by C S Vass
When Torin arrived Godwin had hoped that his assignment would be to slaughter a demon. Some werewolf terrorizing a mountain village or a boruta that had swindled its way into a group of nobles. He knew missions to hunt men were still somewhat of a rarity, but the fact that the Shigata had been accepting more of them recently was a troubling sign.
“We’ll ride together another time, Torin. I will take this assignment and slay the outlaw Kanjo.”
Torin didn’t try to hide his disappointment. “I don’t know why I get my hopes up when I know what you’re going to do from the start anyway. Very well, brother, then the task is yours.”
“Wait for me here,” Godwin said spontaneously. “Surely you can find a way to entertain yourself in Hart for a few days until I come back. Afterwards we can ride to Unduyo together.”
Godwin didn’t realize how excited he felt about the prospect until Torin turned him down. “Sorry old friend. I don’t have several days to wait. Duty calls most urgently. But do be careful. The Chillway is rather dangerous in Winter, even if you only have a short way to go.”
“The same goes double for you then. You have a lot farther to travel than I do.”
Torin smiled. “Indeed I do. But before I take my leave, I trust that I don’t have to remind you not to go recruiting help from any friends you might have in town or elsewhere. This mission is a secret and you will treat it as such.”
The two men embraced quickly, and Torin was racing down the rampart stairs and into the labyrinth of the city with his black cloak trailing behind him. Godwin felt strangely empty watching him go. He wished he could have answered differently, but it was not yet time for him to travel to Unduyo.
There was a job to do.
Chapter Two
Godwin reached Snowpit at daybreak.
The prison lay only a few miles outside of Hart. He would never have noticed it had it not been for the wolves that crept over the snowy landscape. They were bundled in heavy furs with the symbol of King Boldfrost, a massive ink-black paw, displayed proudly across their chests. As was customary, their commander’s head was draped in that of a massive grey wolf with conical yellow teeth poking out of a yawning mouth. He approached Godwin with authority.
“Halt! Do you know where you are?”
“I believe I’ve arrived at Snowpit.”
“That you have. State your business.”
Godwin looked around. There was nothing but rolling hills of snow that ended abruptly at a rocky cliff which overlooked the Eternal Sea. Pink and green light danced in its waters as the sun moved more fully into the sky. “Excuse my ignorance, but where is the prison?”
The commander’s eyes narrowed. He had an angular face with severe blue eyes. Godwin would have taken him more seriously if not for the ridiculous, huge broadsword he wore on his back.
“You’ll answer my question first, if you please,” the commander urged. “Why are you here?”
Godwin relented. “I’ve been summoned by the King. I’m Shigata. Heard there was a problem that needed solving.”
Just as Godwin knew he would, the commander sneered at the mention of the Shigata. “You have proof?”
“I do.” Godwin made no move to show the commander his thrygta. The two men stared at each other silently.
“Very well,” the commander said at last. “I’ll show you the way.”
Godwin nodded. The commander summoned several of his wolves with a whistle. Before they arrived Godwin couldn’t help but ask, “Your sword. Why do you wear it on your back? Surely you know that it’s impossible to draw?”
The commander looked at Godwin with derision. “It’s decorative, Shigata. A symbol of my authority. Commanders here don’t cleave heads; we order our men to do that for us. Do you have any other foolish questions, or can we get down to business?”
“My apologies, commander,” Godwin said with just such an inflection that the commander spent the rest of the walk wondering if he was being mocked.
Snowpit, it turned out, was hidden inside the cliff. There were carefully hidden snow-white ropes that led them down to the rocky beach below. From there the entrance to the prison was carved into the cliff’s edge.
Inside Godwin felt as if he had entered an enormous hive. The prison was constructed of cramped circular tunnels lit by small, sad fires every hundred paces or so. The commander led him through the maze-like structure for several minutes until they reached an opening.
“Wait here,” he instructed. Before Godwin had a chance to reply, he was gone.
Within moments two men appeared. One wore fine red and green velvets with a brilliant black cape trimmed with silver. He had brown eyes flecked with grey, a widow’s peak, and a fat, red face. Godwin immediately took him for powerful nobility. The other was older, taller, and much angrier. He had cold blue eyes that met Godwin with immediate dislike and wore only simple leather armor.
“Shigata, it is good of you to come,” the man in velvet said. “I am Lord Reymund Djaro, ruler of Hart. This is Damon Ironskull, the Warden of Snowpit.”
Godwin nodded politely to them. He knew from experience it was always best to hold his tongue when meeting new clients until he had a sense of their true feelings about being forced to hire a Shigata. After all, nobody hired a Shigata unless they were forced to.
“We’re wasting time on these foolish introductions,” the Warden complained. “There’s a madman running lose. Are you going to capture him or not?”
“Details would be helpful,” Godwin said calmly. “I know very little about this Kanjo.”
“The man is highly skilled,” Lord Djaro said. “We have no idea how he escaped, but once he did the wolves were set on him. He killed…” Djaro turned to the Warden. “How many?”
“Four,” the Warden said bitterly.
“And you don’t know how he escaped?” Godwin asked.
“We don’t!” the Warden growled. “Were you not listening or do you just have shit stuck in your ears?”
“Damon, be calm,” Djaro said.
Damon crossed his arms, making himself look like an overgrown toad. “I’d say it’s not the time to be calm, my lord. A lunatic got free of the prison, and when we ask King Boldfrost for help, he sends us this…this…”
“Go on,” Godwin said calmly. His voice was as low and hot as the fires that flickered from the torch sconces around them.
Damon looked at Godwin with intense hatred. “Tell me, Shigata. Do they allow women into your order?”
Godwin kept his face a mask. Still, that was the last thing he expected to be asked. “We do, Warden. The Sages find that sex has no correlation with the qualities one needs to join our ranks.”
“Hm,” the Warden huffed. “Perhaps I should have considered it for my daughter. She was like you. Silver eyes. Star-blessed, they called her. Ha! Star-blessed my arse. But I suppose there’s always this kind of work to be found for a humanoid.”
“Hold your tongue, sir!” Djaro spun full around to face the Warden and was obviously made deeply uncomfortable by the slur.
Godwin chuckled. Internally he seethed. “That’s quite all right, Lord Djaro,” Godwin said. “Warden, may I ask, do you know what constellation you were born under?”
“Of course not!” the Warden hissed. “Do you take me for some kind of eccentric? Why would I care?”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s just the eccentrics that pay attention to that sort of thing.” Godwin opened his silver eyes fully and looked directly at the Warden. The man was practically crawling in his skin, but pride forced him to maintain his position. “The guardians teach that even those of us who aren’t visibly kissed by the stars may still be influenced by their position at the time of their birth.”
“Guardians,” the Warden grumbled. “Another pack of fools.”
“Hm. A strange opinion coming from the Warden of Snowpit.”
“What’s that?” the Warden barked. “Are you calling me strange, Shigata?”
“The guardians built
Snowpit, did they not?” Godwin went on. “What’s more they did so by the magic of the stars. According to Donyo’s History of Western Gaellean Architecture the Mage and the Wolf were both heavily present during Snowpit’s construction.”
Djaro looked ready to interrupt the digression their conversation had taken, but the Warden spoke before his lord had the chance. “The Mage and the Wolf. That‘s just like you silver-eyed fools to bring them up. Everyone wants to talk about the Wolf, or better yet the Dragon. You know who I never hear you freaks discuss. The Murderer. The Serpent. The Demon. When you can speak of them without blushing, then talk to me about the guardians and their stars!”
“Gentlemen!” Lord Djaro urged. “Please, we have a more serious matter to attend to.”
“Indeed we do,” Godwin agreed. “To get back to the matter at hand, tell me about the man who escaped. Tell me about Kanjo.”
“There’s not much to tell that you don’t know now,” Lord Djaro said. “He escaped. We don’t know how. There’s no sign of the direction he traveled, but the snows were heavy last night. It seems the heavens were against us. Only a Shigata would know how to track him. Can you do it?”
“Hold on, now just hold on,” Godwin said. “One thing at a time. What was Kanjo in prison for? I know he committed crimes to get out, but what crimes did he commit to get in?”
“That’s classified,” the Warden said quickly. “And irrelevant to the investigation at hand.”
Godwin looked the Warden up and down. He normally did better at controlling himself, but he was operating off of practically no sleep and he was starting to grow very irritated with the man.
The Warden must have sensed Godwin’s loathing for him. He took a step towards Godwin and opened his mouth. “Lord—”
“Lord Djaro, I recommend you find a new Warden for your prison. I’m afraid that the one you currently have is an imbecile.”
“Imbecile!” the Warden roared. “You insolent humanoid. You serve at our pleasure! You—”
The Warden’s face turned from white to red as quickly as virgin snow splashed with blood. Godwin’s hand was around his throat and he was holding him firmly against the wall.
“A filthy slur, that,” Godwin said. “And one that you’re not even using accurately on top of it. Now I let it pass once already. This time I warn you more severely. Say it again, and there will be no warning. I’ll take your ugly head right off your shoulders. Understand?”
The Warden’s face was a storm of rage and fear. Slowly, he collected himself and nodded while Lord Djaro gaped at the scene that unfolded before him.
“As I was saying,” Godwin continued without releasing the Warden. “You have a man who is far outmatched by the job he was given. This Warden, who allowed Kanjo to escape in the first place, has no respect for magic. I should think that alone would make it obvious that there are opportunities for escape from this prison. On top of that, he’s likely hated by at least a portion of his men.”
“Lord Shigata, please,” Lord Djaro said weakly. “Let him go.”
“First of all I’m no lord, and I’ll ask you to not use that honorific again. Secondly, my name is Godwin. Thank you for asking.”
“Godwin, you’re harming him!”
“Not as badly as he’s harming himself and this prison. Tell me, Lord Djaro, how many wolves serve here at Snowpit?”
“Wha—one hundred, give or take,” Djaro said quickly.
“One hundred, as a modest estimate. Very well. Out of that one hundred, how many elves? How many dwarves? How many ogres? How many Star-blessed?”
“Godwin, please—”
Godwin only answered by shaking the Warden’s neck, which was now a violent shade of purple.
“Elves, maybe ten. Probably three or four dwarves. I doubt there’s an ogre. As for the Star-blessed, I have no way of knowing.”
“One in ten are said to be Star-blessed,” Godwin said. “Of course, that doesn’t include the families, wolves who have spouses, children, close friends who fit those characteristics.”
“For hell’s sake let him go, Godwin!” Djaro roared.
“The point is, my lord, there are many,” Godwin said as he released his grip. The Warden fell to his knees and panted heavily while looking at Godwin with rage.
Godwin paid the Warden no mind. “Many, who certainly have no love for this man who leads them. That is a problem for you.”
“I should have you arrested!” the Warden cried as he massaged his throat. Djaro made no move to interfere.
“The point,” Godwin said. “Is that when you put a man of such ignorance in charge of a large group of people, he will command their hand but never their hearts. That is why you have a prisoner who has escaped from what is supposed to be an impenetrable fortress. Do you understand?”
“I will discuss the matter with my Warden at the appropriate time,” Djaro said.
Godwin nodded. “Very well. I expect we can get back to the business at hand. I need to know about Kanjo if I’m going to find him. Since you seem so reluctant to tell me why he ended up in prison in the first place, then I’m going to have to inspect his cell.” He turned to the Warden. “No need for you to tag along.”
The Warden’s face turned bright red all over again. “I’ll be happy to assist you, Shigata,” he spat.
Godwin granted him a horrible smile. “Excellent. I’m glad to see you’re ready to start working with those who you might feel you have differences with.”
* * *
They led Godwin deep into the frozen heart of Snowpit. Kanjo’s cell was a small thing: just barely enough room enough for a man to lie down properly. It was sealed by cold iron bars.
“There’ll be nothing for you to find, Shigata,” the Warden complained. “Every moment you waste here is another moment for our fugitive to get farther away from justice.”
“Damon, please, let the Shigata do his work. We already have men searching the Chillway, and if it’s possible that there’s something important here, then I don’t want to miss it.”
The Warden huffed but didn’t question his lord.
“They call you Ironskull, right?” Godwin asked.
“They do.” The Warden folded his arms proudly, waiting for Godwin to ask how he earned his name.
“They should call you Emptyskull. You’ve been more than useless in giving me information, but I won’t sit here and allow you to hinder the investigation beyond what you’ve already done. Now be quiet.”
“You’ll find nothing here but an empty cell and wasted time!” the Warden insisted.
Godwin paid him no mind. He took a torch from the wall and immediately began to look about. “There’s no way that King Mexdon Boldfrost had a prisoner he cared about enough to summon a Shigata to retrieve but not enough to tell the prison more about. So, Warden, unless you want to start aiding in this investigation, be quiet.”
“Please, Shigata, what are you looking for?” Lord Djaro asked.
“To be frank, anything,” Godwin replied. “Hair. Urine. Feces. Perhaps even—ah. Here we are.”
In a gloved hand Godwin held up a small piece of tattered clothing.
“Small help that will be,” the Warden complained. “It’s just a bit of cloth. All the prisoners wear the same fabric.”
“Indeed they do,” Godwin admitted. Then he spotted something else. A tiny drop of red, almost imperceptibly small. “Do they also all have the same blood?”
“So he cut himself on the way out,” the Warden sneered. “What of it? Blood is blood. It comes out red for us all.”
“I’m going to need to pass a few hours in the cell. Alone.”
“A few hours!” the Warden shouted.
Lord Djaro also seemed to have his concerns. “That’s quite a bit of time to spend here that could be used to hunt the man. Are you sure that’s necessary?”
The Warden wasn’t done. “Why alone? What mischief are you going to be up to in here?”
Godwin sighed. “You two, reall
y know how to give a man a headache.”
“I won’t have you conjuring up some dark sorcery in my prison!” the Warden insisted.
Godwin placed the piece of fabric carefully on the ground next to the dot of blood. He approached the Warden, staring the man down with open silver eyes.
“Tell me,” Godwin said at last. “I’m dying to know. How did you get the name Ironskull?”
The Warden grinned despite himself. Obviously it was a story that he loved to tell. “It’s a war name,” the Warden said proudly. “I’m a veteran of Bloodwater. Worked my way up from nothing. Started as a lowly foot-soldier. Some damn Tarsurian thought to take my commanding officer’s head off, and I leapt to his defense. The axe took me right in the helm. Smashed it right into the side of my head. It was a blow that should have taken my head off but barely gave me a scar.”
“You’re a lucky man,” Godwin admitted. “The name is well-deserved. What of the man who struck the blow? What happened to the Tarsurian?”
“The Dark Sea drank his blood,” the Warden smirked. “And by the way, luck had nothing to do with it.”
“Impressive. Very impressive. Tell me, Ironskull. If luck has nothing to do it, how would you like to try again?”
“What?” the Warden’s face immediately filled with rage. “How dare you? Was that a threat?”
Godwin approached the Warden, drawing himself to full height. He was a good head taller than the Warden. “I have listened to you badger me with your simple-minded suspicions and ill-begotten bigotries long enough. I am a Shigata here by order of King Mexdon Boldfrost. I am here to clean up a mess that you are responsible for, and my patience has now run out. So if we need to resort to threats like school-boys, then so be it. But understand. My threats are not idle. If you bother me with your imbecilic fears about magic one more time, I am going to take this sword out and see if Ironskull might be worthy of the name Steelskull. Do I make myself plain?”
The Warden stammered for a minute trying to find some way to salvage himself, but Godwin’s face was a mask of death. They both knew there was nothing about his words that was meant to be boastful. He was simply stating his intent.