Scion of Two Pantheons

by Ted Striker

  Porvir finally ran out of insults. He looked at the guard captain, then glanced at his sword, which was being carefully cleaned by a sweating servant. Dumitrou noticed the glance and felt the hot prickle of his own nervous sweat jump out beneath his arms. “What I need from you now is that you send one of your secret pigeons to your master Shimshon, with a message from me, detailing the fact that our revenues are down by two-thirds, explaining why, and asking for a hundred soldiers. Tell him that he need not come, as my wife was kidnapped and probably murdered by the Wolf-lover, but if he doesn’t send the soldiers quickly, North Keep will no longer be the plug in the bottle of the North.” He paused, looking smugly into the startled eyes of the spy, enjoying the fear he read there. “And as you leave, have two more concubines sent to my chambers.”

  Chapter 37

  Jwilla was coldly furious. “You had just one thing to do,” she told Bryan with quiet venom. “That was to get to Answar and take care of the Defender’s needs! Nothing else matters!”

  Bryan listened as she detailed his failings in a low poisonous voice. When her list of his failings had wound down, he replied as quietly as she, “Answar is not where we need to be right now. We need to be here.”

  Jwilla stared into Bryan’s eyes for a long moment, then turned on her heel and stalked out of the Council chambers.

  {She is a true disciple,} noted Mebd wryly.

  Perkunas laughed. {That is one reason I chose her to accompany me. Faithful to a fault. Not to mention that she is deadly with almost any weapon she can lay hands on.}

  {Nor to mention that she possesses every criterion of your personal preference in female pulchritude,}Mebd jabbed.

  Perkunas didn’t answer that. Instead he said to Bryan, {My son, tell Jwilla that this is just like the battle with Susna, when I gave the chariot wheel of the Sun to Kutsa. Tell her that you are as Kutsa. She will understand.}

  {Kutsa,} said Bryan. {I heard of him when I was working in India.}

  {He was a Hindu Deity. To them, I was known as Indra. Kutsa was my protégé.}

  Bryan found Jwilla at the edge of the forest, looking up the road toward North Keep. He cleared his throat, and Jwilla spun into a crouch, her long dagger out and ready. “Edgy much?” he asked sarcastically. Then he saw the tears on her cheeks. She turned away and said, “What do you want?” in a harsh voice.

  “Per—Lord Perkunas said you were death on two feet with almost any weapon,” he said, stepping closer.

  Jwilla slipped the dagger into its sheath. She scowled at him. “You still haven’t told me what the hell you want,” she said.

  Bryan said, “After you finished jumping down my throat and left, Lord Perkunas also mentioned that you should remember the battle between Kutsa and Susna, when Indra gave the Sun’s chariot wheel to Kutsa. He said that you should consider me to be like Kutsa.”

  “Vasara,” said Jwilla.

  “Eh?”

  “Kutsa was the name the Hindus gave to Vasara, the son of Perkunas. He was captured by the Danavas, their enemies, but he wed the Danavas princess. Perkunas took that as a betrayal, and disowned Vasara, who died of sadness, it is said. After that, the Danavas maid he married was banished by her people, and went into exile. She bore twins, and her children became the forbears of my people, the Elves.”

  Her voice became so low that Bryan could barely hear her words. It seemed that she was talking as much to herself as to him. “Later, when Perkunas repented of causing his son’s death, the God did his best to make amends to my people, including choosing his priests and priestesses from among us.”

  Jwilla smiled thinly, as if the act hurt her face. “He is using this story to tell me that he repents of what he did to you, his son, and that I should repent, as well.”

  “And do you repent?” asked Bryan. “Are you still so offended that I was able to resist Lord Perkunas?”

  “I was,” whispered Jwilla. “It’s nothing against you, Bryan, but you have to understand that I have been sworn to the service of the Defender for longer than you can imagine. When Lord Perkunas called me to come across the Veil to him, it was my greatest honor. I gave him everything – my sword, my loyalty, and my heart.”

  She looked him squarely in the eyes. “I knew that when his essence was transferred to you, it would be the end of your life. I didn’t care; I wanted my Lord to triumph. Our mission was to return the Defender to this world, no matter the cost.”

  “I know about keeping to the mission,” said Bryan.

  “Do you? Then why are we here instead of the Temple of Mebd?”

  “Because this is where our path leads,” said Bryan simply. “To ignore the situation here and simply go to Answar makes a mockery of the return of the Defender.”

  Jwilla grimaced. “We’re here because you insist on helping every Tom, Dick, and Harry who yells for help.” She paused. “I can’t believe that I’m saying this,” she complained, “but you’re right. That’s what Lord Perkunas meant by the story of Vasara. They fought because Vasara knew that force wasn’t the right way to solve the Danavas problem.”

  “And the right thing to do now is help DEFEND the people here instead of running off to the South.”

  “Don’t push it, Wolf Boy.” said Jwilla. Then she turned and trudged back up into Balstow.

  .

  Chapter 38

  “In three days begins Fómhair, the harvest festival,” Afixio announced.

  “And we can finally take the fight to Porvir.” Bryan said. “You guys have done a great job clearing out those bandits,” he complimented Aodhan and Neit. “Your teams have really turned those people by the River Road to our side.”

  “Not a difficult job,” replied Neit. “The King is a pig. He cares nothing for his subjects. As far as I can see, Bryan, all you’ll have to do is step up to be hailed as the new King.”

  “I don’t see why I’m the one that has to be king,” he said. “It’s not my style to sit on a cushion and order people around.”

  "I would have thought you would like to be a king,” said Connor. “Most ambitious men dream of such an opportunity.”

  “I’ve never been afflicted by ambition,” said Bryan. His ambition, once upon a time, had been to serve his country. A battery of ability and psych exams had steered him into the SEALs, and from there it had been an easy slide into black ops, and finally into the blackest ops, where he had become an avatar of the Grim Reaper himself, appearing only to end someone’s life, then disappearing until his country needed someone else snuffed out.

  Then he had begun to suspect that his country, or at least the men who called his shots, were corrupt, using himself and his colleagues to further their own ambitions at the expense of others. Before he could begin look into this, Kramer had called him to the safe house.

  Damn. His life on the Other Side had been over.

  {Over?} Mebd asked. {Why?}

  {Because I couldn’t continue to be an agent for corrupt people,} he replied. {I would have quit. Or more likely, I would have been killed as soon as I began to investigate. In any case, it would have been the end. Perkunas, apparently you and Mebd came just in time.}

  {I see.} Perkunas spoke slowly inside his mind. {Yes, I had heard whispers of the corruption, as well. I suspect that the trail will lead back to this side of the Veil, to my enemies here. They have a tendency to corrupt those who deal with them.}

  {Whether this transition is a coincidence is of no matter, my son,} Mebd said. {You have a life here, and a worthy battle before you. You are able to battle the evils around you on your own terms now, without being twisted to the ends of those more powerful than you.}

  {Says the Goddess who wants me to take her to her temple in Answar.}

  Mebd laughed. {That is more like giving your mother a ride to her doctor than slaying the innocent at the orders of evil men.}

  A commotion in the council chamber brought Bryan out of his internal conversation. Everyone in the room was looking at a newcomer in the doorway. Bryan saw
Ayabis suddenly go pale as a ghost and sway. He caught her before she fell and eased her into a chair.

  “Shimshom Ansitif, Captain of the army of the Empire of Man, at your service,” said the newcomer with a little bow, resplendent in his Imperial uniform. He strolled to the council table and dropped carelessly into a chair.

  “What a surprise,” he murmured to no one in particular. “Queen Ayabis lives! Both King Porvir and my spies were convinced that you must be Wolf poo by now. And you find yourself in such … diverse company. Elves and Centaurs and Wolves. Oh, my.”

  Ayabis looked sick.

  Shimshon smiled secretly at the North Keep Queen’s obvious discomfort.

  She took a deep breath, steadying herself. In a level voice, she said, “I see that my cousin the Emperor has elevated you to Captain. Congratulations.”

  “Most courteous,” acknowledged Shimshon with an amused smile. “It is simply that the promotion was necessary in view of my new responsibilities.”

  Bryan raised his eyebrows, waiting for the man to drop the other shoe he was dangling. Connla burst in. “There are almost three hundred soldiers surrounding the town!” he announced. “They are set in battle order!”

  Aodhan cursed. “How is it that our sentries gave no alarm?”

  Neit turned toward the intruder, ripping his dagger from its sheath.

  The Imperial showed no alarm. In fact, his amusement seemed to grow at the consternation he was causing.

  Connor cleared his throat. “No, lads,” he said. “The good Captain is the guest of the Council. The sentries were told to allow him passage through our lands. There will be no bloodshed today.”

  Bryan nodded. Thump! went that second shoe. Politics, with its thousand shades of gray leading to black. And right there in the middle of the black was Connor. “‘The enemy of my enemy is my friend,’” he quoted. Churchill? Or was the saying older?

  Connor and Shimshon both looked at him. “Exactly,” said Shimshon. “And very well put. It has become clear to His Imperial Highness that Porvir was not, shall we say, the best choice for the post of liaison to King Harald.”

  “And that clarity came when word reached you that the tribute would stop flowing out of North Keep.” Bryan stated his thought flatly.

  The Captain ignored the interruption. “When he betrayed and murdered Harald and his family, it was thought best, in the interests of the Empire, to ignore his lust for power which was possibly encouraged by his wife, and simply accept the situation.”

  Ayabis stiffened in her seat. “Lies!” she spat. “You know very well where my husband got his ideas!”

  “But I have recently received communication from the King reporting rebellion, and also messages from other sources saying that Porvir has neglected his kingly duties. He has failed to protect his kingdom and fulfill his obligations. We also hear that his brutal methods are driving his vassals into rebellion.”

  “D’you think so?” Neit asked impudently, rolling his eyes.

  “We, of course, thought it best to send troops to put down rebellion as well as for protection against . . . outsiders.” Shimshon smiled again as he finished.

  Jerk. “In other words,” said Bryan, “The Empire is worried about receiving its tribute, and you are here to fix that.”

  The Imperial Captain showed his teeth in what might have been yet another smile. “Connor said that you were uncommonly gifted as a statesman as well as a warrior,” said Shimshon. “It is a pleasure to treat with people of such understanding!” He sipped from a tankard of whiskey that he had appropriated. “Yes, however, I have some latitude in how I am to accomplish the Emperor’s goal of continuing to plug the path of those undesirables from the North while maintaining our good relations with the kingdom North Keep. As things stand, if I cannot find a suitable replacement for Porvir I must take his place. A dreary proposition for one such as I, a city dweller who would wither in a backwater such as this. No offense,” he said quickly. “I am sure that it is quite suitable for you who are accustomed to it.”

  Connor spoke. “So if the new King were to prohibit passage of Northerners southward, the Empire would be content.”

  Shimshon pursed his lips. “Of course,” he said, “that, together with the continuation of the tribute, as well as proper disposition of those responsible for this problem.”

  “‘Responsible parties,’” quoted Branna. “Who do you mean? And responsible for what?”

  “King Porvir, Lady Branna,” replied the Imperial officer. “And also his wife, need to be punished, since it is likely their shared ambition and greed that started this whole mess.”

  “I don’t see that happening,” said Bryan. “Queen Ayabis has helped us quite a bit.”

  “In rebellion against her husband?” asked Shimshon. He clucked his tongue ruefully. “In rebellion against the Empire? Either of those is punishable by death.”

  Melthane stepped forward. “Ayabis is under my protection, Captain! If you take her, then I must go as well!”

  The imperial Captain shook his head. “So sorry, Captain Melthane. I’m afraid that your services are no longer needed.” He looked at Connor, who made a reluctant gesture. Two Laignach seized Melthane’s arms and dragged him back.

  “We all need to sit down and speak peacefully,” declared the Council Leader. “Lads, take the Captain to another room so that he can calm down.”

  Bryan looked around. Several more of Connor’s Wolves had materialized in the Council Chamber. His eyes met those of Jwilla, who nudged Tamoth. The Centaur gave a barely perceptible glance toward Bryan in acknowledgement. He had no idea what to do if things became violent, but at least he knew that the pair had his back.

  “What is going on here?” Branna turned toward Connor.

  It was Shimshon who answered. “Lady Branna, we are simply deciding the fate of North Keep and, consequently, the entire North. Right now, it seems we are at a sticking point. The Empire demands blood. Someone must pay for this mess. There is a choice. Either Porvir and Queen Ayabis can pay with their blood, or the entire region will have to pay. And, as your Council Leader suggested, the new King would be left pretty much to govern as he saw fit, so long as the tribute continued.”

  Bryan said, “That’s your plan? That’s why you brought this asshole here?”

  “Of course, if that plan offends your sensibilities, I can depart here and assume my responsibilities as Imperial Governor at North Keep. All of my responsibilities, if you take my meaning.” The Imperial Captain waited for a response.

  Branna looked from Shimshon to Connor, and understanding dawned. The doubts that had nagged at her before only to be brushed aside returned now with greater force. “Why are you doing this, Connor?”

  Connor looked sour but resolute. “It is the only way, my Queen,” he said, “to protect the Clan.”

  Bryan breathed his anger down and said, “There is a story about a fox, a scorpion, and a flood, Connor. Did you ever hear of it? A great flood was coming, and all the animals that could were fleeing to high ground to escape it. A scorpion, who couldn’t go very quickly, asked a fox to carry him. The fox refused, knowing that the scorpion would sting him, but the scorpion pled and pled and promised to control his impulse, so that the fox finally relented and let the scorpion ride on his back as he went. The river was already rising and the fox had to swim for it. The scorpion climbed up to the tip of the fox’s nose. When they were in mid-stream, the scorpion lashed out and stung the fox. The fox cried out, “What have you done? Now I will die of your poison, and you will drown. Why did you sting me after promising not to?” To which the scorpion replied, “It’s my nature. Surely you knew that.”

  “In the version I know, it is a snake,” said Connor.

  “And you invited the snake to come into your house, thinking that by doing that, you could keep some measure of control.” said Bryan. “Do you feel in control now?”

  “This wasn’t about control! I did it to ensure the survival of my clan!” said Co
nnor. “You’re the one who decided to antagonize the Empire by stopping the tribute. If I hadn’t convinced you to wait, these soldiers would already be attacking us. You could have simply Challenged Porvir, as I suggested, and none of this would have been necessary!”

  Bryan turned from Connor to Shimshon, who, seeing Bryan’s face, took a step back, raising his hands defensively. “I am protected by your Council’s promise,” he protested.

  “The Council of Clan Conroight is not mine,” spat Bryan. “I am a guest here, as well as you. Even if I despise you or the decisions of the Council, I respect the Clan’s hospitality. You’re safe. While you’re here.”

  “You will not get very far as King if you kill your Imperial minder,” said the captain sharply. “In fact, if I do not walk out of here with an agreement, this village and Clan Conroight will be the first targets of the Imperial Governor. My lieutenant is with the troops, and his orders are to raze this place to the ground unless I countermand them.”

  “I will go with him,” said Ayabis suddenly, a resolute look coming to her face. She stood smoothly.

  Bryan’s fists bunched. Jwilla caught his arm. “If we fight now, we will all die,” she whispered into his ear. “Look at her; she obviously has some kind of plan. Besides, you can do what you usually do and run off to save her later.”

  {A run mo chroi,} said Mebd, {fight with your head. Force is on the wrong side today.}

  He relaxed marginally, barely suppressing the growl that formed in his chest.

  Shimshon gloated quietly. “So, it is arranged. I will share the unfortunate news of his demotion and arrest with the former King after he inaugurates the Festival. Be there by midday, and I will explain your duties toward the Empire, King Bryan.” He laid ironic emphasis on the last two words and walked out with his prisoner.