Michael Manning - The God-Stone War

“That doesn’t count!” Matthew protested. “I wasn’t hiding anymore.” His eyes went from his sister to me and back again, as if he was hoping I would rule in his favor.

“So that’s why you were hiding behind the coats,” I said dramatically, as if a great mystery had been solved. “I’m afraid she’s right. You came out of hiding voluntarily to surprise me.” I could sense Moira sticking her tongue out at him as I made my ruling.

“You don’t win till you find Gram too,” replied Matthew, looking past me as he spoke directly to his sister again. Gram was the name of Dorian’s six year old son, who I gathered, must be spending time with us while Rose and Dorian were enjoying their reunion. Casting out my senses, I located him quickly. I had missed him at first for he had cleverly hidden himself on top of the fireplace mantle in the nearby parlor. How he had gotten there, without knocking various knick-knacks down, was beyond my wit to understand, nor did I think Moira would ever notice him there. He obviously took his hiding seriously.

I set them both down. “I’ll let you two get back to your business. Be careful not to break anything.” I worried about what would happen when Gram eventually tried to get down from the mantle, but I felt a duty to keep his secret. Hide and seek was serious business after all. After a bit of bargaining, the two of them split up to search for their hidden friend.

By now I knew where Penny was, so I moved confidently through the house until I had reached her. Entering the nursery, I was immediately reminded of an old painting I had once seen. Actually, the scene that greeted my eyes was better, for this vision included the loveliest woman I had ever met and she had pulled her dress down from her shoulder to expose one side of her chest. The old painting at the Lancaster’s had certainly included nothing as risqué as that.

“Obviously you heard me in the hall,” I said with a devilish smile, at least I hoped it was devilish. Penny made a face at me as she picked up our tiny daughter Irene and placed the babe to her breast. I responded with a look of mock disappointment, “I thought that was for me.”

Penny stroked Irene’s soft cheek and cooed at her until she had firmly latched on before responding. Glancing up she gave me a look that held equal parts affection and exhaustion. With a small laugh she replied, “You’re going to have to learn to share.” I got the impression that particular joke was getting worn out. Given that this was our fourth child, it was impossible for me to guess how many times I had used it. “I didn’t expect you back so soon,” she added.

“The work is moving along smoothly. Things will probably still get done without me there,” I said, giving her my most charming smile. Before I could elaborate, our third child, little Conall, emerged from behind Penny’s skirt and latched onto my leg. I gazed down at him with a serious look to complement the thoughtful expression on his face as he stared up at me. After a moment his face changed and lit up with an adorable grin. “Where have you been!?” I asked him with an excited tone.

Conall’s warm brown eyes spoke volumes but his mouth only gifted him with one word, “Dad!” The word emerged imperfectly from his lips and then he resumed smiling. Conall wasn’t very much for deep conversation yet, but I wasn’t in any hurry. Matthew and Moira were already talkative enough for the entire family. I could wait a while longer for whatever words Conall would grace me with someday.

I went down on hands and knees while Conall began to guide me along the floor, showing me his discoveries among the nursery room toys. As often happened, my conversation with Penny was sidetracked while she fed Irene and I tried to emulate an air of serious attention for Conall. The children had enriched our lives in a multitude of ways, yet in others they contributed to a certain feeling of distance between Penny and me, as we found ourselves continually drawn in different directions by their needs and distractions.

A loud crash roused me from my reverie with Conall. There was a distinctive tinkling in the noise as well, a sound almost exclusive to glass breaking. Penny’s head came up quickly and her eyes focused on me, “What was that!?” Her sudden movement and sharp tone disturbed the babe in her arms, and little Irene began to cry.

My senses hadn’t noted any strangers, so my first thought was of the twins and Gram. “I’ll go check,” I told Penny calmly, but my magesight had already pinpointed the source of the commotion. Gram had fallen from the mantle. Rising rapidly I left the room and headed back to the parlor. Little Conall rambled along behind me, trying to keep up with my long strides.

As I got closer I could hear Moira crying loudly with a panicked tone in her strident voice. Upon entering my eyes traveled over her. Though I could see she was distraught, I could find no sign of harm to her. I scooped her up, and felt as if a hand were squeezing my heart when I saw her lower lip trembling and the tears running down her red cheeks. She couldn’t quite get the words out but she was pointing at Gram, who sat quietly on the floor surrounded by the remains of the large, silvered glass mirror, that had until recently hung on the wall above the fireplace mantle.

Matthew stood beside the younger boy, and though he wasn’t crying audibly I could see that something had frightened him badly. There were tears on his cheeks as he looked up at me. “I told him I was sorry. It was an accident! I didn’t mean for it to happen!” Matthew told me in a tone bordering on panic.

I set Moira down and turned to my son. “Shhh… it’s ok,” I told Matthew soothingly as I stroked his hair. My eyes and other senses had already confirmed that the two of them were unhurt so I focused my attention on Dorian’s son Gram. “Are you alright, Gram?” I asked him calmly. The boy’s features were calm, but there was a certain wildness in his eyes and his face was ashen.

Gram shook his head negatively and his eyes grew rounder, still he remained quiet. I could see that his forehead was damp with sweat and then I spotted his arm. It was bent at an odd angle, and my stomach tightened as I noted the white bones jutting from his forearm. The pain had to be excruciating, which probably explained why he was sitting so still. Even the slightest movement would be agonizing. Despite all that, I had to respect his reserve; Dorian’s son hadn’t cried out, even though he was clearly in a great deal of pain. The boy was very calm, or perhaps he was in shock, and tears were beginning to well slowly in his wide blue eyes.

“Gram, everything will be alright. I can see you hurt your arm, but it’s nothing we can’t fix,” I said softly, trying to project an aura of reassurance. “Just sit still and I’ll try to make it stop hurting. Did any of the glass cut you?”

His head bobbed up and down affirmatively and then he spoke in a whisper, “I want momma.”

I nodded, “Of course, and we’ll go see her in just a minute, but first we need to make your arm feel better.” I brushed some of the glass aside and sat down next to him. He flinched when I touched his arm, but not a sound escaped his clenched teeth. Just like his father, I thought to myself, remembering a few of Dorian’s childhood injuries. Closing my eyes, I quickly sought out the nerves in his upper arm and blocked them to stop the pain. Gram relaxed visibly when I did, and a long sigh of pent up breath escaped his lips. “There. Does that feel better?” I asked him.

“What happened?!” came Penny’s voice from the doorway. As soon as she entered Moira leapt up and ran to her. Matthew followed quickly after. The sight of their friend’s arm bones sticking through the skin had thoroughly unnerved them.