Eric Flint: Much Fall Of Blood

Emeric seized him as well; and, indeed, his touch was quite agonizing. But Vlad simply ignored the pain. He seized Emeric's hands in his own and, with one mighty shoulder-heaving wrench, broke both of the king's wrists.

Emeric screamed. Vlad flung the king to the ground, half-stunning him in the process. Then, seized Emeric by the scruff of the neck and shook him like a terrier shakes a rat.

"D'you want us to impale him?" asked one of the Szekelers, grinning savagely. "Won't take but a moment to sharpen a stake."

Emeric nearly fainted with terror, suddenly realizing that he could be on the sharp end of his own favorite method of torture. "Please. I beg you!" he squealed.

"You threatened me with that, once," said Vlad harshly. "I spent long hours thinking of doing the same to you. But I have seen what cruelty unleashed can bring. Still, I will not suffer you to live."

He turned to his men. "Build a gibbet and find a rope. He hangs, right here and now."

It didn't take long. Many of Vlad's men were skilled carpenters.

Emeric screeched throughout. Once, frantically, he tried the pain touch again. But with both wrists broken, he couldn't get a decent grip on the prince of Valahia. Vlad cuffed him half-senseless, then.

That was something of a mercy, perhaps, since the Hungarian king was too stunned to be very aware of his surroundings. Which were, of course, quite unsettling. The gibbet went up almost as if by magic.

Emeric regained his senses when he felt the noose fitted to his neck.

"You can't do this!" he screamed.

"Yes. I can." Vlad heaved on the rope. Given his great strength, Emeric went up like a bag of linen. He kicked for a time, and then died.

Vlad tied off the rope to a strut on the gibbet and then gazed upon the dangling body for a few moments.

"Rosa," he said, and turned away.

When the fires were burning for the night, and men were feasting and drinking, Kaltegg Shaman sought out David, in the midst of the knights.

He found the boy by the side of the one that had designated himself as David's mentor. "Boy," he said, without preamble. "You did a good thing. You helped with the battle magic, and maybe more than you know." He nodded at the older knight, who was looking at him curiously, but without any hostility. "Translate. Tell your master."

With a look of astonishment on his face, David did so. The knight nodded thoughtfully. So did the others that were near enough to hear. So. They recognized what had happened, too.

"So, tell me. That song. What was it? Some magic spell this man taught you?"

David's brow creased with puzzlement, as he translated again. The knight laughed.

"No," the knight replied in terrible Mongol. "Is child's sing. I make him teachings of Church."

David blushed a deep crimson, but raised his chin. "My knight is giving me religious instruction, and he taught me the first hymn all children are taught, and it was the first thing that came into my mind. I couldn't remember the battle hymns, but I could remember this."

Tortoise Orkhan came into the firelight, and caught the last of David's words.

"The song? The boy is right, it's one of the first hymns any of our children are taught. They say Saint Hypatia-she was a sort of holy person, like a shaman of shamans-wrote it herself. I think it must have been translated into every language we've ever come across, which is why every Christian knows it." His brows knitted for a moment. "It's about how everyone of good will, no matter what face of God they worship, is united in the eyes of God. I'm no poet, but I'll try a translation for one of the stanzas."

His eyes closed for a moment, then sang softly.

"From lands of endless ice and snow, to sand-filled desert winds that blow, all men of good beneath the sun, hold this pure truth that we are one."

"It goes on like that for three or four verses, each one ending in 'we are one,'" said David. "I like it. I don't care if it is for children."

"Things for children are inclined to be very pure," the shaman said gravely. "Simple is not bad. The simplest things are likely to be quite profound."

He could well imagine that a saint had put her hand to those words. Even in translation, they had power.

Not enough power, however. So. Kaltegg studied the boy David. This one would bear watching, he thought.

The waiting game, decided Dana, was not one that she was well suited to. Everyone, including the wyverns, was away at the war. Dana hadn't liked her first brush with killing. She'd actually been very glad to agree that it would be wise for her to stay here, in Berek. But now she was bored and worried. She learned from the villagers that Vlad rode down to the Mongol encampment quite often. So, accompanied by three wary guards, she did the same. It too was full of women, waiting…

Including Bortai. Dana had really bound to the Mongol Princess in the time from their traumatic meeting in Elizabeth's castle to the taking of Irongate, and their return to Berek.

Bortai was also finding the waiting hard. "Khutulun rode with her father's generals. I think I should too," she'd said. And then had to explain why she couldn't, who Khutulun was and from there, it was a short step to Erik, and what he was doing, and more importantly, wasn't doing. And what her brother had said. And…

Dana found herself trying to comfort someone who was probably ten years older than herself. And who was a lot more worried about Erik than she'd admitted to anyone else.

"He's…" Bortai fumbled for words. "I'm stuck in a stupid practical joke that everyone in the entire Golden Horde thinks is hilariously funny. And the worst part is I think that I will have to stay in it. Erik… I think if he knew that I was a princess… that I have a bride's portion of many horses and flocks, he'd run away. He has told me so often that he was worried about what Svanhild's family back in Vinland would think of her bringing home a near penniless Icelander." She sniffed, defiantly. "I'd have him in the clothes he stood in. And half of the Golden Horde women would have him out them before he could open his mouth to protest. And now I don't even know if he's alive. I should have told him that I loved him."

"He's alive," said a voice behind them.

Bortai turned, and had a knife out, pushed Dana back so fast that Dana hardly had time to squawk her own surprise.

"Come out," said Bortai to the dark back of the ger.

"Phiss. What are you going to do with that little knife? Steel's no good on us. It needs to be stone and magic at that."

Dana stamped her foot. "Come out. It's a wyvern, Bortai. You know. The creatures we have a pact with. They can make themselves very hard to see. But they won't hurt us."

"Might eat you," said the Wyvern, gradually appearing out of the darker area of the ger. Dana knew it had been there all along, but looked like it was coalescing out of the shadows.

"No you won't," said Dana. "Have you been at the battle?"

The wyvern shrugged its wings. "A lot of magic. The shaman is good at it."

"My brother…"

"Is alive. His usual happy self. And so is Erik, and so is her brother," said the wyvern. "They sent me to tell you. But it does bring me to ask some questions about mating among you humans."

Dana hugged it. So did Bortai.

"I don't think we can cross the species line," said the wyvern. "Besides. I think I am female. I wanted to ask you about mating."

"I know a lot about breeding horses," said Bortai, grinning with relief. "And that is quite revealing."

Dana was more tenacious. "Have they won? And when will they be back?"

"They hanged someone called Emeric. And the clans are chasing down the northerners. They've crossed the Dniestr, I was told to tell you. Now about this breeding. Is it necessary to mate with one's brother? We've been looking at you humans and wondering."