Some Sort of Glitch

by Wade Adrian

  "Don't know. Can't see."

  "Kind of regretting putting Einar on that."

  "Eira will get it done, even if she has to drag the kid."

  Tom leaned back in his saddle.

  They had a bit of an escort, a handful of troops lower on the hill. They weren't allowed to run about alone. They were probably out of earshot, though.

  "You're not trying to hit that?"

  Max narrowed his eyes. "I do have some greater concerns."

  "I know. Just saying. I would. The whole Yar thing seems off putting to these people, though. If it's not about fighting or taking a fort, I can't get the time of day out of them."

  "Lucky you."

  "Oh, wait. That's right, I almost forgot about the princess. Tovi, right?"

  Max sighed.

  "I get it. She'd get mad. Good call." He nodded a few times. "Eira is definitely a step down from royalty. Not that she doesn't have her charms. Got that woodsy ranger vibe going on. Very nice."

  "This is why I don't talk to you about things like this."

  "Who else can you talk to, hmm?" Tom leaned a bit closer. "No worries. We'll get somewhere people don't hate Yar, or don't know her, and then I won't have to live vicariously through you."

  "Won't that be nice for everyone."

  "Today is not that day, sir. Setting aside the whole Yar thing, what are my odds?"

  Max shook his head. "Eira is Tovi's retainer. Her right hand. She is only interested in being that. If it's good for Tovi, she likes it. If it isn't, she hates it."

  "Well, I'm out here fulfilling this silly quest. Good for Tovi, right?"

  "For Brynjar. And Einar. Tovi last."

  "Hmph." Tom crossed his arms. The birds were circling back. "We'll see how that goes."

  Only one bird flew back to Max, the rest scattered into the trees again.

  Skip, he supposed, cawed a few times, flitted around, cawed a few more times... yeah he could see that getting annoying pretty quickly.

  Max dismounted from his horse. "Hold on a second." He pulled the map from where it was tucked into Tom's saddle bags and knelt in the dirt, glancing at the map and drawing the shape of the fort. "Okay, where?"

  The bird looked down at the drawing, tilting its head back and forth before hopping and scratching at a spot with its feet.

  It cawed.

  Max nodded. "They keep their food stores there." He pointed at the bird. "Though they likely have some food elsewhere which will sustain them for a bit. Point is, we hit that spot and we'll be set up for phase two."

  "Groovy."

  A different bird landed beside the first in a huff of feathers. It cawed its little head off staring up at Max.

  "Alright, alright. Don't yell." He shook his head. "Seems like Eira has made some progress."

  "You mean Einar, right?"

  "You know I don't."

  Tom nodded sagely. "I know." He pointed at the bird. "Is that one Sombra?"

  "Sure, why not?"

  "Awesome. Good work, Sombra. Give it some seeds or something." Tom turned his horse around. "Then let's go have a look."

  The sun was setting when they lined up their archers in the shadow of the turtle. It was their best chance to avoid notice... until they wanted it.

  Tom shaded his eyes. The bright light peeking over the top made the wall seem almost black. "Okay people, we've only got so many arrows. Make them count." He pointed at a single raised stone merlon on top of the wall. "Aim just over that one. Should get you close."

  All of his troops had come with a bow strapped to their horse, though none of them looked much like professional archers. They'd also only brought a few arrows each.

  Tom had held a bit of an impromptu annex course on fletching to shore the numbers up. They didn't need amazing arrows, just straight ones. Even a cleric could manage that... about three out of ten times, apparently.

  Other people had done better, and much faster. He'd been trying to soothe his pride for hours.

  Max knelt down and struck a dagger against his flint stone. The little fire pit they had prepared sprang to life.

  All of Tom's people were here, and all of them with a bow. Thirty bowmen. Thirty one with Max, though his skills were pretty pathetic. If he lobbed an arrow over the damned wall Tom would be ecstatic.

  As the commander, Tom was the only one on horseback. The plan called for making a show, but hiding their numbers. Implying they had thirty archers was fine and well, but implying they had thirty archers and thirty light cavalry would put a lot more fear into the defenders.

  One by one the soldiers lit the arrows they held at the ready, waiting for the signal to fire.

  Tom held a hand up.

  A flag atop the wall flapped about. It was little more than a tattered rag, showing this place was held by bandits... but it was a handy way to keep tabs on the wind.

  When the flag fell limp he swept his hand forward.

  Thirty flaming arrows flew into the sky... over the course of about five seconds.

  These losers needed to work on their discipline.

  Less than half of the arrows made it over the wall.

  Less than half of those were even near the right spot.

  Tom sighed.

  If he was still a ranger this place would be on fire by now.

  But he wasn't.

  Right now he was a commander. "Okay, good attempt. Good... hustle. Rearm." He glanced down at Max. "We get it?"

  Max stood with his eyes shut, the crow skull in hand. His head swayed back and forth for a moment... "No. We missed."

  Tom grunted. "Figures." He held his hand high again, watching the little flag.

  Most of the second volley sailed way too high... people trying to avoid hitting the wall. Unfortunately that high up the wind caught them anyway, sending them far off course. One landed outside the walls, setting a grass fire.

  Tom tried not to get angry...

  "Again."

  Bandits were appearing at the top of the walls.

  About time. Slackers.

  Tom swept his hand, signaling the third volley.

  That set did a lot better. Most of them made it over at a decent height, but the spread was still too wide.

  "Got it." Max nodded, his eyes shut. "But it didn't catch."

  "Son of a bitch." He looked back over his shoulder. "Fire at will. You know the spot. Watch the flag up there for wind. Shoot when it's still. If you hit a bandit off the wall I'll put you in for a promotion."

  Arrows flew, bow strings twanging left and right.

  Max wasn't bothering. He was doing his bird thing.

  Smoke climbed up over the wall.

  Well, they'd set something on fire. That was fun.

  Tom stared up at the wall. A handful of bandits were scurrying about, not sure what to do.

  He knew how they felt.

  It wasn't working.

  Max muttered something.

  Tom glanced down to find the rogue kneeling, his lips moving as he spoke gibberish, eyes shut tight.

  The bow strings fell silent as the arrows ran out.

  Tom could hear voices inside. They were panicking.

  Max stood up, a foot kicking dirt on the little fire. "It's burning."

  "Hah!" Tom waved. "Head to the trees, get ready to move out. Phase two begins now."

  The soldiers ran for cover. The time for being seen was done.

  Skip flitted down to land on Max's outstretched hand.

  The bird was always black, but he looked a bit... singed?

  Max held out a palm full of the seeds he had gathered. "Good job."

  Tom watched his inept archers fade into the trees, then glanced up at the walls. Smoke billowed over the top.

  "You did it."

  Max patted the crow on the head. "Hmm?"

  "You set the fire. You and the bird."

  "Skip. Though when I'm in control he's mostly a passenger. Grabbed some burning thatch from a different roof, dropped it on the right one." He held his
palm up a bit, the bird adjusting to keep at the seeds. "He seems to accept my apology."

  Tom started his horse forward. Max had to walk at a decent pace to keep up.

  The cleric scoffed. "These people are useless without us."

  "It is a fortress. Designed to withstand thousands of troops."

  "Yet it falls to one pyromaniac bird."

  "Nobody planned for that."

  Skip finished his meal, taking to the sky.

  Tom gave the bird a little salute. "Say thanks to your bird god for me."

  "I would rather not."

  They rounded up the horses and made a show of not making a show of parading them outside the walls, keeping them poorly hidden in trees visible from the walls. It might have been for nothing. Tom didn't notice anyone on top of the walls.

  Well, they did have a few other matters to attend.

  Jerks.

  Maybe burning the place down was intimidating enough?

  Hmm. He still wanted his victory lap.

  Oh well, phase two was yet to come.

  The boat Eira had... secured was actually pretty big. More of a barge, but whatever.

  Max sat on the deck, his back to one of a dozen or so barrels.

  It was dark. They had fires going for the night but they were all behind him on shore. He stared out at the black sea to the north.

  Stars played overhead. The occasional aurora, too.

  Pretty.

  Fortunately the birds seemed to find better places to be at night. Then again, they were black, so maybe he just couldn't see them...

  He was exhausted. It had been a long day, but even before that the lack of sleep was starting to be a problem.

  Corvi had lied, or at least miscalculated. She couldn't speak with him all the time yet, but she seemed to have no trouble finding him when he slept.

  Simple solution, really.

  Not a good solution, but a simple one.

  It wasn't easy, either. He had yet to find a coffee shop. The cold air off the water would have to serve.

  And yet everyone seemed happy with him. The birds had been a great help today. He'd been afraid of that. They were Corvi's. Using them was bound to strengthen her silly bond, and now everyone wanted that.

  Everyone but him.

  He rubbed at his temples.

  Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

  "Hey."

  Max almost jumped, his feet scraping against the deck boards.

  Eira was lit from behind, sitting on top of one of the barrels. "You okay?"

  She was entirely too close. He scooted a few inches away. "I'm fine."

  "You don't look fine. You look like hell."

  "How appropriate."

  She slid off the barrel, sitting on the deck.

  He scooted a few more inches away.

  "Quit it." She held out her hand. "Give me your pendant."

  "My what?"

  "Your skull."

  "I'm kind of using it to hold my brain. And eyes."

  She narrowed her eyes at him. "Give me the crow skull, idiot."

  "Why? It's mine. I need it for this."

  She nodded. "I know. I'll give it back in the morning. But you need to sleep."

  Oh... that might work. But... "Why would you help me avoid her? Won't she be angry?"

  "Maybe, but she'll be livid if you fall off the boat and drown, or get into a fight only to get run through by some random bandit."

  "I... guess." He lifted the leather string up over his head, holding it out.

  Eira took it with both hands and a bowed head. Practically reverence. "I'll keep it safe."

  "Thanks." He nodded. "And umm..." He waved his hands, shooing her away. "Nothing personal."

  A small smile appeared on her face as she moved in close to kiss him on the forehead. "Nothing to worry about." She stood, hanging the skull beside her own. "Sleep by the fire. I'll watch the boat."

  He nodded a few times.

  That made sense.

  Sleep made all kinds of sense.

  He almost fell off the gangplank, the boat shifting with the moving water.

  Eira steadied him.

  A distant voice echoed somewhere off behind her.

  "Sweet dreams, dear."

  Max shivered.

  Tom sat on a barrel in the early morning light. Most everyone was still asleep. He'd given orders to let them lie for now, continuing the watch rotations.

  They were far enough away along the coast that he couldn't see the turtle, but he knew it was there. The hilly country meant they weren't more than an hour or so out by boat but they were completely out of sight.

  He would almost swear he could still see smoke... but that was unlikely. The turtle was made of stone. Even if every bit of thatch or wood shingle had burned away it would have calmed down overnight.

  Patience was key here. They were running a bluff, but it required a believable amount of time...

  Patience was not his strong suit. Never had been.

  He sat watching the direction he knew the turtle was in, spinning his mace by rolling the handle back and forth between his hands.

  Max was sleeping like a dead log with the other troops. Tom had given orders to leave him be. Everyone seemed fine with that, given how useful him and his little bird army had been.

  It was good that he was resting. He'd been getting by on short naps for the last day or two. Hopefully his little mental breakdown was over. Tom hadn't had time to factor that into his battle plans.

  But he could sort of relate. Yar hadn't been the easiest thing to get used to either.

  He... might be a bit worried about her now, though. He hadn't seen so much as a crazy strand of hair since they'd left Brynjar's castle days before.

  Not that she wasn't capable. Hell, the other gods hated her for something. That spoke to her not really needing him to worry. Whatever she was up to, she was probably just fine.

  Still...

  He shook his head. Better things to do with his time than worry about the god of madness. It was crazy to bother.

  He chuckled to himself.

  Max would get it... if he wasn't unconscious.

  Crows had begun to gather, fluttering around the campsite. They poked at unattended food but made themselves scarce when anyone approached.

  Quite a few of them were huddled around Max, watching him sleep...

  Yeah, Tom could see why Max wasn't super thrilled with the arrangement. That shit was just creepy. Alfred Hitchcock presents levels of creepy.

  The number of soldiers up and about was ever increasing, but only one was off by himself swinging a sword.

  Einar was already dressed to the nines, armor and all. It was entirely obvious the armor was a new thing since he had trouble swinging the sword without being thrown off balance.

  The armor wasn't even that heavy. Maybe the sword was new, too.

  Tom hopped down from his barrel and shouldered his mace.

  He had some time to kill.

  "What's the score, killer?"

  Einar kept his focus, sword high before swinging it low. "You mock me, but I will keep working. I will get stronger. Then you won't mock me anymore."

  "Wow, you've got a lot of faith in me if you think I'm that bright. I've picked all kinds of stupid fights in my day. 'He should have known better' will be on my tombstone."

  Einar lowered his sword for a moment. "Yet you remain. You must be quite skilled." He took another practice stab at the empty air. "Or lucky."

  "Helps to have solid friends."

  Einar scoffed. "I won't be converting to your dark god."

  "Actually I meant Talren that time."

  The boy bit off a short laugh. "I don't care for his god either."

  "Umbra, or the local bird one?"

  "Either."

  Tom nodded. "Probably smart. Which is your god?"

  He paused for a moment. "Father would have me say Boran."

  "Somehow I get the impression you wouldn't."

&n
bsp; "No." He resumed his practice swings.

  Activity in the camp had kept rising, nearly everyone was up now. Food would get going before long. The day was soon to begin in earnest.

  Besides, it didn't seem like a topic the kid was interested in expanding upon.

  "Believe in whatever you like. I'm just saying, end of the day, a real friend at your side beats all the flaky gods in the sky. I had Talren with me before Yar, before Corvi and her birds. I'm sure he'll be there after. And knowing that, I can focus ahead, because I know he's got my back." Tom turned and started for the camp. "You can't look everywhere yourself. Something a king would be wise to learn."

  Einar paused his swings.

  "Come on." Tom waved for the boy to follow. "Breakfast. You'll need your strength for the dumb shit we're going to pull today, because we should really know better. Also you're probably going to hate the next part."

  20

  The boat was mostly operated by poles. It had a sail, but they had that tied up. The last thing they wanted right now was to go on a sea adventure.

  Operating the pole to move the boat wasn't quite the cake walk Tom had assumed it would be. Fortunately the other four guys wielding them seemed to be better at it, or quicker studies. Half a dozen more men were lounging about the boat or keeping the barrels together.

  All of them were dressed in clothing they'd taken from the last fort, the Ladder. Tom's mustard yellow scarf stank of stale beer. Apparently its former owner had a hole in his lip. It was a tad distracting.

  Another scarf hung from the mast. Tom wanted those inside the Turtle to know who was coming.

  Most of the docks behind the Turtle had fallen into disrepair, the bandits apparently preferring to only use those closest to the fort while the rest rotted.

  Tom and his men, mostly his men, moved their ship in close and tied it off.

  Close enough to get shot, but they weren't going to make any friends from the river.

  Tom laid his pole down on the boat and hopped onto the dock.

  The rear gate of the Turtle was shut tight, but that was to be expected.

  He made no move to hide himself, even going so far as to wave his hands over his head as he approached. "Hello the fort!"

  His clothing was various shades of brown, down to his crappy bits of leather armor. It was what these losers wore. Of course, he had his chain shirt under it all, hidden away.