The Beast of the North

by Alaric Longward

  ‘Let us be fair, Shaduril,’ I said, afraid, terrified. ‘There are plenty of truly beautiful women out there in the world.’

  ‘Why you—’ she began with a small, bitter laugh.

  I stopped her with an upraised hand. ‘But I would not have done the same for them.’

  ‘You would not have tried to save them?’ she asked, surprised.

  ‘I might have if they had been in trouble. I told you, I am a terrible thief. But I would not have stolen their pouch in the first place and planned to give it back to them,’ I said with shame. ‘I wanted to give it back to you, to get to know you. I wanted to see you smile. The gold, the fortune in gold? It mattered not in the least when I wanted to be your hero.’

  She smiled. ‘How romantic.’

  ‘I think I only wanted to find a reason to speak to you. I’m terrible with girls,’ I said miserably.

  ‘It was romantic, really.’ She giggled and went silent for a time. She wiped her hair from her eyes and shrugged. ‘I loved someone once. I’m not sure I’ll ever love again.’

  My heart fell, and I was nodding like an idiot. I felt the dark hand of fate grasp at me. ‘I see. Who was it?’

  ‘A boy. A fool,’ she laughed bitterly. ‘You are a fool as well, but not a fool like he was. Is. You are a thief; he was a nobleman, but you are more honest.’

  ‘He betrayed you?’ I asked her, and she leaned on me, which startled me.

  ‘He was to marry me. He took another, and I found it out from her,’ she said bitterly. ‘It’s a deep wound. Give me time to heal. Just a bit. Who knows how things will go?’

  ‘I’m …’ I began and nodded. ‘Honored. Exhilarated.’

  ‘Give yourself time,’ she said. ‘I’m not a dream girl anymore. Perhaps you will love another?’

  ‘Never,’ I whispered, and she squeezed my hand. ‘Do not speak of this to Father. Do not. And get to know me. Know true Shaduril, not a dream and a smile. Do you have anyone else? A girl? A lover of past life?’

  ‘I love Sand,’ I told her.

  ‘Is he a good kisser?’ she mocked me.

  I choked. ‘Like a brother. We are all on a perilous path, but I’ll never put the dead before the living.’

  ‘A good, immensely wise principle,’ she said softly, looking at the horizon. ‘You should never trust the dead. They are unreasonable. They make you do things you should not. Memories make you forget the living. I’m happy you are so wise.’

  ‘You make me happy, Shaduril, even if you give me little hope,’ I said and pulled off my shirt to dress in the one she had provided. ‘Fancy clothing.’ I fondled the fine, expensive leathers.

  She smiled and stroked the sleeve of the leather shirt. ‘Not really. It’s well made, but we wear rustic gear here,’ she said with a wistful smile. ‘In the court, I wear finer things, but here? Simple and practical and it is … home.’ She slapped me playfully. ‘As for your upcoming trials. We think you need to learn the basics of good manners.’

  ‘I’ll not bed anyone to learn … you know,’ I interrupted her.

  ‘Thank you for saving yourself for me.’ She giggled and sobered. ‘Relax. I trust you can make things work if it comes to that with the queen.’

  ‘Thank you, but I—’

  She put a finger to my lips. ‘Listen. There is a servant in the Crimson Apex, a butler called Gray, who used to serve the Danegell kitchens. He is a superb servant and a very patient man. He managed hundreds of people, and here his skills go to waste, to be honest.’ She leaned on me again, and my heart sang. ‘He managed to teach Taram proper table manners. That is an accomplishment. You will shine under his tutelage. He will teach you everything.’ She was very close to me, whispering. ‘You and I both know Father would and never will approve of you, not really, no matter where you were born and by whom. You are a noble, but not really. Everything we will teach you will seem weird, very odd to you. You will feel an outsider. And that is how Father will think of you, no matter how useful you will be, no matter his words. Whatever his plans, if he manages to pull this off, he will let us down one way or another. So let us make a deal. I think I will have earned something after I am done with the king business. You will take me out that day. Riding?’ Her eyes were suddenly desperate, and her hands were clutching the dress. She was terrified.

  ‘I cannot ride very well,’ I said and banged my head with my fist. ‘But I’ll learn. Of course, we go riding.’

  ‘We can take your Sand, perhaps, and we go and we travel,’ she said. She did not mean to come back. She wanted to go. Balan had promised me riches, she promised me love. Perhaps we could get both? She saw my hesitation and tapped my hand, trying to calm me down. ‘We will see, Maskan.’

  ‘Yes, we shall. I’ll not hurt you,’ I told her, and she smiled gratefully. Crec was to rule. It was intolerable. But Shaduril was there. She needed me. She was brave and alone. I was confused, stuttering, and then I remembered Ann. Ann had told me to kiss her. She had. And so I did. It felt right. I leaned down to her and kissed her cool lips. It was a long kiss full of promise, and I smelled her perfume, which was like a dizzying whirl of flowery fragrances. I swooned as the kiss went on until I had to break it off. ‘You can hold your breath for a long time,’ I told her and nodded. ‘We will ride that day.’

  She looked so happy. ‘Indefinitely long time. I believe you. I’ll ride with you, Maskan, that day,’ she told me after she pulled out of my embrace, and I loved her. It was so simple. I would have tried to catch a black shark with my teeth if she had asked me to. I nearly giggled. Killing the queen of Red Midgard was probably harder, though.

  ‘Good,’ I added like an idiot and looked to the sea. Sand would have to endure Crec. I would. And we would not leave. I was fully, unconditionally in love.

  ‘Now,’ she told me, bringing me down from the clouds. ‘As to the fabulous art of tasting potentially dangerous dishes. The few times the family have dined with the royals we have seen how they do this on public occasions. Gray tells us when it is unofficial, and she is eating alone; you will just simply taste the food under the nose of the Brother Knight in attendance. He will then take it out. If it is official, Falg comes to the feast hall from the kitchens, escorted by guards and a boy. The latter carries the food the queen will eat. She does not take anything from the feast but only eats that one plate. Same with the king. They fear murderers. They should. The boy then sets it down near her and bows to her. She will give him permission to go on. At some point. She might be engaged in a discussion, after all.’

  ‘How very bureaucratic even dining can be,’ I said drily. ‘I used to munch on bread while picking my ear,’ I teased her and resisted the temptation of kissing her again. She pressed a finger to my chest.

  ‘She will not expect you to simper and act like a virgin girl before a lusty lord. You don’t have to be afraid, nor do you need to turn your eyes down out of modesty. Falg is like you in the basic manners. Rugged, tough and to the point. Be a man, look handsome, and be patient, but efficient. Back straight, eyes focused. Gray will show you. Then, when she gives you the permission, you will use a fork set for you, mind you, the least fancy, plain one, and you will taste the food in one go!’

  ‘One go? So I cannot taste this and then that?’ I asked her. ‘She thinks I have a disease?’

  ‘Of course, she does! You are a slave and a man,’ she chided. ‘There, under her scrutiny, take a bit of each and swallow or chew, depending on what the cook has prepared for her and then, take some wine. She has only one cup, so pour some to the cup the boy will carry, again the plain one. Do not drink much. Do not gurgle the drink in your mouth. Do not burb or comment on the taste. Then wait. Do so for many long minutes until you are dismissed. Sometimes she is hungry and does not care to see if you die, other times she might keep you there for ten minutes. Then, walk back to the kitchen. And escape.’

  ‘One question,’ I asked her. ‘How will I poison the food?’

  She chuckled and flipped her hair to c
ascade behind her back. ‘Good point. Happy you asked. We will use poison from a fish. Deadly and rare. Will kill her in minutes,’ she said somewhat uncomfortably. ‘I know people who know people knowledgeable in these unfortunate matters.’

  ‘OK. But how will I poison the fish? The food I mean?’ I asked, utterly nervous.

  She made a vague motion with her hand. ‘That’s when your deft fingers will come useful. You will have some of the dried poison pellets in your hand when you bend down to taste the food. You will crush and let them fall into the food as you pick up some of it. Make sure you don’t drop any to the part that goes to your mouth. You will have to practice. Practice. You must not swallow any of it.’

  I sniffled, insulted. ‘I stole your pouch, and you never noticed anything. If anything, I can work miracles with my fingers.’

  She shook her head and teased me with a smile. ‘I was distracted.’

  ‘By the shine of the rubies you stole,’ I whispered mischievously.

  ‘Ah, you saw it!’ She giggled. ‘I also am deft with my hands. Hopefully enough to stab the king with a poison hair needle and get away from angry Brother Knights unless Father’s plans make it unnecessary to run. He hinted that he might have a way to secure us all a great victory.’ She eyed me curiously, and I nodded, hating the plan.

  ‘Will they engage me in a discussion?’ The queen and her family?’ I asked her, not liking her part of the plan one bit. Nor mine, as I thought more of it. ‘This is a terrible plan. Horrid.’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Keep it simple. Be sullen like a mule, but answer if they ask you something. Might you have a bad day? Do not blush! And yes, this is a brazen, terrible plan. But it’s the only way. You could stab her in the heart as well, but that would leave you no option for an escape other than to die from torture. You have seen them deal with—’

  ‘Thieves,’ I growled. ‘Then again, your father told me how he likes to hang people like me.’

  ‘We behead them,’ she corrected me. ‘I didn’t know we also hang them. That is so common. I mean—’

  ‘Yes, beheading is the Blacktower way of dealing with the vagrants,’ I agreed. ‘I am so sorry. My mistake.’

  She tapped my hand to get my concentration back. ‘All the kings hang thieves. Even you would, were you one,’ she told me and pushed me gently. ‘If Maskan were the Beast of the North, he would let them swing to keep the balance, and none would tell you to be merciful. Yea, starvation drives men to evil, but then there are those who are too lazy to work like most. Don’t be a fool.’

  ‘I don’t like the idea of killing a woman,’ I said.

  ‘Would you like to get humped by the king instead? I’ll change you your queen for the king. Take my face and bend over for him. No, wait, that would—’ She giggled and rubbed her face but could not contain her giggle any longer as she saw my shocked face. ‘Too bad you cannot change, you know, that.’

  ‘You are not as severe as you claimed to be,’ I told her, blushed to my ears.

  ‘I used to be fun,’ she agreed and went silent. ‘Will you try it?’ This thing? Even if I see, you hate parts of it.’

  ‘I’ll do it,’ I whispered. ‘And try to survive it. For my family. And … for you.’ Sand would hate me, I thought and groaned.

  ‘Gods, this will be terribly hard,’ she whispered, and I was not sure what she meant. The deed we were to try, or what was between us. ‘Try hard. It will have to do,’ she whispered. ‘I’ll be in the court of Dagnar, seducing the king, but might drop by, now and then. Practice every afternoon. Practice the act of poisoning, hiding the poison, practice looking indifferent, march around nobly. We will have our man training you.’ She held onto my hand and thumbed my ring. She was anxious, looked indecisive and nervous. She gripped my hand, and her finger pressed down. There was a sharp sound. Then she looked terrified. ‘Oh! I am sorry!’ I looked down to see my ring was indeed broken. Her nail had moved the stone, and it was loose. ‘Such a beautiful thing! I can fix it. Have it fixed!’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ I insisted though I was shocked. The stone moved, and I worried it might come off.

  ‘If you say so,’ she said and smiled at me. ‘Let us give love a chance. We will be Morag’s bane, Maskan, and then we shall, perhaps, be free.’

  ‘I love you,’ I said without hesitation. Even enough to let Crec sit on the throne and Sand suffer.

  She kissed me gently. ‘And I love you. You make me feel alive.’

  BOOK 3: THE BLACKTOWERS

  ‘While men cannot use magic, we can use magical items.’

  Balan to Maskan.

  CHAPTER 9

  ‘I don’t understand it. Not one bit,’ Taram Blacktower said an hour later, his eyebrow raised. ‘Why am I training you?’ He was wearing a dark open shirt, his lean muscles glistening with slight sweat. ‘You know nothing of fighting, and Father told me to make you proficient at least. To make you look like one, a fighter. He has so many strange plans, and I never know anything about them.’

  ‘It’s your father’s plan so ask him,’ Sand said and held his side, experimentally twisting his torso as he poked at the sore ribs. I cursed, as my friend did not really know the full plan, the part Crec was to play in it. He didn’t even know I was related to Gal. It bothered me, but the memory of Shaduril’s smile and kiss overwhelmed the remorse. Sand nodded at me. No bones were broken, and Taram wiped his hair from his eyes as he prepared to pummel Sand again with the staff. We were standing in the middle of a circular chamber, and it was empty, save for racks of wooden weapons on the side. The Lifegiver was shedding its light from holes on the top, illuminating the room though it left parts in deceitful shadows. Taram was just about done testing our abilities, and he was not impressed.

  ‘I know it is my father’s plan, thank you,’ he said irascibly, swirling the man length staff wildly about him, his balance, and skill perfect. ‘And asking won’t do any good. But I don’t enjoy being on the outside. Especially if I have to spend my precious playtime on this useless crappy joke. I could be courting rich women in Dagnar. I could bed some, if not most. I could be gambling in the Brewery and sailing the Straits. But I cannot make you a fighter in a few months. Not with you displaying an utter lack of skill. I promised Father, but perhaps I should not have done so. The simple, clumsy movements. Predictable, girly arms, weak strikes and thrusts. I could beat you with my legs broken. This training is as likely to succeed as it would be to teach a starving beggar to dance.’

  ‘Now wait right there …’ I began, and he launched an attack at Sand. My rough faced friend had not expected it at all. He dodged aside, very awkwardly, holding his own staff up with a shoddy, weak block, his arms straight, and Taram’s staff danced down, then under the block and ended up on Sand’s cheek with a meaty swat. I charged forward, pushing at Taram’s apparently unguarded back, but the young man sprung away and lithely landed on the ball of his foot. I fell over his other, outstretched leg, landed heavily, and bruised my shoulder. I saw his staff coming down, cursed and tried to guard my face. I yelped as the staff bit into my midsection instead of my face. ‘Augh!’ I yelled from the pain, and Taram stepped away, swishing the end of the staff at a speck of dust as if terribly bored. I cursed and climbed to my feet and together with the wobbly-footed Sand we clambered around, searching for the staffs. Taram laughed softly and waited for us to come at him. He looked deadly, his face hidden in shadows, and I was not sure how we could get any speck of respect from the man.

  ‘Right,’ Sand whispered. ‘I say I just tackle the bastard, and you pummel the Hel out of his back hide. The way we would do it at Bad Man’s. None of this dancing shit.’

  ‘Go,’ I agreed.

  Sand charged forward; I followed and Taram grinned, danced aside, kept Sand at bay with a whirling slap on the shoulder that made my friend flinch with pain. The young Blacktower was turning and running from us, positioning his body so we could not tag team him. Then he stepped forward to poke at us with the staff, playing c
ruelly with his victims, unconcerned and superior. ‘Inexperienced? Inept? Clumsy as an old whore?’ he chortled. ‘Which shall I put in my report of you two?’

  ‘Tyr’s beard!’ Sand hollered and threw the staff at Taram, who was surprised enough to stumble back a step, blinking his eyes. Sand charged in roaring, rolled on the floor under the poke that Taram threw his way and just managed to grasp Taram’s foot.

  The young man fell on his rear, his grin gone.

  Sand was dragging Taram to him, grasping at his waist, and I got there, using the staff like a spear and thrust down. It connected.

  With the floor.

  Taram had managed to squirm aside, and gone was the near eternal, foolish smile on his handsome face. He kneed Sand so hard blood flew across the floor from a cut lip, and he pulled himself up. I cursed and slapped the staff at him from the side, and he blocked, then poked ahead for my face. It connected, and I fell back and saw red dots of pain. He was coming for me again, fast as a snake, the staff whirling in the air, and I rolled aside, only to feel stabbing pain on my back, then again and a well-aimed kick in my rear. I groaned and saw him aiming another kick for my face. ‘For Shaduril,’ he hissed. ‘Keep your hands off my sister.’

  The foot hit hard, and I was sure I would not get up. Shaduril? He was beating me for his sister? He had seen us.