The Blacksmith’s Son

Chapter 7

I got to the library without meeting anyone in the corridors, which was a relief. After the day I had had I wasn’t really looking forward to seeing people. Once inside I retrieved the book and took a moment to weigh it in my hands. It was an impressive tome weighing several pounds and covered with arcane words and symbols that glowed in my sight. Having already read a substantial part of Vestrius’ journal I felt sure it would make the remainder much easier to understand. Mastery of the Lycian tongue was quite literally the most important knowledge I could gain, it being the means for me to control my incipient abilities.

Feeling a little better I tucked it under my arm and headed back toward my room. My life might be a mess in most respects but here at least was a problem I could solve through honest application of effort. Wrapped in my own thoughts I barely noticed the voices coming from one of the rooms along the hallway. I kept walking, wondering how late I could stay up studying and still be able to rise at the proper time in the morning, when a shrill scream cut through my ruminations. It was a sound I’ll never forget. A raw expression of fear and terror, the sort of scream you sometimes imagine but never hope to hear. The sort of sound someone might make falling to their death. It stopped abruptly, cut off before it could be completed.

I looked around anxiously, unsure which direction it had come from. The book distracted me so I set it down against the wall to free my hands and walked back the way I had come. There. I could hear someone talking behind a door. I checked the doors on both sides before I found the correct one and leaning in I thought I could hear Devon’s voice, speaking calmly to someone else. I almost moved on at that point, surely the person that had given that blood curdling yell couldn’t be inside, not with Devon talking in such a composed manner.

I pulled my head back from the door frame, and then I felt a sudden release of power. My practice over the last few days had made me quite familiar with the sensation. That held my attention. I pressed my ear firmly to the door, straining to hear his voice through the thick wood. The words that finally came chilled my blood, “Sometimes it takes something like that to teach someone just how important life is, certainly it’s worth more than your maidenhead.” I couldn’t be sure who Devon was speaking to, but it was clear that whoever it was, they were in terrible trouble.

Unsure what to do I drew a deep breath and used the only spell I knew that might help, “Shibal,” I intoned quietly with as much power as I had, directing my will beyond the door. I listened again, I wasn’t sure but I thought I heard someone slump to the floor, and Devon was no longer talking. Satisfied I tried the door handle.

It was locked, of course. I had no knowledge that would get me past locked doors, and the doors in Castle Lancaster were so sturdily constructed it would take two men and a ram to batter one down. I stared at the door, angry at my own ignorance; surely if I were better educated there would be a simple way to bypass the lock. Thinking of the state the poor girl must be in gave urgency to my anger. Placing my hand on the door I closed my eyes and bowed my head. I took a deep breath and drew my power up as I filled my lungs, pulling in ever more, till it felt as if it would be a race to see which burst first, my mind or my chest. I had never tried to do something like this before but I knew that without proper words it would take a lot of strength. Then I began to exhale slowly, building pressure in my hand as it pressed against the door. As my breath emptied I began to feel the door give way and I blew the rest of the air from my lungs in an explosive rush. The result was an explosion of wood and splinters as the door disintegrated, slivers of wood flying in every direction.

The vision I found within was one that still gives me nightmares. Devon lay slumped on the floor on the opposite side of bed, but I had no attention to spare for him. The figure on the bed riveted me in place. It was Penny, her long dark hair had come loose from the bun she usually kept it in when working, and it lay scattered about her head in dark ringlets. Her uniform was ripped open, from her neck to her belly, exposing flesh that I had previously imagined but never hoped to see. Her skirt was shoved up above her hips and her legs were spread, one folded awkwardly under her, the while the other was stretched out, her foot touching the floor. She looked dead. A long splinter stood out from her right thigh, blood dripping down onto the linen sheets. If I could describe the emotion that filled me then I would, but there were no words, the world went white, as if all the color had been leached from it, leaving a horror of stark white and black contrasts.

I was numb with horror and shock while at the same time filled with a cold heartless rage. Walking over I bent down to pull the dagger from Devon Tremont’s belt, which was already partly undone. From the looks of things he hadn’t had time to bring his crime to fruition. It hardly mattered, Penny was dead. Her virginity or lack thereof would not bring her back to life, would not make her smile at me again. I knelt beside the bed, and though I cannot remember feeling anything but a cold numbness, tears ran down my face.

Carefully, I brought the dagger to bear, directly over the bastard’s still beating heart, careful not to prick him with the point lest it wake him before I made the final plunge. I held it there for a timeless moment. My only worry was that it was too clean a death, better than he deserved. That momentary debate was all that saved his life.

A sudden sound broke my train of thought, an incongruous noise, too improbable to belong there. Penny was snoring. If it had been a light snore I might have missed it, but this was no delicate thing, it was a deep rumbling vibration. The sort a fat farmer might make after having too much ale and passing out in his bed. It led me out of the dark place that had replaced my heart, and improbably I began to laugh.

It was an awful laugh as such things go; when it started it was a terrible sound, a wretched gibbering sound, the kind of laugh to make townsfolk shutter their windows and lock their doors. As it stretched on though my stomach relaxed and I began to laugh more naturally, a deep belly laugh, interspersed with gasps as I struggled to catch my breath. Eventually the laughter faded into tears and I cried quietly till I got control of myself.

Easing myself up from the floor I began to think. Carefully I drew the splinter from Penny’s leg, which caused it to start bleeding again. I watched her face to see if she might waken, but I had put a lot of power into the spell and she hardly stirred. Reaching down I cut a long strip from the bed sheet and used it to bind her wound. Then I straightened up and surveyed the room.

It was a mess to say the least. Jewelry lay scattered on the floor, interspersed with oaken shards. The sheets were stained where Penny had bled upon them, and two people lay sleeping in varying degrees of disarray. It was too much to deal with all at once, so I did the most important thing first. Bending down, I slipped my arms underneath Penelope, easing one arm behind her shoulders and the other beneath her knees. It was not the best angle to stand up from and I staggered for a moment, nearly stepping on Devon’s head. Aww, that would have been a shame, to ruin those pretty features. I thought sarcastically. I couldn’t risk waking him though. Penny was not a slight girl, she was nearly as tall as me and hard work had given her plenty of muscle, yet she felt light as a feather in my arms. Adrenaline I suppose, but I didn’t bother to think about it.

I walked out into the hallway and made my way to my room as quickly as I could. Hers might have been better but I had no idea where she kept her quarters. Gently I laid her upon my bed, taking a moment to cover her with the blankets. I returned to the hall and recovered the book where I had left it leaning against the wall and went back to stow it safely with the others in my room. Each trip took several minutes and I worried constantly that I might meet someone in the halls. It was past midnight and my luck held; the corridors were deserted. I still had several problems.

I needed help and there was only one person I could trust at this hour. Fifteen minutes later I was standing outside the door of the Thornbear household. Lord Thornbear was the seneschal for Castle Lancaster and accordingly his family lived in the large bailey overlooking the main gate. The night air was damp and a light rain had begun so I was a little wet when I got to their door, which suited my mood just fine. A sleepy servant opened the door, a man I knew from my previous stays with the Thornbear family. I’m not sure if he had a surname as I had only ever heard him addressed as ‘Remy’.

“Mort, what in the name of the gods are you doing out here at this hour?” He kept his voice lowered to keep from waking the family.

“Remy, I know this seems odd, but I want you to wake Dorian for me, quietly if you can, I need to speak with him.” I tried to put as much sincerity in my voice as possible.

“Fine fine, let me see…” he turned and promptly ran into the door frame. “Damn!” he cursed quietly, “Nobody cares if Remy gets any sleep now do they? No of course they don’t, Remy don’t need no sleep do he?” He was muttering to himself as he stumbled back into the Thornbear family rooms.

I waited anxiously for several minutes before Dorian appeared at the door. “Mort, I don’t mean to be rude, but it is really late…” he started. Then he saw my face. Something there must have tipped him to my desperation. “Hang on, let me get my cloak.”

A moment later we were hurrying back across the courtyard to the castle proper. I should mention that Dorian is one of those rare individuals that sleeps wearing a long stocking cap. He had forgotten to remove it in his haste and I didn’t have the heart to remind him. Some things are better left unsaid, and I needed all the humor I could find that dark night.

As we went I tried to explain to him what had happened, but I don’t think it sank in properly till he saw Penny sleeping in my bed. With the covers drawn she looked like an angel lying there.

“Do you know where her chamber is? I need to get her back to her own room before she wakes.” I told him.

“Sure but I doubt we can get her in there without waking the other maids,” he replied.

“Leave that to me.” I moved over to stand at the side of the bed, preparing myself to pick her up again.

“Do you need me to carry her?” he asked. I considered his offer for a moment, but something inside of me snarled at the thought of anyone else touching her. Something had broken inside when I found her in that room and I didn’t yet even know to mourn for my lost innocence.

“No, no, I have her. If you could just help with the doors and lead the way.” I drew back the covers and lifted her up from the bed. This time I could feel the strain in my back, exhaustion and lack of sleep were beginning to take their toll.

The air hissed between Dorian’s teeth as he drew a sharp breath, seeing her state. The torn dress, the blood, I couldn’t blame him. I felt much the same. I cradled her in my arms and looked into his gaze. Fury dwelled within him, and I wondered what we might do once we had put her safely to her bed. “Who did this Mordecai?” His voice held dark intent.

“Not yet Dorian, we have to take care of Penny first.” I prayed he could keep his calm.

“I said, who did this Mordecai!” he wasn’t in a mood to wait.

“Listen Dorian,” I started to say, but he interrupted me.

“No you listen! I want to know who did this and I want to know now!” he was shouting.

“Goddammit!” I yelled back, “Shut the fuck up and think for a second!” I believe that was the first time I had ever raised my voice to him. He closed his mouth, startled, so I went on, “What do you think will happen to Penny if someone sees her like this? She’ll be ruined! Her father is destitute, she has no dowry; she’d never be able to get married. No one would take her! Whether she’s been ‘spoiled’ or not won’t matter once the rumors start flying.” I took a deep breath and calmed down. Looking at Dorian I could see he was still listening.

“Now are you going to help me get her to her room or do I have to do it by myself?” I started toward the door. Dorian was there before me and got it open.

He led me down several flights of stairs to the lowest floor of the keep; staying ahead of me the entire way, checking each doorway to see if anyone was up and about. We got to the maid’s quarters without incident, yet when he opened the door someone stirred. It was fairly dark, but a woman’s nervous voice called out, “Who’s there?” Dorian ducked back from the entryway quickly and I didn’t waste any time.

“Shibal” I put as much strength into it as I could still muster, not bothering to focus it in any particular direction. Again I noticed that Dorian was completely unfazed. I would really have to look into that one of these days, but now was not the time. I stepped inside and looked around.

It was too dark to see, so Dorian lit a lamp after I assured him none of the occupants would be waking up anytime soon. The room contained five small beds, all but one held sleeping women. Dorian drew the sheets back while I placed her carefully down. Then I began the difficult process of getting her clothes off.

“What are you doing?” Dorian hissed at me.

“Turn around if it bothers you, I’ve got to get rid of the evidence. In fact, turn around anyway, it bothers me.” When had I developed this jealous streak?

I wasn’t having any luck with her dress, so I drew my knife and began cutting it away. It was already spoiled, so it didn’t matter. Once I had it off I couldn't help but look at her for a moment. Say what you will, but I’d like to see you pretend not to notice the most beautiful woman in the world lying naked in front of you. If you said you hadn’t stared, even for a moment, I’d call you a damn liar.

Regardless, I was very focused on making sure Penny was safe. I drew the covers over her and stood back up. Glancing around I noticed a plain nightdress neatly folded under her bedside table. I quickly dismissed the thought of dressing her in it. I didn’t see how I could manage it properly so she would just have to figure that part out in the morning. I also took a moment to make sure she had a second uniform. It turns out she had three, well two now. That was one thing less to worry about at least.

I balled up her ruined outfit and rummaged about the room for a moment till I found a scrap of parchment and a charcoal pencil. I hastily penned a note.

Say nothing. We’ll talk later.

~Mort

I tucked the note under her nightdress and hoped she would find it in the morning. Then we went, leaving the room much as we had found it. It was near three in the morning now and I worried that Devon might have woken up while we were about our business. I needn’t have worried though, he was still sleeping like a babe when we got back to his room, the bastard.

I turned to find Dorian staring at the scene, “Where’s the door Mort?” He looked at the splintered wood on the ground and then saw the look in my eyes. I had never seen fear in my stalwart friend’s face before, but I saw it flicker there now. It made me feel old and tired; a strange sensation to have at sixteen. “Did you?” he motioned at the shattered wood with his hand.

“Yeah,” I answered. What else was I going to say? Then I heard Devon stir, as if he might wake. “Shibal” I put as much strength as remained to me into it. A wave of dizziness swept over me and I nearly fainted then, but Dorian caught my shoulder as I swayed and helped me sit down on the bed.

I looked at the floor for a moment, trying to think, when I heard the sound of steel being drawn. Dorian was moving toward Devon now, cold murder on his face. “Wait!” I said.

“Why?” he asked in return.

“Honestly I don’t know, but if we kill him now we’re both dead men, and I don’t think that would make Penny very happy. If we’re going to give this bastard his comeuppance we’ll have to find another way, but not now, not tonight. We’re too tired to think straight,” I said. That sounded entirely too logical to be coming out of my mouth. Someone else must have been talking when I wasn’t looking.

Dorian struggled with himself for a moment before finally sheathing his sword, “Alright,” he said, “what do we do about the door?”

“Well there’s no way to fix it,” I replied. “Would one of the other doors fit?”

“Wait here,” Dorian looked like he knew what he was doing, so I laid back on the bed and waited. I must have dozed off for a bit, because it seemed like only a moment before he returned carrying another door. He had a hammer and a couple of other tools tucked into his belt.

He soon had the new door on the hinges, and I had to admit it looked a lot like the original. I wasn’t sure if anyone would notice the difference but I was too tired to care. Dorian went off again and came back with a broom. I swear he was getting positively domestic. He cleaned the floor without my help, but I like to think I supervised. He got all the wood up he could find, being careful to leave the jewelry where it lay; then in a stroke of pure genius, he plucked up a bottle of red wine from the credenza.

“Wha?” I asked intelligently, as he smashed it on the floor next to Devon’s head.

“Maybe the fool will think she brained him with it. At the very least his clothes will be ruined, he should count himself lucky.” He helped me up and half carried me to my own room. You can never have enough friends like Dorian, but I was grateful to have him. I never could have finished our night’s deception without him.

I sank slowly into the soft feather bed, but as I drifted off I couldn’t help but wonder, what would Devon think when he discovered his key no longer fit the lock on his chamber door? That made me chuckle for a second, then I was asleep.