Randulph Fennes had not run in fifteen years. His knees reminded him of this fact with every step toward the inn. When he'd been in his studies thinking about the three strange people asking about Patch, he couldn't help but feel... useless. Like a dusty book that complained when opened. He'd decided that he had to do something, to help stop whatever Patch was up to. At some point in life, one had to actually do something in the world.
He knew they were heading to Greenlake, so that's where he went, expecting to find them dead by that wretched thing Fandar and Milo had created.
Finding a Frenzied Barbarian about to massacre innocents was somehow worse.
?STOP!? he'd wheezed in the Old Tongue, then caught his breath and tried again with proper projection.
The spell hit the woman like a wall of thick honey. She didn't freeze; that would have required overwhelming force, but slowed to quarter speed. Her movements became dreamlike, each gesture taking four times longer than it should. Still terrifyingly fast, all things considered.
Not enough, Randulph thought, already sweating from the effort. She's fighting it.
?How are you still moving?? he said.
He switched tactics, layering suggestions rather than force. Calm. Tired. The fight is over. You've won. Rest. You’ve won.
The Barbarian turned toward him slowly, black eyes focusing with the intensity of a predator recognizing bigger prey. Or possibly just different prey. She took a step. It took five seconds, but she took it, and her face turned into a menacing grin.
?Everyone out the back!? Randulph shouted. ?Quickly now, with your little feet!?
The locals didn't need telling twice. They fled like rabbits from a very slow but inevitable fox. Only the healer girl and the King's Man stayed, though the latter was cradling his left arm at an angle arms weren't meant to achieve.
?Rast, your arm—? the girl started.
?Broken. I know. Starting to see a pattern here.? He grimaced. ?Next time we fight something, I'm wearing full armor. Or staying home. Staying home sounds good.?
Randulph pushed more power into the suggestion. Sleep. You want to sleep. Time to rest.
The Barbarian's eyelids drooped slightly. Progress, for what it was worth. What were Bormecians made of? Granite and will?
?We need to restrain her,? Randulph said through gritted teeth, regretting his decision to follow these people. ?Before the spell breaks. Rope. Chains. Whatever you have, even if you have to bolt her to something.?
?Restrain Reyn?? The healer looked horrified with those big eyes of hers. ?She's not an animal!?
?She's Frenzied! When this spell ends, she'll either collapse or continue killing. I'd prefer the former, but I expect the latter if you don't get moving.? Sweat dripped down his nose. Randulph hated sweating. It made his robes stick. ?One of the rooms upstairs. Tie her to the bed. Lock the door.?
The healer turned bright red. ?Tie her to... that's...?
?Not the time for propriety!? Randulph snapped, though he noticed her blush seemed more complex than simple embarrassment. These kids. ?Do it or she kills us all!?
They managed it, somehow. The rabbit creature (what even was that thing?) helped by chittering what sounded like encouragement. Or dinner plans. The suggestion to rest finally took hold as they got her horizontal. She collapsed onto the bed like a puppet discovering gravity.
?Rope,? Randulph ordered. ?All of it.?
---
Reyn woke to several unfortunate realizations.
First: she was tied to a bed with enough rope to rig a small ship. Or a medium ship. Possibly a large dinghy.
Second: everything hurt in that special way that meant she'd gone Full Frenzy and probably owed someone a new door and more apologies.
Third: there were people in the room staring at her like she might explode, which was fair.
Fourth: the remains of her clothes left much to be desired, as most of it seemed to have clear signs of the lake adventure, with quite a bit of leather and cloth still somewhere in Greenlake. Not that she cared, but she'd started to realize that these were things Westerners worried about.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
?Good morning,? Venn said carefully, maintaining eye contact with a focus that suggested she was trying very hard not to look elsewhere. Her face was slightly pink. ?How are you feeling??
?Like I fought a mountain. And the mountain's extended family.? Reyn tested the ropes. Solid work. Sailor-level knotwork. She was impressed. ?Did I kill anyone??
?No.? Rast's voice from the corner. His arm was in a sling that looked professionally done. ?Though not for lack of trying. You threw Hendrick through two tables and a chair. He's actually impressed. Can’t say I share is amusement.?
Memory came back in fragments like pieces of a broken mirror. The drowning. The creature coming apart in her hands. The inn door exploding. Someone flying through furniture.
The Frenzy saved me, she thought, remembering the moment that she was under water.I drew on it, and it saved me from drowning. The teachings never mentioned that part.
?I apologize,? she said.
?You cleared the lake,? Venn said, still maintaining that intense eye contact while her hands fidgeted with her healer's bag. ?The creature's dead. People can fish again. The innkeeper is already planning to charge people to see the 'battle site.'?
?Where the Great Bormecian defeated the Greenlake Frogbeast,? Rast added. ?The man knows and opportunity when he sees one.?
?I almost killed everyone in the inn.?
?But you didn't.? This from an older voice that she barely reckognized. Randulph stepped into view, looking exhausted but satisfied, like a cat that had caught a difficult mouse. ?Though I must admit it was closer than I'd prefer. I had to use three layers of suggestion. Do you know how much that costs in terms of personal energy? I'll be eating nothing but bread and cheese for a week to recover.?
?You stopped me. Thank you.?
?Slowed you. There's a difference. Like the difference between stopping a boulder and making it roll slightly slower.? He studied her with interest. ?Fascinating, really. I've never seen someone fight through multiple layers of my compulsion like that. I thought you’d break free, but I suspect there was a part of you that worked with me. I'm actually considering writing a paper. 'On the Futility of Reasoning with Rage: A Case Study.'?
?Would you mind untying me, perhaps??
?Are you in control?? His voice was calm, and old, and trying to be knowing.
Reyn considered lying, then decided against it. The pounding in her head suggested honesty might hurt less. ?Mostly.?
?Mostly isn't—?
Reyn sighed and flexed. The ropes creaked like a ship in a storm, then snapped with sounds that made everyone wince. They fell away like dry leaves, leaving red marks on her skin that made Venn's blush deepen.
Thorough work, she thought, sitting up and immediately regretting it as the world spun. Very thorough.
Everyone jumped back except Turnip, who chittered approval and immediately claimed her shoulder as reconquered territory.
?I'm in control,? Reyn said. ?The Frenzy's passed, I believe.?
?How comforting,? Randulph said dryly. ?The woman who can break ship rope says she believes she is in control. I'm sure quite a few wars have started with such a sentiment.?
Venn hurried over with a blanket, wrapping it around Reyn's shoulders while carefully not making eye contact. Her hands shook slightly. ?You should rest more. The Frenzy takes a toll on the body. Among other things. I mean… rest is important.?
?Why are you here?? Reyn asked Randulph, grateful for the subject change. ?I mean, I appreciate the help, but how did it come to pass??
?Because Patch, that useless piece of excrement, is dragging the School of Suggestion through the mud with whatever he's doing with the Crimson Hand.? Randulph straightened his travel-worn robes, which made unfortunate squelching sounds. ?I suspect he's been using mass suggestion on their leadership. Unheard of! Corrupting them. Turning them from idealists to even bigger idiots. Also, I was bored.?
?Bored??
?Incredibly. Do you know how dull studying magic can be? This seemed more interesting. I'm starting to reconsider that assessment.?
?And you want to stop him??
?I want to ensure everyone knows Skyrise Tower had nothing to do with his crimes.? He sniffed. ?Also, I want to point and laugh when they arrest him.?
?You're a bit old for travel, are you not?? Reyn asked, noting how he winced just existing.
?Yes. So you'll have to walk slowly. Like escorting an elderly turtle. A distinguished elderly turtle, if I might say so myself.?
?That doesn't work for us.?
?I see.? Randulph's expression grew cold. ?I wish your friends good luck the next time you lose control.?
Reyn felt something in her chest tighten. ?I won't lose control.?
?Oh, so this was planned? Part of a clever strategy to terrify fishermen into appreciation??
?That's not—?
?Because from where I stood, you were two seconds from turning that innkeeper into innkeeper pieces. His son watched you redesign their door. With your fists. The man you threw is actually asking if you give lessons, but that's beside the point.? Randulph's voice was calm, which made it worse. ?But please, tell me how you won't lose control again. No, tell your travel companions.?
Silence stretched like taffy. Reyn considered all her years of training, and how easily Rage had turned to Frenzy even still.
?Fine,? Reyn said finally. ?You can come.?
?How gracious. My knees are already complaining.? Randulph sat heavily in a chair, which creaked ominously. ?We leave tomorrow. Today, I rest and you all pretend the locals aren't terrified of you. Or selling tickets to see you. I'm not sure which is more disturbing.?
?They're grateful—? Venn started, finally looking at something other than Reyn's eyes. Unfortunately, she looked down, then quickly back up, her face achieving new shades of red.
?They're grateful you're leaving,? Randulph corrected. ?There's a difference. Though they're also planning to rename the inn 'The Splintered Door.' Marketing genius or poor taste? Hard to say.?
Through the window, Reyn could see the lake. Clear now, no longer pink with blood. Peaceful. Safe for fishing. Already, someone had set up a small stand selling something that looked suspiciously like fish scales painted black.
She'd saved them. She'd also nearly killed them. She'd also apparently created a tourist attraction.
Turnip nuzzled her ear, chittering softly. At least the rabbit wasn't judging her. Though given what Turnip considered normal behavior, that might not be comforting. Or maybe it was perfectly comforting. Reyn’s head ached.
?Tomorrow then,? she said.
?Tomorrow,? Randulph agreed. ?And do try not to Frenzy before breakfast. I'm too old to run twice. Once was already one time too many. My knees are writing formal complaints.?
?We should probably find you some clothes first,? Venn said quickly, then immediately looked at the ceiling as if it had become fascinating. ?Or repair what you’re wearing to a decent standard. For traveling. On the road. Where other people are.?
Rast coughed something that sounded like a laugh, then winced as it jostled his arm.
?Yes,? Reyn said, not understanding what Rast found amusing. ?I need thread and a needle.?
?I'll ask the innkeeper's wife,? Venn said, already heading for the door at speed. ?She seems about your size. I mean… height. Your height. I'll just go.?
She fled.
?Young love,? Randulph observed. ?So awkward it's physically painful to watch.?
Reyn slung her feet out of the bed. ?What are you talking about??
?Just me being old and bitter. We all have our delusions.? He stood with effort. ?I'm going to find wine. This inn owes me that much for saving them from you.?
He left, leaving Reyn alone with Turnip and the growing certainty that her life had become very strange.
The rabbit chittered agreement and began grooming blood out of its fur.
Very strange indeed.
Do you think Reyn would believe in Santa Clause?
