by Wade Adrian
The man nodded repeatedly. "As you say, my lord."
Tom sighed.
He'd kinda wanted to throw them in the pit anyway.
25
Tom grumbled a bit as he rode behind his troops. They had a small collection of prisoners moving in their midst, relieved of weapons and armor, but with plenty of weapons pointed at them. Not many had survived the fight, just their three riders and three more foot soldiers. Six of their fifteen.
He would have beaten them all, if they hadn't surrendered like a bunch of cowards.
Clearly not every culture in this part of the world was as big on victory or death as his own soldiers. And the bandits, but those guys were locals. Probably instilled in them as children.
Kindergarten fight club.
Respectable.
Probably fun to watch, too.
Birds were waiting on the bridge when the line of troops got there. Only a little creepy. His people had had plenty of time to get used to it. The former defenders flinched when the birds leaned in to caw at them, though.
It was pretty fun.
Tom waved to the copse of trees where Max was waiting. Plenty safe to move in now.
The soldiers at the front picked up an unconscious guard lying on the bridge and dragged him along.
Max waved from just inside. "Hey."
Tom turned in his saddle, looking at the line of trees where Max was supposed to be waiting. "What are you doing in here?"
Max pointed at the unconscious guy as the soldiers drug him past. "Couldn't let them close the gate."
Tom let out a huff. "Are you implying my plan was not perfect in every way?"
"No. I would never do that. I just clean up the messes."
"Well... as long as you don't say it out loud." Tom nodded.
Movement further in caught his eye.
There were... people inside? They were not armed or armored, though.
He frowned. "What's all this then?"
Max shrugged. "Support personnel, I think. Probably cooks, stable boys, the like. Maybe a few real pilgrims. More up stairs. Probably need to round them up before they start a fire or something."
"Huh." Tom tilted his head. "What do we do with them after that?"
"I dunno. You're the one with the infallible plans."
He sighed. "Okay... yeah." He pointed at a few soldiers to his left. "Go up stairs, do a thorough search. Don't harm anyone, but we need them rounded up so they don't knife us in our sleep."
They saluted and started for the stairs, and they kept their weapons sheathed. Good men.
He pointed at another batch to his right. "You find somewhere to keep the ones we already have. Four walls, one door, no windows or really high ones that are small and can't be wiggled through."
They spread out on the main floor, eying the structures.
He pointed at Eira and the scouts. "Go get the horses and equipment we stashed, would you?"
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Why tell them but ask us?"
He shrugged. "It feels more like you answer to Talren? Just trying not to step on any toes."
She rolled her eyes, but waved for the scouts to follow as she started back out the gate.
The bridge played its annoying little song again.
Hopefully that had some sort of off switch... otherwise he was going to sleep as high up in the tower as he could.
It only took a few minutes for things to get organized. The gate had a pair of guards, one right beside the portcullis lever.
Max had wandered up to double check for stragglers. Stealth would no doubt be a handy thing to have.
The former defenders and their retinue were placed into an old storehouse. That whole mess was a bag of snakes. He had no idea what Brynjar would want done with them. Tossing them off the bridge would probably make for upset neighbors, even if they were not here on official business, but letting them go might throw away a bargaining chip Brynjar could use.
"Einar." Tom glanced around as he raised his voice. "Einar?"
The boy appeared a few moments later. He had been helping arrange the goods from the storehouse into a less prison-worthy building.
Manual labor? Huh.
Odd for a king's son.
"Yes?" Einar stopped in front of Tom, his arms crossed.
Tom pointed at the storehouse. "Technically this is your dog and pony show. What do we do with them?"
Einar glanced at the storehouse, then at Tom. "You don't want responsibility for this."
"Which is convenient, because it's not my responsibility. It's yours. I don't want to start a war by harming them, but I also don't want to waste any opportunities having them might give your dad."
Einar rubbed at his chin. "I say let them go."
"Brynjar would do that?"
"Doubtful. But he isn't here."
Tom gave the boy a level stare. "You'll have to answer to Brynjar, no matter what you do here. Why do something he wont like?" Tom shook his head. "Maybe we'll parade them along behind us. Slow us down, sure, but..." He shrugged.
"We have another fort to take. We can't be escorting prisoners. Who can we spare to watch them? Even without weapons they're a threat unless we leave as many people as we have prisoners. But like you said, killing them would make bad blood for no reason."
Tom rubbed at the back of his neck. "Can't say I like just letting them go."
Einar shrugged. "Then let the defenders they send to hold this place figure it out."
"Pass the buck? That's kind of a shitty thing to do."
"Not uncommon, though."
Tom scoffed.
Kid wasn't wrong.
"I'll think it over. They're fine for now. Go back to what you were doing. Sorry to interrupt."
Einar gave a nod and went straight back to helping move barrels and crates.
Weird kid. He could easily sit on the sidelines and tell them to do it for him. He had the blood and the fancy getup.
Max appeared on the stairs. "This place is too damned tall."
Tom gave him a nod. "All clear?"
"If it's not, they're a lot sneakier than me." He hooked a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the stairs. "Soldiers slept on two. Most of their stuff is still lying around from when they got the order to move out. Three is a bit more sparse, but nicer stuff. Probably the head guys. Four and up is largely abandoned right up to the roof. Most of it is local furniture and the like. Lots of dust."
Tom tugged on his beard. "My my, resting in decent lodgings? What could that possibly be like? You know, I don't think I've slept in a bed meant for anyone more prestigious than a guard since we ended up in here."
Max shrugged. "I did. Silk. Pillows. Lots of furs, but these people are big on furs."
Tom narrowed his eyes. "That's right. You did. I am suddenly inspired to put you on an overnight guard shift."
"If you can find me, sure. But I can almost guarantee you wont, and the scouts like me better."
"Rude. And disrespectful to your commanding officer."
"I haven't said a single disrespectful word to Einar."
Tom sighed. "Low blow. My poor pride." He gave his beard a tug. "Just for that... when are you planning to send the all clear message back to Brynjar?"
Max's shoulders slumped a bit. "It's early, send a rider."
"Riders are so much slower, though." Tom shrugged, his hands wide in a helpless gesture. "If you get it done fast enough, they could be here tonight. Give our people a solid chance to rest up before moving out in the morning for their last assignment."
"You're a dickhead."
"Am I wrong?"
Max rolled his eyes. "No. But you also don't understand what that entails."
"Sounds like a fun group activity, then. The boys have this handled."
Max sighed. "Yeah, okay, fine."
Tom had the little fire on top of the tower burning about as bright as it was going to get. The whole of the top was receded, kind of a bowl with stairs around the edges under the par
apets. It kept a bit of the wind at bay, at least enough to let the fire survive. The fire pit had a hook for a cooking pot, and there was enough wood for a day or two under an old tarp.
According to Max this was going to take awhile, so he'd grabbed a little kettle, a few metal cups, and a box of... some sort of tea on the way up. There was plenty of snow around to pack into it.
Max was of the opinion that Tom probably wouldn't wait it out, so Tom was game to prove him wrong. Besides, it was nice and quite up here.
The rogue was busying himself with getting an old canvas roof thing deployed. It made some rather concerning noises as the rusty metal contraption stretched out from the wall, providing a bit of shade.
"If you get tetanus, I'm letting you have lockjaw."
"You can go whenever you like." Max grunted as he yanked on the contraption again. It didn't budge. "I'm going to be up here for hours. If it starts raining, or snowing, I don't want to be in it."
"What, I can't just slap you a few times to wake you up?"
"You probably can, but I'd lose control and your message wouldn't make it."
Tom glanced up at the sky. He could see a hell of a lot of it from up there. Not many clouds, though. "I think you'll be fine."
Max laid out his sleeping roll and blankets before sitting on top of them. "Easy for the guy who can leave to say."
"Is whining part of the process? That's all I'm seeing so far."
"Charming, really."
"I can be." Tom crossed his arms. "Maybe I'm still a tad bitter I had to sleep in a freezing cell on a pile of straw when you were in a noble's bed of silks with a princess."
"You think that was my idea?"
Tom tilted his head. "It wasn't? Wait, no. This is you we're talking about. Of course it wasn't." He nodded a few times. "Oh man, she played you."
"What?"
"Your new name is fiddle, because you got played, boy."
"I'm not sure you're speaking a functional language anymore." Max returned to his preparations.
Tom smiled. "She needed you to do a job. After the whole deal with the first bandit fort, she heard a competent assassin was just sitting in her jail, so she had him brought up. What did she offer you?"
"I dunno. Money?"
"And you turned it down, because you hate money."
"I don't hate money."
Tom chuckled. "Always seemed like it to me. 'Why yes, friend farmer, I've slain all the dire weasels, but I require no reward for my daring-do!' So, money wasn't going to work because she got the one crazy assassin that isn't about money. So what then, a sob story?"
"... shut up. I'm trying to concentrate here."
"Uh-huh." Tom grinned. "That probably worked better. But you must not have seemed very keen, which I can't imagine you were getting a hit list of perfectly decent folk, so she found another way to seal the deal."
Max scowled. "Are you done?"
"So goddamn played. Not that it didn't work out for her, I mean, she bedded an assassin to get her hooks into him, and she ended up with Sir Lancelot. No doubt the girl was pleasantly surprised."
The trap door to the floor below opened a bit. Eira's eyes peeked out. "Oh, you are up here." She lifted the door and climbed out, looking things over. "All our horses and supplies are within the walls. I had new orders to come up here?"
Max shrugged. "Yeah, sorry." He patted the spot next to him on the blankets. "Time to send a message."
She frowned. "That isn't less dangerous in daylight, you know."
Tom's eyebrow crept up. "Say what?"
"He didn't tell you?"
"No... but he seems to be quite secretive of late."
She shook her head. "Controlling a beast in this manner is tantamount to placing his mind inside it. If he makes a mistake he could end up trapped there. And that's the good option. There's no telling what will happen if his mind is in a beast and another one kills it."
Tom sat up straighter. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that." He didn't want to be trapped in here alone. Max the crow was no better than Max the corpse... not on his end.
Max shrugged and grabbed hold of his crow skull pendant. "Still faster, isn't it?"
A crow flitted down onto the stone roof, landing in front of Max. It looked around, taking things in, before settling in front of him and cawing.
Max leaned forward to wrap a bit of paper around the crow's leg, then tied a string to keep it tight.
The bird seemed interested for a few moments, but got over it when a bribe in the form of a small pile of seed was provided.
Tom shook his head. "Hold on, I didn't know this was that level of dangerous."
Eira nodded. "It is best avoided."
The bird's head lifted slightly before it tilted back and forth.
Max leaned forward, muttering something under his breath.
The bird turned, looking at Tom.
He narrowed his eyes at it. "What do you want, Poly?"
The bird leapt at him, sharp talons first as it let out a loud "Caw!"
Tom ducked to avoid the stupid thing...
But it had never really gotten close. It had taken to the sky, heading up, not at him.
He scowled at the bird. "Oh, ha ha. Very funny." He had to yell after it.
Max probably couldn't hear him anymore.
Tom sighed. "Idiot."
Eira sat beside Max. "Does he do this a lot?"
"Throw himself on landmines for other people? Yes. It's his hobby."
She seemed confused. "Mines are always in land. That's what a mine is."
Tom rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "I meant... taking on trouble for other people."
She nodded. "Yes, he does seem to do that."
"I'd prefer he put some more thought into it. He's supposed to be commanding, not needlessly risking himself. The hell am I going to do without him?"
"I suppose he thinks it is necessary, then."
Tom scowled. "Don't defend him. He doesn't deserve it. I'm mad at him."
Eira looped her arm under Max's.
"Don't jostle him, woman. I don't want him to end up eating grubs for the rest of his life."
"I'm helping. I am lending my connection to mother."
"Oh." Tom nodded. "Well then, by all means, help."
Eira leaned against Max, her head on his shoulder and her eyes shut.
Tom's face twisted with irritation.
It just wasn't fair.
He climbed to his feet and wandered to the wall. Sitting there staring wasn't going to help. He could barely make out the black bird flitting away on the wind.
This was definitely faster. No argument to be made.
Max had better not mess this up.
He didn't want a pet bird.
Max spread his wings wide, the wind carrying him aloft.
This was much better during the day.
It seemed like the entire world was spread out before him. He could see rivers and roads stretching off to distant mountains, forests and rocky hills breaking up the sheet of white. Snow everywhere.
Thin clouds were still well overhead, but the sun was warm and friendly... if a tad bright.
It was easier this time. He didn't know if it was experience after last time, or being able to see so much better, or something else entirely.
It wasn't quite second nature, still learning to ride the proverbial bike, but he wasn't wobbling nearly as much.
"You seem quite the old hand at this, dear."
And suddenly all of this was less fun.
"Don't be crass."
Hmph.
A beautiful world stretched out before him, freedom of the open sky... not even Corvi could ruin his mood.
"Your friend is quite astute."
Unfortunately she seemed determined to try.
"You can speak, you know. Give it a try."
He was certain it would come out as "Caw!" but he tried nonetheless.
"Maybe I don't want to talk."
It had sounded rat
her... not like his voice. It was Skip's voice.
"But we get so very little time alone."
"Thats by design." He spread his wings wide, catching an updraft. "Haven't you got better things to do than listen to my conversations?"
"Do you legitimately think anyone in this land is doing more for me right now than you are?"
Huh. That was fair.
Still, rude.
"My astute friend failed to consider you."
"Oh?" Her voice sounded amused.
"You wanted us out here, doing this. You want Tovi in charge of that castle, but I've seen how little control Brynjar has of the rest of his territory. Putting Tovi in his chair wouldn't change much without us."
"Of course, dear. After you're done, order will be restored. I don't deny I have a vested interest in that order. It certainly benefits me."
"So you wanted to make sure we would do it, but you couldn't talk to Tom. He's in league with Yar, after all."
Corvi's voice was chilly. "That name is not to be spoken, even by a crow."
"Fine. Doesn't change anything. You couldn't get him on board, so you settled for me. And you threw your daughter at me to do it. Despicable."
"Is that what you think?"
"The whole night was... strange. But the more I think about it, the easier it is to see where you influenced her."
"Oh, I don't deny that." Corvi's amusement returned. "She was perplexed when you refused money, just as your friend said. She considered what else she could offer, when the thought of offering herself flitted across the back of her mind. Not a serious thought, more of a flight of fancy.
"But she latched onto it, in no small part because she found herself attracted to you. Thoughts of having you right then and there flooded the poor girl's mind. Lonely, friendless and no one to confide in in the whole of the castle, save for a few hand maidens. Such desires are not strange, dear. She's at that age.
Corvi sighed. "So yes, I spoke to her. I agreed with her deep rooted desires. I whispered that she should take what she wanted. And that she might enjoy the mead. It calmed her nerves."
Max tried to hold his concentration, but it wasn't easy when she was going on about how terrible she was.
"And yet, while I find I am quite fond of you, you have a very inflated opinion of yourself, my dear. I didn't know you then as I know you now. And even now, I would not give my lovely daughter away as a prize. You are a fool to even entertain the notion.