Augury Answered

by Phillip Murrell

  Swift Shot’s eyes finally looked sympathetic again. She reached out and caressed Two Dogs’ cheek. He closed his eyes and held his tears back.

  “I wouldn’t,” Swift Shot admitted. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through. It terrifies me to think it could happen to me or that I’ll fail you. You saved me. You saved all of us. Without your barriers, we would have died. Instead, you gave us a chance. If nothing else, more Corlains are dead because Vikisotes were still there to fight after they entered the city.”

  “You’ve saved me just as many times.”

  “This isn’t a competition!”

  Two Dogs took a step back after Swift Shot’s outburst.

  “I’m sorry,” Two Dogs said.

  “No, I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it? I know you’re scared, but maybe it’ll help to get it off your chest?”

  Tears pooled, then fell down Two Dogs’ face. Swift Shot placed a comforting arm across his shoulders. He leaned his head into hers.

  “Who am I if not a protector?”

  “You’ll always be a protector. Even if you aren’t enhanced, you’re still stronger and faster than most people I know. Your magic didn’t make you a competent fighter. You did that. I’ll do everything I can to help you reconnect with Mother Turklyo, but until you do, I’m positive the Corlains still have much to fear.”

  Two Dogs lifted his head and stared into Swift Shot’s eyes.

  “You just won’t be able to do it a dozen at a time anymore.”

  Swift Shot laughed after finishing her joke. Two Dogs joined her. It felt cathartic.

  “Thank you,” Two Dogs said.

  Swift Shot smiled in response. “If you start crying again, you better get me some strong ferm first.”

  The two Lacreechee shared another round of laughter.

  They walked for hours into the evening and took turns watching for Corlains as the other slept. They continued before dawn, always heading north. The Corlains hadn’t pushed this far north, so the only people they saw were Vikisote commoners. Most ignored them. Two Dogs wasn’t sure if any tribes lived in this part of Glostaimia. If they did, they weren’t making themselves known.

  Another day passed with the two bantering. More than once, Two Dogs slipped further into despair than Swift Shot was comfortable. Often he voiced his disgust in Murid’s decisions. She’d always call him out. He’d apologize, they’d bond over how many Corlains they would still kill, then they’d laugh. Three days passed like this as the two traveled north.

  Around noon on the third day, Two Dogs thought he heard several horses galloping. He and Swift Shot moved to the side of the road and hid among the foliage. Two Dogs held a hand to the ground and felt it tremble. Several riders were coming, too many to be locals. Judging by the route they took after the battle, two Dogs doubted the Corlains got in front of them. It could be the Vikisotes, but he doubted they’d be this interested in a fight so soon after nearly becoming extinct. It was possible another army lived here. Two Dogs wasn’t a strong student of geography and the arbitrary borders of nations not belonging to a tribe.

  “I make six riders,” Swift Shot said, readying a pitiful bow she found on a corpse as they escaped the ring fortress.

  She had an arrow aimed at the lead rider. Her hands trembled with the loss of two fingers. Two Dogs looked closer at the riders. Their armor was brown. It didn’t shine in the midday sun.

  “I think they’re Vikisotes,” Two Dogs said.

  He sighed. He’d hoped they’d never run into any. Swift Shot would have given up once she’d remembered how much she liked ferm.

  Swift Shot placed her arrow back into her return quiver. “I think you’re right. Shall we announce ourselves?”

  Two Dogs sighed again and held out his hand, indicating she should lead the way.

  Swift Shot stood from behind her concealment. Two Dogs followed her to stand in the center of the road. The riders were approximately thirty yards away when they increased their pace. The lead rider waved frantically at the pair of Lacreechee.

  “I think he likes you,” Two Dogs joked.

  “He’s only human,” Swift Shot joked back.

  As the riders move closer, Two Dogs confirmed they were Vikisotes. He smiled when he recognized the lead rider.

  “I’ll be a gods’ whore, it is you!” Egill shouted.

  He jumped from his horse and grabbed Two Dogs in a fierce bear hug. After he released Two Dogs, he did the same to Swift Shot. Since she was lighter, he lifted her off the ground and twirled her once. Normally a man would have been kicked in the crotch for that, but Swift Shot seemed to be just as happy to see him.

  “I can’t believe you live,” Egill said.

  “I can’t believe it either,” Two Dogs admitted. “Ancestors’ Hand had some magic hidden up her sleeve that gave us a chance to escape.”

  “Where is she?” Egill asked.

  His eyes lit up with expectation. When Two Dogs and Swift Shot stared at the ground, his eyes followed.

  “I see,” he said.

  “Her sacrifice took many Corlains with her,” Swift Shot said.

  Egill nodded. “Good. I hope they all burn in the afterlife.”

  “Please tell me Queen Murid escaped too,” Swift Shot said.

  Two Dogs was about to ask the same question. A huge part of him hoped she hadn’t. Under that condition, maybe he could forgive her. Her decisions cost Two Dogs his power! If she had just ordered a retreat instead of honoring some invented deity, he’d still have an army to fight the Corlains with.

  “She does.” Egill smiled. “We gathered in Wyrmcrest.”

  “How many?” Two Dogs asked.

  Now it was Egill’s turn to look somber. “Sixty-three.”

  A silence hung between the Lacreechee and the Vikisotes. Swift Shot broke it.

  “Now make it sixty-five.”

  Egill smiled and nodded a single time.

  “How far away is your stronghold?” Two Dogs asked.

  “About fifteen kilometers northwest of here,” Egill answered.

  “How far is that exactly?” Swift Shot asked.

  “You Nam . . . people and your backward system of measurement. Please join the rest of Glostaimia,” Egill said.

  Two Dogs sighed but allowed the barb to pass unacknowledged.

  “It’s about an hour’s ride from here,” Egill clarified.

  “What brought you out this far?” Two Dogs asked.

  “Queen Murid and I agreed that if you’d escape, you’d likely be on this road. We’ve checked it for days. I’m glad we finally found you. We’ve had reports that a few hundred Corlains are advancing on our position.”

  “We thank you for your search,” Swift Shot said.

  Egill rubbed the back of his head. “Honestly, I needed to get out of Wyrmcrest for other reasons too.”

  “Which were?” Swift Shot asked.

  “Their mayor and I don’t see eye to eye. Keeping us in the same room will eventually lead to violence.”

  “Then why ally yourself with him?” Two Dogs asked. “Can he be trusted?”

  Egill shrugged. “He’s a dog of a man. In our business, there’s the right way and the wrong way. He prefers the evil way, but we’re in no position to be picky.”

  “As long as he’ll help us kill Corlains,” Swift Shot said.

  “That he will,” Egill confirmed. “We should head back. The Corlains will soon be here.”

  “Why are you even out here?” Two Dogs shouted. “Didn’t you learn your lesson the last time? If you wait, the Corlains will mass on you.”

  “We didn’t want to abandon you,” Egill said.

  Two Dogs threw his hands up. “We aren’t your saviors.”

  Egill’s voice took a hard edge. “Nobody said you were. I told you before, I’m your man. We all are. Jorosolman wouldn’t have forgiven me if I hadn’t tried. Not after saving my life twice.”

  Swift Shot jumped between the men. “Relax, boys, let’s just ge
t off this road. I think we could all go for a tall cup of ferm.”

  Egill held his glare for a moment longer, then looked to Swift Shot and smiled. “I know I can go for one. We have reason to celebrate now!”

  The other Vikisotes cheered in agreement. They wouldn’t have if they knew Two Dogs was lame now. He shuddered when he thought of what that revelation could lead to. Egill helped Swift Shot onto his horse behind him. Two Dogs mounted behind another Vikisote. As embarrassing as it was to ride like this, he had to admit his feet thanked him for it.

  The riders turned their horses north and galloped away.

  chapter 20

  Unlike the celebration hall, this longhouse was absent of anything other than a single table with a bench on each side. A dozen influential Vikisotes in Wyrmcrest surrounded the table. They held one person at higher esteem than her.

  Murid stared at the Vikisote warrior standing before her inside the longhouse. His name was Sven. A boorish man who probably just entered his thirties. He was the mayor of Wyrmcrest and clearly upset that Murid had chosen his home to retreat to.

  “I understand your worry, Sven, but this is still my kingdom,” Murid said.

  She added steel to her voice. Her claim to a throne was practically nonexistent at this point. The few people who survived the Corlain attack all looked at her with a new perspective. They no longer needed a reason to abandon her. Now, they simply needed the first person to walk away. Sven seemed keen to become that person.

  “My worry? You say it like it has no merit. The Corlains know you’re against them. They sent the Black Cloud to destroy you. Do you think they’ll give up after a single battle? A single battle that wiped out ninety-eight percent of your army?”

  Sven crossed his arms in defiance. Murid wished Egill was here. He was adamant he could find the Lacreechee. Murid knew it was a fool’s errand. The Lacreechee were dead. The only reason she agreed to let him search was because he was her only ally left, and she needed to keep him happy. There was also the point of Egill and Sven absolutely despising each other. If she lost Egill’s loyalty, a knife would find its way to her throat within a night.

  She scratched at her constantly itchy skin. “Do you truly believe the Corlains will spare you if you turn against me?”

  “Of course not, but you shouldn’t have brought this to us.”

  “You forget your place!”

  Sven took a step back. He grimaced, then stomped loudly as he took three steps forward. He was now within arm’s reach of Murid.

  “You need a husband,” Sven whispered into Murid’s ear.

  That was his game. He wanted to be king. Marrying her would be the easiest way. Apparently, love was nothing next to ambition. He would seed more doubt into the minds of the other Vikisotes, then have a change of heart when she agreed to his terms. It disgusted Murid that she actually considered the offer. She’d played her hand, but people would never accept a woman as their leader, especially Vikisotes. Murid felt she would have been more accepted as a foreign man than as a Vikisote woman. She’d never had a chance. Even Two Dogs seemed equally interested in her power as he was with her as a person. The memory of Two Dogs wounded Murid. The people would have accepted him. Now, her option was this man before her or murder in the night.

  Sven stepped back and raised his voice for all to hear. “The Corlains have spies everywhere. Fortunately, I’m a man hard to lie to. I’ve found the spies who made it easy for the Corlains to surround your ring fortress.”

  Sven clapped his hands. The door at the end of the longhouse opened. Five men and three women were escorted in and forced to kneel before Murid. They all had fresh bruises, burns, and lacerations. Murid knew quite well how Sven learned the truth.

  One prisoner had a scar on her forehead. It was pink and looked to have been recently covered by a scab that had been picked away. That wasn’t the worst of her injuries. A sizeable portion of her scalp, approximately five centimeters, had been removed.

  Sven pulled a handful of hair from a pouch on his belt. Murid soon realized the strands were attached to the missing piece of the woman’s head. The man cackled as he dangled it before her.

  “I’d heard once that other Vikisotes started the tradition of scalping, then the Namerians adopted it.” Sven dropped the clump of hair onto the prisoner’s head. It bounced off the festering wound, then fell to the floor. “I don’t get the fascination.” He patted the trembling woman on the head. “Don’t worry, you’re still beautiful.”

  Sven burst into laughter. His sycophants soon joined. It turned Murid’s stomach to know she now relied on these people to reconstitute her army.

  Sven grabbed a handful of the woman’s remaining hair and yanked her to her feet. She struggled against his hand and whimpered.

  “My queen, may I introduce to you General Githinji’s spymaster.”

  Sven threw the woman at Murid’s feet. Murid half expected the woman to grovel by her ankles. To express remorse or to complain it was a mistake. Instead, the woman curled into the fetal position and wept. Whatever Sven had done had been traumatic.

  “The punishment must be death, my queen,” Sven said.

  This man was manipulative. Heads nodded around Murid. She would look even weaker if she ignored the suggestion. What made Murid feel sick was the fact she wanted to punish these people. They deserved it. She scratched her arms again.

  “I suggest we line them up and serve them refreshments. We have crick venom available. The lucky ones will get that. The unlucky ones will find only honey ferm.”

  Murid cringed. Sven was suggesting the captives not drink their beverage but have it poured over their bodies in the hot sun. Insects would do the rest. Crick venom was merciful under these conditions.

  Before Murid responded, cheers erupted outside the longhouse.

  “Watch them,” Murid commanded to some of her loyal guards.

  Murid squirted a generous volume of crick oil into her hands. She vigorously rubbed the concoction into her skin, starting with her cheeks and neck. Endorphins surged through every cell in her body as the itchiness abated. She felt euphoric but also aggressive. Should the commotion outside be an enemy, something she almost wished for now, she was prepared to fight. It was such a pity the effects of the crick oil wore off so quickly. Now she understood why so many of her people constantly re-applied it.

  Murid left the longhouse with Sven and a few others on her heels. She shielded her eyes as she exited the building. Once her eyes focused, a smile spread across her face. Sitting behind Egill was Swift Shot. Two Dogs jumped off a different horse. Murid searched anxiously to see if Ancestors’ Hand was with them too. She wasn’t, but seeing Two Dogs made her forget the man standing behind her.

  She raced toward the Lacreechee and grabbed them both in a hug. She didn’t care that the Vikisotes would judge this. She owed her life to these people.

  “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” Murid said as she released Two Dogs from a hug. One he hadn’t returned.

  “Thank her. She insisted,” Two Dogs said.

  The statement hurt Murid. Two Dogs seemed different. Losing Ancestors’ Hand must have hurt, but she’d lost thousands more. Surely, he couldn’t be mad at her?

  “These must be the Namerians we’ve heard so much about,” Sven said.

  Murid stiffened. She saw emotion fill Two Dogs’ eyes.

  “They prefer to be called Mother Turklyo’s children,” Murid said before anything escalated.

  It seemed to work. Two Dogs hands had hovered over his weapons, but they slowly fell to his side.

  “Who are you?” Two Dogs asked Sven.

  “I’m Sven, the Mayor of Wyrmcrest. Perhaps soon to be much more,” Sven answered.

  He pulled Murid’s hips into a hug. Two Dogs stared at his hands, then looked at Murid. Perhaps his stare started as pain, but it ended as betrayal. Were his eyes judging her? How dare he! Murid pushed Sven’s arms away. He laughed along with a few of the Wyrmcrest warriors present. />
  “I’m glad you could make it,” Sven said. It was clear he wasn’t pleased. “You’re just in time to hear Queen Murid pronounce judgment on the Corlain spies we’ve captured.”

  “You have Corlains?” Two Dogs asked.

  His voice raised in volume. His shoulders heaved. Sven took a step back and stuttered.

  “Y-Yes. Right inside.”

  Two Dogs removed his tomahawk from his belt.

  “Two Dogs, don’t do anything. They’re prisoners,” Murid said.

  Two Dogs ignored her, as did Swift Shot. She drew her knife and followed her friend.

  “I said no,” Murid said.

  Two Dogs and Swift Shot entered the longhouse. Murid stepped forward, but Sven’s hand held her in place.

  “What’s going on?” he asked.

  Screams from inside the longhouse were his answer. Murid shook her arm loose and raced inside.

  The sight was unsettling. Half of the prisoners were already dead. Two Dogs had the head of the spymaster in his hand as he hacked it free. The two Vikisote guards hadn’t even drawn their weapons. They simply watched as Swift Shot thrust her knife through the uppermost part of a captive’s spine.

  “Enough!” Murid screamed.

  Two Dogs stared defiantly at her and scalped the last living prisoner. The man shrieked in pain as Two Dogs stood over him and taunted him with his igsidian blades dripping with the blood of the other spies.

  “What’s wrong with you!” Murid screamed.

  She looked over her shoulder at Sven and Egill. Sven seemed amused. It probably pleased him to lose a romantic competitor without even trying. Egill looked more conflicted. On one hand, she was still technically his queen, but she knew he wanted to follow a man. Any man, it would appear.

  Two Dogs yanked the scalped man’s head back and allowed Swift Shot to stab him in the throat. Two Dogs sneered as he wiped his blades clean.

  “We shouldn’t have had to do that,” Two Dogs said.

  She thought this man would own her heart forever. What she just saw was more vile than anything the Corlains had done to her. Executing prisoners was not what good people did!

  “Why were they still alive?” Swift Shot asked. “If you knew they were spies, they should have been executed.”