confidence that made him uneasy, but he just nodded and fought harder to make sure he did it. Wensa wasn't his friend really, but she didn't make a lot of overt mistakes either. If she thought he could do this, she was right, and one little Torrance Baker had better just do it.
The whole trip took about three hours and from the gentle snoring coming from the back, it sounded like almost everyone was asleep when Tor saw the lights ahead of them. Wensa was awake, but she had to be, to hold the light for him. Without her doing that, the best he could do was set down as slowly as possible and hope he wasn't over the river or on top of a tree.
“Over there, can you set down in a space that small? It should be easy enough for you.” Her voice was teasing and wry, trying to hide her fear of crashing most likely.
“Not a problem.” His voice was exhausted, but also held focus and determination. Confidence wasn't there, but it would have to do. A smile did come to his face at least, which had to count for something. Even if no one else could see it.
Really, it was only hard because he couldn't see directly below himself. Other than that it was just a matter of going slow and settling instead of powering towards the ground full blast. The craft didn't even bump when they landed. A few more hundred hours of practice and he might even get good at this, he decided.
Then he fell flat on his face when he tried to lightly step out of the craft. Tor had felt his foot catch on the small lip on the floor that made sure the door fastened securely when it had a top, which this one didn't. The fall was only from about a foot up, but he really wasn't ready for it and landed nearly flat on his face. The only thing that saved him from harm was his shield kicking in and sending the force of the impact into the ground. A low chuckle rose around him, a tired sound but not too mean. Tor stood up and even though he didn't get dirty, brushed himself off. Oh sigh. Tor grinned and realized that him looking a little bad just didn't matter in the grand scheme of things. The universe wouldn't notice that he'd tripped and wouldn't have cared if it did.
That was oddly comforting for some reason, knowing that ultimately he wasn’t being judged for the little things like that.
Then without acknowledging that he'd done it, Tor helped the family in the back out and handed them off to a local man in a light tan uniform that seemed to be making sure everyone had a place to sleep. That was a good plan, otherwise it would be tempting to just curl up on the ground. There were rows of new magical houses to the left, but Tor and the others were all staying in a decently large, very old, gray stone and wood dwelling off to the right. They managed to find beds and started sleeping almost immediately. Tor wanted to look for Ali, but after only a few minutes gave up and just grabbed a single bed, a device he'd made for sale, instead of one of the things from his emergency pack.
Who would have thought about beds?
Apparently Ali would, and that just showed that she was even smarter and more wonderful than he'd thought before. Tor yawned and then sank into it comfortably, letting it hug around him gently. The bed came with sheets and blankets, and, if you knew what you were doing you could make it grow or shrink. It was handy that way.
Tor wasn't too surprised when he woke up with a few other people sleeping next to him. Alissa was tucked into his front, held together like spoons. Behind him was a warm form curled around him that he feared might be Rolph or worse, Ridley, but was only Wensa. It was odd, but not as bad as he’d thought it would be. Rolph was flat on his back next to her and Trice was laying with her right arm drifting over the edge on the far side, looking like she was slowly slipping off the slick white sheet below.
Tor heard people moving around, but they were trying to be quiet, so it was probably safe to sleep a few more minutes. If they came in yelling then it would be a real problem. Drifting off he dreamed that he was flying, the air beneath his feet tingling for some reason, so he landed on a tomb, one made of pure and glossy marble. Ah, one of those kinds of dreams Tor understood, feeling a little reluctant about the whole idea. Well, he'd been warned by Burks they were coming, hadn't he? Because, even if it was all his imagination, the dead would haunt him, if he killed them at least.
Well, dream time then, goody.
It couldn't be happening in his waking life, not really, but he knew who was there. Tor had only done one thing that would set this up, so far at least. Only killed one person. The dead Count Derring. Ah. Well, this had to come, didn't it? His pattern's makeup, his “genetics”, and innate “programming”, as Burks had said, made it so he'd have to pay for each person he killed, one way or another. Monster or not, Tor had directly paid for the Counts death. With enough gold that decent sized villages couldn't have afforded it, even if they collected up all they had. Most full towns would have been hard pressed.
So no denying it was his fault.
Nodding, he readied himself for what had to come. A hand from the ground or a door opening to the tomb, for him to fall into. Instead the man was just there, not looking dead or decayed even, just smarmy and like he thought he was better than everyone else.
Normal for a Count really.
“Mr. Baker! And how are you doing?” He said, far more politely than Tor would have expected, even in real life.
“Um, hi Count Derring…”
“Oh, do call me Robert. Not really Count any more, am I? Being dead kind of cancels that one out. So, not to rush you, but you're about to wake up to an emergency, thought I'd give a heads up.”
That didn't sound right to Tor at all. Count Derring wouldn't have warned him of anything, would he? It didn't seem likely. He asked why the man had come to the sound of cheery laughter.
“Just to find out why you killed me. That's all. I don't suppose you have a good reason, do you? I never did. “I felt like it” was about the best one I ever managed myself.”
Not wanting to just gloss over it, Tor took a minute to think, it was in dream time, so a lot faster than ordinary thinking.
“It was because you had to die. Really, if you lived, you'd have kept doing those awful things to people, hurting them, raping them, all those other things you did that are too evil to even talk about. I still can't let myself think about most of those things you know. You weren't going to stop, were you?” Was he? Had Tor had him killed the day before his reformation or something?
“Oh gods no. I would have kept going, until I died anyway. Really, from here, I can see you did the right thing. Bit inconvenient, being dead like this, but the worlds better for it. Well, no real time left, you need to wake up now and get to work. Remember, work smarter, not harder.” The man chuckled and waved, a strange and almost silly look on his face.
With that Tor woke and sat up.
What the fudge kind of haunting was that? The man just basically agreed that he needed to be killed? It was true, but even Tor's own subconscious mind should have been harder on him than that. Making sure he knew killing was wrong and not to be taken lightly or something… Was he doing this dream thing wrong? Then again, maybe he just knew that the man had actually been unstoppable in any other way and what he'd done was just right?
By the time he'd scooted out of the bed and got dressed the men came in yelling, it still took a second to understand what they were saying, too many voices echoing in the stone hall they'd been given for sleeping.
“The dam is breaking!”
Right, that emergency that was mentioned. Handy that, in a way, since it meant he'd gotten a chance to wake up a little and get dressed first.
Tor grabbed his trunk of stuff and ran out into the cool morning air. After a second he didn't feel it anymore, but his breath made clouds in front of him as he ran. He needed to see the dam to know what to do, but didn't have a clue as to its location.
He needed a map. Fast too. A dam going on top of the existing flooding would be… bad.
Very bad.
Chapter Three
The dam was only about ten miles away, half an hour by horse, the man in tan told him. Of course if what they said was true, they didn't have half an hour. They may not have ten minutes even. Tor got the man to point
