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

by Wisher, James E

  “Those, my friend, are all excellent questions. Now, I doubt we’ll have any luck questioning Lord Shenk, but Allen and the bartender are another matter. How about we head over to the Thirsty Sprite and see what he has to say about this?”

  “That sounds like an excellent idea.” Kelten stood, more convinced than ever that Lord Shenk was involved in the king’s assassination. Not that his belief would be enough to convince King Wolfric. He needed proof, something more than the word of a crazy drunk.

  Nothing less would save him when Wolfric found out that he had disobeyed a direct order.

  Chapter 41

  There was a good crowd in the Thirsty Sprite, the best Allen had seen in weeks. Everyone was celebrating the Northern Army’s success and the ale was flowing freely. Word had spread quickly when a messenger arrived with tales of victory. From the sound of it, the wizards had proven their worth as well. Lord Shenk would be pleased. And a happy Lord Shenk was something Allen very much liked to see.

  He shivered. How could a teenager be so intimidating? Under other circumstances, Otto Shenk was the sort of person Allen would’ve kicked in the ass and sent scrambling.

  It was the magic of course. Nothing like being able to electrocute someone to death from half a city away to make them fear you.

  Allen shook off his worry. Lord Shenk was a thousand miles away and certainly too busy to be thinking about him. He might as well focus on the tavern finally making a bit of gold for a change. He scanned the room just to make sure no one was up to anything sketchy. He didn’t think about it anymore, it was a habit after running the place for the last few years.

  Speaking of sketchy, Sin walked through the door and caught his eye at once. She’d swapped her black leather for a simple green smock and plain wool cloak. Sin would have caught his eye at any time, but tonight she wasn’t giving him the sort of look he liked to get from a beautiful woman. This was more of a “we’re in trouble” kind of look.

  Allen nodded toward his office door and started working his way through the crowd. He had to be cursed. How long had it been since something went his way for more than a day at a time?

  “What is it?” Allen asked when she reached him.

  “One of my people got arrested and while he was in processing overheard the commander interrogating some crazy drunk who claimed to have seen a street battle that ended with a wizard killing most of the combatants before taking a trio hostage. He gave a pretty good description of you and your foreign friend. The third guy sounded a lot like a certain assassin.”

  Allen cursed every demon in hell. They’d cleared that neighborhood. No one should have been there to see anything. How could they have missed a crazy drunk?

  Not that it mattered. He’d be having company soon enough. “Thanks for the warning. I’ll be sure to pass along word of your good work to the boss when he returns.”

  “There’s more.”

  Allen suppressed a groan. Of course there was. “Let me have it.”

  “When I got word of what happened, I stationed a man outside watch headquarters. Not long ago, Captain Kelten of the palace guard went in. How much you want to bet I know what they were talking about?”

  “No bet. I need to make myself scarce. Thanks again.”

  Allen waved to get Ulf’s attention. He needed a place they could hide out in for a few days. Hopefully things would blow over by then. He’d leave the serving girls to run the tavern for tonight. They’d all worked for him for a while, so they’d manage. After that, it was just a matter of waiting.

  While Ulf finished pouring a drink, Allen flicked a glance at Sin who had settled on a stool. He’d expected the thief to disappear the moment her message was delivered. “Are you waiting for anything in particular?”

  Her smile was hot enough to melt steel. “I’m curious to see what happens when the hunters find their prey missing. We should arrange a meeting for tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, how about by the portal, say around noon?”

  “Perfect, that’s a nice short walk from my place. You’d best get going.”

  Ulf finally finished with his customer and joined them. He raised an eyebrow.

  “Trouble coming. Tell the girls they’re in charge and meet me out back.”

  Ulf nodded and Allen slipped through the kitchen door. His cook looked up from the stew pot he was tending. Allen offered no explanation, instead hurried past and out the rear door.

  The night was cool and quiet with no sign of watchmen. That was all he could hope for at the moment. The question now was, where did he go to hole up? The answer came to him a moment later. Erin and Eric had returned home for the night. They’d been staying with him long enough. It was time for them to return the favor.

  The moment Ulf emerged from the tavern they set out. The mercenaries lived all the way across the city. Right now, that sounded like a very good place to be.

  The walk from watch headquarters to the Thirsty Sprite took about ten minutes and Kelten resented every minute. It felt like the squad of watchmen they’d brought with them was dragging their feet, but Kelten knew it was only his anxiety talking. These were good men and he wouldn’t think ill of them.

  Allen, on the other hand, well, when he got his hands on that lying tavern keeper…

  He forced himself to relax. The truth was, their eyewitness wasn’t exactly reliable. Their only hope was to make it sound like he wasn’t a half-crazed drunk and hope they could intimidate Allen into telling the truth. It seemed a dim hope, but you never knew what might happen when you got someone alone in an interrogation room.

  When they finally arrived, the tavern was filled with a raucous crowd. He’d hoped to find the place less busy, but that wasn’t going to stop him. Trask deployed his men to surround the tavern in case there were any back doors or secret exits.

  When that was done the two men shared a look and Kelten led the way inside. Every table was packed with laughing, half-drunk patrons. Attractive servers in revealing uniforms carried trays back and forth from the bar and kitchen. Another pretty girl stood behind the bar serving drinks and laughing with the men seated on stools. There was no sign of Allen or his friend.

  It seemed impossible that neither of them was here on such a busy night. Kelten made his way to the bar and waved the bartender over.

  “What can I get you, sir?” she asked.

  “Your boss.”

  Kelten couldn’t deny her pout was adorable. “Allen went out on some business or other a few minutes ago. He took Ulf with him and left us to do all the work, the skunk. At least we won’t have to share our tips. If you want to leave a message, I’ll see that he gets it.”

  “It’s something we need to discuss in person. Do you know where they went?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Allen doesn’t tell me anything. You can wait if you like.”

  “No, I’ll try again another time. Thank you.”

  Kelten left the bar and rejoined Trask. “He slipped out ahead of us.”

  “I checked the common room,” Trask said. “They’re not hiding here. There’s an upstairs room, but I doubt he’d be dumb enough to hide there either. Someone must have warned him we were coming. Did you tell anyone about this?”

  “Not a soul. Could it have been a watchman on the take?”

  “I like to think not, but I can’t guarantee it. We’re not going to find him tonight. I’ll tell my people to keep an eye out. Soon enough he’ll poke his head out of whatever hole he’s crawled into and when he does, we’ll grab him.”

  Kelten hated waiting, but Trask was right. They’d blown their chance tonight.

  Chapter 42

  The Lady in Red, along with an honor guard of six burly infantrymen led by her chief security officer Mal, and her personal servant, a mute girl named Anna, stepped through the portal and emerged an instant later in Rolan City, the capital of Rolan. The moment they did, warmth rolled over them. They were over a thousand miles south of Marduke and the temperature difference was co
nsiderable, and welcome if she was honest. Cold, long winters might breed powerful warriors, but they had little else to recommend them.

  Normally, when she went to call on one of Straken’s allies, things were set up days in advance. A special envoy would be waiting to meet her and usher her to the royal palace. Today they were going to have to make the trip their own.

  They moved quickly out of the way to make room for the dozen merchant wagons passing through. War or not, business never stopped. That was one of the few things she loved about merchants, their focus. As long as there was coin to be made, they were making the effort to get it.

  “What now?” Mal asked.

  “Now we head to the castle and hope the king is in a reasonable mood.”

  She wasn’t at all confident that he would be. King Villares had a reputation for many things, but reasonableness wasn’t among them. Fortunately, he was terrified of Uther. That should aid her diplomacy a great deal.

  The country of Rolan was flat for the most part. There were a few small forests near the northern border and a range of hills to the southwest, but other than that it was level grassland crisscrossed by rivers and dotted with lakes. The combination of good land, plenty of water, and a long growing season made Rolan the largest agricultural producer on the continent. They were also the owners of the finest cavalry the world had ever seen. That was what the Lady needed. Straken’s own cavalry was a sad, meager collection of horses ridden by the few men they could find small enough not to break their backs.

  The Lady walked in the center of her guards, which obscured her view of the city. Not that there was much to see. Everything was done in shades of brown, including the people and their clothes. It was a fifteen-minute walk to the castle gates and when they arrived, Mal stepped aside to let her approach.

  The castle was surrounded by a fifteen-foot stone wall with an iron portcullis guarding the entrance. The stone and iron had both come from Straken, gifts to cement their alliance from Uther’s grandfather to Villares’s. The time and effort to build the bloody thing had been horrendous, but it had forged the two kingdoms’ bond into something strong. Hopefully Villares would remember that.

  She’d been here often enough that the guards on duty snapped to attention at her approach. They wore mail covered with a tabard emblazoned with a rearing stallion. “We had no word you were coming, ma’am. Please forgive the lack of an escort.”

  She smiled her best smile, the one that made men’s knees go weak, and said, “It was a sudden decision. I need to speak with King Villares on an urgent matter. If you could send word?”

  “Right away, ma’am.” The youngest of the four guards went running toward the castle.

  Twenty minutes later she found herself seated across a polished brass table from King Villares, a steaming cup of tea on a saucer in front of her. The king was dressed in fine gray robes, but that did nothing to take away from the worn and weathered look that made it clear he’d spent his share of days in the saddle.

  “What brings such a beautiful guest to visit me so suddenly?” King Villares asked.

  “Frankly, Your Majesty, I’m here to ask for your help. The Garenlanders have forced our army back across the border and they’ve brought their wizards with them. Their magic has proven very effective, to the tune of thousands dead. If you could spare us a legion of cavalry and as many wizards as possible, Uther would be most grateful.”

  King Villares’s smile had slowly faded while she spoke. “Uther assured me, assured all of us, when we agreed to support his move against Garenland, that they wouldn’t be a problem. Straken was to get the northern province, and we were to get the southern. Now you’re telling me your king was wrong about your ability to carry out your plans and you need me to save you. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, it is. When Uther made his plans, he made several assumptions that turned out to be wrong. The death of the former king puts his more aggressive son in command and no one could have guessed that they’d allow wizards to fight with the army. Wizards haven’t been permitted to use offensive magic since the forging of the compact.”

  “And once we kicked Garenland out of the compact, they no longer saw any reason to hold back,” Villares said. “It seems Uther didn’t think his plan through as thoroughly as he claimed. I see no reason why we should help you. Our efforts in the south are going well. My agent has already struck a deal with Garenland that basically allows us to keep what we’ve taken as long as we make no more aggressive moves. I believe I’ll pocket those extra thirty miles of territory and not push my luck.”

  The Lady’s heart sank. She’d hoped to manage this without threats, but Villares wasn’t giving her much choice.

  “You’re a wise man, Majesty, so I’m sure you know that the reason Garenland is allowing you to keep that territory is because they’re busy fighting us. Should Straken fall, you can be certain they’ll be coming for those thirty miles in your pocket. If you’d seen the reports I have, you’d be eager to avoid fighting in your own territory with no allies. Believe me when I say it isn’t a winning strategy.”

  The king scratched his goatee. “You make a compelling point. Straken is truly in danger of falling?”

  “I say with all honesty that without the aid of you and Tharanault, Marduke will be taken before the snows.”

  King Villares frowned and said, “It will take time to gather my forces but expect us within the week. I don’t know how much our wizards know about war, but they’ll learn or die.”

  The Lady in Red bowed her head in acknowledgment. The first step was taken. With Rolan on board, it would be easier to convince Tharanault. With more forces and wizards of their own, Straken would be able to fight Garenland on even terms.

  So let them come. They would find Marduke a far tougher nut to crack than they expected.

  Chapter 43

  Kelten received the king’s summons before he’d even begun his rounds. A member of the royal guard had appeared at the barracks with an official parchment signed by King Wolfric and bearing the royal seal. His heart lurched when he read the note. There wasn’t much really, just a command to follow the bearer immediately. Kelten wasn’t a political person, but he understood at once that ignoring this command would end with his head on a spike.

  And so he marched off behind the silent guard, through the familiar halls, to the throne room. The two men on duty outside the doors weren’t members of the palace guard. Kelten knew all his people and even if he hadn’t, they were dressed in black tabards with the royal griffin on the chest. More than the official note, seeing strangers on guard duty told him exactly how much trouble he was in.

  Inside, King Wolfric sat on his throne with Commander Borden at his side. The leader of the royal guard wore a grim scowl on his generally humorless face. His hand never strayed more than a few inches from the hilt of his sword. Kelten considered and immediately dismissed the question of whether he could defeat Borden in a fight. The notion that they might cross swords was ridiculous.

  Kelten stopped ten feet from the throne and bowed. “You summoned me, Majesty?”

  “I did. I have one question, Kelten. Was I at all unclear in my order to drop your pointless investigation into my father’s murder?”

  “No, you were perfectly clear, Majesty.”

  “Excellent. I’m pleased to hear that we agree on that at least. Now, given that my order was clear, why, exactly, are you still working with the city watch on this matter?”

  Kelten winced then frowned. “Did you have me followed, Majesty?”

  “Yes. Now answer my question.”

  Of all the responses Kelten had expected a blunt admission wasn’t one of them. “Trask got a new lead on the assassin and reached out to me. I didn’t believe hearing him out on my own time would be a violation of your order.”

  “And joining him on a raid, a failed raid mind you, that didn’t violate my order either?”

  “I have to know, Majesty. The uncertainty is driving me mad.”


  “No, Kelten.” The king leaned forward and stared hard into Kelten’s eyes. “What you had to do was obey. Since you appear incapable of doing that, I’m relieving you of your command, your rank, and your position in the castle. You will leave your uniform, armor, and weapons behind. Orders have been given that you are no longer welcome in the palace. Borden will be taking over your duties. The palace guard will be folded into the royal guard. Should any of your men prove as disloyal as you, they will join you on the street.”

  Kelten could only stare in dumb shock. All his life had been dedicated to serving the Crown. He couldn’t conceive of a life outside of that.

  “Borden, see this disloyal swine out of my castle.”

  “Majesty.” Borden strode down from the dais, stopped in front of Kelten, and raised an eyebrow.

  Kelten turned silently and trudged out. As they passed various guard stations, his men called out to him, but Kelten couldn’t find words to answer them.

  He wasn’t their commander anymore.

  He wasn’t anything.

  Back at the barracks, Borden watched him strip off his gear and change into civilian clothes. His meager personal possessions fit into a small satchel.

  At the side gate Borden shoved him through and said, “I hope it was worth it. Don’t come back. The archers have orders to shoot on sight.”

  With that final warning, Borden turned on his heel and marched back to the castle, leaving Kelten alone in the street.

  Wolfric wiped the sweat from his brow and shrugged out of his purple robe. It was a relief to have Kelten gone. Having him digging around in matters that didn’t concern him was stress Wolfric didn’t need. Things were going well in Straken and the merchants and nobles were happy about the bandits being eliminated. For the first time since he took his father’s throne, Wolfric felt like he had a good handle on his kingdom. There was still the matter of Rolan, but their defeat would come soon enough. Otto was right, one thing at a time.