“Em?” Spirk asked.
“Em’s the first letter in ‘Mardine.” Long explained.
“Truly?” Spirk said. “What’s the second letter.”
“Vee,” Mardine answered, the trace of a smile on her lips.
“Really?” Spirk said again.
Everyone but Spirk exploded with laughter.
The merchant’s name was Fiebers, and he sold soap, which, not being considered a necessity amongst the region’s poor, did not sell particularly well. Hence, the low wages he offered his escort.
As he surveyed the cargo, Spirk whistled. Or tried to. “All hells but that’s a lot of soap!”
The merchant eyed him askance. “It is.”
“I bet you’ll make a fortune selling all that.” Spirk gushed enthusiastically.
Suddenly, the merchant got that look in his eye, that particular look that meant he thought he had the advantage. “Yes, well, I expect to. It’s worth a mountain of gold, you see.”
Long was about to intervene on Spirk’s behalf, but Janks put an arm across his chest and winked.
“A mountain of gold?” Spirk murmured. “What are you gonna do with all that money?”
“Well,” the merchant sighed. “The sad truth is, that’s more money than I can spend. I’ll probably have to dump some of this soap in the woods somewhere…”
“Wait!” Spirk said. “Don’t do that! I’ll…I’ll buy some off ya and then I’ll get rich, too!”
The merchant pretended to be thinking it over. From Rem’s perspective, he was overplaying his part. “I suppose I can part with a crate. But it’ll cost you twelve pennies a bar.”
“I’ll do it! I want it!” Spirk proclaimed.
“Er, Spirk,” Long intruded. “You’re only making twelve Shims a day on this job, and five of that goes to Mardine.”
“Oh,” Spirk said, clearly deflated. Just then, an idea came to him. Or near him. “I’ll work in trade for soap, then!” he declared.
“Done!” the merchant said, too quickly for Long, Janks or any of the others to intervene.
Long turned to his old companion, a look of disgust on his face. “You idiot! Now, the rest of us have to make up the difference in Em’s food money!”
Unable to retort, Janks rode his nag to the front of the wagon and started slowly towards the town gates. The merchant climbed onto the wagon-driver’s bench and flicked the reins on his horse, setting into motion after Janks. D’Kem and Mardine followed along on the wagon’s far side, while Long and Rem took the near. Spirk trailed behind, gazing lovingly at all of the soap that might someday be his.
*****
The End, At War
The End-of-All-Things sat astride his charger, atop a cliff overlooking the city he had just destroyed. Though the flames rising from the ruins were incredibly hot, Anders remained cold inside, impossibly, transcendently cold. Without taking his eyes off the fire, he raised a hand and summoned his generals to his side. The largest of them, Shere, spoke first.
“Lord?” he asked.
“The numbers.” Anders whispered, flatly.
“Numbers. Well, they’re all dead. As you commanded. The whole city. But, er, specifically…” he opened a scroll, “specifically, seventeen thousand, six hundred twenty three men, fifteen thousand, four hundred eleven woman, forty-two hundred and eighty-one female children, thirty-nine hundred and fifty male children.”
“And the infants?” Anders hissed.
“Four hundred and sixty six,” Shere replied. “All spitted, as you commanded.”
Anders turned and looked directly at Shere. “I believe I like you” he said.
Which was amongst the most disconcerting things Shere had ever heard in his life.
“I can taste your fear. Did you know that, General Shere?”
“As you say,” he answered.
“The scent of your sweat is many things to me. I know not only when you bathed last, but when you ate last. I know what you ate last. I taste the health of your internal organs. I know when you bedded a woman last. And I know whether she’s ever been with child.” Anders paused, watching his general for any response. “She has. Find that child, Shere, and bring it to me.”
Woodenly, Shere bowed at the waist, turned and made his way down the cliffside trail.
“General Kine,” Anders said.
“Here, Lord.”
“Tell me, how many cities above, say, twenty-five thousand remain on the continent?”
Kine’s eyes went wide. “A…a moment, Lord.” As he turned to consult his fellow generals, he collapsed in writhing fury. Looking up, the other generals saw Anders scowling at Kine, just before his body exploded in a shower of gore.
“General Omeyo!” Anders yelled.
“Twenty-seven, Lord. Twenty-seven of that population or higher.”
“And how long will it take to obliterate them all?”
“F-f-four-to-five years,” Omeyo stammered, nervously.
“Can you guess what I’m going to say to that, General?”
“I agree that it’s too long a time, Lord. We will find a way to reduce it.”
“Yes,” Anders smiled. “Or I will reduce you.”
The End-of-All-Things turned back towards the fire. Funny how it didn’t warm him, how it never warmed him. He would leave his remaining generals waiting at his back for the dismissal he would not grant them for hours. They were his dogs, and they would heel.
~ THREE ~
Vykers and Arune, In the Forest
Vykers felt the butt of a spear or some such in his shoulder and he bolted awake, his gloved hand already bringing his staff into attack position. As he got to his feet, he found himself surrounded by armed men on horseback.
Dammit, Burn! He thought at Arune. She had no physical responsibilities. Why had she let him be caught unawares like this? Unless…
Hear them out.
“I knew it,” Vykers grumbled. “I fucking knew it.”
One of the mounted men pushed forward until he was directly in front of Vykers. He was a big man, bigger than Vykers. Of middle age, balding and sporting an iron-gray beard, he was decked out in full armor, over which he wore a tabard with a crest the Reaper not seen before.
“Tarmun Vykers?” the man asked, in a rumbling bass.
Vykers was sure the Shaper had betrayed him. What he couldn’t fathom was why. Why rescue him from almost certain death, only to deliver him to…Vykers studied the odds, found them prohibitive.
“Yeah, I’m Vykers.” He paused. “Who in the infinite hells are you?”
“I am Den Marrish, Earl of Bransiel. These men and I have come to escort you to the Capital.”
“Which Capital?”
“You’re in the realm of the Virgin Queen.”
“Since when?”
“Her Majesty acquired these lands a fortnight past, through compact with Bysvaldia.”
“Well, that’s just great.” Vykers said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What are you planning for me in the Capital? A big parade? A holiday?”
“You’re to be turned over to her Most Excellent Majesty.”
Vykers started laughing, and the more he thought about his situation, the harder he laughed. When he looked up into a circle of bemused faces, he laughed even harder. At last, he fell to the ground, roaring uncontrollably as tears streamed down his face.
Vykers! Vykers! Arune called to him.
And again, he laughed harder.
Finally, impatience getting the best of him, Marrish drew his sword, prompting his fellows to do likewise. Vykers stopped laughing and got to his feet, angry now.
“Do you stupid fuckers want to die? ‘Cause I’ll kill the lot of you right now!” he bellowed. “I’ll shove those Mahnus-Be-Damned swords right up your asses!”
Marrish was not used to being spoken to in that manner, even by the likes of Tarmun Vykers, and he abruptly swung his sword at Vykers’ head, intending to brain him with the flat of it. In the blink of an eye, Vyker
s ducked the blow and pulled Marrish from his saddle and into the dirt. Before he could land any sort of blow, however, Marrish had dropped his sword and was gripping Vykers’ neck with both hands. So! Vykers thought, a challenge at last! He kneed the bigger man in the crotch and felt his grip weaken. Vykers was just about to deliver an elbow smash to his opponent’s jaw when the other men encircled him and began kicking and clubbing him.
“You boys are starting to piss me off!” Vykers yelled.
And then he blacked out.
*****
When he woke up again, he was tied up and draped across the back of a horse. Burner! he yelled in his mind.
Vykers?
What did you do to me?
I can’t afford to have you get killed, Arune explained.
Vykers seethed. He felt absolutely at the Shaper’s mercy, and he hated every second of it. He wanted her gone, but how could he achieve that without her stopping him?
You betrayed me, he said.
No, Arune countered. I’m trying to help you.
Oh, yeah, this is a big help! Tied to the back of a horse, taken somewhere against my will – much better than walking somewhere of my choosing under my own power.
Think, you big oaf! You’re being taken to see the most powerful woman in the world. If she’d wanted you dead, you’d be dead right now. But you’re still alive. Why do you suppose that is?
Rather than concede her point, Vykers simply brooded until he fell back asleep.
*****
Lunessfor was an ancient city. Nobody knew exactly how old, but she predated the Awakening by centuries, at least. Solving the mystery of her age was the sole occupation of some of her most celebrated scholars. Vykers didn’t give two pennies for that. She was an amazing city, that was all he knew, and he wanted every brick of her.
It had taken the Earl’s men eight days to get there, during which time Vykers knew not a moment of comfort. Halfway through the journey, though, the Earl had at least allowed Vykers to ride upright, if still tightly bound. The warrior was grateful for that much, anyway, as it afforded him a much better view of his surroundings and, since he had never been to Lunessfor before, he felt like the proverbial child near the honeypot.
“Nice little burg you got here!” Vykers called to the Earl.
Marrish slowed up, until Vykers drew even with him. “You’ll never see its like anywhere else,” he smiled proudly.
“How many people you got living here?”
“Why? Are you planning to sack the city?”
Vykers smiled back. “Might be.”
Marrish laughed.
Vykers joined him. “So…” he said, finally, “what’s this Queen of yours want with me?”
“If it were up to me, you’d be swinging from the gibbet by noon.”
“They tried to hang me once,” Vykers said, calmly. “Early in my career.”
“Ah, yes. I’ve heard that little fairy tale,” the Earl chuckled condescendingly.
“Fairy tale, is it? Hurt like you wouldn’t believe. My neck wouldn’t snap and my windpipe wouldn’t collapse. In the end, my captors decided to take me down and behead me, which, of course, was their final mistake.”
“I haven’t seen anything that convinces me you can defeat fifty men by yourself.”
“You took me half-asleep and half-starved. But we’ll have our reckoning one day, you and me.” Vykers assured him. “And it won’t be the stuff of fairytales, but nightmares.”
The Earl regarded him in silence a moment, and then said, “As you say,” before spurring his horse forward again towards the front of the column.
The trip through Lunessfor’s streets took the better part of the morning. Vykers was shocked by the diversity and variety of its people, its businesses and its architecture.
It is inspiring, isn’t it? Arune asked.
Vykers hadn’t answered any of the Shaper’s attempts at conversation in days. But he was feeling generous. Magnificent, he thought.
I can answer that question you had about the city’s size earlier. The last census showed this to be the largest city in the lawful realms, more than twice the size of my home city, Nespharia.
Nespharia, huh? Vykers thought, intrigued.
Yes. Arune answered, cautiously.
I knew a girl there, once.
A…girl.
A woman, then. A woman. But she had a girlish air about her.
The great Vykers, waxing nostalgic? Arune asked, at once skeptical and amused.
Never mind, then. I hate having you in my head like this. The sooner you’re gone, the better.
Vykers, I –
But he had closed down again.
The Queen’s castle was many times the size of most villages Vykers had visited; it was, in fact, a city unto itself, with its own guards, its own currency, even a slightly different take on the common language. It felt a little odd in the ears, but Vykers wasn’t troubled. Inside the gates, the Earl dismissed his men and joined a retinue of the Queen’s Swords, who led him and Vykers through labyrinthine hallways and corridors the opulence of which defied imagination. Surely, there was not so much wealth in all the world, much less under one roof. Finally, the Queen’s Swords halted outside an enormous pair of double doors, watched over by still more guards. The Captain of the Queen’s Swords exchanged a few quiet words with one of the door guards, who promptly turned to his partner, nodded and began to open the door. Moments later, the processional moved into the Royal Presence.
To call this new chamber a throne room would be making a molehill out of a mountain. It was simply vast – at least a hundred paces across, with ceilings equally high. Around its circumference stood a series of statues of Lunessfor’s previous rulers. Toward the back of the room was an enormous dais, reached by a long series of steps, atop which sat a monstrous throne. Vykers’ eyes were drawn, however, to a small chair at the foot of the dais, in which sat a smallish figure in black. Vykers noticed no less than fifty guards stationed at regular intervals around the chamber, with four more near the base of the dais. In the shadows at its side, Vykers spied another figure in long, colorless robes, perhaps attempting to remain inconspicuous. At last, Vykers and his escorts drew within fifteen paces of the figure in the chair, and everyone stopped moving. The Captain of the Queen’s Swords dropped to one knee and spoke.
“Majesty, as you commanded, we deliver Tarmun Vykers, the Reaper, into your hands.”
This was the Virgin Queen? She looked like an ancient gnome! Granted, her gown looked expensive and of intricate and complex design. Still…
Be very careful, Vykers, Arune thought at him.
The Queen walked, brazenly, right up to Vykers. After a moment, she snorted. “Hmph! I thought you’d be bigger.”
“Oh, I’m bigger,” Vykers smirked, “where it counts.”
The Captain of the Queen’s Swords made to draw his weapon, but Her Majesty stopped him with a gesture.
“Are you, indeed?” The Queen asked, raising an eyebrow. Turning to address her captain, she said, “You have done well, Captain. And you, as well, your Lordship. You and these others may retire now.”
The captain, his guards and the Earl, of course, immediately protested. “Your Majesty,” the Earl began, “is this…is this prudent?”
“We will see, soon enough. I have said you may go. Do not make me repeat myself.”
The captain and Earl exchanged looks of profound confusion and concern, but bowed to Her Majesty, turned and left, with the rest of Vykers’ escort. The Queen turned back to the warrior.
“Drop your hose and let us see this colossus.”
Vykers winced and looked about, taking in the distant guards and the figure in the shadows.
I don’t like this, Arune thought
“Was I unclear?” the Queen asked. “Drop your hose.”
Vykers shrugged, unlaced his britches and dropped them.
The Queen breathed a whimsical sigh. “Days gone by,” she mooned. “Days gone by.”
Seconds passed, and then she emerged from her reverie, hard and sharp as obsidian. “Any man can wield a massive sword. The question is whether you know how to use it.”
“But…they call you the Virgin Queen.”
“Propaganda,” she scoffed, dismissively.
“Surely you didn’t haul me in here to discuss my wedding tackle…”
Steel, Blood & Fire (Immortal Treachery Book 1) Page 7
