by Ted Striker
“Will you hurry the hell up and open the damned gate!” he roared. “And send for the healer!”
Without a glance at the embossed silver shields in the entry or the boars' heads, tiger- and wolf-skins lining the walls, or the silken curtains and precious ornaments decorating the private rooms of the castle, or any of the other trappings of royal luxury, Shimshon followed the steward into a room furnished with one lonely divan and a small gold-worked table. His men had been led to their bunks in the guardhouse. “Lord Porvir will be with you shortly,” said the steward.
“I don’t care when your Lord attends me,” snapped Shimshon, “As long as the healer does so promptly.”
“He was called as you entered the gate.” The steward withdrew.
A youth in healer’s robes arrived just before Porvir. He looked at the rash and nodded in relief. “I can fix that,” he said.
“Where the hell is Afixio?” said Shimshon. “Do you even know what this affliction is, youngster?”
“Itchers,” said the healer shortly. “Irritating but not serious. I’ll get some powder that will take the itch away immediately and eliminate the mites that cause it in two or three days.”
Porvir arrived then. He took one glance at Shimshon’s state of undress and looked away.
Shimshon was screaming at the healer. “Three days? Is there no magic that can handle the problem immediately? Where is the priest?”
The healer looked uncomfortable. Porvir said, “He died. One of those skin-walkers took him.”
“So sad,” commented Shimshon insincerely. “And you have no more adequate healers than this fool?” He spoke to the red-faced youth. “You! Get that powder to me right away.” When the healer didn’t move quickly enough, the Lieutenant shouted, “Now! Run!”
The healer ran. Shimshon said to Porvir, “So how are things here in the Kingdom of the North?”
“You propose to transact Imperial business half nude?” Porvir poured two goblets of wine, gestured with one to the imperial’s half-mast pantaloons.
“Why not?” replied the other, taking the goblet and draining it. “You seem to perform most of your duties that way. That skin changer that killed the priest, for example. You and your men were enjoying yourselves with her, were you not? And then you staged an impromptu arena challenge that turned into a slaughter of your men and let the wolf girl get away with her new-found compatriots. Finally you threw the priest to them to facilitate your own escape, yes?” Seeing the look on Porvir’s face, Shimshon laughed. “Surprised that I know about that? I have eyes everywhere, Lord Porvir. But I don’t care how you treat your prisoners or your subjects. As long as you pay the tribute on time, neither I nor the Emperor gives a copper minim about how you manage your kingdom.”
Shimshon hitched his breeches back into place. “Now, if you’ll be so kind as to have me shown to my quarters, and to send that damned half-healer of yours and one or two of your better-looking subjects up, I will be happy to rest my arse whilst I wear theirs out. Then, in a day or two, I and my troop will take your tribute and be on our way back to the Capital.”
“But when you have the itchers, aren’t you supposed to stay away from the wenches?” asked Porvir.
Shimshon laughed scornfully at that. “After I’ve gone, you can have them treated.”
When the imperial lieutenant had gone, Porvir’s wife emerged from behind a tapestry. She was tall and uncommonly beautiful, with brilliant blue eyes and light brown hair, although her long lashes and brows were several shades darker. Her lips were full and desirable, as was her figure under the rich forest-green gown she wore. More attractive to Porvir was the fact that she was extremely well-connected. Her mother was the daughter of the Fourth Peer of the Empire – and therefore the cousin of the Emperor. Her father was the 10th Peer, a more distant relative, but still influential. It was he who had discovered that Harald was treating with the Lesser races – the Elves, the Dwarves, and the Skin Changers especially, and had used his influence to get Porvir the chance to overthrow him and take North Keep for his own.
“He has no respect for you,” she said flatly. “That means that the Emperor has no respect for you. If your ruse with Harald had failed and you had been killed instead of he, no tears would have been shed; no vengeance would have been exacted. The Emperor sent you here to get me out of the way, and he sends Shimshon to rub your nose in it every six months.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” said Porvir crossly. “Haven’t I heard this all before?” That it was in great part true he had no doubt. The imperial court was filled with outrage and ambition, and Ayabis was as well schooled as he was in all that pertained to her Imperial heritage by the thousand-and-one intriguers whose delight it is to stir the various inbred pots of the court, thereby to hook out a few tasty morsels for themselves. He sighed. “Aya, at least here, we are alive and have some control over our destiny. How many of our contemporaries are dead and gone? My uncle had to murder his son to show his loyalty when my cousin offended the Crown Prince by flirting with the same courtesan as he. We may be ‘out of the way,’ but so long as I am sending tribute to Court, we have some value. And as my campaign against the Lesser races continues, we will be able to expand our territory. I expect to be able to annex those villages and farms to the north in no more than a year. Once that is done, our wealth will double, and our influence, as well.”
Ayabis sighed. She had heard this before, too. They would continue in this backwater kingdom, nominally “allies” of the Empire, until she was dead, and if Porvir actually did realize his ambition to expand northward, he would be dead as well, and another, more loyal Imperial Governor would be here in his place. But her husband was right in that for now her cousin twice removed, his Imperial Highness, was content to leave them in place, softening up the Empire’s enemies to the north, so long as Porvir paid the crippling tribute the Empire levied; and so long as she remained childless.
She went up to her chambers. Shimshon was there on her bed. “I see that you have not lost your taste for the finer things,” he said with a wicked grin. “I still have my taste for the finer things, as well.” He sat up on the edge of the bed and thrust his middle at her. “Come on, Aya,” he coaxed mockingly. “You remember what you used to do for me when I was your protector at Court, don’t you? I still protect you, you know. I don’t share what I’ve seen or all that my spies tell me about you and your maid Aradia; how you two are practicing unauthorized magic. You know what it would mean for you if that information were to slip.”
Ayabis’ shoulders sagged. He knew. “And if my husband should decide to come in?” she asked, trying to put off the inevitable.
Shimshon laughed in her face. “Porvir?” he asked. “He knows better than to come into this chamber now. In fact, he has stopped seeing you since my visit three years ago, when you proved to be too ‘ill’ to receive him afterward, hasn’t he? Haven’t you had to learn new tricks, how to use this wand, for example?” He held up a piece of ivory carved into a phallic shape, then tossed it carelessly aside. “Well, for the next day or two, you won’t need this at all. I’m here, and we can have all the fun we used to.”
The memories of Shimshon’s “fun” brought bile up her throat, but Ayabis knew that the vicious bastard would never hesitate to spill all her secrets to her cousin the Emperor at the smallest sign of rebellion, and she knew as well as he what the result of those revelations would bring. She pulled her expensive silk gown down to her waist and knelt before the Imperial Lieutenant. The taste of the anti-itcher powder was no bitterer than that already in her mouth.
Chapter 25
Tamoth stood in the shadow of a tall tree, screened by bushes, and scanned the far slope of the valley with binoculars. They were antiques from across the Veil, 1895 Zeiss Jenas once owned by a Prussian colonel. Brass and glass, with a very low energy index, if he were inclined to measure such a thing, which he wasn’t. Perkunas had prattled on about the difference in physics between the two place
s, how older items were less refined and had less energy invested in them. A pity, really, thought Tamoth idly as he swept the glasses from side to side and back again. One of those fifty-caliber sniper rifles would come in handy just now. But the smokeless powder in the cartridges, powerful enough to send a 700 grain bullet faster than the speed of sound for almost 2000 yards on the other side of the Veil, would generate twenty times that force on this side when fired, blowing the gun, the bullet and its shooter into a thousand little bits. If indeed, the cartridge didn’t explode all by itself simply from being here.
Flies buzzed around. Some even landed on him, but he withstood their bites without moving. Movement could be dangerous right now. Even the tracking of the binoculars was torturously slow, the lenses shaded by his massive hands to preclude reflections.
“Well?” asked Jwilla impatiently.
“You sound as if you really wanted them to be coming,” said Tamoth. “There! Up to the left of that large boulder by the giant oak. One, two, three, four.” He paused. “No more. That is a good sign; it means that we’ve confused them, at least. Where there were twenty or more, now there are only four. They must have split into scouting parties to seek along all the possible paths.”
“And these fools are the lucky ones who have found ours. Wonderful.”
“Perhaps. They may not have found a trail. These appear to be looking, not following.” Tamoth watched through the binoculars. “Yes. These have no clue about our location.”
“Yet.” Jwilla said. “They will find a trail, they always do.” Erych were relentless on a trail, and their ability to track even over rock or under water was legendary. The Elf watched the huge centaur back slowly into the shadow of the underbrush. Once concealed from view, he put the binoculars carefully into his pack and pulled out his recurve bow. He strung this with a brief bunching of his huge muscles and an elegant economy of motion and took six arrows from his quiver. five went point-down into the earth; the sixth he nocked and held loosely.
“You should go over there,” he said, pointing with his chin.
“I know,” she replied. She had understood immediately what was in Tamoth’s mind. “When they come up the path, I’ll make some noise as if in flight. They will rush to attack me—“
“And I will kill them. Half of them, anyway. I wouldn’t want you to feel left out.”
“Kill them all if you like,” said Jwilla. “I am a sharing kind of person.” She moved, crouching, to her spot, her spear ready.
Chapter 26
“I had actually managed to forget about this for a day or so,” said Branna as she dressed. “Parting is more distressing than I thought it would be.”
Bryan was propped up on Branna’s bed. “Yes,” he commented, “I was afraid this would happen.”
“What?” Branna arched an eyebrow at him.
“You, falling for me. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, you know. All the girls do. It might have something to do with my sexual prowess.”
Branna snorted a laugh. “Oh, to be sure, you’re a stallion!”
“Hah! Don’t let Tamoth hear you say that. It might make him envious. But in all seriousness, I’m glad that you can admit that you are in love with me.”
“You are such an idiot!”
“But an adorable one; you have to give me that.”
“You make me laugh. That’s part of why I’m so sad to see you leave,” she said. “I truly value your friendship and counsel. It’s been a long time since I’ve trusted anyone so completely.”
“Friendship!” Bryan clutched his chest, a pained look crossing his face. “Wait – is this the ‘friendship’ talk?”
She laughed again. “We ARE friends, aren’t we? Of course, we’ve seen each other naked. . .”
“Where I come from, we call it ‘friends with benefits.’”
“As good a description as any, I suppose.” She put her hands on his shoulders. “Your destiny is surely great, Bryan. But if you are ever in need and the Laignach are able, we will help you. Even if you weren’t Laignach yourself now, you would always find friends among us.”
A strange feeling warmed Bryan. At first, he couldn’t identify it, but the significance hit him after a moment. It was a feeling of belonging, of being important to someone for reasons beyond the fact that you were a good shot or steady under fire. It was a feeling of acceptance that hadn’t existed even in the tightest of the units he’d served with. “Thank you,” he said sincerely. After a moment, Bryan said, “So, do we hug now, or something?”
“You really ARE an idiot, aren’t you?” Branna hugged him hard and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Now,” she said briskly, “on to other matters. Neit and Aodhan will be going with you, and they have seen to your supplies. You can leave as soon as you wish. I bet that Jwilla and Tamoth are already there by now.”
“Aodhan and Neit?”
“Their idea. As I said, you have friends in Clan Conroight.”
“I appreciate it, but it’s a long trip. They don’t have to go, at least, not all the way to Answar.”
“Argue that with them. Or don’t; it would be a waste of breath. They’re determined to go with you.”
“Fine,” he acceded. “Well, better sooner than later.”
“I know you must be eager to get your two Gods out of your head.”
Bryan really didn’t know much about Mebd’s exit plan; Branna’s guess was as good as any. “Wait; they don’t know about that, do they?”
“No,” Branna shook her head. “That’s still our secret.”
“Not that I don’t trust them. It’s just that the less anyone knows about this, the better.”
As they started down the stairs, she asked casually, “Connor spoke with you?”
“He did. This whole idea of challenging Porvir seems shaky to me. That evil bastard isn’t the type that would play fair at that game. He’ll have some trick up his sleeve, for sure. Overthrowing a tyrant like that needs serious planning and a serious commitment, and I have no desire to be a king. Still, I said that I might come back to help plan something after I finish my business in Answar. I have a bone to pick with that guy.”
“I plan on picking over his bones, as well.” Branna growled. “And I welcome your help, if you want to give it.”
Afixio accosted them in the square. “What the hell do you think you are doing, leaving without me?” he demanded. “We had an agreement!”
“Really? I thought we had left things up in the air, since we were all positively going to die. And you haven’t mentioned it since.”
“Yes, well, that was because I thought that, by surviving, we had set the agreement, especially since you seem to have developed some kind of magical talent. Very unusual for magic to manifest for the first time in someone as old as you are. As a rule, it shows up at about ten or eleven years of age, if it’s going to show up at all. I’d like to test you.”
Bryan grinned and clapped Afixio on the shoulder. “It would be a pleasure to have you as a companion,” he said. “But all that will have to wait until I get back. We’ll be travelling Wolf-style to make up time, and I don’t think we can carry you.”
The wizard retorted, “And who will patch you up if you get into trouble?”
“I’m sure we won’t have any trouble,” said Bryan. “As the Wolf runs, the trip to Answar is only seven days. What could go wrong?”
Chapter 27
Bryan coursed through the forest south of Balstow, a charcoal streak against the green-and-brown background, his wolf nose pouring information into his brain, a rich olfactory report about everything around him. The Beast was there, not in charge anymore; now he was just one more weapon in Bryan’s arsenal. The scent of prey was wafting to him, and he was following, keeping the wind on his muzzle, until the Beast told him that the prey was near, just over that hill.
It was a mountain deer, as his nose had already informed him, an enormous animal about the size of a moose, but with thicker, more muscular le
gs and a huge rack of sharp antlers. This was an old monarch of the forest, and if Bryan had been in human form, he wouldn’t have considered this an animal worthy of hunting. Of course, he had been spoiled by his vocation. Nothing compared to the game of hunting men. Besides, this animal would be tough and stringy cooked.
Good thing he was a wolf, then. Bryan let the Beast leap in and hamstring the deer, then leap back out again before those antlers could rake him. Then in again, once more risking the antlers to snap a foreleg between vise-like jaws. This time he paid for his audacity as the deer caught him solidly on the shoulder, one wickedly hooked antler tearing through thick shaggy fur and skin even though he was already moving away to lessen the force of the blow. The injury was small, and his work was almost done, though. The deer’s left foreleg and right rear were the only good limbs he had left, even if he wasn’t ready to give up the ghost just yet.
*You should have waited!* Aodhan and Neit had caught up to him,
*I saw an opening and took it,* protested Bryan. *Now I’m waiting. He’s not going anywhere.*
*Well, now that we’re here, we can finish him. Watch and see how it’s done.* Aodhan padded over so that he was in front of the wounded stag. It lunged at the Wolf but stumbled. Neit was on the animal in an instant, sinking his teeth into the good rear leg and jerking backward with all his weight. As it fell, Aodhan’s jaws closed on its throat, cutting off its air. He half-rolled so that his weight was across the neck, holding the deer down while it strangled to death. Only when the last shuddering jerks and kicks told them that their prey was dead did the two wolves relax.