by Dante King
There came another scream, longer this time, from the tent.
Were those three bearmancers even now experiencing the red lightning that had crackled across the inside of my closed eyelids, pulsing with each thrumming wave of purest trauma? Were they even now enjoying a pain that was turned up to eleven?
“It was pain undiluted by anything else, wasn’t it?” Elenari said as two more long wails joined the first. “It was a pain so intense that I could feel it crawling up my throat like - like a black slime, like something that was threatening to eat my brain away…”
The trio of screams were suddenly cut off in mid-crescendo. The audience shifted uneasily.
“Yeah,” I said, looking at the Queen’s implacable visage. “Yeah, it was a hell of a time, all right.”
The tent flap was pulled open suddenly, and Dasyr and Tanila emerged. The two Lorekeepers looked just as sanguine as they always did.
“Well?” Queen Frami said, and her voice croaked through lack of use. She cleared her throat and said again, “Well?”
Dasyr opened the tent flap, and the three warrior women came out. All looked slightly more haggard than they had when they went in and were coated with a thin film of sweat.
I had to say, even with the bags under their eyes, they looked pretty fetching in those skimpy bearskin togas and covered in sweat.
“It worked?” the Queen asked, running her eyes over the three women she had chosen to be part of this landmark bit of diplomacy.
Tanila looked at the Queen through her frosty blue eyes. She nodded curtly. “As far as we can tell, the Ceremony was a success, though in these rudimentary settings, we cannot know for certain. Only in combat will we know, but I would say that you now have three of the most powerful bearmancers who ever walked Vetruscan soil in your command, Queen Frami.”
The Queen’s weathered face split into a pleased grin. She stroked her chin, and her one eye twinkled with delight. Her mouth worked, in the manner of one who is trying to put her thoughts into adequate words. Then, she said to Tanila and Dasyr, “I thank you. They are only three words, yet they are all that I find myself able to say. If this has worked and you have helped to strengthen my Kingdom and protect it from those who would seek to mire it in the past, then I must think carefully how to repay you two.”
Dasyr raised a hand.
“We acted as our Empress commanded, Your Majesty,” she said in her sanguine tone. “We acted as your bargain permitted us to. It was our duty, and we did it gladly.”
The Queen grinned wider, and she took a deep breath of the air. There was a definite wet tang to it now, as if the rain had held off out of politeness but was seriously considering throwing one hell of a tantrum if it was asked to delay any longer.
“We return to the hall!” Queen Frami roared, her voice seeming to bounce and reverberate off the jagged hills that ringed us in. “Before the clouds shed their loads and all of us are washed into the fjord. I declare this a day of rejoicing! A day of diplomacy! A day of hope!”
The crowd, led by the Queen of Vetrusca, returned to the hall. As we went, I heard Queen Frami say to Dasyr and Tanila, “Lorekeepers, it would be my honor to have each of you on either side of me at the table, please.”
Stepping back into Berserker Hall had a soothing effect on me, like settling down in a cozy pub might have done on a wild and stormy day.
The first part of our task had been completed and without too much incident. Well, at least not much incident if you were not one of the unfortunate rebels who had tried to waylay us.
I was feeling content, ready to kick back with a drink and listen to some tales or the rain falling outside.
When my eyes adjusted to the gloom of the hall though, they came to rest on a figure already sitting near the head of the table.
Clad in a simple gown of white wool, trimmed with silver fur and girt with sword belt, the woman tugged at my memory. It did not take me long to place her. With her neat features, squarish jaw, and shaved head, she had her own unique look, her own unique beauty.
Her eyes were large, and the deep, dark color of a good pinot noir. She still wore a series of silver rings around the edges of both her ears, as well as a stud through each nostril, but she looked less wild now, in this setting. Still savage in a way, but also ladylike.
“Hana!” I breathed.
Chapter 10
Hana looked up at the sound of her name. She had been idly fiddling with the sangria-colored crystal, carved into the shape of a miniature bear claw, hanging from a twine bracelet around her wrist.
When her eyes alighted on me, she opened her mouth and made a movement as if to get to her feet. She looked part ready to fight, part ready to start yelling, part ready to run. I couldn’t say that I blamed her. Last time that we crossed paths, I had taken her down with one of those handy stunning harpoons as she tried to flee from me in the Subterranean Realms.
She had looked good then, had caught my eye in no uncertain terms, but here she looked very much like she belonged. She was a Viking shieldmaiden in a Viking Hall, surrounded by swords and fire and shadows.
I gave my head a little shake and started toward her as I tried to get my thoughts moving a little quicker than your average herd of turtles.
Goddamn, but she looked hot as hell though.
She watched me out of those deep red eyes of hers. Watched me all the way. After what felt like ages, I was finally standing next to her. I motioned at the bench beside her, covered in comfortable sheep skins and wolf pelts.
“Do you mind if I sit?” I asked.
The silver in Hana’s nose and ears glimmered in the firelight as she shook her head.
I sat.
“It’s nice to see you again, Hana,” I said as I grabbed a horn drinking cup from a stack in the middle of the table and reached for a jug of the delicious spiced mead. “I notice though that you don’t exactly look thrilled to see me.”
Hana watched me pour the drink in silence. One of her eyebrows rose slowly when I pushed the cup across to her and then filled another for myself. She regarded me thoughtfully as I sipped at the delectable beverage, while outside the hiss of rain on thatch started to grow louder.
The way that she seemed to weigh every word, every thought, drew me to her. In a world ruled by the strong and the rowdy, the brutal and the brave, Hana was a calm bay in a raging sea of strong-willed individuals. She reminded me, to some extent, of the Overseer. There could be no doubt that she kept her own council and played her cards close to her chest.
And a very shapely, well-proportioned chest it was, I couldn’t help but notice.
“Last time we met, you took me captive,” she said to me.
“I know it,” I said. “And don’t think that I don’t regret the way that it went down, but I was doing what my General ordered me to do. Like any soldier. I’m sure you can understand that.”
Hana considered my words. In my peripheral, I noticed that she had started playing with her bear claw crystal that dangled from her wrists again.
“You took my bear from me,” she said.
I nodded. Took another sip of mead. “Yes, I did. But you got it back. It was for both of our protection that I did it.”
Once more the Vetruscan bearmancer beauty considered my words.
“You are a hard man to fathom,” she said suddenly, in her lilting accent. “A hard man to dislike. I want to hate you—the part connected to my pride does at any rate. I find myself struggling with that desire, though.”
I sighed through my nose, took another sip of mead, and turned on my bench seat to look at her.
Boy, it was hard to concentrate when faced with something that looked like her. I thought that I might have gotten used to being surrounded by strong, gorgeous women by now, but apparently not. Hana was as unique as any of the other female companions that I had met and bonded with during my time in this world. With her shaved head, strong jaw, and multiple piercings, she should not have been able to exude the sort of r
aw, sensual femininity that she did, but…
I cleared my throat.
Concentrate, I told myself. You’re still representing the Mystocean Empire. Keep your head in the game and out of this femme fatale’s cleavage.
“You’re a fighter, born and bred, that much is plain to me,” Hana said, taking a swig of her own drink and licking the residue of her lips slowly. It was not an intentionally sexy action, but the unconscious way that Hana did it made it so.
“I normally have nothing for contempt for such people,” Hana said, her big, honest eyes fixed on mine over the rim of her cup. “You might think that is strange for one that comes from the Vetruscan Kingdom, a land famed for its warrior chiefs and climate that practically nurtures fighting men and women, but it’s true. I find nothing admirable about someone who is not happy unless they are covered in blood.”
She took another sip of her drink and reached for the mead jug. “But there is something different about you, Mike Noctis.”
There were more people pouring into the hall now, hurriedly taking shelter from the wind and the rain that was apparently picking up outside. I saw Renji, Elenari, and Tamsin chatting to a couple of the more extroverted Vetruscan women who had approached them. Saya was leaning against a carved pillar nearby, looking around at a couple of the tapestries that decorated Berserker Hall. A faint glow from under the long table told me that Will was under there annoying the dogs. Dasyr and Tanila were up at the head of the table, not far from where I sat with Hana, conversing intensely with Queen Frami.
“I’ve been fighting for most of my life in one way or another,” I blurted. “I fought when I was young to find my place at school. When I was older, I fought on the streets of my homeworld to keep my place. I’ve fought for good reasons and bad reasons and no reasons. Lately, before I came here, I fought for money.”
“You were a mercenary?” Hana asked me.
“No, it was for sport. I was paid to fight other men for the entertainment of others,” I explained. “And it was while I was fighting for money or, at least training to fight for money, that I learned not to take a fight personally. You can still fight and win and not loathe the man you’re fighting. You can respect him. I think that has colored the way I carry myself in this world, the way that I treat combat here. I always want to win, of course, to leave my enemy dead so that they can’t do the same to me, but that doesn’t mean I have to hate them while I slay them.”
Hana fingered the Etherstone that hung from her wrist and made a soft noise of agreement.
“It is a Vetruscan belief that, in that seminal moment just before you defeat them, it is impossible to hate your foe. It is impossible because, in defeating them, you must have come to understand them, and it is very, very hard to truly hate something that you have come to comprehend.”
“Especially when that thing is another warrior,” I mused, “because in understanding them, I guess, you’re probably seeing a part of yourself mirrored back at you. Or something like that.”
Hana nodded. “And that is why people who are not warriors should not be surprised when they hear that soldiers do not recall the faces of all those they have sent to their graves. It is because they don’t detest them.”
The beguilingly attractive and prepossessing warrior woman downed her drink and stared into my face. She looked like she was searching for something.
“Can I ask you something?” I questioned.
“Yes,” Hana replied.
“The last time that we spoke, I got the impression that didn’t agree with things we do in the Mystocean Empire, regarding the Transfusion Ceremony.”
Hana’s face remained impassive, but I caught a flicker of something behind her eyes.
“Why do you think I was waiting in here?” she asked.
“Right,” I said, “well—”
“I am still loyal to Queen Frami, Mike Noctis,” Hana said, those deep crimson eyes of hers taking on a little coolness. “I follow and support the Queen and I love Vetrusca and most of the people in it, but that does not mean I cannot have my own opinions about certain things. I still find your Transfusion Ceremony quite abominable, but it is not something for which I would give up my home. Not something worth defecting and turning my back on all the people that I care about.”
She had read me like a goddamn book there, and not one with big blocky paragraphs and tiny text either.
“I heard about your run-in with the renegades out in the Wilderlands,” Hana said pragmatically. “And I can imagine how it might appear, but just because I disagree with something that my Queen has chosen to do does not mean that I want to revolt against her. Besides one of those rebels is sister to… never mind.”
And she trailed off, taking a hard pull at her drink.
“Do you have cause to hate the rebels as much as Queen Frami obviously does?” I asked after a moment’s pause.
Hana shrugged wearily.
“Hate is one of the surefire ways to engrave someone’s face or name on your heart, Mike Noctis—you can be sure of that. You’ll never forget someone you truly despise, even after you kill them. That’s the flip side of the coin of revenge that no one tells you about.”
It sounded to me like there was more to this piece of philosophical insight than Hana was letting on, but this wasn’t the time to explore some potentially dark memory or anecdote.
As an alternative option, I said, “Uh, so the fact that you instantly recognized me when I walked in, should that be a cause for concern?”
To my delight, Hana smiled. The smile reached her large, clever eyes.
“I might be willing to give you another chance, Mike Noctis,” she said. “At least, I might be willing to entertain the notion.”
I gave the Vetruscan bearmancer a small smile in return and offered the mead jug to her. “I’ll take that. We have the rest of the night to iron out our differences.”
I poured two more measures of mead for us both and held my cup out.
“You have a toast?” Hana asked me, with a sparkle in her eye.
“Actually… no,” I admitted.
Hana snorted softly with laughter and held up her own cup. “Here’s to the world below this one. May our stay there be as enjoyable as our way there.”
She clinked her horn cup against mine.
And the doors of the hall, which had been almost fully closed against the weather, exploded inward in a gout of purple flame.
* * *
Mayhem.
Chaos.
Havoc.
Me, Hana, and all the other Vetruscans and Mystoceans in Berserker Hall suddenly found ourselves in the middle of a three-ring circus in less time than it took to say it.
The great doors of the Queen’s feasting hall had buckled under the magical blow that had burst them open. They lay twisted to either side of the now gaping opening. The sky beyond the entrance was stark and gray and full of rain. Lightning crawled across it, mirrored in the turbulent waters of the fjord. The few ships caught out there were quickly reefing in their sails and switching to oars.
The uproar in Berserker Hall was full-throated but directed at nothing—until the first rebel bearmancer, riding atop a bear with the horns of a stag, leaped through the breach and swept the head off one of the luckless guests.
Queen Frami jumped lithely onto the table and bellowed a hoarse challenge. It was a simple one, clear and to the point.
“Traitors! Traitors in the hall! Butcher them all!”
And, with that acrimonious cry, she started to run down the length of the table, sending platers and tankards and knives flying in her wake, her massive boots making the table quake and shake.
Hana and I jumped to our feet as one of the smoke holes in the ceiling at the very far end of the hall burst inward. There was a shower of splinters and blackened pieces of wood. A couple more rebel bearmancers, who had evidently scaled the hall and run across the roof, jumped inside.
Spells lit the gloom of Berserker Hall, flashes of pink, g
reen, and orange light. People were screaming, crying in agony, yelling with rage and bloodlust. I lost sight of my Mystocean comrades a second after seeing them and making sure that they were ready for the fray.
I couldn’t really tell how many bearmancers there were—how many enemy bearmancers there were, I mean. It was almost impossible to distinguish between the good guys and the bad guys—or the good girls and the bad girls, since they were all women of various shapes, sizes, and races. Bearing this in mind, I elected to keep an eye on Hana and the Queen and see who they were fighting. Of course, it would have been a lot easier if one of those rude party-poopers had just taken a swing at me. At least then I’d know—
A glowing purple axe blade, spitting sparks that smelled like burning blood, swept in toward my head.
I ducked backward, contorting myself like a limbo dancer so that the magical blade whistled over me. Something flashed out of the corner of my eye, and I booted the bench that Hana and I had been sharing backward. The heavy wooden bench scythed the legs out from the rebel bearmancer that had been creeping in behind me. She fell with a snarl of pain.
Hana summoned a saber out of the ether. The weapon thrummed with a crimson light. Hana swirled around, her white dress billowing out, and she brought the saber crunching down through the back of the knee of the fallen renegade. The woman screamed in pain, but only for as long as it took Hana to raise her saber again and split her foe’s head down the middle like a coconut.
The axe-wielding bearmancer might have missed me with her first swing, but she looked quite happy enough to keep chopping away at me all day, until she’d trimmed me down to the size she was after.
I ducked another blow, dodged another, and then backflipped out of the way of a cut that threatened to slice me off just below the knees. That brought me up against a sideboard at the edge of the hall. As the next axe blow came down to meet me, I stepped aside, reached behind me for anything I could get my hands on, and swung a sixteen-pound roasted game bird into my adversary’s face.
