As a result of all that, there was no one to avenge the deaths of the MacMagnuses, as the code of the gelts held that only a blood relative or a friend had that right. Both the one and the other were in the ground, incapable of avenging anyone. Until I showed up.
“Now, Thane, you understand why I told you who the killer is?” The old man’s eyes flashed, his nostrils flared. He was the picture of righteous rage. “You can take on the sacred duty of blood vengeance. In my opinion, you have no other choice.”
“I understand,” I nodded. “Believe me, Bayron, I understand everything. You, on the other hand, appear to have been deceived by the way I look. I can assure you, even if I look like a fool, I am anything but.”
The bayron blinked and coughed in confusion.
“Let me explain.” I settled into my chair. “As you may have noticed, Bayron, I’m from the West. Over there, tricks like the ones your Rennor pulled couldn’t be any more normal. I personally participated in a palace coup not a week and a half ago, and we killed the king right there on his throne once we’d tricked him into abdicating. That’s just the way things are. Of course, even we don’t kill children. Although, even that’s not true: some kid was killed in the North. The könig up there told me all about it.”
“What dishonorable people,” Rinald snorted. “A dirty trick.”
“Agreed,” I nodded. “A dirty trick, indeed. But you’re trying to get me involved in something just as dirty, and you’re even trying to play me in the process. That’s not very honorable, is it?”
“Thane, you forget yourself,” the old man frowned. “To accuse a man in his own home…”
“Nobody’s accusing anyone,” I shot back. “If it’s not true, just answer one question: what’s the MacSummers’ interest in this? What do you care about who sits and rules in Morrigot? If it’s really about revenge, why have you waited this long? You were waiting for absolutely anyone with a right to it? And what if nobody had ever come?”
The old man sat silently, his eyes shining maliciously.
“See?” I raised a finger. “So it’s not about revenge. You’re trying to push me into another coup, something I don’t have the least use for, especially given how much of a pain it would be. Let me suggest a different option: explain what you want, why I have to be the one to get it for you, and what I get out of it—that way I might even agree. Forget the stories—let’s talk business.”
The bayron took a minute to drill into me with his eyes, after which he glanced quickly at Rinald. The latter stuck his head out the door, looked around, closed it, and stood near the entrance.
“It was worth a try, no?” Fergus asked, unperturbed. “It could have worked.”
“Agreed,” I nodded. “So what’s actually going on?”
It turned out to be very simple. The vile Rennor, having realized that breaking the law was simple and easy, especially when it’s unwritten, had gone completely overboard. First, the lords of Fassarlakh and Targot died mysteriously, and those cities found themselves under the growing MacLynn clan in a matter of hours. Then, some kind of disease cut through the Resling clan, the remnants of which were killed by troops commanded by Flank MacLynn in order to “keep the disease from spreading around the Borderlands.” Oddly enough, not a single one of the killers caught so much as a sniffle. The MacRury clan, a strong and friendly one, was cut down by the Stebbinses, who a week before had sworn allegiance to Rennor. That set a precedent: none of the clans had ever sworn allegiance to anyone before that, preferring death to such ignominy. MacLynn, his forces and lands growing, started to think seriously about crowning himself king of the Borderlands—also a first.
That worried the bayrons in the surrounding areas, but they were unable to do anything about it.
“Why not?” I couldn’t help but ask. “One archer in a good spot up on a roof, and your problem is taken care of simply and quickly.”
“No good,” the bayron responded, throwing his arms out. “That’s not our custom. If we start behaving the way he does, the warriors we’re telling about Rennor’s lawlessness won’t understand. We find ourselves backed into a corner, even as he keeps moving forward.”
“So you need someone with the right to kill Rennor?” I asked. “The legal right?”
“Yes, in an open duel, in keeping with the laws of the Borderlands. The best option would be to find someone who isn’t from our country—they can leave right afterward.”
“That’s a possibility,” I reasoned, “though I doubt that person will agree to a duel. I imagine I’d get taken out long before it ever started.”
“That’s not your problem,” Fergus said, perking up. “You’d have the best warriors from seven clans making sure that didn’t happen. We’ll challenge him to a battle, he won’t be able to decline, we’ll route his forces, and we’ll march into Morrigot. You’ll fight him there.”
“You’re a bunch of children,” I said with a sigh. “First of all, their spies will cut you bayrons down like cattle before the battle starts. Second, even if you win, he’ll turn tail and run as soon as he realizes all is lost.”
“He’s right,” Rinald said from the doorway. “Rennor will turn over command to Flank and get out of there.”
“Then we’ll lay siege,” Fergus said, looking at me. “A good, old siege.”
“The same thing will happen,” I replied. “No doubt about it. You need a slashing assault that’s too fast for anyone to react to. That isn’t against the rules, is it?”
“No,” Fergus said. “But he’ll find out about our campaign a long time before we get to the castle.”
“He won’t—collect your forces,” I said reassuringly. “I have a way to send troops wherever they need to go. It’s expensive, but…”
“We’ll refund any expenses you have,” Fergus said quickly. “Gelts aren’t rich, but we always pay our debts.”
“Oh, speaking of payment,” I said, snapping my fingers, “what do I personally get for this? I mean, besides compensation for my transportation services.”
“Fame,” the bayron replied with lowered eyebrows. “Your name will be respected by all the gelts.”
“That’s fantastic,” I said, “and I’m glad to hear it. But how about something more material?”
The old man exchanged a glance with Rinald.
“First, tell me this,” the bayron said slowly. “Are you accepting my offer?”
You unlocked Recompense.
Task: Kill Rennor MacLynn in a fair duel.
Additional Quest 1 (not required): Kill Flank MacLynn on your own or with the help of others.
Additional Quest 2 (not required): Help send the warriors to the walls of Morrigot Castle and help them take it.
Reward:
2000 experience
5000 gold
Renowned Borderlander Blade
+15 to your reputation among all the clans involved in your side of the assault
Additional information: If you complete Additional Quest 1, you will receive an additional reward:
1100 experience
Renowned Borderlander Cloak
Additional information: If you complete Additional Quest 2, you will receive an additional reward:
1100 experience
Renowned Borderlander Amulet
Warning: If Rennor MacLynn falls at the hand of someone else, you will fail the quest.
Warning: If the castle is not fully captured, you will fail Additional Quest 2. That will not affect the main quest.
Accept?
I snapped my fingers and turned back to the bayron, who was looking at me with a vaguely familiar squint, before accepting.
“Basically, it sounds good, but I have two conditions.”
“I’m listening.” Fergus tilted his head toward his left shoulder.
“The first,” I said, bending a finger, “is that I get to keep MacLynn’s crown. He has one, it’s golden, a family heirloom. If I have the chance, I’ll give it to Lane. Lossarnakh, I mean.”
“Agreed,” the bayron nodded. “We don’t need it, and his heir, if he needs one, can get a new one.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, surprised. “Who’s going to rule Morrigot afterward? What heir?”
“Rennor doesn’t have any children—legally, at least. And we’ll definitely kill Flank,” Rinald boomed. “So it’ll be his nephew on his father’s side, Rufus.”
“The boy’s only ten years old. He doesn’t have the right.” Fergus rubbed his forehead. “A regent will rule in his place.”
“Where’s he going to find a regent?” Rinald asked with a smirk. “We’re going to kill all of them.”
“What about one-legged Gessar? The one who lives near Lokh-Laid.”
“Wait a second,” I said, putting a stop to the argument. “You aren’t going to install your own governor in Morrigot?”
“Nope.” Fergus was putting all his cards on the table. “Obviously, they weren’t exactly honorable in how they took the castle and its lands, but they did take it. We’ll kill all the men, at least, all the men who serve Rennor. But what do the women and children have to do with anything? We’ll restore justice, solve our problems, and leave. And if someone wants to claim their debt of blood from the MacLynn clan later, that’s their business. Rinald, I don’t really care who the regent is. The most important thing is to stop Rennor. He’s just gathering land so far, but soon he’s going to move on to collecting people. Then we’ll start hearing young warriors talk about his actions without disgust—they’ll even begin admiring his victories.”
I really must have been a Westerner, because I was definitely missing something… Still, there was a certain flair to it.
“And the second condition?” Fergus reminded me. “What else do you want?”
“You’ll help me kill Isabelle Goud in Kallidon Forest,” I said with a placid smile. “That’s actually why I’m here.”
“Old Lady Goud?” Rinald gasped. Fergus didn’t say anything, though his gray eyebrows shot up.
“I’m sorry, Thane,” he said a minute later. “I can’t give you people for that. The old lady in the woods doesn’t excuse things like that, and I don’t want our crops to fail seven years in a row or our kids to start dying.”
“So the deal’s off,” I replied cynically. “That’s a shame.”
“Thane, hold on,” Rinald said, coming over. “I know a dozen warriors who would be happy to go with you. They’re from different clans, but they know what they’re doing. All of them have scores to settle with Old Lady Goud, and they’d follow a strong, daring leader—you know, one who killed Rennor MacLynn. There may be more of them—the old hag has crossed quite a few of us. I swear on my honor as a warrior, I’ll find them and suggest going with you.”
“Does that option work for you?” Fergus asked quickly.
“Completely.” I accepted the quest. “When are we heading out? The day after tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow,” Fergus said to my surprise. “Today is too soon, and the day after tomorrow could be too late. Rennor could sniff out our plans.”
“Things happen fast around here,” I replied. “Does that give you enough time to gather everyone?”
“That’s our problem. I’ll be expecting you here tomorrow at two in the afternoon, at which point we’ll discuss the plan with the leaders of the clans and head out.” Bayron let me know that my presence was no longer needed.
“I won’t let you down,” I assured him before leaving the building.
***
“Well, that was fast,” Vika said, even jumping a little when I walked into the kitchen. “Did the capsule break?”
“No, no,” I replied. “It works great. Today’s my day off, though, and I’m not about to spend the whole thing in the game.”
“If only it were a day off…” she sighed. “Call Maxim back—he called you twice.”
I grabbed my phone and dialed Zimin’s number.
“So he found you again?” Zimin said, jumping right in. “He’s a nimble one, always liked to be first. Sometimes he even was.”
“Probably,” I replied evasively. “He invited me to have tea with someone. A good guy, he said.”
“He’s in a hurry,” Zimin explained. “It’s strange—I feel like they aren’t the ones pulling the strings. It’s all kind of clumsy and doesn’t look that believable…not their way of doing things. And, of course, neither Azov nor the Old Man are in Moscow, and Kit blew it. This is a mess.”
“Nikita did his best,” I replied shortly. “He just got there a tad late.”
“One was late, another left, a third won’t pick up his phone,” Zimin said irritably.
“I don’t have my phone when I’m playing,” I said. “Nothing you can do there.”
Zimin sniffed before giving me another order.
“Make sure your phone is always on, both when you’re playing and when you’re not. And tell Vika to always answer when she sees it’s me or Kit calling. She can tell us where you are, and we’ll find you if you’re in the game.”
“Okay,” I said. “Your will is my command.”
“At least somebody knows what their job is,” Zimin sighed before hanging up.
“What did he want?” asked Vika, who was sitting across from me. “Was he mad?”
“No more than any other boss,” I replied with a shrug. “He said you’re supposed to answer when he calls, and when Nikita does, too. I mean, when I’m in the game.”
“Okay.” She saluted. “Consider it done!”
I finally got a good night’s sleep. The late gaming, the getting drunk, the nerves, and everything else…I hadn’t had the chance to really get some sleep and wake up like a normal human being—when my body was done sleeping, and not when my alarm rang. But that night it finally happened, and the next day I felt great. And when I logged into the game and saw the square in front of Fergus’s house full of warriors in different-colored kilts, that really did it for me. With an army like this, how can we lose? It was unthinkable. Although, of course, there would be a slaughter, and quite a bit of blood spilled…
Chapter Twenty-Three
In which swords clash and wounds are opened.
“And there’s our friend from the Western Reaches,” Bayron Fergus said, walking up behind me with a few other hefty men in kilts. They were a colorful group, the kind I’d only seen in biker clubs before that. They had sideburns, tattoos, missing teeth, scars covering their faces… If I’d met even one of them in a dark alley, I would have turned tail and run until I’d gotten to my apartment and locked the door behind me.
“A little whimpy,” one of them boomed. He had a curved pipe in his mouth. “Rennor will be too much for him.”
“Oh, please,” another one shot back at him. That character had a large scar covering his entire face, and I couldn’t even imagine what could have been used to make it. A file, maybe? “The littlest fleas bite hardest. I’ll bet you five sheep the little guy strips Rennor of his head.”
“You’re on.” The highlanders shook hands to confirm the deal.
Nobody else had any comments to make about my fighting abilities or appearance. They just looked me over and, I thought, forgot about me instantaneously. There were bigger fish to fry.
“Who’s going to be our geltmaster?” asked a big fellow with enough hair to make even Alex, Flosy’s shaggy friend, jealous.
“What’s he talking about?” I asked Rinald quietly when the latter came over to watch the proceedings respectfully.
“The geltmaster is a warlord. They pick him when they’re going on a campaign or siege,” Rinald answered just as quietly.
“What’s there to think about?” the warrior with the smoking pipe said as he scratched himself. “MacSummers gathered us, so he should lead us into battle.”
The rest nodded in agreement for a few seconds before staring at Fergus in anticipation of his instructions.
Once again, I was drawn to the group in front of me. Sure, they were digital,
and no, they weren’t real. But, damn it, they were good guys. In most cases, my fellow players probably (and definitely, in the case of a pick-up group) would have already have gotten into a fight, their mouths covered in beer foam, in an effort to prove who was worthy of leading the group. The loudest of them, I might add, would have been the first to abandon the group at the first sign of the first boss…
The bayron won me over completely when he didn’t bother to thank everyone present for the trust they’d placed in him, assuring them that he wouldn’t let them down and would definitely meet their expectations. Skipping that, he jumped straight down to business.
“Thane Hagen, how close to the gate will we be when you send us to Morrigot Castle?” he asked me.
“That depends on you,” I replied. “I haven’t been there, so I don’t know where to send you. I’ll give you the portal scrolls you need to get there, but you have to be the one to visualize where want to go. You decide how close you want to be to the gate.”
“Magic,” frowned a young warrior with a neatly trimmed beard. He was missing his left eye, and in its place was a leather patch with a white eyeball painted on it.
“Yes, MacLinds, magic,” Fergus said, looking him in the eye. “So what? It’s just as much a strategy as sending in your reserves or setting up an ambush in the forest. It isn’t a knife in the back, and it certainly isn’t poison in a bottle.”
A gray-mustachioed warrior with an enormous, two-handed axe that had clearly been made in the North smacked the squeamish MacLinds upside the head.
“The geltmaster knows what he’s doing.”
The bearded fellow sighed and held his tongue.
“How many scrolls do you have, Thane?” Fergus asked as he eyed me.
“Four,” I lied. There was no point just throwing them around, since I had no idea when I’d have the chance to stock up again. If they hadn’t heard of them there, the local traders probably didn’t have any for me.
Sicilian Defense Page 30
