Augury Answered

by Phillip Murrell

  “Swift Shot, fill this fortress with fog. Everyone, listen up! We must make a run for it! Swift Shot will cover us with fog! We’re going to head north! Take the road and stay on it! It will get us into the mountains! We’ll meet in Wyrmcrest!”

  Many nodded, but others voiced their displeasure with leaving the safety Two Dogs provided them.

  “They’ll cut us down!” someone shouted.

  Murid held up her hands to calm them. “If we stay here, we’re dead. The Corlains haven’t been taking prisoners in Vikisoteland. We have one advantage they don’t.”

  “Yeah, the Namerians!” a shield maiden shouted.

  Murid winced. Thankfully, Two Dogs was too absorbed in his barrier to hear the disparaging term.

  “No!” Murid shouted. “We know this land.”

  “The fog will blind us,” another person protested.

  “Their armor already blinds us!” Egill shouted.

  “Exactly,” Murid said. “The fog will give them a taste of their own medicine.”

  “It’s too far,” came yet another complaint.

  Murid clenched her jaw. A glance at both Ancestors’ Hand and Two Dogs confirmed they only had a few minutes left before the Corlains simply shot them where they stood.

  “We have our crick oil. Rub it in deep. We’ll outrun them,” Murid said.

  The warriors among the group nodded more vigorously. They applied even more of the human-enhancing crick oil. Egill handed her a vial. She hesitated to grab it. Thoughts of how sick it made her feel filled her memory, but the eyes of many were on her, watching intently to see what she did. If she ignored the oil, she felt it would send a fresh wave of despair through the ranks. Murid accepted the vial and poured all of it into her hands. She rubbed it over her face and inside her armor.

  The effects of the crick oil were instant. They were the complete opposite of her wedding night. She felt like a single breath would last for weeks. Her muscles corded with potential. Even her disposition improved. She knew she could win this fight. It was as if the gods themselves had given Murid all their strength. Looking around at her warriors, it was clear they also felt the same blast of optimism. Crick oil didn’t last long, but she didn’t need more than thirty minutes. She had plenty of time.

  “Would you like some?” Egill asked Swift Shot.

  “No thanks. I’ll take all the ferm you have, but Mother Turklyo provides me with the strength I need,” Swift Shot answered.

  “I’m sorry. After we get out of here, I’ll let you sample my special reserve held in each village,” Murid said.

  “They save ferm for you?” Swift Shot asked.

  “You never know when the king or queen might show up. Nobody wants to seem inhospitable,” Murid said.

  “When we destroy the Corlains, I’m going to need you to treat me to a crawl across your kingdom,” Swift Shot said.

  “It’s a deal,” Murid agreed. “May we have our fog?”

  Swift Shot closed her eyes and concentrated. The ground seemed to bleed water vapor. Billowing fog rose to the height of four meters.

  The shooting surrounding them stopped. Screams echoed off the destruction. The booms of cannons once more filled the air. The balls whistled as they began to explode around Murid and her people.

  “Get them out of here!” Swift Shot screamed.

  “Run!” Murid yelled.

  Motion passed around her. Many people bumped into each other. They didn’t quite know the land when most of the buildings on it now littered the ground. The glow of orange that had flared around her stopped. Murid thought she heard a body hit the ground. It had to be Two Dogs, but Swift Shot’s fog was too thick, even at this close distance.

  “Two Dogs, where are you?” Murid shouted.

  “I’ve got him,” Swift Shot replied. “Get your ass out of here. This fog won’t stay forever!”

  Murid knew she was right. It hurt her to leave Two Dogs and his friends, but she realized they were far more likely to escape than she was. With regret, she ran the way her body faced. She took comfort when her feet settled on the familiar feeling of the wood and sand that made Vikisote roads.

  Regrettably, the fog didn’t extend as far as she’d hoped. No more than a hundred meters past the celebration longhouse, Murid saw it dissipate. The sound of melee combat became clear as she pushed her body well past her normal limits. Murid covered her eyes from the glare shining off dozens of Corlains. Ironically, cloud cover began to block the sun.

  “The gods favor us! For the queen!” someone shouted.

  Murid turned her head toward the voice. The fog was barely a hindrance at this point. What she saw was another group of survivors charge the left flank of the Corlains her group fought. The Corlains used their muskets as melee weapons. The crick oil made her people so fast that the Corlains didn’t have time to reload. Murid drew her sword and joined the fray.

  She leaped over a Vikisote body and came down between two Corlains. Murid surprised herself when she cleaved the head off the shoulders of the Corlain on her right. She smashed her shield into the face of the Corlain on her left. The man stumbled backward and tripped on his heels. Murid stabbed him through the throat before he could stand.

  “Queen Murid!” Egill shouted.

  He swung his axe like one of her father’s old servants would swing his scythe during the wheat harvest. It was clear how much faster the Vikisotes moved than the Corlains. Why hadn’t Murid used it before? She probably could have beaten Two Dogs in their duel.

  Murid fought her way over to Egill. Each killed another Corlain who foolishly brought a musket to a sword fight.

  “The north gate is only a hundred meters away, but there’s a problem!” Egill shouted over the clash of metal and screams of the dying.

  Cannons blasted a group of Vikisotes charging out the hole in the wall that used to serve as a gate. The road’s grade quickly shifted to a sixty-degree angle as it ran up the side of the mountain. Four cannons blocked the road about two hundred meters up the incline.

  “They won’t shoot us while their soldiers are engaged,” Murid said. “Keep them fighting at all times. We can push our way past them.”

  “And once we get through the wall?” Egill asked.

  He ducked a butt stroke and came up with his axe between the Corlain’s legs. The man lost all fight as Egill kicked his axe free.

  Murid stabbed the woman she fought with through the heart. As she freed her blade, she held up a vial of pure crick venom.

  “Once we make it to the wall, we attach some of this to our arrows and clear the path.”

  Egill wiped his brow. He no longer wore his leather helmet. It likely laid with the bodies of her mutilated people.

  “You better be a damn good shot with this bow you magically find,” Egill said.

  Murid spread her arms to indicate the battlefield. Bodies of all types lay in every position possible. There were weapons available.

  “I’m sure the Corlains will just take a break while you grab a replacement bow, gather some arrows, attach your venom—”

  A Corlain skirmisher interrupted Egill. The woman held a spear and thrust at him. He jumped backward and slashed downward with his axe. He parried the spear. Murid attacked the skirmisher from the side. Her sword broke through her right ribs and out her left ones.

  “You were saying?” Murid asked.

  “Thanks, but we’re about to be out of options again,” Egill said.

  There were less than thirty Vikisotes left in Murid’s group. The last of the nearest Corlains were dead, but the heavy sound of their comrades’ footsteps echoed around them.

  “We have to rush the cannons,” Murid said. “I don’t like it. It won’t be pretty, but we have no other choice.”

  “We have one, my queen,” a shield maiden said.

  “What, Olha?” Murid asked.

  “Let a few of us charge them first. They’ll get us, but in the time it takes to reload, you can make our sacrifice count.”


  “No!” Murid shouted.

  “Too late,” Olha replied.

  Olha hoisted her shield and charged the cannons with her head held low behind it. Six more Vikisotes saluted Murid and followed Olha. Before Murid could chase them, Egill grabbed her and held her in place.

  “Let them honor you,” he said. “Be ready to run, everyone!”

  Hardened warriors nodded. Murid forced herself to watch Olha’s charge. The cannons blasted, as Murid knew they would. Most of the group ceased moving, but a single warrior continued to charge.

  “Go!” Egill screamed.

  Murid was yanked to her feet. She shook herself free and made sure she led the second charge. The plan worked. The Corlains were busy reloading and stabbing the last Vikisote with their swords. There were only twenty Corlains in all. Murid’s group was slightly larger. The Corlains finally noticed the enraged Vikisotes. They pointed their swords at the Vikisotes and walked to stand in front of their cannons. The Vikisotes crashed into the Corlains.

  The Corlains had the advantage of the high ground, but the Vikisotes were still soaked in crick oil. The battle was one-sided.

  With a burst of speed, Egill passed Murid and embedded his axe into the stomach of the first Corlain. He swung the body, still connected to his axe, into a second Corlain. The second Corlain tried to slash around his dead friend and hit Egill, but the Vikisote commander kept the body between them. The Corlain eventually became frustrated and stabbed through the throat of his comrade to hit his target. The moment the Corlain’s sword was committed, Egill swung his axe sideways. The Corlain lost his grip on his weapon. Egill spun as he brought his axe around. The blade landed perfectly in the center of the Corlain’s back. The man’s legs collapsed beneath him. Egill stomped onto the man’s neck to help release his axe.

  Murid’s eyes widened as a Corlain sword stabbed through the wood of her round shield. It missed hitting her, but it startled her enough to curse. Her shield arm was yanked to the side as the Corlain attempted to free his weapon. Her arm twisted in such an angle she had to release her hold on her shield. With her defensive weapon stripped, she felt naked. She barely parried a thrust. She had two Corlains attacking her. One came from each side. Murid afforded herself a glance. Nobody nearby was likely to help with one of her opponents.

  Murid brought her sword across her body to block an attack on her left side. The movement forced her to hug her left arm close to her body. Her fingers brushed her belt and rested on one of her vials of pure crick venom. Murid’s original plan was no longer needed. Her venom had a new purpose.

  “Catch!” Murid shouted as she tossed the vial toward the Corlain on her left.

  The man swatted at the vial with his sword. His aim was true. The glass easily fractured and sprayed the air with crick venom. Most of it landed on the man’s face. His screams redefined pain in Murid’s mind. He clawed at his face; his fingers wiped away liquid skin. His head collapsed on itself. Murid disregarded him as she swung her sword back, just in time to parry another attack. With her attention no longer divided, Murid curled the fingers on her left hand into a fist and punched the Corlain. Thankfully, Corlain artillery soldiers didn’t have armor. The man’s nose crushed. The blow made the man stumble. He backed into one of the cannons and yelped. Murid forced him to bend in the wrong direction over the cannon. She stabbed him through the chest and felt her sword strike the cannon. When she pulled her blade from the corpse, she noticed the tip had broken off.

  One of the remaining Vikisotes impaled the last Corlain on the spear he’d acquired from a previous opponent. As the man died, the battle ended for Murid. She took stock of how many survived. Relief filled her heart when she identified Egill among the living. Besides him, she had four shield maidens and eight male warriors. The fourteen of them were a far cry from the thousands that made up her army that morning.

  Egill grabbed her on the arm. “We have to go, my queen.”

  Murid nodded. He was right, but she wanted to look one last time at the ring fortress that had been her home for over fifteen years.

  The fog surrounding the celebration longhouse was gone. So were any signs of ghost warriors. Large formations of Corlains converged on one location. Murid couldn’t tell from this distance, but her instincts said Two Dogs, Swift Shot, and Ancestors’ Hand were still giving them trouble. Their sacrifice gave her a chance. There were more Vikisotes who could still rally to her banner. There were other countries that hated the rules and oppression Corla enforced across Glostaimia.

  Murid turned away and looked at the bodies at her feet. One brought forth the tears she’d kept at bay. Olha had apparently been the sole Vikisote to make it to the cannons. Her body had been impaled dozens of times. Her death was likely painful but brief. Many of her people had deaths like that today. Possibly, even Faida had fallen in that fashion.

  Thinking of Faida brought more powerful tears. Hafoca had meant nothing to her compared to Faida. She cried for the healer and priestess more than she did after her own parents’ deaths.

  Egill grabbed her again. “We have to leave, now!”

  Egill didn’t wait for a response. He dragged Murid behind him. Her chipped sword slipped from her grasp as Egill tried to get her to run. She furiously scratched at her raw skin that suddenly felt on fire. Her crick oil must be wearing off. She would have to get more immediately!

  Murid snatched her hand free of Egill. “Let’s go!”

  The surviving Vikisotes moved off the road and scampered up the mountain. As he passed, Egill poured concentrated crick venom over the Corlain cannons. A caustic reaction took place that ruined them as weapons.

  chapter 17

  Swift Shot huddled Two Dogs’ exhausted body against her own. The two hid with Ancestors’ Hand inside the demolished longhouse Faida maintained as the Vikisotes’ priestess and healer. The building, like nearly all others inside the ring fortress, was more rubble than architecture. Their space was cramped and forced them to crouch. However, it provided exceptional concealment from the Corlains searching for Vikisote survivors.

  Ancestors’ Hand looked nearly as drained as Two Dogs. Two Dogs collapsed from overexertion the moment Swift Shot had created the fog that covered Murid’s retreat. Two Dogs hoped she and Egill made it out, but the constant blasts of cannons and muskets made him doubt anyone who wasn’t Corlain would survive to witness another dawn.

  Swift Shot had her bow ready and an arrow nocked, but even though some of her magical stamina must have returned, she remained silent. The last of Ancestors’ Hand’s spirit army had been defeated, but the Corlains seemed hesitant to move throughout the captured ring fortress. Two Dogs heard commands given to move the artillery into position. Two Dogs assumed that meant their cannons.

  The nearest squad of Corlains moved farther away from the debris that hid Two Dogs and his companions. Two Dogs sighed as he suspected they were safe to speak quietly. Swift Shot let out her own pained sigh. Ancestors’ Hand sat cross-legged and meditated. She hadn’t spoken since Swift Shot had carried her to this location after doing the same for Two Dogs. He was thankful her powers hadn’t required as near constant a cost as Two Dogs and Ancestors’ Hand paid. When Swift Shot needed a rest, she could just fire her arrows as normal missiles. The cost to have them return was negligible. It meant only one dead Corlain at a time, but her arrows vanished fast enough that the Corlains often couldn’t determine where the shots were coming from. The psychological effect that had on the Corlains was nearly as impactful as launching them into the air with fireballs and wind gusts.

  “They’re moving away on my end,” Swift Shot whispered.

  “On mine too,” Two Dogs whispered back. “It sounded like they’re going to back off until their leader shows up. I think they’re bringing their cannons closer.”

  “Great, that’s all we need,” Swift Shot said.

  “Any ideas on how to get out of here?” Two Dogs asked.

  Swift shot shrugged and turned her attention back to the openi
ng in the collapsed home that served as her observation post.

  “What about you, old woman?” Two Dogs asked.

  Ancestors’ Hand didn’t respond. She continued to sit and chant inaudibly to herself. The igsidian he gave her glowed brightly. He could see the orange peek out of the opening in the pouch that hung from her neck. In fact, he could distinguish a dull, orange light subdued by the green of the turklyo-skin pouch.

  “Ancestors’ Hand, do you have any ideas?” Two Dogs asked.

  Ancestors’ Hand continued to ignore him. She looked to be in deep concentration. Two Dogs opened his mouth to ask louder, then decided against saying anything.

  “Can’t you just give us a shield and walk us out of here?” Swift Shot asked.

  Two Dogs laughed, but it came out as an exasperated scoff. He wasn’t sure if she’d been joking or was scared enough to actually ask something she knew was impossible. Two Dogs had never had to use his magic for so long before. His head still pounded from the exertion. All his breaths came out deep and frantic. He was hyperventilating. This was bad. He’d seen powerful mages hyperventilate before. It had meant they went beyond healthy limits of their magic. Some never recovered. They became ostracized members of the tribe. Two Dogs would rather die than lose the gifts Mother Turklyo had given him. He suspected the Black Cloud Corlains would give him that wish.

  “Isn’t it your turn to come up with an idea?” Two Dogs asked.

  Swift Shot offered a weak smile. Two Dogs knew she understood the situation. He was glad he’d meet his end with her. She’d always been his best friend. It was fitting.

  Two Dogs looked at Ancestors’ Hand. The old Intakee woman was still chanting to herself. It wasn’t anything he’d heard before. Intakee and Lacreechee were similar languages, but they weren’t exact copies. Ancestors’ Hand made it a point to speak in Lacreechee, but she’d proven she knew many languages. She could be speaking any of them. Two Dogs wanted to be mad at her for dismissing herself from the situation, but something told him she was doing it for him. He hoped she had the chance to recover long enough to help.