“Yes, sir.”
Githinji nodded. Zoya rallied her troops and led them into the village. The battle, if you could even call it that, was decidedly one-sided. A few men and women tried to fight back. Their blunted blades and rusted tools were still clutched in their hands unused when the Corlains opened up with their muskets. Children whimpered, as they often did in battle. It was over in minutes. Not a single Black Cloud soldier was even injured. Githinji realized he should have expected that, but it was always nice to get confirmation of an opinion.
After Zoya segregated the adults, Githinji dismounted his horse and strode forward. As expected, most were crying and begging for their lives. Githinji searched the eyes of his prisoners. He knew he’d find the warriors hidden among the farmers. This particular village seemed to lack the former. One woman at least had enough spirit to gaze back at Githinji. He sighed and pointed at her.
“That one.”
Two Corlain skirmishers grabbed the woman and dragged her toward the nearest home. She screamed and kicked but didn’t cry. She would have to do.
A Corlain scout on horseback galloped to Githinji. “Sir, orders have come from Zonwalgoo!”
Githinji halted. He gestured for his skirmishers to take the woman into the home and wait. It wasn’t wise to ignore orders from the Corlain capital. That didn’t mean they were ever good news. Corla was an empire like none other, but decisions were slow and often wrong. Githinji suspected this new communique would inconvenience his mission to tame the frontier. He couldn’t be distracted from his mission in Vikisoteland.
The rider halted his horse and jumped from his saddle. He was out of breath as he handed the message to Zoya. She unsealed it and read the contents. The square paper had few words. Zoya hesitantly handed the message to Githinji.
“Just tell me what it said,” Githinji said.
“Sir, Zonwalgoo wants you to return. They require a full after-action review.”
“The action isn’t complete. We can’t give them a report on something that isn’t finished. They must know this.”
“Sir, would you like me to send a message saying as much?”
“This reeks of deception. A competing commander is trying to distract me from my mission so he can claim more of his own glory.”
“Perhaps, sir, but if it’s genuine—”
“If it’s genuine, they’ll send another. I’ll obey as commanded, but we need verification.”
“Shall I have the soldiers prepare our camp, sir?”
“No. We won’t halt our advance through Vikisoteland. Even a short delay can help the other commanders convince our leaders that my accomplishments are theirs. Tell the men to burn this village. Have them shackle the prisoners and move them back to the rear lines south of the frontier limit. We’ll continue north. How many more Vikisoteland villages are there between here and Hafoca’s ring fortress?”
“Two more villages and several isolated farms,” Zoya answered.
“Good. We’ll see to them as we have this village. That will be all, Zoya, I need to speak with our host.”
“Yes, sir.”
Zoya saluted Githinji. He returned the salute and stepped inside the longhouse. It was empty except for the prisoner and the pair of Corlain skirmishers that guarded her.
“Thank you. You may wait outside while I interrogate our guest,” Githinji said.
The two skirmishers nodded. They both left the room without a word spoken. The woman looked hesitantly at the skirmishers until they left. Once gone, the fear she displayed vanished.
“Would you care to take a seat?” Githinji asked as he pointed toward the bench on her side of the sole table.
“Thank you, sir.”
The woman sat on her side. Githinji removed his helmet and sat across from her.
“Give me your report,” Githinji said.
“Yes, sir. The Vikisotes constantly complain about taxes and regulations. There are secret meetings at night among the most vocal. They won’t allow women to listen in. I’m sorry, sir.”
Githinji held up a hand. “It’s not your fault. I understand. Did anyone from outside the village come or go on the nights of these secret meetings?”
“Most of the time strangers came earlier in the day.”
“Were any of them Namerians, or were they always Vikisotes?”
“Always Vikisotes, sir. Why?”
“Don’t worry about it. We’ve had some reports of alliances forming, but they sound new. Be on the lookout for any savages, though. They may have powers that will discover you.”
“The savages don’t frighten me, sir.”
Githinji chuckled. “Good. You wouldn’t be the woman for this job if every opponent caused you concern. Have your spies relayed information from the surrounding towns to you?”
“Not in the past two weeks. I’m due another report within the next seventy-two hours,” the spy answered.
“Understood. I’ll receive their reports in person as I move on to Hafoca’s fortress.”
“Will that be all, sir?”
Githinji steepled his fingers on the table. He considered how best to use his agent.
“That will be all. I believe you’re close to being able to get more information of the leaders between you and Hafoca. I’ll have to resort to unpleasant actions to ensure your ascendancy.”
“I understand, sir.”
“I’m going to strike you in the face to force you to bleed. I’ll also tear your dress and undergarments. Whichever man is most likely to take pity on you and have contacts is the man you will immediately seek comfort with. Cry and tell him how terrified you are having a Corlain’s child. These men will want to protect you. They’ll whisper secrets. Your job will be easier.”
“I understand, sir. Thank you for having so much trust in me.”
“Thank you for deserving it. I apologize.”
Githinji reached across the table and struck his spy in the face. His heavy gauntlet easily opened a gash on her forehead. Githinji smiled. His spy didn’t even reach up to touch the blood. She stood and placed her hands on the table. She screamed. It was a magnificent performance. She seemed to enjoy it as she ripped her own dress while crying pitifully. Githinji allowed her to act her role for a handful of minutes before clapping his hands once. The spy instantly stopped grunting and screaming. She changed her role to one of a recently violated woman, then whimpered and moaned on the table as Githinji left her to her “misery.”
chapter 11
Two Dogs sat on the posts of the fence surrounding the Vikisote training pit. Clouds covered the midday sun, making the temperate day slightly cool. Swift Shot rested her forearms on the topmost post and leaned in. Both Lacreechee watched as Murid engaged a Vikisote man with her sword and shield.
The man also had a sword and round shield. He parried Murid’s thrust with his shield. The man looked slightly younger than Murid. He wasn’t much larger either, but Murid had overextended herself. A more experienced warrior may have exploited her slip up, but the young man didn’t press the advantage. The two warriors each took a step away from each other and heaved with exhaustion.
“This is embarrassing to watch,” Swift Shot said to Two Dogs in Lacreechee.
He shrugged. “She’s giving up a lot of weight. She’ll still win the day. The boy doesn’t know what he’s doing, so his strength is barely an advantage.”
Two Dogs leaned in with interest as now it was the young man’s turn to overextend his thrust. Murid pushed his blade away with her shield and continued to roll around the weapon. She swung her sword in a wide arc as she spun against the man’s body. Her blade stopped moving when it rested on the man’s left shoulder. If it had been a battle, the man would’ve been a head shorter.
“I told you so,” Two Dogs said.
He stood and gave off a war cry while the Vikisotes applauded Murid’s win. Many Vikisotes turned and stared at Two Dogs. He didn’t give it much consideration. Their guttural screams and shouts were just as
odd to him.
Murid locked eyes with Two Dogs. He smiled at her. She removed her helmet and wiped sweat from her matted red hair. Those strange-colored locks still enchanted Two Dogs. She returned his awkward smile and approached.
“Congratulations,” Two Dogs said as she arrived.
“Thank you,” Murid responded.
“You don’t seem too tired,” Swift Shot said.
Murid shrugged. “I have to show these men I’m capable in combat. Weakness is easily replaced around here.”
“Who thinks you’re weak?” Two Dogs asked. “What I saw was a proud warrior showing her worth.”
Murid seemed skeptical. Two Dogs understood. In the few days he’d spent with the Vikisotes, he saw a clear hierarchy of men over women. Many cultures outside of Mother Turklyo’s children had the same issues. Two Dogs respected competence and loyalty far more than gender and facial hair.
“I’m not Vikisote by birth. I married into this culture. That and my husband’s condition means I’m not a favorite to remain queen. That’s why I’m working so hard to change perception.”
“In our tribe, the person with the best magic leads. Bright Stone was our most recent chief. She easily held off dozens of Corlains at one time. If another had been chief, we likely wouldn’t be standing here,” Swift Shot said.
“That would have been a sight to see,” Egill said.
His sudden appearance made Swift Shot and Murid stiffen. Two Dogs smiled at his Lacreechee friend for being so easily startled. He turned to face the Vikisote commander.
“Grab a good mug of ferm, and I’ll tell you about it sometime,” Two Dogs said.
“That will definitely happen in our future,” Egill said. “Vikisotes respect brave men. You saved us in Samburg. I’m your man, always. Sharing ferm with you would be a magnificent honor.”
Murid tensed at Egill’s words. She appeared to laugh it off, but Two Dogs sensed her betrayal at how quickly a stranger would gain his loyalty.
“You may not want to commit to that. This one can tell stories for a long time. Often, they end up being about himself,” Swift Shot teased.
Her comments seemed to erode any lingering tension coming from Murid. Either that, or she quickly recovered. She was an impressive person.
Two Dogs held out his hands and smirked. “I do have this exceptional story about hunting a massive bull turklyo.”
Now it was Swift Shot’s turn to smirk. She must have noticed how he neglected to mention her name regarding their recent history.
“You were quite impressive the other day when you arrived,” Egill said. “I wish the gods would bless us with the same magic your gods have blessed you.”
“Wise Mother Turklyo only blesses her children,” Ancestors’ Hand said.
The old woman must have tired of arguing with Faida about religion. The two women had quickly become bitter rivals. The only way Murid seemed capable of appeasing Faida was to finally agree to stop using magic to heal Hafoca. Regardless, the women had found new ways to bicker. The current contest apparently was about which was more devout to her chosen religion.
“That’s why the gods are more generous,” Faida quickly added.
Ancestors’ Hand turned to apparently confront the Vikisote healer, but Two Dogs clicked his tongue. Ancestors’ Hand surprisingly obeyed his command. She rested her hands on the posts of the pit. Two Dogs smiled as he saw her knuckles whiten from pressure.
“Faida, please respect our guests and their religion,” Murid said.
Faida grunted. “Some religion.”
Two Dogs clenched his teeth as Ancestors’ Hand dug her nails into the soft wood post. Two Dogs understood when she couldn’t hold her tongue after the barb against Mother Turklyo.
“Any one of us could take any ten of you without even trying,” Ancestors’ Hand boasted.
“I accept,” Egill quickly said.
“What?” Murid and Two Dogs asked together.
“I didn’t get my chance against this one at the western gate. My pride won’t let me sleep until I get a chance to prove myself against you in the pit.”
“Perhaps another time,” Two Dogs said.
He didn’t want to embarrass the Vikisote commander. He was close to cementing an alliance. Showing them up could jeopardize the relationship.
“You’re being polite. I can smell the warrior inside you. You want to test yourself against me just as much,” Egill said.
“Eventually,” Two Dogs admitted.
“Why wait?” Egill asked. “I’ll wager a full sack of Vikisote silver I can defeat you.”
“I don’t have coins, but since it means so much to you, I’ll fight you for honor,” Two Dogs said.
“Ha! You don’t have any of that either,” Swift Shot said.
Two Dogs glared at his friend. Somehow, she’d found a mug of ferm while the Vikisotes gathered around the two fighters. How she could put so much ferm away and still be such a formidable warrior, he’d never know.
“Have you forgotten what side you’re on?” Two Dogs asked Swift Shot.
She held up her mug for him to see. “This is a convincing argument for me to trade teams. It’s so sweet; you should try some.”
“So, what say you, Two Dogs?” Egill asked.
Two Dogs lifted his hands and slapped them onto his lap. He jumped from the fence post.
“I might as well show you now,” Two Dogs said. “What are the rules?”
The Vikisotes assembled cheered, except for Murid. She scrunched her face with apparent displeasure. Two Dogs considered changing his mind, then realized Egill was already explaining the rules.
“Pick your weapon. I don’t want unfamiliarity to be the reason you deny my victory. We fight to knock down, first blood, or until one of us yields. As long as you don’t try to kill me or seriously injure me, anything goes. However, you must stay inside the pit.”
“Understood,” Two Dogs said.
He grabbed his spear resting along the fence. He twirled it in front of him and descended the dirt slopes into the central arena inside the pit. The ground was rocky. It wouldn’t do to allow the powerful Vikisote to slam him into it.
Egill swung his axe before him. Two Dogs took a moment to ensure his tomahawk and knife were still in his belt. He almost felt bad for the Vikisote. There was no scenario where Two Dogs would lose to a single opponent not belonging to Mother Turklyo’s family. Two Dogs briefly considered fighting the man on equal footing and withholding his gifts, but he believed Egill would take more offense to that. He would demonstrate his strength to this man and further cement the man’s claim of loyalty to him.
“Are you ready?” Egill asked.
“Yes,” Two Dogs responded.
Egill raised his axe and roared. The Vikisotes watching roared as well. Two Dogs bit his tongue to keep from laughing. He gave his own war cry. He was honored when Swift Shot added a war cry of support. He knew she knew it was unnecessary, but apparently good ferm didn’t trump good friends.
Egill took two practice swings with his axe and charged. Two Dogs didn’t even raise his weapon. He simply placed all his magic into building a barrier between them. Egill quickly closed the distance and swung at Two Dogs. The moment his axe hit the barrier, a bright flash announced his ascendancy into the sky. Egill soared ten feet backward and landed hard. Two Dogs felt brief concern until he heard Egill laughing. Egill was slow to stand. Two Dogs walked over to him and placed his spear against Egill’s neck.
Egill waved his hand in surrender. “You’d already won by knocking me on my ass like that.”
Egill rubbed his backside as he hobbled toward the fence.
“Demon magic!” Faida accused. “They allow their souls to be corrupted.”
Two Dogs forced his mouth shut. That woman was trying his patience, but Murid cared about her. It would do no good to antagonize the queen’s confidante.
“That’s what all heathens say when they’re soundly beaten by Mother Turklyo’s magic. Much l
ess when it’s the chosen one from Mother Turklyo’s augury,” Ancestors’ Hand said.
Damn it. She had to bring up the augury. That would set the Vikisote healer off. Two Dogs wasn’t prepared for how Faida responded.
“The chosen one? The prophecy was written by our gods. You will not appropriate Queen Murid’s legacy!” Faida screamed.
Interesting. Apparently, the Vikisotes had a similar belief in a renowned warrior fighting for his people. Faida’s willingness to admit she believed a woman was the chosen one shocked Two Dogs. He doubted many of the Vikisote men agreed with her. Two Dogs looked at Murid for a response.
Murid looked conflicted. Ancestors’ Hand and Faida continued to bicker, but Two Dogs watched the queen. Two Dogs didn’t put much stock in hokey stories, but he sensed Murid’s displeasure. Did she believe? He needed to move the conversation away from one as volatile as religion.
“If your queen is the chosen one, shouldn’t she be able to defeat one of Mother Turklyo’s children?” Ancestors’ Hand asked.
“Enough, old woman. Behave yourself,” Two Dogs said.
Ancestors’ Hand looked embarrassed, shocked, and annoyed all at once. She opened her mouth to speak again but snapped it shut when Two Dogs glared at her.
“I can defeat him, if the gods will it,” Murid said.
All present turned to look at the young queen. Two Dogs expected her to burst into laughter, but her eyes were determined. She actually believed her boast!
“Will you face me?” Murid asked.
“Murid—” Two Dogs started.
“Queen Murid,” Egill interrupted.
“I apologize. Queen Murid, I think we should move on to speaking of strategy and alliances. You have your gods, we have Mother Turklyo. Let’s set the deities aside for a moment,” Two Dogs said.
“Are you afraid of a little girl?” Murid asked.
This time Two Dogs heard the humor in her voice. His thoughts wandered to their discussion from earlier. She had to know she’d lose, but perhaps that was the point. Egill lost in ten seconds. If the Vikisotes saw the queen fight the man who had so easily defeated their commander, more would respect her.
Augury Answered Page 13
