by Dave Duncan
“You’re absolutely right,” he said. “I don’t have to stay here and die. It’s Anton’s pissy castle. Let him defend it! So where shall we go?”
“We?” his brothers barked in perfect unison.
That seemed so funny that Wulf almost laughed, until he remembered that Marek’s corpse lay sprawled in the chair beside him. Oh, Marek, Marek! How were they going to explain this death to a priest?
“Everything you said about me applies to both of you. Cardice is none of our business. So where shall I take us?”
“Magnuses do not run away!” Vlad roared.
“No, we don’t,” Wulf said. Of course, when the castle was about to fall, he would rescue Madlenka and move her to somewhere safe. But then he would come back and stand with his brothers. It was the Magnus way. He raised his glass. The other two saw what was coming and raised theirs.
They proclaimed the toast together: “Omnia audere!”
Before the wine touched their lips, a fist banged on the door. Vlad hurtled across the room to open it, using his bulk to block the newcomer’s view of Marek. He also hid Wulf’s view of the newcomer, but Wulf recognized the voice of Dalibor Notivova.
“Campfires, Sir Vladislav! Down at High Meadows. The lookouts spotted a couple just after dark and now there’s at least a score of them. Seems an army’s moving in, pitching camp!”
“High Meadows?” Vlad said. “You mean south of us? Not the Wends, then?”
“No, sir. Pelrelmians, maybe. Can’t be king’s men, or they’d come to the gate.”
“Vranov!”
“Seems likely, sir. But a lot more men than he had there last weekend.”
Vlad boomed out a laugh. “Well, Dali my lad, that’s good news! Excellent news! I am exactly in the mood to head out and kill somebody! Let’s find me a warm cloak and you and I will go have a look.” He glanced over his shoulder. “You two clean up here.” He chivvied Dali out ahead of him and closed the door.
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Document creation date: 02.07.2012
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