Winds of Fate Read online

The knight sighed. We were about to part ways with the guards and head toward the tavern to grab Flosy when a simple thought occurred to me.

  “Atly, what about this?” I called to the guard, who was walking toward the group of wives crying over the remains in the cart. “You haven’t had any strangers stopping by, but what about people you know? Has anyone visited in the last few days?”

  “Of course,” Atly quickly replied. “Ingvar, the könig’s confidant, came by for a visit. He got here last night, spoke with the rix about something, and then got his things together and left. The rix followed him out the gate soon after.”

  “Huh, Ingvar!” I snapped my fingers. “That’s important. Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

  Atly stared at me. “But he’s Ingvar, close to the könig, his right hand. What did you want me to say about him?”

  “You’re not wrong that he’s close to the könig, but it’s still strange. He comes, has a chat with the rix, and then the latter up and runs off before being found in little pieces the next day.”

  “Just a coincidence,” Atly replied assuredly. “Ingvar wouldn’t betray the könig. He’s saved the könig’s life on several occasions, and he’d slit your throat for looking sideways at the könig. Everyone knows that.”

  He turned and walked off in the direction of the cart.

  I watched him go before looking at Gunther. “It’s great that he’s that confident, but we still need to check things out. Let’s go find Flosy and head for the next burg. I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  Gunther was silent, either trusting my opinion or keeping his own to himself.

  Flosy was still asleep in the same position under the same table.

  “Laird, maybe we could, you know, just leave him here?” Gunther was not in a hurry to pick Flosy up and carry him through the portal.

  I didn’t disagree with him. “I wish, but the problem is that he’s our ticket to the wharf. We won’t be getting there without him. And what happens if he wakes up and takes off somewhere? Where will we look for him then?”

  “Where would he go?” The knight wasn’t letting the idea go that easily. “He’ll just lie there sleeping, and we can come back for him when we’re done with everything we have to do.”

  “No, no, no!” The tavern owner joined the conversation. “You’ll get him out of here right now! I have enough of my own good-for-nothings without your dung beetle. He stank up the whole tavern already.”

  As if to back him up, Flosy muttered something in his sleep, loudly cut loose a foul-smelling cloud of gas, and smiled placidly.

  “Yeah…” I wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of dragging him out and, in the process, getting his stink on me either. “Innkeeper, bring me a couple pitchers of cold water and a mug of ale. Also, let me know how much we owe you.”

  “What do you need the ale for?” Gunther asked. “He’s already had plenty.”

  “You’ll see.”

  The pitchers of water dumped over Flosy’s head weren’t enough to sober him up completely, of course, though they did at least wake him up. The innkeeper shrieked about how we were getting the whole place wet after already stinking it up, and in the meantime, Flosy sat up, glared at the source of all the noise and then at us, and belted out a few lines to a song. We drunkards get up, up, and go to Gudrun…

  “Give me some ale!”

  I held out the mug with its foam head.

  “Here it is. Take it!”

  Flosy got up on shaky legs and shuffled toward me. I quickly barked an order for Gunther.

  “Out into the courtyard, grab your horse and open the portal!”

  ***

  We found ourselves in the next burg. Flosy stayed in the shadow of the well clutching the mug, even though we told him he wasn’t getting any more money until the end of the trip. We did, however, give in and promise him a five-liter cask if he behaved well. He calmed down and drank his ale before looking around at the girls walking past the well. We left to go talk to the head of the guard.

  In that burg, in the next, and in all the rest, the picture was the same. Ingvar visited each of the rixes right before they set off for a better world, and the only difference was the way they all died. One was eaten, another was poisoned, one more left and never came back. One way or another, seven of the eight burgs were at that moment bereft of their rix. Their heirs, if they had any, were gone as well. We weren’t sure about Ingvar and Hexburg, of course, though the rix was a goner.

  The last burg on our list was Foyrin, where the rix had been reported alive the previous morning. I didn’t have any confidence that that was still the case.

  You finished Cities of the North.

  Reward:

  Title: Connoisseur of the North

  +5% protection from cold

  +1 respect among the peoples of the North

  To see similar messages, go to the Action section of the attribute window.

  That was my second action complete, and it felt great.

  “Gunther, where’s the local government?” I looked around the empty square where we stood. It was completely dark since we’d burned through the evening and it was already the middle of the night. The moon and stars were even hidden. Gunther put his hand on his sword as Flosy shivered in the cold night air. He was sleepy and completely sober.

  “We should drop him off at the local tavern,” I told Gunther. “We’ll be spending the night here regardless.”

  “And we promised him a cask,” von Richter noted fairly.

  “That you did,” confirmed Flosy.

  “We promised, so we’ll buy one for you,” I assured him. “First, though, we have to find the tavern itself. And how are we going to do that when it’s this dark out?”

  “It’s right there.” Flosy pointed toward one of the buildings. “What’s there to look for?”

  “How do you know?” asked Gunther in surprise. “Have you been here?”

  Flosy grunted, annoyed that Gunther doubted his ability to find somewhere they serve alcohol wherever he went.

  “Well done,” I said, impressed.

  We set off in the direction of the tavern, but we didn’t get there. The nighttime silence was broken by screams and cries for help coming from one of the largest buildings in the burg. Even in the darkness, we could tell that it was larger than the rest and stood off by itself.

  “What do you want to bet that that’s where the rix lives?” I yelled at Gunther as we took off running.

  “Why would I want to bet? It’s obvious,” he replied with a grin. His sword rang as he unsheathed it.

  We got to the building before anyone else, but we were still too late. The ragged body of a man dressed in a bloody nightdress flew out of a window on the third floor. That has to be the rix. At least, it was him.

  But whoever killed him was still in the building, and I very much wanted to have a chat with him, so long as he (or it) was capable of having a chat.

  The square quickly filled with half-dressed people holding torches in one hand and weapons in the other. I liked that about the North—leaving the house without pants on was one thing, but nobody dreamed of venturing out into the night without their sword or ax. They were tough people ready for anything.

  “And who might you be?” asked a bearded tough guy wearing a horned helmet. His legs were bare of everything but underwear, but he held a double-bladed ax in his hands.

  Gunther quietly pulled out the disk I’d forgotten to check with him about and asked the man, who’d gone quiet, about the body. “The rix?”

  “Yes,” he replied with a sigh. “He was a coward’s coward, but it’s still a shame. Who could have done that to him?”

  “Whoever it was is still in there,” I answered. “Who lived with the rix?”

  “Nobody; he lived alone,” said someone in the crowd. “He was a loner.”

  “That’s a shame for him, but it works well for us.” I glanced at the crowd before bellowing toward the building at the top of my
lungs. “Hey, you in the building, come on out! You have nowhere to go, and we’ll all come in there and get you! If you talk, you may still have a chance of making it out alive!”

  The roar that echoed back told me that whoever was in there had heard me and decided not to take me up on my offer.

  “Okay, so let’s get in there,” the bearded man said, settling his helmet on his head and readying for battle. “What are we waiting for?”

  “No, we’re going to stay out here,” I replied. “That beast in there wants us to go in because it has the advantage in those dark hallways. We’ll kill it, sure, but it’ll take more than a few of us down with it. I have a better idea. There aren’t any other buildings nearby, are there?”

  “Nope.” He shook his head.

  “Great. In that case, grab some of that hay next to the well, wet it a little, and throw it up by the window. When I give you the signal, light it on fire.”

  “Got it,” grinned the pant-less warrior, who motioned to a few similarly dressed friends and headed over to the pile of hay.

  Five minutes later, everything was ready. The hay was under the windows, people stood ready with torches, and I motioned to Gunther to be ready for battle before shouting out once more, “Hey, you animal! If you don’t come out right now, we’ll set fire to the house and burn you like a candle!”

  I didn’t even get a roar in reply that time, and so, offended by the lack of attention, I waved. “Light them up!”

  None of the torchbearers even had time to light their stack of hay before a dark shadow flew out of a second-floor window and landed ten steps away from me. It looked nasty and incredibly dangerous. Almost two meters tall and covered in gray hair, fangs jutted out of its mouth, and muscles rippled on its legs and arms. It stood on two legs, rocking slowly back and forth as if trying to decide who it would go after first.

  “Powerful,” I heard someone in the crowd say, but there wasn’t an ounce of fear in his voice.

  “Sure is,” I replied, unslinging my shield. “Powerful and terrifying.”

  The creature looked upward and let out a howl or a yell, I wasn’t sure which.

  “That has to be one of Gedran’s beasts,” Gunther noted evenly. He was also ready to fight.

  “Yeah, that goes without saying. It’s just a shame it can’t talk. Anyway, do we have any archers?”

  Nobody answered, but I heard the sound of arrows being strung and pulled back.

  “What are you waiting for? Shoot!” I ordered just as the beast leaped toward us.

  The salvo met it in the air, and, even though not all the arrows found their target, five or so thudded into the shaggy killer. It fell just short of Gunther and me, rolling across the paving stones. A few more arrows flew true until it jerked once and gave up the ghost.

  “Huh,” I said. “It dies like a human. I thought it was going to take forever to kill it…”

  Flosy spat. “Spawn of magic. I need something to drink.”

  The crowd agreed with him and piled into the tavern. The only people left in the square with Gunther and me were our bearded friend, who was pulling on pants he’d gotten from who knows where, and a couple other muscled gentlemen.

  “You should burn that thing,” I told them. “I wouldn’t bury it if I were you.”

  “Of course,” nodded our friend. “My name’s Snorry. I’m the head of security.”

  “Yes, we figured that much out.” I nodded. “Has Ingvar, the könig’s advisor, been here in the past few days?”

  “As it happens, he’s been here twice this week. Once, at the beginning, and then just two days ago. He stayed here for a day and then left.”

  “He stayed?”

  “Yes, he has a house here that he got from his grandmother. Every once in a while, he drops by and spends some time here.”

  Snorry walked away, ordering his guards to bring firewood and fuel oil. I looked at Gunther. “You get it, right?”

  “Of course,” he said with a wry smile. “He brought that beast here, let it stay at his home, and then sent it after the rix because he didn’t want to leave the burg. He only spent the night here to—”

  “Get the monster in under cover of darkness,” I said, continuing his thought.

  “Unthinkable,” von Richter said sadly. “I know him, he’s a good man. Why would he do this?”

  You completed a quest: Disturbing News in the Burgs

  Reward:

  800 experience

  Tearful Goddess Order Medallion

  +5 respect among the peoples of the North

  The next quest in the series

  “Why? If I knew…”

  “Here, Hagen, take this.” Gunther handed me a medallion on a chain. “That’s just in case I’m not around.”

  Tearful Goddess Order Medallion

  The Tearful Goddess Order enjoys immense respect in the North.

  The holder of this medallion has the right to ask any question and get truthful answers from Northerners.

  Requires a friendly relationship with the Tearful Goddess Order

  Class limitation: none

  Minimum level for use: none

  “And here I was trying to figure out what you kept showing everyone,” I exclaimed happily.

  “Only Knights of the Temple get to have these medallions; they aren’t given to regular warrior brothers,” explained Gunther.

  “Thanks, I really appreciate it,” I said with complete sincerity. “Anyway, today definitely hasn’t been a waste.”

  “Certainly. We know who the traitor is,” von Richter replied darkly.

  You have a new quest offer: Speaking Truth to Power

  This is the third in the Secrets of the North series of quests.

  Task: Unmask the traitor in the eyes of König Harald.

  Reward:

  1200 experience

  +7 respect among the peoples of the North

  Reward from the order: variable

  Reward from the könig: variable

  The next quest in the series

  “We’ll tell the könig everything, just not tomorrow,” I said.

  “Why not?” erupted von Richter. “We need to tell him right away!”

  There was no way I could explain to him that I’d be spending the next day with his creator eating shashlik[5] and drinking whiskey.

  “Gunther, you’re getting ahead of yourself. And what does haste make?”

  “What?” Gunther, who apparently had never heard of Ben Franklin, stared at me.

  “It makes waste. Here’s what we’re going to do: I’m going to go somewhere quickly to answer a question I have while you do something else.”

  Gunther listened attentively.

  “First, I want you to ransack Ingvar’s house from top to bottom tomorrow. Papers, whatever else you find—look through it all. Just take some guards with you in case he has another one of those creatures in there.”

  “All right. Anything else?”

  “Keep an eye on Flosy. We need him ready in the morning two days from now, or even tomorrow, to take us to Falderhall. We’ll free the könig’s daughter and then report to him and talk with Ingvar. Expect me here on the square at 6:30 a.m. two days from now.”

  “Yes, it’ll be an interesting day.” Gunther laughed.

  I clapped him on the shoulder and logged out of the game.

  ***

  Vika was sitting on the couch looking at me when I climbed out of the capsule. Something about the look on her face put me on guard.

  “How could you?” she finally asked me.

  “How could I what?”

  “Tomorrow…well, today we have an incredibly important event that our future depends on, and here you are playing your game.”

  Vika threw her hands in the air, her face showing how sincere her incomprehension was.

  “Just like this,” I answered. “My future doesn’t depend on how well I dance or how much shashlik I can eat; it depends on this.”

  I tapped my fore
head with my finger.

  “You’re wrong,” announced Vika firmly. “It’s the court that makes the king. Zimin and Valyaev may appreciate you for that—I’m sure they do, in fact. But don’t forget that they’re right under the owners—and, really, they’re owners themselves—which means that they handle the big picture. Staffing and technical issues don’t even make it to them. No, all the usual, everyday questions are handled by top management, and they’re the ones who make company policy. They have no reason to like you.”

  “Or you,” I said, continuing her thought.

  “Quite. I have my eye set on a serious career, in case you haven’t noticed, and I need to know—can I count on you tomorrow?” she asked angrily.

  “I hear what you’re saying, and I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, but I’m not a team player.” I did my best to sound as serious as possible. “So, you can count on me tomorrow, but not too much. I’ll do whatever I can, but I won’t do any of that stupid corporate stuff like three-legged races or teambuilding exercises. If you need it, I’ll be happy to sock someone in the nose for you.”

  Vika pursed her lips. I yawned and headed for bed to prepare for the next day, which promised to be tricky. Ah, make that today.

  Chapter Eighteen

  In which the hero gets a little fresh air.

  “Come on, Vika, we’re just going to be drinking some whiskey and eating some shashlik. Why would you wear an evening gown?”

  For the umpteenth time, I was trying to explain to my stubborn girlfriend that there was no point wearing what I was happy to admit were stunningly beautiful clothes on our trip outside the city. The previous day, while I’d been jumping around between burgs, Vika had visited a bunch of different places, gotten herself nice and prettied up, and brought a load of all her girly things home. She was trying to convince me that she needed to wear one of the outfits she’d brought.

  I knew very well how ridiculous she would look in the dress she was wearing. Thanks to my job, I’d been to plenty of similar events, and I was familiar with how little people who wore jeans and blazers to official events (Okay, so their jeans may have cost as much as all the apartments on my floor put together, but still…) cared about what they wore on trips to the countryside.