Murid considered the female Lacreechee. She thought these people were like her, but she now saw some of the savagery that others had claimed they always possessed. She rubbed the lingering crick oil on her skin.
“We aren’t monsters! That was murder,” Murid said.
“My queen—” Egill started.
“No!” Murid screamed. “I’m in charge here. I make the rules. I won’t allow any of you to mock or manipulate me any further!”
“How else will the Vikisotes be anything other than a joke?” Two Dogs asked.
The question stole the breath from her chest.
“The Vikisotes took you in. You were the ones fought to near extinction,” Murid said.
“You should have abandoned your ring fortress. You chose to celebrate. That is why your people died. You’re a fool and you’re weak. You know nothing of our sacrifice!” Two Dogs screamed.
“We celebrated because warriors have their traditions. Offending the gods would have led to more death. I would have loved to relocate, but the calendar didn’t support it.”
Two Dogs flinched. To him it must have felt like a weak excuse. Murid couldn’t expect him to learn and accept the truth in such a short time.
Two Dogs breathed louder out his nose. He constantly flexed and relaxed his fingers. Despite the connection Murid had thought they shared, she heard the pain in his voice. “You’re weak. There’s no other way to say it. That’s why you need a man. It’s not because you’re a woman; it’s because you’re weak and give real women like Swift Shot a bad name.”
Murid stared at Swift Shot and looked for any form of support. Swift Shot stared defiantly at her. She was fully in support of Two Dogs. She may owe them her life, but that only meant she would spare theirs’.
“Sven, do you have a prison?” Murid asked.
Sven smiled. “Yes, my queen. It’s at your disposal.”
“Good. Egill, arrest these two.”
Egill hesitated. Murid snarled at him.
“I said arrest these two. I am your queen. You will obey me!”
“I’m sorry, Murid, but I side with them,” Egill said.
Egill stood alongside Two Dogs and Swift Shot. Approximately a third of the warriors moved to stand with Egill as traitors. Sven and the rest of the Vikisotes moved behind her. Murid noticed that most of her people were from Wyrmcrest. The survivors of the Corlain fight were mostly with the people they practically worshipped now. That damn Vikisote warrior bond!
“So, that’s how it is now?” Murid asked.
Her heart raced. Her anger doubled. After everything she’d been through, after all she’d lost and sacrificed, her people left the moment a man said he wanted to be in charge. The only people left did it out of loyalty to Sven, not to her. She rested her hand on the pommel of her sword. The action didn’t go unnoticed.
“We have weapons too,” Two Dogs said. He pulled his tomahawk and knife free of his belt. “Unlike your gods, Mother Turklyo has given us the gifts to defeat you. Leave. It’s in your instinct. You’re a coward. Leave.”
“You’re a sexist! You can’t stand to know that I’m a leader and you’re simply the muscle!”
Murid relished the look on Two Dogs’ face as her insults landed. She scratched her arm as the pain solidified.
Two Dogs gestured at Swift Shot with his head. “Tell that to her. Or to Bright Stone.”
“You can count them on your fingers. I’m utterly impressed. I see now what’s in your heart.”
“Don’t speak ill of my chief. She died fighting the Corlains. It was a battle we won, but you wouldn’t know what that felt like.”
“We’ve all suffered! Namerians aren’t the only people on the planet!”
Damn. She didn’t mean to say that. She should have taken it back. She knew she should, but Murid had fully given in to her anger. First, she thought once more of apologizing. Next, she thought of how he should apologize to her. Murid’s eyes fell on the tomahawk in Two Dogs’ hand and how it was moving toward her face.
The last thing she thought was, He wouldn’t.
chapter 21
Silence hung in the air. Two Dogs looked at his fingers. Once there was a tomahawk held by them; now that same weapon was lodged inside Murid’s skull. He regretted the action the moment the weapon left his hand. It felt like an eternity as it tumbled through the air and hit the unsuspecting Murid perfectly in the face.
She had tried to blame the cause of his misery on a calendar! On a holiday. He couldn't go home to Mother Turklyo because of her heathen god! Perhaps this was for the best?
As her body slammed into the table behind her, there was a moment of paralysis among the living. Two Dogs noticed Egill and his supportive Vikisotes seemed uncertain what to do. Clearly Egill was struggling with avenging his queen or maintaining his warrior’s bond with Two Dogs. As Murid’s body settled on the dirty floor, Sven’s warriors decided for Egill and his comrades. They drew their weapons and pointed them at Two Dogs and his allies.
“They killed my fiancée!” Sven shouted. “They killed the queen!”
Two Dogs hadn’t realized Murid had found a fiancé, but he knew that meant there wasn’t a way to talk himself out of this one. He didn’t care. He may have regretted killing Murid, but the rest of the Vikisotes opposing him meant nothing to him.
The Lacreechee and their Vikisote allies prepared to defend themselves from Sven and his warriors. The fight was brief. Swift Shot dropped three Vikisotes with lethal shots through their throats. Each arrow disappeared and returned to her quiver. Normally she would have added magic to each igsidian arrowhead, but the close proximity of both sides and Two Dogs’ lame status made her rely on sharpened stones alone. Her accuracy was a gift, but it also identified her as a target.
The remaining eleven Vikisotes loyal to Sven flipped the table separating both groups. They held the ends and charged with their heads ducked low. Two Dogs and his allies shielded themselves with their weapons and braced for the impact. The table slammed hard into Two Dogs and pushed him backward. He only had half a dozen Vikisote supporters and Swift Shot. Thankfully, Egill was one.
Egill swung his axe at the ankles peeking below the long table. The first man had his feet swept out from under him. The opposing Vikisotes threw the table into the supporters. Two Dogs vaulted over the top and landed with his knife buried in the chest of his nearest enemy. He stood and heard a scream that stopped his heart mid-beat.
Two Dogs parried a spear with his tomahawk and cut the woman’s throat who attacked him. He turned to see Swift Shot bleeding from many stab wounds. She screamed as three Vikisotes continued to gore her with their swords. Before dying, she let out one last blast of wind. It was stronger than any tornado. All survivors in the room, including Two Dogs, were thrown from their feet and landed hard on the stone floor.
Two Dogs rolled onto his back. His adrenaline waned. The ramification of murdering Murid hit him. Swift Shot paid the price for his action.
Egill was the first on his feet. He planted an axe into the heads, stomachs, and backs of the remaining Murid supporters. Two Dogs dragged himself to his feet moments before Egill could behead Sven.
“Stop!” Two Dogs shouted.
Sven scooted backward on his ass. He no longer had a weapon. His face was wide eyed and his bottom lip quivered. He held up his hands, closed his eyes, and looked away from Egill.
“Yes, yes, listen to your friend,” Sven said.
Two Dogs noticed he wisely chose not to refer to him as the N-word. Egill halted his attack.
“Why? He’ll claim to be king now. If you want to be in charge, this one must go,” Egill said.
Two Dogs watched as the two remaining Vikisotes other than Egill barred the door to the longhouse. Next, they moved the overturned table to block the entrance further. Two Dogs laughed at the absurdity of three people expecting him to be the king of foreigners. Mother Turklyo had a sense of humor.
“I don’t want to be your king,” Two Dogs
said.
“You must!” Egill shouted. “You have the power to defeat the Corlains and the respect of Vikisoteland.”
“I just killed your queen, so I doubt I have any respect left.”
“She had to go. I loved Queen Murid, but she didn’t understand how the world worked. You do.”
“I don’t have any power left, either,” Two Dogs admitted.
Egill stared at him with a gaping mouth. The other two Vikisotes also looked shocked.
“We saw your power many times,” one of them said.
Two Dogs covered his mouth and nose with his hands. He blew a frustrated breath into them. He slid his hands off his face and pressed his palms together as he spoke.
“I used up too much magic keeping the cannons from ripping into us. I’ve lost my connection. I’m nothing but a man with a sharp stone attached to a stick.”
Sven snickered, but a hard kick to his ribs by Egill quickly ended it.
“Then, you’ll help me take over,” Egill said.
“I’m leaving. This rage cost me too much. I was only here for Swift Shot, and now Vikisotes have taken her from me too.”
Citizens of Wyrmcrest pounded on the door to the longhouse.
“Mayor Sven, is everything alright?” someone from outside shouted.
“Help me!” Sven screamed. “They killed the queen, and are—ow!”
Sven grabbed the ribs on his right side as Egill moved his foot away.
“Do you hear that?” Egill asked, gesturing toward the door. “You couldn’t leave if you wanted to.”
“We’ll use him,” Two Dogs said. “If he wants to be king, we can ransom his life for safe passage.”
“Don’t be a coward. Not now! Not after everything we’ve sacrificed.”
Trumpets blared from outside. They sounded like they came from beyond the city limits. Egill and Two Dogs stared at the barricaded door. Only Sven seemed to understand.
“They’re here! The Corlains are here!”
Two Dogs listened to the trumpets. The signal was one he remembered hearing before the battle at the ring fortress.
“We must get out of here,” Two Dogs said.
Any response Egill would have given was swallowed by the sound of musket fire. The gunfire was soon joined by the terrified screams of the villagers living in Wyrmcrest soon joined the cacophony. The two Vikisotes removed the barricade covering the only exit. They raced out and were immediately cut down by musket balls. Two Corlain skirmishers charged in with swords drawn. Egill engaged both.
He smashed the shaft of his axe into the helmet of the first Corlain and pushed him back out the door. As the man stood again, Egill chopped his axe into the belly of the second Corlain, who fell with Egill’s weapon sticking out from his body. Egill reached to recover it when the first Corlain tackled him.
The two men rolled on the floor. The Corlain ended on top of Egill. The Corlain pulled a dagger and thrust for Egill’s chest. The Vikisote commander threw his hands up and squeezed against the Corlain’s wrists. The Corlain had the advantage of weight and position. He pushed harder. The dagger scratched at his leather armor. The Corlain was thrown off Egill with a tomahawk sticking out from the side of his helmet. Egill grabbed the Corlain’s discarded dagger and stabbed the wounded man multiple times.
“Egill!” Two Dogs screamed.
Egill looked at Two Dogs moments before a sword pierced his chest. Egill looked at the bloody sword point with disdain. He sobbed as the blade wiggled itself free. Egill fell, dead. Two Dogs stared at his killer.
The Corlain was important, judging by the red decorations on her helmet.
“Stand down,” the woman said.
She pointed the bloody sword at Two Dogs. He watched as Egill’s blood dripped free. All he had left to defend himself with was his igsidian knife.
“Corlain bitch!” Sven screamed.
Two Dogs had forgotten about his prisoner. Apparently, the Corlains hadn’t seen him either. It was a shock for Two Dogs, the female Corlain commander, and the six others who had poured into the longhouse when Sven impaled her with a long spear. One of the Corlains fired his musket. The shot was surprisingly accurate and took a sizeable portion of Sven’s head off. He fell dead as the Corlain commander wheezed.
Three Corlains aimed muskets at Two Dogs while the other three removed the commander’s helmet. Two Dogs dropped his knife and raised his hands. He didn’t want to die without being accepted by Mother Turklyo again. If he resisted, that was the only likely outcome.
The Corlains gave water to their commander. She had dark skin and a determined look in her eyes. Two Dogs doubted she’d survive, but she looked just tempted enough to prove him wrong.
“Make sure he gets back to Ekundayo,” the commander said.
“Yes, ma’am,” one of the Corlains assisting her said.
The commander didn’t survive long after that. The Corlains moved toward Two Dogs as one enraged pack. Two Dogs held his hands and closed his eyes. The first blow was across the face. The next landed on his stomach and doubled him over. At some point, he was thrown to the floor. He stopped counting the number of kicks and stomps all over his body.
After several minutes, the Corlains forcefully lifted his beaten body from the floor and carried him outside. The sun was fierce. Two Dogs wished he could have covered his eyes. They were puffy. He suspected soon they’d swell enough they’d cover themselves.
“Where’s Colonel Zoya?” a Corlain asked.
“She’s dead,” one of the women carrying him said. “Go inside and get her body. The Vikisote leadership was in there too. Get their bodies. We’ll present them to Ekundayo.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the first Corlain said.
“Don’t worry,” the new Corlain leader said to Two Dogs. “You’ll get to meet Ekundayo too. Wagon!”
Two Dogs hung his head as they carried him to the prison wagon. The Corlains tossed him inside. He hit the barred walls and yelped when the Corlains accidentally slammed his left ankle in the door.
“Watch your feet, Namerian,” the Corlain said.
A few of the soldier’s peers laughed at the joke. Two Dogs nursed his broken ankle. That word no longer had power over him. He’d allowed his friends to die because of that word. Two Dogs rolled onto his side and cried in the fetal position.
chapter 22
Two Dogs woke with a stiff neck, back, and everything else. Thankfully, someone must have taken pity on him; his ankle now had a splint. His prison wagon was the first of dozens. They were all in a line on the main road taking them south through Vikisoteland.
The summer sun beat down on Two Dogs and his wagon. The iron bars that made his prison gathered the heat and made it too painful for Two Dogs to lean against them. He sat on wooden boards in the center of the wagon. He was wary every time he moved of the potential for splinters.
Talking wasn’t allowed for the Corlain prisoners. Two Dogs tried once to shout at the wagon behind him, but it prompted the Corlains to pull to the side and beat him. They were weak men and women, but since they’d stripped him of all igsidian, he wasn’t able to ignore the blows as easily. Not that it would have mattered. His predicament was more proof Mother Turklyo hadn’t forgiven him. Two Dogs hung his head and wept again.
Over the course of weeks, the road transitioned from a simple dirt road to a paved one as they traveled south. The border of Vikisoteland and the expanded Corla seemed to be the arbitrary boundary that marked this. Despite Two Dogs’ hatred for Corla, he appreciated the fact that more trees blocked the road from the vicious sun. The weather and the road changes weren’t the only ones that Two Dogs noted.
All his life, Two Dogs had lived in a small village. The Lacreechee tribe wasn’t as large as nation tribes like the Belloots had been. A few dozen tipis were all it took to keep his people safe from weather. The Vikisotes had their longhouses, but even Hafoca’s capital had been small compared to the cities that appeared when they were hundreds of miles deep into Corla.
The streets were paved and well maintained. As each day turned to night, Two Dogs saw metal poles that shined light on the top. It helped keep the city lively well past the point most should have been asleep. The homes of common citizens were luxurious by Two Dogs’ standards. The stone buildings were tall with several families stacked inside.
Two Dogs watched with curiosity as Corlain civilians walked or rode their horses to another building and handed out items in exchange for the coins that Ancestors’ Hand had spoken of. They shined either yellow or gray. They didn’t look worth anything, but people protected the small pouches that held them more than they did their own children.
After a month in the carriage, Two Dogs was relieved to be moved out of his cell for something beyond a five-minute break to purge his guts. The city was massive. Easily ten thousand people must have lived there. They looked at Two Dogs with curiosity and fear. A few children mimed executing him with either their fingers or toy muskets. Two Dogs bared his teeth; all but the bravest scampered back to their parents. It brought a rap to his knuckles by the Corlains escorting him, but it was worth it.
“Move, Namerian,” the guard said.
Two Dogs obeyed. He limped but forced himself to keep from grimacing. His ankle was mostly healed, but it was still weak. He held his head high and followed the directions of his tormentors. He expected to be taken to Ekundayo. Likely the Corlain leader lived in one of the homes with windows that stacked six high. Instead, Two Dogs found himself digging his heels in and trying to keep from being thrown into the mouth of a demon.
The monster was metal, like everything else in this country. It was longer than any snake Two Dogs had ever seen. It reminded Two Dogs of a segmented bug like a millipede or a centipede. It stretched for what seemed to be miles. The monster had a long tube standing on top of the front of it. Corlain soldiers and civilians laughed at Two Dogs and mocked him. He didn’t understand why they’d be so comfortable around the beast until he saw that it was nothing more than another form of transportation.
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