From a High Tower by Mercedes Lackey Read Free Book Online

wind, a veritable Valkyrie armed with a staff that she wielded expertly stepped between Giselle and her attacker. Johann scrambled to his feet, pulling a knife from a sheath at his waist, snarling.
    â€œGet away from her, you bastard!” shouted Mother, her face a mask of fury in the lightning flashes, her hair loose and whipping around her.
“Get him, boys!”
    It was Johann’s turn to shriek as Mother’s three black shepherd dogs avalanched up the stairs, leapt on him and attacked him, tearing gashes in his arms, savaging his legs. The knife fell from his hand. Blindly he threw himself toward the window, arms reaching for the rope he had left there—
    The rope that wasn’t there anymore.
    With a howl of terror he balanced for a moment in the window, when a single thrust of Mother’s staff sent him tumbling into the storm.
    The dogs howled their victory as Mother turned to Giselle, who was still reeling from the shock of her sudden rescue.
    Mother didn’t bother with trying to untie Giselle; she picked up Johann’s abandoned knife from the floor, slashed the cords holding her wrists and gathered Giselle into her arms. Giselle sobbed with relief and hysteria as Mother soothed her, stroking her hair, saying words Giselle barely heard.
    â€œOh, my little rampion, my little darling, I meant for you to never, ever be hurt. That is why I kept you here, to keep you safe. When the gnomes told me there was a strange man here, I started back as fast as I could,” Mother sobbed, almost as wrought up as Giselle. “I nearly killed the horse getting here. There was no one nearer than me to help.”
    Giselle sobbed in Mother’s arms as the storm outside abated until, as the last of the thunder faded away and light returned to the room, she fell asleep, exhausted.

    When she awoke, she heard voices below. Her face ached, and the back of her head had a huge, painful lump on it. As she pushed back the covers, she could see that Mother had put her into her nightgown, but that there were scratches and bruises all over her arms and legs, and her wrists were raw with rope-burns. She felt her eyes grow hot with tears and dashed them away, reminding herself that Johann might have beaten her, but Mother had saved her before he had done—
that—
to her. Or murdered her. As narrow as her escape had been, it had still been an escape.
    There were definitely three voices down below, and all three of them were familiar. Mother, and two of the Bruderschaft—Pieter Meinhoff and Joachim Beretz. Resolutely swallowing down sobs, determined to fight through all the horrible feelings coursing through her, she slowly dressed, grateful that the clothing she had been wearing was nowhere to be seen. She never wanted to wear that blouse and dirndl again.
    She made her way slowly down the stairs, ending at last in the kitchen, where Mother and her guests were sitting at the table, talking and drinking. Old Pieter was facing the stairs and was the first to see her; he stood up, and the others turned and saw her standing hesitantly halfway down the last flight.
    â€œCome join us,
Liebchen
,” said Pieter. “We were just speaking of your future.”
    Pulling her shawl tightly around her, she descended the rest of the stairs and perched on the empty stool at the fourth side of the table.
    For a while, they talked around her, and she learned that Pieter and Joachim had brought the wagon and the supplies Mother had been forced to leave behind. She learned she had been asleep around the clock. And that there was a reason why Mother had kept her all alone here.
    An Air Master—and it had been plain to Mother that Giselle was going to grow into Mastery—was at her most dangerous and unpredictable in the years of adolescence. Strong emotions, which could call up powerful magic, were not matched by equally strong control, as evidenced by the terrible storm she had summoned while Johann was