Brothers: Legacy of the Twice-Dead God (103 page)

“I fully believe that Martin can call up the
Castle,” he said and he did seem confident his brother could pull
it off well. “The problem is he said something in front of Mother.
Now, she wants him to prove it.” He wasn’t trying to hide his smile
at all. “I think she’s in for a big surprise, really.” He stamped
his foot and a rumble issued through the ground.

The first level of wards, never truly
extinguished, tightened around us and through the grounds with a
definite feeling of eager and nervous energy and just a touch of
defiance. Marty, through and through. Peter and I both jumped up
into the wards, splitting our attention between ourselves and Marty
ensconced there. Behind him, watching, stood John and Enid, who
wore an energy harness of some kind attached to her aura. When I
looked at it closely, it appeared to be something like a child’s
safety seat with circuit breakers attached. Assuming it was Marty’s
safety net in case something went wrong in raising the Castle, I
idly traced the connections back and went back to watching Marty
work, methodically activating and deactivating different systems,
counting people, acknowledging relationships between areas of the
farms and stables. A boring three seconds of maintenance that he
handled with practiced ease.

That’s when I noticed he wasn’t the occupant
of Enid’s safety net—Felix was. He was very weak and still bleary
around the edges but he was eagerly watching Martin around Enid’s
aura.

“Why didn’t you tell us Felix was awake?” I
asked Gordon, still staring at the house like answers would pop out
on a ticker tape.

“Shut!” barked Gordon, his eyes flashing dark
for a second, then brightening again instantly. He whispered,
“Nobody’s supposed to know that yet. Especially Martin. Not
yet.”

The next stage of wards flared to life and
space underneath them thickened considerably. Creating a portal
through it would have been extremely difficult, if possible at all,
and Martin’s awareness of hundreds of acres increased a
thousandfold. From here, Martin could identify people as if he was
in front of them all across the property. People like Gordon and
John, bonded to the wards, could communicate with him. I was able
to slip in and out of those bonds and I assumed that Peter could do
the same.

When Marty brought up the final stage of the
wards, I understood why they capitalized the “C” in “bringing up
the Castle”—it was freakin’ awesome! This was a Castle! Energy
constructs of gold lit the front of the house in a classic
fortification of stony structure. Turrets loomed high overhead
promising to rain arrows, rocks, or even boiling oils down on us at
any moment. Dark magenta and black sigils marred the sides in an
angry script, promising to rebound and magnify magical attacks to
the attackers. Stony gargoyles glistening in the sun roamed a thin
ledge halfway up the walls to deter approach from that route. The
parapets were lined every few feet with cannons—Cannons!—every
fifth one bigger than the others. Slits near the top were just wide
enough to allow bowmen, or in this age gunmen, to fire on an
advancing enemy from relative safety. And it had a moat. Swirling
in angry red around the base of the golden construct was a
fast-flowing river, fifty feet wide, of pure ley line energy.

“Wow,” Ian said. Yep, he spoke for all of us.
It was impressive. Gordon started laughing. Martin appeared in the
doorway of his Castle, looking incredibly small in the big house
and the Castle superimposed so immensely around him.

“You cheeky bastard!” Gordon yelled across
the moat to him. “The moat? You brought out the moat?”

Marty puffed his chest out and hollered back,
“Told you I could do it!”

I heard a small ruckus to our left and looked
at a small crowd of men and women that had gathered nearby. Mostly
people I recognized, Billy among them, from the house and grounds
with a few new arrivals. Money was being exchanged rapidly, and
obviously, and all from new arrivals to the people I knew. A surge
of pride and admiration flowed through their auras brightly.
Apparently, they had a betting pool going. Billy nodded his head at
the Castle and smiled. Then he held his hand out, not looking back.
The betting winners grimaced, then piled their money in his
outstretched hand.

Meeting my look and still smiling, with his
free hand he mimed a circle on the ground and mouthed, “I bet on
the moat.”

“You can bring it down now!” yelled Gordon.
“Then turn around!”

Martin began the process of bringing the
Castle down to less energetic levels. It took much longer than
bringing the Castle up. Marty had to realign two ley lines during
this task and it was just as important as raising the Castle.

“I take it the moat is a big deal?” I asked
Gordon as he waited impatiently for the last of the red energy to
trickle away from the drive.

“Hah!” he barked, his spirits high and happy.
“Cahill hasn’t been able to fill the moat in close to three hundred
years. Whatever you and Kieran have done has cleared and repaired
several things. He did very well, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes,” said Peter. “That was
impressive.”

“Could I do that?” Ian asked Ferrin, eagerly
and awed at the prospect. Ferrin was struck by the question, not
knowing how to answer without crushing Ian’s feeling.

“No, Yonnie, I’m afraid not,” he said softly.
“It’s a matter of control…” He struggled for the right words.

“Marty was born under these wards,” Gordon
said to Ian. “He was bonded to them at an early age, just as I was.
It’s nothing against you or your abilities or your brother’s. The
Castle is the haven, the last defense for my home and my people. As
such, we can let very few people have control of that. When the
Castle was up a moment ago, even I couldn’t get in and I know them
as well or better than Martin does. We can’t have a battle inside
the Castle, fighting for control.”

Ian nodded at Gordon with understanding. He
was a latchkey kid before Dunstan’s so he understood the idea at
least. We all started for Marty once the moat finally trickled
away. We heard him call “Da?” and Gordon looked up smiling.

“He finally turned around,” he said as Marty
ran up into the house.

“You gonna tell us now?” I asked. Ferrin
looked completely lost.

“Da woke up an hour ago,” Gordon said. “He
overheard me snapping at Martin about being mean to John in the
room next to his. I know I shouldn’ta and he was right, but John
has been Da’s man for a long time and it made me mad. So Da talked
Mother into making Martin prove it. And the cheeky bastard got the
moat up!” He couldn’t contain himself any longer and took off at a
run through the doors and up the stairs.

“See? I told you it would work out,” I heard
Ferrin whisper to Ian, hugging the boy tightly. “He works
miracles.”

Damn, I wish people would quit saying
that.

Chapter 58

Ian touched the hilt of the Day Sword with
one finger under Ferrin’s nervous eyes. I was needlessly wiping the
scabbard down with a silk cloth. The Night sat on my bed to the
left of me, the Crossbow snapped into the Quiver in front of me,
both freshly and needlessly cleaned and cared for. Ferrin basked
his little brother in some of the legends associated with each
weapon as I went. I reinforced with each what he could and could
not touch, even with me sitting an inch away.

John had met us in the foyer of the house
after Gordon took off after Martin and led us through the armory
into a smaller and more heavily warded room. Unsealing the door, he
dragged Peter and Ferrin inside, leaving Ian and me outside. When
they came out, Peter had two knives stuck into each boot and two on
his belt. Ferrin had a similar knife on his belt and around his
neck, he wore a thin leather strap with sharp iron spikes. It was
more in line with his street punk attitude than the country
gentleman veneer he showed around Ian. John resealed the room then
excused himself again.

Ferrin’s nervousness subsided considerably as
I slid the scabbard onto the Day without moving the Sword off the
bed. I admit mine did, too. Even certain the Day wouldn’t have
taken Ian, it was still a very sharp blade. Peter sat in the chair
in the corner near where his earlier note lay (hopefully) decaying,
tossing one of his newly acquired knives deftly between his hands,
bouncing it off his forearms, chest, and thighs. I wasn’t aware
that he knew those tricks and he was good at it. He hadn’t cut
himself once. I’d have been stew meat by now.

I called the weapons in and they flew into me
from the bed. Ian gasped, then grinned when they disappeared into
me. Ferrin stood and discreetly left the room.

“I felt the same way the first time that
happened to me,” I told Ian.

“Where do they go?”

“I have a place in my head they gather in,” I
answered. “Well, not really my head, it’s more like where my
imagination sits. And they’re there, too, along with a bunch of
other things. Don’t you have a place like that in your head?”

“Not that I could put stuff in,” Ian said
shaking his head.

“Show him the armor,” Peter said, sheathing
his knives.

“This isn’t show and tell, Peter,” I
admonished.

“Please!” Ian whined, making the word last a
full minute, seemed like.

Peter winced. “I see why my parents waited so
long between kids.”

“All right, all right,” I gave in and stood
up off the bed. “Just this once, but these aren’t toys just to show
around. These are powerful and dangerous tools, just like Gordon
was talking about with the Castle, okay?” Ian giggled and nodded,
sitting cross-legged on the bed expectantly. I called on the Stone
for the armor and Ian’s face cracked in surprise. He looked me up
and down slowly, then climbed off the bed slowly and walked around
me. He reached out and touched my stomach, lightly at first, afraid
the armor would bite in some way like the Swords, then more
brazenly when I didn’t object.

“You’re bigger,” he muttered.

“Yeah, that’s armor for you,” I said, melting
the helmet. “Seen enough?”

He ran his fingers up over the ridges of the
abdominal muscles that I didn’t really have then nodded absently. I
let the armor slip back into the Stone. I felt John come into the
hallway between our rooms just as Ferrin came out of his.
Exchanging a few words, John left and Ferrin came back in, dressed
in what was becoming his less familiar street attire.

“While they appreciate the extra hour you’ve
given them,” he said without fanfare, “they are as ready as they’ll
ever be and are waiting in the fore garden with all the food they
can muster.”

“Does anybody know where the fore garden is?”
I asked.

“It’s got to be the one with all the people,”
offered Peter.

“I do. I’ll show you,” said Ian, grabbing
Ferrin’s hand and dragging him out the door. He was unfazed by
Ferrin’s clothes, but I wanted to object and loudly. I brushed the
wards and saw instantly where we were headed: just off the dining
room sat a terraced garden I hadn’t been in with a large, long
table stretched out near an exit fromthe kitchens. Clumps of people
were there, eating and talking. It looked like a big party, though
the mood of the people didn’t match the joviality they portrayed as
I watched. Ian’s route to the garden was far more direct than any I
knew, down a long narrow set of stairs with a couple of quick turns
down some halls I hadn’t seen before. We came out through a door
near the kitchen and behind the banquet table. I was gonna have to
get a map from Gordon or Marty.

We walked around to the far end of the table,
looking over the crowd milling about. Anxiety levels were high, but
everyone seemed focused. At the moment, everyone was focused on the
double doors to the dining room. Ian headed for Martin and Gordon,
still dragging Ferrin along, so we followed, slowing long enough to
snag a piece of a submarine sandwich off the table. Ian and Martin
started talking instantly. Marty had been surrounded by adults too
long and fell right into being an excited kid.

“Who are we waiting for?” Peter asked
Gordon.

Gordon turned and said, “Seth and Peter
should be down any…” He stopped when he realized he was talking to
Peter. “You came down the back stairs, didn’t you?”

Peter nodded, munching the last of his
sandwich. “Ian brought us.” Ferrin and I stood by and looked
innocent. Well, we were innocent.

Gordon smiled and shook his head. Facing the
group, he called out loudly, “Ladies and gentlemen, if I may have
your attention please. It’s time to begin.” Everyone turned to
Gordon and quieted immediately. Bishop strode through the crowd,
jumping the terrace wall to join us.

“I’m going to put a bell on you boys,” he
said as he passed us. “Thank you, Gordon.” I felt Bishop press his
power into planes of odd shape and push them out over the people he
addressed. When he spoke again, those planes echoed and amplified
his voice nicely without distortion within the garden. It was
different than what I would have used, but it worked.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for coming.
We do appreciate every aspect that has come into this operation,
not the least of which has been the timing. And timing will
continue to be crucial. I know you are all aware of what has
occurred over the last few weeks. We are at war against unknown
enemies and we have an opportunity to help remove one. But we are
few and we have been shown that even the greatest of us can be
hurt.” He paused for a moment, glancing sideways up at the house
where we all knew Felix lay.

“We are not here to fight a sustained battle;
we face MacNamara, a liege of Faery.” He added such fierce awe in
those seven words that even I started to be impressed. “Our one and
only job is to harass. Go in, get the job done, and get out. Don’t
be a hero, don’t get distracted, and do not stray. This is crucial
for two reasons. First, the two American councils are assisting
from their continent on the other side of the compound we are
attacking. And second, there are two others just like these two
already there.” He waved his hand at Peter and me, grinning.