CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
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Jameson Wicket
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30th of Decepter, 935 PC
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Wicket blinked, rubbed his eyes, blinked some more, then shook his head in disbelief. Kneeling next to a small stream in the middle of Howler's Wood was Gladys Hallstone. She wore hunting clothes and carried a shortbow on her back, though Wicket reckoned it wasn’t for hunting as much as men who could charm her son right out from under her nose. She finished examining something in the dirt and stood, staring into the distance before calling out to a boy that was hundreds of miles across the empire.
“Maddy! Maddy, sweetie, are you out there? Maddy, it’s time to come home!”
Before Wicket had charmed her, he’d spoken with her until he could get her alone. She’d welcomed Elgar and him to her pub with a free ale. Gave Elgar a cigar too. There’d been strength in her voice then. She’d spoken as though she and she alone defended the entire village of Coyne from men like Wicket. Now, she sounded shattered and desperate.
“What’s wrong, Wick?” Yormir asked, kneeling beside him behind the tree. “You’re pale as a ghost.”
“That woman there should be dead.” He pictured Diedro creeping up behind the woman.
Camila asked who the woman was from the roots she sat on behind them.
A part of Wicket was glad to tell the woman what her father had done, another part of him knew she wouldn’t be surprised. Then there was the part that knew she’d assume Wicket had been involved. “Maddy’s mum.”
“The boy from the inn?” she said.
“Mmmhmm. Your father had Diedro do…. Well… what Diedro’s good at. But-”
Lace walked out from behind the tree he’d been pissing on and made sure he was part of the conversation like he liked to do. “But she’s right there. Sounds like Alaric gathered up a bunch of fucking fools that don’t understand what we’re trying to accomplish.”
Yormir laughed and flicked his smoke stick into the snow. “Wouldn’t let him hear ya say that.”
“You think I’m scared of a man who can move fast?” Lace asked The Old Wolf.
“Don’t see why you wouldn’t be,” Yormir said.
“Is a boulder afraid of a man slashing at it with his sword?” Lace said.
Yormir shrugged. “Doubt it, but he’d kill ya way before it ever got to that.”
“Why’d Sampson want her dead?” Ashe asked, not caring to listen to men be men any longer.
Wicket shrugged. He seldom knew the reason for any of Alaric’s choices. He just did as he was told so his spine didn’t end up in ten different pieces.
“Because my father is a paranoid prick.” Camila stood and made to move toward the hill leading to Mrs. Hallstone but Lace stopped her by putting his big frame in front of her which made Wicket’s hand on her wrist look more than a bit underwhelming. He let go.
“You can’t go down there,” Lace said.
“Why not? I can tell her where her son is. Stop her worrying.”
Yormir plopped down on the most comfortable root he could find. “All you could do is make things worse. Think about what you’d tell her. That her baby boy is on the other side of the empire with strangers. One of which might be the biggest man in the world and another kills people for a living. Would ya want your son off adventuring with men like that?”
“Garth and Shade are both good men. Neither would hurt Maddy. And he has Narah,” Camila said.
“Is that the hard woman?” Ashe asked. “Angry face, thick brows?”
Yormir chuckled. “Aye. Real motherly.”
“Reckon Camila’s right though. Think we oughta let her know her boy’s in good hands. We don’t have t’tell her who he’s with exactly,” Wicket said, looking at Lace right away to see how big of a fight they’d be getting in this time. He’d never met a man who’s thinking differed so greatly from his own. He didn’t even fight with Elgar this much. Or maybe he did but because he liked him it was easier to forget about.
As expected Lace turned his focus on Wicket to give his side of the argument. “It’s a waste of time. All she’ll want is our help and we can’t do anything for her.” Easy for him to say, he hadn’t been walking around with a wagonful of guilt weighing on his conscience for a fortnight. “Besides, what's to say she doesn’t decide she wants you dead when you tell her what you did? I know I would.”
“Better t’know your kin is alive than lose your mind wonderin’,” Wicket said. “I’m going down there.” Lace stepped in front of him now, blocking his view of Mrs. Hallstone completely.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
“Wick,” Yormir said. “Ya can’t even guarantee the boy’s alive.”
That there was a suckerpunch full of truth.
“I could at least-” The shake of Yormir’s head stopped Wicket before he got to sounding too pathetic. “Fine.”
When Lace moved, Mrs. Hallstone was gone. It sent an eerie feeling creeping down the back of his neck. They all glanced around the woods. “Smell her?” Wicket asked Yormir.
“Headin’ back toward the village. Which, I gotta say, I wouldn’t mind headin’ that way too. Could use some rum and smoke sticks.”
“You drank all that rum?’ Ashe asked. “Must have been six bottles in your saddlebags.”
“You should see me when I’m not trying to be responsible,” Yormir said. “Anyone else up for a night’s rest in a real bed?”
To Wicket’s surprise Lace had no objection to that idea. Though, he did have something to say. “As long as we keep the court jester away from the mum.”
“Ya know what,” Wicket said, stepping straight toward Lace.
“What?” Lace said, meeting him halfway. He wasn’t quite as big as Garth, but he was damn close.
Wicket gathered himself, shooing away the second thoughts. “Reckon I’ve had enough of your fuckin’ mouth. Ya think you’re somethin’ special with your muscles and your sword, don’t ya?”
“I know I’m something special,” Lace said, looking down at Wicket.
One of them stunk of rum and smoke. He reckoned it was him, but he told himself it was Lace.
“I-” Wicket was on his ass before he got another word out. Just like by the river. Only this time, his mouth was throbbing and bleeding. He wouldn’t dare give Lace the satisfaction of watching him rub it though. Good lords, that hurt. It’d been awhile since he’d been punched. Especially in the kisser. He thought about not getting up but what message would that send? The one Lace wanted everyone to see.
Camila stepped to Lace while Wicket gestured for Yormir to help him up.
“What’s your problem? Don’t you understand we’re all working together?!” Camila said.
Lace let out a laugh you don’t hear unless something was so far from funny someone was slapping their knee in sarcasm. “You think he’s working with us? He used to fuck the Lotus Queen! Has a daughter with her. He killed Purists for her and won’t kill Lotus for us! No matter what way you spin this man he’s a dirty fuckin’ traitor. It’s written in the sand, the rest of you just won’t read it.” His eyes were burning so hot they might catch the forest on fire. “And why do you think we haven’t seen a single Lotus except the one he let go? You think that cunt would send Lotus after him… Either she knows what we’re planning on doing or she knows he’ll take care of us on his own before he runs back to her like the coward he is.”
“That’s where you’re wrong?” Yormir said. No matter what the situation, he never sounded serious. “Iris hates Wick’s fuckin’ guts. She’d rip his magic outta his chest just as soon as she would the rest of us.”
“Well, he don’t feel that way about her,” Lace said. “You can see it in his eyes when you say her name.” He stepped past Camila like she was a feather floating in the breeze. “I should kill you right now.” His hand went to the pummel of his greatsword.
One second Wicket was holding his breath as he watched the sunlight reflect off the silver blade Lace had drawn, the next, he was staring at a ten foot high wall of rock and dirt that cut through Howler’s Wood like a fence put up to keep a bad neighbor at bay. He could hear Lace berating his brother on the other side with words so strong they made Yormir uncomfortable and that man knew his way around a good rant. Berating turned into screaming; Ashe yelling in pain, Camila yelling in fear.
Wicket wiped his mouth and spread the blood all across his cloak. “I gotta get over this wall.”
“Can’t let ya do that, Wick,” Yormir said, trying his best to ignore what was happening.
“What the fuck are ya talkin’ about? He’s gonna kill him.”
“Right. And he’ll kill you too if you go over that wall. Ya mean too much to all this to get killed by one of your own.” He glanced at the wall. “Figure this might be a good time to cut and run, don’t you?”
For a moment, Wicket liked what he was hearing but then Camila’s pleas grew louder. Wicket’s gut twisted tighter with each shriek.
“I’m sorry,” Wicket said, letting magic flow through him. Yormir’s uncomfortable wincing became a mindless grin as he waited on his orders. “Hey good fella, come gimme a boost. Quick.” Yormir rushed to him like a well trained pup, lacing his finger for Wicket to step into. “One. Two. Three!” He jumped, aided by Yormir’s surprising strength. The Old Wolf helped some more as he pushed Wicket up as high as he could. When Wicket got his leg swung over the top of the wall he froze, watching Camila shout as she stood between the brothers. Ashe was propped up against the wall he’d created. The slouch in his shoulders said he might be unconscious. Or dead.
Before Wicket started to move, Camila lunged at Lace. The warrior threw her to the ground with a furious shove. Watching Camila stumble and fall in a heap brought back the worst memory of Wicket’s life. For a second he thought it was Iris laying on the cobblestone street all those years ago.
“You,” Wicket said. Lace’s eyes were only angry for a second before Wicket’s magic got him. Wicket dropped to the ground without an ounce of fear and only a few drops of bad balance. “You fuckin’ bastard.” Even though he knew it couldn’t be true, he couldn’t help but think the smile on Lace’s face as an assholish smirk. “You. Fucking! Bastard!”
Even under Wicket’s control, ramming into Lace was like tackling a tree. His whole body jolted at impact but he got the fucker down. Got to rolling down the hill too though. It was a lot steeper than it looked a minute ago. He rolled and tumbled, slammed into a tree, a real one. not Lace, then tumbled some more before he finally came to a sliding stop in the crunchy snow and dry leaves. He’d heard his bow snap somewhere along the way but that meant nothing to him right now. He pushed himself up, aching all over, and drew his dagger. He spit blood and phlegm and started thinking about all the men he’d kill over the years. These days that usually slowed his temper down a little, made him think about how he wanted to put all that behind himself, but right now it sent him over the edge. Right now, there was a red sheet of rage over his eyes.
Lace stayed face down on the cold ground, waiting for his master to tell him what to do. Good thing the warrior couldn’t fight back because Wicket was breathing so hard he thought his lungs might pop by the time he got to Lace. He straddled the man and dropped to a knee. He had a fistful of hair a second later. When he yanked back Lace let out a grunt. Wicket didn’t even think about it. He couldn’t stop if he wanted to. He slid that steel son of a bitch across Lace’s throat so hard and fast he thought the head might go rolling down the hill but nothing happened. No puddle of blood. No gurgling. Nothing. “Damn skin. Roll over.” Lace did as he was told. No questions asked. There wasn’t even a scratch where the blade had swiped. Must have been using it before I got a hold of him.
Someone watching might have thought Wicket came up with a plan awfully quickly but he’d thought about this before he fell asleep every night since Gella’s Ring. He’d figured the son of a bitch might be hard as a rock when he finally snapped. He probably could have just told the cunt to close his soul but that wasn’t good enough – he wanted this man to suffer. So, he put the blade in the only place he could, right through the eye, buried it deep too, all the way to the hilt. Then, for good measure, he did it again.