The Great Northern War (The Portal Wars Saga Book 2)

by Wisher, James E

  “As long as the person running the joint is around, I don’t care about customers. Let’s go and keep your weapons handy.”

  Hans and the men shared a look then loosened their swords in their scabbards. Otto didn’t really expect trouble in an inn’s common room, but better to be prepared than not.

  He led the way downstairs, the floorboards creaking with every step. The railing looked like it might fall off if he put any weight on it and the paint was chipped and flaking. Clearly Grunewald had seen better days. In the common room, two tables were occupied by bronze-skinned men sporting beards and scars. One of them looked hard at Otto through his single eye. Otto stared back and he finally looked away.

  Behind the bar a gaunt woman in a red dress that might have been attractive on someone thirty years younger stood and watched them approach. Otto doubted she was the owner since women weren’t allowed to own property, but then again you never could say. Out on the frontier, the laws tended to be less well enforced. As long as she answered his questions, he’d be happy.

  “Didn’t see you come in,” the woman said when Otto stopped in front of her. She coughed up something and spat in a spittoon behind the bar.

  Otto suppressed a shudder. “I came in another way. I was hoping you could direct me to the local lord. King Wolfric has tasked me with determining the situation on the Rolan border.”

  “You from the capital?” she asked.

  “That’s right. The new king is curious about his subjects and I’m here to get him the information he needs.”

  Her laugh led to another coughing spell. When she’d spit and wiped her mouth on her sleeve she said, “No king has ever given a bent copper about us. Why does this one care?”

  “Given the current difficulties, His Majesty wants to be sure all his people are safe. Though things are bad in the north, he has no desire to ignore the rest of Garenland. So, do you know where I can find the local lord?”

  “Probably in the capital. Lazy turd never stays around here, too crude and poor. The tax men come real regular, but his high and mightiness just spends the coin on wine and whores.”

  “That won’t do at all. When I deliver my report, rest assured you will have a new lord soon enough.”

  She shrugged. “We get along fine on our own. One turd or another, don’t make no difference. If you want to know who’s in charge, that’d be Mendelson. You can find him and his boys at the Exchange, it’s the only stone building in town. You can’t miss it.”

  Otto nodded his thanks and slid a silver penny across the bar to her. When he turned back, the one-eyed man was gone as were the rest of his tablemates.

  The Exchange might have been the only stone building in Grunewald, but that didn’t make it impressive. It was built out of mortar and field stones, with no windows and a slate roof missing half its tiles. The building’s door, at least, was good, solid oak. Mendelson looked like he didn’t want any unwelcome visitors just walking in. If he was what Otto thought he was, his prudent precaution wouldn’t save him.

  The single-story building huddled in the center of a row of businesses lining the main, and only, street in town. Assuming you could call a dirt path a street. Shenk Barony wasn’t the richest in the kingdom, but even the poorest town in his father’s domain appeared rolling in wealth compared to this place. Aside from not wanting to give bandits a base of operations, Garenland might be better off letting Rolan have the town.

  “There were more people on the streets when we arrived, my lord,” Hans said.

  Considering there wasn’t a single person visible in either direction, there wouldn’t have had to be many. The emptiness of the streets set Otto’s teeth on edge. It felt like they were walking into a trap. After the one-eyed man had fled the inn, he’d been sure they were walking into a trap; the silent streets just confirmed his feeling.

  “Watch the rooftops,” Otto said.

  “We don’t have bows,” Hans said.

  “You don’t need bows; you just need to tell me someone’s up there and I’ll handle them. Shall we knock?”

  Hans hammered his fist against the door and when no one responded, drew his sword and slammed the pommel into it. At last the door opened a crack and a single beady eye looked out.

  “The Exchange is closed.” He tried to slam the door but Hans jammed his boot in the crack.

  “We are representatives of the king,” Otto said. “I wish to speak to Mendelson.”

  “He’s busy.”

  “I fear I must insist. Hans?”

  The burly sergeant put his shoulder to the door and shoved. The owner of the beady eyes sprawled on the floor and stared up at Otto when he walked in. “You are dead.”

  Hans and his fellow soldiers chuckled and the last one through shut the door behind him. The first room held little beyond a chair and the unpleasant man that had no doubt been sitting in it. A door led deeper into the building, though given its size, Otto doubted there were more than two rooms.

  “Is Mendelson back there?”

  Beady-Eyes scrambled to get up, but Hans kicked him over and put his sword to the man’s throat. “Lord Shenk asked you a question.”

  Before the man could answer, the back-room door opened and a whip-thin man in tan leathers stepped out. He had a curved cavalry saber at his waist and a thin mustache decorating his lip. Both the sword and mustache were popular in Rolan. Maybe it was a coincidence, but Otto doubted it.

  “You wish to speak with me, yes?” He said each word precisely, biting each one off before moving on to the next. “Would you mind letting Dermot up? The poor man has a delicate constitution.”

  Hans looked at Otto who nodded. The sergeant stepped back but didn’t sheathe his sword.

  “Thank you. As you no doubt guessed, I am Mendelson. I run this town. I understand you are messengers from the new king. What does His Majesty have to say?”

  “To a Rolan bandit?” Otto asked. “Nothing. I will say that you have one hour to collect your trash and get back across the border. Should you or any of your flunkies still be here at the end of that hour, we’ll kill you all and hang your bodies from the nearest tree.”

  Mendelson threw back his head and laughed. “If you wish to drive me from my new home, you should have brought more than six men. My new friend. I fear you misunderstand the situation. This is now Rolan and you are trespassing. Here is my counteroffer. I will allow you and your men to leave so you may carry a message back to King Wolfric. Tell him the Rolan border now extends thirty miles north of its former position and should it be necessary our army will defend our new territory. I doubt your king wishes to fight a war on two fronts.”

  “Since when does a bandit speak for Rolan?” Otto asked.

  He tried to put up a brave act but Mendelson had a point. Garenland would be pushing its luck trying to fight two nations at once. The Southern Army wasn’t as large or skilled as the Northern Army. On the open plains against Rolan’s cavalry, it wasn’t a fight they wanted.

  “What made you think I was a bandit? I am Captain Mendelson of the Rolan First Cavalry.”

  “I will take your message to the king,” Otto said. “If you give your word of honor to end the bandit attacks outside of your new territory, he may look favorably on your proposal. Should the attacks continue, the Southern Army will march. Maybe you’ll win the war, but Rolan will bleed.”

  Mendelson’s confident smile turned cold. “I swear in the king’s name that as long as the Southern Army stays in its barracks, the attacks will stop.”

  Otto nodded, turned on his heel, and marched out with Hans and the others behind him.

  Chapter 27

  Captain Kelten had been working his way through every house in Gold Ward trying to figure out which one employed Lothair prior to him turning assassin. Twenty-three houses down and everyone claimed to have no idea who he was. The only ones he had left to check were the big shots. And if he was going to bother them, Kelten figured he might as well start with the biggest. Thus he found
himself approaching the gate to Franken Manner.

  The two guards on duty snapped to attention when he got close. Technically Kelten was investigating this matter during his off-hours, but he still wore his armor and tabard as he’d found they opened a lot of doors. Hopefully no one complained to the king. His Majesty was already at the edge of his patience with Kelten’s efforts and lack of results. If he didn’t find something soon, Kelten feared he’d be ordered to quit the investigation altogether.

  “How can we help you, sir?” the right-hand guard asked.

  “I’m investigating the assassin that murdered our late king. I have it on good authority that Lothair worked for someone in Gold Ward. I’m asking at every house and business if anyone remembers him.”

  The guards shared a look then the spokesman said, “Aye, he worked here for a few years.”

  Kelten straightened, his excitement rising. “What can you tell me about him?”

  “Not much, sir. He did his job, didn’t complain much, then one day he just run off and never came back. Next we heard of him was when he… well, you know.”

  “Rumor is he liked to moon over the master’s daughter,” the left-hand guard added, drawing a glare from his partner.

  “Lady Shenk is a beautiful girl,” the right-hand guard said. “She would catch any man’s eye.”

  It seemed there was more here than he’d first hoped. “Is Master Franken in? I’d like to speak to him about Lothair.”

  “He is, though whether he’ll see you or not I can’t say.” The right-hand guard motioned to his partner and they pulled the gate open for him. “You’ll have to inquire at the mansion.”

  “Thank you very much for your help.” Kelten hurried through and wound his way up a dirt path toward the mansion.

  He’d barely taken a step when the first explosion sounded. Kelten spun back around but the guards just waved him on. Not overly reassured, he set out a second time. He passed under trees that were partially green and partially bright orange. When he cleared them, he spotted a cloud of dust rising from the side of the estate. More explosions followed shortly thereafter.

  That was when he finally remembered. This was where the wizard recruits were training. He’d overheard some of the guardsmen talking about them. Kelten wasn’t sure how he felt about giving wizards the same rights as normal people much less having them serve in the army. Then again, no one had asked his opinion and they probably didn’t much care what he thought.

  He reached the front door and rapped several times with a heavy bronze knocker. The door opened a few seconds later. A thin, scowling man in a servant’s black and white uniform looked him over and asked, “Can I help you, sir?”

  Kelten gave the same speech he’d given the guards and said, “I’d like to speak to Master Franken.”

  “Lord Franken is busy arranging grain shipments.”

  Kelten frowned. “I thought the king had suspended shipments until the bandits had been wiped out.”

  The butler’s look of disdain would have curdled milk. “Lord Shenk eliminated the bandits a week ago. Any further delay may result in the harvest not reaching Garen before winter.”

  Kelten was about to argue that five minutes wouldn’t delay the harvest arriving when a short, round man with a bald head, dressed head to toe in silk robes came strolling into the entry hall.

  “Is there a problem?” the newcomer asked.

  “Master Cotton, I was just explaining to the gentleman that Lord Franken is indisposed.”

  Cotton smiled and said, “Yes, the master wouldn’t appreciate any interruptions. Perhaps I can be of some assistance? I oversee much of the day-to-day business of the Frankens’ affairs.”

  “Thank you. I’m here to inquire about a former mercenary in your employ. His name was Lothair and he murdered the late king.”

  “Ah. An ugly business that. Follow me, please. We can speak in my office.”

  Kelten fell in behind Cotton and after a short walk down the most exquisitely decorated halls he’d ever seen, including those of the palace, they arrived in an unassuming office. Cotton settled behind a desk made of dark wood that had a neat pile of papers on one corner and a gold ink pot and quill.

  Kelten sat in a leather chair that probably cost more than he made in six months. He hardly dared move for fear of scratching something.

  “Would you like a drink?” Cotton asked.

  “No, thank you, just information.”

  “Very well. There’s little enough I can tell you about Lothair. He wasn’t terribly remarkable. He worked for us for a few years then walked off in the middle of his shift, not to return. It’s just as well you ended up talking to me as Lord Franken has nothing to do with the guards.”

  Kelten was about to ask another question when someone knocked softly on the door and pushed it open. “Alaric? Do you know…”

  A beautiful girl in a blue dress, her round belly just starting to hint at the new life growing there, looked from Cotton to Kelten and back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you had a guest. I’ll come back later.”

  “Not at all, Annamaria. What did you need?”

  “I wondered if you knew what Father wanted for lunch. He didn’t tell me this morning and I hate to bother him.”

  “He said nothing to me. Perhaps a selection of his usual favorites?”

  “That would probably be best. Excuse me.”

  “A moment, Lady Shenk.” Was it Kelten’s imagination or did she wince at that name? “I was told a mercenary in your employ had an infatuation with you. Can you tell me if Lothair ever did or said anything that might give you the impression he planned something violent? Please, anything you can tell me would be helpful.”

  Annamaria put a hand to her lips. “Excuse me, I have to go.”

  When the door closed behind her Cotton’s good-natured expression went flat. “You should be ashamed of yourself, troubling a girl in her condition. I will bid you good day and offer you my promise not to mention your rudeness when Lord Shenk returns.”

  “Actually, I was hoping you could tell him I was here and ask him to seek me out when he has a chance. I’d like to ask him some questions as well.”

  “You want me to tell Lord Shenk that you were rude to his wife and that a commoner, whatever his rank might be, wants to talk to him? Not only talk to him but that he should go looking for said commoner. Have you never dealt with the nobility?”

  Kelten grimaced. Maybe he had gotten a little carried away. “You could phrase it a little differently than I did.”

  “Or maybe you could ask the king to pass your request on. Lord Shenk would actually listen to him. Good afternoon, sir. I believe you can find your own way out.”

  Kelten quickly made his way out of the mansion. He hadn’t learned much of value and he’d upset one of the most powerful families in the kingdom. At this rate, he’d be lucky if he didn’t end up as dead as the late king.

  Chapter 28

  Otto and his team took a different route back north. After the unsatisfying conversation he had with Mendelson, Otto was keen to reach the capital. He could have teleported through the ether, but he wanted to make a stop on the way. Lord Karonin’s armory was two days south of the city and he wanted to collect the giant suits of armor, one for Hans and each of his men. Activating them was going to be tricky, but hopefully by the time they reached the battlefield, Axel would have enough prisoners that he could spare a few.

  A day ago, they’d swapped their horses for wagons at a military supply depot and once again Otto found himself bouncing along on a hard seat. At least they’d gotten a final gasp of summer. It was warm enough that the men had shed their heavy cloaks. The weather wouldn’t last of course, but that was no reason not to enjoy the moment.

  “How do you think the king will take your news?” Hans asked. The good sergeant had been tiptoeing around the question ever since they left and Otto was relieved to have him finally speak his mind.

  “Not well, I’m sure. Knowing Wolfric
, he’ll probably want to order the Southern Army out at once. Hopefully I can dissuade him.”

  “Would it not be best to dislodge Rolan before they get too dug in?”

  “Of course, if we weren’t fighting a war on our northern border. Mendelson knew what he was talking about. A war on two fronts isn’t where we want to be. First, we crush Straken then we see if Rolan still wants to fight. With any luck they’ll just slink back where they came from, giving us time to consolidate. Then we can deal with everyone else who betrayed Garenland.”

  Otto closed his eyes and focused. They had to be getting close to the armory. He’d visited a number of times, but always via teleportation. This would be the first time he arrived at the front door, assuming he could find it. When he finally attuned himself to the marker’s vibration, he found they were nearly on top of it.

  “Keep your eyes peeled for a turnoff. We’re getting close. It should be on our left.”

  They rounded a bend in the road and off to the side was a faint path, now mostly grown over with shrubs and bushes. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, no one would ever spot it.

  “I’m not sure if we can force the wagons through that mess,” Hans said as he reined in.

  “I’ll open it up.”

  Otto wove a hoop of ether two feet wider than the wagons and three threads thick. In all it took fifteen threads’ worth of ether to make the spell. He set the hoop to spinning and guided it down the path.

  Brush flew every which way, neatly cut off at ground level. When Otto had cleared two wagon-lengths of undergrowth, Hans flicked his reins and followed the now-open path. The process wasn’t a quick one, but after nearly an hour they reached a clearing big enough to turn the wagons around.

  “There’s nothing here,” Hans said.

  “That’s where you’re mistaken, Sergeant.” Otto let his spell vanish and focused on the power directly in front of them.

  The armory’s magic screamed in the ether. He was only feet away.