Forest Kingdom Trilogy 2 - Blood and Honor

at her as she walked breathlessly towards him.
    'Getting out of shape, Kate. Too much good living among the swells.'
    'Stick it in your ear, Doyle,' said Taggert, managing a smile of her own as her breathing slowly returned to normal. 'I'll run you into the ground any day. It's good to see you, Matt. What's been happening here?'
    Doyle nodded at a closed door halfway down the corridor. His guards were keeping it under close observation while being very careful not to get too close to it. 'That's the problem. We've been trying to open that door with everything from crowbars to curses, and the damn thing won't budge an inch. From the smell of it, something very nasty's going on behind that door.'
    Taggert nodded, and walked over to inspect the door. Doyle stayed close beside her. She stood before the door, and sniffed the air cautiously. There was a sharp, acidic smell, like game meat that had been left to spoil too long. She looked closely at the door, being careful not to touch it, and then frowned as she saw that the door's edges had grown into its surround. The wood flowed seamlessly into the stonework as though they had always been one piece. She glanced at Doyle.
    'All right. It's tricky enough, I'll grant you, but a good axe'll open it fast enough. What's the emergency?
    What's so special about this door that I had to be called in?'
    'This is Count Penhalligan's new chambers,' said Doyle. 'He and his entire family were at home when the doorway became sealed. We haven't been able to get an answer out of any of them since.'
    Oh great, thought Taggert disgustedly. Just what I needed. The King's cousin, and next in line to be Regent if anything happens to Count William.
    She glared at the closed door, and fought down an urge to kick it. 'I take it you've sent for a Sanctuary, Matt?'
    'Sure, but most of them are busy. Laughing Boy is dealing with the sewers, Sweet Jenny is guarding the kitchens, and Mother Donna's still stuck in the Musician's Gallery.'
    'Right,' said Taggert. She closed her eyes for a moment. She couldn't remember when she'd last felt this tired. When she opened her eyes again, the door was still sealed. 'I think we can forget about Mother Donna. You can't hurry a mass exorcism. How about Grey Davey?'
    Doyle shrugged. 'I sent word, but you know what he's like.'
    'He's good at his job.'
    'When we can find him.'
    'Quite. All right, Matt, it looks like we'll have to do this the hard way. Have your men draw their swords and then fall back in a semi-circle facing the door. If anything gets past me, kill it. I don't care what it looks like - if it gets a chance it'll kill you, so make sure you get it first. And Matt, if that smell is what I think it is, we can forget about the Penhalligans. If they're lucky, they died quickly. Now let's get on with it. Stay alert, and we might manage to contain this yet.'
    She scowled unhappily at the unresponsive door as Doyle muttered quiet commands to his man, and they shifted quickly into position. More and more, she didn't like the look of the sealed doorway. It looked too planned for her liking. In the past, the Unreal had always seemed random and undisciplined, but of late the outbreaks had seemed to be following a pattern, almost as though the Unreal was somehow alive and aware . . .
    Taggert took a deep breath and focused her will, calling on the High Magic she'd mastered under her father's patient teaching. She reached for the light within her, the roaring blinding light that was her mind and her soul and so much more, and brought a little of it out into the world. The vivid white balefire crackled around her right hand, spitting and flaring, and slowly formed itself into a glowing sword.
    Taggert gripped the hilt firmly, feeling the familiar cold pulse of life beat against her palm and fingers. She was vaguely aware of Doyle and his men watching her silently. She didn't need to see their faces to know that some of them were afraid of her. She didn't blame them. Some of the things she could do frightened her too. She swung her sword of light against the closed door.
    The balefire bit deep into the thick wood, cutting clean through and out again. A vile, choking smell poured from the jagged rent in the wood, and Taggert fell back a step, coughing harshly. The guards screwed up their faces as the smell hit them, and one or two stirred unhappily, but they all stood their ground. Taggert scowled at the door and struck again with her sword, widening the opening until