“I would like to have met him,” he said.
Herfod sobbed. The sound was choked off quickly.
Ugoth gently set her back on the cot. “You’re going to leave tonight, Nicky. I don’t want you back here.”
“Yes, Ugoth. I’ll go.”
“Herfod, help me with my armour.”
After a second, Herfod’s hands moved to unfasten armour buckles. Ugoth’s predatory eyes never left Nicky’s face.
***
From between two wagons, Prince Ufrid observed the vehicle his brother had entered. A light emanated from within, a cool blue in the darkness. Ufrid shifted until he was more in line with the canvas-covered end. Ugoth’s silhouette showed against the cloth. He seemed to be kneeling on the floor. A woman sat before him. She was a small thing, but the shape of her was mature and clearly naked. As Ufrid watched, his brother pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Ufrid’s eyes narrowed.
“So. Now he takes a witch as well,” he muttered resentfully.
Loud voices issued from over by the fire, where most of the coven sat murmuring to each other. Ufrid crouched lower.
Ugoth’s captain had approached the women. He demanded to know the king’s location. His men ranged out in a fan, observing suspiciously. The leader of the witches snapped at the captain to be quiet, but then moved closer and whispered in his ear. The man’s eyes rounded with understanding.
The captain and his men were invited to remain at the fire. The women made room for the soldiers, and they all sat. Their heads canted toward the wagons. Some smiled. No doubt they were able to see shadows reflecting on the canvas just as Ufrid could, but had the better view of an entire side. Ufrid edged further into the darkness and peered at the wagon with his brother in it.
Herfod was with them! The slighter man’s figure had lifted from the floor area. He helped Ugoth drag off his armour. No. His padding. The tunic came off next. Then the woman was back in Ugoth’s arms, straddled on his lap.
“So you like to be watched, Ugoth,” Ufrid hissed.
Herfod moved in the background and ruined the silhouette. Then he sat upon the cot. Ufrid’s eyes widened. The outline of a stiff cock played upon the canvas. Ufrid watched in amazement as Ugoth set the woman on the monk’s lap. He heard a low female groan and another when Ugoth thrust forward and took her almost violently from the front, pressing both the woman and the monk to the further wall. Then the light faded out.
“Oh!” Ufrid gasped. His cock was so hard, it ached. “Gods!”
What he hadn’t known about his brother! He’d thought the man a cold fish. Eshaia had thought him a cold fish. Ufrid slipped his hand beneath his armour and touched himself. He almost groaned in frustration. He wanted to see the rest of it.
Minutes passed wherein the coven and royal guard sat hushed and expectant, listening to muffled sounds from behind opaque cloth, and then a terrible flash of blue erupted within the wagon. The assembled soldiers and witches jumped up in alarm. The soldiers pulled swords, and Ufrid thudded to his knees. He stared at the image of his brother rocking back in a great agonised arc, a blue nimbus so bright around him the lines of energy could be seen through the canvas. The woman arched on the monk, one of his hands on a breast. And the fire, the fire over him was a living creature that writhed.
The extraordinary light flickered out. There followed a second of silence. Then, from within the darkness, three voices laughed from reaction. Ufrid pulled his hand out of his clothing and wiped stickiness on the grass.
A soldier stomped up to the wagon. It was Ugoth’s captain. Ufrid crept further into the shelter of shadows. “Majesty?” Freden called. “Talk to me!”
“Go away!” His Majesty snarled. “I’m busy!”
“Yes, Sire. Just checking.” Freden stomped back to the fire, grinning enormously.
“Oh, yes! Be proud of your master,” Ufrid hissed. “The pervert!” Oh! But gods, he picked the best whores to practice his perversions on: a monk with fire and a slut who wanted both ends filled. “That explains why the monk doesn’t act like a roach,” Ufrid murmured. “He takes it both ways.”
A small light filtered into existence inside the wagon. From the actions of the exposed silhouettes, they were dressing. Ufrid wondered what the hurry was. He would have had them a second time, perhaps a third.
The monk helped Ugoth with his armour. The woman dragged breeches onto her legs as she lay back on the cot. Then the silhouettes became a jumble of movement. The monk was the first out of the wagon. He hadn’t undressed for the act, just pulled his habit up and his trousers down.
Ufrid glowered at him from within the darkness. What was this monk? Why this strange costume beneath the habit? Why daggers strapped to his calves? Why the curved blade instead of a proper mace in honour of Saint Turamen, the Dragon Slayer?
Ufrid was well aware that Ugoth combat trained at the monastery. He had always thought this some foolish excuse to get away from the duties demanded by their father and later to avoid the queen. Ufrid had never been invited to join his brother for these training sessions, nor had he asked. He regretted it now. There had been something there all along, something to this monk in particular. Weapons trained he was, but not in any Winfellan style Ufrid had ever heard of. Weren’t those curved blades Amek?
The monk cast his attention toward the collection of men and women at the campfire. A small cheer rose to greet him. “Shut up!” he called. “It’s a secret!”
They laughed. He grinned, but also continued scanning the environs, quickly encompassing the area where the royal spy hid. Ufrid remained motionless next to the wheel he crouched against. Despite the smile, the monk’s eyes were sharp and suspicious. His gaze panned past Ufrid, but then darted back. He stared into the shadows alertly.
Ufrid squinted his eyes to mere slits. The monk glared at his position a few seconds, but turned away as Ugoth stepped out of the wagon. No one cheered, but all the soldiers smiled. A few of the witches did as well.
“What? No cheers for me?” Ufrid heard his brother mutter.
“You always get the cheers. It was my turn,” Herfod said.
“Runt! Monks are supposed to disdain admiration.”
“Yes, well, I’ll try and remember that while you stare at my ass tomorrow.”
“Shut up. No one can see your ass beneath the habit.”
“As you say, Majesty.”
The woman climbed out. Ufrid grimaced in disappointment. He couldn’t see her. She wore a cloak with a hood. She was very short. She must like to be filled to her lungs, taking tall men like his brother. Ufrid wanted her. He didn’t care what she looked like. He wanted to have the slut.
“Do you have what you need?” Ugoth asked. “Food? Coin?”
“I have what I need.” She had a soft, melodious voice. She sounded young, but not too young. She lifted a pack out of the back of the wagon. “I had it ready from the beginning.”
“Where’s the nearest entrance?” Ugoth said.
“Not far from here,” she replied.
“Go.”
She headed toward the outskirts of the army. The monk set after her, but Ugoth delayed. His guards had risen when he’d stepped out of the wagon. Now they approached. Ugoth pointed them back. “This time, do not follow. I will meet you here.”
“But Majesty!” Freden protested.
“I am more protected than you think, Freden. Stay here!”
Freden scowled.
Surprisingly, Ugoth only grinned over the man’s temerity. “Don’t follow, Freden, or I will sic my protection on you. You’ll regret it.” He disappeared in the darkness between campfires.
Ufrid dashed away from the wagon, silent and out of sight of his brother’s men. He stalked parallel to the course his brother took, keeping between tents, catching only glimpses of Ugoth’s striding figure. Shortly, the tents thinned out, and he won a clear view of his brother with the monk and hooded woman. Ufrid was more careful then. He pulled his own hood up. He had borrowed a cloak be
fore leaving to spy. He walked the camp as an anonymous soldier, moving as if knowing where he was going. No one hailed or saluted. Ugoth attracted all the attention, but the king ignored the calls of greeting and pressed the woman forward. Herfod flanked her, an oddly menacing figure despite the habit and lesser size.
Ufrid stared at Herfod. That monk didn’t walk like one. He walked like a man who knew how to use a weapon, with the grace only intense training produced. He walked like a killer. Once again, Ufrid kicked his mental ass for not intruding on Ugoth’s training within the monastery. He was certain he would have learned the truth about that curved weapon and those hidden knives had he done so.
Curved weapon? Ill-remembered facts surfaced to the forefront of Ufrid’s mind. He recalled the existence of a cult of death in Amek, a cult of killers who wore black outfits with black hoods. And now the knives strapped on Herfod’s calves and the Amek blade took on a sinister overtone. The events in the pavilion that morning, the high kick to the chest, it all became comprehensible. An assassin of the Pek had downed him.
Bloody castrated gods! What the hells was that doing as a Turamen monk? And how the hells had Marun gotten him beforehand?
“Ugoth and his secrets!” All these years going to the monastery for so-called advice, but Ugoth had been playing with this monk assassin and in more than one manner. He’d been taking lessons from Marun’s traitorous boy fuck and buggering the obscene whelp between training sessions.
“Jealous bastard!” Ufrid whispered. Possessive bastard. Ugoth had kept the monk to himself, and the monk had helped him—helped keep Eshaia in line, helped keep the king’s younger brother away from her. Helped Ugoth take a whore. Ufrid wondered how often they played that particular game together. It was starting to make sense that Marun wanted the little cocksucker back. He was a hot piece. He had obviously seduced Ugoth, using this so-called weapons training as a means to get at him.
The three had reached the boundary of the army. A guard hailed them. Ugoth called the soldier off and ordered him to watch for their return. Ufrid was forced to wait. He dared not approach the line until they were out of earshot of the guards. Once he was relatively certain he wouldn’t be overheard speaking to the night watch, he pulled his hood down and stepped forward.
“Highness,” one of them greeted.
“Hsst! Keep it down,” Ufrid said. “I’ll be with my brother. Don’t mention us.”
“Yes, Highness,” the soldier said. He had no idea what the royal family was up to, but strange happenings had been the rule of the day. The soldier thought this must be another of them.
Ufrid hastened into the dark without further challenge. His quarry had gone up a hill. He tried not to create noise, but he could barely see under the trees he passed beneath. He was forced to move slower. His crunching footsteps hampered his effort to creep up on them. Eventually his cloak caught on a branch, and he stopped to free himself. At last their voices wafted to him clearly.
“Are you sure it’s safe?” his brother asked.
“I’ve travelled these routes for hundreds of years, Ugoth. It’s fine. I’m safer in there than out here.”
Ufrid pulled his cloak free and took a cautious step sideways. One more step, and there they were, in a clearing within the trees. Ugoth was kissing her. He had lifted her until her feet dangled off the ground. He set her down gently. “I love you,” he said.
“And I you,” she answered. She turned toward the monk. Ufrid caught only the briefest glimpse of her face. It had been pretty under the light of the half moon.
“Kehfrey,” she whispered. Despite the softness, the name flew with clarity in the still night air.
The monk touched her chin with a finger. His thumb caressed her lips. “Take care, my love,” he said. His hand dropped away.
“You haven’t kissed me once all night,” she protested.
“Don’t make me. I won’t be able to let go. Then we’ll all be upset again.”
She sobbed. Without another word, she darted into nothing. Ufrid stared in astonishment. She was gone! She had vanished!
He was still gaping in amazement when a figure came at him from the side and wrestled him to the earth.
***
Ugoth stared at the air where Nicky had jumped. After a second’s hesitation, he walked a pace forward. He stepped on plain earth and remained perfectly solid. “I suppose it’s only good for elves,” he muttered.
He turned and discovered that Herfod had vanished. “Herfod?” Panic set in. Herfod had followed her! He’d abandoned him! “Herfod!”
A yelp in the darkness focused Ugoth’s scattered mind. Pulling his sword, he rushed toward the sound. He halted in surprise. “Ufrid?”
Herfod had his brother on the ground. Despite this surprise, the relief Ugoth felt at the sight of his lover almost melted his legs.
“Look what I caught while he was distracted,” Herfod sneered. “A peeper. Did you enjoy the show in the wagon, Ufrid?”
“Get off me!” Ufrid bellowed. He lay on his back and he lay very still. Herfod had a sharp dagger pointed straight at an eye.
“He was watching?” Ugoth shouted. “Son of a bitch! Kill him!”
“No! I’m sorry!” Ufrid bleated. “Don’t kill me!”
“I can’t just kill him for watching us mess about,” the monk said.
“Then get out of my way!” Ugoth snarled.
“Be quiet, Ugoth,” Herfod said, but continued to glare down at the prince. “Why were you watching, Ufrid?”
“I wanted to see what you were both doing,” Ufrid admitted. “I’ve been watching since you stayed in his pavilion last night.”
“Have you? Why?”
“Because you excite me!” he shouted. “Get off!”
“That’s it! I’m killing him.” Ugoth stalked forward, sword lifting. “Get off him, Herfod.”
“Well, that will make a good entry in the Ulmeniran histories,” Herfod said, staring evilly into Ufrid’s eyes and making no motion to rise. “This Year of Heaven’s Grace, Eight Hundred Ninety-three, King Ugoth the Second butchers his younger brother after learning Prince Ufrid watched him diddle a woman with another man. You’ll be well remembered, My Liege. King Ugoth, the Diddling Peeper Punisher.”
“Shit!” Ugoth bellowed. “Let him go, then! I’ll give him a running start!”
Herfod’s weight left Ufrid’s chest. Ufrid blinked. The dagger was gone.
“Run, Ufrid,” the monk warned him. Ufrid heaved up and ran. Behind him, Herfod tripped Ugoth and incapacitated him with his body.
“Get off!” the king shouted, shoving Herfod upward.
“Ugoth! He was only watching. I used to watch.”
Ugoth stilled. “You watched Nicky and me?”
“Yes. You want to kill me?”
“Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes,” came the answer. “I almost fell off a roof.”
Rather than killing him, Ugoth pulled him closer and kissed him. His grasp was desperate.
Herfod touched Ugoth’s cheek. Tears wetted the skin. Herfod knew, then, that in another few seconds there wouldn’t be any kisses, just broken sobs of grief and denial. The truth of his destiny had wormed further into the king’s soul, and Ugoth wished to die no more than any man.
Chapter Seven
Ufrid ran until he was out in the open, then looked back. There was no sign of pursuit. Resentment fired his guts where fear had just chilled them. He stomped back to the guard line.
“Prince Ufrid? Is all well?” the same guard who had greeted him earlier asked.
“All is well!” he snapped.
“I thought I heard shouting.”
“That was just Ugoth yelling at me,” he said tightly. “Nothing new.”
“Right, Highness.” The soldier saluted and settled back into his duty.
Ufrid continued onward. He wanted back in his tent. He wanted out of Ugoth’s way. He wanted to have that monk worse than ever.
“Gods!” he hissed. For the
second time, Brother Herfod had put him on the ground. Ufrid hadn’t seen him coming at all. Suddenly he had been flat on his back with a dagger at his eye. While the rest of his body had frozen in terror, his shaft had become a traitorous rock against Herfod’s crotch. The monk had known it and said nothing to Ugoth.
“Gods!” Ufrid hissed again. The truth had saved him for a change. There had been no pity in that monk’s eyes. None at all. There had only been a strange, intense interest in how he reacted to impending death. “Fucking black-hearted whore assassin!”
Ufrid stomped up to his tent not much later. “Get me a whore!” he snarled at his men.
They had been expecting the order and had one waiting. Ufrid pulled her in, bent her over his table and took her in the rear. He almost screamed when he came, but the cry choked off in his distended throat. He held his breath unto the last and almost passed out over her. It didn’t matter that he was silent. The whore whimpered enough for both of them.
***
The next morning, Ufrid rode away from his men and into the cover of trees. He lifted the mirror out of his saddlebag and gazed into the glass expectantly. Marun’s face appeared. The sorcerer was eager to hear Ufrid’s report. Ufrid discerned excitement in his eyes.
“Well?” Marun demanded.
“Your spell failed.”
“What?” Marun shouted. “That is not possible!”
“He was warded. The monk protected him. My brother thudded to his knees, clutched at his heart, and then blue erupted all over him.”
“Warded?” Marun said blankly. “By Kehfrey?”
“That’s the second time I heard that name,” Ufrid said.
The vacant stare fired to alertness. “Who else said it?”
“A woman. They were both using her last night. It was a sight to see. It made me come just watching their shadows.”
The Shadow Master whitened with rage. “I will give you another potion,” he said.
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