by Eric Ugland
“And then they’re back home with no overlord.”
“Except the fiends.”
“Potentially the fiends. And even if they have a fiend overlord, which I doubt that would be how they structure the deal, that fiend would be more hands-off than we are.”
“Well shit.”
“Yes.”
“We could uninvite them, I guess.”
“Yes, but then you risk looking evil for sticking a group of your followers outside in cold during Fiends’ Night.”
“Better than damning all the rest of my people to the hells.”
“If that is what is happening.”
“You just said that’s what’s happening.”
“I pointed out a possibility.”
“Seems pretty fucking likely to me.”
“Have they shown even a hint of disloyalty so far?”
“Not that I’ve noticed.”
“Then what will your rationale be for denying them access?”
“Out of room.”
“Really, your grace?”
“Now I’m fucking paranoid.”
“As well you should be. All the damn time.”
“This whole ruling shit sucks.”
“Agreed.”
“Then why the fuck are we doing it?”
“Because who else would you put in our place?”
“Um, anyone?”
“You have the joy of saying that because there is likely no single person in the Empire, right now, who can force you to do anything. You have the strength and prowess to fight for the freedom to live as you please. But what of all the rest—”
“Let’s table this talk for later as well.”
Nikolai leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. He gave me a smarmy sort of smile, and nodded.
“As you wish, your grace,” he said.
“Eliza introduced me to some orphan girls,” I replied. “What’s going to happen to them?”
“That depends largely on their social station.”
“Ladies.”
“They belong to a house?”
“Yes. Eliza told me they were the head of their houses now.”
“If they have a house, it is very likely there are other members of the house somewhere in the Empire who will come to gather their new charge.”
“What if they were like Benedict?” I asked, thinking back to my adopted father.
“Cleeve? If they were like Cleeve, then they will be alone.”
“That’s—”
“Do not even think of adopting them, your grace. That is not a position you are ready for.”
“I was thinking you could adopt them.”
The smile vanished. Nikolai shook his head.
“No,” he said.
“I feel like it’s something I could order you to do. Like, as a duke.”
“Your grace—”
“Definitely as a member of my hirð.”
“Montana.”
I smiled and winked. “But maybe we should table this conversation as well.”
“We shall never have this conversation again. Now, can you let me clean up your messes for a little while before—”
“Can we talk to fiends?”
“I’m sorry?”
“The fiends. Can we talk to them?”
“Yes. They are mostly intelligent beings, but—”
“Can’t we ask why they’re coming here?”
“You would need to find a way to contact them for that to happen, a summoning ritual of some sort. And then you would need to trade them for the information, which will likely wind up with you getting the shit end of the deal, being that all they do is make deals. It would be better, I believe, to hunker down and make sure we have our doors and windows guarded, to ignore any and all fiendly dealings.”
“Okay then. I leave you to my messes.”
“Thank you, your grace. I will make sure the witches have a safe spot to spend Fiends’ Night.”
13
I realized it felt odd to get to eat all the meals I wanted during a day. Being back in Coggeshall meant food was always available. It made me happy I could provide that for so many people.
I wandered into the second-floor cantina, the more reserved of the two, and loaded a plate full of steak and bread. Then I grabbed a mug of mead and a bowl of greens. I spotted a table way off to one side, near the windows, and sat down, happy to eat by myself. I dug in.
Three bites of steak later, and Ragnar sat down across from me, a plate of fish held between his paws. The lutra looked at me with his otter-like eyes and winked.
“Ragnar,” I said.
“Boss,” he replied.
And then we ate.
Skeld came next, and sat to my right. Once upon a time, he’d been a lutra like Ragnar. Now he was more like a wolverine. I noticed his plate reflected that change: he had more land-based food. Which could just have been a coincidence, but I doubted it.
Then Bear the brownie materialized out of thin air, and sat down in a floating magical throne next to Skeld, putting her at appropriate table height.
“Could just get you a high chair,” I said.
Bear glared at me, then flicked her hand. A bright line of arcane sparkles shot from her hand to my chair, and the chair disappeared.
I fell to the floor with an undignified thump.
“Guess I can just get a chair,” I said, slowly getting up and rubbing my thumped rump.
“Gotta watch out for brownies,” Tarryn said, stepping around me to take a spot at the table.
“What is this?” I asked, looking at the bulk of my hirð gathered in front of me. “Were you just waiting for me to eat so you could gang up on me or something?”
“Or something,” Tarryn said as he blew on a spoonful of hot soup.
New chair placed, I sat back down.
“Is this a meeting?” I asked. “An intervention?”
“Think it’s just lunch time,” Ragnar replied.
I shrugged. That worked for me.
We ate in a comfortable silence; I think all enjoying being inside, safe, warm, and fed. It seemed, in this life at least, that that was a rarity.
Ragnar finished his plate of fish and practically ran to get an entire pie for himself. He brought the pie back and dug into it with gusto, inhaling the berries in an almost dangerous fashion.
“Slow down,” I said. “Chew your food.”
“Don’t have pie out in the field,” Ragnar said through a full mouth, spraying crumbs in a red berry mist across the table.
“Knock it off,” Skeld snapped.
Ragnar dutifully slowed down.
“Tarryn,” I started, “do you know any summoning magic?”
He paused with his fork in his mouth, and looked over at me, his eyes wide. Slowly, he shook his head.
“Pity,” I said. “What about Essie or Mercy?”
“I doubt it,” Tarryn said. “Though I suppose it would depend largely on what you are trying to summon.”
“A fiend.”
Everyone at the table stopped eating.
“To ask about Fiends’ Night. That’s all,” I said.
“That is, I mean,” Tarryn stammered, “I cannot imagine why you would do that.”
“To find out why they’re coming to our valley.”
“Who?”
“The fiends.”
“They go most everywhere on Fiends’ Night.”
“Sure, but supposedly there’s going to be a large rift in this valley, with a whole host of them coming here. I want to understand why.”
“There are quite a few people here,” Skeld said. “And we’re a new village. They might think we’ll be ill prepared, and that makes us a tempting target.”
“You think it’s better than Osterstadt?” I asked. “They’ve got thousands upon thousands of people. We’re at, what, twenty-five hundred?”
“A tad over five thousand,” Bear the brownie offered.
“What? Th
at’s wild.”
“You keep bringing people home. All the Imperial refugees from Osterstadt.”
“We have nearly half a legion,” Skeld said.
“Yeah, but,” I stammered. “Well, I mean, I guess that sounds right.”
“Speaking of newcomers,” Skeld said, “you might want to work on getting some of them to stay here.”
“Me? Why me? And don’t say because I’m the duke.”
“I mean,” Ragnar said, “you are.”
“Yeah, but—”
“And the Hero of Osterstadt,” Bear offered.
“Okay, but—”
“And somehow surprisingly charismatic,” Tarryn added.
“Surprising?”
“Was to me,” Bear said.
“Any tips on who I should get to stay here?” I asked.
“Arno,” Bear offered quickly.
“Wait, can you summon—”
“Not doing it,” Bear said.
“Why not?”
“It’s a terrible idea.”
“Don’t you think it would be good to know why they’re coming here?”
“Why would they tell you the truth? And even if they did, what would you do with that knowledge? Go out and fight them?”
“Maybe.”
“Yeah, that’s going to end well,” Ragnar said. “You kill a few, then the big ones come and stomp all over you. And then all over us.”
“We’ve got half a legion, some of another legion, and a goodly chunk of the last Emperor’s thingmen. You think we’d just get steamrolled?”
“One,” Ragnar replied, “I have no idea what a steamroll is.”
“It’s—”
“Context clues pretty much clear it up — I get it. Two, yes. Whatever a steamroll does, a host of fiends would do that to us. Even if we had an entire Legion. Or two. Don’t you think armies would fight them off if they could? It’d be a massive XP boost, and you’d get showered in favors and riches from the celestial bounties. But no one would think about hitting fiends this close to a rift.”
“Why?”
“Because where do you think they get their reinforcements? Do you know how many fiends there actually are?”
“I’m assuming a lot.”
“More than a lot,” Bear said.
“Millions upon millions,” Tarryn said.
“And even the little ones have powers we don’t,” Ragnar said.
“And powers I don’t have,” Bear said.
“We haven’t even talked about the princes of darkness. You attract their attention, and someone will have to scrape us off their infernal hooves.”
“The princes of darkness?”
“The ones who rule over the hells.”
“Why would they come here?”
“They tend to frown on losing too many fiends. The whole thing is supposed to be when they build their numbers and power.”
“Why?”
I got some weird looks, and then Ragnar started nodding.
“Sorry,” he said. “I just, I mean, lately I’ve been forgetting where you come from. So, I just, you don’t know.”
“Sorry,” Tarryn said.
“Stop apologizing,” I snapped. “I need to know this stuff, so tell me.”
“The hells act as a beachhead, or a backstop I suppose, depending on your point of view,” Tarryn started.
“Bulwark,” Skeld offered.
“Right, that was the b-word I was looking for. A bulwark. They’re the line of defense between our plane and some of the more, um, terrible chunks of the universe. In particular, they have to go up against the Outside and the Abyss. Lots of nasties there who’d like nothing more than to sow destruction and chaos. And because the Hells do that, an agreement was brokered, which, among other things, allowed for Fiends’ Night.”
“Seems mostly fair. But, I mean, if everyone can just stay inside their home, who—”
“Fools,” Tarryn said. “And certain prisoners.”
“Prisoners?”
“Sometimes. In some places. At least, so I’ve heard.”
“It’s true,” Bear said. “At least as far as I have seen. Several nations use Fiends’ Night to get rid of their incarcerated. One night of ‘executions.’”
“Why doesn’t Glaton do it that way?”
“Don’t you think it a bit horrific to sentence someone to a lifetime in the Hells for a wrong they may have committed here,” Ragnar asked as he threw a bite of pie into the air to catch in his mouth.
“Good point,” I said, thinking back to my own brush with execution. Just getting my head cut off seemed barbaric. And while I had no idea what it was like being taken by a fiend, I couldn’t imagine it was a pleasant experience. Was it like dying? Did the fiend gain your soul through destruction of your corporeal form, or was your corporeal form taken down into the hells back through the portal? Also a good time to bring up the question: where did I learn the term corporeal?
“Listen,” Tarryn said, “I think I speak for all of us here at the hirð table when I say that Fiends’ Night is strange and scary, but we’ve all been through it more than a few times. The best thing to do is hunker down inside with a good book and a glass of wine.”
“Or a good nighttime companion,” Ragnar said, elbowing Skeld hard enough to edge the wolverine almost off his chair.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Skeld said in a monotone.
“Hunker down and get rid of reasons to go outside,” Bear said. “That’s the way to go about it.”
“What were the centaurs doing?” I asked.
“When?” Ragnar asked.
“When you left?”
“Running races.”
“Races?”
Skeld nodded. “That is certainly what it seemed.”
“That’s odd. Do you think they’ve got a setup for Fiends’ Night?”
“Their camp is fully assembled. Plenty of closed structures that could easily be made into ‘homes.’”
“Any chance you got more information about the culling?”
“The culling? Nothing that I heard. Still a mystery.”
“Makes me wonder how I’m supposed to be involved with whatever it might be.”
“What if the culling is just them forcing all their undesirables outside for fiends to take?” Bear asked, munching on an apple.
“You mean, like, they just kick everyone out of their tents and let the fiends come and do what they will?” I asked.
“Seems in the realm of possibility,” Skeld said. “They weren’t, um, I am trying to find a way to describe their actions while being polite and—”
“Don’t be polite,” I said.
“It seemed like they’re the types to take the easy way out with unpleasant things.”
“Well shit,” I said, pushing back from the table.
“But you’d want to talk to Lee before you get anything into your head,” Ragnar blurted. “He spent more time watching the centaurs than anyone else.”
“Guess I’m off to find Lee.”
“Any chance you know where Amber is?” Ragnar hollered as I strode away.
“No,” Skeld answered for me.
14
It was always harder to find someone in Vuldranni than I wanted it to be. I had an idea of where Lee might be, but that was a far cry from knowing where he was. Or rather, being able to contact him directly. Maybe my magic building could be a cell tower so we could get smart phones.
I paused to pet a passing dog — something I was glad to see more of in MountainHome — and continued moving through the halls. Lee wasn’t in the lower cantina. He wasn’t outside in the main grassy area, nor hanging out in the barn with his good friend Darius, another Earthborn person who was now a minotaur and in charge of our animals. I moved from the barn area to the farm area, but still no Lee.
Finally, I found him in the treasury, pacing slowly through our accumulated wealth with a clipboard in his hands.
“What’re you doi
ng?” I asked.
“Counting,” he replied, not looking at me. “More like double-checking my numbers.”
“Any particular reason?”
“Soothing.”
“You need to be soothed?”
“I don’t like to admit it, but maybe. Sometimes I have trouble accepting our reality.”
“Fiends’ Night?”
“It’s so odd, isn’t it? And disconcerting.”
He put the clipboard down and rubbed his eyes. Had there been a window in the room, he would’ve gone over to stare wistfully out of it. We were deep in the mountain, with more than a hundred feet of solid rock before the nearest ‘outside.’
“Demons just come and walk the surface?” Lee asked.
“Devils,” I corrected. “Apparently demons are different. They live in a different plane. And I definitely struggled to understand the whole thing until I—”
“Wait, you understand why it happens now?”
“Understand is a strong word, but I’ve got more a grasp. I was talking to my hirð about it, and they explained how it came about. That there’s some compact in place that allows the fiends to come gather souls, because the fiends operate as the defense against other worse things out there.”
“I would say something about it being a Faustian bargain, but I guess that’s exactly the definition.”
“I guess.”
“You don’t know what a Faustian bargain is, do you?”
“Not off-hand, no.”
“It’s—”
“I actually came to speak to you about something else, Lee.”
“Yes, your grace?”
“Knock that off,” I said, and Lee gave me a wry smile. He knew exactly how to push my buttons when he wanted. “I need to talk centaurs.”
“Our erstwhile neighbors to the north.”
“Those guys, yes.”
“What about them?”
“I have a bad feeling about this culling of theirs.”
“I mean, don’t we all?”
“Right, but Ragnar and Skeld said you spent some time watching them.”
“I did. I’m kind of fascinated with watching all these different cultures, seeing how they work. And a group that’s so different from humans, you know, they have such a unique physiology, and I want to know how that affects their culture and civilization.”
