Hammers in the Wind (14 page)

“Stop daydreaming, boy. What’s the matter with you?”

Embarrassed, he replied, “I was just thinking is all.”

“About?”

The Gaimosian dropped the two sacks he’d been carrying and headed back for more. He was a far better warrior than laborer but Bahr had wisely decided to disguise this trip as a trading venture. It would work well enough to give them enough time to pack up and leave town without too much notice. Otherwise, Rogscroft agents would be swarming them in no time.

Skuld watched Boen return with more heavy bags. “What I would give to have done some of the things you have.”

Boen almost smiled. “My life has been one sad affair after another. Spare yourself the trouble and forget about what I do.”

“I’ve only ever seen the gutters of Chadra. My life hasn’t been much better.”

The big man clamped a fatherly hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Lad, I can see the fire in your eyes, but you have to know when to let it cool. I’m not a role model. Never had a family, never known love. All I know is pain and suffering. War is not the fancy images in your mind. It is demanding, brutal work. The weak die fast and those of us who manage to survive long enough grow bitter, callous. Go find yourself a good woman and an honest living.”

Skuld listened, but remained unconvinced. There had to be more to being a famous warrior than just misery and sad memories. Why were all of the old tales centered around such men if that were true? Certainly Dorl and Nothol lived good lives. Neither seemed to want. They were professionals. Skuld paused to wonder how bad Boen’s life had been to make him act so.

A spark caught then. Skuld suddenly became determined to make more out of his life than what it was. He was convinced destiny held some measure of greatness. This was his chance to prove his worth, not only to himself but to those who held doubts. His thoughts wandered down split roads, some dark, some not. Bahr’s sudden appearance on the dock made him abandon those dreams and focus on the task at hand. The Sea Wolf had every intention of leaving him here. Skuld needed to make his move soon before the opportunity was lost.

“Most of the supplies are offloaded,” Boen told the captain.

Bahr nodded absently. “Have any of the local factors approached us yet?”

A small crowd of merchants and sailors crowded the docks, though none seemed overly interested in the Bane. Gulls squawked as they flew over. A random pelican sat on the stump of an old pier, sharp eyes piercing the blue for fish.

“Couldn’t say. That’s Rekka’s area, not mine,” the Gaimosian replied.

Bahr acted as if he didn’t hear. “We need to sell the goods and get moving. I don’t want to waste any more time than necessary.”

Boen did a quick take on the pier. “Trouble?”

“Maybe. I’ve got a feeling that we are going to have company soon. If Badron has spies here then Rogscroft has spies in Delranan.”

“That means enemy soldiers.”

Bahr smiled weakly. “Then the war begins tonight, with us.”

Boen agreed. “I would not have come along if I didn’t think there wasn’t going to be at least a little blood spilled.”

Dorl and Nothol came up to them. Both noticed the eagerness in Skuld’s eyes but didn’t ask the obvious. Their gait was measured and very controlled, suggesting they were being tracked.

“What news?” Bahr asked.

Dorl rolled his eyes to his friend. “You tell him.”

“We’ve secured billets at the inn on the far side of town. You won’t believe this, but the name is actually the Dragon’s Bane. Seems you’re famous, old man.”

Boen snorted a chuckle.

“A small world,” Bahr grimaced.

He hoped the inn lived up to his expectations of his ship. “Finish with the supplies and get us there. I want everything done by nightfall. Oh and Dorl, no one drinks tonight.”

Dorl Theed frowned.

“Has there been any word on my daughter?”

Badron’s eyes had grown hollow, dark circles aging him. They were shot through with tiny red streaks. It wasn’t that he missed her, truth be told she could already be dead and he wouldn’t lose any sleep. He wanted her back and under his control before she had the chance to give any secrets to his enemies.

Harnin One Eye shook his head. “The Dragon’s Bane should have made port by now. If all goes well they will be moving on Rogscroft within the next few days.”

“Not good enough.”

“My lord, there is no possible way for us to know what exactly is happening. Bahr and your daughter could still be hundreds of leagues apart. There is no way to track the Bane.”

Rage flashed through Badron’s tired eyes. “What good is my senior advisor if he cannot predict the actions of his very own handpicked agents? You give excuses where I seek answers.”

Harnin knew better than to respond. Anything said now would only serve to further enrage an already unstable king. The one eye began to ponder the question of a new king. The situation was dangerous enough. Harnin wasn’t sure how to react. He had plans of his own and those didn’t involve Badron.

“Are you certain that your man on that boat is reliable?” the king asked.

“He is. Ionascu is a dead giveaway, but one that Bahr shouldn’t take much issue with once he finds out. After all, an agent of the king is required for a task so complicated.”

Badron didn’t fail to notice how Harnin managed to deflect accusations when speaking of his people. He knew then that Ionascu and all of the others Harnin hired were going to have to die.

“How goes the mobilization of the Wolfsreik?” he asked in an attempt to prevent himself from reaching out and strangling Harnin unnecessarily.

“The army is close to half assembled. Training is already underway.”

Not good enough
. “I do not want to be caught here after the first snow. How much longer until we have enough to march?”

“We could deploy today if need be, but without much of the strength to sustain a major offensive,” Harnin replied.

“We don’t need a long offensive. All I need is to get the army to the walls of Rogscroft. The follow on trains can bring in reinforcements and supplies.”

“That would leave our supply trains exposed to attack from the Pell Darga and whatever forces are left outside of the city. They’d be picked off at will, leaving the rest of us cut off in the middle of winter.”

“What then would you suggest? Send a friendly message with promises of good will and kindly asking for my daughter back? I will see that city razed to the ground before I grovel to Stelskor.”

Harnin struggled to keep his anger from flowing over. “I am suggesting nothing of the sort. I merely point out that we need to march with the full strength of the army at our back. Fragmented, the Wolfsreik will not be strong enough.”

“Perhaps,” Badron said tentatively. “Go to the camp. Press General Rolnir into greater urgency. I want this campaign underway before the snows come.”

Winter was just as much of an enemy as Rogscroft. Heavy snows were responsible for as many deaths as enemy arrows. Worse, the mountain passes would close, sealing them to their doom. Harnin had been part of such disaster before. That was how he lost his eye.

“Three weeks, Harnin. The Wolfsreik marches in three weeks, with or without the full muster. Do not fail me on this.”

Harnin bowed and left.

Badron ignored the man. The door slammed shut behind him. The king of Delranan turned his attentions back to what he had planned for Rogscroft.

The encampment was a sprawling complex of men, weapons, and horses. Huge stacks of materials necessary for making siege weapons lay in random piles on the far side. Row upon row of soiled brown tents filled the plain in precision. Fires spotted the camp in wasted efforts towards keeping the men warm. Roasting meat and cauldrons of boiling stew filled the air with an almost pleasant aroma. Despite the surface tranquility, the camp had but one purpose. War.

Harnin rode in on a roan mare, impressed at how the mighty war machine could so easily be called to action. Life always had a way of seeming simpler amongst men when they readied to deploy. An outsider might view the actions as unorganized and chaotic though in truth it was anything but. Each soldier knew precisely what needed to be done. Sergeants barked orders while senior officers planned the campaign. Life or death was based on a soldier’s level of preparation.

Companies of infantrymen drilled on the open plain. Harnin noted the grim severity in their eyes. It had been long since last they were called to fight. Each was a proven veteran ready to knock off the rust and march back into slaughter. He felt pride stir in his aging heart. It reminded him of his own days in the Wolfsreik and how much he loved his kingdom.

“Lord Harnin, we were not expecting you.”

He looked down to see a familiar face staring back. Granite-like features dominated the man’s face. His skin was weathered from long years of campaign. Thick muscles corded his arms and chest. He casually reached up and clasped Harnin’s hand.

Harnin half smiled. “I did not have much of a choice. Rumors are circling that you’d been killed in bed with a young whore, General Rolnir.”

“With a very large whore, no doubt,” Rolnir laughed. “It is good to see you again, my friend.”

For a moment Harnin missed his army days. Both he and Rolnir enlisted at the same time and passed the trials. Connections to Badron’s father quickly pulled him from the ranks to palace guard. There were times when he regretted the decision.

“How go things in Chadra? We hear that the king is growing impatient,” Rolnir said.

Harnin replied “You always were one to get straight to the point. Our lord wants you to deploy with half of your full strength. The rest can follow on.”

“That’s madness.”

“A point I won’t argue.”

A gust of wind blew Rolnir’s long locks of silver hair. “There is a reason we have never been beaten. Our strength lies in our ability to fight as a cohesive unit. We are nothing at half strength. The king knows that he’d be sending us to our doom.”

“I tried telling him, but he refuses to listen,” Harnin calmly said. “How much longer before you can realistically march?”

Rolnir rubbed his chin. “We planned on at least three weeks. It will take that long just for all of our units to report in. Forget about getting all of the supplies collected and loaded for a sustained march.”

“Three weeks takes us close to winter’s edge.”

“True, but we still have no deployment orders. What is our target?” Rolnir asked.

“The same as it has always been. Rogscroft.”

The old soldier forced a smile. He saw no significant gain from conquering a kingdom on the far side of the Murdes Mountains. War was well and fine, but it needed to be done in a reasonable fashion. “Finally. I’ve been expecting this for a long time. Let us be done with that sad city and move on.”

“Badron agrees. We must be across the mountains before winter. Otherwise there is no point for any of this.” Harnin gestured to the field around them.

“Either way it will be dangerous. I’m more concerned about being cut off than fighting the Pell. Badron should have waited until spring.”

Harnin couldn’t argue. Badron was no tactician. That should have been left to the army. What Rolnir didn’t know was the intricate details revolving around the king and Maleela, or even the reasons Delranan was going to war. Still, Harnin owed his friend if he expected the continued fealty of the Wolfsreik.

“The initial plan was to invade once the snows melted, but circumstances demand otherwise. Princess Maleela, as I am sure you know, was abducted the same night the prince was killed. Matters have progressed sharply since.”

Rolnir’s eyes widened. Of course rumors ran wild about that night, but none of the details had been confirmed to him until now. Harnin continued to explain the events of that long night in Chadra Keep and how the royal family was virtually wiped out in the span of a few moments. He naturally left out key details, all for the greater good of Delranan.

Rolnir took it in stride. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard heart-stopping news. The royal family he’d been chartered with defending and blood sworn to protect was in ruins. The pain came from not being able to do much about it. He cursed his ill fortune for having been placed in such a dire situation.

“I do not envy you,” Harnin added.

In truth he didn’t. The Wolfsreik was trapped. They’d be destroyed if they moved too soon and damned if they moved too slowly to rescue the princess. Harnin debated telling his friend about the mission already underway but thought the better of it. There was always the slight chance of Rolnir not putting his heart into it if he knew that Bahr was taking a team by sea.

Rolnir was unperturbed. He folded his arms across his chest. “This wasn’t the way I planned on ending my day. Tell the king we shall do everything we can to speed the process, though realistically we can only shave off a few days at the most.”

“I understand.”

“The enemy picked the right time of year to strike. One might even say the perfect time. They hold all the advantages,” he added suspiciously.

“Rolnir, this is a difficult position for all of us. I will give your message to Badron and try to twist it so that it makes sense to him.”

“Harnin, I understand his devotion to his blood, but I will not risk the lives of this army so casually. They are my first priority. Delranan will be left open to invasion should the Wolfsreik fail.”

Harnin shifted uneasily. “Badron might not see the same point of view.”

Rolnir shrugged. “All the same.”

“Very well. Do what you must. The Wolfsreik must be battle ready if we are to have a future. Good hunting, old friend.”

Rolnir walked back to his command tent. An uneasy feeling gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for hurrying the certain death of the princess. On the same token, he wasn’t going to risk ten thousand lives for the sake of one. The decision was more difficult than any he’d had to make, but one that needed to be made soon.

The pair of men rode into Chadra without a sound. Concealed beneath heavy wool cloaks the color of midnight, they eased past the sentries by the use of arcane and foul magic. These men did not exist. Both were creatures of another time, another plain of existence. No one in Malweir remembered their truth. Exactly as they, and their masters, desired.

History named them demons. Shortsighted men who lacked the ability to know better scoffed at their mention and waved the notion off. Their origins remained a mystery to all but their masters. Both bore the guise of men, and were anything but. Only in times of dire importance did they manifest a physical form. Two rode into Chadra, but a total of four roamed the world.

“Did you feel that?” asked the nearest guard after the non-men passed.

His partner, trying desperately to stay warm beneath his bearskin cloak asked, “What are you talking about?”

“The cold. I just felt a deep chill down to my bones.”

He waived it off. “Shut up. You’re imagining things.”

Neither noticed the riders continue on into the city. The shorter rider grimaced with disgust. Once clear, he turned to the taller one. “Why do you insist on dealing with these pathetic mortals?”

“They serve their uses.”

“They are vermin, unworthy of cleaning the streets of horse dung.”

“Kodan, we need them if there is to be any chance of success.”

Kodan Bak wasn’t so sure. He’d been alive for tens of thousands of years and had yet to find value in any species on Malweir. Perhaps it was a reminder of his own mortal days, before he’d become enslaved to the powers that now dominated his every thought and deed.

Amar Kit’han slowly shook his head, the movement barely noticeable under the heavy hood. He was older, if just slightly, and used to the rash judgments of his counterpart. Not equals, the elder took Bak’s remarks with a grain of patience.

“Our success has always hinged on these pathetic creatures. As have our failures. They are nothing more than blight upon the world. I do not understand what you continue to see in them,” Bak persisted.

“We were once mortal ourselves.”

Kodan snarled. “Those days are hardly memories.”

“We all need to remember our beginnings.”

It was the same argument they’d had for millennia. Neither managed to see the other’s point of view. Kodan Bak hated humanity, almost as much as he did every other mortal race on Malweir. He wished desperately to be able to finish his task so that he could return to the cold nothingness that managed to give him his only comforts. They’d spent far too long here already, despite feeling the long anticipated ending coming closer. He was the harbinger.