“Melanie?” Thaddeus wasn’t sure what was going on.
There was another creak from the door. He turned back to it just as it burst, showering the hallway with shards of wood. He cried out and threw his arms over his face, too late to avoid several cuts and scratches.
A large chunk caught him in the stomach and he bent forward, the air driven from his lungs.
Drawing in a long, rasping breath, he looked up.
Malachi stood on the other side of the shattered door, his eyes gleaming with rage, his fists clenched at his sides.
He growled, and Thaddeus felt pain flare through his body, worse than the last time he had been disciplined.
With effort, he raised his hand, focused and summoned up a wall of flame between the two of them, pushing it toward Malachi as rapidly as he could. The pain vanished, and he heard Malachi curse from inside the room.
Then, the flame was gone like it had never been. Thaddeus dug deep, summoning up a ball of intense heat that he could throw. Let it burn a hole right through Malachi and deal with the consequences later.
The orb of flame flickered into life, heat waves rising above it and then, it too disappeared.
“You…” Malachi’s voice was rough. He was shaking in fury as he stared at Thaddeus. “You… you!”
Thaddeus couldn’t reach his magic. It was like the day Melanie cut him off from it, only more complete.
The pain came back. Thaddeus’s body went rigid, cords standing out in his neck as his back arched. Malachi gestured, and a cut opened across his stomach. Another gesture, and another wound, this time in his right arm. Then his right cheek, his left leg. A particularly violent motion and Thaddeus felt two toes on his left foot get severed.
All the while, he could do nothing but hang there as Malachi cut him open again and again. His screams echoed through the corridors.
Eventually, Thaddeus didn’t know how much longer, Malachi stopped. He stepped in front of Thaddeus, breathing heavily and staring into his eyes.
“It’s just starting,” he growled. Then he pulled his arm back and punched Thaddeus square in the face.
He was released and collapsed to the floor. He could hear others coming but didn’t pay much attention to it.
In front of him lay Melanie. Her eyes were open, but she wasn’t seeing him, or anything at all.
Chapter 42
Cursing under her breath, Shireen reined her horse to the side and let the column pass by. At the end, she rode between the same two scouts she spoke to earlier in the journey home.
“Names,” she spat.
“Nicolas,” one said immediately. Even that sounded insolent, with a hint of daring her to make something of it.
The other sat quietly on his horse, staring straight ahead.
“I said… name!” Shireen said.
When the scout still didn’t answer, or even look at her, Shireen guided her horse into his path, forcing him to stop. He still avoided her eyes.
“You have one more chance,” she told him, her voice pitched for his ears alone.
Finally, he turned to her. “Thomas.”
His voice sounded dead, like he didn’t care that he told her or what she would do with it. His expression was completely blank, as well.
“I don’t know what’s going on with the two of you,” she said, “but it will not stand. When we get back to Towering Oaks, you’ll report to your commander. Are we clear?”
“Sure,” Nicolas said. Thomas merely nodded, once more gazing off into the surrounding woods.
She glared at them both for a moment longer, then spurred her horse forward, taking her place at the front again.
♦ ♦ ♦
“Huh, that’s really strange,” Orlando said.
They were seated at the table in their quarters, finishing supper and a bottle of deep red wine.
“I know both of them, and they’ve always been good scouts. Not outstanding, at least by our standards, but they could go to any other House and run rings around theirs. Including Glittering Birch.”
“Especially these days,” Shireen said. “You should have seen the place. It was horrible. Filth everywhere. Staff not doing their jobs, or doing them with outright insolence. And Jamshir didn’t even seem to notice, to say nothing of poor Bragnold.”
“Poor Bragnold? Since when is he deserving of sympathy.”
Shireen shrugged. “You had to see him. He was a worthy general at one time, almost as capable as Jediah, which is saying something. He served his House with dignity and honor, and now…”
“Now… not,” Orlando said.
“More than that. Whatever happened to him left him a shell. He moves when Jamshir tells him to. Otherwise, he stands there staring and drooling. Like his mind is gone.”
“I guess you’re right. Still, I have a hard time forgiving him for his role in their attack on our House. And an even harder time sympathizing.”
“Like I said.” Shireen took another sip of her wine. “You had to see him.”
Orlando sat quietly, then. “And Jamshir? What happened to him?”
“He’s mad. Completely gone. He’s living in a world of his own, and even thinks the story of Solomon defeating that Soul Gaunt years ago is about him. Flaming sword and all.”
“Could it be an act?”
Shireen thought back. It could be, certainly. But Jamshir would have to be a better actor than he ever gave any indication of being if that was the case.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I think he really is crazy.”
“So his House is an extension of that.”
“I’m not so sure. It feels like more. Like something bigger is really wrong.”
“Sort of like that feeling in the woods when we first ran into the Soul Gaunts?”
They both shuddered at the memory of the fear
