“Yep, we figured it out,” Krolina replied. “Your guys are probably livid, no?”
Glen shook his head. “Oh-h, you don’t want to know. But it’s fine, we’ll get even. The Gray Witch won’t let that go.”
“What does the Witch have to do with anything?” I asked.
“Yesterday, she offered me a military alliance out of the blue. I was surprised, but that’s not the kind of offer you can turn down. This will all work out, at least. We’ll talk later—you’re heading to your other village?”
“For now, yes,” I replied, shocked by the news. Kro stood stock still, as well, looking at me with wide eyes.
It turned out, I’d played Miurat, and been played by the Gray Witch. Damn, what’s going to happen now? Glen was going to get her involved, she would press charges…
“The king is coming to.” Flosi ran up and shook me out of my unpleasant reverie. He’d survived, at least. Those Northerners can take anything. “He’s asking for you, König. I offered him ale, but he won’t touch it, so you’d better hurry.”
Flosi was obviously worried. The thought that someone might turn down ale of their own free will had sent him into a tizzy.
“Why didn’t you let me die?” Lossarnakh asked bitterly, holding his head. “That was dishonest.”
“Because we didn’t fail our mission,” I replied before seeing the confusion in his eyes and explaining what I meant. “We lost the battle, but not the war. The war has only just begun.”
Chapter Ten
On how important it is to be thorough.
“He’s dead!” Abigail’s shriek outdid even the uproar the villagers were making as they left for Glenn-Strad with their trunks and other things. My sister flew off the porch and came running toward us. “You’re a curse on our whole line, Hagen! First, my brother, and now, my fiancé?”
I’ve always loved how frank women are. First, I’d introduced her to Lossarnakh, then, I’d taken him away, and finally, I’d killed him. Through it all, everything was my fault. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she started to wonder whose idea going after the witch in the woods was—mine or Galing’s. May he rest in peace on whatever backup server he’s on.
“I’m alive, Lady Abigail,” Lossarnakh mumbled as he pulled himself up groaning off the ground. “Unfortunately.”
“You’re bleeding, my dear friend!” My sister, pale and shaking, crouched down tenderly, pulled a white lace handkerchief out of her sleeve and started dabbing at the back of the king-without-a-kingdom’s head. That could be a melodrama from the Middle Ages, right there. She would have made quite the name for herself in one of those. I really was going to have to turn tail and make a beeline out of the Borderlands if my plans worked, because I could tell that my head was starting to jiggle a little up on my shoulders.
“I’m fine,” Lossarnakh said, pushing her away and feeling his head. “What did you use on me?”
“A crowbar,” I replied innocently. Brother Herts, who was standing next to me, looked down. “You have a head like a rock, and that was all that would have done the trick.”
“But, why did you have to do it in the first place?” Lossarnakh looked around the fast-emptying Erinbug square. “I’m now completely disgraced. A week ago, I was just a fugitive; now, I’m a coward, too. I should have accepted my death in battle—it would have been better for everyone that way, including me.”
“You really are stubborn,” I exhaled. “Come on, the locals are one thing, since they’ve spent centuries squabbling with each other, but you’ve seen the world. You’ve talked with people, and you should have picked a few things up along the way. Who’s better off with a dead body? You can’t even make a fence with one of them. No, brother, we have a lot of fighting still to do before we forge your kingdom.”
“Leave my Lossie alone!” Abigail chimed in. “I have no idea how you wormed your way into my clan, but it doesn’t give you the right—”
“Woman, don’t butt into the conversation when men are talking!” Lossarnakh barked, and I practically jumped in surprise. “If you think you can speak your mind before we’re married, what’s it going to be like afterward? You go too far with my friend and your brother, too. Do you need me to teach you how to talk the way our forefathers used to do it?”
Hmm, well, that sounds interesting. I couldn’t imagine it didn’t involve some sort of abuse…
Abigail stuttered in surprise, though, to my great surprise, a second later, her eyes dropped, and she replied softly.
“Forgive me, My King. I did go too far. Brother, you forgive me, too.”
Huh. Maybe, I should try talking to her like that.
Suddenly, someone looking like Shelestova flashed through my mind. Why her? Why not Vika? It was my mind playing odd tricks on me, but, regardless, the face was laughing at me. No, that type of thing doesn’t work in the real world. It was a shame, too.
“Didn’t anyone survive besides us?” Lossarnakh asked, his voice already normal and missing its pained overtones. “How many people do we have left?”
“The Northerners and the knights are still ready to go, as are my people and Glen,” I replied. “There are about a hundred inquisitors in the other village, too. And, I imagine we’ll get some stragglers—some of them had to have survived.”
“In other words, our forces are shattered.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” I replied. “If we got everyone together, we’d have a solid three hundred and fifty men.”
“How many of them are gelts?” the king without a kingdom said quietly. “The rest are outsiders.”
“Who do you think stole your victory?” I asked just as quietly. “Don’t you think it’s time to change the terms of engagement? It’s not about dishonesty or cowardice; we’re just fighting fire with fire. The MacPratts cut Glen’s troops down using mercenaries who weren’t even allied with them, and we all saw it. Just ask Lennox—redhead, get over here.”
Lennox ran over, chewing on a crust of bread.
“King,” he said to Lossarnakh with a salute, though the latter just grimaced.
The redhead knew about our plans—there was no hiding them from the restless character. Ever since he’d overheard us talking, he’d drawn his own conclusions and started relating to Lossarnakh differently. He was an unusual gelt, progressive, even. And insatiable, too…
“MacSommers, did you see how our allies were treacherously slaughtered by the MacPratts’ mercenaries?” I asked him sternly and assertively.
“Of course! They came at them from the back, like snakes in the grass. Our guys didn’t even have time to react!”
I looked him in the eye. “And did you hear them shouting ‘death to the MacLynns’ and ‘for the MacPratts’?”
“Like I’m hearing you now,” Lennox replied without skipping a beat, eyes alight with understanding. “If I need to, I can attest to that before the clan council.”
“As can I,” Krolina chimed in. “Everyone else who survived the massacre can, too.”
“Our witnesses won’t sway the council,” Lossarnakh said, looking thoughtfully at Lennox. “We’re the losing clan, and all the arguments we might bring will be thrown out. But Lennox…”
“That means, all we have to do is survive until your council’s next meeting,” Slav said. “It looks like there’s a crowd of gelts coming at us from that way, and they don’t look friendly.”
“Ah, that Macmillan,” Lennox said, shaking his head and throwing the last of the bread in his mouth. “He must have diverted part of his forces from the very beginning. “So, are we going to fight or what?”
“Nope,” I jumped in before Lossarnakh could reply. “It isn’t worth dirtying our swords with the blood of oath-breakers.”
“Is that right?” snorted the king without a kingdom. “You’re awfully quick jumping to conclusions.”
“I’m quick with everything. There’s never enough time, and always plenty of problems to deal with. How’s the evacuation coming? Is everyone o
ut? The elderly, the kids, our supplies?”
The square was clear of everyone except our little circle, Gunther, who was standing a little ways off looking harrumphed, and Flosi. He and some Northerner were rolling a pair of plump barrels toward the center. Of course, there were also five or so players who were not sure what was going on.
“What about Tren-Bren?” I suddenly asked. The joke I’d blurted out at the knights’ fortress had unexpectedly come true, and I was starting to feel a fatherly affection for the restless and fidgety, though trusting girl. Mom is right—I need to think about having kids. “She’s going to show up right in the middle of all of them. How do we keep her from getting killed?”
Just then, Dorn appeared at the headstone, which was not far from where we were standing. His white underwear shone in the sun.
“Where were you?” Kro asked in surprise. “I thought you were in Glenn-Strad ready to meet the new arrivals.”
“Screw the new arrivals,” the dwarf spat. “I headed to the valley with the kid—I couldn’t let that tsunami with wings go by herself.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I replied, shaking my head. “What’s going on?”
“Oh, yes, this is the perfect time for that,” Slav said. “We can chat a little while longer, and then maybe do some fighting.”
I listened—the pattering feet and ringing weapons were already clearly audible. The MacPratts were in a hurry to claim what they considered theirs by right.
“Okay, let’s go.” The warrior was right—we needed to get out of there. “Dorn, sorry, but you’re going to have to come looking like that.”
“Like this? Are you kidding me?”
Krolina pulled out a portal scroll. “You’ll be like Peter the Great. He ran around without pants on, too, and he became the emperor.”
“But, I haven’t gotten anything,” Abigail yelped indignantly. “What about our gold? The other valuables? My dresses?”
“You shouldn’t have been hanging around here,” Lennox told her. “If you’d gone and gotten them…”
“Jackass,” the girl said through pursed lips.
“Family heirlooms are special,” I said thoughtfully. “How much time do you need to collect them?”
“Maybe five.” She hiked up her dress and dashed toward the house without waiting for permission.
“Go ahead,” I said to the rest. “I’ll keep an eye on her and follow you. She’s right—we can’t just leave the clan’s valuables for those bastards.”
“It’s risky,” Brother Herts said. “They’re going to be here in a few minutes.”
“Portals don’t work in buildings,” Krolina added. “You’re not a noob anymore—you know that.”
“We’ll have time,” I assured them. “When they get here, they’ll look around, and we’ll port from the porch before they notice us.”
Brother Herts wanted to say something, but Kro took him by the arm and threw him through the portal she opened. Everyone else followed, including a sullen and frowning Gunther.
A pillar of dust rose on the other side of the palisade fence—the detachment dashing toward the doomed village was a big one. I felt bad about losing somewhere I was starting to get attached to. They were going to lay waste to the whole thing, after all. Barbarians.
I sighed and hurried into the house, worried my sister might be wrapping up everything she could. We were going to have to do without the family pots and coat racks.
***
It was empty and quiet, which was unusual.
“Where is everyone?” Flosi asked. I was stunned to hear him. What’s he doing here?
The Northerner had walked out of a small door that must have led to the cellar and was standing there batting his eyes. His natural odor had taken on new tones, too—I could smell old alcohol on him.
“They left,” I said to his disappointment. He was holding a keg with a tap on his shoulder. “Abigail and I are the only ones still here.”
“Oh, we have guests,” Flosi said, walking over to the window and poking a finger in the direction of the northern gate. The MacPratts were leaping over it and dashing toward the door. “What are you doing, König? Let’s go! If they see us, we’re goners.”
Oh, why didn’t I think of that? If he only washed and drank less, the master strategist I had for a companion would have been great.
“Why are you still here?” Flosi said to me as he slid the deadbolt into place. “Either you’re going soft in the head, or you think your luck is good enough to get you out of anything.”
“I told you—Abby is here,” I said as I headed up the stairs. “You think I’m going to leave her?”
Flosi hurried after me, the keg under his arm. “Why not? There are plenty of girls out there, but there’s only one of you.”
There was no point arguing with the Northerner since the bearded children of the fjords had their system of values baked in over centuries of custom and practice. Women, unfortunately, ranked very low on the list.
Abigail was rushing around the room. Two bulky sacks were already on the floor, and a third was quickly filling up with some rags.
“Sis, we’re going,” I replied in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “Time’s up.”
The hubbub making its way up from the central square confirmed my sentiment. The MacPratts were in Erinbug.
Abigail stared at me. “Where’s Igrein’s sword? Did you get it?”
“Damn it!” I said as I flew out of the room. It was a rarity and a symbol of the clan, and I really couldn’t leave it behind. The clan leaders wouldn’t pardon that when it came time to figure out what happened. It was a good argument, too—I’d risked my life to save the heritage of our fathers. Nuances like that mattered in Fayroll, as a little shift to the right or left meant a world of difference. One centimeter and everything changed.
“König, they’re already here,” Flosi said, meeting me on the way with an unusually serious expression on his face. “If we don’t leave now, we’re never going to.”
I skipped past him. “Don’t worry, my ale-loving friend. It’ll be a cool day in hell before they take Hagen of Tronje.”
Grabbing the sword off the wall, I threw it into my bag and heard someone yank at the door.
I crept back to the room where Abigail was, doing my best not to make a noise. She had finished up with the third sack and was sitting on a narrow child’s cot. Flosi, standing off to the side from the window, was watching the square.
“They’re off to loot the houses. Time to get what’s theirs,” he said, hearing me walk into the room. “König, if we don’t want to be trophies, we’re going to have to leave now.”
“Sounds good to me,” I grinned as I reached into my bag. “They’re already on the porch, though, so we might have to do a tad bit of fighting.”
Flosi snarled murderously. “Let’s do it!”
Suddenly, the smile faded from my face. I don’t have any portal scrolls? There wasn’t a single one left.
“Wait, what?” I said, not realizing that I was talking aloud.
I’d just bought quite a few of them recently. What happened to them? On the other hand, I’d been doing a lot of running around between locations, so it wasn’t that much of a surprise. It was a moot point, at that moment. What are we going to do now? We’re trapped.
“Is something wrong?” Abigail asked worriedly.
“Everything’s wrong.” I walked over to the window and looked out carefully.
The MacPratts had fifty warriors in the square, and there were another fifty rummaging around in the houses. To finish off the picture, I noticed a few cocoons left where the lingering players had been cut down. Wow, why did they kill them?
“Well,” I heard a familiar voice call out loudly. The younger MacPratt rode into the square, sitting awkwardly on the back of a horse. “Did those cowardly dogs run like I said they would?”
“It’s Gward,” Abigail said, jumping up. “Hagen, what are you waiting fo
r? It’s going to be bad if he finds me. He doesn’t need me as a wife, anymore, so he’ll rape me and then let his warriors do whatever they want to me. I don’t want to die like that!”
“Oh, be quiet,” I said with a wave.
In my head, I was going through the different options.
Send Kro a message? The clan’s best could come piling out of a portal to cut up the whole crowd, and we could all leave together. No, that would wreck my plan. It would have been a low blow, and I needed Gward alive. There was something I had in mind for him.
Have someone mail me a scroll, make a break for the mailbox, and jump into it? There wasn’t enough time for that.
The hotel? That was a possibility. I could have rushed out the door, killed whoever happened to be in my way, and dashed into my room… There was time for that, but what was I going to do with the other two? Nobody would have faulted me for them dying. We were under attack, and that would even give me another argument when it came time to go after the McPratts—innocent Abigail, young as the dawn and tender as rose pollen, never getting to taste the love of the inconsolable king…
That was all well and good, but… It just wasn’t me. My sister was a pain, but I didn’t want it to end that way. Plus, there was Flosi, my faithful squire. We’d been through so much… Nope, no good.
“The house is barred,” called a voice from the square. “From the inside.”
“From the inside?” Gward said slowly. “So, there’s someone in there. Could my little bride be holed up in there? That rat from the West probably ran off and left her for us, the coward. No offense, brothers, but I get her first!”
Everyone else in the square cheered him on, realizing that him being first meant they were going to get their turn. My sister had guessed their plan.
“Hagen,” Abigail said, pale as a chicken breast. “I’m so scared.”
“Me, too,” I replied. “I don’t have any more portal scrolls; they ran out. It’s just—”
“You know, you are a MacLynn,” she said suddenly. “We’re the only ones who think with our you-know-whats, and that’s why we never live long. I wasn’t sure, but now it’s as clear as day—you may not be ours by blood, but you’re still ours.”
The Crown and the Key Page 16
