and triggering combat rage. That, in the end, was all it really was too. It was just that doing that wasn't as simple as it sounded apparently. At least it was pretty.
The sigil was a green and purple dragon that glowed in the air, inside a clear disk made of pure thought. The effect was stunning. The dragon moved and looked at you when you stared at it, purple eyes flashing and uselessly small wings flapping gently at nearly random times. There was no chain or string to hang it by, since it wasn't real. It felt real, like a smooth hard disk of stone, but it would simply stay where it was placed. On Trice at least.
Tor didn't have any amulets left on at all, which meant, he realized abstractly, that he was sitting naked. That got a blink. Who put a person in a closet naked?
Princess Karina came to mind, but maybe that was unkind. Chuckling he saw that there was a real glass, a pitcher of water made of clay with pretty designs pained in rust red on the outside and an old style poison detector sitting next to it. The first thing he did was check the water and then drank it all. It was fresh, so hopefully that meant that someone was checking on him regularly? That would be good, because when he tried to call out only a very soft croak came forth. It would come back, once he started moving around and using it. Everything would. At least that had been what had happened in the past.
The biggest problem, other than the whole not being able to move thing, was the weeping sores all over his backside and legs. Eek. He'd heard of that, wounds from not moving for way to long, but the people that got them were almost always near death. That, Tor knew, wasn't the case here. The wait felt like it was long, but his sense of time was gone, so it may have been minutes or could have been days when Rolph opened the door and saw his open eyes. His friend didn't react much.
“Oh, opened your eyes again? I don't suppose your finished with that… whatever it is this time are you? I brought food again, think you can eat?”
“Yeah.” Tor croaked softly, then cleared his throat and tried for more. It was still just a croak, but neared a level that would be nearly conversational speech.
“Water would be good too, and clothes. How long was I out?”
Rolph started, literally jumping back with a small scream, then he rushed forward.
“Tor! God, gods and little fish! I thought you were dead! We've all been waiting for you to die… Gods!”
Agreement not to get to physical or not, Rolph hugged him and then smothered him with kisses, which was a bit off-putting. Plus it felt funny with the beard. The crying out from his giant friend got other people to come running, all of them looking grim at first, until they realized that the small naked Tor was actually awake. Not dead. He smiled, mainly hidden behind the thick black beard on his face.
“Hey everyone… Um, could I maybe have some clothes and my amulets? If they haven't been sold to pay my rent for this space I mean.” Tor glanced around the closet.
It made sense, not the rent part, but the closet. He was out of the way and if not comfortable, at least he had a little pad to sit on, which was actually made of shield material, so one that he'd made. Really, it should have kept him from having sores, being as soft as it was, so Tor must have been there for a while.
Even the King came in and promptly shut the door, leaving only Rolph and Tor inside the suddenly tiny space with him
“Alright there Tor?” The man said gently, as if speaking to a mad man.
“A little sore and tired. Hungry and thirsty. Other than that I'm fine, I think. Sorry about “leaving” like that. I needed to get something to help Trice. Where is she? I should take her this…” He tried to get up again and nearly made it on his own, actually standing when Rolph took most of his weight for him.
His friend held him steady and gasped when he saw what Tor held in his hand. The tiny dragon looked at him and fluttered, almost as if in recognition. It tilted it's head cutely.
“Gods… that's… is it responding to me?” Rolph touched the field, which caused the little fake creature to dodge first, then “attack” the big finger with its claws. It boxed at them though, like a human would, not scratching or trying to bite like an animal.
The King’s eyes went wide as well.
“Well, I'm sure that will help. She's been a little upset since the events of two months ago Tor. Locked herself in a room and won't come out actually. We've been watching her to make certain she doesn't harm herself, but other than that, well, she won't talk to anyone even. Something about her causing all the combat rage.” The man seemed questioning, his gaze didn't waiver.
Tor nodded back.
“Yeah. I think it's her battle aura honestly. When she gets scared or too mad it triggers other people into a rage. I figured it out when I finally noticed that she was always there when I went into one myself. Always. And each time she was focused on me and worried, scared or angry. That last time kind of confirmed it.”
The King grimaced and sighed, “we've, kind of feared that was the case. It happens occasionally, It's a Morgan family trait, but we weren't positive. Or well, probably trying to hope it wasn’t the case more than anything else.” Richard looked at his son and frowned.
“We'll have to sequester her then, for everyone’s safety. It's the only thing we can do now.”
Rolph looked shaken suddenly.
“For the rest of her life?” He spoke so quietly Tor almost couldn't hear him. The King could.
“Yes. I'm afraid so.”
Chapter Thirteen
Tor tried to snort in derision, but it came out sounding more like he was choking on his own saliva. Then he actually did, which got Rolph to pound him on the back for a minute while he recovered. Smooth.
“Sorry, where was I? Oh, yeah, that was supposed to be a sign of derision. As in to say, “don't be stupid.” Stopping that is what the device here is for. Obviously. What did you people think I was doing? Get me clothes and a Not-flyer? My new one I think? We'll go get her out of her room and then get to work on those murders, if Smythe hasn't already handled that? Two months, so…”
No one answered, which couldn't be good. They did both run to get his amulets, which were just sitting outside the door. Rolph explained that originally Tor's shield had been on and no one could get near him for days, since he was spraying combat aura so hard that half the palace had to be cleared. When that finally ended the Prince had managed to turn the shield off, after a day’s worth of trying, focusing from a distance, so they took all the amulets to keep that from happening again.
“Really, we had too, we just didn't know what all you had on, three amulets, but all of them had at least ten sigils and…” The red haired giant shrugged.
Hence the nakedness. Right. Tor grinned.
“Yeah, a bit of a flaw there. Anyway…” Triggering the Not-flyer Tor lifted gently, until he hung upright in the air, four inches above the ground, toes pointed down slightly. On this latest version of it, he didn't need a hand control at all, which was useful. It took focus to make it work, but not that much. He'd made it on vacation, kind of on a whim. Really, he could use the same field for flying rigs now too. The needed controls were almost the same. As an added benefit, this one would let him move up higher or float closer to the ground if he wanted.
“Not to be high handed, but if one of you could lead me to Trice please? I know, asking the King or Prince to take me around like errand boys… Still, it will speed things up a bit, yes?”
They walked quickly the other two stretching their long legs through the twists and turns of stone and wood corridors, coming to a small door that looked about six foot high. Tor would have thought it was the wood room for the fireplaces or something, not a place to keep a Ducherina. That turned out to be the case actually, which made him blink. Some kind of self-punishment?
Rolph knocked on the door loudly.
“Trice? Tor is awake! He's here, come out or we're breaking the door down finally and pulling you out. That means a repair bill and you know, my allowance has been cut what with the war build-up and all, so what do you say? Come out?” His voice sounded, happy enough at least.
From behind the small brown door the responding voice was petulant.
“Go away! It's not safe. I'll end up hurting someone. I'm a monster! Go away!” A single hard thump came from behind the door, wood on wood if Tor didn't miss it.
