by C S Vass
Faela huffed, wondering whether that had been meant as an insult. After all, one of them had been given their sword, the other a white slave’s dress.
“It doesn’t matter,” Yaura went on. “For the moment anyway, we’re being spared the auction block. You should look a little happier about that.”
Shrugging, Faela was inclined to agree.
King Kark, as it turned out, had a much less splendid palace than King Boldfrost. His court met in a crumbling building held up by high columns that may have once had some sort of spectacular glass ceiling, but now was simply an open expanse into the sky. As Faela and Yaura approached, they saw the scowling faces of several bandits. Jaraugh stood by the throne, along with a squat dwarf with braids in his red beard and a contemptuous look on his face.
“Welcome to my home,” the man on the throne said.
King Kark was younger than Faela expected, although she shouldn’t have been surprised, she realized. How long did the average bandit king expect to live? By her judgement he was a man in his thirties with a clean-shaven face, short cropped hair, and bronze crown fashioned into the shape of a ring of horses pursuing each other around his head.
“I’m honored to have a Shigata and a Star-blessed visit my realm,” King Kark said. A breeze from outside whipped through the crumbled walls of the building. “If you’ll forgive me, I care not for the purposeless niceties and endless bantering of words common in other courts, so I will get right to the point. I would like to recruit both of you into my service. Do you accept?”
Faela furrowed her brow. “Do we accept?” she snorted. “Perhaps that would have been a choice to offer us when we first met your humble servants?”
“Guard your tongue, woman,” Jaraugh snapped as he banged the butt of his spear on the ground.
Kark smiled. “It’s alright, Jaraugh. A fair question. With a fair answer. My servants did not know who you were or that I would value your service as free warriors. For that I ask no forgiveness. But you see, things have changed for the better. I am no longer offering you white dresses and a life on your backs. I’m offering you the chance to serve willingly and to a much higher purpose.”
“You dare—” Faela was cut off by Yaura who put her hand up, which greatly annoyed her.
“A choice,” Yaura said, calmly, “Is only a true choice if an offer can be declined without duress. What will happen to us if we refuse?”
“You will be given two horses, with saddle, and a reasonable pack of supplies to get you to the border of Killer’s Rest. You have my word that you will not be harmed on my orders.”
Yaura stared at King Kark, unblinking. “Not on your orders,” she said at last. “But Killer’s Rest is a dangerous place. We wouldn’t be the first women to disappear traveling its plains.”
“The world is a dangerous place,” Kark responded with a wave his hand. “What of it? I can offer you food and water. I can give you horses. I cannot clear every danger a woman faces in this world from her path. Show me a king who can, and I will gladly drop my crown and kneel at his feet.
“You dwell much on what if you refuse, but I implore you to think on what might happen if you accept. A Star-blessed elf and a Shigata. I think my message pertains greatly to the two of you. I think it is without a doubt in your best interest to listen.”
“Then speak,” Yaura said. “But don’t get your hopes up. You can buy a Shigata’s sword, but buying their service is a different matter altogether.”
Kark nodded. “Perhaps I’m not the best messenger to tell you of our plight. Our ambassador from the Jagjaw Mountains may be able to help. Tzuri-kai, please explain the situation to our guests.”
The squat dwarf stepped forward, his steel helm glistening in the sunlight. “It’s like this,” he coughed at once. “The non-humans are fucked.”
Faela waited for the dwarf to continue, but he appeared to be finished.
“Tzuri-Kai,” Kark said. “Would you please be so kind as to give a bit more detail?”
The dwarf rolled his eyes. Clearly he was not one for long-winded explanations. Coughing again, he said, “Very well. You’ve both been traveling the Southlands from what I’ve heard. You must know that all manner of creeping evil things are pouring out of Jagjaw. Well, that’s the home of my brothers and sisters. They need help. But they’re not the only ones.”
“Tell them of the trouble in Valencia, Tzuri-kai,” Kark pressed.
The dwarf nodded. “The pogroms have started. They deny it, but you mark my words. Elves, dwarves, ogres, even a stray sorceress. It matters not. I have informants placed in the city. Sylvester Shade, the bloody shit, has given the go ahead. They’re massacring anything that walks on two legs that’s not a human. Anything with the slightest whiff of magic about it.”
Faela felt her stomach clench. Could this really be happening now? While the West is under attack from the sun warriors? Why would Lord Shade allow such division when so much is at stake?
“Forgive me, King Kark,” Yaura said diplomatically. “Tragic as this trouble in Valencia may be, I fail to see how it is of concern to a bandit king on the other side of the continent.”
Kark’s smile dripped with pleasure. They were clearly getting to the moment that he had been waiting for. “Well said. I agree with you full-heartedly, Yaura. It is of no concern to a lonely bandit king in a lost corner of the continent what happens to the rest of you. However, as Lord of Valencia, I may wish to take these matters a bit more seriously.”
Faela almost laughed. “Lord of Valencia? A bold plan, King Kark. Tell me, even if you did instigate some sort of successful rebellion, even if you did manage to march an army across the continent without being massacred along the way, how do you think King Boldfrost will take the news that his loyal Lord of Valencia has been removed by a criminal?”
Again, Kark kept his smile and with it his smug aura of superiority. Faela hated speaking with men who thought themselves more intelligent, and Kark was that flaw personified.
“You can let me worry about such minor details. I assure you, nothing is being done without the most careful of planning. But we stray from the topic at hand. The concern is this: demons pour from the Blood Wood and the Jagjaw Mountains. Shade will use that as an excuse to continue his silent extermination of elves, dwarves, and ogres until it becomes not so much a silent extermination as a royal policy. You’ve already hinted that Boldfrost and Shade are close. I believe the King in Iryllium will allow this to continue.”
“I see,” Yaura said. “So you have a rather simple proposal. It’s in the interest of all creatures of magic, all non-humans, to take out Shade. You’re willing to help so long as you see yourself planted on his seat of power when all is said and done. Do I understand you correctly?”
“What’s to fucking wonder about?” Tzuri-kai blurted out suddenly. “The man is not asking you to take him on his word. Go to Valencia. Walk the streets. See the terror that befalls the non-humans. Speak with them. But do it fast. My people in Jagjaw are being squeezed from all sides. If we fail to act decisively and immediately, it may be too late. If we can’t retreat to Valencia—at the very least send the women and children there, then what hope is there? If Kark goes and gets his head chopped afterwards, what’s it to you or me?”
It was Yaura’s turn to smirk now. “Yes, it’s all quite simple. Except for some of the more minor details. Namely what you propose is nothing short of treason and open rebellion against the realm. And also that King Boldfrost will never allow such a weakness to haunt him. He will take the rebellion against Shade as an attack on him and hang you from the tallest tree in Iryllium.”
“Listen woman,” Tzuri-kai roared before Kark could speak. “Do you not understand? We don’t have to care. I’ve made it no secret to Kark. I could give a squirt of piss if he’s hung at the end of this adventure. He knows that. Says he has it handled. Maybe he does, but probably not. What’s it to me or you? Removing Shade is worth it. Do you not understand what could happen, where th
is could lead, if Valencia is allowed to pogrom us? There are whispers—not among my people, mind you, but whispers all the same among some of the folk in Jagjaw—that perhaps Julius Hercinium would be a kinder ruler to the dwarves, to the ogres, and yes, to the elves.” Tzuri-kai’s eyes fell on Faela as he mentioned the elves.
“Quite right,” Yaura acknowledged. “Assuming you’re correct in your assessment of Shade. And assuming there’s not a hole in the ground with my name waiting on it next to Kark’s at the end of this.”
“Everyone dies, Yaura,” Kark said calmly. “It’s what happens between now and then that matters.”
“A nice sentiment. Unfortunately for you, I also put some stock in how long it takes to get there as well. What would you even have us do? Go to Valencia? Assassinate Shade?”
“Immediately?” Kark scoffed. “No. I would not have you be motivated by simple promises of power or money alone. I want you go to Jagjaw and speak with the people there, then to Valencia to do the same. Time is limited, but we are not urgently pressed yet. You see, I don’t just want your sword alone, Yaura. I want to win the Shigata. An issue I would have taken up with the Sages, had not recent and unfortunate events prevented that possibility.”
Faela studied Yaura’s face carefully. It was still as stone. The Shigata was going to refuse. Faela knew it.
“Perhaps an arrangement is possible,” Yaura said, smiling once more. “However, I’ll need more than a pack mule from you, King Kark.”
Kark laughed. It was the warm laugh of a man who had just won. “I was hoping we would arrive here. Negotiations have always been my favorite part of ruling.”
Chapter 8
Wind whistled like a banshee through the Tower of the Bull. The large, circular chamber was kept warm by a squadron of squat, iron braziers fed with oil, but the biting gusts that flooded the exposed room through huge arched openings in the stonework shot through Brett’s cloak like knives through tender meat.
“Here I thought the King preferred to be known as a wolf,” Logun said as he gestured to the large fresco painting that depicted a roaring bull barreling through a winter storm.
Brett sighed. “The Tower of the Bull was a creation of King Uraniul Boldfrost over four centuries ago. He tried to have the Temple deify the animal as one of the gods of ice and shadow, but was denied his request.”
Logun smacked his lips after taking a gulp from a tankard of black ale. Just watching the Shigata made Brett shudder, and he sought respite in his own cup of steaming jasmine tea.
“In the East, their holy book warns of worshipping the ox,” Logun said without taking his eyes off the painting. “Sacred Jeresemeno supposedly said that when the people of the world bow down before the golden ox, fire will rain from the heavens and blanket the world in ash.” The Shigata smirked as a brilliant bolt of lightning veined the clouds over Ice Bay. “Think we’re in trouble?”
The Shigata’s smug smile made Brett bristle. “If Sacred Jeresemeno didn’t see fit to drown us in fire four centuries ago, then I don’t see why he should start now. But I didn’t ask you to come here so that we could discuss eastern theology.”
Logun turned. His beady blue eyes were transfixed on Brett. “No, I suppose not. You invited me here as a power move. To make me feel small in the presence of such magnificence so that you can ask me to stay here when you know I need to return to Black Wolf. Well, I suppose I’ve gotten a nice view out of the deal. Still, the hour grows late, and I’ve a long road before me. So tell me, Captain, can we shake hands and part ways peacefully?” Logun rose and extended his meaty hand.
Brett grimaced. “You speak like a fool. I brought you up here because it’s one of the few places inside Iryllium’s walls that I know we won’t be overheard. Now sit down, we have important matters to discuss.”
Logun obliged. Brett grew disquieted at the impudent look on the Shigata’s face. The look of an angry schoolboy in front of a teacher. The look of a rebel. What had he done to earn the Shigata’s scorn, and how could he reverse course?
“Allow me to—”
“No need,” Logun interrupted as he grabbed the pitcher of ale off the table and filled his own tankard before Brett could. The Shigata grinned villainously as he poured. “Go on. I believe you were about to tell me why it is that I’m here.”
Brett coughed uncomfortably. Something about the man made him feel so damn unsettled. I’m being foolish. I’m Captain of the Guard in the most important city in the world. What could a lone sword-for-hire frighten me with so?
“Well?”
“You’re not wrong,” Brett said. “I’m going to ask you to stay.”
“No.”
“Hear me out.”
“It’s not a money thing. Unduyo has been ravaged. The Shigata need to reconvene. You shouldn’t try to stop me, Brett. It’s in your interest to let me go. Castle Unduyo does more for the West’s defenses than anything your boys get done up here in these towers.”
Brett placed his hands on the table, perhaps to calm himself. “You’re being unwise. I understand that you’ve been informed as to the…uncertainty surrounding King Boldfrost’s condition. This could be a much bigger issue than Unduyo, which will be rebuilt whether you’re there or not.”
“Maybe our King is nuttier than a pack of squirrels,” Logun conceded. “What does that matter to me? My loyalty is first and foremost to my order. To the Sages and the Shigata. Have you forgotten that the Sages have been kidnapped by a traitor working here as an eastern operative? Why should I abandon them to stay here and babysit a prince?”
“I’ve forgotten nothing. It would be in the best interest of your order if you stayed.” Another blast of lightning lit the sky. “Should something befall Benjiko, the realm could find itself in a very uncertain situation regarding the next in line. Especially if the Tarsurians foresee that and try to take the opportunity to spread as much discord as possible. Tell me, Logun, would civil war suit the Shigata?”
“Then place more of your swords around the precious Prince if it’s so important to you,” Logun sneered. “There are decisions on Black Wolf that I need to be a part of.”
Brett straightened his back. “I could force you to stay,” he said. “I could deny the Shigata the required coin to rebuild. Tell me, would that be to your advantage, Logun?”
Logun didn’t take the bait for even a second. He laughed right in Brett’s face. “Go ahead, Captain. Not that you would. But I would truly love to see the lord’s of the realm falling over themselves to give assistance and win our favor from under the nose of the greedy King Boldfrost who won’t even spare a farthing to help his most elite fighters.”
“You dare suggest there’s so much as a whiff of disloyalty in this land?”
“Indeed I do dare. Or have all these missing Dragons simply decided to go for a long walk in the woods?”
Brett clenched his fists and felt his jaw tighten. “How would you know anything about that?”
Logun laughed again. “Calm down, Captain. The Shigata don’t have anything to do with your missing Star-blessed. We have our spies in the city that keep me well-informed to such matters. Don’t get indignant. I’m sure you have the same on our island. We’re aware the entire court is abuzz with whisperings that nobody knows what our King is doing with the Dragons from throughout the realm. With every single Dragon he ordered here. Tell me, Captain, do you think the lords of Western Gaellos were fond of that decision? Many of those Dragons were personal bodyguards to barons, bankers, business elite, and so on. Is Boldfrost really so arrogant as to think he could take all of them for himself and not rouse some ire?”
Brett was fuming. The arrogance of this man! To speak so brazenly about deeds that King Boldfrost would consider treason. He sipped his drink to calm himself. Perhaps there was a point underneath the bluster. Brett hadn’t actually considered the important truth: the Dragons came from somewhere. Of course there would be a number of offended lords. Not realizing that earlier had been sheer idiocy.<
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“I think we should both take a moment to reflect on the fact that we want the same thing here,” Brett said cautiously. “A stable Western Gaellos ruled by our current monarch until the day Benjiko Boldfrost ascends to the throne, and a strong Black Wolf where a well-armed and wealthy Shigata live in a powerful castle the likes of which the sun warriors will never be able to tear down again.”
Logun nodded. “Right you are, Captain,” he agreed. “I’ll get to work on the latter while you pursue the former.”
Logun stood to leave, his bald head glistening in the light of the fires. Another gust of wind howled through the tower sending the flames of the braziers dancing in the night.
“There’s something you’re forgetting,” Brett said. “A trifle, perhaps. One other thing that we both want.”
“Oh? What might that be?”
“The safety of your younger brother. He so stubbornly refused any help from you and returned to the Temple of Ice and Shadow. I wonder, how will the monks react to those strange scars he bears? Particularly if he decides to start prowling around on any moonlit walks.”
“I see.” Logun’s raspy baritone voice had lost all hint of amusement. “I’m glad to hear you share concern for my younger brother.”
“They’ll kill him, you know,” Brett said, gambling wildly on Logun’s reaction. “You can tell yourself that they won’t, but they will. It’s true they’ve been ambivalent about werewolves in the past. But the Cult of Ashanimara’s vicious attacks on this continent have changed that view. But they won’t just behead him in the Temple square. No, they’ll try to channel some of that beastly wolfish magic inside of him as an offering to one of their many mysterious gods. It won’t be pleasant for Paetrick.”
Logun laughed. What was he covering up behind that grim sound? Perhaps he was simply a black-hearted scoundrel who couldn’t care less about his younger sibling.
