Disciple of War Disciple of War (Art of the Adept #4) - Michael G. Manning Page 0,140

was dead!”

Minutes passed while men and elementals sifted through the stone debris, but predictably, no sign of Will’s body was found. He eventually emerged from the earth twenty feet away, and the light of the sun was welcome on his cheeks, even as muddled and diffuse as it was in the fog. Once again, he readjusted his vision to optimize it for the mist. Close by, he could see men working over the pile of rubble while Mark Nerrow tried to supervise. Coordination was difficult, since none of them could see one another once they got more than four feet away.

Messengers ran in now and then, looking for the sub-marshal to report the latest news and carry his orders to the various units. Will walked closer as the last of them ran off on the latest errand.

His father stood alone, hidden by the fog, and in his moment of solitude, Will saw the man’s shoulder’s bow and his hands reach up to cover his face. The older man’s body shook slightly, though no sound emerged. Surely, he isn’t… Will shook his head to clear it. No, that can’t be.

Moving through the mist, he stepped up beside the man and asked, “What happened?”

The sub-marshal jerked, straightening his stance and quickly squaring his shoulders. “We’re trying to ascertain where—” He froze in place, then stared at his son’s dirt-covered face. “Marduke’s ass! I thought you were dead!”

“If I had a coin for every time someone told me that,” mumbled Will. He was relieved to see that his father’s cheeks were still dry, but as he looked at the man he saw the tears beginning to well in them. “It’s all right. The stones formed an arch over me.”

His father blinked, then wiped his face with one sleeve. “You’re either the luckiest, or the dumbest bastard I’ve ever known.” Stepping in, the older man gingerly probed Will’s skull with his fingers, trying to discern whether his skull had been cracked.

“Guilty on all three counts,” said Will.

“Three?”

“I’m dumb, lucky, and a bastard.”

His father winced. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.” A second later he added, “There’s a few scratches on your scalp, but they’re minor. You might not even get a lump. How do you feel?”

“Filthy,” Will admitted. “Tunneling is dirty work.” For a moment, he thought of the rock, even as it occurred to him that perhaps he’d hit his head hard enough to knock his wits loose. “Let’s finish this battle.”

“You need to rest. Let me handle the remainder.”

He started to argue, but then he noticed the world swaying ever so slightly. “I’ll sit down, but I expect to be kept informed of everything. In fact, you can stay with me. I won’t interfere unless I disagree with you.”

“Fine. First thing though, can you do something about this fog? It was wonderful for the first part of this, but it’s going to lead to confusion and more dying if the men can’t see while they take control of the streets,” suggested the sub-marshal.

“Yeah, but I’ll need to be alone for a while.”

His father frowned. “It’s warlockry, isn’t it?”

“No, but I doubt I can convince you of the difference. I didn’t have to pay anything. Tailtiu is helping me of her own accord.”

“She’s the fae woman you mentioned dealing with before?”

He nodded. “My aunt to be precise.”

“We need to have a long talk about this someday soon. Why do you want to be alone? Afraid I won’t approve of your bargaining?” Suspicion was thick in his father’s tone.

Will shook his head. “No, not that. She’s dangerous, and although she’s willing to help me, she’s rather unstable. I’d rather not push my luck by tempting her.”

“Tempting her?”

He gave his father a careful once over with his eyes. The man was uncommonly good looking for his age. Will didn’t think he would ever be that handsome. “She has a problem with men.”

“I’m not afraid of some fae trollop,” insisted the baron, “and if you’re worried that I won’t show proper restraint then you’re badly mistaken.”

“You should be afraid, and no, I’m not worried about your ability to control yourself. Just trust me on this and give me some privacy.”

His father acquiesced, and Will called his aunt to let her know they no longer needed the fog.

Chapter 38

Tailtiu ended the fog, and the day turned clear and sunny within half an hour. Cheers went up once the soldiers could see, for the dense mist had felt oppressive, even for those who had relied on