Chapter 15

Day 13:

The four companions walked up to the gates of Tygus’s fortress three days later. The fortification sat atop an enormous ridge that ran southeast from the mountains west of the Ice Crag. The only way up the Western Rim, from the west was a single path, with a tower standing at the summit, twin to the one at Watchtower. Going around the Rim required a journey of seven to ten days hard march to the south, depending on the season. Tygus had made that concrete tower the cornerstone of his walls, and expanded the original, tiny village at the tower’s base into the largest fort for hundreds of miles. It was easily over ten times the size of the End. The exterior doors to the tower were all bricked up with stone, and the light at the top was replaced by a mirrored dome inside the crenelations. The midday sun reflected off the shiny curve into a rainbow across the snow-covered walls. Those walls were all made with large stones, and the only gate faced a small level patch beside the peak of the ascent trail.

Syg led them around the walls to that gate, where they were met by an armed and armored contingent, separate from the gate’s normal guards. Those guards’ uniforms were edged in blue and a little silver thread. Their shields bore a blue bird of prey swooping, edged in silver, and their pole arms were halberds with blue cords decorating the head. The contingent who met them, in contrast wore all white, with dark gray armor. Their spears were simple, with a crosspiece behind the tip. Their shields bore the same device as Syg’s original one, now covered with leather and carried by Treb. Their leader, a tall, thin man, who nearly looked Syg eye to eye, held out a hand for her to clasp.

The man’s voice was gravelly. “Shield-maiden! What brings you back to Fort Tygian so soon? You said you were going to the End for a while. Help the hunters stock up for the Long Night.”

“Ranveng,” Sygraid took his forearm, “you did not need to come to the gate. I would have met you at the tower.”

“The Glass showed you approaching with well-armed but unknown men, wearing a Valkyrie helmet. Valkyries have been spotted twice by other Wardens since you left. We normally only see them every few Long Nights. Two times in such a short span? What does it portend?” Ranveng asked.

“Change, Senior, change.” Sygraid told him. “Will you escort us to Lord Tygus? He will want to hear what we have to say as well.”

The Senior Warden nodded. “He is in the bastion. Follow me.”

The rest of the five Wardens formed an escort around the companions. The fort’s inhabitants made way as the armored group marched to the central fortification. Blue and silver accented sentries stood beside a wide door set in the wall there.

“Senior Warden,” one of the guards reminded Ranveng, “only Wardens may bear weapons in the Lord’s house.”

Ranveng sighed, but nodded. The Warden escorts stood aside as the other guard took John’s over-sized knife, and Treb’s weapons. Sygraid asserted her Warden status, and Hal copied the Tooth in making his saber pass unnoticed. The partially-disarmed group continued inside, finding a small courtyard then a large house built into the far wall. An open door revealed a staircase winding into the foundation on one side. The Senior Warden led the group to the house’s main door. A small, rat-faced man opened to his knock.

“Hello Pal.” Ranveng greeted. “Sygraid brings news. Is your lord busy?”

The man took their group in suspiciously.

“I will ask him. Wait here.” He closed the door in the Senior Warden’s face.

“Friendly guy.” John commented, leaning over to Sygraid. “Is his name really ‘Pal’?”

“Yes, why?” Syg replied.

John snorted. “No reason.”

A few minutes later, the door reopened. Pal motioned them inside, but blocked the Warden guards.

“Wait outside.” He pointed at the courtyard.

They grumbled, but Ranveng nodded his acceptance. Pal led them through a foyer with staircases leading up to a second floor on each side. The door at the other end was guarded by two large men, wearing the most ornate armor John had seen yet. Burnished steel gleamed, blue-dyed fur lined the edges, and each had an enormous two-handed sword hung over their backs. They eyed the group haughtily, but didn’t say anything.

In the room beyond, a hall really, sat a truly grotesque fat man in layers of dirty furs at the head of a long table. John could see he’d once been a great bear of a man; but had let himself go to seed in recent years. A motley assortment of hard-eyed, blade-festooned men gathered on both sides of the slab. The ones to John’s left were older, and looked like seasoned campaigners. The ones to his right were very young, and had the dirty, ragged look of street toughs the world over. Ten in all, none wore a uniform, and the kids joked openly at the newcomers’ expense and piles of picked-over food sat messily in front of each one. The fat man roared for silence as Ranveng approached him.

“Ranny!” John assumed it was Syg’s ‘Lord Tygus’ who threw his arms wide. “What brings you to my table today?”

Then he noticed Sygraid and tried to stand. It took three attempts. “Sygraid!” He waddled over and hugged her. His head came to her chest. “My favorite Shield-maiden! When will you divorce that old broken-down innkeeper and come live with me?”

Sygraid stiffened, but did not return the affection. “I am happy with my family.”

Tygus released her and stepped back. “I could be your family, did you ever think of that?” He turned, hands indicating the seated men. “These could be your brothers. They would teach your son what it truly means to be a man.”

The youths cackled at his words. Treb’s face reddened and scowled.

“How old is the boy now? Why do you never bring him to visit?” Tygus asked.

“He has only eight Long Nights.” Syg replied stiffly. “He is still a small boy.”

John closed a hand around Treb’s arm, when the young man opened his mouth.

“Don’t.” He hissed quietly.

“You should bring him next time.” Tygus moved back to his chair. “He could learn much, here.”

Sygraid bowed. “It may be some time before I return.”

Tygus fell into his chair with horrific flatulence.

“Some time? What do you mean? You’re our best Warden. Are you going out for a long hunt?”

Sygraid bowed again. “I have come to take my leave of you, and the Wardens.”

Even Ranveng looked shocked at her words.

“You’re leaving the Wardens?” He sputtered.

“I am.” She nodded. “My Warden shield is with the guards. You may take it back.”

“Sygraid, come now, what are you saying?” Tygus peered up at her. “You can’t leave. We have an arrangement.”

Syg’s face hardened. “Our ‘arrangement’ was that I would serve in the Wardens for ten Short Summers. It has been twenty. I am a free woman.”

“Syggy, what about your son? You said he would take your place, when he was old enough.” Tygus said, while Ranveng nodded.

“My son,” Sygraid sighed, “will make his own decisions, when he comes of age.”

“Maybe we’ll pay him a visit then.” One of the seated youths snarked. “Let him get a taste of the ‘good life’.”

John clenched his hand harder, as Treb vibrated.

Sygraid looked down her nose at him. “You wish to visit the End? We leave first thing in the morning, if you are brave enough.”

The surly kid jumped to his feet, whipping out a knife. “You calling me a coward, you old whore?”

Hal stepped to her side. “You have a hearing problem, yes? She asked if you were a coward. Your reaction tells the rest of us what your real answer is to her question.”

The kid’s eyes narrowed. “Big words from—argh!”

Syg’s shield impacted his face, laying him out on the floor. Blood poured from his nose, staining his already grubby leather armor. Her spear point leveled a few inches from his face.

The youth’s friends all jumped to their feet. Knives came out.

John’s hand dropped to the Tooth. Hal and Treb flanked him to interpose themselves between Syg and the rest.

“L-lord Tygus, please!” Ranveng begged. “Sygraid said she brings us news. Please, call off your men and let us hear what she has to say.”

“Yes, yes.” Tygus waved his hands. “Sit down! No more of this foolishness!”

The boys all glowered, but slowly, reluctantly they obeyed. Their expressions promised retribution.

“I am disappointed in you.” Tygus frowned. “Sygraid, what news do you bring, on the heels of your desertion?”

She motioned with her spear, and the kid pushed himself away before standing. He spat the usual, “You’ll regret this!” as he stormed out, yelling for a healer.

Sygraid set her spear butt down, and spoke to Tygus, with occasional glances to Ranveng.

“My companions and I have just returned from the Crag. W—e”

The boys all laughed, and one of them shouted, “Mammoth dung!”

Syg ignored them and kept talking. “ ... journeyed through the Halls of Valor and faced the dragon herself.” The laughter and jeers grew louder. “There are legends in the south, that say the dragon must reward those who face her and complete a test she assigns. We have done this, and returned. Wh—en”

“Sygraid, Sygraid! Why are you telling us this fantasy?” Tygus said in exaggerated disappointment.

“Would you like to see proof?” She asked icily.

“Sure, show us your ‘proof’, and it better not be your pretty new shield.” Tygus invited.

Sygraid switched her spear to her shield hand and shot an icicle-dart across the table. It shattered against the wall far behind the older men.

“Sygraid! What have you done?” Ranveng asked.

She turned to the Senior Warden. “I faced the dragon, and laid my life on the line. As did my companions. When word of our deed spreads, you can be sure others will flock to the Crag to try to match it.”

“Wardens are supposed to kill the dragon’s minions, not make deals with them!” Ranveng exclaimed.

“We slew plenty of the dragon’s forces.” A knowing smile crossed her lips. “Even turned some against each other. Nothing we had could have even scratched the dragon’s scales though. Fortunately, she is bound by a powerful magic to abide by the rules of their Challenge. We used those rules to earn our reward.”

“You are in league with the evil one.” One of the older men spat.

Their entire side stood as one.

“You shall not suffer a witch to live.” Another said.

The Bible? Really?

Not now Melvin!

The boys followed suit, knives coming back out.

“Now ya done it!” One laughed. “We get ta kill ya, and not even yer son can claim vengeance.”

“You permit this, Tygus?” Sygraid asked the lord.

“There is nothing I can do.” He protested. “You know the Code as well as I.”

“Excuse me.” Hal interjected. “What is the precise rule that we have broken?”

“You heard it, dung face!” One of the boys sneered. “You shall not suffer a witch to live!”

“Yes, but Sygraid is not a witch.” Hal argued.

They all laughed again.

“Oh really? What was it she just did, then? Huh?”

“She performed a minor feat of power, which makes her an Adept. Not a Witch.” Hal pointed out.

“Same thing!”

“Trying to twist words with us, you’re next, witch-lover!”

Hal looked at Tygus, and Ranveng.

“I have traveled in the south, and am knowledgeable about some of their rules. Many places have that exact same rule. The word you used: ‘witch’ is a very specific title. It applies only to someone who draws their power from Tyamat, who the other dragons call the Betrayer. It is a very old rule, dating to before the other eight banished Tyamat to beyond the Walled World. There has not been a verified Witch in the lands I have traveled in centuries. There are, however many Wizards, Sorcerers, Mystics and Magicians; but no Witches. Each title is specific to one dragon’s power. Those who draw from Nyd’hagh are called Adepts. Sometimes Ice Adepts, since we are the first and not many know what the title means. Wizards and Sorcerers, Mystics and Magicians are all tolerated, even revered in the south.”

Many of the older men made signs, and the younger men inched closer.

“You just admitted it, word twister.” One of the kids smiled. “Now we get to gut you all.”

“Is this true?” Ranveng asked, hand on Sygraid’s shoulder.

“How am I to know? I have little knowledge of the south.” She said without taking her eyes off the boys.

“Tygus, you must tell your men to stand away. If he speaks the truth, your men might be committing murder. Do you want that on your conscience?” Ranveng pleaded.

“I do not believe him. He is lying.” Tygus stared at Sygraid with disgust. “A witch would say anything to avoid death.”

The older men moved around the table to flank Tygus. They glowered at the companions with undisguised loathing.

“Tygus, many people saw Sygraid come in the gate.” Ranveng argued. “If you cut down a Warden, especially one as famous as the Shield-maiden, it will cause problems.”

Tygus’s hateful stare swiveled to regard Ranveng. “You take her side? Against me? You forget your place, Senior Warden. I am the Lord here. You’re under my authority!”

Ranveng held his ground. “I am not; I answer only to the Marshals. Wardens gladly accept requests for our services from you and your men. And your rewards are a fine reason to focus on the most serious threats. But the Wardens extend far beyond your lands. Our Order predates your rule by many years. You know what I say is true. If you cut down a Warden who has honorably come to take her leave, the entire corps will hear of it. And no matter what the reason is, you’ll have much greater problems than just these four standing here.”

Tygus’s face changed several times as he considered the Senior Warden’s words. Anger and frustration were the most prominent, but resignation was where he settled.

“We cannot have word of this spreading. Witches would mean the death of us all.” Now the lord was pleading to the Warden. “Can’t you see where this will lead? If we accept her agents here, soon the evil beast will rule us all.”

“Perhaps, but maybe not.” Ranveng equivocated. “Sygraid is not acting any differently than she has for as long as I’ve known her. Many villages hold her in high esteem; if you do what your men demand, you could very well turn them against you.”

Now Tygus sneered. “Let them try. My war-band conquered them once, I doubt it will be any harder the second time.”

The older men smiled grimly at his words.

“You got that right, lord.” One growled.

Ranveng swept a hand, taking in all present.

“These are all that remains of your war-band, Lord Tygus. When you brought order to the frozen wastes, your forces numbered over a hundred. Even then, you had to stay in East Point for years to keep the Raider Kings at bay. They’ve gotten stronger these last few years; if they hear of unrest, how long do you think before they invade?”

“You forget my guards.” Tygus reminded him. “I could easily have a force even greater within days.”

“Lord Tygus,” Ranveng argued skillfully, “your guards are necessary to hold this fort. We Wardens do what we can, but I know the orcs keep a sharp eye on what happens here. If you march the entire guard contingent out the gate and turn east, they will know in hours and we’ll have one of their war-bands here in less than a week.”

One of the older men leaned over and whispered in Tygus’s ear.

“No,” Tygus said after a minute, “the Warden speaks truthfully. If the orcs take this place, all our towns are at risk.”

He glared at Ranveng for a moment, then turned his attention to the companions. “Very well, we will let you live. But you are banished from the fort. My gate is barred to you, and you must depart before the sun sinks completely below the mountains. I don’t care where you go, but you’re no longer welcome here. Begone, and if you do return, I will have you killed! Guards!”

The door they entered by opened, and the two enormous guards entered. Tygus pointed at the companions.

“Escort these to the bastion gate, and have one of the others follow them. Report to me where they go, and whether they leave Fort Tygian by sundown.” He ordered.