Chapter 27

Somewhere east of Hveragerði, Iceland

Monday, October 17th, 2050

We set out the next morning early, before even a more southerly island would have had its sunrise. As if to rub it in, the weather was extra gloomy, and the fog didn’t lift until we were a few hours away from Keflavik.

We were dressed in our civilian clothes, since it would defeat the purpose if somebody noticed a group of wizards driving around. Heida drove us on the first shift before pulling over at a gas station.

“Do we need more fuel already?” I asked. Mariko and Kowalski had gone inside, leaving us to guard the car.

“My shoulders are stiff,” she replied as she stretched out.

I sidled up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist. She stiffened at the unexpected touch, but didn’t protest. “I suppose there’s downsides to being so gifted. If we were alone, I’d help you carry those burdens.”

She snorted. “No, you perv. Long drives always do that to me.” She moved my hands up to her shoulders. “Put those to use and I won’t tell everyone how obsessed with my chest you are.”

“I think it’s a little late for that,” I said, though I complied. She had serious knots that would take some time to work out. “I could drive the next leg.”

She looked over her shoulder. “Wait, you can drive? Are you sure? You know this is different than a horse drawn carriage, right?”

“Very droll,” I said. “Those are the words of a woman who wants the massage to end, and one who wants to keep driving.”

“I’ll be good,” she said, leaning into me. “Enjoy it while you can; once we’re there, this is going to have to stop.”

“We’ll see about that,” I said. “There’s always places to sneak around.”

“Not there,” she replied, “but you’ll see soon enough.”

Heida had been right; our hiding spot was firmly in the boonies. I was relieved of driving duty as soon as we got off the main road and turned onto a gravel road. “It’s going to be easier for me to drive it than to explain.”

I was skeptical, but the old, hand painted road signs were so worn that they’d be mostly useless, even if I read Icelandic. We lost gravel at the second left turn, and the dirt road meandered between the hilly fields.

We finally arrived at an aged, wooden gate. “Someone’s going to need to open that for us,” said Heida.

Kowalski’s hand shot up. “I’m on it!”

I wondered if he was perhaps misinterpreting my advice to be confident. He was in danger of Heida thinking he was a doormat.

Actually, that would be rather accurate. No harm, then.

Mariko got out of her seat and leaned between us up front. “Is this a farm?”

“You sound so excited,” said Heida. “You won’t be soon enough.”

“What is your problem with farms?” asked Mariko. “You were very dismissive about that other man’s property, too.”

“If you escaped prison, would you be eager to go back?”

“What do you mean by that, my dear?” I asked. “I haven’t seen anything so awful.”

Heida sighed. “You’ll see soon enough.”

Kowalski had figured out the gate’s lock after a few tries and he swung it open for us. Heida drove a safe distance down the road, and the Polish boy put it back without being told. Heida rewarded him by driving forward a van’s length when he got close to the door.

Mariko glared at our guide. “That was not funny.”

“It was a little bit,” I said, earning me an annoyed harumph from the Mariko.

Rolling hills of dry grass stood between us and our destination, and little groups of stock, white sheep milled about wherever one looked. It seemed that unlike Brandur’s flock, these sheep knew to give our car a wide berth as soon as they saw us.

The two-legged occupants of the farm seemed less sensible, though. A girl in overalls ran right up to the van, forcing Heida to brake.

The blonde opened the window. “What are you doing, Lilja?”

“English? Oh, for the guests.” Lilja bent over through the window, grabbing Heida around the shoulders. “I can’t believe it! It’s you!”

“Lilja, please, not in front of the cadets,” she protested. “You’re embarrassing me!”

Lilja released Heida, laughing sheepishly. “Sorry, I got too excited. I just didn’t really believe you were coming home! It’s been ages.”

Aside from her hair color and a few freckles, the brunette woman looked like Heida’s taller clone. That’s when it clicked.

“So, this is the prison you escaped, Heida?”

She let out a sigh. “Yeah.”

Lilja glared down at her sister. “Prison? The heck have you been telling them?”

“Don’t you worry about it.” Heida scanned the area. “Is Pabbi around?”

Lilja shook her head. “No, he’s back in the house. His leg’s bothering him today, so I forced him to stay in out of the cold.”

Heida flinched before nodding. “Well, the cold’s bothering us, too. Let’s get moving.”

Lilja gestured towards partially-rusted pickup truck laden with haybales. “Yup, I’ve got other chores to do, too. It’s hard being out here alone, y’know?”

Heida flinched again before nodding. “We won’t be too long.”

“I’ll help,” said Kowalski, hopping out of the van before anybody could say anything. Definitely misinterpreted me. “Me and Buddy have been cooped up all day anyway.”

Lilja looked up at Kowalski. The tall woman seemed surprised that she had to do so. “Um, hi?”

“H-hey,” he said, before stretching out his hand. “I’m Rafal. Do you need some help with that straw?”

“It’s hay,” said Lilja. “Straw’s different. But that’s right, and we have half the herd to—” She stopped and let out an ear-piercing shriek as Buddy emerged from Kowalski’s shadow.

“Buddy, we’re all friends here.” He held up his hands, and I instinctively opened my own door. I prepared to start casting, just in case Buddy got strange ideas about this new girl. Heida and Mariko had much the same thought.

Buddy’s soulless eyes narrowed as he studied the newcomer, before shifting into a smaller form about the size and shape of a cat. He hopped up onto the roof of the old pickup, going into his gargoyle pose. I wonder if that’s how he rests? Or is it the only way he can laze around without scaring people too much?

Kowalski turned to the Icelandic girl and rubbed the back of his head. “S-sorry, that’s my affinity, Buddy. He’s kinda got a mind of his own. Looks like he doesn’t feel like helping right now.”

“Thank God, I thought that was a demon.” Lilja visibly relaxed and squeezed Kowalski’s bicep. “If you’re as strong as you look, we won’t need him.”

“Thanks?” he said in a high-pitched voice, earning him a chuckle from Lilja.

“Should he come with us to meet your father?” asked Mariko.

Heida snorted as she restarted the van. “Nah, Rafal’s going to make a way better impression this way than stammering his way through an introduction.”

“That is not a nice thing to say… though I think I see your point,” said Mariko.

“I’m just glad he volunteered,” said Heida. “We’re going to have enough of that in our futures.”

Ugh, honest manual labor. Hell on earth for a gentledevil like yours truly. It’s rather too much like the Enemy’s instructions for his followers.

“Is Lilja your older or younger sister?” asked Mariko.

“Younger. Isn’t it obvious?”

“Not really,” I said.

“I guess not.” Heida sighed as we pulled up at a farmhouse. “She’s been taller than me since I was fifteen. Served her right, though; she stopped being able to steal my clothes.”

Mariko giggled as we exited the van. “Be glad you have a sister; my parents were too old when they had me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Heida. “Anyway, we’re here. Magpie, church it up.”

“Excuse me?” I said.

Ignoring me, Heida looked over her shoulder. “Mariko… Pabbi will probably like you just fine. Keep being your vanilla self.”

“Excuse me?” demanded Mariko.

“You’re excused.” Heida let herself in with a key, and I caught her smirking at Mariko’s umbrage. “Good, I was afraid he’d changed the lock.”

The old farmhouse reminded me of our rented home in Keflavik. It had the same homey scent of old timber and, praise the Dark Lord, real firewood! I already liked this ‘Pabbi’ fellow, and I hadn’t even met him. The walls were covered in photos of Heida, Lilja, and an older woman who bore a strong resemblance to them both.

We spotted our host quickly enough. He sat on a threadbare couch, peering at a tablet from behind a set of reading glasses. He was cleanshaven, with blond hair that was losing to an invasion of grey. He rose to his feet with the help of a hardwood cane that seemed oddly familiar. I couldn’t place it, though.

“Oh, are we not knocking anymore?” His smile didn’t falter, despite his words.

“You said I was welcome back anytime,” said Heida.

“Sure, but you’re here on official business. Wizard Corpswomen shouldn’t be breaking and entering. What would they say in the news?”

Heida’s personality was starting to make a lot of sense all of a sudden.

Heida’s voice shifted into the bland tone of a television newscaster. “Breaking news: local wizard forgets to say hello to his guests, harasses his daughter instead.”

He seemed to notice us for the first time. “You have a point there. Corpsman Bryndísar Ingólfsson, at your service.” His eyes narrowed. “Weren’t there supposed to be three of you?”

“Cadet Kowalski volunteered to help Lilja,” I replied. “Rather generous of him, I think.”

“Mm, yes.” He peered at Heida a moment, and I couldn’t quite read his expression.

Trying to end the awkward moment, I extended my hand to him. “Cadet Soren Marlowe, sir.”

“Cadet Mariko Yamada,” said the Japanese girl, bowing instead. “Though, I thought Heida said your name was Pabbi.”

“It means ‘dad’,” said Heida with a roll of her eyes.

“Oh, my apologies!” replied Mariko.

“No worries,” he said, his tone suddenly less friendly as he went to shake my hand. I realized I’d made a mistake, since he had to awkwardly shift the cane to his other hand. His grip was much weaker than I’d expected from a man of his build. Explains why he’s miffed.

Heida winced, though I couldn’t tell why. Perhaps embarrassed at my faux pax? “We should put away our things.”

Bryndísar waved us towards a set of stairs. “Your rooms are upstairs. There’s four, counting mine and Lilja’s; you can fight over how to share them. Take any you like”

“Then where are you going to sleep?” asked Mariko.

He nodded to the couch. “There’s a hide-a-bed in there.”

“No, that will not do at all,” declared Mariko. “Let me take it. I will not put you out in your own home.”

“Well, aren’t you polite?” Bryndísar chuckled. “I’ll let you in on a secret, Ms. Yamada. Stairs and I aren’t on the best terms these days.” He rapped his cane against his thigh, producing a hollow sound. “How Yosuke Tachibana has gotten around all these years with a fake is beyond me.”

“He doesn’t really get around, which is why he’s become round,” I said, miming the Headmaster’s gut.

“Soren! That was not…”

Bryndísar interrupted Mariko with a hearty laugh. “Oh, you’re going to be fun.”

“There’s a reason I keep him around,” said Heida, resting her head on my shoulder.

Mariko set aside her irritation at Heida’s come on. “I-I’m sorry to bring it up, sir.”

He shrugged. “Most of me made it back from England, so I can’t complain too much. A lot of people didn’t.”

“I meant… I did not mean to expose your shame.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Shame? What shame? Shame is for people that don’t give it their all.”

That seemed to kill the blonde woman’s good mood in an instant. “Let’s get you moved in, Magpie,” Heida muttered, grabbing her bag and mine before dashing up the stairs.

Mariko narrowed her eyes. “I notice she took your things to her room, Soren.”

“And she has a pet name for you.” Bryndísar’s left hand fell on my shoulder, and whatever strength his right hand lacked seemed to have found its home there. “That is interesting, isn’t it?”

“W-well, everyone calls me Magpie,” I said, hiding my discomfort. It wasn’t easy; his fingers were like a vice. I looked for something else to contemplate besides his glare. “That’s a handsome cane you have there, sir. Do I see some demonic runes on there?”

He released me and held up the angular, polished staff. “Good eye. Yeah, I got this off the bastard who took my leg.”

“Seems fair he should help replace it,” I said. I thought I’d recognized it; we had never figured out what happened to old Sub-General Tartaran during the fighting in London. It seemed he’d at least left his mark, though a wizard’s leg was no Big Ben. “Though…” I questioned how much to say, since it would expose my knowledge of demonic magic. That was some rather nasty magic woven into it. Does he even know it could fire off a Bloody Lance if he charged that cane?

“You got something on your mind, Skjor?” asked Bryndísar. “That’s Icelandic for Magpie, before you ask.”

I gulped. He certainly managed to pack a lot of malice into that nickname. “Simply surprised you’d keep something so wicked around.”

He raised an eyebrow. “It’s only a piece of wood, Skjor.”

“So it is, sir.” I decided to keep my secrets to myself. He hasn’t activated it yet. No sense digging myself deeper.

“Ms. Yamada, go ahead and claim your room,” said Bryndísar. “Skjor here tried to distract me, and we still need to have a quick word.”

“Oh, we do? I don’t see where…” There was that vice grip again.

Mariko beat a quick retreat, the traitor.

“Listen,” he said. “I’ve heard all the jokes about farmer’s daughters. Told a few of ‘em myself, before I was the father. Now they don’t seem so funny anymore. I don’t want you and this Kowalski thinking my home is a place to hook up.”

“You have nothing to worry about from Kowalski,” I replied.

“Then I do have to worry about you. I know my daughter. I suspect you know her too, if she’s still carrying on like before.”

“I—”

Bloody Hell, he could squeeze harder? “Don’t confirm or deny. I know, and you know I know. I don’t need to hear the words. Just know that if you know her under my roof, we’ll have more words, and they won’t be quite as polite. Understood?”

“A man’s home is his castle,” I said, keeping the discomfort out of my voice.

The pressure vanished in an instant. “Good. I heard good things about you from Henrik and Asahi. A bit from the news, too. I hate meeting heroes and being let down. Don’t disappoint me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir,” I said. “I-I’ll go suggest that Heida share a bed with her sister.” Normally I wouldn’t back down without a protest, but I’d already lost one home over a blonde with an overprotective father. I wasn’t going to make the same damned mistake all over again.

“Good move,” he said. “I think we’re going to get along just fine.”

I’m glad one of us does.