Scion of Two Pantheons

by Ted Striker

  A moment later the Laignach rose from the prostrate body and raised her bloody jaws into the sky. The triumphant, challenging howl that she sent forth echoed from the castle walls. Only then did the Wolf Change into a naked woman with half the mass of her animal alter ego and go quickly to bend over Bryan.

  A soldier drew his spear back to cast it at the Wyrg, and two arrows suddenly sprouted from his neck. Afixio’s voice boomed out of thin air with ear-stunning volume. “Hold!” it cried, echoing around the square. “The King of North Keep has died in the legal combat of a Challenge. The new King of North Keep is before you! Do not violate the legal succession!” A second soldier raised his bow in defiance of the command and four shafts punched through his body. If other soldiers were considering bold action, they smothered the urge.

  Shimshon cast his eyes about and stepped backward, his slim fingers closing in a steel grip on Ayabis’ arm just above her elbow. He squeezed, and she cried out in pain. “Come, my dear,” he said quietly. He showed her his dagger, held low and close to her stomach. “It seems that your hero has abandoned his agreement with me. Well, since he did not have the grace to pay for his insolence with his life, I suppose yours will have to do. You have two choices: you can leave quietly with me, now, and possibly receive some measure of mercy; or I can leave you here with your entrails hanging out. Choose quickly!”

  Then an icy cold blade pricked the back of his neck, and he heard the voice of the female Elf who had yelled for Bryan to run, now speaking as quietly as he. “Here’s a third choice, Ayabis. You could walk into the square and help Branna with Bryan. As for you, Captain, your choice is this: release the woman and your dagger right now, or I will push mine through your spine and out your throat.” Shimshon had fought Elves before. He knew that they were not prone to bluff. He opened both his hands and the dagger clattered to the ground. Ayabis wrenched away and ran to help the Wolf girl lift Bryan up.

  “Wise choice, Captain.”

  “You are all fools,” Shimshon said, keeping his tone level and calm. That cold, sharp point still hadn’t moved from the back of his neck. “There are two hundred Imperial Guardsmen surrounding you!”

  “A few less than that,” said the Elf, amused. A bow twanged and a man yelled out a choking cry for help. “And another one goes down. Captain, there are seventy archers, a hundred or so village levies with swords and spears, eighty wyrgs, a wizard, a Centaur and an Elf arrayed against you and your one hundred-fifty or -sixty soldiers, who are all out here in the middle of a clear killing ground. I doubt that any of you would survive the battle if you decide to fight. One thing is certain: you won’t live to know the outcome, because I will cut you down at the first sign of trouble. You made one good choice just now. Can you make another?”

  Chapter 44

  Bryan awoke slowly, which was a change. His training and lifestyle had cultivated the ability to go from full sleep to complete wakefulness instantly. It was a survival trait. Black operators who awoke groggy didn’t last long. He dismissed the errant thought as unimportant. His eyes focused on the golden dance of dust motes as they twirled through rays of sunshine that slanted in through an open window. He watched this miniature aerial show for a while and then allowed his gaze to travel downward until it found his hand where it rested in a silken coverlet.

  His nails seemed longer than he remembered. Usually he kept them well trimmed, another habit of his trade. He turned the hand to look at his palm and found that it was a slow process. Finally the hand turned over, the muscles of his arm and wrist tired and cramping from the effort. How bony the wrist was!

  {Slowly, my son. You diminished yourself greatly, and have been a long time recovering.}

  The wooden door to the room opened and a dark-haired woman entered. “I am so glad that you’re finally awake, milord King,” she said with a mocking curtsy. “You’ve been sleeping for half of a month.”

  “Wait. What? A month?”

  “Just half a month. Afixio said it was because you channeled too much life force through your body at one time. When you released it, it sucked a great portion of your own life-force out.”

  Afixio stomped through the door.

  “Ha! He lives! And it’s a good thing, too, because I’m getting tired of answering questions from your vassals. About time you took the reins of this kingdom and started pulling your weight as King.”

  “King. This is crazy,” said Bryan. “I’ve been here for what? Six months? And I’ve gone from kidnap victim to King. That’s a big leap, even by schizophrenic dream standards.”

  “I don’t really know what ‘schizophrenic’ means,” said Afixio, “but you are certainly right. Most people don’t go from vagabond to Wolf Lord to King in a few fortnights. Then again, most don’t rescue Wolf Princesses from evil kings, abuse magical powers almost to the point of death, or blast golems into rubble. That was impressive work, by the way. I would never have imagined that it could be done. Jwilla said the same. She has never seen a golem destroyed bare handed.” The old wizard felt Bryan’s head, then took his pulse without timing it and said, “You seem fit enough. You’ll probably feel extremely weak, though. In spite of that, you need to get up; you need to move and your kingdom needs you to put in an appearance, even if you don’t get into the heavy lifting of government just yet. All I ask is that you find some other fool to do it; sorting out squabbles makes me crazy. I want to get back to my research and the undemanding life of a Priest of Offett. As for you, take things easy. Eat a lot of fatty foods, a lot of sweet foods, drink mead rather than ale or whiskey for a few days. Do those strange dances you do, but keep the energy to yourself instead of expending it.” He turned to go, then turned back to Branna. “And none of that frenetic jumping about and hair pulling and screaming you like to call ‘humping.’ That can wait for a few days. Understood? Preferably until I’m re-installed in the other end of the castle so I don’t have to listen to all those . . . exertions.” He started to turn away, then reversed course one more time. “And I meant it when I said he needs to put in an appearance. Get him dressed, help him down the stairs. No fooling around! I mean it, now!”

  Branna looked at Bryan as the old man slammed the door.

  “I didn’t have the heart to tell him that he didn’t need to worry about us ‘pulling hair and jumping about,’” she said.

  Bryan grinned. “We seem to spend enough time together even without it.” He pushed up from the bed and swung his legs to the floor, then put his head down between his knees as a tide of dizziness threatened to sweep his consciousness away. Again.

  Instantly Branna was kneeling by him “Are you well? Shall I call Afixio back?”

  “No, no,” said Bryan, straightening up. “I just sat up too quickly. I’ll be all right.”

  “Yes, you will be,” said Branna. “Let me get your clothes.”

  “Thanks. So, I seem to recall dreaming about you tearing Porvir to pieces just before he killed me. Thanks for that, too.”

  “No thanks necessary.” The Wolf Queen grinned toothily. “It was my very great pleasure.” Branna shook out his breeches and knelt in front of him again.

  “You are not going to dress me like a baby.” Bryan straightened up, then put his head down again as another wave of vertigo assaulted him.

  Branna hadn’t changed position, but she was smiling in mock sweetness. “I am if you expect to get downstairs today, baby.”

  Bryan heard smothered laughter inside his head.

  Eventually they made it down the winding staircase to the castle’s great hall. Bryan had to admit, he felt pretty good. A little weak, maybe, but pretty good overall. Branna made sure he was seated, then called for food. Scrambled eggs came on a big platter. Another platter full of sausages came, and hot sweet bread, and sweet fruity wine in huge pitchers. Bryan, suddenly famished, made a colossal dent in the supply. He wished that he had coffee, but made do with the wine.

  Connor and Melthane came when Bryan was about finished. The soldier saluted, f
ist to chest, but the former Council Leader made a mere half-bow “I, ah, am very glad that you’ve come back from visiting the grave, lad – your Highness.”

  “I’ve heard that I was lucky to make it back,” said Bryan.

  “You were that, lad.” One ‘Highness’ a day was apparently Connor’s limit. He started right into his account. Good. He was taking his new position seriously. “That Imperial squint Shimshon is saying that you’re not legally King because Branna was the one that tore out Porvir’s throat. Balderdash. You defeated the King’s champion. That’s as good as defeating the King himself.”

  Melthane spoke, a simple soldier’s report: “We’ve got Shimshon in a fine room, all the food and maids he can use, and his men weaponless and under guard in their camp. We’re feeding them regular rations, and letting in such women as wish to go to them, but winter is approaching fast and you will want to make some decision about the rations we’re expending to keep all those men.”

  Connor continued, “The local lordlings have been clamoring about that, among other things. Afixio has been acting as seneschal up until now, but even though all here know and trust him, he hates it and they know it. They harangue him until his patience runs out and he gives in to their demands just to shut them up.”

  “He told me to find another person to do the job.” Bryan ate another sausage while he looked at the pair.

  {Either one of these is capable of doing the job,} said Perkunas.

  {True,} responded Bryan.

  {One is a straightforward soldier, with no guile, the other has a mind as tangled as a spider’s web. Which do you think is best for this job?} Mebd asked.

  Bryan poked his finger at Melthane. “How about you?” he said. “If I make you my seneschal, will you swear fealty to me?”

  The old soldier was taken aback. “Highness,” he said curtly, to cover his surprise, “I have neither the patience nor the experience in statecraft to handle such an assignment.”

  “But you know what it takes to outfit and lead an army. Logistics is the same whether for military units or civilian towns and farms. All of these landholders are military men. They will relate to you.” Bryan tapped his finger on the table. “Besides, this way you will be able to keep a closer eye on Ayabis.”

  “She will be here?”

  “Did you think that she would stay in Balstow?” Bryan shook his head. “No, I need her here, as well. She knows Shimshon, and we’ll need her to help watch that bastard.”

  “And what of me, Your Highness?” Connor said.

  “Connor, I need you to begin to organize a network of spies.”

  “Do you trust me with such a task?”

  “I do,” affirmed Bryan. “In fact, I can’t think of anyone better suited to the job.”

  “Thank you, Milord. You honor me greatly, and I won’t let you down.”

  “I expect nothing less. We need to neutralize Shimshon and the Empire. The way to do this is to control the information he sends to his masters, and to know everything that they tell him. You are a schemer, just as he is, so you will be able to make good guesses about his moves, especially if Ayabis is helping you with the knowledge she has of his character and habits. You and she will work together to keep the Captain in check.”

  The old Wolf grinned. “I will enjoy this, I think!”

  Bryan turned to Melthane. “So, Captain Melthane, what’s your answer?”

  The Captain nodded once. “I will do it,” he said simply.

  “Good. Now tell me: Is North Keep prepared for winter?”

  “Overall, yes. There are some places that may suffer, especially if we keep the Imperials through the winter.”

  “What about the Clan?” Bryan asked Connor.

  “Oh, we’re well set! The Clan is, I mean.” The Laignach cleared his throat, embarrassed by his gaffe. Exile was a very new and not entirely pleasant experience for him.

  Bryan could sympathize. Just a little. “Is the Clan well enough off to help out those in North Keep who will have need?”

  The light dawned quickly for Connor. The Laignach was a savvy politician as well as a first-rate manager. “Hah! An excellent fence-mending strategy! And we’ll remind them who has been keeping the bandits in check these past months. Bryan, you’ll be a great King!”

  “If you say so,” the reluctant King said.

  Chapter 45

  A Coronation was called in the Great Hall only a week later. Bryan was able to walk up the purple carpet of the great hall without help and kneel while Afixio placed the crown upon his head.

  Bryan was afraid that the wizard would pronounce some magic spell binding him to the land a la Excalibur, but it was a simple pronouncement accompanied by several throat clearings and a final pithy comment “Now you’re the King, youngster—er, Your Highness. Do good for your people. Anything you do will probably be better than they’ve had for the last five years.”

  After the cheering had died down, Bryan made a speech thanking everyone for their support. He continued, “In the past, the people of North keep have been the enemies of the Laignach. Things change. Now they are North Keep’s new ally.” That got no cheers, but no boo’s, either. “While Porvir lined his pockets and those of the Emperor, the Laignach of Clan Conroight patrolled the roads and protected your farms, villages and towns from bandits. Any of you with concerns may meet privately with me later.”

  Three separate barons took his offer. He assuaged the honest concerns of two landholders and told the third that his days as a highwayman were over.

  “You had a good run,” Bryan said quietly, “but I won’t turn a blind eye to your activities the way Porvir did. You have one last chance to run your estate honestly. If you can’t do it, you won’t have an estate to run anymore.”

  The Baron swore and produced a dagger, lunging at his new King. Bryan deflected the thrust and hit his attacker in the throat with his thumb. He leaned over and spoke as the fellow’s face purpled, lips working like a fish out of water as he tried vainly to get air past his swollen trachea. “That was not your best choice,” he said. The man stared at him with bulging eyes. “You had a good place; lots of barley fields, apple and cherry orchards. You could have lived comfortably as an honest man. Don’t worry about your family, though. They’ll be cared for.”

  Afterward, exhausted, he sat in the room and sipped sweet wine while people took the corpse away. “Take it with water,” cautioned Melthane. “You need to keep a clear head for a bit more.” Aodhan and Neit stood bodyguard now, close at hand with naked swords. “And no more private meetings. The boys will go wherever you go.”

  “We’ll have to enlarge the privy, then,” he said with a grin.

  “Even were Aodhan to go alone, you’d need to enlarge the privy.” jibed Neit.

  Shimshon was escorted in. “I noticed that I am no longer given the best room,” he said as he sat down. “Understandable, under the circumstances. You have shown wisdom thus far by treating me and my men well. Allowing us to return to the Imperial City would show even more wisdom.”

  Bryan snorted mockingly. “Perhaps even greater wisdom was shown in the letter that we sent to your Emperor on your behalf, explaining the change in management here at North Keep. It informed his Imperial Highness that the tribute is reduced in order to repair the damage King Porvir inflicted upon the kingdom. The letter also said that you have decided to stay with your troops for a time to assist in the transition of power. And here are the letters you tried to send.” He held up the three rolls of parchment he had taken from the pigeons the Imperial Captain had sent.

  Shimshom grinned in admiration. “So, you wish to play politics! Sending such a missive was a good opening gambit, but you must understand that the Empire will not take kindly to the reduction in its tribute. It isn’t the gold, of course, but the respect..”

  Bryan knew that of course it was the gold. The purpose of the tribute was to keep North Keep too poor to expand and compete with the Empire.

  Shimshom conti
nued, “Imperial Troops will come, hundreds of them, or even thousands, and we will take your castle, your heads, and your lands. Perhaps it will take years, but it will happen.”

  Bryan shrugged. “We can deal with that when it happens. Your letter – the one we wrote – was received in the capital, and a few days ago, a pigeon came for you with a missive asking for a complete report. We replied on your behalf once more, giving your recommendation of forbearance on the part of the Empire. Your opinion is that the new King will be a great asset, if cultivated ‘smoothly,’ I think was the word used. You counseled against sending more troops, saying that such a course could only create an unstable chaos in the North to the great detriment of Imperial interests. In fact, you have decided to stay longer to continue guiding King Bryan, but you feel so confident in his progress that you are sending the bulk of your company back. I’m telling you this, of course, just for your information.”

  Shimshon gaped. “But my communications to the Empire are encoded!”

  “Yes,” said Bryan. “A substitution cipher, numbers for letters, skipping every other letter and number. It took about a day to break it. It has been suggested that since we now have your code, we no longer need to keep you alive.” Ayabis quietly walked into the room and sat beside Bryan, right on cue.