Some Sort of Glitch

by Wade Adrian

  He grabbed the wrapped idol, standing it upright on the wall.

  The new voice scratched at his mind. "You are a fool! I will destroy you! No one can protect you from my wrath! Not Boran, not your raven queen, not your walls, and no laws of man! Your death will be slow and painful! I shall feast-"

  The voice was no doubt trying to sound imposing.

  Max was too tired to give a shit.

  "Bite me."

  He kicked the idol over the side, holding tight to the banner.

  The wooden idol fell, tumbling end over end.

  It struck the stone wall of the building on the way down, splitting into large and heavy chunks which fell down onto the group of defenders who were looking up at Max.

  They made way.

  He could see the shattered wooden statue was in a few dozen pieces.

  Huh. Thing has been hollow and it was still that heavy? Oak or something. Yeesh.

  It was also entirely possible he was exhausted. That made sense too.

  Just in case that little display didn't hold enough sway, he drug the banner over to the brazier and caught a corner on fire before tossing it over the side, too.

  It floated down much more slowly, burning all the while. It's scraps were still recognizable on the ground.

  The defenders below seemed confused. Some dropped their weapons, most milled around, yelling at each other.

  He could still see probably twice their number standing, but their desire to fight seemed to have faded.

  "You silenced their god." Corvi laughed like a delighted child. "So brazen."

  "It was more meant to show that I kicked Dave's butt."

  "Your intentions are irrelevant, dear. The voice of Mehtan has gone silent in this place. They are isolated and leaderless in a hostile land. They will be easy to defeat."

  "Animals are most dangerous when cornered."

  "Are they but animals to you?" Her voice seemed... amused.

  The gates opened, many of the defenders fleeing into the night. Most of the fighting died down, but a few pockets remained. Tom's line was still keeping people from encroaching, but some of that seemed to be about not letting them get too close to the wounded.

  Tom's voice echoed above the others. "What? They're running? Shameful display!"

  Plenty of defenders were milling back down the stairs, but he spotted one fight going yet. It only looked to be a handful of people.

  Stragglers. Maybe a bit more resilient... or just unaware of the change in command.

  Tom was tending to his wounded, his people holding the line.

  Max sighed as he started that way. He'd left his estoc, so he drew his daggers.

  He was going to need a vacation after this nonsense.

  31

  Max dropped into stealth as he landed on the bridge on the opposite side to the one he'd used to enter the building.

  He winced as he took a step forward. His leg seemed to be of the opinion he should stop for the night. Dropping two stories was probably a bad idea. He hadn't realized he'd taken so much damage.

  Head wounds will do that.

  He sighed.

  Just one more fight. Then he'd let Tom handle things.

  The scuffle was taking place near the end of the bridge, one man in blue gear against a defender straggler.

  It looked like he had taken down a few other stragglers on his own.

  Their people were no slouches, especially not after taking three other forts. The guy looked to be doing okay, though he was backed against a shut door and looked to be limping, too. His health was well below half.

  Max moved as quickly as he could, almost dragging one foot.

  Fuck this fort.

  It was a bit strange... the guy was fighting a defender swinging daggers. The first dagger wielder Max had seen. Most of them seemed to be sword and board types. Of course, it made sense that they would field some lighter fighting types. Scouts and the like.

  Max readied his daggers as he drew close.

  The guy in blue grunted, keeping his shield between him and the daggers. "Did you think this would work? Did you think no one would notice?"

  Max blinked.

  That was Einar's voice.

  How had he gotten down here alone?

  While Einar was talking the daggers kept falling. He kept his shield in front of them... for the most part.

  He grunted and dropped to one knee on the bridge.

  The attacker swept both daggers in front of them, catching Einar's shield and tossing it off the side of the bridge.

  Max scowled.

  They had lost enough people today.

  He ground his teeth as he hobbled over as quickly as he could. He twisted his own daggers, sinking one into the attacker's back.

  A yelp escaped as the attacker turned, a dagger flying at Max.

  He drove his second dagger home, even as he pressed in close to catch the attacker's arm against his shoulder, the dagger safely behind him.

  He stood there for a moment, eye to eye with Eira.

  Her left eye twitched a bit.

  He heard a dagger hit the stones behind him.

  Her hand moved to touch his cheek... before it fell limp.

  He could barely breathe.

  "No... no no no!"

  He wrapped his arms around her, keeping her from hitting the ground.

  "Tom! Tom where the hell are you?"

  It took a few moments, but Tom appeared on the wall above, well off to Max's left. "What?"

  "Get the fuck down here!"

  Tom blinked a few times. "Right."

  Einar groaned.

  Max didn't want to let go of Eira. He kept her close to him. "Einar," his voice cracked, "are you alright?"

  The boy didn't answer.

  Max's leg gave out.

  He sat on the stone bridge, still holding Eira close.

  Einar was lying on his side.

  Max turned, trying to get his back against the side of the bridge.

  His hand hit the dagger Eira had dropped. He picked it up gently. She would need it when she got better.

  It's blade had a familiar sickly green color to it.

  Shit.

  "Agh!"

  Max looked up to see Tom hanging down from the top of the wall, his feet dangling. A few soldiers had a hold of his hands.

  "Ah, this is going to suck..." Tom let out a sigh as he let go. He landed with a thud, but he was on his feet. His head swept back and forth as he surveyed the remnants of the fight. "Fuck."

  A few of the soldiers up top were starting to climb over.

  Max pointed at them. "No one else. Not yet." His voice cracked.

  Tom's eyebrow crept up, but he held up his hands to the sides of his mouth. "We've got this, keep a watch up there for now." He stepped around fallen defenders to kneel beside Max, his hands already glowing with golden light. "Nearly tapped out here, but I've got enough. You look like shit." His hand moved to pull the girl away from Max...

  "Eira." Max's voice caught.

  Tom's head tilted slightly. "What about her?"

  "Heal her." He shifted a bit so Tom could see her face.

  His eyes widened. "Shit." He laid his glowing hand on her.

  The light faded away from Tom's hand but didn't touch Eira.

  Tom pursed his lips and tried again.

  Nothing.

  Max found it hard to open his eyes.

  "I, uh... I'm sorry."

  "Einar." Max croaked.

  "Einar?"

  Max pointed... roughly the right way. It was hard to see.

  "Son of a bitch."

  Tom had found him, then.

  Good.

  Max didn't feel much like helping.

  Not that he could.

  He was completely useless.

  All he could do was kill.

  Even people he cared about.

  He watched with blurry eyes as Tom summoned more golden light and hurled it at the boy. "Come on, kid. This isn't break time
."

  He didn't stir that Max could see.

  Tom repeated the gesture.

  Max gently set Eira aside, sitting her up against the wall... and shut her eyes.

  He could barely open his own. "Einar?"

  Tom glanced back over his shoulder at Max. His eyes dropped a bit before he shook his head. "No."

  Why?

  Why would she do this? Why-

  Tovi.

  Tovi wanted Einar dead. He'd almost forgotten, given that he had never intended to go through with it, at least not if Einar didn't deserve it.

  And he didn't.

  That hadn't mattered to Eira. Tovi was all that mattered.

  He grabbed hold of the stupid crow skull hanging around his neck. "So was I the first assassin, or the second?" He pulled it off over his head. "Never mind, I don't fucking care anymore."

  He threw the skull as hard as he could.

  It sailed down into the fort below.

  Tom sat on top of a barrel in the courtyard as the first light of day appeared.

  Watch rotation or not, no one had gotten much sleep that night.

  They had lost ten people, including Einar and Eira.

  A small price for taking a fort, and for killing twenty eight assholes, sure, but... it didn't feel that way.

  It felt like a solid loss.

  There were thirty five "defenders" still standing. Prisoners now. They were locked up in the main building in any rooms they could find that needed a key and didn't have a window.

  Most seemed pretty cowed. Whatever Max had smashed had been a pretty big hit to their egos.

  Just looked like a bunch of pieces of junk to Tom.

  He kicked one.

  Cowed or not, every locked door had a guard, too. There was no way to lock them all up individually, so he had to assume they were plotting in there and couldn't be left unguarded.

  It didn't leave a lot of people to actually sleep.

  Max was... pretty useless at the moment. Tom had managed to get him patched up enough to walk, and together they had fixed the whole scene with Einar and Eira to not look like a squad of their own scouts had assassinated their official commander, heir to the fucking throne. Because that was exactly what had happened.

  Tom rubbed at his temples.

  He'd said the other day that Tovi had played Max like a fiddle. Well, he must be some kind of oboe, because he'd been played too. Everyone here that was dedicated to taking forts had been used as a cover for their sneaky bullshit.

  He hadn't even liked Einar, really... but this wasn't right. The kid had deserved better than to lose everything like that.

  Besides, he'd grown on him. A bit.

  The official story was that Einar had left to try and help the scouts take down the commander, against orders.

  The truth was that the scouts had come back empty handed, most likely never having bothered to do what Max told them, and Einar had offered to help because he was to gung-ho about taking this place for his dead grandpa.

  The scouts had offered to go back with him.

  Tom had allowed it.

  He'd sent the kid into that.

  Was he too tired to notice the setup? Too distracted by keeping his people on their feet? Or was he too trusting of these people just because he'd fought and bled with them so many times before? Had he trusted the scouts simply because they had been an extension of Max for days now, so he treated them as if Max was right there with them?

  Stupid.

  Really, that was a perfect chance for them. And he could see it now clear as day. He knew, he knew, that all the scouts wore those skulls. They were all part of Corvi's little cult. That meant they were loyal to Tovi, not Brynjar, and sure as hell not Einar.

  They had ditched paladin boy because he would have stopped them.

  Tom should have seen it.

  Hell, Einar should have seen it.

  He kicked another piece of the golden piss god.

  According to the rest of the people, now more or less officially under his command, they burned their dead. At least they wouldn't have to carry corpses back. They had plenty of witnesses.

  The commander had been found dead in the central keep. Guy had been fucked up pretty bad by blades and birds.

  Max had seemed blindsided by the news and didn't want to talk about it. He'd been more or less silent since the Einar and Eira thing had gone down. It must have been a pretty rough fight, given how Max had looked after. Real case of, "Yeah, it hurt, but you should see the other guy."

  And he'd gotten it done with no support too, because his support had run off to be murdery.

  The luster was wearing off this place at an alarming rate.

  "Hey."

  Tom tilted his head a bit.

  The dark haired scout girl stood a few feet away.

  She held up a black glass bottle. "Thought you looked a bit down."

  "Lost a third of my people. My friend lost most everyone under his command except you, and won't speak two words about it. I've got a watch rotation everyone is basically ignoring by not bothering to sleep and a keep with a hell of a lot more prisoners than we have people to watch them." He shrugged. "I'd say that's less than ideal. Oh, and the royal kid I was supposed to keep an eye on got knifed while I was busy trying to keep everyone else alive. So, yeah. 'Bit down' kind of sums it up."

  She leaned against the barrel he was sitting on. Pretty close.

  Smelled nice, even after the night before. He sure as hell didn't.

  She pulled the cork out of the bottle. "Sometimes things go bad. But really, how bad was this? I mean, look at this place." She waved the bottle about. "We took it, didn't we? I seem to recall Brynjar giving a speech before we left about the glory and honor to be found in dying for this cause and whatnot."

  "I'd rather not, personally."

  "Yeah, me neither." She took a swig.

  He couldn't help but notice she was still wearing one of those skulls.

  She offered the bottle again.

  He took it, and took a swig. "This is going to sound really bad but... what's your name?"

  She gave him a level stare. "You don't remember?"

  "Uhh... no. Sorry. Been under a lot of stress."

  She grinned. "That's because I didn't tell you. You never asked before. I figured you'd ask around and try and wiggle around not knowing." She shrugged. "Iona."

  He held out his hand. "Caddrach."

  She shook it. "Really? But you answer to Tom sometimes."

  "Nickname from when I was a kid."

  "How do you get Tom from Caddrach?"

  "Have to translate it into Yiddish first." He nodded and took another swig.

  Iona smiled.

  He pointed at the skull. "So what does Corvi think about all this?"

  She shrugged a bit. "I have no idea. She's never seen fit to talk to me." She pulled the cord up over her dark head of curls. "You want to try?"

  He shook his head. "Last thing I need is a holy war going on in my head."

  She put it back on. "Honestly, I don't know many people she talks to. I mean, you hear about it happening, but it's rare. Most of us just like the idea of an active god better than a passive one. Just... kind of the concept that they might actually listen, ya know?"

  "Mmm." He nodded and took another swig. "Careful what you wish for. I haven't figured out how to get mine to stop talking yet."

  The room was more or less as Max had left it. All that was missing were the birds flying around.

  Max sat on the floor, his back to a wall, his legs stretched out in front of him haphazardly. He hadn't sat so much as collapsed there.

  Dave was still lying face down on the floor.

  He hadn't moved an inch.

  Max had been sure, absolutely certain, that he had still been alive. He hadn't done that much damage. It was just about taking him out of the fight.

  And yet there he lay.

  The only real person Max had seen in here beyond Tom.

  Wa
s that what had happened? Dave had ended up alone? Max had to admit, Tom had been a stabilizing presence this whole time. How easy would it be to mistake this world for reality without proof that it wasn't? Everyone seemed to think and act of their own free will now, just like real people. Sure, Dave had still had a user interface... but plenty could be done without ever opening it. If he had really been that crazy he could have just assumed it was a hallucination.

  No doubt Mehtan had fed such thoughts. With what Max knew of gods in here... there wasn't much they were too good for.

  A familiar fluttering of feathers approached from an open window.

  The black bird looked much like all the others... except for still bearing a few singed feathers.

  Skip landed on the standing toe of Max's boot.

  Max wasn't sure he was glad to see him. Part of him was overjoyed that Skip wasn't one of the birds lying still on the floor... but the rest of him was numb.

  That part won out.

  He didn't move his eyes from Dave.

  "You can't avoid me forever."

  It was Skip's beak, but the voice that came out was Corvi's. Somehow it sounded less... impressive when Max heard it with his ears. She had always just been present in his mind.

  She might be right that he couldn't avoid her, but he was game to try. He'd found the pendant around his neck again once already. He'd tossed it across the room, letting it lie on the floor.

  He figured while it was in his line of sight it couldn't move. So far that checked out.

  "That's low." He tried to shake his head. It didn't move much. "Using Skip like a puppet."

  "He is willing." Skip flapped his wings a few times. "He worries for you, as I do."

  Max's mouth twisted. He had been trying to smile. "You? Worry? Hardly. At most you're afraid you'll lose a toy. But what do you care? You throw them away so casually."

  "You mourn. I understand. Eira was a worthy soldier for my cause. She will be remembered, glorified in tales and songs."

  "Go away."

  "She did well. As have you."

  He barked out a bitter laugh. "You have no idea how little I care if you approve."

  The bird's head tilted slightly. "You're usually far more reasonable." The head turned, facing Dave. "Is this about him?"

  He... didn't know if it was about Dave, or about Eira. Maybe both.

  He had been closer to Eira, especially of late. He had stopped thinking of her as a game character days ago. She had been as real to him as Tom.