Hostages, page 1
Crystals of Memory: Book Seven
Hostages
P.S. Power
Orange Cat Publishing
Copyright 2022
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Copyright Page
Chapter one
Chapter two
Chapter three
Chapter four
Chapter five
Chapter six
Chapter seven
Chapter eight
Chapter nine
Chapter ten
Chapter eleven
Chapter twelve
Chapter thirteen
Chapter fourteen
Chapter fifteen
Chapter sixteen
Chapter seventeen
Chapter eighteen
Chapter nineteen
Chapter twenty
Chapter twenty-one
Chapter twenty-two
Chapter twenty-three
Chapter one
The hard seeming man, dressed in dirt smudged work clothing, glared at Anders. It wasn’t actually a promise of violent action, but there was a clear disdain in the action. A rough thing that seemed annoyed to find someone interfering with his day.
“You come to...” There was a rough lift of the shoulders. Those were heavy with muscle, even if the fellow had seen at least five, maybe six, decades of life. His hair was gone on the top, and the sides were gray and long. Well-kept and combed, however. “To... Marry my daughter, Ezola?”
There was no particular smile being hidden, or the suggestion that Anders had better leave off and not dare to think of such a thing. Even if it was understandable. He simply had to look strange to the man.
On a horse, a light, well cared for one, that was very much of the type young noble men and women rode. Then, so did rich merchants. He had a spare beast with him as well, loaded with goods. Mainly food, though it was hard to tell what was in his canvas packs. Those were clean, and tidy, made using magic, which showed as quality no doubt, as the older fellow glanced toward them.
Sizing him up.
His clothing was simple, made of canvas, but in bright colors, with decorative embroidery on the front of his loose shirt. That shone lightly, in the early morning light. Even in Istlan, the south western portion, it was going to be warm that day, so he didn’t have a cloak on. He did have one, packed away, since the nights on the road could be cool. It was light, compared to what he’d need in the winter months.
“No, sir. As delightful as that sounds, I’m here for a different reason. I’m Anders Brolly? Prince Robarts sent me out to put up the new roads, repair the old and gift anyone with land with a glass house complex for winter farming, if they wish it.” He nearly went into a further explanation, getting ready for the man to spit, when he heard about the use of magic, which he normally never bothered to mention in the first moments.
Not any longer. It had taken a few such incidents for him to not do that, however.
The rough looking man cleared his throat.
“Oh? Anders Brolly...” He nodded, slowly. “The one put in as the headmaster of the new magical university, over near Matty’s place?” There was a gruff smile then, as if Anders wouldn’t understand what he was getting at.
That, for some reason, this man was the type to refer to the King of Istlan as Matty, instead of Matheus. The hard looking man turned a bit, to look at the stone keep in the background, which was fine looking, being an actual castle, if smaller than the King’s. It was a wealthy seeming place, over all, truly.
Instead of demanding proper respect for the King, Anders nodded, his face held in a pleasant fashion. Rough the man might have been, but half the time, over the last weeks and months, he’d been met with armed guards, holding spears and swords on him, when he rode up to various places.
This was an improvement. The man hadn’t even called him a liar, making claims to things that couldn’t be true, yet.
“That’s me, indeed! May I have your name, sir?” The man was dressed like a stable master, or a minor lord, readying for rough, filthy work, instead of anyone important.
Farad, the memory of that old historian, had taught Anders to be polite to everyone, thankfully. He’d ridden up and seen an old duffer with a spade, and treated him as if he were the lord of the castle in the background, thanks to that.
Meaning he wasn’t left having to beg for forgiveness when the man spoke.
“I’m Donnelly Caldas. Duke Caldas. Matheus is my little cousin. Not that he’s that young, any longer. None of us are. I was just about to see to the kitchen garden. The main cook has taken ill. Wonderful woman, Evie, but getting along in years now.” The man glared at Anders slightly then, seeming ready to bark at him, if he got too snooty over the idea of a Duke doing humble work to back up an ill servant. As if that wasn’t proper, which was a silly thing to think, if he was. The man was a Duke. If he chose to work in a garden, then it was literally his right.
Instead, Anders got off his horse.
Speaking as he did it.
“What are her symptoms?” He paused. “I’ll need to tie the girls here off, then we should see to her, if that’s allowable? It’s magic, but... If you summoned me, to see to her...” It was grasping at straws, but a lot of people in Istlan would die, instead of allowing a magical healing, fearing that sort of thing too much to trust at all.
The older man looked puzzled for a moment, then grinned.
“Well, you are family, if an off git. Alpert’s your father, right? I heard he went past the laws we hold to here and named you as his own, out in Yanse? That still counts, as far as I know. This way, then, nephew.”
Anders nodded, the man showing him where to store his horses, leaving them with the packs on, since they were in a hurry. When they went inside the castle, to find the head cook, the woman was in a good, sturdy room, being attended by a younger woman. One who looked to be about seventeen or so. She was in a sturdy dark colored gown, but one that was clearly a mark of her status. It had a fine cut and good stitching, at least.
“Father? She’s burning with fever. I think it’s getting worse. I’ve mopped her brow and placed cold compresses on her chest, but it isn’t working.”
There was a soft groaning from the bed. From the look of it, that was filled with feathers, not straw or something less refined. The room was plain, but well appointed, with wall hangings, and an open window, that had bubbled white glass in it, allowing some light in, so the place wasn’t a true cave. There were heavy, red painted, shutters on the inside.
In the bed, seeming miserable, was a woman who, despite the words, wasn’t ancient at all. Indeed, she was younger than the Duke, by at least ten, possibly twenty years. She was also covered in a sheen of sweat, and breathing in a rapid, and shallow fashion.
The younger woman, who had braided black hair, and pale skin, looked at Anders then, her eyes going slightly wide.
“I, forgive me, but... Who are you?”
He could have said a thousand things. The words weren’t rude, though they seemed skeptical, which could be taken the wrong way. Then, he was a young, thin man, in fine enough clothing to seem strange, in a sick room. She had a right, in her own space, to know who was there, of course. To protect herself and the ill woman.
He didn’t fit, which meant she needed to take care, naturally.
Instead of waiting to be formally introduce, he simply nodded.
“I’m your cousin, Andy. The healer. This will take some magic, if that isn’t too fearful for you, ma’am?” He spoke directly to Evie, who blinked at him for a moment, her lips moving several times before sound came out.
“You’ll curse me?”
He shook his head then, recalling that he hadn’t bothered to bow to anyone there, so far. He didn’t then, either.
“You know, I don’t even know a single curse? Some other things, which are useful, but nothing like that. Would it be well with you if I use some varied magics? The worst that will happen is nothing.” He didn’t shrug, but waited, for an actual answer.
Still, it was a bit shocking when she shuddered, seeming cold, not afraid.
“Please, Lord Healer. I cannot pay much...” She coughed a bit, as the Duke rose up, clearly ready to offer to handle that part of things.
Anders shook his head.
“Oh, you see, I’m related to the Duke here, if in a minor fashion, so he has me in to work for free. It’s a privilege of being related to the King, but there you have it. Here, I’ll need to look inside of you, using wizardry?”
That got a nod, the woman not that concerned that he might find her greatest secrets that way. Those, as it turned out, had to do with how to prepare about a hundred varied dishes. Some of the information did hit him, since she was thinking of them suddenly, even as he ignored it, almost instantly.
What he found inside the woman was interesting enough. A growth, in her middle, that was about the size of his own fist. Dark tendrils spread from it, corrupting the flesh, replacing it with a fast-growing mass that moved throughout her body.
He’d seen several things like it before, so nodded. The trick was that, in the mix was an area of corruption as well. An infection, filled with puss. Technically, this woman was dying in front of him. From two separate causes.
Nodding, he muttered, softly.
“Homa ina, swerla, indict, ere ot ere, fen ot-” He left it open ended. There was danger in that, if he needed to hold it for too long, but in that case, if he was pressed too hard to bear, he could drop it.
The woman gasped, her eyes going wide, almost instantly.
“My! That is... Much better. Thank you.”
She didn't try to get up, at least, for once. No one acted as if he was done, either, which was good. Rare, too. Most of the time, when the pain fell back, along with the swelling and inflammation, people tried to jump up, feeling so much improved.
He winked at the woman, then looked at the younger lady.
“Would it be possible to get an old bucket, or one that isn’t used for food and water?” He waited, since that, asking a noble woman for anything, could be taken the wrong way.
Not that he expected it to be, given the fact that the woman, whoever she was, had been tending to Evie in her own person. A daughter of the Duke, but a name hadn’t been given, so he didn't assume she was Ezola. Not out loud. Even if he was certain it was her. Instead of scolding him, or even acting impressed with his magic, she spun in place, and moved out of the room, quickly.
He fixed the woman in the bed, with a look, then.
“You’re dying.”
The words had the woman taking a deep, slow breath.
“Aye. I know that. I still am, even if the pain is gone. I can feel my time closing. Still, moving on without pain is better than suffering as it happens. Thank you, Andy. Lord Healer.”
He waved that part away.
“I still have to earn that part. The Lord Healer title? Which, if you’ll allow, I can do. This isn’t without risk, but I can remove the darkness growing inside of you. The infection as well. The problem here is that it’s so much of your body right now that taking it away might leave you passing from simply doing that. If we leave it... Well, you have some weeks, most likely. The first is a risk, but might work. It also might not.” That part was simply a thing he didn't have a trick for.
If too much of her body was removed, she would die, of course. He simply didn't know if the woman was in that state, to be honest. It was close.
She chuckled, clearly expecting it to hurt. It didn’t, of course.
The Duke looked away, his face hard. His mouth closed tightly, not telling the woman what to do.
She smiled, gently, then.
“I don’t know what to do. Cherish my last days, or attempt to live on? I’ve had a good, long life, truly. My children are grown and husband is still young enough to find another woman, if I go. Then, all of that stays the same, either way. Will what you plan, will it hurt?”
Anders thought for a moment, even if he knew the answer.
“I can hold the pain away, but not forever. The truth is that it will hurt less, over time, but when I go away in some days, I won’t be able to do that for you, so if the healing is still going on, that might ache and be a discomfort. Not as bad as what you’ve been undergoing, but still, not an instant return to full health.”
That wasn’t the whole truth, but was close enough he didn’t feel bad about lying to her over it.
After some moments, the woman took a deep breath.
“Can I see Howard first?”
He had no clue who that was, guessing a child or the husband mentioned. Anders nodded.
“Certainly?”
He glanced at the Duke, who nodded, going to the door and calling out.
“Summon Howard Smallbore, to Evie’s sick room!”
It took a bit, and the black-haired girl came back with a sturdy, but old bucket, made of wood. There were cracks in it, on the side, but he simply took the thing, and muttered softly, repairing the wear of age, as they waited. Then, when Howard came, a man who was in the middle portion of his life, and seemed normal, in many ways, he left the room, the others doing that with him.
Instead of standing in the hallway, the older man, the Duke, waved for him to follow, and walked away. To an alcove with a stone bench built next to a large expanse of open holes in the wall. Those were slits, and after a moment, Anders understood the idea. It wasn’t meant to be a bench at all, it was a place for crossbowmen to stand, to shoot through the window if they were ever attacked.
Still, today it was a place to settle and wait. The morning light was streaming in, hitting the gray stone on the other side of the hallway. It was dark, and well shadowed in places, but also brilliant in others.
Ezola took a deep, shuddering, breath.
“Evie is planning her death?”
The older man took his daughter by the hand, and patted it, a little awkwardly, several times.
“The boy here thinks he might save her, but she might not survive the attempt. It’s the way of healing, at times. She makes herself ready, just in case. Without this, she dies anyway, so...”
There was a tightening of the lips from the woman, and closed eyes, as she fought tears.
“We must do what we can, then. Thank you, Andy. I didn’t know I had a relative coming to visit? Especially one so accomplished in the mystical arts. That’s not normal, is it?”
Instead of taking insult, he nodded. For Istlan, it truly was well outside of what most would do. He was, in general, strange.
“It isn’t normal, yet. We’re starting a college of magic, so it will become common, soon enough. In some decades. Right now, I’m traveling and repairing the western roads, while putting up some buildings and glass house farms, so food can be grown in the winter.” He grinned then, hoping it was charming and not dark or brooding.
The truth is, he didn’t know what his face did, most of the time. He’d rarely seen it, after all. It felt like a smile, and no one seemed ready to stab him over it, so he hoped it was fine enough that way.
“Sorry, my lady, but we weren’t introduced?” He stood then, and bowed, using first courtly. Normally he’d use the flirtatious bow, but the truth was, he thought that both of these people might actually be blood relations.
Meaning he should have used the familiar version, except that, of course, he was just meeting them. The woman bobbed back, but the older fellow stood, and bowed back, his form good, for all he’d seemed rough at times, before.
“This is my daughter, Ezola Caldas. My fifth child.”
Anders smiled at her.
“I’m Anders Brolly.” They seemed to simply be using personal names, not titles, so going with that seemed correct.
The woman frowned at him then, skeptically.
“You’re the mighty warrior, called War Bow? That seems unlikely, doesn’t it?”
It really did, so he nodded.
“True. I have been called that, however. Other things as well. Not all of them as polite. Now, not to hurry anyone along, but when Evie is prepared, we should see to her repair? This is dangerous, but...” He shrugged, trying not to seem uncaring, even if a large part of him felt that way. There was concern, for various factors, of course.
Fear of failing, and looking bad. A concern from the Farad portion of himself, that Anders was being too callus and hard seeming, as well. The truth was, he didn't care in particular if Evie lived or died. She wasn’t a friend of his, and while it might aid him to curry favor with these new people, he didn’t really need to do that, in particular.
At the same time, he wanted to feel that way. Worried that the sick woman would never be well, and concerned about what people thought of him. Anders, truly, didn’t want to be evil, so fought against that, with his actions. To that end, he reviewed what would be needed, when the work came, so that he wouldn’t harm the woman, or let her die if it wasn’t her time.
As he took care of that, he went silent, falling into a trance. The others did much the same, not speaking, at least. Finally, some hour and a half later, a crying Howard walked to them, the man in humble seeming brown clothing, with a face that spoke of living outdoors, much of the time.
“She is ready. I... Forgive my weakness.”
Anders, feeling awkward, put out a hand and touched the man on the shoulder.
“It is not weak to cry for one you love. This isn’t over yet, however. I will...” He shook his head then, very slowly. “Forgive me, I’ve been reviewing what will be needed, in a trance. Let me see to this now?”
He stood then, and promptly, not realizing what was happening, walked into a stone wall. Not hard, but it wasn’t trying to attack him, he simply had closed his eyes again. He could see Evie, in front of him, the inside of her, in fact, but not much else.
A firm hand took him by the arm then, and led him. It wasn’t until he was in the room that he realized it was Donnelly who had aided him. He stood by the bed, arranged the wooden bucket, and carefully began to chant spells.
