Sigrun Wellborn watched the hunter ride ahead to speak with the old mad king. She wondered at how far off track her life had gone. She had been a girl with aspirations of becoming the first female Kingsguard in a line of Kingsguards, her father having served the throne as his father before him. When Tythos had taken the throne, he had taken more than just the throne. The mad king, openly and widely acknowledged as being out of his mind, had wandered with his army of northmen from kingdom to kingdom, conquering. He had become king of six of the seven kingdoms, dispelling their magic by disavowing their gods.

She was not in her third decade yet, but she was old enough to have seen the world changed beyond recognition. All of her plans for who she was going to be, for what she wanted to be, had been dashed, reforged, and dashed again. She knew that without the hunter, their party would not survive the trip. And so she could not let him leave.

She wondered at that. Was telling him the truth about her orders the solution? Or should she keep her orders to the fullest of her ability and kill the man? She shook her head. The gently falling snow was a welcome relief to the reality of bugs that existed on the road.

Sigrun had continued to serve at the pallace after Tythos had ensured that she would. He had even seated the old king back upon the throne, at the end, having not killed him, but instead imprisoned him. He had killed most of the other monarchs. He had also managed to start riots in almost every city that he had taken control of. He was widely thought to be the most violently dangerous event that the world had ever seen. This man had burned the world down.

Sigrun knew that she should hate him. It's what the rest of the world had chosen to do. People who had never met him hated him. They hated his evil, vile, corrupt nature. They labeled him as the tyrant, the mad king, the scourge of the seven kingdoms, amongst other things. But having gotten stuck getting to know the man when he had taken over High-Fall, her kingdom, she could not now bring herself to hate him.

She shook her head. If only life were so easy. If only it were good versus evil. She would be good. Tythos would be evil. She would slay him and be rewarded. She would be righteous. She would be noble. She would wear her righteousness on her chest like a badge and carry it forward into the shining dawn. A tear stung her eye, and she blinked hard, trying to wipe away the sentimentality. Her father would disapprove. She straightened in the saddle.

Life was not so clear. Life was dirty and cruel and full of pain and heartbreak, and you still had to get up and find a reason to move forward or give up and lay down and die.

No.

In spite of everything, Sigrun still had a job to do. She was to deliver Tythos to Thonos Gap. She was to ensure that he reforged the pact, and she was going to, whether he liked it or not, use him to ensure the protection of the kingdom.

Sigrun deflated. Those were fancy thoughts for fancy deeds, and she had no idea how she was going to get it done.

The hunter, Bird, reined in beside Tythos, breaking Sigrun out of her reverie. She watched, curious what the man would do. What was he looking for up there, speaking with Tythos Tyrannus Rex? Some sort of closure, she guessed.

She remembered her grandmother's words. “People are like the tides,” she had said. “They always come back to a thing, whether they want to or not. All you have to do is expose a person to something, and then they will return. They can't help it. Those that fight it are like the ships that don't turn. They sink. But those that go with it, that ride the waves—they're the ones that will make it through the storm. When you find yourself going back, turn your head towards it. Don't turn away. Otherwise, you'll be the one who sinks too.”

Sigrun wondered if this was like that. Was the hunter going to confront the tyrant king because he had to come back rather than turn away? In truth, Sigrun wasn't sure that she knew what her grandma's words had meant, but she remembered them nonetheless. She tried to follow advice when she heard it, but too much of the world didn't play by the rules. Her father didn't stay alive. Her mother she had never met. Her kingdom didn't continue running. The magic she had practiced had been taken. The life she had wanted had disappeared. And then when she had settled into a life ten years after the tyrant had disappeared, she had been snatched up and given a secret mission and torn away once again from everything that she had built.

Sigrun looked down at her hand, which was now missing two thirds of the ring finger. She ran her thumb over the healed stump of the finger and sighed. She’d lost a finger today and that was the least of her problems. She’d lost the old withered hand and since she coudln’t tell Bird where they were going, she’d lost their hunter. Now, since Tythos had jumped down Peony’s throat like a seasoned sergeant, she had the creeping suspicion she’d lost command of her group.

The two men in the lead stopped their horses, clear tension between them. She hadn’t expected them to fight. Bird drew his dagger and Sigrun cursed, urging her horse to a gallop. She ignored the shouted questions from the three she’d been riding beside, focused on getting to the pair in front of her. Before she got to them, she heard screams coming from further down the road.

***

Bird had visions of a giant wolverine tearing its way through a farmhouse as he raced down the road. The last time he’d heard screams like this had been in the war. He glanced at the man he was riding into trouble with.

Tythos was not a tall man, but he was solid. He was shorter than Bird and still clearly outweighed him. From the way he handled the animal, he also knew horses.

The falling snow had begun to limit visibility and Bird slowed his horse as they approached the curve in the road. Tythos urged his horse to more speed and rode straight off the road, instead of trying to take the curve. Bird followed at a slower pace, unsure if Tythos knew what he was doing or had just killed his horse.

Sigrun caught up with him as he approached the place Tythos had left the road. Strain had pulled her features tight and she was sitting her horse like she was tied to a board. Tight lipped, she gave him a curt nod, and he took the lead.

There was a footpath at the place Tythos had disappeared. A worn dirt trail that softened the drop down from the road toward a stream. Descending the slope, Bird came to a shallow crossing. Stones had been built up to slow the water and sand had settled where the stream spread out. There was no sign of Tythos except for hoof-prints in the bank on the other side. It was a miracle his horse hadn’t broke a leg or thrown him at the speed he’d been riding.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Crossing the water and coming up the other side, Bird and Sigrun broke from the trees that grew around the wash into an open field. The screaming cut off abruptly. They urged their horses to a trot as Bird followed the trail Tythos had left. He had to squint against the snow to see anything, and the hoof-prints were filling up fast. This was weird weather for this time of year.

***

Bird left the field, entering a farmyard, the low visibility causing it to loom up suddenly. Bird’s horse knickered and danced a couple steps before he pulled it around. Something had spooked it. Sigrun’s horse had a different reaction, blowing and pulling at the reigns. Bird dismounted from his nervous animal and saw what had spooked it. There was a dead man lying at the edge of the yard.

Bird crushed some herbs he carried and ran a finger over the animal’s nose. His horse visibly calmed and he was able to let go of the reigns without the creature bolting. Sigrun rode past, drawing her sword.

The dead man was a soldier. One of the King’s men. The ground told the story of what happened. The man had been hit by something heavy. It had pounced and landed on him. Then his skull had been crushed. Bird shook his head. These men normally had helmets. This man’s was missing.

Following Sigrun further into the yard, Bird stumbled into something out of a nightmare. There were almost a dozen dead, and it took him a moment to see the pattern of what had happened. His mind began to make sense of it, and things began to present themselves. His mouth twisted into a hard line as they did.

There were four people lying in a neat row, all of them face-down. They were wearing simple clothes. One man and three children. They were bound hand and foot, and they’d all been on their knees. They’d had their throats cut. Further on, a woman lay in similar condition. She would have been facing the four if she was still upright. She’d been made to watch.

Bird hurried toward the house, stepping past three soldiers. The ground around them was torn up, like they’d been fighting each other. One was dead of a sword wound, one had his skull stoved in like the first man, and the third was still alive. He was jerking and his breathing was bad. He was trying to crawl away. Bird turned him over.

The soldier’s throat had been crushed. His eyes were wild, unseeing. They rolled in his head like a panicked horse. He was gasping in shallow breaths, pink bubbles forming with each shaky exhalation. This man was already dead, his body just hadn’t accepted it yet. Bird moved quickly toward the log house.

Three figures stood on the structure’s low slung porch. Sigrun, her sword still out, and Tythos standing close to a soldier with his back against the wall. Sigrun was covering Tythos with her sword, clearly on the edge. Bird hurried forward, things becoming clearer when he got to the edge of the porch.

The soldier was not leaning against the wall. He was pinned to it by a sword thrust through his gut. He had both hands on the blade, which were bleeding freely even as he squeezed the blade impaling him. Tythos had an ear cocked close to the man, who was trying to say something. A soldier’s helmet was tied onto Tythos’s stump by the chinstraps. It was dripping blood onto the porch.

Sigrun had her sword pointed at Tythos, who seemed to be paying her no mind. Bird watched the blood drip from the helmet for a moment. He blinked, focusing.

“What—“ he stopped short as Tythos held up a finger.

“Tell them what you just told me,” Tythos said.

“We were following orders,” the soldier said, his voice was strained; hard to hear. He looked down at the sword sticking out of his gut. He let out a low whimper.

He began to fall forward over the sword. Tythos pushed him back against the wall, hard. The man’s helmeted head clunked against the wall. He looked away from the sword and up at Tythos.

“What were your orders?” Tythos asked.

The soldier flicked a glance at Sigrun and licked his lips. He shook his head.

“Our orders are sealed,” he said.

Tythos bounced his head off the wall again, “Unseal them for me.”

“I can’t,” the soldier said in a choked whisper.

Tythos grabbed the soldier’s jerkin and pulled him forward. The soldier cried out.

“Focus on me,” Tythos was practically growling. “What orders were you given,” Tythos slammed the soldier back against the wall, “that caused you to come into my valley,” Tythos jerked the man forward, “and begin,” Tythos slammed him back, “Executing,” Pull, “Children!” Salm!

“Stop it!” Sigrun shouted.

Tythos turned his snarling wrath on her, “You stay out of this! He’a member of your King’s army sent here to kill children! You’ll be lucky if I don’t treat you as party to this!”

Sigrun took a step forward, “You’re right, he is part of my army and I’m taking charge of him.”

Tythos gave her a dangerous look, the same look he’d given Bird before. “I knew these people.” He gestured at the farmers in the yard, “This man’s life is mine. Step away.”

Sigrun hesitated and Tythos turned back to the man he had hold of. He began to pick the man up. Bird would not have thought it possible, but Tythos began to lift the man, tearing the sword downward through his gut as he did. The soldier began drumming his heels against the wall, his mouth open in a soundless scream.

“Tell me your orders!” Tythos roared.

“Last warning!” Sigrun shouted. “Step away from that soldier!”

Tythos ignored her and lifted the man higher. Bird could see Sigrun was going to go for it. He opened his mouth to forestall her, but she stepped forward and swung her sword. She had a straight sword, not a curved blade, so she was trying to disable. You needed a curved sword to remove limbs or kill with a chop. Tythos seemed to sense her coming and tore the man off the wall and off the sword catching the downward stroke on the man’s shoulder and deflecting the blade. Tythos let go of the man, which yanked the sword from Sigrun’s hand then he kicked her bodily off the porch. She landed in the dirt and rolled.

Tythos bent over the the soldier. The cross guard of the sword had entangled the man’s intestines as he was ripped off of it. They now hung wet and glistening, alien colors to have come from a man. Tythos grabbed a handful of the man’s intestines and yanked, arresting the soldier’s attention like death itself.

“Tell me your orders, or I swear by the gods I’ll drag you behind my horse by your guts until sundown.” Tythos yanked, “I’ll make sure you live long enough to watch me cook them tonight.”

Sigrun sat up, gasping for air after the kick.

The soldier began to sob like a scared child, “Orders were to ride down into this valley and kill every man, woman and child who knew your name.”

Tythos yanked, “Why? Why now?”

“They said…” the man was sobbing so hard it took him several tries to get it out. “Said you’d be gone and we were supposed to removed any trace you’d lived here.”

Sigrun was staring open-mouthed from where she sat in the yard.

“Who issued these orders?”

“I don’t know, it came from too high up. We received a sealed envelope.”

“What were you supposed to do if you found me?”

“I don’t know, there was no contingency in the packet, you were supposed to be gone…”

“When did you receive your orders?”

“Five days ago, we had to push to make it here today.”

“Today?”

“Orders were clear, we had to be here today.”

“Where’d you ride out of?”

“Pallbrook.”

“Who handed you the envelope?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who would know?”

“I don’t know, please… please…”

Tythos let go of the man’s intestines. He grabbed Sigrun’s sword, which was stuck in the meat of the man’s shoulder. With one quick motion he yanked it free and pinned the soldier’s head to the planks of the porch. The movement was so abrupt it startled Bird. The soldier lay twitching.

Tythos stood and walked off the porch, across the yard and into the falling snow. Neither Sigrun nor Bird moved to stop him. Sigrun got slowly to her feet, looking more shaken than hurt.

Bird looked at the carnage in the yard around him. He hadn’t been that far behind Tythos. His eyes were dragged inexorably back to the mess Tythos had made of the man on the porch. Sigrun stepped up beside him, staring at the same thing.

“What have you gotten us tangled up in?” Bird asked, not taking his eyes off the porch.

***