Read Online The Silent Tempest (Book 2) by Michael G. Manning - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael G. Manning
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reached the town. But there’s a good chance
they haven’t taken anyone yet, he told himself. None of his other children
had awakened to their power yet, at least not as of a week ago when the Mordan
warden had found Haley. If there had been others, they would probably have
been detected.
Unless they were hiding their power like I
did, he corrected mentally.
Still, the chances were that none of the others would
appear as anything special yet, unless one of them had awakened very recently.
That gave him a distinct advantage. While he might not know how many children
he had, he did know which women he had slept with. He could approach each
directly, and if they had a child of the right age, he would know it was almost
certainly his.
And then you’ll have to take them.
It wasn’t a pleasant thought. He had brought nothing
but misery to the women he had known back then. Now he was returning to do even
worse, stealing their children, but the alternative was unthinkable. The
She’Har would take them all, one by one, as they discovered their power.
Slaves to various groves, his children would then be forced to murder one
another in the arena.
Unless some of them don’t inherit my
curse.
If that were the case, then he would be dooming some
of them to miserable lives, trying to prevent a disaster that might never come
to them. He turned those thoughts over and over in his mind as he rode, but he
found no satisfying answer.
Pragmatism dictated one response. He would take them
all.
He bypassed the first few widely scattered farms.
None of the women he had been with lived in them. It wasn’t until he reached
the Tolburn’s house that he stopped. Brenda Sayer had given birth to his first
child, and she had married Seth’s father. It had been over a decade, but it
was likely that she was still there, raising her daughter Brigid.
My daughter, Kate’s half-sister, and Mr.
Tolburn’s step-daughter… it’s a complicated world I’ve left behind. In
his mind’s eye he remembered the one time he had met her, a strange dark haired
girl full of energy and whimsy. She had played with his parent’s dog, Lacy,
and afterward he had tried to teach her to play music on his cittern.
It was the only remotely parental memory he had.
As soon as the Tolburn house came into view he knew
something was wrong. It was still beyond the range of his magesight, but he
could see smoke rising from the main house, and it didn’t appear to be coming
from the chimney.
Tyrion felt a surge of anger, but he refused to give
in to it. The horse felt his anxiousness and began to walk faster, but he
reined her in, keeping the pace steady. Whatever had happened there was done. I may need her strength later, he thought, putting one hand on the
mare’s neck to reassure her. Despite his forced calm, his mind’s eye
envisioned them running down the men who had attacked the Tolburn home.
“Not now, not yet,” he told himself.
Twenty minutes later he was riding into the yard in
front of Owen and Brenda Tolburn’s home. It was dark now, but his magesight
had already located the one survivor. Owen sat in the front room of his home,
cradling his wife’s dead body. The fire that had burned the front of the house
had gone out already, leaving the front wall of the house scorched and still
smoking. Either Owen had been lucky, or he had managed to put the flames out
himself.
Tyrion stopped some twenty feet from the door and
dismounted, tossing the reins over the mare’s saddle and uttering a one word
command in Erollith. The horses kept by the She’Har were well trained, he knew
she would not move from the spot until he returned to her.
His shield deflected the crossbow quarrel that struck
him as he stepped through the front door. Owen held the empty weapon in his
hands. He still sat on the floor, his wife’s limp body draped across his lap.
“Back to finish what you started!?” the farmer
screamed. “Kill me! I don’t care!” Owen’s face
they haven’t taken anyone yet, he told himself. None of his other children
had awakened to their power yet, at least not as of a week ago when the Mordan
warden had found Haley. If there had been others, they would probably have
been detected.
Unless they were hiding their power like I
did, he corrected mentally.
Still, the chances were that none of the others would
appear as anything special yet, unless one of them had awakened very recently.
That gave him a distinct advantage. While he might not know how many children
he had, he did know which women he had slept with. He could approach each
directly, and if they had a child of the right age, he would know it was almost
certainly his.
And then you’ll have to take them.
It wasn’t a pleasant thought. He had brought nothing
but misery to the women he had known back then. Now he was returning to do even
worse, stealing their children, but the alternative was unthinkable. The
She’Har would take them all, one by one, as they discovered their power.
Slaves to various groves, his children would then be forced to murder one
another in the arena.
Unless some of them don’t inherit my
curse.
If that were the case, then he would be dooming some
of them to miserable lives, trying to prevent a disaster that might never come
to them. He turned those thoughts over and over in his mind as he rode, but he
found no satisfying answer.
Pragmatism dictated one response. He would take them
all.
He bypassed the first few widely scattered farms.
None of the women he had been with lived in them. It wasn’t until he reached
the Tolburn’s house that he stopped. Brenda Sayer had given birth to his first
child, and she had married Seth’s father. It had been over a decade, but it
was likely that she was still there, raising her daughter Brigid.
My daughter, Kate’s half-sister, and Mr.
Tolburn’s step-daughter… it’s a complicated world I’ve left behind. In
his mind’s eye he remembered the one time he had met her, a strange dark haired
girl full of energy and whimsy. She had played with his parent’s dog, Lacy,
and afterward he had tried to teach her to play music on his cittern.
It was the only remotely parental memory he had.
As soon as the Tolburn house came into view he knew
something was wrong. It was still beyond the range of his magesight, but he
could see smoke rising from the main house, and it didn’t appear to be coming
from the chimney.
Tyrion felt a surge of anger, but he refused to give
in to it. The horse felt his anxiousness and began to walk faster, but he
reined her in, keeping the pace steady. Whatever had happened there was done. I may need her strength later, he thought, putting one hand on the
mare’s neck to reassure her. Despite his forced calm, his mind’s eye
envisioned them running down the men who had attacked the Tolburn home.
“Not now, not yet,” he told himself.
Twenty minutes later he was riding into the yard in
front of Owen and Brenda Tolburn’s home. It was dark now, but his magesight
had already located the one survivor. Owen sat in the front room of his home,
cradling his wife’s dead body. The fire that had burned the front of the house
had gone out already, leaving the front wall of the house scorched and still
smoking. Either Owen had been lucky, or he had managed to put the flames out
himself.
Tyrion stopped some twenty feet from the door and
dismounted, tossing the reins over the mare’s saddle and uttering a one word
command in Erollith. The horses kept by the She’Har were well trained, he knew
she would not move from the spot until he returned to her.
His shield deflected the crossbow quarrel that struck
him as he stepped through the front door. Owen held the empty weapon in his
hands. He still sat on the floor, his wife’s limp body draped across his lap.
“Back to finish what you started!?” the farmer
screamed. “Kill me! I don’t care!” Owen’s face
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