Chapter 30

Day 86:

“King Kort?” John called. “Your, uh majesty?”

Kort was wasting no time moving into the King’s House. A small army of slaves, male and female were taking furnishings out, and replacing them with items the new King wanted. The Raider himself was directing the process from just inside the massive double doors that marked the demi-palace entrance. John paused at the threshold, his Sight quickly locating his new ruler.

“Jyon? How are you this morning? Have you come to post yourself as my guard?” He spun back, pointing at the other side of the room. “No, not there! Over there! By the larger one.”

“Um, I checked around, and most everyone said you only need ‘protection’ while you’re away from the city. Is that not the case?” John confirmed.

“I was only joking.” Kort waved the issue away. “We shall discuss how I want your services when we Raid, but that can wait. What have you come for this morning?”

John waved two additional figures in with him.

“We need to have a private conversation, sir.” John lowered his voice. “It’s important.”

Kort searched John’s face for a bit. “Very well.” He clapped his hands and addressed the slaves. “Take a break, all of you. Go get some food, and I will send someone to fetch you back.”

“Now, what do you wish to discuss?” Kort asked, once they’d closed the doors to be alone.

“A few things, but first...” John stood behind Treb. “This is Sygraid’s son, Trebuchet. He’s the one I told you about. The other Adept. Show him.”

The boy actually bowed, just as John had shown him, before firing an icicle dagger at one of the massive support columns.

“Two Adepts! You did not lie. I believed you, but still, to see with my own eyes...” Kort clapped. “Jyon are you sure you do not have some power to produce miracles whenever you wish?”

John smiled back. He stepped next to the other man, and just slightly in front of him.

“Go ahead.” He said quietly.

The Raider wavered, appearance shifting until Hal revealed his Infernal appearance.

“Sweet holy maidens of valor!” Kort jumped back, hand darting for his sword.

“It’s fine!” John spread his arms. “It is fine!”

“What does this mean?” The King looked frightened.

“Hal is a Magician.” John explained.

Hal’s form changed to his true, Cambion appearance.

“He can look like anyone he wants to.”

Hal now looked just like John.

“Anyone. And he’s been living here for some time, hoping the rest of us would make it too.” John finished.

“He’s your spy?” Kort inquired.

“He’s my friend.” John stressed the last word. “We did the Ice Crag Challenge together, but got split up when we escaped the orc invasion. We’re telling you this in confidence because Hal prefers to remain anonymous. He hates to be the center of attention, even though he’s good at spinning a tale. We never mention Hal’s name to strangers. He’s our secret weapon.”

“He’s the one who nominated you, at the Conclave!” Kort realized.

“I did.” Hal spoke, finally. “Shon is my only friend, and were he to be the King, you would see why everyone he knows loves and reveres him.”

Kort smiled indulgently. “Perhaps, but the Raiders only respect a man for his warrior skill. He needs to fight with us, so that the other warriors know him for themselves.”

“I understand.” Hal answered. “Just wait, you will see.”

“Wait, if you completed the Challenge, does that make you an Adept as well?” Kort’s eyes ping-ponged from Treb to Hal and back.

“I am.” The Cambion confirmed. “I prefer to use the power in more subtle ways, though.”

“Subtle.” Kort stroked his beard. “Subtle is good. I like subtle.”

In a blink, Hal disappeared.

“Invisible?” Kort guessed.

John nodded.

“This is amazing!” Kort stepped closer, hand waving to find the Cambion.

The Raider form returned when the King’s fingertips brushed his invisible chest. Kort took Hal’s forearm, wrapping his off-hand around the outside.

“Let no one else know about your abilities. Any of them.” The King looked at Treb, too. “If any do know, tell them to keep silent about it. A hidden trap is always better than the obvious ambush. Thank you for showing this to me, Jyon. I see you are giving me great trust, without knowing me. I shall keep faith with you. All of you!”

John dismissed Hal and Treb, telling the first to go help Rorik, who was organizing the crews making any repairs to the boats the Raiders used every year. These were a far cry from the Viking long-boats of historic fame. Their shape and speed put them closer to caravels than the more primitive vessels John recalled from history class. He told Treb to seek out Sygraid for weapons practice. Both saluted John, then belatedly the King before departing. John shut the door behind them.

“Your men bear strong loyalty to you.” Kort remarked. “You have trained them well. I foresee that your war-band will be a significant fighting force for us this coming season. There will be some jealousy from the other Raiders because of this. Warn your men, that once we depart, I can tolerate no fighting among the raid-group. I shall whip, or even hang those who disobey, if I judge it necessary. I must be strict while we sail. The sea, and our enemies are too strong for us to allow the men too much leeway. Do you understand?”

“I do. It won’t be a problem.” John assured him.

“Was there anything else?” Kort asked.

John looked around, searching for the right way to explain things.

“This next thing isn’t really a secret.” John hedged. “The warriors and others who actually are from the End itself, not the ones from villages nearby, are aware of where I’m from, and how I got here.”

“You are not an Alfyr Nord?” Kort pointed out. “I can see that much, beneath the scars. Where are you from?”

“Yes, and no.” John equivocated. “I am a normal man, who was sent here by a powerful device my people discovered. I see you have a funeral stone next to the Arena. Do you use it, like the Northmen from the End, and the other towns do?”

“We do.”

“Well, as near as I can figure, those arches are actually doorways. When you place your dead on the stone, and it burns until it disappears, that body’s appearance is kept by whatever controls the doorways. When I came here, I was offered a choice for my body, which resulted in what you see now, sort of. I am not from this world. My home is so far away, I don’t think I can truly explain to you what that distance means.”

Kort was staring at John in shock now.

“I’m telling you this, because I need to go back through the doorway. I promised to meet someone, an old warrior, who once trained me in my world. He’s helping me escape some others who are hunting for me there. If I can, I might even bring one or two people back with me. All warriors, I promise. But if I go, I may be gone for only a few moments, or it may be several days. I can’t be sure until I get there.”

“I―how is this possible?” Kort was at a loss for words. “Why can we not use these doorways to travel to your world?”

“I don’t know.” John assured him. “We tried, but they just won’t work for those from this world. I’m not sure why.”

“You promise you will return, if I let you go?”

“If I’m not back before you go Raid.” John promised. “It’s because I’m either captured, or dead. If I’m captured, there’s very little you can do for me. Sygraid and Rorik know the only other person from my world in this one. They will try to get word to her if I don’t show back up. If I’m dead, well, there’s really only one thing you can do.”

“And what is that?” Kort cocked his head curiously.

John affected nonchalance. “Go through my pockets and look for ... money.”

Kort roared with laughter. “This is true!”

The King slapped his thigh, shaking his head as he caught his breath.

“Go then. I doubt I could stop you, if you may use any funeral stone. They are all over the world. I pray these enemies of yours are not up to the task of capturing you.”

“I do too.”

Welcome back Traveler, please note that your Visitor status is still defunct. You have a total of six portals that you may choose to exit using. Please indicate which one you desire.

“Take me to the portal on my home world.”

And John was standing on the platform, high in the Canadian Rockies. Blue flames flickered in the cave, and reflected off the gray nylon of the single-person rectangular tent someone had pitched right on the ledge beyond the stone slab.

Damn, I wish I could turn those stupid flames off.

They winked out.

Damn, I wish I had a million dollars.

Pause. No luck.

You win some, you lose some.

Later, John wouldn’t be able to pinpoint exactly what it was that sent him into high alert. He froze in place automatically, using just his Sight and highly sensitive hearing to scan the cave and ledge outside. His eye traversed over every inch of the cave’s rock walls. The fading daylight outside cast the area into stark shadows, but John was so focused, he barely realized he was depending on his Sight to make up for the lack of light. There were three spots within sight, all frozen, dried bloodstains. One on the ledge, just outside the tent zipper. It looked like someone had spit there, too. One on the cave wall, at waist height. It accented a place where someone had tried to wipe away evidence of something, but just smeared whatever it was with the blood. The last spot was the remnants of a face in profile, drawn in blood as though a face had hit there, then been cleaned up thoroughly.

Not thoroughly enough.

He couldn’t see through the tent’s nylon exterior, of course. But he could see the heat leaking from it, which told him that at least one person was inside. There were no traps or tripwiress he could detect. After spotting the signs of a struggle, he triple-checked every inch of what he could See, again.

Which wasn’t much. So he closed his eye, and tilted his head to the side.

Breathing/one regular heartbeat inside the tent. Small shifts in position, indicative of a person sleeping (or bound).

He focused harder, trying to discern what lay outside of his view.

Two more heartbeats and a pair of breathing patterns. Slightly stronger sounds, more like those made by someone trying to be very still.

Come into my parlor, said the spider to the fly. Too bad I’m a goddamned wasp, sucker!

So, the tent was bait. John wondered who the poor bastard was they’d stuck in there. He was half afraid it was Ellis, or someone else he’d known in the Unit. The two around the corner no doubt had guns, probably rifle-caliber carbines. And even his new, cold-resistant body came with the standard lead allergy everybody on Earth endured. John had no room to maneuver, what with the damned tent blocking his way. Plus, going up against Special Activities Division, or somebody similar but even more ruthless, when they’ve got the drop on you too, well, that really was suicide.

John had no qualms about taking them out, Americans or no. But this wasn’t the time. Plus, they’d almost surely seen the flame reflection on the tent, and were on high alert themselves. On impulse, John stepped back into the portal.

Welcome back Traveler, please note that your Visitor status remains defunct. You have a total of six portals that you may choose to exit using. Please indicate which one you desire.

“Can you stop turning those damn flames on every time I come out of the portal?” John asked.

Failure to alert sentients who are outside the portal itself when it is in use is a violation of purpose.

“What about this,” John thought furiously, “unless there’s somebody actually standing on the platform, can you please not activate the flames?”

That compromise is acceptable. Similar arrangements have been made elsewhen for other Travelers who face ambush upon exiting a portal.

“Can you make that standard for me, from now on?”

Standard protocol for your portal exit or entry is now to disable visual notification unless such notification is necessary for sentients physically present upon the portal base itself. Acknowledge?

“Yes, thank you!”

Please indicate which portal you desire.

“The one in Final Harbor.”

John waited all day, antsy the whole time. He and Hal shared a meal and a drink, catching up. The Cambion admitted John’s disappointed expression when Hal stated his desire to take advantage of the Valkyrie’s travel offer had stirred some unidentifiable feeling inside him. He’d never experienced it before, and very much wanted it to go away. The only thing that made the feeling disappear was when Hal informed Brunhyldar that he wanted to change his destination.

“I believe she knew why I asked her, for she did not question my request. In fact, her expression might have been approval, though I am not sure.” Hal told John.

“She probably did.” John admitted. “You were feeling ‘guilt’. Your internal sense of what action you should take was at odds with the one you were actually doing. It sucks, don’t it?”

“I do not know why I should suck on something, but it was not an enjoyable feeling. Why would I feel this, when I was taking the safest path for myself?”

Oh Hal, you’re growing up!

“It was the safest for you, personally yeah, but you knew it was extremely dangerous for me and the others.” John explained, trying not to smile. Hal wouldn’t take that the right way. “One aspect of friendship is desiring the best outcome for your friend. Even at the expense of your own safety or happiness.”

“This is contrary to everything the Infernal people believe.” Hal mused.

“I’ll bet.” John agreed. “For all the good it does them. But how did you feel when you saw us coming down the mountain?”

Hal’s face split wide open. It was the biggest, most genuine smile John had ever seen on the Cambion.

“It was such a good thing, I almost dropped my disguise, just so you would know I was there. Then, when the King stated he planned to kill you, and enslave the people of the North, I very nearly stabbed him right there! I do not know how I remained among them without revealing myself.”

“I do.” John stared Hal in the eye. “You were being a true friend. Rorik knows what you did. He was inspired by your example. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.”

“The bottom? Why?” Hal scrunched his eyebrows. “You call yourself my friend; does this mean you would do something similar for me? You would put yourself at risk, to aid me without my knowledge?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what it means.”

“I shall think on this, and speak with Rorik about his view on friendship. To an Infernal, the word only means ‘someone who might be of use to you, later’.”

“We’d use the word ‘ally’ for that. Common purpose, for the moment, but different motivations.” John pointed out.

Then John spent several hours helping repair and prepare the ships for their use. The Watchmen would have to be split up, riding on several vessels. Sygraid and Rorik were working to figure out who would be better suited to an independent berth, and who needed a closer eye.

He even got an hour’s worth of weapons practice with a Raider whose ax-wielding skills were better than anyone he’d trained with yet. Skyald was the man’s name, and he too carried a dragon-gifted enchanted ax.