23 - Carefully Laid Plans

  Garrick stood over the carefully laid out plans, arms folded in quiet anxiety. The medallion rested between his fingers which polished the surface smooth.

  “You’re certain about the exit points?” he asked Lyndon.

  The knight commander adjusted his glasses and nodded. “We’ve quadruple checked every one of them. Every window, door, and hatch is accounted for.”

  “We’ve seen him leap over walls before,” Garrick muttered under his breath.

  Captains Roe and Creed exchanged glances, brows raised.

  “Really?” Halver asked nervously.

  “We heard the stories,” Tamsin said, “but we never fought him ourselves.”

  Garrick nodded, expression tight. “Ask some of the veterans about it sometime. Bran has a few good horror stories. Might even tell you how he got that scar.”

  They swallowed and nodded, faces a little paler than before. Lyndon cleared his throat.

  “Yes, well we’ve got everything covered this time. I’ve doubled the guard on the walls and we’ve equipped barrier magic stones that can be activated with a single word,” he said.

  “Hmm.”

  Garrick palmed the medallion and squeezed it hard. He wished Riven were here, but Riven needed rest. The poor captain had pushed himself far too hard for the last month and a half. Besides, he was overdue for a visit home.

  But it was making life a little more difficult at the moment.

  “What about the suppression tools? Did we get those from the magic tower in time?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Tamsin reported.

  “And they work?” the high commander asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Tamsin said again. “I triple checked them myself, just to make sure.”

  A quiet nod this time. Lyndon smiled.

  “High Commander Voss, I assure you every avenue has been accounted for and every contingency planned for. This isn’t our first time. And we may not be the Second Order veterans, but we know how to hold our own,” the knight commander reminded him.

  Garrick took a deep breath and nodded. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just keep thinking - if we make a mistake, he’ll get loose. In the city. On the people.”

  A sober thought. Everyone else nodded in agreement.

  It had taken a few more days for the monster to recover fully, and just as long for the newly augmented Second Order to find their rhythm. Lyndon had been indispensable in the transition, predicting each problem before it could even occur, allowing the men space for growth and getting settled, and ensuring the transition of power was smooth and seamless. After plying Riven with as many questions as possible, he’d even insisted on sending the exhausted knight captain home, setting up break days for everyone. Garrick found he no longer needed to be involved in the day to day operations of the Second Order. He’d forgotten how efficiently things could run when leadership was distributed evenly.

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  There were still little frustrations. Fifty new faces, fifty new personalities, and not years to build trust and camaraderie. Relations strained quickly as uncertainty blossomed and no amount of strategic scheduling could fabricate years of brotherhood. But even that began to shift—slowly, strangely—in light of a new, unexpected constant.

  Luka.

  With his fast recovery from the fever, he’d grown stronger by the day. There were still concerns of infection or fever, small moments that showed he was far from recovered, which prompted this little show.

  “We need to examine him in the infirmary,” Maeve told him the morning after Luka’s fever broke.

  “Why?” Garrick frowned.

  Maeve held out a finger for every point she listed. “Better lighting. More tools. Immediate access to quality medicines. Clean and maintained space. A chance to scrub that cell from top to bottom and make sure nothing nasty lingers. A better-”

  Garrick stopped her with a raised hand. “Okay, okay. I understand. You feel this is important.”

  “Not just feel. Know. If you want any progress made with him, he’ll have to be thoroughly examined. We’ve had questions for ages about his physical capabilities and mental capacity. Down in the cells, we can’t know for sure, but in the infirmary, we can examine him for head traumas unrelated to the fire or old injuries that might explain his animalistic behavior. There has to be a medical reason why a man acts like a beast.”

  Garrick noticed a shifting in the hallway. The other healers peered inside cautiously, whispering to each other. A sense of pride in Maeve began to form. Where the healers had dismissed her at first, they had now begun to rally around her. Garrick imagined only some of it had to do with the thorough thrashing he’d given the entire lot of them. Maeve’s quiet, nervous confidence had a way of drawing people to her.

  “And you all agree?” he asked, nodding in their direction.

  A young man, Healer Oliver Garrick had learned, stepped forward and nodded. “Healer Maeve is right. Now that the monster is more docile and more easily controlled, it’s best to complete the examination.”

  Maeve blushed deeply as the healer nodded to her. Garrick frowned, thinking deeply.

  “Archmage Veylan is meant to come in three days,” he said. “Can we wait until then?”

  Maeve raised a brow. “Three days is too long. By then, another fever might set in. We got in this mess because we weren’t keeping a proper eye on him the first time.”

  “You still have to give us time to organize,” Garrick said, crossing his arms as he sat back in his study chair. “It can’t be as simple as taking him on a walk like a dog on a leash. There are exits to consider, plans to be made.”

  Maeve brightened. “So you’ll do it.”

  Garrick opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again. Of course. He had practically agreed without thinking. Maeve laughed brightly as Garrick grumbled.

  “In two days, we can move him,” Garrick said.

  She didn’t even protest.

  Now, as he stood over the plans, the weight in his chest would not go away. He was nervous.

  “He’s definitely stronger now,” Tamsin murmured, studying the layout a little closer. “Stronger, but…small.”

  Halver grunted in agreement. “Gives the healers a run for their money, or so the men say.”

  Garrick winced. He had ordered the chains somewhat loosened - shackles to the wrist and a single line to the wall. It made him mobile, which is what Maeve wanted. But it also made him slippery.

  “It’s for health,” she had said.

  Still wondered what exactly about that was bad - that they wanted the Monster of Savidor healthy or that they cared enough to want it.

  “Everything is covered,” Garrick said finally. “This is strong.”

  “Are you trying to convince us or yourself?” Lyndon asked.

  “Both. Mostly myself.”

  “We know what’s at stake, High Commander,” Halver reassured him. “So do the knights. We can do this.”

  Garrick nodded. Halver was right. He needed to trust his men more. Sighing, he uncoiled the leather cord and hung the medallion around his neck before tucking it beneath his shirt. The silver felt cool against his skin.

  “It’s settled then,” he said. “Let’s move at noon.”