The Beast of the North

by Alaric Longward

  ‘You all right, Lord?’ asked a young man’s clear voice. ‘What is going on up there?’

  ‘Thievery! That … imp tried to murder me. He poisoned the crafters! Go and get help!’ I panted at him, hoping to be rid of him. I stared up at the open hatch; sure we would fall unconscious.

  We did not. It was silent as a grave up there.

  The Red Brother chuckled and shook his head. He approached Twitch and leaned to grab him by his collar. He heaved powerfully, and while I was far from a weak man, this one was hugely savage. Twitch flew up through the hole into the room. The man climbed some stairs to gaze in. ‘Who was trying to do this theft? That small one?’ he asked with an amused voice, his huge butcher’s sword dragging behind.

  ‘That thing, yea. Said he has help outside. I escaped … Can you breathe up there?’

  The helmet went up and down. ‘Yes, but it is an unfortunate sight. They are dead. Not breathing. Come up, then.’ Dead? I cautiously followed the man to the room. It was true. All the artisans looked dead as poisoned mice. But they were not, were they? They had fallen into a strange stupor and done that so fast some were still holding the dies, and all their eyes were wide open, the whites showing. The Red Brother was grunting in rage, fingering his massive sword. He was nodding to himself and staring around, and then he bent to ruffle the clothing on Twitch. He came up with a key. ‘You said this one claimed to have help outside? This key is for the outer door, and you got yours?’

  Shit, I thought. ‘Yes … but surely you must go and get more men? Guards? Your Brothers?’

  ‘The Brothers are guarding the king and the queen. The Mint is my duty today. I can handle this,’ he said, almost happily. ‘Help me with the other door. Use your key.’

  ‘My key?’ I said dubiously.

  The dark helmet turned to regard me. ‘I said I’ll go out and see if there are any more out there,’ he noted. ‘I’ll make sure they won’t try again. And I’ll take some for questioning.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘The key!’ he yelled, his eyes smoldering behind his helmet’s eyeholes.

  ‘Here,’ I said, gave him the key, cursed miserably under my breath, and hoped Molun and Kallir were ready.

  He shuffled with the lock on the latch, kicked it open, then pulled my key, and deftly opened the door. He stepped outside, his sword at the ready; the baleful mask and armor were making him look very dangerous indeed. His huge sword came to the side, held with one steel gauntleted hand.

  Molun and Kallir were there, wearing the guards’ uniforms. Their shock at seeing one of the Brothers was beyond comprehension.

  ‘And who are you, I wonder,’ the Red Brother said to himself, staring at the two thieves. ‘Surely not the men who brought you here?’ This was addressed to me.

  ‘They look like them,’ I said, inching out to the yard. There were people stopping on the Thin Way to stare at the unusual confrontation. ‘They wear armor and carry swords, and I don’t really pay attention to them. Ever.’

  Molun grunted and swiped his hand in a dismissive gesture. ‘We are his guards. He is a drunk damned fool.’

  ‘His guards?’ the Brother said with amusement. He murmured something. The gauntlet glinted. His sword hand glowed; I thought. Was it possible? Then the air moved gently. He rocked and tilted his head at Molun. ‘I think not. I know you lie.’

  ‘I tell you … ’ Molun said, and Kallir shook his head, silencing him. I cursed myself as I grabbed Larkgrin. I shuffled to the side of the knight and tried to make up my mind.

  Kallir made up his, spat, and drew his sword.

  The knight roared and charged forward, the huge sword flashing in the air. Molun rolled away. Kallir did not, but tried to parry the deadly weapon. The impact was such the rogue bit his tongue through, fell as if a god had kicked him, rolled into the dust, hit his back on a wall, and I saw his arm was obviously broken, bent unnaturally to the side. The huge sword swished up and then came down and so died Kallir, the surprisingly fast weapon splitting him in half. I stared at the sight incredulously, the bloody meat and a mess of armor that had been a man just moments before. The monster of a knight tore the weapon out, and Molun was backpedaling from him. ‘Surrender?’ the beast asked, amused. ‘Drop the steel. You have no hope.’

  I whispered, ‘Larkgrin.’ The weapon flared up and grew from my hand, twisting out and the mysterious symbols glowed. The bird on top of the staff looked fragile, but I thought of the tree mother had felled and wanted to push the bird into the Brother’s back. The onlookers stared at the spectacle in awe, but the masked Brother was herding Molun, unaware of the danger. He kicked Molun, and the thief flew to his rear, nearly unconscious. I prayed, cursed, and charged him.

  At that time, the knight looked to his fist. There was my key dangling from it. And it was not attached to the bone.

  I am not sure what saved me. Instinct, luck? Instead of striking the Brother with the deadly staff, I fell onto my belly on the dust and the huge two-hander swished over me. I rolled away in panic as the man stalked closer. His eyes were fixed on the staff. ‘What in Odin’s name! That—’ He concentrated, his hand glowed again. ‘Ring? And his staff! Finally!’

  ‘Is mine,’ I hissed. ‘Not Morag’s!’

  ‘Yours? A paltry Lord of the Coin?’ he laughed, and then his helmet nodded. ‘Thief? No. There is something else here. I cannot tell if you lie. Strange, strange! Surrender now. In fact, just pass out.’ He rushed forth, terribly fast for an armored man, grabbed me by the coat, and smashed his helmet into my face. I swooned and tried to hit him with the powerful staff, but he blocked me and got ready to crush my face again, but with the hilt of the sword.

  I changed my face to Valkai’s. It flowed like a wax and settled, and I leered at him, though I was terrified.

  He hesitated, confused. ‘What? Oh, Ymir’s ice-cold ass! I know—’

  And then Molun’s blade entered his knee, and he howled. The Red Brother lifted his sword and cursed, trying to turn, but Molun stabbed at him again, and his sword went through the shoulder armor and chinks in the chain. The Red Brother fell on Molun, and I fell with him. The warrior let go of me in the tangle of bloody armor, legs, and I fell to his chest on my knees. ‘Get up, you lout.’ Molun got up from under the large, armored body, hissed and kicked the Brother hard. The man didn’t make a sound, nor did he move. Molun pulled me up. ‘Stay here, growl at the bastards. Those. The ones looking on.’ He nodded at the crowd of onlookers. ‘Sand’s going to torch a house up the street, Maskan. Make Valkai seen here, and I’ll fetch what we need. Shit luck with Kallir, but we have to carry all of the gold. The Bear will be happy.’

  I turned to look at the dozen or so people in the crowd. My imitation of Valkai the Heavy was spot on, for I heard the name whispered in the crowds. ‘Stay back, or the Jesters will slit your faces. Stay away, and you will do fine!’ Then I waited for Molun.

  It took forever, the people were whispering, and I grew restless. Finally, Molun rushed out, carrying two heavy sacks of gold flans and dropped one in front of me. He grinned at me, dipped into his sack, and threw an arch of gold to the crowds. Most of the onlookers forgot their apprehensions as they went on all fours, gathering riches. Shrieking happily, they smiled like children. ‘Compliments of the Jesters! And Magor can hump a goat, our ugly king!’ he yelled and pulled at me, whispering. ‘Poor Kallir,’ Molun lamented. ‘He was my only friend, Maskan. I’ll talk with the Bear tomorrow on how to honor him. Mix with the crowds, change the face, get to the safety and good luck,’ he said and indicated the sack with a heavy nod, then hefted it at me.

  The bag burst asunder.

  So had Molun.

  He died, for the Brother was leaning on the wall, having just swung his blade one last time, and so Molun died at my feet, his ribcage peeking from the ruins of armor, his face a mask of terror as death took him. A sea of gold covered his crumpled corpse. I roared, growled, and charged the Red Brother. He saw me coming but did not lift his sword for some
reason. His sword went down. I struck at the Gargoyle and Larkgrin whirred in the air as it hit the stubborn knight on the helmet. The hit was incredibly hard, the helmet spun off to the shadows, the man fell to the wall, and my weapon hovered over his face. ‘Maskan? That is your name? And Bear? We don’t know Bear’s real name. We will. The White Brother knows a spell to find you, now that you have a name,’ he grinned with bloodied gums, terribly hurt, and I cursed for Molun had given away my name. And Bear’s. He was a beautiful, blond man with innocent blue eyes, and it was hard to believe he was so proficient and savage with a weapon. ‘Valkai the Heavy? Naram? But in reality, Maskan. You are a strange creature. But perhaps not so strange. We will find you.’

  ‘It is just gold,’ I hissed. ‘The Jesters covet it and should you come for us, we will kill the lot.’

  ‘Jesters?’ he said grinning. ‘Oh, we will come for the Jesters. We must! After this, we have to purge them, so you get your wish. My brothers will do it happily. But you are no Jester. And we will find you. Listen. These friends of yours? You do not understand—’

  I wanted to kill him.

  But I would not.

  Instead, I kicked his face, and his eyes rolled in his head. ‘Larkgrin,’ I whispered; the staff disappeared, and I grasped the gold and pushed my way through the crowd. I took the face of the hunter and nobody noticed in the frenzy. There was a group of guards running by, but I saw they were going uphill for a terrible conflagration, just up the Griffon’s Stride. People were now jostling and pushing each other, and they swarmed the mint to get rich. The Silver Bells rang in the walls, and I heard trumpets blaring in the tower. I ran, looked back and saw an old woman disappearing into the mint. Another was rifling through the Brother’s body. Hope she stabs him, I thought and ran until I could not run anymore. I began to walk.

  Then, someone tripped me into an alleyway. I fought him off, but I felt a blade rip my coat. I backpedaled away and saw Twitch’s bruised face, his hand stabbing down with wicked steel. ‘I still want my prize, Lord of Lies,’ he hissed. ‘And the gold.’

  A spear hit him in his back; a thin point burst from his chest.

  I was bleeding, and I saw three figures rushing forth. ‘Here, get him!’ It was Sand, his face covered in soot. ‘Maskan?

  ‘Take the coin sack,’ Lith said, and she retrieved the spear. She was wearing tight, practical leathers, her hair was wild around her face. And last came another girl, Shaduril, dressed like Lith. ‘Maskan? We know Bear, but nice to meet you. Maskan is your name?’

  ‘What is she doing here?’ I asked Lith, stunned. ‘Yes, that is my name.’

  ‘The family owns the Affront, the tavern, Maskan. She is my … sister.’ She did not seem happy about the fact. Shaduril looked away from her in disgust.

  ‘What?’ I whispered. ‘How did you know it was us?’

  Lith looked embarrassed. ‘Sorry, we knew. Always did. Didn’t want to lie, but we were ordered to play along by Balan, our father. The Jesters found your family. We knew as well.’

  ‘Yes,’ Shaduril said softly. ‘I am sorry as well. Valkai sent a word to the family that they would use you to execute our plan, as soon as you were found. He named the Bear. When Kallir came to Lith, it was like the gods had sent you to us.’

  ‘Why would you want the Jesters gone?’ Sand asked. ‘They worked with you.’

  Lith shrugged. ‘Valkai also demanded much more than they had previously. He asked for too much. We decided it was a good idea to be rid of Valkai after we figured out your plan. A brilliant plan. Sorry for the acting, Maskan. I knew who you were.’

  ‘We succeeded,’ I said. ‘It was costly.

  ‘The Jesters will suffer,’ Shaduril agreed. ‘I think you managed that much. Now that they are gone, I hope you will work with us.’

  ‘Killing royals? Look—’ I began.

  Shaduril shook her head. ‘We are not Valkai. We are not forcing you. But we have common enemies, and we are here to help. And I think we did already. You can take your face now,’ she said very gently. She was beautiful, and I obeyed her.

  ‘Much more handsome than the other face. I dislike mustaches,’ Lith said with a grin and Shaduril shuddered with brief anger. She controlled it and smiled though it was visibly hard to do so. ‘Allies?’ Lith asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

  ‘Look, you need—’ Sand began, and then I clutched his hand.

  ‘The family is in danger,’ I told him in panic.

  ‘How so?’ Sand asked, looking strangely subdued by the two females prowling around us.

  ‘The Brother said they will find me. Said they know who we are,’ I hissed in pain. ‘He overheard my name. Your father’s title.’

  ‘Shit,’ Sand cursed and looked distraught. ‘What now? We with the noble bitches?’

  Shaduril was eyeing Sand unkindly. ‘Your friend survived his crime, I see. An arsonist.’

  ‘Barely survived,’ Sand said defensively. ‘There were guards looking for me, just after the house burned. Crawled out of the back window. It was an abandoned one. Nobody should die.’

  Lith looked very troubled as she waved Sand down. ‘They know your name?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said and stood up.

  Sand pushed at me. ‘How do you know? The Red Brother is down. Hurt. Dead? I doubt he–’

  Shaduril shook her head; her face was concerned. ‘He was up just after the fight, pushing people out of the mint. We saw it. You should have killed him, Maskan. A Mad Watch officer was talking with him. They will burn the Old City, but they will leave no stone unturned to find Bear. And that likely means your family is in genuine danger. Right?’

  ‘The family is not in the city,’ I said while massaging my neck. ‘He said White Brother has a way to find them, but how could he? They are well hidden. They are … we are criminals, after all. They can hide their tracks. Nobody even knows Bear’s real name. Though they do mine …’

  Shaduril leaned on me; her hair was brushing my face, and I saw Lith look away in disgust. ‘But they have spies, Maskan, they will know someone who knows the Bear and where you are holed up. They are better at than Valkai was, even. Believe it. They don’t hunt all the vagabonds in the land, no, but they could catch the most. Someone will always speak up. And this business with the White Brother and your name is bad. You should stay with us. You are safe with us.’

  ‘What about the White Brother?’

  ‘He has strange ways,’ Lith said softly. ‘They did not lie. If they know enough about a person they wish to find, he can find them. The White Brother. He will find nearly anything. He has a talent, Maskan, for finding things. Or do you think that wondrous staff of yours is the only item of power? And your skill with face changing the only magical skill in Midgard? They all have something, Danegells.’

  ‘I thought I was unique, yes,’ I said sullenly.

  ‘No, it is not an unusual skill,’ she said. ‘We should hurry. Balan, Father, will tell you more about magic later, but your family? Let us go. We will hide you. All of you. They cannot find you while you are with us.’ Lith tapped a finger on an amulet. ‘Because we are well protected as well. Your family is not. I am sorry they are in danger. She leaned on me. ‘I will, unfortunately, stay here to tie up some loose ends. Don’t forget me, Maskan.’

  I shook my head, and stone-faced Shaduril led us off, without a word to her sister. We tried to exit the city, but could not. The gates were closed, the walls crawling with men. Nor could we leave that evening. Nor that night. Very early in the morning, we inched for the gates. There were wagons rolling out of the city, filled with corpses. The Grim Jesters, I thought. The Bad Man’s scaffolds were filled with hanging corpses, one with conical robes and a female’s face and one vast man. Valkai? The Horns? While we stared at the endless number of corpses being taken out, Shaduril got a note, likely from Lith. By late morning, the gates were open again though we had to disguise ourselves as Shaduril’s servants to exit. We rode like the damned for the Hall. Shadu
ril fingered the note and looked sadly at us.

  ‘I am sorry,’ she told us. ‘The White Brother found your home.’

  CHAPTER 7

  I stared at the burning Green Hall. It was no longer our haven, but a den of death.

  It was crackling fiercely; the timbers could only barely be seen amidst the smoke, soot, and flames. A small army of men stood in front of the hall. The Mad Watch, by their red cloaks.

  Worse, there were corpses swinging in the haze of smoke and one, I was sure, was the Bear. The man’s back was arched from the pain he no longer felt, for he had died. Then there was Mir, my mother. She was no longer the caring, practical woman I had known, but a sad, small corpse without shoes and she hung forlornly, her hooded face hanging on her chest. I was so happy I could not see her face though I knew her by her clothing.

  And Ann.

  She was there as well. She was probably gazing up at the sky, her hands lax on her sides and she was gently swirling in the wind, also hooded.

  Crows were hopping on Bear’s corpse, but not on the women’s. I was grateful for that as well. The killers were still down there.

  Sand was sitting next to me, holding his head with two hands. He had not said a word, and I did not wish to know what he was thinking about. At least he had not rushed forward to a suicidal attack—so far, he hadn’t—but I kept an eye on him. Shaduril was near us, looking grimly at the sight. ‘Your sister is a whore? She slept with Naram,’ I asked her, my mind dazed, and I realized I was blabbering. Mother was dead. She was dead.

  ‘No,’ Shaduril said simply and softly. ‘Well. Not with him.’

  ‘But … ’ I began but went quiet.

  She crouched next to me. ‘Naram and the Blacktowers were in a small business deal together. He would bring us a daily bag of stolen golden flans, and we would make them useful. We know the jewelry business. He was too lazy to make the connections by himself and likely too scared. He had a crush on Lith, flirted shamelessly with her, was jealous as any fool of her, of course, but they had nothing like that between them. I don’t want to speak of her. Not now. But you must know that we are pretty much in the same business as you are, Maskan. Or were. I am sorry for your family. It was a risky endeavor.’