The Silent Tempest (Book 2) (38 page)

“It’s the same thing you used when we
first came to this place isn’t it? When you made the storm...”

“They know about me now, but I don’t want
them to know about
you
,” he told her. “Do the others know yet?”

“Just Ryan. He saw it when we spoke mind
to mind,” she replied. “I shouldn’t have used it in the fight, should I?”

Tyrion shrugged, “What’s done is done. It
was such a subtle thing, I don’t think anyone else noticed your unusual
method.”

“Layla said you went berserk after the
fight was over…”

He winced, “I was foolish. I let my
emotions overrule my sense, and the wind—well, you must have some idea what
it’s like.”

“How did you stop?” asked Emma.

“Lyralliantha pulled me back to my senses,
which reminds me, I want you to stay close to Ryan,” he said, putting a tone of
authority in his voice.

Emma nodded. “You think he could do the
same if something like that happened to me?”

“He’s the only one who knows. Talk to him
and make sure he understands what might happen.”

“I will,” she said, dipping her head
obediently. “Why were you so angry?”

“I have a temper,” he told her. “You may
have noticed.”

“But you were upset because we were hurt,
weren’t you?”

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m
tender hearted, Emma,” he warned her. “Even evil men can love their children.”

“I know,” she agreed. “But I also feel
some of the same things. When I was lying there, watching those beasts tearing
at Ryan, my heart was filled with a black despair. Despite your best efforts
before, I think that was when I truly learned to hate. You aren’t alone,
Father.”

“Alone?”

“I hate them too,” she responded. “We all
do, to some degree.” Emma rose from her chair and crossed over to him.
Carefully she put her arms around him.

Tyrion stiffened, but didn’t return the
embrace. “I don’t deserve this, Daughter. Someday you may wind up dead,
another tool broken to feed my desire for vengeance.”

“Hug me,” she insisted.

Relenting at last, he put his arms around
her, though he still felt like a fraud.

“
Our
vengeance, Father,” she
corrected. “If it comes to that, I will not feel cheated. Spend my life
wisely, and I will thank you with my dying breath.”

He pushed her away, unable to stand the
guilt her words were building in his heart. “That sounds like something Brigid
would say.”

Emma agreed, “If she had the tongue for
it, she probably would. You will have to watch her carefully. She would throw
her life away for just the smallest taste of revenge.”

“She reminds me of myself.”

Emma shook her head, “No, she’s even more
reckless. If you ever get your chance at revenge, and you have to spend our
lives to achieve it, save her until last.”

Tyrion frowned. He didn’t like the turn
their conversation was taking, but he couldn’t deny the truth of it. “Why?”

“Because she hates them more than all of
us. If anyone should see the end of them, it should be her.”

“No more—I swear, you’re trying to kill
me,” protested Tyrion.

“It has been months,” said Lyralliantha.
“I missed you.”

The second sentence was something new.
Since her return she had been using more language of the same sort, replete
with ‘want’, ‘love’, and ‘miss’. Even her attempts at humor had improved.
Tyrion had begun to wonder if her past reticence regarding emotional language
had been due mainly to her alien nature, or whether it was simply because he
had been a poor mentor.

Kate had been a far more able teacher than
he had.

The smell of something frying permeated
the air, making his stomach try to perform gymnastics. It wanted to get out
there, where the meat was, but Lyralliantha’s hand was on his arm, pulling him
back toward her. “Stay a few minutes more,” she told him. “Breakfast isn’t
ready yet, and I promise I will let you rest.”

With a sigh, he collapsed back into the
bed, “Whatever she is cooking smells really good.”

“You like food as much as sex,” announced
Lyralliantha in a serious tone, as though she were making a new observation.
It might have been a joke if Kate had said it, but on second examination, he
wasn’t entirely sure which it was with Lyralliantha.

“Now that we have new cookware and fresh
meat, Kate’s been able to work miracles,” he answered.

“If her secrets were revealed to my people,
it would be disaster,” announced Lyralliantha.

“Why?” he asked.

“They would stop eating the calmuth, and
everyone would begin taking root,” she said with a crooked grin.

Another joke,
he realized, chuckling politely.

Changing subjects he spoke to the ceiling,
“I missed you too.”

“Good,” she replied, a tone of
satisfaction in her voice. “I will be forced to leave you again soon.”

“What?”

“The loshti will be ready in another
month.”

“So, just wolf it down and come right
back,” he replied flippantly.

She patted his cheek, “It is not as simple
as that.”

“What will happen then?” he asked before
adding, “Wait, no, tell me where this magical fruit is first. I have seen no
sign of it.”

“Why do you wish to know?” she asked.

“Just curious.”

“It grows in my bower,” she replied.

“Really?” he exclaimed. “I went there
often while you were away, and I never saw it.”

“It looks much like the calmuth, but this
one hangs directly above my sleeping place. Its color is darker than the
ordinary calmuth, but I am not surprised you did not notice it,” she told him.

Her frank openness about such an important
item to the Illeniel Grove surprised him. “No one guards it?”

“The other groves guard theirs, but the
Illeniel need no guards. It is impossible to steal from us.”

“Why?”

Lyralliantha closed her lips, she had said
too much.

“You can’t tell an outsider?”

“I cannot tell
you
,” she answered.

Now he was offended, “That’s awfully
specific.”

“Things are complicated where you are
concerned, Tyrion,” she said. “You are not an outsider, you are my kianthi,
but the elders have made special provisions for you.”

“They don’t trust me.”

“No,” she said emphatically. “They trust
you completely. The Illeniel will never oppose you. You need not fear them.”

“They trust me, but they won’t tell me
why. They won’t hurt me, but they won’t share their secrets either. None of
this makes sense,” he complained.

“Rather than fret about what we cannot
change, we should enjoy what we have,” she told him.

Tyrion growled in frustration, but after a
moment he pushed his irritation aside. “So, what will happen when you eat the
fruit? How long will you be gone?”

“I will be away for a year at least,” she
admitted.

“At least?” he exclaimed. “How badly is
this thing going to scramble your brains?”

“I should recover from the effects of the
loshti within a few days. The rest of the year is merely a formality, a
waiting period,” she explained.

“Waiting for what?”

“To see if I’ve become unstable. The
onslaught of so much knowledge unbalances some. The year is a period of
observation, to determine if I am safe to return to the grove.”

“You said, ‘a year at least’, how long
does it take if you are deemed unbalanced?”

“I will be destroyed if I am found to be
damaged,” she admitted. “The dangers of an insane lore-warden are too great to
be chanced.”

“Just refuse it,” he told her. “I’d
rather not risk you.”

Lyralliantha smiled, “Do not be afraid my
love, for the Illeniel Grove, this is just a formality. None chosen by the
Illeniel elders ever fail.”

“But they do in other groves?”

She nodded.

“What makes the Illeniels so much better
at it then?”

Lyralliantha looked down, “Let us talk of
something else.”

“More of that ‘don’t tell Tyrion our
secrets’ crap, right?” he replied sourly. When she didn’t answer after a moment
or two of waiting, he let out a long sigh. “Fine, you mentioned breakfast, and
that reminded me of something.”

Her eyes looked the question at him.

“I saw Koralltis use something he called a
‘stasis-weave’ on one of my children after an arena battle, but I didn’t have
long to examine it. Can you create one for me?”

She gave him a suspicious look, “Why do
you need to see something like that?”

“I want to try and replicate it,” he said
honestly.

“For what purpose?”

He sighed once more, this time with
feigned exasperation, “You really don’t trust me do you?”

“Of course I do,” she replied with a hint
of anger, “but I would like to know your motives. The stasis-weave is complex
and experimenting with it could be dangerous.”

“You don’t think I can do it,” he
challenged.

She rose from the bed, her movements
betraying her irritation. “Why must everything be an insult to you? Breakfast
is ready, we should go enjoy Kate’s latest labors.”

His hand fell on her shoulder, “Show
me—please.”

“It would be unwise.”

“What if I promise to let you watch while
I try to reproduce it? I’m sure it will take some time, but I won’t work on it
if you aren’t with me,” he said, trying to placate her.

“You still haven’t told me your purpose.”

Letting his shoulders droop he made a show
of giving in, “If you promise you won’t tell Kate…”

“What has she to do with this?”

“I want to make a present for her. If she
had a box that could preserve meat and other things, it would be a great help
for her,” he answered. He kept his mind purely on that thought. That was his
only motive. There was nothing else.

Lyralliantha’s stance softened, “Would it
mean so much to her?”

He nodded.

“Very well,” she said, acquiescing. “I
will create a small one, but you must only study it. Do not attempt anything
unless I am with you.”

Tyrion smiled, “Of course.”

***

Another week passed, but unlike those in
the past, the present week, and those in the future, promised many positive
changes. The buildings around Albamarl were growing as Ryan’s plan for
expansion slowly unfolded. Tyrion’s home itself would soon begin expanding
once they were free to turn their attention and efforts to it.

The latest arrival of goods from Colne had
included wool and some linen from Lincoln. Fiona and Dalton Brown had come
along with the shipment, bringing not only the cloth, but needles and thread as
well. David had grown up learning the tailor’s trade from his father, and with
Abby and some of the other’s help he began to fashion new clothes for them all.

They were no longer slaves.

The return of clothing was a great relief
to them, although most of them were already used to the nudity that had been
forced upon them. It gave their small community a sense of a growing
civilization. Albamarl was more than just a house now, it was a new future.

“We will be wealthy,” said Tad Hayes,
speaking to his father, Tom, before he left to return to Colne.

“The iron won’t be enough, Son,” said Tom.
“There’s only so much need for it in Colne and Lincoln. You’ve already upset
the metals trade.”

“There will be other things, Dad,” said
the young man. “We can do so much more. You’ll see. The trade will make you
and Mom wealthy as well.”

Later he spoke with Ryan, “Have you given
thought to walls?”

“They are in the plans,” said his
half-brother.

“Perhaps we should work on those next,”
suggested Tad.

“Worried about wolves stealing our
animals?”

Tad glanced toward the giant trees, “Walls
have other purposes.”

“I don’t think they’ll be much use if
that’s your fear,” opined Ryan. “You know as well as I do that in the sort of
fights we might someday face walls will be of little use.”

“It would make me feel better,” said Tad.
“We’ve gained so much, but it doesn’t feel secure.”

“The only security we have,” replied Ryan,
“is that they don’t want to mess with
him.
” He hooked his thumb in the
direction of Tyrion.

Their conversation ended at that point,
for Emma appeared, “Ryan, can I talk to you for a bit?”

“Sure,” Ryan responded immediately, his
eyes lighting up when he heard her voice.

“Again,” sighed Tad, watching the two of
them move away. “He spends too much time with her,” he muttered to himself.

***

It was several days later when it
happened.

Tyrion was outside, planning the
demolition of the back wall of his house, to make way for the new nursery, when
he felt their presence. Letting his magesight roam outward, he was immediately
alarmed. They were everywhere, at the range of his senses but moving closer.
A vast array of She’Har.
No, not She’Har alone, most of them are krytek.

He yelled, calling to the others who were
mostly in the front yard, but Emma was already moving. Her magesight was as
good as his own, and she had detected the krytek as well. Everyone began
running, gathering in front of the main house.

Joining them, Tyrion found Brigid already
by his side. He had been so preoccupied he hadn’t even noticed his dark shadow
taking her place next to him. Her face held no expression, but her aura gave
the impression of eagerness.
She wants to fight.

The others were not so thrilled by the new
development.

“What do we do?” said Emma anxiously.

Tyrion sighed. All his plans had come to
naught. The She’Har had finally made their decision. Justice would never be
satisfied. The numbers surrounding Albamarl were in the thousands, and they
weren’t composed of the naïve children of the She’Har, they were mostly krytek,
the battle-ready creations of the father-trees.

“We die,” he told them. “This is far too
soon for anything I had considered.”

Kate was standing nearby. “Don’t try to
send me away,” she warned him.

He laughed, “It wouldn’t do any good.
There is no safe place. You will die beside me.”

“Where’s Lyralliantha?” asked David.

“She went to the Illeniel Grove this
morning,” he told them.

“She’s betrayed us,” spat Ian.

“Watch your mouth, boy,” threatened
Tyrion. “Use your brain. You’ll notice that the krytek are coming from every
direction
but
the Illeniel Grove. They’re the only ones who aren’t
involved in this.”

“Could we take shelter there?” suggested
Abby.

Violet nodded, desperate for any hope,
“She’s right! We could make a run for it.”

“It’s too late for that,” Tyrion informed
them. “There are Mordan among them, and they’re within visual range of us
now. Move close to the house, don’t leave room for them to teleport behind
us. Form a circle and be careful not to cut the person next to you.”

Enchanted shields flickered into life
around each of them, and their arm-blades glowed with deadly aythar as they
moved to obey.

He began issuing more orders, “Brigid,
stay beside me. I want you to kill anyone who enters the circle. Protect me
while I work. Kate, sit with me until it’s over.”

Sitting cross-legged, he held Kate in
front of him, kissing her cheek once more. Her body was tense with fear and
anger. “Don’t leave me,” she said.

“What do you want me to do?” asked Layla.

The Prathion mage didn’t have the tattoos
he had given his children, and Tyrion knew she would be the first to die if she
fought alongside them. “Lie down beside us and put a shield over us. Make it
as strong as you can manage but do nothing else.”