by M. D. Grimm
Gust chuckled.
They stepped inside the modest building, and Gust smiled when he noticed Della up and about with her new daughter bundled in her arms. She was swarmed by several women as they cooed at the infant. Ansi had a large smile on his face, taking orders and delivering goods with a cheer that put Gust’s mind at ease. He’d wondered how they fared. Their other daughter and two sons were behind the counter, assisting their father.
Lance received wide-eyed looks from all of them but more from surprise and curiosity than fear. Gust didn’t doubt it was his own presence that put them at ease. Lance looked around with more wonder and when he spotted Della, he craned his neck, obviously curious about the baby.
As Ansi put together his order, Gust spoke aside to Lance. “Did you want to see the baby?”
Lance flushed and lowered his gaze. He shook his head though his gaze kept flicking back. Gust didn’t push despite his curiosity, unwilling to make Lance any more uncomfortable.
They stepped outside, away from the crowd, and Gust waited until Lance bit into his soft, gooey pastry. His eyes widened comically before drifting shut. He groaned loud and long as he savored the bite, his cheeks flushing.
Gust grinned even though his cock tried to harden at the pleasurable sound.
“I take it that was your first pastry?”
Lance made a sound of affirmation before taking another bite, chewing slowly, eyes still shut. Gust let himself watch, unable to look away. He bit into his own treat, flavors dancing over his tongue, causing him to groan himself. They ate without speaking before heading to Ally’s forge.
Ally was taller and stronger than any man in the village. Her skin was as black as coal as were her eyes and braided hair pulled into a tail. She was unmarried, thick as a boulder, and with a laugh that could be heard miles away. She didn’t tolerate nonsense and had a smoky, rough voice that was sexy and intimidating at the same time.
She took one look at Lance and raised an eyebrow before saying in Taris, “You’re the warrior.”
“Yes.”
“Need a sword?”
Lance gazed longingly at the swords set on display. “I don’t have money or anything to trade.”
“I do,” Gust said.
Lance shook his head. “No. You will not pay for me.”
“I don’t mind—”
“I do.” His tone and the fire in his eyes ended that argument.
“Then you can look but don’t touch,” Ally said, eyeing them both.
Lance stepped forward before shouting distracted them. Gust swung around as five farmers ran into town from the direction of the fields. Lukman’s fields.
“Healer! We need a healer!”
Gust cursed. It had to be the farming equipment. If Lukman wasn’t so stingy with his considerable wealth….
“I have to leave,” he said to Lance.
Lance’s eyes had widened at the alarm in the farmers’ tone. “Can I help?”
“Thanks, but no. I have to get my bag and my aunt. Maybe you should go back to the healing hut? Sorry but—”
“I’ll keep an eye on him,” Ally said. “Get going, Gust.”
Gust met Lance’s gaze. Lance nodded and waved his hand.
“Go. Be a healer. I’m fine.”
Smiling, Gust gently squeezed his arm before running off, mind already set on what he would need.
Chapter Nine
Lance watched Gust go, disappointed and proud. He had no right to feel pride. He had no connection to Gust, except for maybe a tentative friendship. Yet he couldn’t help but feel pride at Gust’s dedication and skill. His was a true calling. Gust said he hadn’t been born a healer but Lance thought otherwise. He’d chosen it, sure, but he was also meant to do it.
Perhaps that was also Lance’s predicament. He didn’t choose to be a warrior, and yet it was what he was meant to be. He hadn’t slept last night. He’d lain in the too-soft bed, awake, listening to Brutus breathe outside his window, thinking on Gust’s words. They’d certainly lightened his heart and gave him hope for a future of his own making.
“Where you from, Lance?” Ally asked.
Lance blinked at her accented Taris and stepped under her roof when she gestured him closer.
“I don’t know.”
Ally raised an eyebrow. “You don’t know?”
He shook his head.
“Well, from the look of you, I’d guess Swenen. But I haven’t been much farther than Apys. That’s where the best trading is done. You see these beauts? They’re my personal creation, and I keep a tight lip about my formula.”
Lance nodded, admiring the swords and liking Ally more and more. She wasn’t afraid of him, and she was kind, and it wasn’t long before she was making crude jokes. Lance choked out a laugh a few times and helped her where he could.
“It’s probably not my place to say, but I haven’t seen Gust this happy in a while. Not since that whore’s son Dakar darkened his doorstep.”
Lance frowned and clenched his fists.
Ally noticed and snorted. “Aye, I heard you gave him a right thrashing. It’s about time. He’s a spoiled snot, and I dread the day he takes over his daddy’s fields. Granted, Lukman isn’t the nicest guy either, but he has a good mind and does good business. A little stingy at times but fair nonetheless. It was probably his field that had the accident that took Gust away. I wouldn’t expect your healer back before supper.”
Your healer. Lance liked the sound of that.
“Oh bloody dust,” she suddenly said.
Lance blinked at the unfamiliar curse.
“I forgot I needed to get money from the cartographer. He wanted a specially designed dagger with the etchings of a piece of map on the blade. I ask you, what sort of blade needs a map on it?”
Lance shook his head.
“The only map I could see as being useful would be a map to the target’s heart so you don’t miss.”
Lance choked out a laugh.
“Anyway, you wanna do me a favor?” She thrust a small pouch into his hands. The emblem stitched on it matched the one on her forge. “Go to the cartographer’s, ask for Ramsis, and tell him Ally sent you. He’ll know. I’d do it but I can’t leave this sword unfinished. They’re delicate. Don’t leave without my twenty docets, you hear?”
He nodded, mind whirling with her rapid speech and sudden orders. “Where is it?”
“Past the bakery, head east. Big sign with fancy calligraphy. Can’t miss it.”
He nodded again and headed off. He couldn’t ignore the looks and stayed alert for aggression. It wasn’t that he necessarily expected it but he wasn’t able to not notice every nuance of a person’s posture and expression. Ulfr had made every second of the days and nights over the last decade and a half a constant training session, urging constant vigilance, and punishing laziness. Lance remained tense and braced for any sort of attack.
He realized it was only with Gust that he found a modicum of relaxation.
He found the cartographer’s business and stepped inside. There were only two customers in the long room, filled with shelves of rolled parchment. The smell of ink and animal hide bombarded him, and he coughed slightly. It wasn’t unpleasant, merely stronger than he was used to.
“Can I help you?”
Lance turned. Thankfully the older man spoke Taris. He was short, stocky, and wrinkled with gray hair and bushy eyebrows. Out of the corner of his eye, Lance noted the whispering of the two other customers. He kept half his attention on them as he strode forward.
“I’m looking for Ramsis.” He held up the pouch. “Ally sent me. She said you owe her—”
“Twenty docets, I know.” The man rolled his eyes and snatched the pouch. “That woman is a menace. Stay here, I’ll be back.”
When he left, Lance noticed a large, intricate map behind the counter. He leaned forward. It was of the Nifdem Empire. He squinted. Swenen was far north, in the high, unforgiving mountains. Ulfr used to try and scare him with tales of mischiev
ous alfar and man-eating jotnar. Then there was the horde that made everyone shudder. To the west was Grekenus, made up of islands of all sizes with one large landmass closest to the mainland. Ulfr had several small islands he used as hideouts. Despite being a bulky man, he was an accomplished sailor and had taught Lance to swim by tossing him in the water and yelling at him to move his arms and legs. Through his sheer will to survive, Lance had learned to swim. He didn’t really like it but he could do it. Brutus enjoyed the water a lot more.
He clenched his fists. Everything looked so much smaller on the map. The Hill of Tarran sat at the base of a large mountain range that split Swenen and Cairon. It also sat near the cliffs that looked out over Grekenus. The true center of the empire.
Where was Ulfr now? How long before his shadow touched this town? How long could Lance put off the inevitable?
“You like that map?”
Turning his attention back to the cartographer, he nodded.
“Aye, she’s beautiful and worth every docet I paid for her. She was made in the Hill of Tarran by the great cartographer Thralden. Look at the detail, the color. Vivid and perfect. As if we were one of the gods looking down on our creation.”
“Yes,” Lance said softly.
“Here.” Ramsis thrust the jingling pouch into Lance’s hands. It was certainly heavier, and a peek inside showed the silver docets.
“Now away with you. Only come back if you’re fixing to buy something.” Despite his severe tone, he smiled slightly and winked.
Lance bowed his head before turning to leave. Only when the door shut behind him did the two customers step up to the counter. Lance sighed. He was used to everyone fearing him, though that didn’t make it less exhausting. Without the armor he didn’t feel like Scourge. Since that baby’s laugh, he hadn’t felt like Scourge. So who was he?
He found himself in the town square as he worked his way back to Ally. Life bustled around him. Traveling merchants had their wagons and stands set with items and wares for sale. The energetic banter and haggling distracted him as he slowed his steps. He noticed all the snakes and vivid greens and remembered that Gust had mentioned something about a snake festival. He’d never attended a festival before. Ulfr had certainly disrupted his fair share, though.
Then a puppet show caught his attention. The merchant kept out of sight as he moved the detailed hand puppets across a fake stage as young children stared on in wonder. A few parents hovered nearby, most appearing amused.
Lance didn’t step too close but he was intrigued despite himself. He’d clearly entered into the climax of the action and didn’t have any context. Thankfully the merchant spoke in Taris. He was decent with the voices.
“You ssshhhall never defeat me!” the black puppet on the left said. Lance guessed it was a large snake with multiple heads that flopped around. It didn’t have any limbs. It only had bloodred eyes and wicked spines down its back.
“I am the son of Net! I will run you through, spawn of Snet!” the warrior puppet cried out triumphantly and brandished his little sword.
They fought in a silly way. The children ate it up, many squealing or bouncing in their seats, chanting a name Lance thought might be Ausar. The same name that Gust had mentioned.
The snake made great drama about dying and then the puppet vanished. The man puppet stayed and turned to the audience.
“The great snake Appep is dead! Defeated by my sword. Praise the gods and my mother, the Great Unitor Net!”
The kids jumped up and clapped, many screaming “Yay!”
The merchant popped up from behind the stage, an older man with wrinkles and white in his hair, standing out against his dark skin. He smiled and bowed before taking off the puppets. The parents all came forward to toss a few coins in the frilly hat he held out upside down. He inclined his head to everyone in thanks. If only it was that simple to defeat a foe.
Lance sighed softly and turned away. He’d only taken a few steps before awareness to danger lifted the small hairs on his neck. He was being followed. He moved away from the crowded market and waited for them to make their moves. He didn’t have to wait long
Five young men stepped in his way. He froze and made quick assessments of their skills. They could handle themselves, and yet even with five of them and him still healing, there wouldn’t be much of a fight. Then Gust’s words came back to him, urging him to stay away from fights. What was he to do?
“No stranger gets to come into our town and rough up our friend,” one of them said, the taller one with the most flamboyant clothing. The colors were vivid and the stitching fine and ornate.
“I was defending your healer,” Lance said, confused and angry about their loyalties.
“If Dakar wants to be a little rough with his lover, who are you to stop it?”
Two of the five, both in the back, exchanged looks that clearly illustrated they didn’t want to be there.
“Gust isn’t Dakar’s lover,” Lance stated firmly, stomach knotting at the thought. “Gust wants nothing to do with Dakar.”
“That’s not for you to decide.” The man swung out.
Lance dodged.
The man stumbled and nearly fell on his face. Lance backed up as two of the others came at him. He dodged their blows and blocked others. They telegraphed their moves, and he easily deflected before tossing out a few punches that merely weakened them. He held back and wasn’t as brutal as he’d been with Dakar. He was playing defense not offense.
Damn, the similarities to his life in Ulfr’s camp were painfully evident. Every day he’d expected an attack, had waited for it, sometimes patiently, sometimes wearily. Ulfr had said it kept him sharp, especially in his youth.
“Get in there, you cowards!”
The two reluctant youths continued to hesitate even as the leader stepped up to take his shot again.
“Enough!”
Everyone jumped. Sheriff Kafele with four deputies stalked forward and shoved everyone apart. His glare could have melted iron.
“You bring shame to your families by your childish behavior. Don’t think I won’t let each of them know of your antics this day. Get gone or you’ll be cooling your heels in my jail!”
They scattered like rats.
Sheriff Kafele eyed Lance, jaw clenched. “I saw you holding back. You could have smeared them across the ground.”
Lance wasn’t even breathing hard. He shrugged. “Gust told me not to.”
The sheriff raised an eyebrow as his deputies exchanged looks. “I told you not to.”
“Yes, you did.”
The sheriff snorted. “Keep out of sight as much as you can. You got a target on your back now.”
If only you knew.
“Thank you, sheriff.” Truly grateful for the reprieve, Lance inclined his head before leaving. He arrived at Ally’s a moment later and handed her the pouch.
“You’re right handy, Lance. Thank you.”
Gratitude. It still felt nice, even if it wasn’t from Gust. Despite the similarities at times with Ulfr’s warband, the town of Thebys was certainly not the same. “You’re welcome.”
Chapter Ten
“I am most grateful to you for coming personally,” King Kleitos said. Well, one of two kings fighting for the throne of Grekenus. “I know it is an imposition at best and dangerous at worst. I do not wish to put your life at risk.”
Lord Viljar Egillson, Earl of Jorvikr in Swenen, settled in a chair by a roaring fire and made sure nothing showed on his face. Instead of meeting at one of the main forts that held King Kleitos’s army, they met at his manor, at the northernmost tip of mainland Grekenus. It was one of the most defensible areas that wasn’t one of the many small islands. The manor still offered comfort and warmth, having been spared the ravages of the war.
Viljar knew the king spent most of his time with his soldiers at the different forts. Viljar approved. It kept the soldiers loyal since they assumed their king cared for them. Whether Kleitos did or not was of little matter.
“Here is your tea,” Kleitos’s wife, Anak, said. She set down the tray that held the tea, cups, sugar cups, napkins, and small cookies.
She was from Cairon, with all the dark beauty that kingdom had to offer. She was elegant, amiable, and quiet. Viljar knew such women had their uses although he much preferred his aggressive wife with her biting wit and scorn. The perfect partner to his enterprise.
“Thank you, my dear.” Kleitos gently touched her arm.
She curtsied to both of them before leaving and shutting the door behind her. Kleitos took the other chair in front of the fire and poured tea for both of them. Viljar appreciated that Kleitos remembered how he took his tea. He decidedly hated to deal with imbeciles and those who couldn’t retain the memory of simple niceties.
Viljar nodded his head in thanks and sipped the tea. Kleitos also sipped and appeared quite agitated and impatient to conduct their business. Understandable. Viljar enjoyed watching such aggravation when he held all the cards.
Once he’d drunk half his cup, he finally set it aside. Kleitos had suffered enough.
“Tomorrow will bring more resources for your soldiers,” he said. “I rode ahead of my guards, and that is why you find me quite alone this evening. I bring not only weapons but armor and food. Grain, as well as bread, butter, and some fruit that could travel long distances without going bad. Little things.”
“Nothing is little right now,” Kleitos said. “I can never repay you enough for your kindness these past years. It won’t be forgotten. I promise, that when I am finally crowned as the true king of Grekenus, your generosity will be repaid tenfold.”
Viljar smiled serenely even though he wanted to smirk. “I never doubted it.”
Kleitos sat back in his chair and gazed at the fire a moment. “There are times that I can’t help but wonder if I should not simply concede to my cousin. He is not a bad fellow. His greatest flaw is his temper. I hate seeing so many of my citizens dying. Good men in their prime. This war has created far too many widows and orphans.”
Striking a sympathetic tone, Viljar said, “And that is exactly why you must push forward. If you should concede now, then their deaths and their suffering will have been in vain. All the sacrifices they have made and you have made, would have been for naught. Don’t lose strength now. Grekenus needs you to lead. Harden your mind and your heart. That is the only way to win. I apologize for my harsh words but that is how I view it.”