Nathan Free, Natalie Bound Chapter 21: Rescue

The last four caravans have all been attacked by bandits, robbers, or sabotage. On one, they used a rockslide that almost erased the whole road. It's getting bad. Father has been trying to find out what happened, but there's precious little to work with. Safe routes got hit, well-tid handoffs were intercepted. It's all very suspicious. And then the next night, I finished up my rounds as postmaster-general and walked up from the basent, bored and annoyed. I was in no mood for any kind of serious issues or aningful discussions. So when Sir Wrybin, the captain of my father's guards, ca sprinting at , I considered vacating entirely. I don't know what I was in trouble for this ti, and I would rather hear about it tomorrow. "Thank gods you're here!" he shouted out. For the first ti, I noticed that he was half-in his armor, holding his scabbard rather than keeping it clipped to his belt. And, a dozen of his n were stampeding behind him. "Lady Natalie, we need you to stay under cover! This may only be the first part of the plot!" "The hell?" I muttered to myself. Then, I straightened a bit and tidily composed myself very quickly. Right. Duke's daughter. "Sir Wrybin, what ever is the matter? Has sothing happened?" He was not at all out of breath, all that obsessive training showing its strength. His hand ca up almost of its own and he stopped himself from reaching for . I could see protective instincts warring with ingrained respect for social classes. Gotta save the girl vs Don't lay hands on the girl. "Your father, mother and brother have been abducted. We have a safe -" "What?!" I yelled, tidily un-composing myself very quickly. "What happened?! We have to rescue them!" "There was a false ssage," Wrybin said, his face twisting in rage. His hands were shaking. He might be taking this harder than I am. "The caravans, an answer, a clue as to how your family's enemies were doing this. A carriage was sent round to arrange a eting. And then, before our eyes, every guard was ejected from the couch, the doors locked themselves, and the traces and yoke broke off! The horses all ran, but the coach, with no horses, began rolling, faster than any horse ever born! I could hear them yelling... We know not where they're being taken but right now you are the only mber of your family who is not in jeopardy!" "Which way did they go?" I asked. "The cursed chanism took them southeast, by the lake road, and I'll send riders to -" I conjured back my goggles, slamd them down and leaped into the portal. There had been rains lately, and mysterious magical coach or not, if it rolled on wheels it needed to stay on the roads. Leaving them would bog it down imdiately. So I jumped southeast to the first branching of the lake road, to see if they turned south or southwest. I had to see for myself. Maybe I was fast enough to catch them. I looked around- the rains were enough to make the fields impassible, but the roads here were stonework and even where there was dirt washed up, it had dried quickly. Not deep obvious tracks for to follow. I channeled the owl, and tried to find a clue. In my panic, I almost overlooked it. One of those too-obvious-to-notice things. My brother's riding cloak, hanging from a mulberry bush, just a hundred yards to the southwest. I put the goggles over my eyes and moved to the next intersection, the road to Vuryta or to Haphaut. I ran a hand over the ground, but I cannot tell new wheel tracks from old. Sorceress, not a rogue. And a rogue is what I need here. Fortunately, the rogue on board the racing runway carriage threw a boot out where I could spot it. A hundred feet down the road. I marked that road, and flicked ahead to the next intersection in that direction. I looked around- no boot, no glove, no hat. Nothing of Nathan's, or my father, or my mother. I peered all around, trying to find any sign at all, growing more frustrated. Status. Skill Point. I had one left over from reaching Level 2. I had not been sure what to do with it, or the extra Attribute point. Seems like tonight is the ti to figure that out. I put the point into Perception, and I looked again. With increased skills, and magically-enhanced senses, I should be able to see anything if there's anything to see. So, either the carriage has not co this far yet and I just need to wait, or I've missed sothing and I'm standing around at the wrong place for no reason while my family is kidnapped. That thought took hold of by the throat, it beca hard to breathe. I shook myself out so. "Just relax, girl," I said out loud. "Rember, we're still in the prologue. There is a hard limit to how bad this can be, the script literally requires that all three of them are alive for the next four years." And besides, we're eleven years into the background of the story- none of the challenges here are going to be higher than Level 1. I could hear them. Wheels. Moving fast, like freeway-fast. In this world, only magic can do sothing like that. I watched it co my way. It looked haunted, eerie, watching sothing so familiar behaving in such an unfamiliar way. After eleven years in this world, in this ga, I've beco accustod to carriages. And to see one racing along with no horses at all is rather like watching a dog walking on its hind legs while holding an umbrella and discussing the weather with a Boston accent. Ti for sorcery. A bit of mana to channel lightning, I needed to think quickly here. The world slowed and gave all the ti I needed to get this exactly right. I asured, and considered options. How to slow and stop this machine without endangering the occupants. I selected oak, and cast a spell to craft and conjure. I could not safely crash this thing, my family was on board and a carriage moving that fast could easily overturn and severely injure everyone inside. I needed to disable it without tipping it. A wooden ramp, gently inclined for twenty feet, just narrower than the carriage's wheelbase. I ford it right in front, and the animated chanism hit it directly. The front of it hit the ramp and its montum pushed it forward, up the ramp, higher. And then it crushed down, splitting my ramp apart. It had too much montum, too much force. I could not create a barrier stronger than it was. Mass tis velocity. I morized so many formulas. But often nothing mattered but strength. There are problems you can't clever your way out of, and exposing this thing so I could slow it down seed to be one of those. Status. Attribute Point. I allocated the point into Strength. Fortunately, Strength in this ga does not represent big muscles, though that can certainly figure into it. No, at the end of the day it's a catch-all value for how well you can overco challenges and danger. And in the case of a mage, it figures into how much power I can put into my spells. Going from two points of Strength to three, I felt a rush inside of . My blood ran hot and cold at the sa ti, and it felt like there was sothing large and warm at my back, sothing comforting and strong that would support , but that it was myself, and I could support myself. It was confusing, and I had a lot going on already. I was distracted from the experience because I was still in the middle of a rescue. I ford a new ramp, bigger, harder, and reinforced, just a few feet ahead of the rushing cab-wagon. It hit at speed, and that sa speed forced it onto the ramp and up away from the ground. The axles dragged at it but the wheels had no purchase, they were dangling in the air to either side of my obstacle. The wheels dropped on their springs and then lifted off the ground, spinning free for a second. The montum carried it further, and the whole machine ran up the ramp, and the whole vehicle rocked up and over, jostling terribly. But when it ca down the other side, I conjured a long oaken rod fed through the spokes of the rear wheels, one rod fed through both wheels. The turn of the wheels brought the rod up, and then caught on the back side of the carriage. It bent, then broke, shattering loudly. And then I started feeding in more oak rods, one after another, gradually thicker. The spokes gave up before the cab did, and the two wheels smashed apart. The rims rolled on, bouncing rrily down the lane, and the back of the carriage dropped onto the road, dragging. I fed lightning's speed into my body as well as my mind, and jogged to keep up with the partially-disabled machine. It was slowing, half its movent was broken apart and the weight of the cab dragging on the road was much more than it was built for. Not a lot of low-gear torque, apparently, built for top-speed only. More oak rods fed through the front wheels, building larger and larger, accumulating drag as I went. After a minute, the wheels were stopped, straining against the obstruction. Whoever had animated this thing did not give it extensive programming for defying resistance. I fed an oak wedge into the door fra, and hit it with a large oaken mallet to break the hinges apart. My father kicked the door out, and leaped out with my mother and brother held under his arms. As soon as he could see the way out, he grabbed them and flung himself to safety. For a while I let him burst out in slow-motion, very dramatic, very emotional. The splinters of wood turned through the air, and he looked so serious. If there were justice the cursed thing would explode behind him just to honor the style; dramatic slow-motion jumps deserve an explosion. Then, I shed the lightning's influence, and ti returned to normal. His landing was hard but steady, boots thudding, and he set my family safely on the road, gasping, trembling. I threw myself forward and grabbed him around the waist, hugging him close to . My mother enwrapped us both from one side, and Nathan's arms circled from the other. We held each other without words for long minutes. I was crying in silence, tears streaming, and then I heard soone sniffling. A chain reaction, we were all sobbing in relief and exhaustion and fear within monts. Hooves interrupted us. We broke our hold and spread out to get room to maneuver, all four of us. I activated the owl, and then relaxed. "Wrybin," I declared. A minute later the captain of the guard was racing straight at us on top of a straining horse at full sprint. He slowed to a gallop, then a trot, as he spotted us. His eyes glowed with relief as he saw us all still alive. "Liege! Mistress! M'lord, m'lady! I am deeply glad to see all of you safe! I feared so!" He looked over at , sheepish. "And to you I owe an apology for the words I spoke after you left. I ant only to keep you safe while we were under attack." "Already forgiven," I said. "You were just following through as Mother and Father ordered." "Pardon?" my father asked, pressing a hand around my shoulder. I chuckled. "When you all got absconded, Sir Wrybin wanted moved to a safe location. I slipped his grasp to co rescue you all instead, risking myself." The duke glanced over at the disabled carriage, wheels still struggling to find purchase. "I suppose the moratorium on adventurous outcos may have worn out its welco sowhat." The carriage was also of interest to . "Hmm. I can release it, and if we follow it we may find out who's behind this." "And deliver ourselves to whatever fate the carriage was to deliver us to?" my mother drawled dryly, rolling her eyes. "If we need a new rule, I'm instating it right now. In this family we do not walk into a trap just to find out what the trap is." "Good rule," my father said. "Hey Natalie?" "Yes Father?" "Good work. Good rescue." "Thanks Father." "Sir Wrybin?" "Yes F- my liege?" "We'll talk about that later. But, for now, please do finish destroying this conveyance." Wrybin dismounted and drew his sword as he approached the pinned carriage. It glowed briefly, and then ignited. The sword grew, each swing drew the blade out longer and broader, the flas hotter. Then he swung, once, and the whole damned thing was smashed to kindling. Warriors. I'm so frickin' jealous. I've got mobility and versatility, but for stopping power you just can't beat a knight with a magic sword, magic boots and belt, three amulets and a couple rings. I also have my suspicions about the feather that's always pinned to his cloak, but it's not good form to ask a warrior which of their items are magical. More hooves, more guards. I snuggled close to my father. "May I please take the fight to them?" I asked, and I hated how wounded my voice sounded. Father did not answer, either to support or deny . I have never been able to get him to make a decision in the heat of the mont, influenced by emotion. He always lets himself cool off before he speaks or acts. But he could hear that tone of my voice. He bent down and picked up in his arms, and I was little again. He pressed to his chest and I could hear the thud and rumble of his heart and his breathing. All was well. This is just prologue. Nothing is wrong. "I'm sorry we scared you," he said, and kissed my hair. I shrugged. "I'm not angry. I just don't know how to feel helpless," I said, staring off. "That's what Mother said, when I got hurt." "Thamsin's pretty smart," he said. "And she knows the inside of her own heart better than anyone I've ever known, except for her children. All three of you. It's a mystery to how you all do it, but I admire it. I'm grateful for everything you inherit from her, because I know how special and amazing she is. And how wonderful and worthy both of you are." I patted his chest. There was a lot of self-deprecation implied by his words, but I know it didn't co from that sort of place. He did not need to put himself down just to raise others up. For myself, if I had said sothing like that, it would not be so wholeso and earnest. Like he said, we know our hearts. For my mother and my twin, they ca by it honestly with talent and good character. I had studied myself extensively. Mage training involved a lot of self-recognition, strengthening the sense of identity to resist the foreign essences we would interact with. I had spent hours in ditation, lucid dreaming, journaling, affirmations, reflection, and study. All so that I could look into my own heart and really, truly see what is there. That is essential and necessary training for a mage. But I don't have to like what I find there. Out of my whole family, I seem to be the only one with any inclination towards revenge. Hurting those who hurt us. I'm the disobedient one, the reckless one. The first to keep secrets or try to lie. Nathan could not be petty or vindictive if he tried, he would not know where to start. The fact that they love as they love each other is a testant to them, not to . They're too kind to be disappointed with . It seems like every week I understand a little better why I'm labeled as a [ Rival ], to my chagrin. When it's ti for to do what's necessary, it's going to put us at cross-purposes. I have to protect them.