Stained Glass Monsters

Chapter Eleven

Darasum House, the home of Earl Forinth, rested white and shimmering at the crest of a gentle hill. Before it, in what Rennyn was told was the Verisian style, was a great sweep of grassland exactly bisected by a series of terraced, stone-edged pools stretching halfway down to Carnell Lake. Spear-slim cypress in pale stone urns marched down the centre of the pool, with a rigidly kept herbal border keeping exact pace on either side. Between house and pools bloomed a rose garden of scrupulous symmetry.

The Earl had been informed well in advance that an incursion had been predicted to take place on his estate. He was a bluff, slightly pompous man in his forties, all rosy cheeks and moustaches. Rennyn had found his mixture of affront and stifled pleasure in the proceedings rather endearing. Then Solace’s focus had led them a third of the way down that magnificent, carefully-tended stretch of grass and the day had ground to a halt.

Feeling sorry for both the Earl and the two Hand mages trying to calm him, Rennyn wandered back up the lawn and explored the roses. She was joined by the Earl’s wife, Lady Risdale, a heavyset, red-faced woman who told her the names of different flowers and watched imperturbably as her husband gesticulated and shouted in the distance while the mass of Ferumguard and Sentene waited to one side.

"How very out of place they look," Lady Risdale remarked. "Like some fantastical flock brought on the wind. Shall I go calm him? You must be anxious to prepare."

"The breach isn’t due till late afternoon." Rennyn glanced up at the high sun. "This parkland is worth a few minutes' protest."

"Grass will grow back. And it will give him something to point to and boast of." Lady Risdale smiled indulgently. "He has been very excited, and will remember the alternative soon enough. He will dine out on what he sees tonight for years."

Rennyn glanced sideways at the noblewoman, at the lines of care and humour on her face. "Don’t," she said. "Watch them build it if you wish, but not the rest. Go into the village for the evening. And send your servants away."

"You think there is a risk some will escape this shield?"

"I think you would not be able to describe what happens tonight and stomach a meal."

Lady Risdale’s smile faded, and she stood motionless as her husband made a dramatic gesture and began striding toward the house. "I have already sent the children to my mother. I will – wish you luck, Lady Montjuste-Surclere."

Murmuring her thanks, Rennyn walked back down to the cluster of uniformed figures as they switched into action. By the time she reached them, Earl Forinth’s sweeping lawn had a large circle cut out of it, beetles and earthworms squirming away from their sudden exposure. A spot toward the outer edge of the expanse of scythed grass seemed near enough, and Rennyn cleared and marked a far more modest circle, then spent some time casting defensive enchantments on herself. The Sentene had been discussing ways to overcome the practical difficulties of protecting someone in the Eferum, but if that was even close to easy, summoning focuses would not be so perilous. Captain Illuma was playing bodyguard today, and all she could do while her charge was in the Eferum was wait for her return. Rennyn thought she detected faint approval for her precautions, but doubted any of the Kellian enjoyed having their hands tied.

Returning from Surclere, her small group had found almost the entire complement of Tyrland’s Sentene and more than half of the Hand waiting at Fenlis, the village abutting Darasum Park. Change your tactics. They weren’t certain this referred to the shield, but Lady Weston had wasted no time after reviewing the report Captain Faille had sent ahead about the projection. She would not risk a repeat of Asentyr.

Rennyn, stretching after a tedious round of casting, nodded brief farewell to Captain Illuma and fed the Sigillic until it shifted her into the cold embrace of the Eferum. Solace’s focus, now attached to a chain and heavy bracelet, immediately dragged at her hold and nearly slipped free of her fingers. It had taken a major step toward being one with the Grand Summoning, and she shuddered at the weight of power it allowed her to sense.

She’d prepared for an ambush by Eferum-Get, but the dark sea showed no unusual signs of life, and her divinations revealed only minor creatures some distance away. Perhaps, now that the Sentene were sealing these major breaches, there would be no more attempts at spectacular incursions.

Still cautious, Rennyn next triggered the divination which would measure the force approaching her. Soon. She cupped the vessel in both hands and waited, having no plans to linger a moment longer than necessary. The wave was coming.

And a tiny star came with it. Rennyn frowned, but it was not headed for her. A single Eferum-Get, one of the scaled and winged Darensi, was guiding a compact mote of tightly-wound Efera toward the forming breach. Some kind of casting? It looked like the hint to change tactics had been a warning that the Eferum-Get were about to alter theirs.

Knowing there was little chance of being able to return before that thing had gone through the breach, Rennyn concentrated on making the attunement, choosing the best moment rather than rushing. The younger focus pulled at her till she felt she was a fisherman who had hooked a whale. She would have to set her circle further from the breach next time, or risk being dragged in.

"Hello cousin."

As shock sent a cold spike down her spine, arms closed around her waist. And, far worse, two injunctions settled on her as he spoke, binding her from casting and moving. Immediately she tried to break them, to overwhelm them with her sheer strength, but they were an odd structure, layered as if she were wound in a thousand cords which flexed instead of snapping. She couldn’t stop Solace’s second son as he tightened his arms, pressing against her back.

"We have so much to talk of, cousin, but first I think a moment’s silence only appropriate. You must say goodbye to your little friends."

Rennyn couldn’t make the adjustment to look through the veil, couldn’t see what that mote was doing. She couldn’t even close her eyes. But the hot circle of power which was the shield abruptly flared and vanished, leaving her surrounded by darkness.

She pushed harder against the invisible bonds, feeling them stretch and fray. It would break, strand by strand if necessary, but the question was how much time she’d have to do it. Rennyn had never met an injunction so well built, its strength not drawn from any massive amount of power, but the intricacy of structure. What kind of mage was he? She’d not been able to detect his presence, but he had unerringly found her. She hadn’t had time to trigger even one of her defences. But he hadn’t killed her yet.

"How your heart is beating, cousin." The arms around her waist tightened further, and he rested his cheek against the side of her throat. She could feel his heart beating too. Fast. Excited.

"My name is Helecho," he continued, in a conversational tone. "I thought you should know. I’m going to have you, you see. You’re mine from the moment I walk into your world. You should know the name of the one who owns you."

With unhurried deliberation he undid the top four buttons of her shirt and pulled it loose at the throat, then began to kiss the side of her neck. The touch of his lips sent a blank incredulity through Rennyn, but the jolt woke a spark of hope. He wasn’t going to kill her, not right away at any rate. And no matter how well-built these injunctions, she had the advantage of strength. The longer he delayed, the more certain became her escape.

An injunction was an unequal battle of strengths. Structured magic was always stronger than the pure will of Thought casting which was the only recourse of a person under an injunction. Rennyn had been able to break Lady Weston’s injunction quickly because she was that much stronger than the Grand Magister, and the woman had not been prepared and so used a very straightforward Sigillic spell inscribed on a bracelet. This Helecho’s injunctions hadn’t used even half as much power as the Grand Magister’s, but their layers stretched instead of obligingly snapping.

Anger helped. All she was able to do was stand there while he nuzzled and licked her throat, his arms wrapping so tightly back around her waist her stomach felt bruised. It was revolting, infuriating. And then he freed one arm so he could slide a hand inside her shirt, beneath her thin camisole to fondle her breast. Outrage roared through her and she stoked it, concentrated it, fed it. Thought magic was as much will as raw strength, and the injunction was becoming badly frayed.

"I can’t promise to treat you well," he murmured, nipping lightly at her skin. His teeth were sharp. "Rather the opposite. But you mustn’t give in. Too dull, if you crumble straight away."

He was so pleased. Enjoyment of her situation radiated off him, and his excitement was reaching a fever-pitch as he bit her again and again, each time coming closer to breaking the skin. He squeezed her breast in painful accompaniment, twisting soft flesh cruelly, and made a little noise in his throat, one of triumph and satisfaction, and it was too much. It was enough.

Shedding fragments of the casting, Rennyn thrust him furiously away, and triggered one of the spells she’d prepared. The Efera all around her ignited, white fire blasting out into the darkness. Without pause she followed it with three expanding circles which would cut through anything, but they sliced into nothing. Unlike her, he could easily move through the Eferum.

"So powerful." The gloating words drifted out of the darkness, out of her reach. "I am going to enjoy you, little cousin."

Shuddering, Rennyn refastened her shirt as she tried to isolate from which direction the voice had come. "Not if I see you first, worm." She guessed a direction and spent her anger in a meaningless bolt of pure force, but there was no sign that she’d hit anything. This was his home ground and there was no value in lingering, so she made the shift back to the far side of the veil. And fell.

Strong arms caught her. Rennyn gasped, and clutched at an unseen shoulder, then stared about her. She’d forgotten the mote of worked Efera.

It was night, with a low sliver of moon. The carefully smoothed earth where she’d marked her circle was gone. Most everything was gone, replaced by a massive crater, a dozen feet deep in the centre. It covered a quarter of the lawn, shearing the stone-lined pool in two. The explosion hadn’t reached the house or even the rose garden, but dirt and stone had been flung in every direction, sparing little.

The arms holding her tightened, and Rennyn looked up. Captain Illuma, faintly luminescent in the moonlight. There were others: Danress, Faille, and Illuma’s partner Vesan. Waiting patiently for her return.

"How many dead?" Rennyn asked, struggling to control herself.

"Three," Captain Illuma replied, and started walking out of the crater. "But few escaped without injury."

Looking around, Rennyn was surprised there hadn’t been more deaths. "The shield didn’t contain the blast?"

"The shield was the blast," Lieutenant Danress explained. "Some kind of spell which converted the shield’s energy. You were a long time returning."

"Yes." It was a dry little word, and Rennyn closed her eyes to push away the sudden roil in her stomach. "Solace’s second son calls himself Helecho, and he is enjoying himself far too much. I don’t think the intention was to kill me, though. He didn’t even try to take my focus, and he could have very easily. A taunting kind of creature, this uncle of mine. Playing games."

They had reached flatter ground, so Rennyn slid free of Captain Illuma’s hold, concentrating as tightly as she could on business, on what must be done. "I learned a couple of things. He’s at a disadvantage in terms of power. He can’t have summoned a focus of his own, perhaps is unable to without coming to this world first. So though his castings might be technically skilled, there’s a limit to the scope of them."

"Broad enough." Danress' voice was bitter.

"He’s nigh-undetectable in the Eferum," Rennyn continued. "So I will change my approach there. I think I should be able to avoid another ambush. What do the Hand say about using the shield again?"

"They debate the point," Illuma said, leading the way toward the drive. "And will put the question to the Grand Magister."

Rennyn nodded, then retreated into silence for the walk to the coaches and the ride to the nearby village. She was tired, cold, hungry, and had been…wounded. And three more people were dead. Just for the night, she wanted a way to stop thinking. She wanted her father.

"Why are you frightened?"

Startled, Rennyn looked up. She hadn’t even noticed the coach draw to a halt, or the door open. Captain Faille was a pearl-tipped shadow blocking the way out. "What?" she asked, not equal to any better answer.

In the pause before he responded Rennyn could hear the sounds of people moving about, of horses. They’d reached the inn the Hand had commandeered.

"You are perhaps not so arrogant as you pretend," Captain Faille said finally, in his soft, attenuated voice. "But you are secure in your abilities. You did not so much as flinch when we met at Finton. During the incursion in Asentyr your plans were completely overset, and that casting was one which had every likelihood of killing you. It barely made you hesitate. In Surclere, this second son’s existence was simply a new factor to include in your calculations. But now you are frightened. Why?"

Rennyn stared, resenting the uniform which hid so much of his face, and the lighting which always conspired to make Kellian impossible to read. Surely she could not be so transparent as he made it sound. How much more had he seen? He was risky, more dangerous than she’d realised. But, all the same, the question deserved an answer.

"I was raised to do everything I could to stop Solace," she said. "Or to die trying. I’m used to that idea. But I never pictured anything but a quick death. The idea of being…brutalised by this son of Solace, that is new to me." Her skin crawled at unwanted memory, and she pressed her lips together to control them.

A slight shift of position was all of his response, and then he stepped aside. Rennyn escaped upstairs, to the room she’d left her bags in hours ago. A tray of food had been set out waiting but, hungry as she was she couldn’t face it, and stood by the fire clenching her fists. Frightened. It was true. It was what that gloating snake had been trying to achieve.

A tap at the door broke into her angry thoughts, and Rennyn turned a less than pleasant expression on the two maidservants who opened it.

"You ordered a bath, M’Lady?" the first girl asked uncertainly, balancing one end of a large tin tub.

Rennyn hadn’t, but realised it was precisely what she needed and nodded stiffly, then went to the food tray and forced herself to eat while the maids carried in bucket after bucket of steaming water.

Captain Faille saw entirely too much.