Knight Esquire ya-2 Page 28

  He returned fire.

  Connie and Richard had run away, or possible had been pulled to safety. Either was possible. What they were thinking ordering a needless attack like this he didn’t know. As the men closed with him, weapons raised, ready to fire, if not doing so already. Tor sprayed the whole hallway from left to right. It knocked people down pretty rapidly. They seemed to be wearing shields, but either they weren’t very new ones, or if they were, the shields weren’t made by him. Good. It made the next bit easier.

  When he had as many of them as possible taken down, four of the nine seemed about what he could manage at once spread out as they were, because they stood up too fast for more, he rushed them full speed, using the new field to hover just over the floor. Way faster than he could run. Bodies flew again as he hit. At the door he found Counselor Smythe standing in the way, hands raised, burning pain coming off of them, so he hit the man with the direct beam of the lance, knocking him out the door.

  The stumbling and flailing of the large older man would have been either sad or funny, depending on the situation, if it wasn’t so dire in the moment. The man had set the military on him. Commando’s it seemed. Who the hell did that? He was a seventeen year old kid for god’s sake. Tor wasn’t even particularly dangerous. What was he going to do, run away at them?

  The thought made him laugh out loud, since that was pretty much what he’d actually done.

  “Run away!” He called out, as if it were his battle cry.

  Even after knocking them down he heard their foot falls behind him, closing fast. Tor pinned the man’s head to the ground with the force lance as he closed with him. It couldn’t have been comfortable at all. Smythe had tucked the explosive device into his left front pocket, which would probably be impossible to get to, depending on the type of shield he had on, he knew. When Tor moved slowly though, his right hand passed. It felt like reaching through thickened mud.

  Finally, just as the first of the military men got to him with their pain devices and air chokes, he got it and pulled it slowly from the field. Yes, he couldn’t breathe and was in pain the whole time, the air thick and hard to move through… that didn’t matter though. All that did was making sure a madman didn’t have his super-weapon.

  The big difference now, other than that he was armed with a weapon they couldn’t match again, was that he was outside. Rules against it or not, if you tried to kill him, he was going to try and run away, even if that meant flying.

  Run away!

  The motto came back again clearly. Kolb really knew his business Tor decided, having drilled that into him so forcefully for years. Trying to fight the army meant eventual death, but this… He started to fly straight up when he heard the yelling. The relief from pain was almost instant as he rose, like cool water caressing his tender flesh. Air sucked into his lungs hard, making him cough due to the force of it. That hurt too, but it felt better having the air than not.

  “Stand down!”

  He couldn’t see who was yelling it at first, but after a few seconds twenty black and purple clad Royal Guards rushed the courtyard pointing weapons. At first he thought they were trying for him, so he rose to a few hundred feet, ready to bolt. Instead they pointed them at Smythe and his men, who dropped their own weapons in an orderly fashion. Tor didn’t go anywhere, but also didn’t let himself be lulled into a sense of security.

  It would have been a very convoluted trick to try and pull, using the Royal Guard to make him feel safe from the military, then everyone attacking him, but the royals did things like that. It was like they couldn’t enjoy a victory if it didn’t have six layers of intrigue or difficulty built in.

  Finally Richard and Connie came back out, and so did Rolph. They didn’t yell up at him or anything, but they all looked, and finally Rolph waved to him. Tor lowered to about twenty feet so they could all talk, hoping it really wasn’t just another trick.

  “Hey, so, guys… What the hell? One minute were having a nice, if slightly heated conversation about how to handle some shady merchants, the next, military guys come out of the walls? What kind of a set up is that? Or do you want me to believe they just live in the walls and pop out on command? If they were Royal Guards I might have bought that excuse, but military commandos living at the palace full time? I think not.” Tor shook his head broadly so everyone could see it.

  Smythe stood on the ground, unarmed, or at least without his interesting gloves, looking angry. Well, he wasn’t alone in that, was he? Tor landed, holding the explosive device in his right hand. The man didn’t cringe away, but did speak as if he wasn’t right there again.

  “I told you that he was unstable sire! Look at him, holding us all hostage. Ready to kill us if we don’t accede to his demands! We should have killed him when we had a chance. Now who knows what he’ll do?” The man looked smug instead of scared, which frightened the hell out of Tor. He shook after all that and felt a pressing need to use a restroom, but this man looked angry, and then smug, about something? When technically Tor had just won the little skirmish, at least if it was judged by the criterion of his not dying.

  “In general people that try to assassinate other people without good cause, and fail, don’t act like the cat that had all the cream Smythe. Do you think that you’re winning anyone over by claiming that the guy that handed you a weapon as a good will gesture not three minutes before you launched an attack is the unstable one?”

  He obviously did because he smiled then.

  “Oh, I think I’ve proven my point well enough.”

  Tor shrugged. Maybe he had at that.

  “Well, if your point is that you’re off your rocker and a dick-head, I think you’re doing just fine. Did you have some other point? Because notice, I didn’t set you up with an appointment with a death squad when everyone else was having a conversation about what to do. God, haven’t you ever heard of venting? Didn’t you think that Rich was going to come pat me on the back and tell me to stop being an a-hole and that Connie was going to give me a hug and I’d back down with some minor face saving gesture from Debri house? Haven’t you noticed, in all of this, that, no matter how hurt I’ve felt, how injured I’ve been, I’ve never, ever, seriously injured, much less killed anyone? What — the fuck — is wrong with you?”

  Tor put the dangerous device back around his neck for safe keeping, then crossed his arms and glared at the military counselor. He wanted to tap his foot at the guy, but figured that would be a little too farm wife to be taken seriously just now. After a minute of silence Tor looked at the King.

  Hands going out, palms to the sky Tor gave the man a puzzled look. “Did he at least ask your advice before doing this? Cause if you told him to kill me, that kind of puts an end to our friendship. It’s a hard and fast rule of mine. I just made it up right this moment, but you know, it really makes sense don’t you think?”

  “He didn’t let me in on it at all. I wouldn’t have authorized it if he had let me in on it either. I’m not very pleased right now Smythe. Consider yourself under arrest and confined to your rooms until the council hears this. What happens then will depend a lot on what your exact orders were to these men.”

  So, Tor wondered out loud, had Smythe been the one really behind trying to have him killed then? Or maybe this council if they were responsible for the man? No one seemed to know. It was really a grand situation. Tor shrugged.

  “So, I kind of need to get out of town now I guess, and not tell anyone where I’m going either. I can’t keep fighting the whole military by myself, not forever. You saw how well these guys did and there were only eight of them. They even used my own weapons against me! The ones I gave you for safe keeping Rich. Not to attack me with. That’s not a small point either. Kind of ticks me off to be honest. I can’t be safe anywhere can I?” He tried not to pout about it, but the idea hit him hard. What little sense of security he’d had was gone now. Tor couldn’t even go home, because Two Bends was even less ready to fight off an attack than this place was. At lea
st here the army, presumably at least, wouldn’t attack innocent people to try and get to him.

  That… would have worked.

  If they’d grabbed the King and Queen or… Or even some serving girl or man that he didn’t know, maybe Burks or Laura the cook… He would have had to give up to protect them, even if he knew the bad guys were going to kill him. Thank god they hadn’t thought of that yet. He needed to get clear, fast.

  Richard walked over and patted the shield behind his shoulders, nothing connected of course, but the gesture was right. “Don’t be silly Tor. I can assure you that this won’t happen again, and at the very least any new threat will be novel.” He smiled and nodded to his wife. “Connie will see to your safety from now on, at least while you’re here. That way if anyone dares try to attack you, we can simply execute them out of hand. It’s one of the Queen’s rights you know, the writ of full protection. Even I can’t breach it. It’s actually the only law that I can legally be put to death for breaking. I’ll have it announced now, if you wish dear?”

  “Do it.” The Queen’s voice was steely and hard. She glared at Smythe as she said it and the man actually winced. It sounded like a bigger deal than Tor would have thought.

  A vision filled his mind for a moment, of him being ambushed by more black garbed military men and the Queen suddenly jumping out and doing battle with them. It involved a lot of swirling of skirts and hair pulling. Possibly some biting. Not that the woman wouldn’t know how to protect herself for real, she was probably better trained than he was, it was just funnier the way he thought of it.

  Smythe certainly didn’t like the idea at all, so maybe she was more dangerous than Tor thought?

  “Your majesty! I assure you such extreme measures aren’t needed…” The older man said, his cream and yellow colored robes drifting slightly in the breeze.

  Connie glared again, but it was the King that spoke.

  “Obviously they are. In my entire reign, no one at this palace has been attacked while a guest here. Not in my name at any rate. Now my own staff is taking it on themselves to decide who should be assassinated? I think not. Guards, please escort the counselor back to his rooms and ensure that he stays there pending the decision of the council.”

  Tor just stood, not really knowing what was happening. Queen’s protection? So was he being adopted as a pet or something? He had to ask out loud, because he kept coming up blank on this. It had never, at least to his recollection, been covered in the little schoolhouse in Two Bends. Everyone gave him a look that he interpreted as “silly bumpkin” but that didn’t tell him what he needed to know.

  “So what is it? This Queen’s protection. Don’t I get to know before I accept it? Because if it means I have to become a eunuch or something I think I’d rather just go hide out in the woods.” After all, just because women didn’t like him, that didn’t mean that he couldn’t have sex ever, did it? There were professionals for that kind of thing, and really, it wasn’t like he was disfigured or diseased so if he had the money, they might not say no. The ones in the Capital had seemed willing enough and were even nice to him when he told them he didn’t have the money at the time. That they worked for gold was, well what made them professionals, right? Everyone worked for coin. He wasn’t that awful… was he? The idea left him feeling a bit dirty, an artifact of his early upbringing, but it was something to cling to at least.

  Rolph ducked his head and turned away. After a few seconds of shaking shoulders Tor got that the big guy was laughing at him, but no one else spoke. What he needed right now was… Varley. She’d tell him what this was. Eye narrowing he asked where the girl was, so that he could get some answers. Rolph finally got his laughter, if not his face, under control enough to explain.

  “Tor, it’s not that big of a thing, just, well historically speaking the Queen’s protection has only been used to protect the Queen’s lovers from a jealous husband. So if they announce this it will basically be taken as everyone admitting that you and mom are, you know, together.”

  Ah. Tor frowned. Well he wouldn’t let her do it, would he? Let them do it. He had too much respect for them both, for all of them, to let that happen. Even if they didn’t like him at all. Connie’s name couldn’t be linked to someone like him, he told them, his voice going soft. Then he went inside the guest house to get his luggage. Running off and hiding would be way easier with some gold on hand, plus he had his working supplies and some things he promised to do, like those rivers for Afrak and building a wall for Ellen Ward.

  When he walked out everyone else had gone into the palace, so at least there wouldn’t be a scene. He took it as a sign that everyone kind of approved of his plan. Well, at least they weren’t going to insist on his ruining Connie’s good name. Better he die alone and forgotten than that, right?

  The only real problem was that it was starting to get dark and he didn’t have anywhere planned to stay yet. Really, even though there were supposed to be some good inns around the Capital, he had no clue where they were at all, or even what such a thing might look like from the outside. He’d never stayed at such a place, even while traveling to school.

  Debbie might have been willing to put him up in the little back room for the night, but tracking trouble to her door would be poor repayment for her previous kindness. Maybe he could camp outside the city for the night and then figure things out in the morning? He used the Not-flyer to get to the main gate, but the guards wouldn’t let him out. They claimed he wasn’t a prisoner, just that he hadn’t been given permission to leave.

  Right. Permission? To leave? He needed permission to leave now? Who needed permission to leave? Oh, right. Prisoners.

  This whole situation was just getting ridiculous. It took Tor about thirty seconds to set everything up, moving slowly, pretending to just check the luggage, and acting like he was about to go back to the guest house. Then, guards watching as if they expected him to explode at any moment, or try and fight his way out, Tor simply rose into the air and left.

  Permission indeed. Did the morons not realize he could fly?

  He got about an hour north before he had to land because he was losing the light. Landing in the dark was just too dangerous, even in the flat wasteland he found himself. He set up a little camp, really wishing he’d thought to buy a blanket or bedroll while he’d been in town. His shield would protect him from attack, not all, as he’d just learned, but most. His skin still felt burned and sore, but that wasn’t anything to major. He’d had worse sunburns. Still, it had hurt enough to distract him, which had been the plan he guessed.

  The temperature wouldn’t be a problem, warm enough still for sleeping even if he didn’t have a device that made that a moot point. He even had lights for safety and comfort in his case. But nothing he had would keep him off the ground at all. Or, and this was a real enough consideration as the day wore on, hide him while he relieved himself. All the camping out he’d ever done before was in the woods. This area was wide open, dry and scrubby looking, with a lot of exposed rock, some of it red and very flat on top. On the good side, no one seemed to live out here either, and even if anyone flew over they wouldn’t be able to see him in the middle of the night.

  The idea hit him all at once. He had equipment that would let him make a sturdy little shelter and lights that would let him see well enough to work. All he had to do was find the little stream he’d though he saw before he landed and he’d have almost everything he needed. Then again, working in the dark would be hard, even if he used his artificial lights. Instead he decided to just wait until morning. Then he could see about building a proper shelter.

  If anyone owned this land, they obviously didn’t care a lot about it, and really, how long would he be there anyway? He didn’t even have food or anything and doubted he could find any out here. Of course as far as Tor knew he wasn’t kicked out of the Capital or anything, so maybe he could go there for supplies? It might work, for a while at least. He curled up and tried to use his arm as a pillow. It didn
’t work very well, being too hard and bony for comfort. Sleep didn’t come for a long time, but it did arrive, finally, after several hours of pitch blackness.

  When morning came and Tor sat up he had a horrible crick in his neck, it hurt just to try and look to the right, as if someone had kicked him in the neck as he slept. It might have been damage from the fight the day before. If him running around being hit with weapons like that was to be considered such, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be counted as fun. He got up and walked towards where he thought the stream might be, feeling tempted to just fly the distance, but realizing that getting too lazy wouldn’t help his health long term, he needed to walk, and even, if he could manage it, run, as much as possible to recover what he’d lost, especially if he was going to have to fight commando squads now. Flying was better than nothing, but he couldn’t just float around all over the place if he wanted to keep himself from falling apart.

  The water wasn’t that far away, and as he lay on the bank scooping it into his mouth, tasted clean and pure. First he needed to get some kind of shelter, a roof and four walls would do, it didn’t have to be fancy, or even large. There was just one of him after all. How much did he really need? He paced out a square that was twenty by twenty paces or so and marked the corners with some rocks he’d found. There were no trees, which felt wrong and a little off-putting to him, but he wasn’t here permanently anyway, so worrying about it would be a waste of time.

  The soil was a red brown dirt that was dry, except for right by the water. The lack of trees at least meant that he didn’t have to deal with roots in the soil, so he used one of the excavation rigs to spray the dirt out of the square he’d marked off and then used the compressor to turn the floor and the inner walls into a hard red black “tile” about a foot thick. Actually he couldn’t decide if it was red-black or a deep brown black. It was kind of pretty either way. Shiny and a little like glass. This made a solid and not too ugly pit about six feet deep. Laughing he realized that he hadn’t put in any stairs, so he had to fly out of it and use dirt from about fifty feet away to add the needed steps near where he wanted to put his door. Tor could have used the dirt he’d piled up from the inside of the hole, but he wanted to save it all for the walls and roof, didn’t he?