The King of the West

by Pedro Urvi

  “The rest of us will move on among the dead,” said Viggo.

  “There’ll be guards on watch on the wall,” Lasgol warned them. “Even if we don’t see them in the dark.”

  “The moment you see one, Nilsa,” Viggo said, “you know what to do.”

  She nodded and stayed there crouching, her bow at the ready.

  The others crawled stealthily on until they were passing between the corpses. Luckily, they had not yet begun to smell, although passing them was grim and ominous. Lasgol found himself wishing that the funerary fires would burn and carry all these men away, respectably and honorably, to the kingdom of their gods. It seemed an abomination that they should be left there, forgotten, without being granted the respect they deserved in their final journey. His wish would have to wait till the end of the siege.

  Suddenly Viggo stopped, and so did the others. He pointed to the top of the wall beside them. Lasgol used his Animal Presence skill and found that they were close enough to detect the watchmen. His skill detected two of them on the wall, though the others could not see them because they were crouching in the shadow of the ruined walls. Ingrid and Gerd readied their bows and went down on one knee to cover the positions Lasgol had indicated.

  Viggo beckoned, and they went on crawling to the foot of the wall. The assault ropes and ladders were still hanging along it. Viggo beckoned again and began climbing up one of the ropes, and Lasgol did the same on another. While they were climbing, enveloped in the shadows of night, Ingrid and Gerd covered them. Once on the battlements they prepared for the most complicated part of their plan, which was crawling along the parapet without being seen.

  Viggo went first, until he was lying on the floor immobile, like a shadow. As he was dressed in black, he passed unseen. Lasgol was not so lucky. The watchman saw him and stood up with his bow in his hand. However, as he stood up, he revealed himself as far as the waist, and when he was about to release, Ingrid’s arrow got him in the face. There was a small hollow explosion, and a cloud of dust and earth enveloped his head. It was an Earth arrow. Blinded and stunned, he tried to wipe his eyes. Lasgol got to his feet like lightning, raced to him and with a sharp blow with the back of his axe knocked him unconscious.

  The other watchman saw him and prepared to release, but Gerd’s arrow took him in the neck. It too was an Earth arrow, and before he could recover from his daze, Viggo had left him unconscious on the ground. They were safe.

  Come, Lasgol messaged Camu.

  I come. The creature approached the bottom of the wall and began to climb up with his four hands clinging to the stone, like a huge lizard. When he was almost at the top, another guard appeared on the wall a hundred paces away, too far for Viggo to reach him in time. Ingrid and Gerd had no proper angle to shoot from. They were about to be found out! An arrow flew in an arc and took the guard full in the chest. It was a Water arrow. An explosion of ice flew up his arms and face and he froze, unable either to release or to react. Nilsa gasped in relief. The shot had been a true one. Viggo, with amazing swiftness, reached the guard, who was struggling to recover the use of his arms, and left him unconscious with a blow which took no more than the blink of an eye.

  Ingrid and Gerd climbed the wall and took up the positions of the fallen watchmen.

  “Go on. We’ll wait for you here,” Ingrid whispered.

  Viggo looked at her. “If I don’t come back…”

  Ingrid was caught by his words. “If?”

  “Nothing. I’ll be back. You’re not getting rid of me so easily.”

  Ingrid swore under her breath. “Be careful, knucklehead!” she whispered.

  “A good luck kiss?” he begged, looking saintly.

  She turned red with fury. “Get going!”

  Viggo smiled from ear to ear, threw her a kiss and left.

  “If we don’t come back before dawn, leave,” Lasgol said to her. “Don’t risk it.”

  “All right. Good luck, and be very careful”

  “Thanks.” He followed Viggo, with Camu at his side.

  Seeking the shadows and the darkness that night projected on to the city, they moved through the market neighborhood. They had to stop several times, because soldiers were patrolling the city. Viggo also identified a couple of agents of the West moving stealthily through the streets just as they were, doing their best not to be seen or heard. He seemed to have a special instinct for detecting them, as he did it almost before Camu. They went on toward the north, and (not without some difficulty) managed to reach their goal. In the north-westernmost part of the city, where north and west walls joined, was a temple to the Ice Gods, and beside it a well.

  “It’s here,” Viggo whispered.

  “The temple?”

  “No, the well.”

  Lasgol looked at him blankly.

  “Follow me,” Viggo said with a smile, and winked.

  Confidently and gracefully, with complete ease, he let himself down inside the well. Lasgol, taken aback, put his head in and saw a rope tied to a huge nail a little further down, hidden from view. He let himself down after his friend, with Camu clinging to the inner wall of the well behind him. When they reached the bottom, Viggo beckoned him to follow along a tunnel. The water came up to their waists, and the tunnel was completely dark. Lasgol was hoping and wishing that Viggo knew what he was doing. He did not like the look of this.

  Without any source of light, Viggo navigated a series of tunnels which lost themselves in the darkness until Lasgol was totally disoriented. Camu moved along the ceiling of the tunnel, clinging to it upside-down. Lasgol wished he could do the same after some time spent wading through water and between rocks. The bottom was very irregular, and he had already tripped over several times. He was keeping one hand on the wall of the tunnel to guide himself and knew Viggo was ahead because he could hear him, even though he could not see him. His friend led him through the labyrinth of tunnels to another well.

  “Here we go up,” he whispered. “Very carefully.”

  “Okay.”

  They climbed up another rope. Viggo slid outside the well, and Lasgol followed until they were both lying on the floor, looking around them. They were in a courtyard. Viggo crawled as far as a portico, and Lasgol followed him, with Camu behind. He was about to ask where they were when he saw a long tower rising to the skies. Beside it was a huge stone building.

  “We’re inside the castle!” he whispered in alarm.

  “Of course. This is where we’re supposed to be.”

  “This isn’t just dangerous, it’s absolute madness! We’re going to get caught and hanged!”

  “Don’t worry and just follow me,” Viggo said with complete calm, as though this were the easiest thing in the world.

  Lasgol had no time to reply, because Viggo was already on the move, keeping closely to the wall and avoiding the first guards they encountered. Lasgol was growing more and more nervous. They were sneaking into the Olafstone castle, which was full of Western soldiers. Viggo went into what looked like a warehouse next to one of the towers.

  “We’ll change here,” he said. From inside a barrel he took out some clothes and began to undress.

  “You haven’t told me what’s going on.”

  “If I do, you’ll only get nervous. I need you to be calm and to stay calm. You’ll soon understand.”

  “You told me the West was going to perish and that all the Olafstone were going to die. That’s why I’m here.”

  “I said so, and I’m sticking to it.”

  “But what’s going to happen if they have the Zangrians backing them? What is it that you aren’t telling me?”

  “A lot. But you’ll understand when the moment comes. Let’s go. There’s no time for any more explanations.” Viggo was leaving the warehouse as he spoke, and Lasgol followed him. Camu followed them, staying invisible just in case.

  Viggo indicated the uniforms they were wearing. “We’re officers from the West. Behave accordingly.”

  “Yeah, I can see tha
t,” said Lasgol, who had just noticed what they had on. Now they were sure to be executed if they were caught. Passing themselves off as officers of the West was the direct route to hanging from a tree.

  Viggo went straight to the castle as if it were the most natural thing in the world. He ignored the guards and the soldiers who were crowded into yards and barracks, trying to sleep. There were too many people inside, more than the castle could accommodate. Lasgol could not believe his daring and absolute self-confidence. He strolled through it all as though he were the captain of Duke Olafstone’s guard.

  Inside the castle they went on along torch-lit corridors, then up a flight of dark stone stairs. The soldiers on guard made no attempt to stop them. Lasgol realized why; Viggo was wearing the clothes of a commander, and he himself those of a Captain. Unless they met other officers, they would have no problems. Finally, they came to a hall on the third level of the castle, with large portraits of the Olafstone on the walls.

  Lasgol saw that Viggo was looking at two of the life-sized portraits. “What are we doing here?” he asked.

  “Just a moment…” Viggo took out a note and began to study it.

  “What are you doing? They’re going to catch us!”

  Viggo ignored him and went on studying the note.

  Soldiers, Camu warned Lasgol from the corridor.

  Lasgol reached for his weapons, a long knife and a Norghanian sword. Their backs were to the door, so they would not be recognized.

  “Officers,” a voice called.

  Viggo and Lasgol did not turn round.

  “Officers, what are you doing here?” The voice came closer.

  Viggo turned like lightning and found himself confronted with two captains. When they did not recognize him, they were puzzled.

  “Who…?” the first one began.

  Lasgol turned round. The other officer looked at him and did not recognize him either.

  “You’re not –”

  Two fists flew at the same moment as Viggo and Lasgol hit out at the two officers. Before they could react, the two Rangers had left them lying on the floor, unconscious.

  “To the closet,” Viggo said, indicating a huge closet at the end of the hall.

  They dragged the two officers there, then bound and gagged them with their own clothing.

  “We’re going to be found out!”

  “We’re almost there,” Viggo said, as nonchalantly as if nothing had happened.

  “Viggo!”

  His friend was not listening, but instead was counting something on the right of one of the dignified, haughty Olafstone portraits. Suddenly there was a click, and the portrait pivoted to reveal a passage.

  “There it is!” Viggo said triumphantly.

  There was nothing Lasgol could say. Viggo went in, and he followed with Camu.

  Fun. A lot, came Camu’s message.

  Just what I needed. This isn’t fun at all. We’re going to be killed!

  Yes. Fun.

  The portrait returned to its original position behind them, covering the entrance to the passage.

  “How did you know this was here?”

  “Shhh,” Viggo hissed. “Follow me down this passage.”

  He went on, and finally stopped in front of a wall with light filtering through it. No, not a wall. It was a mirror.

  “It’s one-way,” he explained. “Look, they can’t see us.”

  Lasgol found himself looking into a huge hall. In it were Arnold, Dukes Svensen and Erikson, Counts Malason, Bjorn, Axel and Harald, together with a gaunt man who looked like an Ice Mage, judging by his clothes and snow-white hair. The presence of the Mage surprised Lasgol, but even more the presence of a foreign officer with his guard. By his yellow-and-black clothing, Lasgol guessed that it must be the Zangrian general in command of the army which had just arrived.

  “Do we have a deal, General Zorberg?” Arnold asked the Zangrian general.

  “I want Duke Orten’s head, and that’s not negotiable. Whatever may happen to Thoran is none of our business. We’ll let the King of the West decide his destiny, although Zangria would be happy to see his death.”

  “I can’t guarantee Orten’s head. It’s possible that I might have to negotiate a surrender on the part of the East. Thoran will want to save his brother. He won’t surrender unless I guarantee his life.”

  “Orten ordered the death of General Ganzor. I’m here to take his head back to our monarch King Caron. This insult to our honor must be paid with blood. Without Orten’s head there will be no Zangrian support for your cause, King of the West.”

  Arnold sighed and was thoughtful for a moment. “There must be another agreement that King Caron would be ready to sign in this situation,” he said at last.

  Zorberg shook his head. “Orten’s life for our support. That’s the deal. It’s the only one our King has allowed me to negotiate.”

  Arnold turned to confer with his nobles. While he was talking, the General poured himself a glass of Nocean wine.

  Arnold turned back to Zorberg. “King Caron will have Orten’s head,” he promised.

  Zorberg smiled. “That’s a wise choice. We’ll give those treacherous, dishonorable rats Thoran and Orten what they deserve.”

  “So be it,” Arnold said, with a respectful nod.

  Zorberg offered his hand. “Do I have the word of honor of the King of the West?”

  “You have it, General Zorberg,” Arnold said, and shook the General’s hand firmly.

  A moment later the general left with his guard. Arnold thanked his nobles and ordered them to get ready for the battle. They departed, and Arnold was left alone. He poured himself some wine and sighed.

  Suddenly a new passage opened up behind a painting on the wall in front of the double mirror, and a figure appeared.

  “What do you think?” Arnold asked the figure.

  “That you had no alternative, brother.”

  Lasgol’s jaw dropped. It was Egil!

  Chapter 44

  Lasgol was looking through the one-way mirror, unable to believe what he was seeing. Egil was there!

  “It’s a good alliance,” Egil pointed out.

  “I don’t feel entirely at home with the Zangrians,” Arnold told him.

  “Nor do any Norghanians, but given the situation…”

  Arnold nodded. “We had no other choice.”

  “Without the Zangrians, we won’t be able to defeat Thoran and his armies. We can resist, but ultimately they’d end up winning.”

  “Even with all the traps you’d prepare for them?” Arnold asked with a smile.

  “Even so. My traps are there to wear them down, but they can’t give us the final victory.”

  “Your traps, your strategies and your incredible intellect are what’s still giving us a chance of winning.”

  “Thanks, brother.”

  “Thank you, Egil. You’ve always been the smartest of all of us. Even Father acknowledged it.”

  “Did he?”

  “Not in front of you, obviously – you know what he was like – but yes, he did.”

  “That’s good to know.”

  “We’ll soon avenge him, him and Austin too.”

  “I’m not looking for revenge. I’m looking for justice. You ought to be King of Norghana by blood, by lineage, and I’m going to help you to attain that. Then we’ll bring those who killed him to justice,”

  “You have a noble heart. Nobler than mine.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “Perhaps you ought to be the King, not me.”

  “No. You’re a leader, and I’m a thinker. The crown must be worn by a leader. I’ll help you reign.”

  Arnold offered his hand to him. “Deal.”

  Egil grasped it with pleasure, and Arnold gave him a hearty hug. “Thank you for everything, brother, from the bottom of my heart.”

  “We’re Olafstone. The Olafstone help each other to the grave.”

  Arnold laughed. “Thank you, truly.”

  �
�There’s nothing to be thankful for,” Egil said humbly. “You’re my brother, and I’ll always help you.”

  Lasgol glanced aside at Viggo. “That’s why we’re here. For him. You want to protect Egil.”

  Viggo nodded. “He’s my friend. I’ll defend him to the death.”

  “Are they going to try to kill him?”

  “They’re going to try to kill every Olafstone.”

  “Is that your mission?”

  Viggo nodded. “That’s my mission.”

  “Well then, don’t do it, and that’s that.”

  Viggo smiled. “Life isn’t normally that easy. Do you think Thoran and Orten have only assigned this mission to a novice Assassin like me? It’s true that I’m special, but the King and his brother don’t know that yet.”

  “They’ve sent a veteran assassin…”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of. I don’t know for sure, but I have that feeling. It doesn’t make sense for them just to send me.”

  “You’re absolutely right.”

  “I’m always right,” Viggo said with his ‘of course’ expression.

  Egil and Arnold were parting with a final embrace. “Tomorrow Norghana will have a new King,” Arnold said.

  “Tomorrow Norghana will have its legitimate King at last,” Egil replied.

  Arnold smiled and turned to leave. At that moment, the door opened and two officers came in.

  “Yes?” Arnold said.

  The two officers suddenly unsheathed knives. Before anybody else had time to react Viggo had leapt through the mirror, shattering it into a thousand pieces and rolling on the floor. The two officers looked at him in annoyance.

  “They’re assassins!” he shouted as he unsheathed the daggers he was carrying with him secretly.

  Arnold took a step back and unsheathed his sword.

  “Egil! Take cover!” Viggo shouted as he hurled himself into the attack. One of the assassins confronted him, while the other went straight for Arnold. Lasgol recovered from the surprise and nocked his bow.

  Protect Egil, he messaged to Camu.

  I protect, the creature transmitted back, and Lasgol felt him go past him, brushing against his leg as he did so.

  Viggo and the assassin began the lethal dance of knives, attacking and countering with blows and movements which were so fast that the eye could barely follow.