Michael Manning - Mageborn - The Blacksmith’s Son

He began beating at my shield with his mind, using his power like a battering ram, not even bothering with words. He couldn’t speak anyway. The room grew dim as he struggled against me and my vision narrowed, as if I were standing in a tunnel. I held the shield for a long minute before he finally collapsed, and then I held it for minutes more. I had to make sure he was dead.

People were yelling and someone was shaking me, but I ignored them. I would not release my spell till Devon Tremont was dead beyond any doubt. Penny was standing in front of me and I could see her screaming at me, but I couldn’t understand her words. Finally she slapped me and the screen collapsed. Smoke and cinders filled the air and people began coughing.

I looked at her, “Why did you do that?” I said.

“Because you were killing yourself idiot!” she answered me, and then the ground rushed up to meet me. She tried to catch me but all she managed was to break my fall. I looked up at her; she had never seemed so lovely.

“Your nose looks like a potato.” I said with a laugh and then passed out. Stupid never dies, I thought as I spiralled into darkness.

I woke in a dark room. I lay still for a long while, trying to figure out how I had gotten there. Gradually I realized that someone lay next to me, and after a moment I identified it as Penny. The snoring is a dead giveaway, and it was worse than ever now, probably because of her nose. I slid my hand over to her and discovered she had a nightgown on. How disappointing. She stirred and the snoring stopped, I could feel her eyes on me in the dark, although I was sure she couldn’t see, the room was pitch black.

“Are you awake?” she asked softly.

“I’m not sure, this could be heaven,” I replied moving my hand over her shoulder. “I must be awake, because in heaven all the girls are naked.”

“Idiot, we thought you were dying,” she said, “I thought I would lose you.”

“I should have written you a letter first, then you would have felt better.” I replied sarcastically. Have I mentioned my unparalleled skills in talking to women?

For a change she didn’t react angrily, “I couldn’t do it without leaving you something, to explain.” I didn’t like the sound of her voice, it had a thick sound, as if she were about to cry.

I did my best to divert her, “Exactly why did you try to kill Devon anyway? Are you that interested in getting yourself killed?”

She explained what had happened; her vision, killing Father Tonnsdale, and her resolve to make the most of things by getting rid of Devon Tremont. I listened quietly, amazed at her nerve. This lovely woman had killed the traitor and hidden the fact without me being any the wiser. Then she had planned a murder and kept me completely unaware. I would have been scared to have her in the bed with me if I wasn’t absolutely sure we were on the same team.

“At least I had a good reason for everything I did. Unlike you… you tried to kill yourself at the end, even after they were all dead,” she finished.

“Not true, I was making sure they were dead,” I answered.

“You’re an idiot.” she shot back.

“You’re a double idiot, potato nose!” I replied wittily. Luckily this time she saw the humor in my joke and started giggling, and soon we were both laughing. Fatigue washed over me in waves and I decided I needed more sleep. Before I drifted off I realized I couldn’t feel her with my mind. I couldn’t feel anything. I was blind, but it wasn’t my eyes that weren’t working.

I woke early the next morning, amazed at how good I felt. By all rights I should be dead; instead I was hungry and extremely thirsty. Penny was not in the room so I ordered room service, “Hey! Somebody! I know you’re out there ya bunch of vultures. I’m not dead! I want food and something to drink!” In point of fact I had no idea if anyone was outside my door, I couldn’t sense anything beyond what my eyes could see. But I’m smart you see, I knew that whenever the hero slays a dragon the villagers always wait outside to bring him food and drink. There’s usually grateful virgins too, but I didn’t think Penny would approve of me asking for those.

Sure enough Benchley poked his head into the room, “You called sir?”

“Yes, thank you Benchley. Do come in,” he entered the room with his usual aplomb. I ignored his impeccable manners and started placing my order, “I need you to go kill me a cow. Not a small one mind, a big fat one. Have it cooked and brought up straight away.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Certainly sir.”

“Wait, nix that. Cooking will take too long, just kill it and bring it on up, I’ll have it rare.”

He nodded and left, cheeky bastard. I had my suspicions that he might not have taken me seriously. Of course I could just as easily have gone down and gotten my own food. My body seemed surprisingly whole, but they didn’t have to know that. Not yet anyway.

Since I was alone I took the opportunity to relieve myself. Strictly speaking the chamber pot is for use at night, so you don’t have to make the long walk to the privies, but I was feeling contrary. I also examined my face in the mirror.

Ugh! I looked like I had a really bad hangover. Too bad I hadn’t actually been drinking. The scar on my cheek was ugly and red and the skin had obviously been put together a bit sloppily. I can always tell the ladies it’s a dueling scar, I thought. Then I realized it actually was a sword inflicted scar; the events of the previous day seemed almost unreal.

There was a knock at the door so I hopped back in bed. It wouldn’t do to give away my healthy condition too soon, “Come in!”

Benchley came in, and as I suspected he had not brought me the cow I had ordered. Instead he had a large tray loaded with roast beef and a variety of fruits and vegetables. “Where’s my cow?” I asked reasonably.

“I’m afraid the cow was too fast for me sir. I managed to hack this part off before it got away, I do hope it will be satisfactory,” he answered with a deadpan face. I’ll be damned, I thought, he has a sense of humor. I decided to forgive him for cooking it instead of bringing it up raw.

Benchley left and Marc came in soon after. “Still playing sick I see,” he remarked.

He always had known me too well. “After yesterday I think I could use a rest,” I replied.

“Yesterday? You’ve been abed for almost two days. The attack was three days ago,” he said.

“Oh,” I replied intelligently.

Seeing my confusion he began filling me in on the events after my untimely collapse. Once the enemy had been crisped and starved for air they had searched the bodies. Dorian had taken the extraordinary precaution of hacking Lord Devon’s head from his shoulders. It seems I wasn’t the only paranoid one. They had even burned his corpse, both parts.

The Duke had rallied the outer garrison and they had swept the castle from top to bottom, rooting out the rest of the assassins. They had actually found another forty men scattered throughout the keep and some of the fighting had been long and bloody, but in the end the men of Lancaster had won the day. Dorian had gotten more exercise during that and had made quite a reputation for himself. Some of the men were calling him the ‘Demon of Lancaster’ now. He had been less than merciful to the enemy. He had also been wounded.