Bargain

by Riley S. Keene

  “What’s happened?” Ermolt said, turning back to the stove and pulling the pots and pans off of the heat. “And can it wait for about a quarter-bell? My banana bread is almost done.”

  Elise opened her mouth to explain, but was interrupted by the sound of rattling armor and marching feet as it grew clearer through the broken window. “No,” she said, a bit sharper than she meant to. Her friends looked at her with confused expressions that bordered on terror. “The Temple has found us. We need to leave. Immediately.” Elise surged forward and started pushing Athala back towards the back door. “Quickly! Before-”

  “Around the block! Around the block!” The bellowed orders were clearly audible, and the shouting voice set the hair at the back of Elise’s neck standing on end. “Teams of five! Teams of five! Torch bearers on the corners! Don’t give them a chance to escape!” Hern’s voice had the same commanding tone he’d once used to call for Elise’s death.

  “We need to run.” Elise’s heart raced in her chest, and even as she said the words, she knew it was too late already. Even if they left everything and ran now they would still need to fight their way through Hern’s perimeter. And they were not able to move even that fast—Ermolt wasn’t wearing his boots, and Athala’s irreplaceable books and notes were scattered across the floor upstairs from her studies the previous day.

  “Relax,” Ermolt said, trying to calm her. He had abandoned his pans to cool on the small preparation table he’d maneuvered into the kitchen. “How many are there? Fifteen? Twenty?”

  “Forty,” she corrected. “But it doesn’t matter the number. He leads them.” Elise backed away from the window and spun towards an empty shelving structure in the corner. “Help me with this.” Ermolt immediately stepped up beside her and the two of them worked the large wooden structure in front of the window. Elise knew it was only a few fen off the ground, and would be a point of entry for the Conscripts gathered outside. Once the shelf was blocking the window, she turned back to Ermolt. “Get dressed. The Temple is done messing around.”

  “Conscript Elise!” Hern bellowed from outside, causing Elise to flinch back from the door. “You and your friends are going to be taken into custody, one way or the other. If you still have any love for Ydia, come peacefully. You’re surrounded already and you won’t run from me this time.”

  Elise’s racing heart doubled in pace. Hern was probably talking about the previous escapes they had made in the last three weeks, but she couldn’t stop thinking about ten years ago, when she was a young urchin sprinting through the streets with his bellowing voice at her heels.

  She dared to peek out through the shattered window to take in the forces arrayed against them. The Conscripts standing ready in front of the house looked like an army. While she knew she was one of the better fighters among the Conscripts, the forces the Temple had sent was a massive overreaction to a mere three fugitives.

  “Conscript Elise!” Hern bellowed again, the voice accompanied by the hammering of an armored fist on the door to their hideout. She nearly jumped out of her skin hearing him so close at hand. “This is your last chance to come quietly!”

  Ermolt sighed heavily, crossing the room to where his hammer sat against one wall. The thought of going to meet the fight that waited outside made Elise feel a little light-headed. Even if it weren’t fighting against her own Temple—her friends and allies she had once called family—it seemed a hopeless battle. Not even Ermolt’s skill couldn’t match such numbers, without accounting for the skill of Hern himself.

  “We can’t fight,” Elise said as Ermolt stomped, barefoot, to the front door. “Didn’t you hear me? There’s forty of them! And even if it wasn’t an overwhelming force of Conscripts behind him, their leader could keep even you tied up long enough for his forces to encircle us and wear us down. It’s hopeless!”

  “Alright, alright. Don’t worry,” Ermolt said as he placed his warhammer beside the door where it would be out of sight until he needed it. He went to open the door and then paused, looking at Elise. “If we can’t fight, we’ll just talk, alright?”

  He swung the door open. Elise knew it was already too late for talking, but she put her trust and faith in Ermolt. At this point, it was all she had.

  Chapter Six

  As the door opened, Ermolt found himself looking down at a heavily armored, heavyset man with a look on unearned confidence plastered across his long face. The man was wearing the scale armor that Ermolt had come to associate with a Temple Guard rather than a Conscript.

  The two men stared at each other for a long breath.

  Ermolt wondered if this was the leader Elise was so afraid of. His bravado was great, sure, but he seemed to be no impressive combatant. Past the man, however, was the host. They stood out in the street in two rows of fifteen, each with weapons drawn or hands up. And Ermolt could just barely see that there were more around the sides of the row houses. Likely making their way to the backyard, if they weren’t already in position.

  Thirty opponents, plus the knucklehead on his doorstep, was a lot of people to take on. Ermolt hoped it wouldn’t come to combat.

  Ermolt looked back down at the shorter man just in time to catch the eye roll that had obviously been meant to dismiss Ermolt. To this man, this small, angry, squishy man, the massive barbarian before him had become no more important than furniture. Another shelf blocking his way.

  He tried to survey the room and grimaced when he couldn’t see much around the huge barbarian’s broad form. Ermolt braced himself against the doorway, firmly gripping the jam on either side.

  The man frowned.

  Ermolt grinned.

  With a huffed sigh, the man raised his maul and pressed the head against Ermolt’s chest. There was no pressure behind the initial press, which was good since Ermolt wasn’t wearing armor. But the man was trying to shove him out of the way. Ermolt stood his ground. He didn’t even have to push back. The little man lacked the strength to even make the northern barbarian budge.

  Ermolt made a show of looking bored, yawning exaggeratedly. “My banana bread is going to burn,” Ermolt said in a loud voice as he looked down at the man. “Can we do this later?” One of the Conscripts chuckled low, and the man whirled on them with a glare that silenced the chuckle. He turned back to Ermolt, but once more treated him as no more than a door.

  “Conscript Elise!” the man called into the room behind Ermolt. “You three are under arrest for your crimes against Khule and Ydia both! Given our history, I’d like this to be resolved peacefully, but I will not hesitate to raise a weapon in the defense of City and God!” The man ended his impassioned speech by pushing against Ermolt’s chest with all his might, groaning with the strain. Ermolt gripped the doorway a little harder and pushed back. The man was pushed a rhen towards the double set of stairs that lead from their door to the street.

  “You know, I’m not actually a door, right?” Ermolt said. “It is kind of rude to be ignoring me like this.”

  The man smirked and stopped pushing forward. He spoke in a loud, clear tone, one that said he knew those behind him were listening and would hear it. “If you think it rude, then you know why you were being ignored. If you insist on continuing to be a barricade, I will break you like one.” A few chuckles and gleeful comments erupted from the collected Conscripts and Guards, and the man’s eyes flashed with mirth. “I am your better, brute, and I advise you to remember that.”

  “If you’re going to call yourself my better, perhaps you could set a better example for me.” Ermolt looked down at the head of the man’s weapon. It was still planted against his chest, and a gentle pressure assured Ermolt that the man hadn’t stopped trying to push him out of the way. “I’m Ermolt, and you are?” He removed one hand from the door frame and offered it to the man in a traditional Khule greeting. He even smiled his best smile. Elise would have been so proud, if she weren’t cowering behind him.

  The man grimaced, but lowered his weapon. He took Ermolt’s hand with a gauntleted mi
tt. Immediately the man tried to crush Ermolt’s hand in his grip, but Ermolt was unfazed once more. “I am Temple Guard Hern, leader of the Temple Guards and the man criminal scum fear. Now, stand down, barbarian, before—”

  “Nice to meet you, Hern. And that’s a very nice maul.” Ermolt gestured to the weapon with his free hand. Hern’s gauntlet was still locked in Ermolt’s grip. While Hern had tried to crush the barbarian’s hand immediately, Ermolt was content to build the pressure he applied slowly. “A difficult weapon to handle, too. I suppose you’re quite accomplished with it?”

  “Yes, of course,” Hern said with an edge of discomfort to his words. He tugged on his hand, trying to free it from Ermolt’s grip, but the attempt was halfhearted. He didn’t want to look a coward by yanking it away when the barbarian didn’t take the hint. “I’ve trained most of my adult life with it, so I would say so.”

  “Perhaps you would like a friendly spar with it, then?” Ermolt applied more pressure to Hern’s hand. The gauntlet creaked. Ermolt leaned forward, making himself look all the more towering next to the shorter man. “I mean, once we sort out this whole,” he paused, “misunderstanding.” He gave a meaningful look over Hern’s shoulder at the assembled Conscripts. They shifted uncomfortably as a group, but still stood at attention.

  “This ‘misunderstanding’ is only going to be sorted out by the Temple taking you into custody.” Hern finally gave up his fear of looking weak as he stepped back and bodily yanked his hand free of Ermolt’s crushing grip. “Surrender now, and we can avoid any harm coming to you and your friends.”

  “Hm.” Ermolt scratched his chin with his now-freed hand. “Are you threatening my friends if I refuse?” Hern didn’t respond as the smaller man was focused on adjusting his gauntlet. Ermolt shook his head. “I should warn you that we northmen don’t respond well to threats.”

  Hern brandished his weapon. “I care not, brute. It isn’t in me to be deceptive, so I can only be honest with you: the only way you and your friends come through this unharmed is to stand down and be taken willingly into custody.”

  “Wrong answer,” Ermolt said, his tone casual.

  Ermolt reached out, almost lazily, and grabbed hold of the head of Hern’s maul. He grinned, slow and wide. With a tensing of muscles that made the heavyset man look like a clumsy apprentice, the weapon was torn from Hern’s grip. He grinned a little more. Ermolt whirled the weapon easily around his elbow, reversing the direction the head of the maul faced. With his wide grin now positively splitting his face in two, Ermolt took the handle of the weapon and knocked it against the side of the Temple Guard’s head with a dull cracking noise. The man stumbled under the blow. Ermolt was afraid he was going to fall over just from the little tap, but Hern but kept his feet.

  The man shook his head twice and then snapped his eyes to Ermolt’s face. An enraged snarl crossed his lips. “Get—“

  Before Hern could bark whatever order he was planning, Ermolt punched him. His fist sank into the middle of the scowling face. The man’s helmet protected Hern’s face from much of the hit, but all the same he flew off his feet and out over the stairs with the force. The Temple Guard hit the ground with a clatter of armor and a groan. Almost immediately he sat up, and Ermolt found he was mildly impressed. Very mildly.

  “You forgot something!” Ermolt called out before taking a step back into his living room. When he stepped forward again, he hurled the maul at the Temple Guard. The weapon spun head over haft. Every Conscript watched it in silence. The arc was perfect. Ermolt’s face-splitting grin returned. As Hern struggled to his feet, he looked up. The head of the heavy weapon caught him in the center of his helmet-clad forehead with a dull thwack.

  Hern crumpled like a marionette with its strings cut. The maul clattered across the ground away from the unconscious man.

  No one spoke. The Conscripts and Temple Guards just stared in a mix of horror and despair.

  Ermolt turned to look into the house once more. Elise was staring, slack jawed. “I thought you said he was good,” Ermolt said with a twinge of a smile. It wasn’t often that he got to outright prove his skills in such a grandiose manner to his companions, and so he found himself soaking up all the silent disbelief.

  “He was—you just—” Elise stared blankly past Ermolt at the unconscious Hern.

  “Fight isn’t over yet, though,” Ermolt said with a grin. He stepped to the side and grabbed his warhammer from where he had laid it to rest. “You with me?” He didn’t wait to hear their answers. He knew they would be.

  As he stepped out to face the host that stood baffled at their leader’s easy disposal, Ermolt regretted not taking a moment to put on armor. Against thirty Conscripts and Guards, he was likely to be killed without a protective layer. But there was no time. And at least he would go down in glorious combat after a glorious display that would be retold for years to come.

  At the sight of Ermolt’s impressive warhammer, the assembled Conscripts and Guards snapped back to focus. Orders were shouted as the Temple Guards began asserting authority and preparing for the fight to come.

  Ermolt sized up the crowd before him. He hadn’t ever fought a group so large all at once, and the feeling of victory not being assured quickened his pulse. His limits would be pushed today. He felt the thrill of battle rising within him, a red tide over his senses that he would need to embrace fully to overcome the numerous forces arrayed against him. As the Conscripts began to charge, he raised his hammer high above his head, and let loose a bellow of challenge.

  The sky opened in answer.

  Whenever Ermolt roared in combat, he fancied that the feeling of the sound ripping from his throat was conveyed to his foes. In his head it felt like he shook the battlefield with it. But he felt very small in comparison as it felt like the sky itself bellowed back at him.

  The earth truly shook.

  A great silvery-white shape descended from the cloudy morning sky, slamming into the street between Ermolt and the Conscripts. Its bulk and the impact of its landing scattered the host, sending many of them to the ground while those who kept their feet scrambled away in terror. The giant creature, covered in shimmering ivory-white scales, raised its black-horned head to survey the would-be battlefield, its glowing golden eyes casting a judgmental glare across the Temple’s forces.

  The dragon Meodryt spread its wings wide, standing up on its hind legs to tower over not just the host of Conscripts, but the surrounding buildings as well. Half of the Conscripts had already broken into a full sprint away from the giant creature. The rest were sent following them as the dragon let loose another earth-shaking roar.

  Ermolt bellowed in return.

  Chapter Seven

  Elise watched Meodryt’s approach with a mixture of sadness and satisfaction. Ydia’s strongest army, Her greatest band of Conscripts and Temple Guards, had been scattered in the streets by Her own dragon. Those who hadn’t fallen had fled, and those who fled had done so as cowards.

  It would have been uproariously funny if it weren’t so frustrating.

  Elise stepped out past Ermolt, descending the stairs out into the street. She desperately wished the Temple was not her enemy, but it felt quite validating to have Meodryt itself appear to defend her.

  When the dust cleared, only two members of the Temple’s host remained. The first was Hern, still unconscious. He was laid out on the street in an undignified manner with his limbs sprawled out and his maul near his feet.

  The other figure was Apel.

  As Meodryt lowered itself from its hind legs, Apel rushed forward a half-dozen steps before she threw herself to the ground. “Oh Meodryt! It is true!”

  Meodryt swung its scaled head in her direction for only a moment, before it dismissed the bowing figure with a wave of a scaled and clawed forelimb. “Champions of Ydia,” it said in a clear voice that shook the ground under Elise’s feet. Elise wondered if this were some benefit of being returned to full power, or if the dragon were showing off for the Cleric who wasn�
�t scared out of her mind enough to tell the tale. “We have much to discuss.”

  “Meodryt, please,” Apel pleaded. She lowered herself further to the ground, pressing her cheek against the cobbled street. “I beg your blessing, oh great dragon of Ydia! Please, I only wish to serve! Why have you come and how may I serve?”

  The dragon emitted a sound that may have been a draconian chuckle. “There appears to be an insect in my path.” One of those monstrous clawed forelimbs flicked absently at the unconscious body of Hern. “Remove it from my presence so that I may speak with Ydia’s Champions without fear of crushing it.”

  Apel hesitated for the barest of moments, looking between Meodryt and Elise. But before Meodryt could correct her for her inaction, Apel hurled herself to her feet and sprinted to obey. Elise could tell even from a distance that the Cleric would struggle. Hern was short and heavyset, even though most of his girth came from muscle, much like Elise. But he was also fully adorned in armor, and Elise knew that added much weight.

  The Cleric wrestled with the unconscious Temple Guard for a moment before she settled upon dragging him away from the dragon’s path. She locked her hands under his armpits and tugged with all her might. She struggled to get him moving, but once her grip was firm she was able to drag him down the street with some speed, presumably to awaken him once they were out of sight.

  Elise took particular pleasure in her own disbelief as Hern was dragged away. Ermolt had dealt with him with almost no effort at all, in spite of Elise’s assurance that the Temple Guard would have overpowered the barbarian. Seeing her friend take down the man who had tormented her dreams for so many years was a joy in itself. She wanted to hold on to this moment, to forever eliminate Hern as a nightmare in her memories.

  The elation was short lived. Before they rounded the corner, Apel looked up and the two once friends locked eyes. Elise was dumbstruck. The Cleric’s face was lit by an expression she’d never seen on the face of anyone looking at her.