The girl cried out in pain. “My wrist! Milord, please.”

  He released her quickly. “I forget my strength now and then. Is it broken?” Before she could pull away, he caught her hand, gently this time. The girl hissed in pain at the light touch, but he ignored her pain. Using a quick spell and a light touch, he made sure the bone was intact. “It’s just bruised,” he said soothingly, adding another spell to speed healing and prevent swelling or discoloration. “Return to your duties. I’ll answer the door. Don’t disturb the baroness.”

  The maid curtseyed quickly and fled. Will resumed his journey to the front hall and exited quickly. Sure enough, when he got to the street gate, he found the leader of the thugs who had waylaid him earlier in the day. Opening the gate, he stepped out to talk to the man.

  “Burman says he’ll meet with you, milord, but not here.”

  Will scanned the street with his eyes. “I expected as much. Where is he?”

  “I don’t know. He’ll meet you tomorrow at—”

  He grabbed the other man’s wrist and squeezed. Unlike what had happened with the maid, this time he was deliberate, and he didn’t let up until a sickening ‘pop’ sounded. The thug shrieked briefly, but managed to clench his teeth to keep from being too loud. Will observed the reaction and took note. “He’s here, watching, no? Likely waiting to see if you’re arrested or taken inside for more coercion. Where is he?”

  “I can’t…”

  “You will, and quickly, or else you’ll be dead, young man.” He kept his tone low. “I realize you don’t want to be known as a rat, but your boss will thank me later. Just bend your head in the proper direction, so I know which building to look toward. I really don’t want to kill you.” The thug tilted his head in one direction, and Will saw the opening to an alleyway near there. “The alley?” he asked.

  “Yes,” whimpered the ruffian.

  Will released him and started for the alley. After two steps, he summoned a force-based travel disk and sped across the distance. His form flickered and blurred as he went, making it difficult to see him. In the alley, he found his prey, already retreating even though they weren’t sure what was happening. Even though he was camouflaged, the men could see motion in the darkness and they started to scatter.

  Using the majority of his turyn, Will enclosed himself and the men within a force-dome that entirely filled a section of the alley. Then he released his other spells. He hardly had enough magic left to cast a single spell, but he wasn’t worried. They couldn’t kill him, and if he needed, their lives could be used to fuel his next spell. Now visible, he addressed them, “Which one of you is Burman?”

  Two of them answered immediately, “None of us. He isn’t here.”

  Will laughed. “That’s unfortunate then. I really wanted to offer him a job. Now I have to kill all of you instead.”

  “Wait!” begged a third man.

  “Are you Burman?” asked Will. When the criminal hesitated, he continued, “If you are, just say yes. If you aren’t, tell me who is, otherwise I’ll kill you now.”

  “It’s him.” The man pointed at one of his compatriots.

  Will had already marked that one by his higher quality boots. “Are you him? Answer quick. If you disagree, I’ll just kill all of you. I’m growing tired of playing with cowards.”

  “I’m Burman.” The gang boss’ voice held the unmistakable tones of fear.

  He smiled, then turned and drained some of the turyn from the man who had pointed out their leader. Weakened, the criminal sagged toward the ground, but when Will used the turyn he had taken to cast another spell on him, he began to scream. The thug’s cry cut short quickly as his ribs broke and tore through his lungs. He died in terrible pain, twitching and flopping on the ground.

  “There, that’s better,” announced Will to the horrified ruffians. “I dislike those who have no loyalty.” He turned back to Burman. “I have some questions for you.”

  The gang boss sank to his knees. “Yes, milord.”

  ***

  The bedroom door clicked softly as Will entered the room. It was dimly lit, with only a single candle to illuminate the interior. The bed was empty, and he could see Selene sitting at her dressing table. She turned and looked at him. “What took you so long?”

  “I had business to take care of,” he answered mildly, his eyes taking note of her attire. Selene was dressed in loose trousers and a shirt. The clothes looked easy to move in, but there was a certain stiffness about her torso. He guessed it was some sort of armor. “I thought you’d be in bed already.”

  “Where is my husband?” she replied in a voice made of ice.

  Will sighed. “I knew you’d be trouble, but I still hoped I could fool you for a while. What gave it away?”

  “A dozen things,” she answered, “but the deciding fact was when you didn’t know that I don’t have a limnthal yet.”

  “Ahh,” he said mildly. He gestured to the sword beside her hand on the table. It had been faintly disguised by a gown draped over it. “Are you thinking you’ll kill me with that?”

  “It’s steel,” she replied, watching his face. A second later she added, “But you’re not fae, are you?”

  “You weren’t sure?” Will sneered. “There aren’t many other options. Why didn’t you call for aid? If you suspected me, then you probably knew you couldn’t face me alone.”

  “Where is my husband?” she reiterated.

  “Doing the work he was born to do. The question, my dear, is what work you were born to do. You impressed me today. Your intellect is well trained. Apparently even a dragon can raise excellent children, despite their usual methods. The real question is whether your magical potential will live up to your pedigree, but I can determine that rather quickly.”

  He took a step forward, but Selene bolted upright, uncovering the sword and holding it in front of her. “Don’t take another step,” she warned.

  “You’re afraid of me?” He laughed. “Yet earlier you kept trying to hold my hand.”

  “Your appearance is some sort of illusion, isn’t it?” Selene questioned him. “If someone were to touch you, they’d probably feel nothing more than bones.”

  “So, you do know who I am,” said the stranger wearing Will’s face. “Say it and I’ll tell you the truth.”

  “Grim Talek.”

  He nodded. “Correct. You’re wrong about the bones, however. This body is fresh and still alive. Rather than using illusion, I mold the flesh to match my target. It makes it much harder to spot than an active piece of spellcraft.” His eyes studied the weapon in her hands. “The spell on that blade is something special. Is it the same as the one your husband used in Darrow?” He took another step closer.

  “Stop,” she warned again.

  “You can’t kill me with that sort of thing. You’ll only destroy this house and yourself with it.”

  “It’ll destroy your body, and the spell is designed to protect the user.”

  “But not your loved ones in the other rooms. How delicious. Did you design the spell?” he asked.

  Selene nodded. “It was William’s idea.”

  He waved a hand dismissively. “Ideas are cheap. Making them a reality is the hard part. Execution is everything, and so few have the skill necessary to create truly marvelous works. That being said, I still need to make sure you’re strong enough.”

  The air seemed to suddenly grow thick. Selene was familiar with the sensation. She’d encountered it frequently while sparring with Will. The lich’s will was suppressing her ability to manipulate turyn beyond the confines of her own body. That was one reason she’d prepared the spell on the sword beforehand. Using it would kill everyone in the house and possibly others near the house, but she had little choice. If she failed, the lich would have her, and with her he would have both Terabinia and Darrow. It sickened her to think of the innocent deaths, so she didn’t.

  She was a queen, and one thing took priority over everything else, the safety of her nation. Flipping the blade over, she drove it down toward the floor. She couldn’t be sure of hitting her opponent, but she didn’t really need to. The explosion would take care of everything. Something flew at her face, and she blocked it with a point defense shield while driving the blade down.

  And then she found herself flying backward. Invisible restraints bound her wrists and ankles. In a flash, she realized her mistake. She had blocked something the lich had thrown, and he had used the same moment to cast a different force-effect spell. Something else struck her hand, and the blade fell from fingers that were suddenly numb. Barely an instant later, she found herself pinned spread-eagle against the wall.

  The lich had even caught the sword before it fell to the floor, not that it would have done anything. She had designed the spell with numerous safeguards. It could only be activated while the hilt was clasped in hand. Grim Talek examined the blade for a moment, then stored the sword within his limnthal. “I’ll devote some time to studying it later,” he announced calmly. Lifting his other hand, he sent a wave of flames at Selene’s helpless form.

  She blocked it with a hemisphere made of force, one of the spells she had prepared earlier. The lich shook his head, then sent out a web of grey threads that covered the force spell and gradually melted it. Selene stared at them in horror. In less than a minute, her spell was gone. “Let’s try that again,” said the lich. A fresh wave of flames roared toward her.

  Selene stopped that one with a force-dome. Grim Talek seemed somewhat exasperated as he methodically destroyed that as well. “Any more surprises?” he asked. “If you’ve learned to reflex cast that spell, this may become tedious.”

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t gotten to that point yet. The point-defense spell was the only defensive spell she had gotten good enough with to do such a thing. When the third wave of flames came at her, that was all she had to defend herself. It wasn’t enough, and the fire washed over and around the small shield. The world flashed orange, but Selene felt no pain.

  Seconds later, she opened her eyes. The wood paneling around her was scorched, but her skin, her clothes, even her hair were untouched. She glared at her enemy. “Are you tormenting me?”

  The lich shrugged. “Not at all.” He moved forward until his face was inches from hers. “I wanted to see if your resistance was properly developed. You took so long to adjust to the third compression that I had some concerns. It appears my worries were unfounded.”

  Her eyes widened. “That was a test? What if I failed to resist the spell?”

  “You’d have been burned alive. Don’t ask silly questions.”

  She recovered quickly. “If you aren’t planning to kill me, how long do you intend to keep me pinned to the wall like this?”

  “Until you satisfy me—”

  Before he could continue, Selene interjected, “I have no intention of doing so.”

  The lich smirked. “I am primarily concerned with two things, neither of which involve your physical charms, such as they are. I need to be certain you’ll work with me and that you’ll make a satisfactory ruler.”

  Her eyes grew hard. “My loyalty lies with the people of Terabinia and Darrow. If you intend to use threats to pervert that duty to your own ends, go ahead and kill me now. I won’t cooperate.”

  Grim Talek laughed. “Such a noble stand, but it ignores the fact that I don’t actually need you, Your Majesty. I can take your place as easily as I did your husband’s. Rather than being so adversarial, it might behoove you to listen and answer my questions. It will get you off that wall sooner.” Selene’s lips pressed together into a firm line, but she didn’t reply. He continued, “What’s more important to you, personal happiness or your kingdom?”

  “I already answered that a moment ago, if you were listening. My life is secondary.”

  “Humans are strange creatures. Often their happiness conflicts with their own best interests, so the question still stands. Actually, let me rephrase it. If your husband were dead and I was responsible, would you work with me if it was the only way to safeguard your nation?”

  Selene’s reaction was nearly invisible, but the lich saw a hint of shock pass across her features. “How did he die?”

  “It shouldn’t matter,” said the lich. “But for the sake of argument, let’s say I slowly tortured him to death.”

  “If you were hoping to get my willing cooperation, why would you do such a thing?”

  “Imagine he was in your shoes right now. You know how stubborn he is. Assume he refused to cooperate under any conditions and I eventually decided to torture him. When that failed, I put an end to him.”

  Mouth dry, Selene swallowed, then asked, “This is just a hypothetical?”

  Grim Talek leaned close, mocking her with the face of her beloved. “It’s quite real. Knowing what I’ve done, and knowing it’s the only way to keep your country safe, what would you do?”

  She blinked, then answered, “I would do what was necessary.”

  “And?”

  “And eventually I’d find a way to remove your existence from this world, once I knew of a safe way to do so.”

  “So Terabinia comes before revenge?”

  Not trusting herself to speak, Selene nodded, angry eyes glaring at her tormentor, promising death. A moment later the spell restraining her vanished, and she slid down the wall to land on her feet. She remained still, and the lich studied her silently for several seconds before summoning the sword she had threatened him with and handing it back.

  The deadly spell she had placed upon it was still intact. Jaw clenching, Selene put the sword back on the dressing table. “Explain what you think is so important that I would cooperate with something like you,” she stated firmly. “I’m still not convinced.”

  The lich laughed again. “Before that, I should tell you. Your husband is healthy and hale, or was when I saw him last. I won’t say he is safe, but if he dies it won’t be because of my actions.”

  Some of the color returned to her face, and she responded with a lie. “I knew it was a bluff.”

  No, my dear, you didn’t, thought the lich, which makes your answer all the more remarkable. He looked forward to working with her.

  Chapter 20

  Governor Nerrow, the man King Lognion had put in charge of rebuilding Darrow, rode at the head of a massive column of soldiers. The war was over, but given the doings of late it hardly felt like it. Behind him was the vanguard of Second Division, and beside him rode two other officers, Commander Hargast and Commander Gravholt.

  Aaron Gravholt had been the marshal in charge of Darrow’s defense during the recent war, but he had taken service with Terabinia after his defeat. Though most would frown on such a move, those who followed him knew he had made the move with the best interest of his countrymen at heart. The nation’s old leader, the Patriarch, had brought ruin to Darrow in the form of a demon invasion in a last-ditch effort to win the war.

  Thus far, the Terabinian occupation had gone well. The people simply wanted to be done with war so they could get on with living. It was hard to plant crops with armies marching through and fighting battles, and in the absence of crops, famine would follow.

  Thankfully, the campaign Will had prosecuted against the Patriarch had been relatively brief and efficient, with a minimum of destruction, except for the capital itself. Mark Nerrow had expected his time as governor to consist mainly of rebuilding the ruined part of the city, as well as the installation of the new teleportation beacon to link the great city of Myrsta with its ancient sister, Cerria. That’s exactly what he would have been doing, if an entire village hadn’t vanished.

  Vanished wasn’t quite the right word, though. The buildings remained, mostly intact, though some had been badly damaged, with doors ripped from their hinges or occasionally with entire walls smashed in. It was the people and livestock that were missing. Something had snatched them from their homes despite barred doors and stout walls. Most disturbingly, a few remains were found, a half-gnawed foot and a partial head. Both showed the marks of large teeth and claws on them.

  Some believed it to be the work of scavengers, wolves or bears in particular, but most knew better. Whatever had taken the people hadn’t just taken them, it had eaten some of them, and if any were still alive, they were probably being saved for later. The remaining people in the region were hardy folk, but they were on the verge of panic.

  The village had served as a market hub for the outlying farmers, and having it effectively vanish left them feeling vulnerable. If it could happen to so many, what chance did the small holders have?

  Mark Nerrow knew the truth: none at all. Over the course of the past week, he’d confirmed his suspicions. Some of the trolls his son had used in the war with Darrow remained. They were multiplying, and in the absence of older trolls to teach them, they were little more than feral beasts.

  Commander Gravholt had already hunted down a few lone trolls, with mixed results. The first they had cornered in a small ravine, with disastrous results. The creature had killed nearly fifty men before they managed to subdue it and burn the remains. Needless to say, that hadn’t been good for morale. The second hunt had gone better. The patrols included sorcerers armed with force-cage spells, and they’d tracked and caught the second troll with solid planning. None had died, and only one had been injured that time.

  Subsequent hunts had been unfruitful, and Governor Nerrow had hoped that perhaps the last troll had been caught, until Cotswold had been stripped of its inhabitants. Fearing the worst, he’d brought half a division, more than two thousand men, to scour the surrounding area. He was no expert on trolls, but he’d seen them in action during the war. If some of them had begun operating in groups, it would be no laughing matter.

  Armed and prepared, his soldiers could deal with one or two, but if a pack of trolls tore through the lines, he wasn’t sure if any number of men could stop them. Panic would ensue, and in the chaos that followed, the nearly unkillable monsters would become practically unstoppable.

  Commander Gravholt chose that moment to speak up, “We should stop and make camp, Governor.”