“We found King Darogen’s body.”
That was Chad Greyson, telling her mother what had transpired before their arrival.
“It was one of the creepiest things I ever saw,” continued the ranger. “The flesh was gray-blue, he’d been dead a while, but when I turned him over they started crawling out the side of his face. He was full of ‘em.”
“Did you kill them?” broke in Moira.
“Yeah,” he nodded, avoiding making eye contact with her. He had been uncomfortable around her since her return.
“You think they could attach themselves to other people?” asked the Countess.
Chad shrugged, but Moira was firm in her response, “We don’t know, but we should assume the worst.”
Penny pursed her lips, concerned. “How many do you think might be loose?”
“No way to know,” said Chad. “There was at least one per person on this field, whether living or dead.”
“I destroyed the ones removed from the living, but I can’t vouch for those killed during the battle by those strange weapons,” Moira told them. “Plus there were more in Earl Berlagen’s home. Father destroyed those, but it’s likely there were more hidden in the city.”
The Countess sighed, “It’s like the shiggreth all over again. We don’t know how many there are, or where they might be, or who they might be in…”
Gram coughed and Penny glanced at him, “Yes, Sir Gram, do you have something to add?”
“At least the people are well acquainted with them. They are no secret now. The Baron has had all the able bodied keeping watch over those still unconscious, making sure they are kept safe. They’ve caught several of the little monsters already, trying to creep into people’s mouths.”
Penny nodded, then addressed Moira, “I should like to meet your baron.”
“He isn’t my baron, Mother, but he did help save the city,” Moira replied emphatically.
“So everyone keeps telling me,” said Penny dryly. “Everyone that’s awakened has had a similar story, but from what your father and Gram have told me he did little more than protect you from the king, and unsuccessfully at that.”
Adrenaline shot through Moira and her heartbeat accelerated, but Myra cautioned her, Avoid the implication, speak of Gerold. Don’t let your emotions get the better of you.
“He’s a good man, with a kind and generous heart. I’m happy to give him most of the credit if it will help his people find direction in this chaos,” said Moira calmly.
“Where is he now?” asked the Countess.
“In the city,” volunteered Gram. “The palace was a shambles so he’s organizing the survivors at a place called the Dusty Doxy.”
“Dusty Doxy?”
“A tavern,” explained Chad. “The owner survived and hid in the cellars with a group of other citizens who were lucky enough to still be free of the parasites when everything went to hell.”
***
An hour later they stepped through the doors. A crowd of people turned to look at them, making note of the foreign livery of the Countess’ soldiers. Gram stood tall enough to look over their heads. He waved when he spotted Gerold, who made his way to them and cleared a path through the main room so they could find a quieter place near one wall.
“Countess, I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” he said once they could hear one another.
Moira gestured to him, “Mother, this is Gerold, the Baron of Ingerhold.”
“Well met, Your Excellency,” responded Penny, offering her hand to him. Her eyes fell on the older gentleman that stood beside him.
Gerold brushed his lips across her knuckles before gesturing toward his balding companion, “May I also introduce my friend to you, Your Excellency? This is His Grace, Lord Anselm, Archduke of Weltonbury and first in line to succeed our late king.”
Once the formalities were done Penny explained her position and offered whatever aid Cameron could provide. The archduke was the first to respond, “Your sentiments are appreciated, but I think Dunbar will be fine in most regards, once the chaos here has been sorted out. There is food aplenty, too much in fact, now that half of Halam has been lost. The Baron and I were just discussing the matter. I fear much of what we have may spoil before it is used.”
“My husband and I would still like to help in whatever way we can. Perhaps your surplus could be sold? You will need extra coin I am sure,” replied the Countess.
Gerold sighed, “The demand won’t support it. Our surfeit will overwhelm the markets here. The biggest problem will be dealing with the dead. It would take weeks to bury them all and even if we burn them we don’t have enough hands to manage it. Disease will be an issue if the bodies start to rot before we do something.”
“I think we can help with both problems,” said Penny. “My husband has long desired to connect his World Road to Dunbar, to facilitate trade. While that will take too long for this purpose, he can certainly help transport your goods to Lothion to sell at the markets there. We would also be happy to lend you our men to aid in cremating the dead.”
As they spoke Moira studied the archduke. He was a middle aged man with a growing paunch and bushy eyebrows. More important than that however, was the fact that she was certain he hadn’t been among the people she had freed, which meant he hadn’t had his memories adjusted. That, plus the fact that he was first in line of succession, could spell trouble for her plan to put Gerold on the throne.
With hardly a thought she sent a fine line of aythar out, touching Anselm’s aythar and making him feel unwell.
The older nobleman’s face paled and his hands began to shake. “Pardon me, my lady, I think I may need to sit down,” he told the Countess.
Moira stepped forward, concern written in her features, “Let me help you, my lord.” She took his arm and spoke to the others, “I’ll help His Grace find a seat and fetch him something to drink.”
Her mother and Gerold were just getting into the meat of their discussion, so they both nodded and let them go, intent on their conversation. Soon enough Moira had the nobleman all to herself.
She wasted no time. After prevailing on the barman to pour a tall beer for him she asked about his experience during the recent disaster.
“I was spared the worst of it,” he told her. Anselm’s hands were steadier now. “I was lucky enough not to have been infected by those metal creatures beforehand and I had stopped here when everything began. The mistress of the house, Tamara I believe her name is, sheltered us beneath the taproom.”
“So you didn’t see any of the battle outside the walls?” Moira asked him.
“Nor most of what happened within them either,” admitted the archduke.
“You must be very proud of Baron Ingerhold,” she told him. “He was very brave.”
Anselm frowned, “Gerold has always been a good man, but I find the tales to be strangely lacking in substance.”
“How so?”
“I have met dozens who claim to have seen his actions, but no one that actually remembers being helped. The stories are very vague and it worries me how many have openly suggested he should be crowned king in Darogen’s place,” said the archduke.
That was enough, Moira caught his mind in a grip of iron. The old man’s face went slack as she searched his memories. It didn’t take long to see that he had no intention of surrendering his place in favor of the Baron. She smiled, We can fix that easily enough.
When she helped him up a few minutes later he was a changed man. She began escorting him back to the others.
“Lady Moira?”
Moira realized the woman standing behind her and to one side, was Tamara, the owner of the tavern. “It’s you!” she exclaimed, feigning happiness. “Thank goodness you weathered the storm unharmed.”
Tamara curtsied when she saw Anselm turn toward her, “Your Grace.”
“No need for that,” he told her. “I am in your debt. I surely would have died if not for your aid.”
“Your Grace, would you mind if I took a minute to catch up with Tamara?” asked Moira.
“Not at all,” he responded. “I’m feeling much better. I need to finish talking to your lady mother.” He moved away with confidence in his stride.
“Was he alright?” asked Tamara after he had gone.
Moira raised her brows, “What do you mean?”
“He was just staring into space when I spotted you. I thought something might have happened,” said the red-haired woman.
“Oh he’s fine, just a dizzy spell I suppose. Who can tell with old men?” said Moira. “Tell me how things went for you yesterday. You must have been terribly frightened.”
“It was the most bizarre day I have ever seen,” said Tamara nodding.
Moira agreed, “It was a nightmare.” She noticed her mother’s eyes on her then, but Penny looked away when she glanced over. How long was she watching me? It shouldn’t matter, she hadn’t done anything visibly strange, but she worried anyway. What did Dad tell her last night?
***
It was late afternoon and they were preparing to return home. Penny had spent the day making arrangements and directing the men with her as to their duties for the morrow. They would be returning with her the next day with a larger contingent of men tasked with assisting the people of Halam in dealing with their scattered dead.
“Before we go I have one more thing to take care,” Penny told her daughter, and then she addressed Gram. “Where is Alyssa?”
He tensed, “I believe she is with Grace.”
Grace had finally awoken the previous evening, but she was still recovering. Alyssa had stayed with the smaller dragon as a precaution.
“Take me to her,” ordered the Countess.
Gram nodded, “Yes, Your Excellency.”
Since they were already at the teleportation circle they didn’t have far to go. Grace was resting in the barn of a small farmhouse less than a quarter of a mile from there. The owner of the farm hadn’t appeared, so they weren’t certain if the man or his family were dead or merely fled.
Chad Grayson and Alyssa were engaged in conversation when Moira and Penny entered. Gram followed close behind them, worry written on his face.
“My lady,” said the hunter, dipping his head. Alyssa kept her eyes on the ground.
The Countess acknowledged him but her attention was firmly on the young woman. She waved at the open barn door and the three guardsmen that had accompanied them filed in, moving to the sides. “Alyssa, or whatever your name properly is, you are under arrest for murder, kidnapping, and the assault of my guardsmen. You will surrender yourself to my men and accompany us to Castle Cameron, there to stand trial for your crimes.” There was steel in her voice.
“Yes, Your Exce…”
“Hold on!” interrupted Gram, moving to stand between his liege and his lover. “There’s more to this than what you’ve heard.”
Penny’s eyes were cold. “That will be seen during the trial. Stand aside, Sir Gram.”
“She didn’t want to be there. You don’t have to do this,” he answered, stubbornly keeping his place.
“Lilly Tucker is dead. My daughter was kidnapped. The trial will determine her responsibility in this matter. Now step aside Gram, unless you are thinking of violating your oath.”
“Mother, please, it doesn’t have to be like this,” said Moira. Her mother looked calm, but Moira’s magesight could sense the tension in her muscles. Penny’s hand rested lightly beside her sword hilt, ready for violence.
One of the guards stepped forward, pulling a pair of iron manacles from a heavy leather sack he had been carrying. I should have noticed those, thought Moira, but it hadn’t occurred to her to examine the guardsmen earlier.
“No!” said Gram, waving a hand at the man. “Step back.” He had a desperate glint in his eye.
Chad’s hand was on his long knife, “Think about what ye’re doin’ Gram. Ye’ll only make things worse.”
The moment teetered on a dangerous edge until Alyssa stepped past Gram, holding her wrists out to the guard with the manacles. “Let them take me, Gram. I must answer for what I’ve done,” she said sincerely.
The tension went out of his stance and Gram’s head bowed.
“Take her to the circle,” commanded the Countess. Still as stone, she watched the guards lead Alyssa out. Gram followed and Chad behind him, watching his young friend in case he had any more thoughts of rebellion.
Penny started to move, but Moira spoke, quiet fury in her voice, “That wasn’t necessary, Mother.”
“It was entirely necessary,” said Penelope, unfazed.
The cold dismissal sent fire running through Moira’s veins. “He’s in love with her. Are you trying to drive Gram away? What do you think he will do if he’s forced to choose between her and his loyalty to our house?” As much as she would rather Gram wasn’t in love with Alyssa, Moira didn’t want to see him do something stupid.
Penny turned, facing her daughter with one brow arched, “You’ll understand better when this is over. These things don’t go away. The matter needs to be handled sooner rather than later or it will become a festering wound.”
“She took three arrows protecting Rennie! Isn’t that enough?”
“Lilly Tucker is dead,” said Penny. “Do you think he can just bring her home and marry her? What about her brother, Peter? What about her fiancée? Do you think they will forget? What about everyone else living in Castle Cameron, or the town of Washbrook? Should we be allowed to ignore someone’s crimes if they’re inconvenient for us? Is she above the law simply because Sir Gram happens to be in love with her?”
Moira wanted to slap the superior expression from her mother’s smug face. “So you’d rather what—hang her?! Do you think Gram will thank you for that? He won’t stand for it. You’ll lose him, and what about Lady Hightower? How will she feel when he takes her and turns outlaw?”
Her mother drew a deep breath in before exhaling slowly, “Do you remember when your father faced trial in Albamarl?”
Moira frowned, wondering where she was heading. She nodded.
“I felt as you did then, or perhaps as Gram does now. I knew your father was blameless. A lot of people died, but he wasn’t directly responsible, and if he hadn’t done what he did things would have been much worse. He saved the world, and yet they drug him up before their grubby little court, and they judged him. The men that decided his fate had done nothing to save us from the catastrophe, but they presumed to mete justice to the man who had saved us all.
“I was furious, and I tried to convince your father to run away with me, to take you and your brothers and sister and run far, far away. But he wouldn’t do it. He had the power, they couldn’t have touched him if he hadn’t allowed it, but he refused to run. Gram’s mother represented him, and she could have gotten him off on a technicality, but he wouldn’t allow that either. Instead, he accepted the charges, and when they decided to humiliate him, to whip him like some dog, he bent his head and took it.
“Have you ever wondered why?” asked Penny.
Moira had heard most of this before, but she had never thought it was fair. She knew what her father’s answer had been, “He said that the people had to see that justice applied to the powerful as much as it did to the weak, but Alyssa isn’t a wizard. She isn’t a lord of the realm. Her punishment will prove nothing.”
“She has a powerful lover, and you are her friend, and she did commit several very serious crimes,” argued Penny. “You think I’m trying to drive Gram away? I’m trying to save him. If he’s ever going to live peacefully with that girl she has to face the consequences of her actions, in court, otherwise the people will never be satisfied. If she doesn’t, he’ll take her and run eventually anyway. This is their only chance.”
Her heartbeat slowed as confusion replaced her anger. She had been a hair’s breadth from attempting to change her mother’s mind forcefully. Moira stared at Penny, thinking carefully before asking, “What are you saying exactly?”
“That your father was right. If they had actually tried to execute him, perhaps he would have fled with me then, but he was determined to give the people justice.”
“But it wasn’t just!” exclaimed Moira. “He didn’t deserve that.”
“True justice is an illusion, but it’s necessary for a civil society to exist. He understood that, even then, and more importantly, he knew that for us to live as we do today, the people needed to feel that he had paid for the crimes they felt he had done. I’ll say it once more, he was right. And the same is true now. If Alyssa and Gram are to ever have a chance at living a normal life as man and wife, then the people harmed by her actions must feel that justice has been done.” The Countess paused for a moment then before adding, “Don’t tell your father I said that.”
“Said what?”
“That he was right. The man would be insufferable if he ever heard me admit it.”