by Max Anthony
“This is our road,” one of them said. “What are you doing running along it?”
“Good sir, I believe this is Queen Happy’s road and I am merely going about my daily business.”
“Well, Queen Happy isn’t here, is she?”
“No she is not, but I require to use her road in order to complete my journey to Burden.”
Aroused by the sounds of voices, another four men ambled out of the nearby farmhouse to see what the commotion was.
“I told you, this is our road now. And what’ve you got in them sacks?”
Skulks was momentarily distracted from his reply, for he’d seen that one of the men newly emerged from the house had three eyes. As he looked at the third eye, Skulks could have sworn it winked at him suggestively. Not only that, but one of the man’s colleagues appeared to have a tail, which swayed behind him, occasionally making an aggressive dart at another man nearby. Shaking his head slightly, Skulks turned his attention back to the man on the barricade.
“These sacks contain my travelling provisions and are of no interest to you.”
The man looked suspiciously at the sacks, for the contents were most certainly of interest to him. “Why is that sack moving, then?” he asked.
“Moving? I think you must be mistaken,” said Skulks, lying for the sake of it. These dislikeable ruffians were in grave danger, even though their numbers had now been bolstered yet again by a further three men from the house.
“No I definitely saw that sack move. I think you need to show us what’s in there.” A sword was drawn.
“Very well, but I don’t think you’ll like what’s inside,” spoke Skulks truthfully, laying both sacks down. Two heads appeared, blinking in the daylight.
“Do you mind?” one of the heads asked Skulks. “We were asleep!”
“These gentlemen would like to say hello,” Skulks replied.
Just then, the Weft’s face brightened and he stuck an arm out of the sack. “Look, it’s Coops and Klot!” he said. He waved. “Hi Coops! Hi Klot!”
The man with three eyes and the man with the tail looked somewhat less delighted to see the Weft again.
“It’s them!” whispered one.
“Bugger it, not again!” said the other in response.
Both of them smiled feebly as they walked slowly backwards while trying to give the impression that they were standing still. It was as if they had something important they needed to look at, just over there and were trying to go and look at it without raising questions from the other thugs next to them. Their slow retreat was lost on their colleagues, who were now greedily trying to work out how they could convert the current situation into cold, hard Monties.
“What’re you carrying children in a sack for?” asked the man who had so far done all of the talking. “You shouldn’t be carrying children around in a sack. It’s not good for them.” He turned around and whispered to the men nearest him, his voice clearly audible to Skulks. “Kill the one with the wonky nose and grab the children!” As he issued this command, he got the strangest impression that Skulks was getting bigger. As well as that, his own voice had become higher in pitch as if he had something caught in his throat.
“Boss, you’re getting smaller,” said the man next to him.
“Really small,” said another.
Sure enough, as he looked at his partners-in-crime, the boss saw that they too were now giants in comparison to him.
“What the…?” he squeaked.
“Wonky nose?” asked Skulks.
“It’s the children, boss!” shouted Klot, emboldened now that he was a good forty yards away. “They’re wizards!”
“Wizards, eh? Get ‘em boys!” yelled the lead ruffian, waving his toothpick-sized sword which had helpfully shrunk down in proportion to his body.
Skulks ran the first man through, his dagger-sword piercing leather breastplate and into the ruffian’s heart. At another time, Skulks might have felt guilty at what he knew was about to happen, but he could already see from their readiness to kill that these men were beyond redemption. Also, while Skulks was talking to their leader, he’d seen what he thought were bodies in a nearby ditch, carelessly covered over with scrub and branches. This was little more than a pack of murderers, looking to kill and rob again.
A second man lunged at Skulks, having failed to realise how quickly his friend had been dispatched. If he’d known, he wouldn’t have attacked so eagerly. As it was, he met the same fate as the first man, with his outstretched sword parried and his charge carrying him past Skulks, who killed him with a single backhand thrust of his dagger. As Skulks took stock, an arrow flew in front of his face, missing by a hair’s breadth as his Thief’s Senses saved him by moving him aside just as the arrow was released. The man with the bow exploded silently, body parts scattering everywhere as the Warp’s magic tore him apart. Another man adjacent received the same treatment as the Weft used the same magic upon him. A third man with a bow was intent on sniping from the upper floor of the farmhouse, and his arrow found its target, catching the Warp in the shoulder. Sparks flew where it connected as mage wards flared across her body, threads of them jumping to the Weft as his own wards absorbed part of the damage.
With these wards spent for the moment, the Warp and Weft could not risk taking another arrow. Relying on Skulks to keep the ruffians away from them, they turned and chanted briefly for a moment as the man in the window nocked another arrow. A boulder-sized fist appeared in the air before him, pausing for not a second as it descended, crunching through the walls of the farmhouse and turning the man into a bloody smear across the far wall.
As the fist withdrew from the shattered wall of the farmhouse, Skulks, already accosted by two men, felt a sharp pain in the kneecap, as the leader of the gang stabbed him with a tiny sword. Sparing a brief moment to admire the man’s bravery as well as his stupidity, Skulks kicked this shin-high ruffian firmly, propelling him over the barrier and into the ditch, where he flopped about once or twice before lying still with the bodies of those he’d been party to the murder of.
With a dagger in each hand, Skulks now found himself facing three men, whose sword-play was little to write home about. They thrust and they chopped, but Skulks was able to fend them off as the disembodied fist punched another two rogues, smashing their bodies into smithereens before its magic was spent and it disappeared with a peculiar shriek.
The three men in front of Skulks knew their days were numbered. Two of them threw down their swords as Skulks cut the throat of the third and watched as he fell to his knees, gurgling as blood gouted from the wound. Uncertain what to do with them, the decision was taken from Skulks’ hands. Both men screamed and slumped over, hands grasping their heads in agony. There was a noise like a heavy gourd striking the floor from height and their two heads burst open, spreading grey and red mush across the road in front of Skulks, who jumped back before his boots got messy. He looked over quizzically at the Warp and the Weft, though not judgementally.
“We’ve seen what they’ve done,” said the Warp. “They deserved more than we gave them.”
The Warp and the Weft’s Wielding was multi-faceted in the same way that Skulks’ was. They could see certain things, in the same way that Skulks could hear certain things.
“What about them?” asked Skulks, pointing to Klot and Coops who were running over the nearby field, determined to track down that thing which continued to elude them. There was also a last man, who’d come from the farmhouse. He was standing dumbly and weaponless, staring at the trio. The Warp stared back at him for a moment.
“Piss off!” she said, causing Skulks to raise an eyebrow.
“And if we see you again, you’ll not be so lucky!”
Taking his cue, the man dashed off, whimpering slightly. Over the other side of the field, Coops and Klot were crouched in a half-burned hedge, peering out to see if the coast was clear. Having used up their one chance with the Warp and the Weft to stay out of further trouble, they were out of l
uck now. As Klot tried to sidle further along the hedge to get a better view, he was concerned to find that his feet were anchored to the ground. As he looked closely, he saw that they were more than simply anchored, for they appeared to be growing roots into the ground, making an odd crackling noise as they did do. He looked over at Coops, who was also distracted by his feet.
“I think we’re done for!”
“I never did get used to this tail. And I wish you’d stop winking at me.”
“Sorry.”
With that, Coops and Klot spoke no more, for they had become a strangely ugly double-trunked tree. The transformation had been a painless one, which was perhaps more than they deserved given their shady and characterless past. In the years to come, when the war was just a memory, the tree would become a place where men and women would propose to their sweethearts, thinking that the double trunk represented two people becoming one. A few brave souls would try to eat the fruit, though it would quickly be found to be bitter and unpleasant, with an aftertaste of old socks or wet leather.
Not bothering to wait around to see the completion of the Coops-Klot tree, Skulks and wizards continued on their way to Burden. They didn’t have far to go now, for the city was less than an hour distant. There were other disreputable groups abroad, but none of them were foolish enough to try and stop the passage of this unusual trio. Soon they were standing in front of the city’s walls. From here it was evident that things weren’t as well as they appeared from a distance, with the walls scarred and pocked from magics and other, more conventional assault. The gates on this side of the city were lowered. They were solid and thick-looking, made from a black wood which Skulks guessed must be a thousand years old and as hard as steel. Although Skulks didn’t know it, the gates had taken the brunt of Warmont’s attacks and even so were less marked than the walls holding them.
Several heads looked down over the parapet.
“What do you want?” asked one head.
“We’re here to see our Aunty Happy!”
Nineteen
After a period of huffing and puffing from atop the wall, followed by a rapid escalation up the command chain, the gate to Burden was opened in order that Tan Skulks, Warp and Weft might pass within. They were escorted by a dozen armed men towards the fortified palace at the centre of the city. Skulks tried to engage them in conversation, but they weren’t in the mood for his banal small-talk.
The city itself reminded Skulks of any one of a dozen others he’d seen across Rhult. It spread out from the centre in a circular pattern, with the more affluent residents living closer towards the centre and the less salubrious areas being found in the shadow of the walls. Skulks had been counting taverns as he walked and did a quick bit of mental arithmetic to determine that the city had only one-third the number of taverns per head as Hardened. He liked to work these things out, for it gave him an idea of how much fun he was going to have during his stay. Burden was looking likely to be a disappointment. Although Skulks didn’t know it, Burden had a healthily-sized tavern district which their route to the palace hadn’t passed through, leaving his numbers skewed. In fact, Burden had almost three-quarters of the number of taverns per head as Hardened, making it a somewhat more attractive proposition had he been aware.
Their escort kept up a military march and it wasn’t long before they were at the palace. It was much smaller than the one in Casks would be, were it ever to be completed and this one in Burden looked much more business-like than decorative. An elderly gentleman was awaiting them just inside; a wizard from his robes and his sigil-spotted frame.
“Uncle Grampy!” said the Warp in happy greeting, though she didn’t clamp herself to his leg.
“Uncle Gramps!” said the Weft, also restraining himself.
Uncle Grampy looked at them fondly. “I’m glad you could make it,” he said. “I hear you got delayed?”
“Yes, we were held up by our good friend King Meugh.” The look on the Warp’s face made it clear that Meugh was not in fact a good friend. Uncle Grampy looked disturbed by this news.
“We don’t need any trouble from that little kingling,” he said. “And who is this with you?”
“He’s another Wielder. He saved us from Meugh. He’s to be trusted.”
Uncle Grampy looked like he’d defer the decision on trust to his queen, but extended his hand to Skulks. “I’m Troon Grampstillion.” Skulks shook the hand.
“Tan Skulks.”
They were taken without delay to see Queen Happy in a private meeting room. On the way, the Warp caught Skulks sizing up a couple of vases. She nudged him firmly.
“No stealing!”
Skulks looked hurt. “It’s nothing more than professional interest!” he protested.
Once in the meeting room, Skulks could see why a randy old goat like King Warmont might be interested in taking Queen Bounteous Happy as his bride, though he thought that bringing two kingdoms to their knees was perhaps too great a compliment. The meeting room was reminiscent of Heathen Spout’s office and Queen Happy was sitting in a comfortable chair, very similar to those in Spout’s room. She was an attractive woman, no doubt about it and had an appealing manner which Skulks could see was natural and not forced.
“How are my favourite wizards?” she asked, pinching the Weft on the cheek and giving it a little shake.
“Much happier now that we can see you’re safe,” the Warp told her.
“Are we too late to help?” asked the Weft, looking concerned. “We got kidnapped by a magic-immune thief-demon and our friend helped us escape.”
Skulks introduced himself to Queen Happy, ignoring decorum and protocol by staring at her chest as he made his greeting. The name Bounteous provided an apt description of her ample physical well-being. Not accustomed to such rampant boorishness in himself, he dragged his eyes away and adopted a serious expression. Queen Happy, wishing that a coin dropped into her depleted treasury every time a man stared at her décolletage, was neither upset nor offended and greeted Skulks warmly. She turned back to the Warp and Weft.
“No, your arrival is fortuitous. Warmont seems to have spent his forces against my walls, though I have few men left to guard them. My spies tell me that King Meugh is hoping to take advantage of the situation and will launch his own assault against both of us in the spring.”
“Will he wait till the spring?” asked Skulks, disappointed that he wouldn’t be around to see any action.
“We believe so. The weather is already turning cold. We’ll have three months where it would be unwise to move an army. In those three months, Meugh will be hoping we’ll be reduced to starvation rations. In truth, many of our crops have been burned and we’ll be hard-pressed to get through the winter without deaths and hunger.”
“It may be that Meugh’s assault never comes, for our fellow Wielder here has seen to it that the dissident Lula Grindy has the funding to mount a sustained internal rebellion against the King’s rule. We believe this Grindy to be a formidable opponent, should she establish herself in Trags.”
Queen Happy looked relieved to hear some good news. “I have met Lula Grindy on a number of occasions and she has always struck me as an honest and capable commander.”
“You may soon be fighting on the same side,” said Skulks. “Should she make it to Trags safely.”
“Let us hope that this is the case.” Being familiar with Wielders and their thirst for mischief, Queen Happy continued. “But I’m afraid that if you were looking for some excitement, you won’t find it within these walls. Not for the next few months at least.”
Skulks looked disappointed, but the Warp and the Weft were more patient and pragmatic.
“We promised to help you and help you we will. However, we promised our friend Skulks a boat back to Hardened, for he has some wizards to stalk.”
Skulks wanted to protest the pejorative use of the word ‘stalk’ to describe his intentions towards these wizards, but thought better of it, knowing that he’d most definitely be stalki
ng them and more. Troon Grampstillion spoke:
“We don’t have a sea-going ship available to us at the moment,” said he. All of our merchantmen are at sea, begging lines of credit in order that they might bring back supplies. The Fleet Sweetheart is due to dock, but it will be ten days from now. We will see that the promise of these wizard friends is kept and get you passage back to Hardened.”
Skulks worked out the days in his head, knowing it would be a close-run thing to get him to Hardened before the Convention. With little choice, he thanked Queen Happy for her offer of a ship, aware that it would be a sacrifice for her to lose its commerce. Wishing to do his duty and promote international relations, he put forth an idea.
“I know that the Chamber Council will be most grateful for your assistance in returning the head of its Office of Covert Operations. In addition to this, it has come to my attention that King Meugh has tried his best to cause harm to certain dignitaries from our good city of Hardened, me being one of them. Therefore, I am sure that Hardened will see to it that the Fleet Sweetheart returns with her hold full of supplies and other items which may assist an ally in the fight against the vile King Meugh.”
“Well this all sounds splendid,” said Queen Happy, pleased that one of her valuable fleet would be performing a double service to benefit her kingdom. “And while you wait for the return of the Fleet Sweetheart, please feel free to enjoy the hospitality of my palace, such as it is at the moment.” She looked rueful at her inability to be as generous as she might prefer.