaining weapons. He felt a little silly for giving Smythe, who’d turned out to be his enemy and an evil man, the explosive weapon like that.

  Not because he thought the man would try to use it. If he did that they just all died.

  No, it was just that someone that would attack another person in the middle of a fairly civil discussion like that, especially since it was obviously a premeditated assault, wasn’t exactly stable either. Well, nothing for it now. After all, going back that way meant pain and burning again. He got his own force lance out, probably the same type these men carried, from the way they were trying to use it, spraying it back and forth, throwing objects at him in the stream generated.