other attacks were planned or going on at that moment? Tor still shook as Sara watched him closely. Like she was waiting for him to weaken so she could pounce. That's what it felt like. It wasn't fair of him to think that way though.
At the door of the dining room the guard became far more stubborn and wouldn't let them past. Jerk. Doing his job too well and all that… Tor just started yelling at the top of his lungs.
“Attack on Ward, Attack on Ward! Larval assassins. Larval assassins. Prisoners taken. Prisoners taken. Attack on Ward, Attack on Ward!” He kept going until the guard, freaking out a bit, if in a subdued, Royal Guardly fashion, opened the door so the people inside could hear him. Tor felt like a moron, but kept yelling at the top of his lungs anyway. His pride could take the knock of looking stupid.
A male voice, larger, deeper and louder than his own, boomed, “Situation report!”
Tor shorthanded it first, all alive, the Larval assassins, numbering seven, taken prisoner. The Countess Ward possibly incoming to capital with non-hostile… Tor didn't have a word for it. Group? Cohort? Team? It all sounded too military for a bunch of refugees fleeing attack.
“Retinue.” Sara added helpfully.
“Right. That's Sara Debri, one of the spies you set to watch me, oh, this is Tor. I'll let her talk now.” His voice still shook, worse now that he could relax and turn things over to more responsible people.
The blond next to him stared, and couldn't speak for a second, her mouth working, but nothing came out. Tor blinked and then put it together, he'd openly announced her as one of the King’s spies. Didn't she know he knew? Really? He would have laughed, but found he just couldn't. Shock, probably. He felt cold and light everything was buzzing under his skin, just a little.
Then, on command of the King, she told them everything. Tor felt sick again thinking about how they'd cut off the attackers arms and legs, but no sound came from the device when she'd said it. Then, much like Kenner had done, Tor carried his communication plate down so that Smythe and Count Ward could participate. Trice did too, and no one questioned her involvement. She was just one of “those” people when it came down to it. If she ran up to you and yelled situation report, you gave her one without question. If she sat in on a big meeting, people handed her paper and pens and then assumed she belonged. It was like a power of hers.
The legs and arms were gone, and as one the Larval were trying to use their torsos like worms to get away. Bunching up and then pushing out, little bits of ground covered at a time. It was both ridiculous and extremely frightening. If someone cut all his limbs off he'd have been crying like a little child, and probably soiling himself. It had been a close thing with their missing arms and legs almost making him do that.
What kind of maniacs were they? How did you train people to shrug off something like that? Count Ward kept walking over and dragging them back, one by one, to the staging area. He didn't laugh about it, or even smile. Nor was he cruel. No kicks, no blows. He didn't even threaten, he just grimly worked and kept them from making good their escape. Over and over again. It was, frankly, a lot more discipline than Tor had expected to see after they'd threatened to kill his wife. At the time the man had certainly looked ready to rush in and kill all of them that he could to save her.
Of course, if the Count had done that, she'd be dead.
If Tor, wearing his full shield and armed as he'd been had tried, the same thing would have happened. The Larval had secured the position too well and were too fast. Now if everyone had been shielded properly, they could have invited the Larval in for drinks and talked things out peaceably. Tor almost made himself smile, but that would be wrong, wouldn't it? The men trying to crawl away would think he mocked them. They all wore black and deep red clothing in a similar style, but one distinctly Noram. Tunic and pants. Or, well, shorts and vests now. Not that Tor was an expert on Austran styles, but they almost had to be different, didn't they? Their system was based on technology, not magic. It had to influence things. If they were all this one guy, no wonder they were attacking though.
They'd want Noram's women if nothing else.
It was decided that all of them would come to the Capital immediately. Given it would take hours for a transport to come and it was night already they'd just have to hold out till the morning. Not that anyone else would be coming to get them or anything silly like that, but just in case, it was decided they should go to a random location and hide. When the King said it Count Ward bristled a little.
“Why should we hide? They sent their best forces, and lost. To a single, naked, unarmed man. I doubt they'll come back looking for more in the same way soon. I wouldn't. This is… dismal your highness. These men should have been dispatched not… Crippled. It's on me, I know that, I rule here and take full responsibility for it, but still, it's not something I want to tell my children about.” The words were heartfelt and correct to the situation, but telling the royal family, including their daughter, pregnant by him that was not the best idea. No one started yelling, but Tor covered the silence.
“Right. I'll handle it. If you see the transport driver send them with a communications device so we known when they're getting in? I have a few that just have a random sigil there, in the cabinet under the main device in the audience room? Use one of those and let me know which one?” That got agreement, which didn't sound too confused, so Tor pointed in a direction and kept doing it.
It turned out to be north-east. Taking nothing but some servants and people from the party, about twenty of them, and his personal trunks. His stuff was ready, since he hadn't unpacked really, knowing that he'd be leaving any day. They walked out of town in groups of five. Most of the estates people had left with Sorlee and Maria, or they'd run away like they were supposed to when the whole thing had happened. Brilliant of them. If he'd lost they'd be alive still. Really, everyone should have fled. Luckily it had all worked out, but what if it hadn't?
Trice would have killed them all.
Right.
That didn't explain the others though. Stupid warrior instincts kicking in probably. Morons. Smythe had stayed and he didn't even have a shield on at all. No weapons and only one hand. Brave? Sure, but foolish.
Oh, Tor got it. It made sense in a way even.
The man, all of the people that had stayed, were planning on spending their own lives to try and stall the Larval like Tor had done, to let the others get away if possible. Again, his own lack of trust in people had made that way more dangerous than it should have been.
Using floating box amulets Tor made carrying units for the Larvals. It probably wasn't all that comfortable for them, not having padding inside, but it wasn't torture either. The ride was smooth and no one dropped, kicked or spit on them. A few of the younger serving men, about Tor's own age, made fun of them, mainly hitting on the fact that they were crippled now, had lost, and to a single man who wasn't even all that big or anything. Tor moved closer to say something about dignity, but the Count got there first, speaking softly.
“We of Ward treat people who have fallen in battle with respect. Always.” He didn't add more, and didn't sound angry. No one said anything to the assassins again as they walked. The guilty parties just looked down and nodded.
There was no destination in mind, so Tor just found a spot a few miles out of town and set up two magical houses. They looked like hovels on the outside and had no windows. Dirt brown on dirt brown with a touch of green and gray for authenticity. It would have to do, since without light he couldn't see to do better and Smythe assured him that using bright lights would show an air strike exactly where they were. The insides were empty boxes with single person beds, one for each person and restrooms at the back. That was all. Tor gave out amulets for nearly everything, to everyone, except the new weapons, since he didn't have any more. He did have force lances though, so they all got one of those. Royals, stable boys and dancing girls. No one got left out. Except for the Larval. Tor even handed a pile of amulets to Smythe, who took the with a nod, but didn't say anything.
He picked a bed in the back left corner and went straight to sleep, shield on. When he woke it was morning, the light coming through the door made that clear. Sara called out that the transport was coming and would be to hand in about twenty minutes or so. The blond didn't look like she'd slept at all, fresh dark circles under her eyes and pale skin along with slightly matted hair. For that matter, it didn't seem like almost anyone one had slept. Except him, apparently. He'd just gone out. Probably from the trauma and level of energy the healing took.
Tor brushed his teeth without water, which left his mouth feeling gritty and filled with cloying cinnamon, but the regular habit made him feel better anyway. There was no water around so they just waited and packed up without washing. The Larvals had been in the other hut, but it wouldn't have mattered to Tor.
At least he tried to claim so to himself.
In reality it made a huge difference once he thought about it. The idea of one crawling on him and biting his
