The Wizard's Daughters: Twin Magic: Book 1 (22 page)

Giancarlo bowed slightly. “I must tender my regrets, your grace. My business here is done.”

Wilhelm frowned slightly. “Well, good luck to you, then.”

Giancarlo and his men marched out, and Wilhelm saw him favor Erich with a respectful nod of his head as he left. A spark of displeasure shot through him, but then Giancarlo was gone and it was too late to say anything.

Finally he turned to his brother and delivered the speech he had been preparing for years, ever since he had assumed his father’s title.

“For a decade, I have suffered as a result of your treachery,” he began slowly. “For ten years, I have struggled on these mechanical legs and endured the disparaging glances of those who think themselves my betters. Your despicable existence has gnawed at my soul since Father drove you out instead of killing you on the spot as he should have. The pain I have endured is beyond your imagination.”

“You were going to kill me, Wilhelm,” Erich said evenly. “Should I have killed you instead?”

“Silence!” he roared. “Gag him, so I do not need to listen to his disgusting retorts!”

The guards holding him found a strip of cloth and wrapped it around Erich’s jaw.

For ten minutes, Wilhelm raged at him, recounting a decade of slights real and imagined. He could see many of the servants and guards who watched this scene filling with dread as Wilhelm’s anger poured out, clearly fearing what horrors would accompany the end of this tirade. Finally, Wilhelm’s fury began to ebb. He brought the diatribe to an end and caught his breath.

“I am not going to kill you, my brother,” Wilhelm said. “Oh, no. I am going to teach you the meaning of suffering. As it took a decade for me to receive my satisfaction, you will wait a decade for yours.” He turned to the guards. “To the dungeon with all of them!”

♦ ♦

Erich was stripped to his smallclothes, chained, and thrown into a cell. He could hear the guards laughing as Ariel and Astrid were likewise jailed. He prayed the men would leave the girls alone, and for now—at least from the sound of it—they did so.

But he knew in his gut this fortunate state would not last. Wilhelm would vent his fury on them because of what it would do to Erich. He could only imagine the horrors he would certainly be made to watch.

He wondered if he should have let Giancarlo kill them, and then die himself, because they were clearly going to die anyway—except Wilhelm would make certain they did not die easily.

Erich wriggled around, trying to see if there was any weakness in his chains, but there was none. They were new and solid. This cell had likely been waiting for him a long time.

But wriggling around succeeded in slipping off his gag. He slid as close to the door as he could.

“Ariel? Astrid?” he said softly. “Can you hear me?”

There was a quiet whimper.

He knew the answer to this, but asked anyway. “Is there any way you can cast some sort of spell, despite your restraints?”

The whimper that came back more or less confirmed it.

“Try to see if you can get your gags off.”

But whatever Wilhelm’s guards had done, it seemed they were unable to do anything.

Erich sat by the door for a long time, talking softly to them, apologizing for having failed them.

“Just be brave,” he said finally. “Just know that whatever they do to your bodies, or mine, Wilhelm cannot destroy what we have.”

Quiet sobbing came down the hall for a long time.

♦ ♦

Time ran together in the dark. He heard low conversation, and the sounds of things being moved around. After some indeterminate period, Erich heard the door to the dungeon open. There was a clanking noise that he assumed was Wilhelm’s automaton legs, then some talking he could not make out.

The door to his cell opened. Two guards came in, unchained him from the wall, and dragged him to his feet. He was led out of the cell and down the hall into what was clearly a large torture chamber. The light was low, but he could see a table laid out with a large collection of blades, clamps, screws, and other implements. Wilhelm was sitting in a chair, watching. Two more guards appeared with clubs, and watched as the first two chained Erich to the wall at one end.

Then they brought out Ariel and Astrid, both still gagged. They had clearly been crying before, but were now stone-faced. They were chained together to a frame in the middle of the room. They glanced back and forth between him and Wilhelm.

“Well,” Wilhelm said. “So nice to have the family all together again.”

“What can I offer you to let them go?”

Wilhelm laughed. “You have nothing to offer me but your suffering, which will be made all the sweeter by beginning with them.”

“They are powerful mages. You take a risk by torturing them.”

Another laugh. “I have had mages who failed me tortured before, in this very room. They died like any other man. Do not try to bluff me. There is nothing you can say that will save them.”

Erich closed his eyes, trying to retain control of himself.

“Wilhelm, they have done nothing to offend you. Your quarrel is with me.”

“They have offended me by giving you pleasure!” Wilhelm thundered. “They have offended me by every moment they have been in your presence with your legs intact! And for that they will pay!”

He rose and stormed over to Ariel, tearing her dress apart, leaving her in only her shift. He tore Astrid’s dress off a moment later. He could see the girls fighting to avoid crying, though Astrid also seemed to be fighting to say something.

“You will watch every moment of this,” Wilhelm said to Erich. “Every time you close your eyes, I will cut a finger from one of them.”

“Remember what I said,” Erich called out to them. “None of this changes anything.”

Wilhelm laughed. “No more gags. I want you to hear them crying.” He jerked down Astrid’s gag, then prepared to tear off her shift.

“Wait!” she cried out.

Wilhelm laughed again. “What? You wish to beg for your honor? For mercy? To stay my hand against your husband? Well, then, go ahead and beg. I will listen.”

“No,” Astrid gasped. “It is not that. It’s that I think we can heal your legs.”

32.

There was silence in the torture chamber for long moments. Of all the things Wilhelm had expected to hear, it was not this.

“
What
?” he asked softly.

“We can heal you,” Astrid said again. “We are skilled at natural magic.”

Wilhelm scowled.

“Do you think I have done nothing these past ten years? Do you think it has not occurred to me to retain your ilk to repair my infirmity? The best mages I have found have not been able to do it. Why should I believe you could?”

“Who was it? Who tried to heal you?”

“Our court mage, and all of his underlings. He has served our family for forty years, and has skills far beyond yours. He was unable to do it.”

“What kind of mage is he?”

A measure of doubt crept into Wilhelm’s mind.

“A mage. I do not know. He built these legs. He is a master. Many have marveled over the workmanship.”

But the girl only gasped. “You mean he’s an
artificer
? No wonder he failed!”

“What are you talking about?”

“Artificing is only concerned with giving life to
dead
things, crystals and metal, not flesh. The disciplines are as opposed as they could be. My father is a master artificer, but he could not heal a broken wing on a sparrow!”

Wilhelm stood there, aghast.
Could it be?
He spun around toward the guards.

“Fetch the chief artificer at once!” he roared. Then he turned to the girl. “If you are deceiving me, you will pay in ways you cannot imagine.”

“I am telling the truth. I swear it.”

They waited in silence as two guards ran out to get his court mage. They returned in a few minutes.

“Your grace?” the man said. “What is the matter?”

Wilhelm regarded him with a steely glare.

“Is it true that your arts with automata are opposed to those of healing?”

The man quailed. “Your grace . . . I do not understand the question.”

“This girl here tells me she is skilled at, what was it?”

“Naturalism.”

“She tells me her discipline is opposed to yours, and that is why you were unable to heal my legs. Is this true?”

The old man shrunk before him, quivering. “Your grace . . . your wounds were grave. We did what we could . . . magic is unpredictable.”

“It is true?”
Wilhelm thundered.

“Your father was not a man to brook refusal,” the man whimpered. “Nor are you, your grace. He ordered me to heal you. What was I to do?”

Wilhelm stood there, reeling in shock, as the full truth of what had happened sank in. Then he exploded at the guards.

“Throw him in a cell! I will deal with him later!”

The guards dragged the quivering man of the room. Then Wilhelm turned back to the girl.

“You can heal my legs? You can repair the damage your husband inflicted on me so I can walk on my own?”

She stared back at him.

“I believe so. My sister and I. But I will only do it if you swear to let us go and give up this vendetta against your brother.”

Wilhelm was in an absolute torrent of emotion. He desperately wanted his revenge against Erich. It had consumed his thoughts for a decade.
But to walk again!

“I could cut your husband into pieces if you refuse me.”

“You were going to torture us anyway.” She straightened herself, glaring at him. “That is my offer. We will do nothing unless you agree to release us.”

The others in the room, the guards, the torturers, Erich, Ariel, and Astrid watched in silence as he warred with himself.

Finally he looked down at his ruined legs, and the metal abominations that encased them.

“If you can heal me . . . if I can walk again . . . I will let you go.”

“And you swear to leave my husband be?” she replied.

“I swear.”

“Swear it before God, on your soul.”

“I swear before Almighty God I want to walk again. If you can give that to me, I will give you what you want.”

“Let us go. We must be free to do this.”

Wilhelm turned to a guard. “If they do anything to harm me, kill him at once.”

The guard drew his sword and stood by his brother, who was watching all this in stunned disbelief. He directed the torturers to release the girls.

“Lie on this table,” one of them said. “You must remove your metal legs. They will interfere.”

Wilhelm swept the table clear of torture implements and sat down. He unbuckled his legs, praying he would never don them again. Then he lay down.

One girl stood on either side of him. They first joined hands, then rested them on his legs.

“Can you see?” one of them said after a few moments.

“The sinews and tendons. All cut.”

Wilhelm felt a painful tugging in his legs and gritted his teeth. Sparks of pain shot up and down his thighs. But at the same time, he could feel things moving, growing.

“The muscles are so weak,” one of them said.

“He has not used them.”

Quiet a moment.

“That one there. I am reattaching it.”

“And the one next to it.”

Another bolt of pain. His leg jerked with it. Then he gasped. His leg had
moved
.

“Now the other.”

More twinges down his thigh.

“There are several there.”

“Yes. All in a row.”

His left leg twitched. He realized in shock he could control his knee again, however weakly.

“Don’t move. We’re not done.”

“That last one.”

“I have it.”

A few more moments, a bit more pain.

“The muscles now.”

“I don’t know how much we can do.”

Wilhelm felt a wave of weakness wash over him, as if all the energy in his body was flowing downwards.

“A bit more?”

“Yes.”

Another wave. He felt faint.

“That’s all we can do, I think.”

They stepped back.

“We've repaired the damage,” the first one said. “But I am not sure you will be able to stand. Your muscles are so weak. We’ve done what we could, but it will take time to restore them to what they were.”

“You will be hungry,” her sister said. “You must eat as much as you can. Do not hold back, or the healing may unravel.”

Wilhelm sat up unevenly. His head swam. He realized he was ravenous. But first he needed to test his legs.

They answered him for the first time in a decade.

They were weak, so weak, and it hurt to move them. But he
could
move them. He sat there, stunned and disbelieving.

The girls were watching him, silent. He carefully swung one leg off the table, then the other. Gripping the table tightly, he tried putting some weight on them. They wobbled. But they held.

He could stand.

He could see he would not walk reliably yet, but he could feel in his bones he would be able to, in time. His legs worked again.

The guards and torturers gaped at him. Wilhelm looked over at the girls, dazed.

“You did it.”

“You must take care,” the first one said. “The healing will be fragile at first. Go slowly.”

He nodded. “I will.”

She looked at her sister, then Erich. “Now will you keep your promise and let us go?”

For a moment, Wilhelm reconsidered. His old anger with Erich was still hot. It flared anew at the thought of letting him go again after all this time.

But he had sworn an oath, before God and his men, and one did not break such things lightly. Unless he killed everyone present here, something he could not physically do, word would get out.

Hirelings worth having did not long serve an oathbreaker. And he still had the mage to vent his displeasure on. A mage he no longer much needed.

He took a deep breath and faced them.

“Your husband is not welcome in my lands. He has no rights or business here. But if you leave and never return, my quarrel with you is over.”

Part IV

33.