Selene’s politically inclined mind understood immediately. “She thinks she can make her husband king? A murderer can’t inherit. Not only that, she couldn’t possibly succeed.”
“She could. And she’ll kill a lot more people along the way.”
“How?”
“I’m not going to share that, but I intend to make sure it doesn’t happen. All you have to do is make certain that you and your fiancé don’t show up at her little get-together on Friday.”
“If you don’t tell me the details, I won’t let you leave,” threatened Selene. “I’ll call the guards.” As she spoke, her earth elemental pulsed and a stone barrier grew up from the floor to block the window.
“If you do that, your father will have me in the dungeon, if he doesn’t choose to execute me immediately,” countered Will. In his mind he could still hear the goddamn cat’s warning, “She will kill you.”
“That option is starting to sound better all the time,” Selene challenged.
Will called her bluff. “Do it then.”
They stared at each other for what seemed an eternity, until finally she gave a long sigh of exasperation. The impromptu wall of stone slowly disappeared. “I hate you sometimes.”
Will couldn’t look away. “The feeling is mutual.”
Reluctantly, he took a step toward the window, but her voice stopped him in his tracks. “I have fifteen minutes before I have to appear downstairs.”
He met her gaze. “That’s not much time.”
Selene agreed, “It isn’t.”
By the time his brain caught up with his body, he was already carrying her into the bedroom. They wrestled with each other and their clothes, filling the next quarter of an hour with frantic desperation. Somewhere in the back of Will’s mind he remembered Janice’s observation, and as the end arrived, he hesitated. Selene urged him on. “Don’t stop. This is the last time.”
A minute or two later his breathing slowed, and reason returned. “I thought last time was the last time,” he muttered.
“This time it really is. It has to be,” she declared, though Will thought he saw doubt on her face. Then she pushed him away. “I’m going to be late!”
They hurriedly reassembled themselves, and Will headed for the window. Selene was standing at the outer door of her bedroom when he turned back to add, “Don’t give the duchess any warning. Don’t give anyone time to consider. Cancel at the last minute.”
She nodded, frustration still showing in her visage. Then he defenestrated himself and she exited through the door.
When Will finally arrived back on campus, he was still shaking his head in disbelief. My life just keeps getting stranger. The bell tower rang once, denoting the end of the lunch hour, and he was shocked to realize he still had time to make it to his first afternoon class.
The thought of sitting through classes, not just then, but for the rest of the week, seemed intolerable. How could he concentrate when wasn’t even sure he would live to see the weekend? By the time his last session with Professor Dulaney ended, he was ready to jump up and run from the room.
Being back in his dorm room wasn’t much better, though. He sat at his desk and endlessly rehearsed the scenario in his mind, trying to imagine the best way to accomplish his goal. Then he began experimenting with the spells he knew, to see if he could produce them quickly enough. Unhappy with the results, he revised which spell he would have ready in advance and then ran through the sequence he expected to need when Friday arrived.
After two or three hours of that, he was too exhausted to think anymore, so he switched to mindlessly practicing the point-defense spell. It was a relief when it was finally time for bed, but he immediately found that he couldn’t sleep.
It was going to be a rough week.
The next day passed in similar fashion, and it was a relief when Rob showed up at his door that evening. Will was desperate for anything to take his mind off the future. “How was the ball?” asked his friend.
“The food was amazing,” said Will. “There were tables and tables of it. I don’t even think it was all eaten.”
Rob laughed. “You went to a royal ball and all you can talk about is the food?”
“What am I supposed to talk about?” asked Will, nonplussed.
“The ladies, the dancing! Who did you meet? Come on, I want details!”
Will gave his friend a sly look. “Oh, that.”
“Of course, that! Did you step on anyone’s feet?”
“No!” said Will, immediately feeling defensive.
Rob didn’t seem convinced. “Really? Last week Janice told me she was certain you would mangle some noble lady and cause a major incident.”
“Well, I improved quite a bit before the ball,” Will huffed. “I assure you that no ladies were mangled through my efforts.”
“Crippled? Lamed? Moderately impaired?” teased Rob with a grin. “You can tell me. I’ll only laugh.”
Will couldn’t help but laugh. He gave his friend a modest account of his time at the ball, including the fact that he had danced with Tabitha Nerrow, the Duchess Arenata, and the princess. Rob was particularly impressed with the last one. “You danced with the princess? Did you reminisce about your times together, fighting against the Darrowans?”
“I wouldn’t say that, exactly.”
“Two old war buddies, rediscovering their unbreakable bond forged during time of war…” Rob swept his hand across the air in front of him as he set the stage for his delusional play.
Will frowned. “War buddies?”
Rob wasn’t done. “And of course, as they gaze into one another’s eyes, they realize that their feelings haven’t changed, despite the differences in their rank and station.”
It sounded as though Rob was just getting warmed up to the topic, so Will stepped in to intervene. “The king announced her engagement to Count Spry,” he announced dryly.
“Oof!” exclaimed Rob, who then doubled over as though someone had knocked the wind out of him. Then he straightened up suddenly. “Wait, did you say Count Spry? Dennis’ father? Oh, dear lord! That had to sting.”
“Don’t remind me.”
Rob’s eyes fluttered and he fanned himself dramatically with one hand. “Give me a second. I’ll have to revise this scenario.” He took several deep breaths, the resumed, “All right. So the two war buddies stare into each other’s eyes, realizing their love in undiminished—”
“War buddies makes it sound like I’m in love with a grizzled veteran,” commented Will.
His friend smiled. “That could happen too. In fact, it would make a great love triangle. There you are, torn between your love for the princess, and your love for your squad mate, the noble, but very hairy Gregory. But alas, Gregory is already married, so your love can never be. Spurned by your bearded lover, you turn to your other war buddy, Selene, only to discover she has been betrothed to your archnemesis, the evil Count Spry!”
Will snorted. “You’re really having fun with this, aren’t you?”
“I haven’t gotten to the best part yet,” said Rob, “when Selene discovers that the count is secretly making sordid assignations with your old lover Gregory. Then, the two of you, both spurned by the men you love, return to one another for romantic revenge!”
“As twisted as all of that is, I think I would prefer it to reality at this point.”
Rob lifted his chin proudly. “My stories are always preferable to reality. Perhaps someday I shall write a play. The Tragic Love of William, Sir Gregory, Count Shitstain, and Some Princess or Other. How’s that for a name?”
“It sounds wonderful.”
They continued to chat for another hour or so, then went downstairs for supper, meeting Seth along the way. The banter and company of friends did a lot to ease the tension Will had been suffering under. When they finally separated and returned to their rooms, he felt much better and he was able to return to his practice with a clear head.
Chapter 55
Will spe
nt the next couple of days preparing a few alchemical mixtures that he thought would come in handy, and by the time Friday arrived he felt as ready as he could possibly be. According to Aislinn’s information, the ritual would need to resume some time after the sun set but before midnight. Will intended to make sure he was there before that happened.
He had no idea whether the duchess had invited other guests, aside from Selene and the count. Ordinarily, for similar socials the host would include a small circle of friends, but given that the duchess intended to kidnap then murder one of her guests, he hoped that wouldn’t be the case. The more people he had to deal with, the more difficult his job would be.
It largely depended on how Arlen Arenata intended to carry out her plan. When Will arrived, he found the worst-case scenario, for there were four empty carriages parked on the lane in front of the Arenata residence. That’s at least eight guests, and hopefully Selene and the count aren’t among them, he noted. With that many people, the duchess had either planned to wait until some or most had left, or she intended to drug or otherwise incapacitate them.
Will couldn’t wait to find out which was the case. He glanced down at himself, double-checking that everything was in place. He was wearing his mail and gambeson along with the addition of his newer pieces of armor, greaves, breastplate, and his improved steel cap with aventail. If things went well he wouldn’t need any of it, but it was better to be prepared than dead, if things didn’t go as planned.
The chameleon and silence spells made it easy to approach the carriages, each of which still had a driver waiting. The drivers were bored, naturally, and had gathered together near the gate to the house where they could banter with one another to pass the time. Will moved to within fifteen feet, using one of the carriages to provide extra cover. Then he painstakingly constructed a sleep spell and unleashed it on them. Slowly, all four of the drivers collapsed to the ground.
The guard at the gate was understandably alarmed. Will caught him with a second sleep spell, the one he had kept prepared in reserve. Once all five were down, he spent a couple of minutes preparing another sleep spell, as he wasn’t sure how soon he would need the spell again. Then he used a spell to unlock the gate.
Leaving the guard and the drivers asleep in front of the house wasn’t a good option, but he feared that moving them might shake them from their magical slumber, so Will used the source-link spell to drain each of them before he dragged them inside and laid them in the grass near the front door. Afterward he closed and relocked the front gate before going to the door and ringing the bell.
When it opened, he used his newly prepared sleep spell to render the maid unconscious. He caught her as she slumped and carried her down the steps, then returned to the door. From the doorway he could hear voices inside, engaged in a lively banter within the parlor. No one had noticed the maid’s disappearance yet. Working as quickly as he could, Will prepared another sleep spell. Nervousness almost made him fail, as he worried someone would come to check on the door before he was ready, which might force him to use more violent methods. His practice paid off, though, and he kept his calm long enough to finish the spell construct. That done, he stepped inside and shut the door behind him, making sure to lock it.
Before leaving the entry hall, he shifted his vision into that strange spectrum that would allow him to see through walls and confirmed the positions of the inhabitants. There were three people in the kitchen, presumably servants, and ten people in the front parlor. He grimaced. Ten would be chancy, especially since at least five of them were sorcerers.
Will returned his vision to normal and revised his plan. Moving slowly, he slipped past the parlor and into the back hallway that ran to the kitchen. He entered there and put the three servants to sleep, then prepared the spell again. Tucking that sleep spell away, he got a second one ready, holding it in his hand. With luck I can get eight, he told himself, but he knew the odds weren’t good. Magic users of whatever variety were likely to resist the spell.
He returned to the hallway and watched the door leading from the parlor. Eventually someone would come to see what had happened to the maid. With luck, he could winnow a few more people from the main group and make his task easier.
He didn’t have to wait long. Arlen Arenata appeared after a minute. “Miriam! Where have you gone?” The duchess approached the door and seemed surprised to find her maid nowhere in sight. She glanced around. “Where has that useless girl run off to?”
Will began to sweat. If the duchess opened the front door, she would see the unconscious bodies and the jig would be up. Arlen seemed to debate which way to go for a moment, then turned toward the kitchen, passing right by William, who was leaning against the wall.
He released the sleep spell, hoping it would work. The turyn swirled around the duchess for a moment, then dissipated. She swayed for a moment but stayed upright. “Who did that?” she demanded.
Damn it, Will swore silently. Stepping forward, he moved in. Arlen Arenata’s eyes widened in alarm as she saw the strange blurring produced by his chameleon-cloaked body, then her head snapped sideways as his gloved fist slammed into the side of her head. She would have fallen against the wall, but he caught her shoulders.
Ideally, as he had envisioned it, he would ease her to the floor then move on, but the duchess wasn’t unconscious. She was stunned and badly hurt, but still struggling. She started to scream but he clapped his hand over her mouth, whereupon she promptly bit him. He jerked his hand away and hit her again, causing her head to bounce off the floor.
That should have been it, but no, she was still moving. Her mouth opened again, and this time he punched her in the belly, driving the wind from her lungs. While she gasped for breath, he tried the source-link spell and was relieved when it connected. Will drained the turyn from her until she finally succumbed and fell unconscious.
Wasting no time, he dragged her from the hall and around to the side of the stairs. He opened the hidden door there and dragged her body inside before closing the door. As he exited, he spotted a streak of blood on the floor. Was her nose bleeding? he wondered. It had happened so quickly that he hadn’t noticed.
Will felt thoroughly disgusted, not only with the violence, but with himself. Hitting a woman, especially an older one, felt wrong to him. To be fair, it always felt wrong, but beating a middle-aged woman senseless felt exceptionally repulsive. She was going to summon a demon lord and kill who knows how many people, he reminded himself. Plus, she’s already murdered at least one person. Never mind all the assassination attempts.
Rationalizing didn’t help. He still felt the sickening crunch as his fist had connected. How am I going to finish this if I’m already having trouble? he thought. He was snapped back to the present when he heard a male voice call from the parlor. “Arlen! Get back in here, you’re missing out!”
Seven more to go. It seemed impossible. Most of those remaining were sorcerers, but despite that fact Will didn’t want to kill them. He didn’t think any of them knew the true evil of sorcery and their only crime that he was aware of was that of showing up at the wrong party. He prepared a sleep spell and tried to decide whether he should wait or storm in.
The decision was taken from him when a man stepped out. Will waited to see if anyone else would join the man, but then against all luck, the newcomer’s eyes focused on Will. The man shouted an alarm and his fire elemental began to swell.
Shit! Will released the sleep spell, which failed, then he rushed forward, ignoring the fire elemental. He slipped past it and lifted one leg in a front kick, planting his boot in the man’s chest and sending him flying back into the parlor to crash atop a table laid out with tea and cakes. Chaos ensued.
A man at the far end of the room began a spell, drawing on his elemental, but Will was faster. He completed a point-defense shield in less than a second and put it directly in front of the man, whereupon the spell the man cast struck it and blew back, knocking Will’s enemy prone.
Will called
up the limnthal and summoned his last resort, a vial that he hoped would turn the tide in his favor. He tossed it forward and the vial broke in the middle of the room, sending an acrid wave of choking gas outward.
The gas had its intended effect, but it was at that point that Will realized his plan had a fatal flaw. While his opponents were indeed struggling to breathe, their elementals were just fine. He wasn’t just fighting five human sorcerers, he was fighting seven elementals, five of fire, and two of earth.
I’m about to die.
He ducked out of the doorway and prepared a spell he was intimately familiar with, though he felt remorse even as he did. I didn’t want it to happen like this.
That cost him several seconds, and one man ran out of the smoke just as he finished. Will began a second spell and smiled as his attacker made the mistake of swinging a fist in his direction. The man hadn’t taken stock of the armor Will was wearing. What had been meant as a jab to Will’s stomach turned into swearing as the man jerked back his wounded and possibly broken hand. Will released the force lance he had just constructed, and the nobleman’s torso exploded, sending blood and gore spraying back into the room.
Taking a deep breath, Will started into the smoke that only he could see clearly through, or so he thought. Something like a battering ram struck him in the chest, sending him flying into the wall beside the door. Looking down, he saw that the front of his breastplate had crumpled inward from the force of the blow. Fragments of stone dusted the front of him and fell to the floor.
I’d have died right there, he realized. As it was, he was struggling to get up from the ground. One of the fire elementals was almost on top of him, and he guessed that its owner had panicked, for it leveled a massive blast wave of fire at him. It was almost guaranteed to turn the house into a blazing tinderbox.
He expanded his outer shell of turyn and absorbed the flame attack, grateful for the turyn. Then he pushed himself away from the wall and released the spell he had prepared, putting everything he had into it.
A raging wind exploded outward from his body, and for a moment the Arenata living room was exposed to the full force of a tornado. The world around him disintegrated as people and furniture were tossed together in a destructive dance. When the wind died away a few seconds later, the parlor had become a bloody abattoir of flesh, bone, splintered wood, and offal.
Secrets and Spellcraft Page 48
