9

LET GO

They brought me out into the snow, into the gardens, where they stood around me like a pack of watchful dogs. No need for that, I had no intention of running or trying to fight. I examined a violet flower, reaching out to touch its petals. Beautiful. I was beginning to understand Islana’s love for them.

“Who asked you to come for me?” I said. I didn’t really expect them to answer me but I wanted to converse. “Who are we waiting for?”

“You’ll see,” one grunted, a fellow with a beard dyed a bright, bloody red.

“Right,” I said. I turned around and stuck out my tongue, catching snow. “What’s your name?” I was surprised I didn’t already know it, that he didn’t stick out in my memory, considering just how impressively long that beard was.

“Hadrik.”

“Hadrik,” I murmured. “Sounds familiar. You came, what was it, third in wrestling…last year, yes?”

“The year before.” Hadrik looked at me. “You bested me.”

“Did it? I don’t remember.”

Hadrik grunted again, crossed his arms.

“Do you pray?” I asked. “To the real gods. To any gods, for that moment.”

“Aye. I pray.”

“Every day?”

“Every day. Why do you ask?”

I stared up into the distance, at the snow-capped mountains. “And do you believe in vampyres? What about direwolves, or faeries? What about the Vald?”

“Faeries, yes,” he said. “But that might just be wishful thinking.”

Laughter from the others. The man to my right, a giant, said, “I met a faerie once. In fact, she slipped right into my bedroll while I was trying to sleep. Didn’t mind, of course.”

Hadrik scowled. “Might’ve just been Arghen over there. He gets cold sometimes.”

Arghen, to my left, turned red. “Wait a second—”

“I’m asking,” I said, “because I’m wondering about the possibility that the king was killed by something inhuman.”

Silence. They all shifted uncomfortably, Hadrik clearing his throat. Arghen crossed his hands and mouthed a prayer. I mostly took their silence as at least a partial admission of belief, since to even talk about such things as the Vald and vampyres was to draw their attention.

The off-beat tapping of a staff against the weathered stone path heralded Magoran’s approach. Of course it was Magoran I’d been waiting for, who else?

He clicked his tongue as he approached, shaking his head as though I were a disappointing child. He waved the men away with his free hand, said, “Sigmund, I always knew you weren’t much of a thinker, but your recent activity is beyond stupid. Please, please, why don’t you try and explain it to me. What are you doing?”

I looked at him levelly, hands by my side. They hadn’t taken my sword away, and now Magoran was unguarded. The warriors would be close by, but not close enough to save the old bastard if I wanted to deliver him to the Screaming Tree. He was well aware of this, and clearly didn’t care. I resented that.

“I was speaking to the queen,” I said. “The former queen, that is. I had questions to ask her. Regarding the king’s death, of course. As First Blade, it occurred to me that I have a responsibility to—”

“You’re a bore, truly. I don’t care for your excuses.” He leaned in, oh, he liked to get nice and close, a dangerous game he was playing. One of these days I’d do something about it. “You’re starting to make it far too obvious, Sigmund.”

“I’m not sure what—”

“You, the queen. Your affair.” This last word hissed out as though it were poison, and it hung heavy in the frigid air between us. I tensed up, fingers twitching.

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Did you do it?” I asked. “Did you kill Emrik?”

Magoran rolled his eyes up toward the gray sky. “Gods have mercy on me. The foolishness I must deal with…truly exhausting.” He stabbed a bony finger in my direction. “This isn’t a conversation. This is me telling you what’s going to happen. You will not attempt to see Islana again. I will instruct everyone in the palace to kill you on the spot if they see you close to the dungeons. You will do your duty, Sigmund, and nothing else. Protect our young king. I have a feeling in my bones that he will grow to be a great man. It’s your job to ensure no harm comes to him.” Again, that finger pointing in my face. “Nothing but your duty. I repeat myself so that you will have no excuse for disobedience. You’re not cunning enough for anything else, anyway.”

Again, that urge to strike him down, to tear out his throat with my teeth. Probably he saw me wrestling with those thoughts because he frowned, glanced over at his guards, who were moving slowly through the garden.

“Duty only,” I said. “I understand.”

“Islana will die,” Magoran said softly. “And that’s unfortunately just the way it is. I don’t know why she did what she did, but she’ll answer to the divine in the next world. Perhaps there was some sense to her actions and she won’t end up hanging from the Screaming Tree…but, well, that’s not for us to decide, is it?”

There wasn’t much for either of us to say after that. He indicated that I was free to go, and so I strode out of the gardens without looking back. I didn’t know where I was going, a common theme of the last few days. I was tired enough that it was easy to believe that this —all of this— was nothing but a dream.

Snow fell as though in spite, resuming its attempt to smother the world just as I took to the streets. No, it did not feel as though the gods were on my side.

#

Leotin was an easy man to find. If he wasn’t brawling in the streets with strangers or finding his way into stranger’s beds, he was at a beer house informally known as The Shore, because it was where old, worn down warriors tended to wash up.

Covered in snow and shivering with the cold, I entered The Shore and was greeted with the combined heat of a roaring fireplace and the warmth of several dozen bodies crammed into a small space. Heads swiveled in my direction, scarred faces weighing me up before turning back to their drinks.

Leotin was sitting where he always sat. He’d reserved the far right corner for himself, not because he particularly liked the spot, but because it was a popular place to sit and it gave him an easy excuse to fight anyone who took it knowingly or not. He was on his own tonight, nursing a giant jug of beer, a wolf pelt draped across his shoulders. The Shore had a low ceiling, and even seated, Leotin’s size was such that his head wasn’t far off grazing the rafters. His bulk crammed into the corner made for a comical sight.

I waded through the crowd of drinking men and slid into the seat opposite Leotin. He scowled, then saw who I was and relaxed. “Sigmund! Been a while since you graced this fine establishment with your presence.”

“We need to talk.”

Leotin’s cheer melted away. “Oh no.”

“Leotin, I need you.”

“Ah, fuck.” He raised his jug to his mouth, tilted his head back, and downed the contents. Then he banged the empty vessel against the wooden table, the universal summons for more.

“At least have a drink first,” Leotin said.

“I need one,” I said. I wasn’t actually in the mood, but turning down a drink wasn’t a good way to earn Leotin’s favor.

Fresh jugs of beer were promptly slid in front of us. I paid for both and took a sip. Leotin’s face was flushed, his eyes unfocussed, so he’d been there for a while. I hated to interrupt his relaxation time with such dire news but the truth was, I had no one else to talk to, no one to confide in. And I had the feeling that I was going to need someone by my side.

Leotin and I had been through a lot together. Still, reeling him into a world in which the Vald were real and out to get us was far beyond anything I’d asked of him before. It wasn’t fair. If I was a better man, I’d leave him out of it and face the darkness on my own. But then, Leotin wasn’t one to ever turn down a fight.

“So,” Leotin grunted. “Talk to me.”

I cleared my throat, and then I told him everything.

His expression became increasingly sullen as I talked. His mouth became a narrow line, and he continued to drink until the next jug was empty. Instead of calling for another, he crossed his arms and stared at me, his concentration never wavering. I could see him sobering up in real time as my story came closer to its conclusion. When I was finished, ending with my last conversation with Magoran, I leaned back and waited for him to say something.

Leotin exhaled. “I see.”

“You believe me?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his chin, rough skin against stubble. “Do you remember that one time we went out hunting with Disus? It was just the three of us. Right in the middle of winter, as I recall. I never told you, but during one of the nights we were out there, when the two of you were alive and I was drinking by the fire, I saw a deer. Young and strong. Beautiful creature. I reached for my bow. And I remember it stood by the treeline and just stared at me. We looked at each other for…” he shrugged. “I don’t know how long. Then it moved, and I realized it was walking strangely, and there was something wrong with one of its legs. I remember thinking to myself, is that an eye? Right there in its leg?” He chuckled grimly. “I thought I was just seeing things. I forgot about the whole thing. Your story reminded me.”

I was quiet, watching my friend closely, gauging his state of being.

“What do we do?” Leotin said.

The words I’d been waiting to hear.

I couldn’t stop the relieved smile that broke across my face. “I love you.”

Leotin just grunted.

“We track down Islana’s bodyguard,” I said. “He was with her.”

“And what if he’s ended up like Kitan?”

That was what I was worried about. I said, “Then at the very least we have confirmation that the Vald is taking out the witnesses.”

“She said that they don’t like fire,” Leotin said. “So I reckon we ought to bring some along.”