By Moonlight Wrought (Bt Moonlight Wrought) (56 page)

         Selric woke from his sleep, just as the
black, icy hands grabbed his throat.  He looked around, half-expecting to see
the Fiend.  But his conscious mind knew It was dead and he drifted peacefully
back to sleep.

         In the morning, he, Alanna, and Will made
their rounds up the tower.  In Alanna’s room, Brandon’s in reality, was Fiona. 
She had cured her shoulder cut herself, but the clavicle still needed several
weeks to mend, her skill not yet great enough to mend broken bones.  It had
been a day-and-a-half since the demise of the Fiend.

         “Good morning, Fiona,” Selric said,
bringing her morning meal on a tray.  “How are you?”  He kissed her on the
lips.

         “Just fine,” she said, smiling.  Selric
remained and fed her the food, giving her all the attention, playful or
otherwise, that she could stand.

         Will carried his tray into Melissa.  “Hi
Missy,” he said cheerfully.

         “Don’t call me that, you little twit.”

         “Okay, Mel.  Here’s your breakfast.”

         “You’re such a doll,” she said, grabbing
him and kissing his cheek when he drew close enough.  He simply smiled, too
happy that no one else had been taken away from him to complain about a little
kiss.  “Besides,” he thought, “it doesn’t feel all that bad anyway.”

         Dirk was the last to visit the injured,
but his charge did not live in the tower, but in the loft of the stable, by his
own preference.  “Morning, Bear,” he called lightly.

         “Good morning?  It’s about time.  I’m starving
to
death
!  Some barbarian’s woman you’d make.”  Dirk laughed.  “Go
ahead, laugh.  I don’t believe she’s hurt.  I bet Melissa just doesn’t like
me.  I don’t like you taking her place either.  You’re not half as pretty, you
little wench,” he said, smacking Dirk in the thigh.  I have to sit here and
listen to Aldren’s stories about horses and cattle.”

         “It isn’t all that bad,” Aldren told Dirk
with a sly wink.

         “I’ll have to do, gentlemen,” Dirk said. 
“I won’t let Tallow serve you.  You’d try to have her in bed in two minutes,”
he said to Bear.

         “Ha,” Bear objected.  “I’d
have
her there in one.  She would not be able to resist my northman charms.  And
after looking at your skinny bones all day, she’s ready for a real man.”  He
jiggled his belly.

         “And that real man would deny her,…me,”
Aldren said and Bear growled at him.

         “Shut up and heal,” Dirk laughed.  “I’m
tired of taking care of those mangy dogs.  They like me better now anyway.  I
think maybe they might chew your leg off if you ever come back.”

         “Will they now?  I bet...Hey!  Where’s my
beer?  I can’t heal without beer,” he said, noticing then that there was no
large mug of the beverage in sight.  “Fetch my mug, woman, and fill it.”  Dirk
laughed and did as requested.

         “You are a pain in the ass, Bear
Fellaxe.  You cry like a woman,” Aldren said as Dirk walked out of earshot.

         “And you, you little vagabond, you stay
quiet like a good hound,” Bear replied.

         When Selric and Dirk carried Melissa into
the hearth room, she could see there was a party atmosphere as they set her in
a chair before the fire.  Everyone was there:  Aldren, Bear, Mendric, Dirk,
Selric, Alanna, Will, Fiona, and that red-headed girl:  everyone but Cinder,
Relarius, Marlo, and Donagee.

         Melissa had taken the loss of her three
house mates roughly, still weak from Cinder’s death, though she kept it
concealed.  With the Fiend gone, Melissa was now the only one who knew how
Cinder had died:  scared, alone and begging.  She tried to tell herself that
maybe the Fiend was lying, but she saw Its cruelty and she knew that basically,
the story was true.  And she knew Cinder’s last thoughts.  That was the biggest
indicator that It had not lied.  She could not bear to tell her friends, so she
left them ignorant.  They had begun their recovery.  Melissa was just beginning
to feel the pain and the loss, and had to go through it alone, secretly, to
spare the others the anguish of dealing with it all over again:  of dealing
with the harsh truth of Cinder’s last moments.

         So, she hid her pain as best she could
and they all believed her withdrawal was the result of her time as captive of
the Fiend.  None of them had asked her what happened or what It had done.  And
she did not volunteer the information.  But there, in that room, with all her
friends, Melissa cheered a bit.  The Fiend was gone, she had narrowly escaped a
horrible and painful death, she had avenged Cinder, and most of her close
friends were alive, and they cared deeply for her.  Even the thought of Dirk
and that girl, Tallow, getting closer every day did not bother her at all. 
Life itself was too big a thrill.  A great burden was off her shoulders and she
could go on.  She reclined deeply into the massive chair and closed her eyes,
listening to her friends all around her.

         Melissa did not know how long she had
been dozing, it seemed only minutes, when she was startled by a closing door. 
All conversation in the room stopped as everyone gazed at the new arrival.  The
Stormweathers knew him; it was Faldir, the Head Constable of Andrelia.

         “Excuse me, Masters Stormweather,” he
said, bowing graciously.  “I’m sorry to interrupt.  Perhaps I could have a few
minutes of your time, in private if you could be so kind.”  Selric and Mendric,
who was by now completely recovered from the poison and limping only slightly,
walked over to him.

         “In the foyer, please,” Mendric said,
motioning to the door.  They went out and closed the huge portal behind them.

         “Firstly,” Faldir said, now less formal
and more relaxed, “I wish to thank you personally.  My life and my job have
been spared.  If there is anything I can ever do, personally, or secretly with
my position,” he said looking cautiously around, “I will do it.  You are
honorable men beyond reproach and I know you will not abuse such a debt.  The
legend of your line is true.  I also wish to thank you for the people of the
entire city.  Well done, gentlemen.”

         “Alistair Duncan,” Mendric said without
hesitation.

         “Already done,” Faldir answered with a
sly grin, knowing what the nobleman would ask for first.  “Yesterday, after I
received your message, I had him released.  He is now recovering in the House
of Healing within the palace.  I will answer to His Majesty for it, but that I
will gladly do.”  Faldir looked at them with his brows raised.  “Anything else
at the present?” he asked smiling.

          The Stormweathers looked at each other
and neither could think of anything, not wishing to trivialize his
indebtedness. “Good then.  Now for the unpleasantness of office.”  He took a
deep breath.  “I attended His Majesty’s council meeting this morning and
informed him of all that has transpired.”  He sighed again.  “There will be no
reward, no recognition, no admittance of any blame.  The Fiend, in effect,
never existed.  It never was.  Olaf Svenson murdered two women...”

         “Two!” Selric blurted in abstract
disbelief.

         “...and one girl, and was murdered in the
sewage plant by thugs,” Faldir continued as if heckled during a speech.

         “I didn’t know Alanna was there,” Mendric
joked about the thugs, not surprised at the King’s ludicrous behavior.  Selric
smiled weakly at his brother.

         “The attack on the house of your friends,
was caused by a band of five werewolves of which two were killed by the Watch. 
The other three escaped.  The citizens will never know the latest feat the
Stormweathers have done for them, though all on the council do, and many may be
favorably inclined to you and your compatriots in the future,” he said with a
knowing nod.

         “Well, I guess that’s that,” Selric said.

         “Truly,” Faldir added.  “Also,” he said
sighing, seeming embarrassed, “I need the writ returned, and of course you may
not speak of this again.  The Fiend never existed, so you could not have killed
him or It, etc., etc.”

         “Perhaps you’d like to tell our friends?”
Mendric asked.

         “That’s not fair, Mendric.  This isn’t my
doing.  You know that.”

         “Well then, come and meet them, anyway,”
Mendric said.

         “That, I will.  Shall we?” he asked,
starting for the door; Mendric opened it for him.

         Faldir walked in, paused, and cleared his
throat.  “Excuse me.  I’m Faldir, Head Constable of the City Watch.  Though I
may get into trouble if it is known that I spoke so candidly to you on a
subject that is now officially “secret,” I am indebted to you for your
assistance and I wanted to meet those who did great service for their king and
city, as well as for their fellow citizens.  However, the King, in his finite
wisdom, has decreed that the Fiend never existed.  It is now treason to speak
of Its existence.”  Murmuring arose from those gathered there.

         “What!” Bear bellowed, trying to rise
from his place on the couch.  “Look at me.  Who did this?  Pixies?” 

         Selric looked winsomely at Faldir and
said, “He’ll be the toughest to convince, but the others should be no problem.”

         Faldir nodded then said, “Please,” speaking
to all, but looking at Bear.  “I realize, I truly do, your heroics and your
trials, but it is the King’s will, not my own.  I can only warn you for your
own safety.  Someday, maybe, your actions may be rewarded.”  He turned to
Selric.  “Now may I be introduced?”  Selric led him about the room, introducing
him to everyone there and telling a bit about them and their hand in stopping
the Fiend.                            

         “And this is Melissa,” Selric said, going
lastly to her.  “She killed the Fiend.  She is the best archer I have ever
seen.  And she did it with a bow given her by Ponjess for her part in capturing
the Temple Thief.”

         “That’s right.  I’d almost forgotten that
you all did that as well.  Melissa,” he said bending near her, “a job well
done.”  Melissa smiled slightly, but looked away and refused to acknowledge him
afterward.  “Well, anyway,” Faldir continued, “how did you find the Fiend on
that fateful night?”

         Dirk and Selric looked at each other. 
Dirk remembered the stranger talking about his desire to overthrow the king. 
“I was informed by...” he hesitated.

         “By a contact I had in the docks,” Selric
interrupted, having been told by Dirk of his secret friend, and hoping to
protect him until more could be discovered of this strange man and his plans.

         “You had a contact in the docks?” Faldir
asked.  “I heard that you moved in strange circles, but the docks?”

         “Actually, I met Alanna there,” Selric
said, calling her over.  She took his arm.

         “Ahhh,” Faldir said in understanding.  “I
should travel the docks more often.”  He turned to them all, but his eyes fell
on Melissa.  “Again, I thank you all deeply.”  He smiled broadly.  “Of course,
this conversation never took place,” to which most of them laughed.  “Farewell,
all.”  He turned and shook the hands of the Stormweathers.  “If you need
anything, let me know.  And stay in touch.”  Selric walked to the mantle and
retrieved the writ, which he handed the lawman.  Faldir laughed. “You put this
to some unique uses,” he said.  “And the tent...”  He laughed as he walked out,
shaking the writ in his hand.  His laughter died away as he shut the door.

         Everyone sat silent for a moment then
Melissa spoke.  “I’d like to go back to bed,” she said, her memories becoming
painfully strong.

         “I’ll take her,” Dirk said eagerly, running
over.  He gently picked her up, being careful of her knee, and carried Melissa
to her room and placed her gently into bed.  He covered her up and turned to
leave.

         “Don’t go,” she said.  “Not yet.”  She
seemed troubled.  “Dirk?”  she asked hesitantly, “could there be another
Fiend?  A helper or something?”  Dirk sat by her and took her hand.

         “I don’t think so.  We would have seen
some clues.”

         “But...” she said then paused.

         “What, Missy?  What happened?  Did you
see one?  Tell me.”

         “When I was there...”

         “Where?”

         “
There
,” she said, “chained up.  I
heard two voices outside the door.”  Dirk sat up, a worried look on his face. 
“I mean, he wasn’t as wicked, but he let It live.”

         “It?  Olaf Svenson?” Dirk asked.

         “It was an It, Dirk.  Maybe It looked
like Svenson, but It could not have been human,” she said, growing upset and
her voice cracking.

         “What did they say?” Dirk asked, thinking
she was becoming hysterical, and wanting to know what she had heard, not her
strain-induced conjectures.

         “Well,” Melissa began, calming herself,
“that they had the same goals.  The other voice knew Cinder, and he told the
Fiend not to kill us and to leave us alone.  It sounded like he liked us.” 
Dirk put his hand gently over Melissa’s mouth and calmed her.