“We’re almost there,” Murid said. “Leave the wagon here and follow me.”
Two Dogs obeyed. Murid dismounted and tied the reins to the wagon. She left her shield in the wagon but nocked an arrow as she crept into the foliage on the west side of the road. Two Dogs grabbed his spear and followed. His steps were so silent that Murid could have forgiven herself for forgetting he was there. Approximately thirty minutes later, she overlooked the den from atop the cave.
“Is this it?” Two Dogs whispered.
Murid nodded with a finger held to her lips and removed a small bag from her belt, then pulled magnesium flakes from a pouch. It worked last time; Murid just hoped there wasn’t a mother with a cub inside this den. Cricks were nocturnal creatures. She should be able to lure one out, assuming the den was inhabited.
Murid crept down the side of the cave. Two Dogs remained atop it with a radiant smile. She could feel the goodwill he sent her way. He pointed at her for a moment and smiled again. Murid didn’t know what he meant and let the action slip from her mind. She stood next to the opening to the den. Murid crouched and peered inside.
The den wasn’t too deep. Crick dens rarely were. A complex cave system would allow more scavengers to steal their meals. Besides humans, nothing was stupid enough to enter a crick den. Inside the den was the sleeping form of a single crick. It looked like a male. This was good. Males were much smaller and less ornery than their female counterparts.
Murid judged the distance to the animal. It looked to be about ten meters back. Murid checked the heft on her bag. She would mix the chemicals and throw it behind the crick. That should spook the animal into charging out. She’d likely get two or three shots before the crick either charged into the depths of the forest or turned to kill her. She’d have to make her arrows count. Thankfully, her grenade would make it less likely the crick would focus on her over its smoking pelt.
Murid placed the magnesium flakes inside the bag and gave it a quick shake. She felt warmth inside and didn’t hesitate; She threw the bag over the sleeping crick, then picked up her bow and nocked an arrow as the chemical reaction began. The small bag billowed with white smoke that burned the now alert crick. It charged the exit of the den. Murid shot an arrow at it but rushed her shot and missed. It was probably for the best because the wild crick raced past her without giving her a moment’s thought.
The crick rolled in the grass outside the cave. It couldn’t shake the smoke that seemed connected to its fur. Murid took her time with her second shot. Her arrow lodged itself in the top of the crick’s back. Murid had hoped to paralyze the animal, but the angry hiss springing from the crick’s pebbled lips proved that wasn’t the case. The animal turned to face her. It hissed again and charged. Murid had enough time to send a second arrow into the crick’s left shoulder. It hissed a third time and increased its pace. She, out of instinct, placed Hafoca’s bow in front of her moments before the animal collided with her.
The bow broke in half with the initial impact. Murid closed her eyes and cursed Two Dogs for not helping. A bright orange flash surrounded her and stopped the crick in its tracks. The animal looked dazed. It shook its head several times, standing mere centimeters in front of Murid. She didn’t understand what happened, but she wouldn’t waste the opportunity. She pulled her sword and plunged it into the crick’s throat. The beast hissed a final time and fell over, dead. Murid slumped against the rock wall of the cave’s exterior. Slow clapping surprised her.
“Amazing. I assume killing a crick by yourself will impress your countrymen?” Two Dogs said.
“No thanks to you,” Murid responded.
“No thanks to me? Do you normally smack a crick in the face with a bow and win?”
Murid remembered the orange flash. “What did you do to me?”
“Nothing to you. I placed a barrier around you. It looks like that was a good idea too.”
“So, that means it did take two of us.”
Two Dogs helped Murid to her feet. “It took two of us to keep you alive. You killed that monster on your own. My shield wouldn’t have lasted forever. If anyone asks, that was all you.”
Two Dogs pointed with his spear at the dead crick.
“Nobody’s going to ask,” a stranger said. “Kill the Namerian. Take the queen.”
Standing in front of Murid and Two Dogs were six men and women in green robes tightly wrapped around their bodies. Even their faces were covered. Only a thin window around their eyes exposed any skin. Murid hadn’t even heard them sneak up on her, but each of the Corlain scouts had a short blade with a square guard held in front. Some held the weapons with inverted grasps. Two Dogs seemed to seethe at the Namerian label.
“Perfect timing, bastards!” Two Dogs shouted.
Murid watched as the Lacreechee warrior sprang at the Corlains faster than she could blink. He speared the speaker through the chest, then kicked the woman on his left. Murid thought she heard ribs crack when Two Dogs connected with her body. Two Dogs released his spear as he rolled away from a Corlain sword attack. When Two Dogs came up, he had his tomahawk and knife held in his hands. Two Dogs parried and dodged as two Corlains engaged him with attacks nearly as fast as Two Dogs’ were.
Two Dogs was the obvious threat, and the Corlains clearly recognized it. Murid stood and drew her sword. She was tired of being ignored! Two Dogs charged and beheaded one of the swift Corlains. A woman near Murid turned and was skewered on the end of her sword.
Two Dogs continued to fight off the speedy attacks from the two Corlain he engaged. The wounded woman moaned on the ground as she writhed. That meant one was left for Murid to fight. She held her sword in front of her; her opponent did the same. They slowly circled each other as Murid searched for an opening. A scream behind her suggested Two Dogs had finished one of his targets.
The Corlain woman facing Murid faked a thrust, then followed with a slash. Her short sword parried Murid’s down. The woman swung back at Murid’s face. No bright flash prevented the dull edge of the woman’s sword from slapping against Murid’s face. She felt pain radiate along her jawline and took a stabilizing step backward.
Another pair of screams came from behind her. She barely got her sword in front of her before the woman could successfully slice her throat. The Corlain woman was extremely fast. Inhumanely fast, for a Corlain. She snapped a kick into Murid’s chest, then changed the angle of her foot as she kicked twice more to Murid’s face. She repressed the urge to vomit. The Corlain woman’s sword came down, but Two Dogs grabbed her wrist.
He had hatred in his eyes. The woman yelped as he crushed the bones in her wrist. The woman screamed as she tried to pry Two Dogs’ fingers with her free hand. Murid touched the blood coming from her face. She looked at the streak on her fingers. She wasn’t a vain woman, but now that someone appreciated her face, she didn’t want a sword wound to ruin it. Murid charged the woman as Two Dogs inflicted more pain on her. Her fingers wrapped around the Corlain’s neck. Two Dogs let go of the Corlain and stepped back. Murid forced the woman to the ground and mounted her.
The Corlain woman struggled under Murid, but she wasn’t strong enough to fight her way free. It felt like an eternity but likely only took a few minutes for the woman to die. As she expired, so did Murid’s bloodlust. Murid panted atop the woman for several breaths.
“I’m so glad I met you,” Two Dogs said.
He helped her to her feet.
“I feel the same. It looks like both of our hunts were successful.”
“Was there ever a doubt?”
There wasn’t. Two Dogs was the perfect complement to her.
“It’ll take me a few trips to get these bodies back to the wagon. Do you feel more comfortable waiting here or by the wagon?” Two Dogs asked.
“I’ll wait at the wagon. Our trophies are more likely to be found there.”
“I like the way you think.”
Two Dogs went about gathering the bodies. He started with the male crick. Murid helped him lift the
crick onto his broad shoulders. As she let go, an odor hit her. Murid sniffed her fingers. A minty urine smell was there that made her look at the Corlain bodies. She walked toward the first body and ripped off his green hood.
“Is something wrong?” Two Dogs asked.
Murid wiped a finger along his cheek and smelled it. She sniffed again to confirm her suspicion.
“I thought so,” she said.
Murid ripped open the robes covering the man. She rubbed her finger on his chest, then smelled again.
“Is this some kind of weird Vikisote tradition?” Two Dogs asked.
Murid smiled and laughed. “No, I was confirming a hunch. These Corlains fought very quickly.”
“Did they? I hadn’t noticed.”
Was he joking or being serious? Which answer was worse?
“They were.” Murid held her finger under Two Dogs’ nose. “This is why. They’ve covered themselves with crick oil.”
Two Dogs sniffed her finger and quickly moved his head away. “I know that smell. How exactly do you make crick oil?”
“Technically, it’s made from crick venom. Crick venom can be mixed with a lot of chemicals to make medicine or weapons. Crick oil is a blend with plants grown on farms to make people better fighters.”
“Better fighters?” Two Dogs scoffed. “It clearly didn’t work.”
“Crick oil is like your protector magic, though nowhere near as potent. Vikisotes use it before battles.”
Two Dogs seemed to consider something. “Not just before battle. Plenty of you wear the stuff daily.”
Murid shrugged. “Our warriors are always on guard.”
“I guess.” Two Dogs rubbed his chin. “I remember you putting some on before the Samburg battle.”
Murid nodded. “The others did. It made them faster and stronger. I’m surprised to see the Corlains using it. They always acted like their muskets were good enough. We just assumed they were too scared to harvest any from cricks.”
“Like I said, it didn’t work. Don’t worry about it.”
“Perhaps,” Murid said.
She didn’t like this. The Corlains stole everything else. This shouldn’t shock her, but it did.
“Are you ready? This thing isn’t exactly light.”
Two Dogs nudged the crick on his shoulders for emphasis.
“I’m coming,” Murid said.
It took three trips to get all six bodies and the crick back to the wagon. Thankfully nobody else, man nor animal, disturbed them. When they made it back to the ring fortress, they were practically worshipped. The honey ferm was passed with vigor as Murid had to tell the story a dozen times. Two Dogs graciously gave her all the credit. Some Vikisotes seemed to doubt the claim, but the bodies were all the proof she needed. After all, why would a man allow a woman to claim his accomplishments? Murid was proud of her true contributions but appreciated what Two Dogs did for her. More than once she had to force herself from staring at Two Dogs while sitting next to each other by the campfire.
chapter 13
Two Dogs sat on a bench along the massive longhouse serving as the Vikisote celebration hall. All around him, Vikisotes dressed in their finest clothing, adorned with golden jewelry and mingled in various states of inebriation. A plate of roasted crick sat next to him. The meat was gamey and seasoned with pepper. It wasn’t bad, but Two Dogs missed the spices his people would add to turklyo. These Northmen apparently shunned heat in all its forms. It would probably be pretty funny to trick the Vikisotes into adding spirit pepper to their crick. On second thought, considering all the honey ferm being consumed this evening, it would likely lead to a rather large fight.
Two Dogs searched for Murid. She was amid a conversation with some of her warriors. She seemed to keep her wounded cheek covered. Two Dogs didn’t understand these people. Scars told the tales of strength and fighting spirit. The Vikisote men embraced them, but the women seemed to hate their scars. Perhaps Ancestors’ Hand had a potion or something that could let her avoid a raised scar. Then again, it may make Murid even more beautiful.
“Really?” Swift Shot said.
Two Dogs broke from his fantasy when she thrust a mug of that sickeningly sweet honey ferm into his hands.
“No, thank you,” Two Dogs said. “Come back when you have some legitimate corn ferm.”
“I’m actually working on some, but it’ll take another day or two before it’s ready. Until then, drink up. It looks like you need some liquid courage to ask the queen to show you the ceiling above her bed.”
Swift Shot laughed a drunken crow, then sipped until her mug was empty. She looked at Two Dogs’ hands. Without a word, she replaced his full cup with her empty one.
“No reason to let it go to waste,” Swift Shot said.
“How can you stand that stuff?” Two Dogs asked.
Swift Shot burped in his face. “It reminds me of being a kid. I get a surge of energy and my teeth buzz.”
“Why don’t you tell that to some of your new friends?” Two Dogs pointed at some nearby shield maidens. “They may want to inspect your teeth.”
“That’s not a bad idea. But first, I need to make sure I get the details of your date with the queen. Did you show her how your spear thrusts?”
“No.”
“Why not? Bird Song is dead. There’s no reason to pretend anymore like that was going further than your fur-lined blankets.”
Two Dogs swatted at Swift Shot. She almost slid off the bench as she dodged his hand. She scowled at him, more from having spilled some of her precious honey ferm than anything else. He didn’t even know why he swung at her. She wasn’t wrong. Bird Song was a good friend. She was also great under the blanket, but she was never wife material. No matter how much he wanted to believe she was, she was just someone to occupy his time while he looked for the right woman.
“I’m sorry,” Two Dogs said.
“It’s alright, but you owe me a new cup. Are you still thinking about Bird Song? Was it more serious than I thought?”
Two Dogs looked away as he shook his head. His eyes focused once more on Murid. Now she was speaking with Faida. Despite how insulting she was to Mother Turklyo’s children, she was clearly an important confidante to Murid.
“Listen to me,” Swift Shot said as she flicked Two Dogs’ ear.
“Ow!”
“Ow? You helped slay some Corlain scouts after hunting a crick, but an ear flick requires an ow?” Swift Shot looked at Murid too. “You better hurry up and show her who you are, or I may beat you to it.”
Two Dogs turned to Swift Shot and grabbed her cheeks with both hands.
“What are you doing?”
“But, Swift Shot, beautiful Swift Shot, can’t you see it’s you?”
Swift Shot looked at another empty cup of honey ferm. “How much of this stuff have I had?”
“We’re the last of the Lacreechee. We must wed to save our tribe. I’ll bed you every night and twice on Mother Turklyo’s day.”
Swift Shot burst into laughter. Her face went red as tears stained her cheeks. Two Dogs laughed with her as Swift Shot shook his hands from her face.
“You almost had me, but I’ve heard your tent. There’s no way you can perform that much.”
“I have feelings, you know?”
Swift Shot wiped tears from her eyes, but her smile remained. “You better share them with Queen Murid. I’m serious. I’ll take your chance away.”
“You would too, wouldn’t you?”
“Would what?” Egill asked.
He forced his body between the two Lacreechee. He was drunk like the other Vikisotes but not as far gone as most. Swift Shot greedily accepted the mug offered by Egill.
“This doesn’t replace the cup you owe me,” she stated.
“I’ve heard Queen Murid regale us with her version of her crick hunt. Do you mind sharing your official version?” Egill asked.
“It doesn’t differ much,” Two Dogs said.
Egill smirked. “I like you. Yo
u did a good thing for the queen today.” Egill slapped his thighs. “If you won’t tell me about today, then how about exciting me with something else from your past?”
“What’s to tell? I practice protector magic and serve Mother Turklyo. I’ve killed Corlains by the dozens, turklyos in pairs.”
“What’s a turklyo hunt like?” Egill asked.
“Unexciting from my perspective. Swift Shot has a tale she could share,” Two Dogs said.
“Oh no you don’t,” Swift Shot said. “He asked about you. Tell him about that second eagle feather you earned.”
Two Dogs reached up and stroked the three eagle feathers in his hair.
“I got the first at birth, like every other Lacreechee baby. The last one was the exciting one. I lucked into one after this woman killed a bull turklyo,” Two Dogs said.
“Tell him about the middle one,” Swift Shot said.
She burped after speaking. Two Dogs watched amused as she stifled a second burp and swallowed.
“Tell him about the third one first,” Two Dogs said.
“I want to hear both,” Egill said. “I don’t give a damn about the order.”
Swift Shot sighed. “Fine, I’ll tell him.”
“Thank you,” Two Dogs said.
“About the second one,” Swift Shot said with a wink.
Two Dogs rolled his eyes and slouched.
“I’m all ears,” Egill said.
Swift Shot dramatically cleared her throat. “First, you need to know that Two Dogs is literally the only person I’ve ever heard of to earn an eagle’s feather before puberty.”
“Is earning a feather important?” Egill asked.
“Of course! Chiefs are selected by those with the most feathers. Each feather symbolizes an important feat that benefited the entire tribe. Whoever has the most is the person who can best take care of us. If someone earns more than the chief, then leadership is passed.”
Augury Answered Page 16
