Page 67 of The Empire and the Wolf King

Asgall glared menacingly.

He placed a glass directly in front of Asgall and then one at the edge of the table as if it were for Kaitlyn, who lay on the ground, moaning. Then he put one beside me, tae my right hand. He bowed and for a brief second met my eyes — I took it tae mean he saw what was happening and would lend a hand if the moment and capability arose.

Then he backed out of the room.

Asgall sneered. “Dost ye see, Mag Mòr? He is too afraid tae remain out here, nowthatis a weak, frightened man, but I do like tae see men sweat. Do ye?”

I picked up m’glass. “Do Iwhat?”

“Enjoy making men suffer in front of ye?”

“Nae, I am too honorable for it.”

“Are ye now…?” His smile grew slithery. “I see though that ye hae the honor of a barbarian. Ye would drink yer whisky without asking yer wife tae join us at the table tae celebrate?”

“She has been injured, ye insufferable pustulating bawbag, what are we celebratin’?”

“That Iwon. Surely ye canna let her lie there like my worn-out whore when a celebration is happening.”

“Och nae. I just want ye tae understand that those are goin’ tae be yer last words.”

He said, “Kaitlyn, bitch, get up and hae a drink.”

She moaned.

He added, “See, those weren’t my last words, I am still goin’.”

I raised m’glass. “Here’s tae Arse-gall, the emperor of time, a cheat, a liar, a creep, and a dishonorable cowardly fool.”

I drank my shot of whisky.

He drank his shot.

I thought tae myself. Jump up, grab my chair, swing?—

But he immediately began tae grab at his throat, then he dropped the gun, clawing at his collar, his mouth beginning tae drool with foam.

I watched in shock as Asgall’s face turned red, then purple. He raked at his throat, gasping and sputtering. His eyes bulged as he struggled tae breathe.

I grabbed the edge of the table and flipped it at him, sending glasses crashing tae the floor. As he tipped back in his chair, choking and gasping, I lunged forward and tackled him tae the ground.

Behind me I heard a gun fire, and then another blast and another.

Kaitlyn shrieked.

We grappled on the floor, Asgall still clawing at his throat with one hand while tryin’ tae fend me off with the other.

I held Asgall in a chokehold as I fumbled around on the rug for the gun, when from the corner of my eye, I saw a young man, wearing a colonial coat and a powdered wig, carryin’ a modern rifle. He killed another of Asgall’s guards as he stalked toward us.

Twas Archibald, grown, savin’ us from death. He was straight and tall and commandin’. I was verra proud watchin’ him dish out retribution on our enemy — twas a glorious sight.

Then he stood over me. “Da, move!” I rolled tae the side. There was a deafening bang as he shot Asgall in the head, killin’ him for good.

More armed guards rushed in. I jumped tae my feet and Archibald and I overturned the table in front of Kaitlyn. We crouched behind it and fired, but soon I was out of ammunition. He pushed his bag toward me. I rifled through it, papers, folders, a vessel and guns. I grabbed one tae fire again, as Archibald killed another of the guards.

Then the rest turned and fled. We waited, but nae more were coming. The dining room was littered with four bodies, the air thick with gunpowder and smoke, and that eerie silence that came with m’ringing ears after a war.

I jumped up and grabbed Kaitlyn. “Are ye well?”

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