The Silent Tempest (Book 2) (24 page)

Death seemed to be the only escape
available. He thought of the weapon he had given Brigid, and then he thought
of the collar around his neck, the symbol of his slavery.

He wanted freedom, he wanted death, and he
knew of one way that was guaranteed to provide one or the other.
They said
I could have it removed.
He knew where to cut it now, or he thought he
did. If he was wrong, he wouldn’t live long enough to regret his mistake.

Both of his index fingers were tattooed,
and a word brought the magic to life, razor sharp enchanted blades appearing
around them. He rarely used the finger blades, but he wanted precision.
There
are two places that must be severed simultaneously, or the collar’s destruction
will kill me,
he thought silently. One region of the spellweave was
responsible for the boiling of the blood, the other would stop the heart, and
both needed to be cut at the same time.

Unless there’s a third trap in
the spellweave,
he reminded himself. He had
intended to test that theory before ever trying it on himself, but he no longer
cared. If he was wrong it would be as much a blessing as a mistake.

Lifting his hands to his neck, he
positioned the two blades carefully with his magesight before letting out a
slow breath, and then he cut the spellweave.

The collar fell apart, disintegrating as
the minuscule She’Har symbols unraveled. Tyrion continued to breathe. “Damnitt.”
He had hoped he was wrong.

He slept for a time after that, lulled by
the peaceful sound of the wind through the trees. After he woke he just lay
there, letting his mind remain blank. He could almost imagine the terrible
events of the morning hadn’t happened.

But they had.

His face tensed, his eyes clenching as he
tried to shut out the memory of Haley’s face as she slew her half-brother.
Restless now, he stood and began to descend the tree, keeping his body in
motion to help prevent his mind from returning to that awful moment.

From there he made his way back to
Albamarl, his magesight scanning the terrain ahead of him. Any number of
She’Har made note of him as he passed quietly through the trees, but none
approached him. They could see he wore no collar, but that rule no longer
applied to him. Just a few weeks before it would have been a death sentence
for him to walk uncollared through one of the She’Har groves.

When he drew closer to his home he took
note of the children. They were gathered in small groups, talking in quiet
whispers, seeking comfort in each other’s company, but neither Kate nor Layla
were in evidence.

That meant they were alone inside the
house, which was designed to block magesight.

It’s been several hours,
they’ve calmed down now, but Kate’s just witnessed a number of violent events.
He knew exactly what such events did to people, once the adrenaline
wore off. He had thought he was beyond jealousy, but the thought of the two of
them together made him angry.

He ignored the teens and went through the
front door, closing it loudly behind him. The noise would surely alert them to
his return. Even inside he couldn’t sense them, which meant they were in the
second bedroom. It had been finished over the course of the past week, and the
two women had taken to sleeping there.

Tyrion stopped in the hall, wondering if
they would come out. He had intended to go to his own room, but now he found
himself irritated and indecisive. A strange longing filled him, but he wasn’t
sure what he wanted. He was alone. He was angry.

No one emerged from the other room.
Obviously they were too busy to care or take note of his return. He knocked on
the door. He could hear them scrambling within, startled by the sound.

Kate opened the door a moment later,
leaning out, cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “I didn’t realize you were
back,” she said.

Their eyes met, and he couldn’t remember
what he had meant to say. It seemed as if he was staring at her across an
impossible gulf, a distance that could never be crossed. Kate might as well be
back in Colne. He stood still, transfixed.

She watched his features, her gaze moving
from one eye to the other. Kate could see that he was in turmoil.
No, he’s
worse than that.
She wondered if he was about to break down. Her heart
leapt into her throat. She wanted to talk to him, to help him. Giving in to
Layla’s desires had been a mistake, borne of her own fear and desperate need
for companionship. She should have waited.

Layla was waiting, she could feel the
other woman’s impatience. “Listen, Daniel, this isn’t a good time. If you
want to talk later…”

His face flinched, and his eyes hardened,
“I don’t want to talk.”

Kate looked down, “I’m sorry. I know this
is awkward. What happened today…”

“I came to fetch Layla,” he interrupted.
“I need her help with something.”

She looked up at him, her green eyes
filled with surprise, “But…”

Kate paused then, for Layla’s hand was on
her shoulder. She looked over the redhead’s shoulder with an impish grin. She
had no embarrassment over what she had been doing. “What do you need, my
lord?”

“I need a little of your time,” he
replied, his face expressionless.

Her attention fell to his throat, and the
warden’s eyes widened, “What happened to your collar?”

“That’s what I’d like to discuss with
you.”

Serious now, she looked back into the
room, “Let me get my clothes.” Being a warden, she almost never went out
without wearing the symbols of her status, unlike nearly everyone else in the
small camp who were required to be without clothes.

“You won’t need them,” he informed her.
“Come with me.”

Her face took on a sly expression,
“Certainly.”

He walked her across the hall and ushered
her into his room, leaving Kate staring after him with a curious countenance.
She was still trying to figure out what had just happened.

Closing the door behind himself, he
muttered a word to seal the room, but he didn’t bother to soundproof it.

“Did they remove your collar?” asked Layla
immediately.

“No, I took it off myself,” he told her,
letting his eyes range down her body. Layla was tall and muscular, covered in
scars, but lovely despite it. He could see why Garlin had favored her for so
long.

She followed his eyes, sensing the change
in his intentions from the day before. “What did you wish from me,
my lord?
”
Her head was tilted slightly down, allowing her to look up at him as she spoke
in a slow voice. She put special emphasis on the honorific.

“I think you’re well aware of that
already,” he said as he removed his leather jerkin, dumping it on the floor
before piling his shirt on top of it. He wasted no time unbuckling his belt.
It had been months, and now that he had resolved himself, he found his desire
driving him.

Layla stepped close, kissing his neck and
moving her lips upward to whisper in his ear, “What would you like me to do
first?”

A grin spread across his face as he
realized he was no longer bound by the traditional restrictions of the slave
collar. In Ellentrea, sexual participants of opposite genders had to be
careful, making certain to never bring the agencies of reproduction into direct
contact. Experience and frequent practice had made them experts at alternate
methods of pleasing themselves, but that was no longer necessary here.

Pushing her slightly away, he held her
throat between his hands. With a word he activated the enchanted blades in his
index fingers, “Hold very still.”

Layla’s eyes were wide with panic now,
though she held perfectly still, “What are you doing?!”

With a moment’s concentration he found the
correct spots, and then his fingers dipped inward, slashing the spellwoven
collar apart. The female warden yelped slightly, but then looked at him with
astonishment when she failed to die. After she finally relaxed and caught her
breath, she looked at him, “Was that alright to do? I am not allowed to go
without a collar.”

“You’ll stay inside until Lyralliantha
returns to give you a new one,” he told her. He took the opportunity to sit
down on the edge of the bed, removing his trousers.

Layla approached hesitantly, almost shyly.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I feel naked—without the collar,” she
told him.

She meant it in a different way, though.
She was referring to the lack of imposed restrictions. She was uncertain now
how to proceed. The only times she had had normal intercourse were the two
times she had been bred, and neither had been pleasant.

Tyrion chuckled, “Are you nervous, Layla?
How unusual. There’s nothing to be afraid of. Let me show you.” Reaching up,
he drew her down onto the bed with him, and then he let his hands roam while
his lips met hers. “I see Kate’s already warmed you up.”

She nodded, moaning as they kissed.

“That’s good. I didn’t think I could
restrain myself for long.”

The first time was brief, and she screamed
in fear as he began, a lifetime of conditioning was hard to ignore, but after
that she relaxed. The second time was much more prolonged. He took his time,
making sure to bring her to a loud and raucous conclusion.

He hoped Kate was paying attention.

The next morning things returned to
normal. He felt better, more relaxed than he had since bringing his children
back from Colne. Layla had slept beside him, but he had discovered that once
the more active part of their evening was over she had had no interest in
cuddling. In fact, she seemed positively repulsed by the thought.

He had forced the issue at first, she was
his slave after all, but after several minutes of holding a tense and obviously
uncomfortable woman, he had relented. Spooning with someone who clearly didn’t
want the attention felt like more of a violation than almost anything he had
done in the past.

Layla was more than happy to repeat their
performance that morning, eager in fact. She had no trouble with physical
contact during sex, it was touching outside of that that bothered her.

Tyrion was strangely reluctant, though.

“What’s the matter?” asked Layla,
encouraging him in a rather direct fashion. “You obviously want to.” She
squeezed him once more.

“I need to get them started early,” he
told her. “In another week they have to fight again.”

She stroked him again, using a lighter
touch. “It can wait a few minutes. Would you change your mind if I asked Kate
for permission?”

“What?!”

“Do you think I don’t know exactly why you
came to our room yesterday?” she replied. “You wanted your redhead, but for
some reason you couldn’t make yourself order her in here.”

“That’s ridiculous, she and I have never…”
he paused before changing tactics. “If you thought that, why didn’t you say
something last night?”

“I do as I am told,” she said, smiling
slyly, “and besides, I was horny. It was clear you weren’t going to allow us
to continue on our own.”

“I was irritated.”

Layla laughed, “I’m sure she is very
irritated too.”

Tyrion sighed.

“You should have her come in here and take
care of this, if you don’t want my help,” said Layla, sitting up.

“As you indicated, I think she’s a bit too
angry for that.”

“So?” Layla raised one brow. “You are
the master here. We live at your whim. Summon her, beat her if she is
impudent. All of your problems stem from your strange reluctance to impose
your will upon her.”

He shook his head, “You don’t understand.
Kate is my friend. I have adapted to life here, but I could never do that to
her.”

“Your friend?” she scoffed. “I have seen
no sign of that. You just said that you and she had never exchanged favors.
Take her,
make
her your friend. It is entirely up to you.”

“No,” he told her. “I don’t mean friend
in the sense you do.” He struggled to find the words for a moment. “I guess
you would say that we have been
fools
together, since we were much
younger.”

“Oh,” said Layla, staring at him
thoughtfully for a moment. “As you were with Garlin?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “Similar to that.
There’s never been any of
this
between us.” He made a wide gesture encompassing
Layla and the bed.

“You are an odd one, Tyrion,” said the
warden. “Just like she is. I have never seen two people so strange. I have
watched you both, spying on each other constantly. She is just as obsessed as
you are. I don’t understand why you had sex with those other women and not
her. Did they force you?”

“No,” he corrected, “I forced them.”

“But not her?”

“I could never hurt Kate,” he replied.
I
love her.

“Perhaps you only like the ones who reject
you.”

He had no good response to that.

***

He and Kate remained in an uncomfortable
silence the rest of the week. Tyrion resumed training his children, and three
more of them awakened their latent abilities as the days passed, Ashely Morris,
Ian Collins, and Violet Price. Thus far he had nine being trained while three
still remained ‘normal’ without any obvious sign of magical talent, Anthony,
Piper and Blake.

He wasn’t sure if he hoped they would
remain that way, or whether he would prefer for them to manifest the same
power. The world of the She’Har was cruel, and it was far crueler to the weak.

But he could protect them.

If they remained powerless they wouldn’t
be forced to fight, and while in the slave camps the fate of the nameless was
wretched, that didn’t mean it had to be the case here. This was a new place,
the beginning of a new city, one that would house the slaves of the Illeniel
Grove.

They might be slaves in the
eyes of the She’Har, but if I am in charge here, I can make their lives better.

He thought about those things constantly
as he trained them. He was particularly harsh with the three who had yet to be
blooded. They were sometimes punished with the red whip, while he refrained
from using it on the others. He only needed to nourish the hate in those who
had yet to learn to kill.

That was what he told himself anyway.

He spent the most time with Brigid. She
would be his weapon, his salvation, and someday, very likely, his executioner.
Her eyes burned when they were upon him. He no longer needed to punish her, that
was clear. She hated him with a passion that rivaled his own hatred for the
She’Har.

But she needed more. The black haired
girl had to do more than slay a stranger, more than kill an acquaintance, she
had to destroy her best friend. Her experience was inadequate, and her resolve
was nowhere near what it would need to be to do that.

“Again,” he told her. “Don’t hold back.”

Brigid showed her teeth, “Don’t tempt me.”

“That is precisely what I intend to do,”
he replied. “I want you to fight with everything you have. Try to kill me.”

Her eyes lit with sudden inspiration.
“Really, what if I succeed?”

“Then I will have made you into the
deadliest mage in the world,” he responded, “and you will have to spar with
Layla for the rest of the week.”

“She’s too weak,” observed the girl.

“You would have to be more careful
with...,” he was sent flying as a surprise attack struck his shield with
unexpected ferocity.

She had distracted him, and when she had
made her move, she had gathered her aythar so quickly that he hadn’t had time
to respond.
She’s fast,
he thought as his body hurtled into a pile of
quarried stone for the building project. His shield almost broke from the
second impact, and the sudden stop had rattled his brain.

Another attack before he had recovered his
composure might do the trick, and if he wound up stunned from feedback, the
girl really would kill him. He started to roll and summoned an aythar filled
mist, obscuring both normal vision and magesight. Then he stopped.

She will be expecting me to
keep moving.
He considered activating his
tattoos, to create a shield she couldn’t break, but the thrill of danger
excited him. Brigid was strong, she was fast, she was a real threat. He
wanted to beat her on even terms.

Or perhaps he truly did want to die; even
he wasn’t certain which was the truth.

The mist swirled as her will moved through
it, her aythar reaching for something. Then the stone blocks began to fly,
tearing through the mist with incredible velocity. There were too many to be
dodged, that was the point. Several of them hit his shield, and he was sent
tumbling once more.

Lying flat on the ground to minimize his
chance of being struck again, he renewed his mist, and then he opened the
ground beneath him, letting himself sink several feet before closing it over
his head. He had barely gotten beneath the surface when he felt her aythar
moving outward along the top of the ground forming a faint latticework.

He smiled inwardly, she was using his old
trick, creating a thin pattern of aythar across the ground to detect an
opponent she couldn’t see or sense directly. He had been about to do the same,
to track her position, but he held back. If he were to do so now she would
find him.

Instead he turned his power inward, using
it to heighten his hearing and slow his heart rate. He had taken a deep breath
before the soil covered his head, but he would only be able to hold it for a limited
amount of time. He intended to make the most of it.
She won’t stand still,
I just need to wait until she’s close enough.

He waited, listening to the slow beat of
his heart and straining his ears for the sound of her steps. For a time there
was nothing, and his lungs began to burn. He had been under for a few minutes
already, and without air he would have to emerge soon. Doing so before he
found her would be bad. She would know his location the instant he disturbed
the surface, and she would be ready to attack as he made his way up and out.

Then he heard, or rather felt, her faint
tread.
Which way?
In the darkness it was hard to be sure. Another
step and he had the direction. She was approaching from his rear, but she was
too far for him to ambush her as he had hoped. Trying to guess the distance
from the sound of her footfalls was too hard. She might be ten feet or even
thirty. That sort of accuracy was inadequate for a surprise attack.

An idea came to him then. Sending his
aythar out through the earth, he punched a large hole in her lattice some
twenty yards away in the direction he had heard her steps. He was guessing
that that would be far enough to draw her attention in the other direction,
away from his current position.

A split second after that, he exploded
upward, using his magic to thrust himself skyward. A massive surge of aythar
accompanied her attack on the location of his distraction. It also gave away
her precise location as his thinning mist parted. He struck, quick as a viper,
sending a focused pulse of power at the place she was standing, facing away
from him now.

Adrenaline and excitement made his attack
stronger than it needed to be. It was strong enough to break her shield, and
it retained enough power to strike the back of her head with dangerous force.
Brigid fell, her body completely limp.

He had won.

No! What have I done?
In a panic he ran to the unconscious girl. Blood was trickling
from her right ear. “No!” he yelled, unable to contain himself.

Some of the others had been watching their
fight from a distance. As the mist cleared they saw him, and a cry of alarm
went up among them. Abby ran toward him, while Ian and Violet ran to the house
to find Kate and Layla. David and Emma remained where they were, watching in
shock.

“What happened?” asked Abby, near panic
herself.

“I went too far,” he said, never taking
his eyes off the dark haired child in his arms. Unbidden tears sprang from his
eyes as he cradled her. His magesight was exploring, but his emotions made it
difficult to concentrate.

Brigid’s eyes were wide, unfocused. The
pupils were huge despite the bright sun beating down on the two of them. Her
heart still beat, but it was weak, unsteady. It skipped a beat as he watched.
Seconds later it skipped again, and then it stopped.

“Is she breathing?” asked Kate urgently.
She had just arrived and was kneeling beside them.

“What have I done?” he moaned, a keening
note rising from the back of his throat. “Please no, no…” Then he felt her
heart beat again, resuming its uncertain pace.

Looking up, he saw Layla standing nearby,
a troubled look on her face. Kate had her hand under Brigid’s nose, feeling
for air.

“She’s still breathing, Daniel,” said
Kate. “Can you tell where she’s hurt?”

“It’s her head,” he said, his voice
thick. “I did this. I did this.” His body began to rock as his emotions
swept reason from him.

Kate stared at him, worried. She had
never seen Daniel like this. Once, when his dog Blue had been killed, he had
been close, but he was beyond that now. He was distraught, as though he might
dissolve into uncontrollable tears.

“Daniel, listen to me,” she said, putting
more calm into her voice than she felt. “She’s still alive. I know you can
heal some things, but not if you lose control of yourself. You have to focus.
Take a deep breath. Is there anything you can do?”

His vision was blurred beyond hope of
seeing, but his eyes were useless for this anyway. He nodded, squeezing them
shut. He let out a shuddering breath and then took a fresh one, filling his
lungs completely.
Calm,
he thought.

Slowly he sent his awareness outward,
refining his magesight to bring Brigid’s body into sharp resolution. Her heart
was still beating, it skipped now and then, but there was nothing wrong with
it. Searching her skull, he found it was still intact, the bones were sound,
but something wasn’t right. The blood came from a ruptured artery on one side,
but the blood leaking from her ear was the least of it. Farther in another
artery was bleeding into the space between her brain and her skull. The blood
was expanding, putting pressure on everything within her cranium.