Knight of the Realm tya-3 Read online

  Yay.

  It was almost a perfectly straight line from the palace to his door after all.

  Right. First he'd bathe and get something to eat, then see if the cook had some of that reaction remedy on hand. Tor knew the guy used it himself for hangovers at least a few times a week, so it was likely. On second thought, he decided, brain suddenly throbbing to an even greater level, maybe he'd do that first? Head feeling like it had been stuffed with wool, painful and nausea filled, Tor nodded and nearly threw up. Definitely that first.

  It gleamed in the sun, the compound before him, a reddish black jewel, walls nearly thirty feet high, with four towers, one at leach corner of the wall, and a large palace like structure towards the rear. There was a division between the front and the back, a wall with a simple, if huge, door cut in it. Not that he could see it from the ground of course. Kolb and his people had build on when they moved in. Tor still lived in the little hut he'd built first. It was actually, to the best of his knowledge, the first thing like it ever built with focus stone. Concentrated dirt.

  Seeing it he felt a sense of relief. At least he still had a home, even if most of his friends had turned out to hate him or at least didn't care enough to try and spare his feelings at all. Not even Varley hadn't told him and they were engaged to be married. Or they were at least. Tor shook himself slightly and then instantly regretted it.

  Don't make any life altering choices with the reaction still on him, he reminded himself again. It would be too easy to pick the wrong course just then. Someone saying hello the wrong way could set him off as things stood. If this were anywhere else, he'd be given easy and gentle treatment for a while, a day or so, until he got back to normal. Instead he'd have to take care of himself, all his friends gone now.

  It was so incredibly lonely to think about.

  Tor dropped to the ground just in front of the open gate, his head feeling stuffed with cotton in the few spaces it just didn't ache, which was a change up from wool. A finer feeling. More white instead of an oily gray sense to things. At the palace they had a pretty decent remedy for it, some kind of bitter brown sludge that tasted horrible, but made the worst of the pain go away at least. The thought was silly, he realized, since it was the same one he could get from the cook here. Thinking really just wasn't his thing at the moment. He made himself smile and slowly walk forward.

  The sun was brighter than normal today too, hotter. Part of that was the light sensitivity from the combat rage, and part because he was out with no temperature equalizer on. Tor could grab one in his hut though, there was a box of them sitting on the shelf behind the table. As he walked in, two men, both low ranked military, in their black uniforms, barred his way. They literally moved to stand in front of him and not let him walk to his hut.

  Guards? He'd known that there was normally a man watching the gate, but this seemed a bit more official for some reason. Probably the new war thing with the Wards and the attack on Queen's day in the Capital a week before.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” One of them said with a lot more menace than someone should have at Tor's front gate, war on or not. Tor didn't recognize either man, so he tried to let it go. After all, they were just doing their job, right? Trying to make sure no one came to visit without permission or something? Though really, if anyone bothered to show up way out here, shouldn't' they let them in? Maybe find them a snack and a guide?

  “I'm Tor. I live here? In fact, it's my house, so step aside please.” It took effort but he managed to even keep his voice civil, pain slicing through his head or not.

  The other guard chuckled.

  “Right… a little piece of shit commoner like you is the Wizard Tor? Go away before we beat you for lying.”

  This got a laugh from the other man too. Of course. Well, if they didn't recognize him, what could he do?

  “I'm Tor, Torrence Baker… Really… Can you get someone that knows me at least, instead of trying to bar me from my own home? That's the protocol, isn't it? Get someone to vet the person at the gate?” He crossed his arms, but refused to tap his foot at them yet. He wasn't a farm wife. Normally it would have been just a mild inconvenience even if these men were being obnoxious about the whole thing. His head and mood just weren't up for it today for some reason. Tor would have to talk to Godfrey about this. It was one thing to bar the way, but they shouldn't be rude to guests or visitors, right? Or to him. That part was a little annoying too at the moment. More than a little.

  Neither man wanted to be bothered, but finally one of them walked off, coming back with a sergeant a while later. He didn't recognize Tor either. He also didn't seem to think much of his claim of being himself. His clothing was a bit dirty, even though clearly quality for all that. Really, Tor guessed, it was all about his being short. All these men were taller, most of the elite military were. They looked at him and thought “commoner”. Or more likely, “commoner piece of shit”, from what the first men had said.

  “Sorry, we don't have anyone available to check out your claim right now, maybe after breakfast?”

  Did people actually show up at his front gate claiming to be him all that often? Probably not, which meant that these guys were just pushing him around because they thought they could get away with it. Well, he wasn't in the military, and he was kind of short, but still… Tor nodded and stalked off. He'd just go through the gate around back entrance, he told them, getting another laugh.

  “There is no gate in the back.” The sergeant said, obviously deciding that he was a crank or possibly insane.

  “Not yet.” Tor grumbled softly enough that they probably didn't hear him over their own laughing.

  That was, he realized, about the last straw. This was his house. They were just guests and he hadn't even invited them. None of them except Kolb's people and the ladies of industry, the whores. The military personnel had come in uninvited and set up shop. His house, his rules, right? Well one of his rules from now on was that no one kept him out. He had time to think about this while he walked around the outer wall, it took nearly ten minutes to work his way around to the back. Right in the center of the wall he stopped and took a deep breath, which caused his head to ache even more somehow.

  Dropping into a deep working state he started building a cutter, a simple magical field that just told matter to go in two separate directions really, on a very tiny level of being. It had to be strong, but wasn't hard to make, not after all the building practice he'd had. It was one of the first things he'd done using direct effect like this. He didn't want to take time to build an actual device right now, so this one just hung in the air in front of his right hand, following it as a guide.

  Holding his focus steady he cut through the stone wall as if through warm butter. Tor started with a half circle no taller than he was, then made a line on the bottom. The weight held it in place, but a line appeared where his hand moved. Then he bisected it, cutting the new door into several pieces. When none of the chunks looked to be bigger than his fist Tor let the cutter fade and waited for a second. Then he waited for nearly a minute. The cutter hadn't faded much at all. Heh. That was a strong field for one hastily built. He must be finally getting better at things like that, he realized. A small sign of mastery, even if it was a bit annoying right now.

  Holding his right hand out so he didn't accidentally cut anything he wanted off his body Tor kicked the focus stone wall a little awkwardly, a stomp about three foot high. The first kick made some of the pieces slide a little, but it took a dozen more to open up a hole and about five minutes to move enough out of the way for him to walk through. It was five foot thick after all. The action made both his right foot and ankle, plus his head, ache. Whee.

  Plus he'd have to fix the hole in the wall now, or make an actual gate back here. Tor decided to bother with that later, after he had some rest and got cleaned up. The cutter had finally faded, almost at least, so Tor just walked in, being careful not to trip as he made his way past the five foot long pieces of smooth r
ed and black stone littering the ground.

  “Stop right there!” A voice screamed at him forcefully. Maybe “scream” was unkind? It was a manly bellow maybe. Whichever, it made him wince, head throbbing. Ten military men stood around holding force lances on him. Ah. Still no one that knew who he was? What the heck was with that? Had he come to the wrong compound made of focus stone in the wastelands?

  “Down on the ground, now!” The one in front screamed. Tor had a shield on, but no weapons. He let his mind turn to rebuilding the cutter, which sprang back into place almost instantly, though it wasn't very strong yet. That would come, if he had a few more seconds. He decided to buy some time.

  “I don't think so. Put your weapons down and move out of my way. This is my house and I won't be treated this way here.” Tor knew his voice shook with rage, but the man in front of him didn't seem to care about his feelings at all. Kind of rude of him really.

  “I said get down!” The bully in front screamed again, making Tor a little mad. He didn't care for people trying to bully him in general, and his tolerance for it in the moment was gone completely. The ache in his temples was too much to allow forbearance. It wouldn't have been a problem if they would have done what he said or even left him alone… So of course the moron in front tried to kick Tor in the stomach, because if you don't get your own way, don't bother trying to think, right? No just go right ahead and attack a man in his own house. Not that he was doing so hot in that department himself, thinking, but he had a reason for that. These men didn't, they were just morons.

  The move cost the man his left foot as Tor reflexively blocked the move with the cutter field. The man didn't even realize his foot had been removed until he tried to set his leg down. A cutter wound didn't hurt after all, but the man, a captain if Tor recognized the little blob on his collar, certainly screamed loud enough when the stub hit the dirt. The raw wound had to sting a bit. The man crumpled to the ground and grabbed his leg, bleeding profusely.

  Then, probably not realizing that Tor hadn't been attacking at all, just trying to defend himself, the remaining nine men opened up with their weapons. They turned out not to be force lances, but a variety of military weapons. No air chokes, thank god. Nothing they had touched him at all, so he started walking.

  “I'm Tor you morons, stop attacking me and get this man medical attention! This is my house…” No one listened to him at all. He yelled it again. Finally he just decide to go home, the men screaming at him the whole time. At least one of the men, a private, had enough sense to get a tourniquet on the downed mans leg. None of the men had shields on for some reason, which was too bad for the captain, or he'd still have that foot. For a moment Tor wondered if he could fix it. The cut was really clean and if he could repair the field, like he had his own leg, would that work? He could try, if these morons would stop getting in his way.

  They didn't though, trying to tackle him and getting more people to join in. What fun, let's beat up Tor! Finally voices started telling them to stop, first a female voice, one of Kolb's instructors, Petra. Petra Ward. Even if her brother and sister in-law had tried to poison him, she seemed all right. Nice even. Being cute didn't hurt either. After a few seconds she stood in front of him, and started knocking out anyone that came towards him. Less than ten seconds after that half a dozen combat giants took up position around him too.

  “Stand down!” One of them, a huge man that stood at least seven-six and was a full Baron ordered the military men. “I said, stand the fuck down!”

  “Tor…” Petra said softly, “What happened? Why are they attacking you?” She sounded baffled.

  “They kept me out at the front gate, so I came back here and made a new one,” He gestured behind him. “Then they attacked me, probably for doing that, but it's my freaking wall, if I want to put in a new gate, I can. That one there, Captain moron? He tried to kick me, so I cut his foot off. I didn't mean to, acted on instinct. They're just lucky I didn't do the same to the rest of them!” His voice had moved into a half yell. He snorted as he took a deep breath through his nose.

  “Now, if no one’s going to try to kill me for a few minutes I need to drop my shield if I'm going to do anything about this assholes foot before you all leave. The military I mean. If they're going to attack me, they obviously aren't welcome here anymore.” That made sense, didn't it? Tor decided it did and knelt by the jerk that had tried to attack him. Mad as he was, a kick to the stomach wasn't really worth a lost foot as a lesson.

  It took about an hour to really fix the foot back into place, but the initial repair got managed in less than ten minutes, fast enough that the tissue hadn't died yet at least. That was good, because Tor was pretty sure that if the flesh died, the foot was gone forever. That just felt right. When the work was done the man got up and started walking as if nothing had happened. He went gingerly at first, and was pale from blood loss and shock, but didn't seem to be in pain. Good, he could walk out on his own then.

  Before anyone else could say anything Tor looked at the military men arrayed around him in their dark uniforms. He pointed.

  “Get out. Get your crap and get out of my home now. You have ten minutes. Don't take anything that isn't yours and get out. Now.” No one moved. Tor got to his feet and pointed again. “Now!”

  He didn't wait for anyone to do anything, covered in blood from working on the man’s foot he stalked towards his hut. If they thought he was going to just let them stay now, they were going to be surprised. Though they really shouldn't be. He was a builder after all.

  Walking down into his hut, the single room fifty by fifty foot dwelling he'd made for himself his first day here, he moved to his box of amulets and made sure he was better armed. Flying rig, Not-flyer, force lances, two air chokes and going to his bed he dug an explosive out of the chest he had under his bed. No one knew these were there, but he had a hundred of them. They were special, designed to kill, but not destroy the whole world or anything like that. No, that weapon he kept on a twine string, which hung around his neck. It was too powerful to leave lying around. Really he should destroy it, he just hadn't gotten to it yet. Things kept coming up.

  Walking outside he noticed that no one had started packing. In fact the military men all seemed to be lined up in front of his house. With weapons. So not even bothering to try and apologize?

  Jerks.

  He blinked at them, arrayed there the hot white sun. At least some of them seemed to recognize him this time. There were a lot more of them now, nearly five hundred? What the hell? He'd only been gone for a little under a month. How had this happened? There had only been about three hundred before. It didn't matter. Not now. They were just about to leave anyway.

  Tor pointed at them with a force lance.

  “Go! Get out now.” No one budged.

  “You can't order us off a military base! You're not even in the military you sawed off psycho!” One of the men near the back yelled. Tor understood that the guy wasn't anyone in charge, but it was just about the wrong thing to say, wasn't it? He was sawed off? How would they look without any legs, he wondered? Instead, he responded, sounding a lot more relaxed and calm than he felt. So basically he came off as a half insane gibbering fool, even to his own ears.

  “True. And if this was a military base, there'd be a problem, but it isn't. It's my home, not a base at all. Now go. Get out.” No one moved. Tor sighed. “Right, then.”

  Sweeping the force lance fast he knocked down the first three rows on the right hand side, then laid into them for real. Didn't they get the point? It wasn't that deep or anything, they were being evicted and needed to leave. Seeing their fellows being knocked down and as often as not, out, those with weapons opened fire. Nothing happened to him, but his house got hit a lot. He could hear it, even though nothing they had did much to it at all. Focus stone was tough. Tor kept sweeping their lines, making a point to hit anyone coming his way or holding a weapon.

  True, he could just switch weapons and kill them all, but most of
them were just guys that made furniture, plates and cisterns for water. They hadn't wronged him, not personally. They had to go, because their fellows had messed up and they worked for the King, but death seemed a little harsh just for that. Still, he had a second force lance, one way better than what they had. He took out most of them then, holding one in each hand, the little copper tubes glinting a bit and feeling smooth to his fingers. His weapons moving back and forth as fast as he could move his arms. This worked pretty well until someone flew into him at speed.

  His shield protected him, but Tor was ripped off his feet, carrying part of the ground with him, stuck in the shield itself, as a large man in black hit him full force, actually flying, so about three hundred and fifty miles per hour. He had a shield too, since Tor had kind of insisted that no one in the military fly without one. It was to keep them safe, of course.

  Turned out to be a brilliant plan now, didn't it?

  Tor didn't wait to hit the ground, tapping the back of his left hand with his right as he tumbled through the air. The tricky part was waiting as he fell, until he knew his hand was being raised upward. If he got it wrong he'd power dive into the ground. He rose. It wasn't really upwards, off at an angle instead, but close enough to let him orient himself without dying. The mound of dirt dropped away after a few seconds, the field letting it go as soon as his movement slowed.

  Six people, all men, were flying with him, three rushed in as soon as he stabilized and hovered, his body upright for a moment. Tor swept his force lance over them, but nothing happened. So they had good shields? Probably ones he'd made. The newest in the line, that stopped force lances, but let you fly. Even the explosives he had wouldn't do anything to them, he didn't think. Except for the big one, but that would just kill. He'd have to out fly them then.

  That was harder to do than it sounded. Whoever these guys were, obviously not regular soldiers, they were good. They worked as a team and after about four minutes managed to force Tor into the ground. That hurt, but not as much as it would have without his shield.