Augury Answered

by Phillip Murrell

  Faint chanting eventually drifted from the chapel, another unfamiliar word that Ancestors’ Hand taught him. The incantation bothered Two Dogs, but he had to admit the music was lovely. The sweet sounds of unfamiliar instruments surrounded him until Swift Shot nudged his arm.

  “Look at that,” she said.

  Two Dogs focused his gaze. In the center of the town, rows of elaborate tables and chairs were arranged. Plates and goblets were placed with distinct planning. Two Dogs was about to ask Swift Shot for clarity when he recognized her intent.

  Servants who hadn’t been there all day poured liquid into the goblets at the most prestigious tables. At first, Two Dogs believed they were simply bringing out the ferm early, then he paid more attention. The men and one woman were pouring a small amount of a liquid into the goblets, then swirling the cups. They wiped the insides with the cloth napkins provided. Their behavior plainly indicated they were trying to be nonchalant. They probably shouldn’t have brought a woman with bright red hair, a feature Two Dogs had never seen before.

  Two Dogs allowed himself additional time to consider this woman with the unusual hair. She was young, likely barely into her twenties. She had a small body that many men would appreciate. Despite the men who clearly came with her, she looked to be the one in charge. Something about this woman commanded Two Dogs’ attention.

  “They’re Vikisotes,” Ancestors’ Hand whispered. “At least the men are. I don’t know where that woman calls home.”

  “Do the Vikisotes have any alliance with the Corlains?” Swift Shot asked.

  “No,” Ancestors’ Hand answered. “The Vikisotes have suffered at the hands of the Corlains. They used to have many apothecaries across Glostaimia, but the Corlains have killed the healers and destroyed the medicine.”

  “Why are the Corlains so cruel?” Two Dogs asked.

  He needed this answer.

  “Sick people are easily controlled. When a leader can heal a young child, the parents will do anything to ensure precious medicine is received,” Ancestors’ Hand answered.

  Two Dogs adjusted his cloak. His igsidian glowed as he firmly gripped his weapons. He wanted to kill the mayor and all the Corlains celebrating with him. These people had no right to their happiness when it was built on the suffering of so many.

  “We should speak with the Vikisotes,” Swift Shot said.

  “I agree. They’ll leave once their trap is set,” Two Dogs said.

  Two Dogs stood, but Ancestors’ Hand grabbed him and pulled him back down.

  “Stay seated. The mayor is returning,” she said.

  Two Dogs remained silent as he watched the Samburg elite walk in two files to their seats. The mayor and his bride were each dressed in purple. The remaining guests were in fancy outfits that looked far too uncomfortable to be practical. It took all of Two Dogs’ discipline not to rush his enemy. They wouldn’t be a match for him, not in those clothes with ceremonial weapons.

  Two Dogs searched for the redheaded woman. He expected to find her and her people to be quietly moving toward the nearest exit. Instead, they were positioning themselves around the tables. Their backs were always close to a location that looked prime for hiding a weapon. The men poured something into their hands and rubbed the liquid into their skin. Surprisingly, the woman didn’t, even when offered a little.

  “Are they seriously going to attack too?” Swift Shot asked.

  “It looks like it,” Two Dogs said.

  “How can you tell?” Ancestors’ Hand asked.

  “Trust us. A warrior can sense an approaching battle. The fact that those lazy Corlain bastards can’t tells me everything I need to know about them.”

  The mayor stood from his seat. He looked at his beautiful bride and raised his glass.

  “I’d like to thank you all for attending my wedding. I’ve searched many years for the perfect spouse, the woman who is my better in every aspect of the word. We’re dressed in purple to represent the royal status our relationship has, but I think we all know this kingdom only has a queen.”

  The guests laughed as if it was a hilarious joke. Two Dogs was still trying to decipher if the people were already drunk on ferm or simply being polite when the mayor spoke again.

  “I would be remiss if I didn’t offer special thanks to our guests, the Black Cloud and their astounding commander, Githinji.”

  Several men and women stood as the guests applauded once more. The leader was a fearsome-looking man, but without his armor, he wouldn’t be a threat. Once again, Two Dogs had to force himself to relax the hold he had on his weapons.

  “To my lovely bride,” the mayor said as he lifted his goblet higher.

  The other guests repeated the toast and swallowed a sip from their goblets. The Vikisotes pulled weapons from the barrels and haystacks surrounding the tables. They quickly threw on leather armor and strapped swords and daggers to their waists. Several grabbed bows and nocked arrows. They executed their tasks with efficient precision. Clearly, they’d spent days practicing the proper order of their attack. The Corlains may have noticed, but many were frightened by why the mayor, his bride, and those at the nearest tables to them were foaming at the mouth and convulsing. Two Dogs was unsure whether he was upset that the Black Cloud soldiers weren’t consuming alcohol or relieved. After all, poisoned men couldn’t fight him on the battlefield.

  “Sound the alarm!” Githinji shouted.

  Bells clamored as the Black Cloud formed a circle around Githinji. He allowed them to escort him away. Swift Shot aimed an arrow at the Black Cloud commander, but Ancestors’ Hand pulled her arms down.

  “No, you fool. We need to get out of here while we can,” she said.

  “We should help them,” Two Dogs argued.

  “We will. We’ll help the survivors, but these fools are sending a message, not trying to win a battle,” Ancestors’ Hand said.

  “She’s right,” Swift Shot said.

  Two Dogs nodded. “She is.”

  Two Dogs, Swift Shot, and Ancestors’ Hand rose from their disgusting positions. They each grabbed their weapons and stepped toward the east gate. Two Dogs’ conscience protested with each footstep. He continued to observe the battle and offered emotional support to the Vikisotes.

  The woman seemed to know her way around a sword. The Black Cloud soldiers may have retreated, but Samburg had its own force. Their armor was just as black and enchanted, but the soldier facing the redhead quickly discovered that sometimes plate armor was a burden that a nimble opponent could exploit. She ducked the swing of a halberd and shifted to the soldier’s right side and thrust with her sword. Her blow stabbed into the man’s armpit. She pressed the front of her shield against her pommel and pushed. Several inches of her blade burrowed into the man. She kicked his ribs once and forced his dead body into the table behind him.

  A Corlain soldier with a sword charged the woman from behind. She seemed distracted by another two soldiers coming from her front. Two Dogs winced as he prepared himself to watch this fascinating woman die. Swift Shot must have been just as enamored, because the man briefly had an arrow sticking out of his neck before it disappeared.

  “I saw her first,” Two Dogs joked.

  Swift Shot smiled and nodded.

  The woman was unaware she was just saved from death, but an older Vikisote seemed to offer the slightest of nods toward the Lacreechee. His attention soon went back to battling the three Corlains opposing him. His axe was swift as it battered the lesser men.

  The walls surrounding the city were high. Two Dogs looked up as Corlain soldiers with muskets lined the building. They aimed at the remaining Vikisotes and fired. Most of them missed, but some found their mark. At least four Vikisotes died, others had wounds, but one man apparently claimed priority.

  “Save the King!” the grizzled axe-wielding Vikisote shouted.

  He and the redhead grabbed a man writhing in pain. The soldiers on the walls reloaded. The Vikisotes had no chance of surviving this. Two Dogs decided
to change that fate.

  “Swift Shot, I need you to blow the guards off the walls,” Two Dogs commanded.

  “What happened to meeting them later?” she asked.

  “There won’t be a later if we don’t do something. Now shoot!” Two Dogs shouted.

  Swift Shot obeyed. She enhanced her arrows with tornado blasts of wind. Many guards on the north wall launched over the far side. Their screams perished beneath the next volley of musket shots. Thankfully, Two Dogs had erected a magical barrier over the woman and the wounded man who meant so much to her. The Vikisotes closest to her were spared a similar fate.

  “We’re making ourselves into targets,” Ancestors’ Hand warned.

  “Let them come,” Two Dogs responded. “Swift Shot, keep them down.”

  Swift Shot continued to fire her arrows. She alternated among the walls. The soldiers on top were no longer inclined to fight. They were obviously inexperienced with a magical battle.

  “The Vikisotes are heading for the north gate. If we don’t leave now, we’ll lose them in the wilderness,” Swift Shot said.

  “Give the Corlains something to worry about here,” Two Dogs said.

  Swift Shot nodded and fired arrows of fire into the hay set aside for the livestock. It didn’t take long for the fear of a burning city to trump all other concerns.

  “Let’s go,” Ancestors’ Hand said.

  Two Dogs grabbed his spear and ran toward the east gate. He allowed one last look. The city was burning, a statement was made, but Two Dogs swallowed as he saw the frightened eyes on the bodies of dead children. Two Dogs wasn’t sure how they died, but it reminded him of seeing the Corlain cannons decimate Proud Wall and the children he was protecting. It even reminded him of the Corlain drummer boy. Some guests killed by the Vikisote poison looked more like victims than warriors. Two Dogs knew in his heart that these people stole from Mother Turklyo. He also knew the only reason they looked peaceful was because they hadn’t had time to get their weapons and armor. Still, the Corlains started a war that led to children suffering. Two Dogs resolved himself to end the violence quickly.

  As Two Dogs led his companions to the east gate, he saw the portcullis close. Several soldiers blocked the exit with muskets and broadswords drawn.

  “Do you want this one or should I take it?” Swift Shot asked.

  Two Dogs lit up the night sky with his numerous stones. These soldiers would get the honor of being the first of many to die by his new spear. Two Dogs used his magic to increase his speed, strength, and resilience. He wouldn’t be able to fight for long at these levels, but the dozen soldiers in front of him wouldn’t require much time to kill.

  Two Dogs threw his spear a hundred yards. It hit the leader of the group squarely in his chest with enough force to launch him into the man behind him. Both were skewered. Two Dogs’ tomahawk followed. It split the helmet of the guard it hit and lodged itself in his head. Before the man fell to the ground, Two Dogs had closed the distance. He plucked his tomahawk from the dead soldier’s head and twirled as he intercepted the returning attacks by the Corlains. These men clearly lacked experience fighting Mother Turklyo’s children. After Two Dogs slaughtered two more soldiers, the rest attempted to flee. Two Dogs was unwilling to allow them this mercy.

  He grasped his spear from the two bodies it had joined. He twirled the weapon behind him and tripped one of the fleeing men. The young soldier begged for his life. His cowardice led to a more painful death. Two Dogs stabbed the man three times in his stomach. The man screamed with each wound. Two Dogs gave a war cry as he threw his spear again. Once more, it found itself between the shoulder blades of a fleeing Corlain.

  “We must leave now!” Ancestors’ Hand screamed.

  Despite watching a few soldiers scamper away, Two Dogs calmed himself enough to let them go. He grabbed his spear. Next, he put all his remaining reserves into augmenting his strength.

  “Allow me to get the door,” Two Dogs joked.

  He grasped the bars in the portcullis and strained, then ripped the gate and some stone it was secured to off the wall.

  “We’ve got Black Cloud coming toward us,” Swift Shot said as she fired lightning arrows at the approaching soldiers.

  They took up positions to return fire. Two Dogs had a better idea. He threw the portcullis at them. Combined with the fireball arrows that Swift Shot fired, Two Dogs and his allies had enough time to escape out the new east gate and into the safety of the wilderness.

  chapter 9

  “More bandages, now!” Faida shouted. “I need more hot water!”

  Her sleeves were soaked with Hafoca’s blood. She had the new king lying on the table in her small temple. Many of her figurines had been knocked away when the Vikisotes brought in their leader. Murid knew Faida was furious about the indiscretion, but few Vikisotes feared the gods for slight offenses. They were terrified of what would happen if a chosen king died on their watch, especially so soon after the last.

  “Bring me more ferm too!” Faida screamed.

  Murid stood against the wall as men and women obeyed her commands. Hafoca screamed as he was poked and prodded by Faida. She had two musket balls already sitting in a tray meant to receive offerings for the poor.

  “How many more are in him?” Murid asked.

  Faida didn’t look up as she dug once more into Hafoca’s flesh. Hafoca screamed throughout as Faida fiddled with the third musket ball lodged in his left thigh. She grimaced as she tried to clamp down on the elusive projectile. Hafoca shrieked again. Murid could sense many Vikisotes were uncomfortable with how effeminate his cries were.

  “Give him more ferm!” Murid screamed.

  Egill held a flask to Hafoca’s lips. The man drank greedily. He managed to swallow three gulps before something Faida did made him scream again. Ferm and saliva sprayed those surrounding the Vikisote king. Even Murid felt a little mist hit her arm, though she stood a meter away.

  “Hold him steady!” Faida demanded.

  Egill and a few others applied additional weight on Hafoca. The king voiced his disagreement. He kicked his leg while Faida operated. She lost hold of the medical tools. Both fell onto the dirty, blood-stained floor. The survivors of the Samburg ambush brought in most of the filth. Faida let out a frustrated sigh before reaching down and grabbing the tools. She briefly dipped them into a bowl of cloudy crimson water. She shook the instruments a few times, then proceeded to operate on Hafoca’s leg.

  Murid heard a sucking sound as Faida removed the musket ball from Hafoca’s leg. He screamed an extra octave as she finally retrieved the metal sphere from his thigh.

  “Was that it, Faida?” Murid asked.

  Faida shook her head solemnly. “I have no way of knowing. He had two wounds in his chest, one in his leg, and two more in his back. Some of them could be exit wounds, but he could also have two more in him.”

  “What do we need to do?” Murid asked.

  “He’s losing a lot of blood. We need to sear his flesh closed. He’ll bleed out before I finish searching for more musket balls. He lost a lot of blood just getting here,” Faida answered.

  “Will he survive?” Egill asked.

  A hush, except for the semi-lucid Hafoca, fell upon the room. Murid had asked herself the same question likely everyone in the room had. Still, to hear the question asked aloud was unsettling. Especially for her. She loved Hafoca but only as a pesky older brother. She enjoyed the privileges afforded her as the Queen of Vikisoteland, but she hadn’t given the country a male heir. She may not have been a virgin any longer, but something told her she wasn’t with child. That meant Hafoca’s death may have more impact on her immediate future than simply having to grieve as a widow.

  “Our king was blessed by the gods,” Faida said. “If they require his presence in Mount Heilagt, who are we to question that? He selected a queen who survived a massacre. I believe the gods may be making their will known.”

  Egill scoffed. “Perhaps if she had a son already, I could believ
e that, but if King Hafoca perishes tonight, that will hardly be proof the gods have chosen Queen Murid to lead our country.”

  “Don’t speak of my husband’s death!” Murid yelled, more for appearances than anything else. “And definitely do not speak of me as if I’m not in the room.”

  Egill offered a slight nod of apology. Faida beamed at Murid. Hafoca continued to scream.

  “Can we give him anything?” Murid asked. “Faida, what was that potion you had me drink to fall asleep when I escaped the Corlains as a child?”

  “That was popistra oil, and it was watered down,” Faida answered.

  “Can’t we give my husband any?”

  “That would be unwise. In his state, it’s just as likely to kill him as it is to help him,” Egill said.

  “But would it give him peace?” Murid asked. “He’s in so much pain right now.”

  “He’s in the pain the gods have willed. We must respect their decision. In a few hours, if he’s stable, I’ll be able to give him something to help with the pain,” Faida said.

  Hafoca screamed again. Egill and the Vikisote warriors nearby had to place additional weight to keep the man from thrashing. Tears streamed down Hafoca’s face. Murid pitied him. She needed him alive, but a large part of her soul begged her to help him die. It didn’t matter what it would mean to her future. She didn’t think queens still burned when their kings died. Faida had assured her that practice had gone out of fashion centuries ago.

  “I need a moment,” Murid said.

  She wiped genuine tears away as she pushed past the bodyguards to leave Faida’s chapel with haste. As Murid cleared the doorway, she felt a hand grab her. She turned to see Egill standing there.