Hammers in the Wind (20 page)

“Then Malweir will burn.”

Neither of them noticed the pale-faced man gaping at them from shadows of his own.

Lord Argis hurried past the Dae’shan without so much as a glance. His mind was focused. His chest was near bursting with information that needed to be told. A foreboding consumed him. He was more worried now than ever before. War was fast approaching, or worse. Argis felt himself slowly slipping into that foul place he often feared to go. Pulling his cloak tighter to fight off the cold wind, he hurried off into the city and to the ones who needed to know.

A pair of older men emerged from a side street. Covering down on both sides, they fell into step. Each wore haggard looks, as if they had done this too many times. Their clothes were poor cloth, boots ragged. A second pair, this time much younger and violent looking, fell in behind. The cold wooden handles of truncheons poked from beneath their heavy overcoats. They eyed Argis with undisguised contempt. Argis continued walking.

“Come with us,” the man on his right said.

The air was chill. The first winter storm was already working down from the roof of the world. Soon it would expend fury on Delranan. Winter, however, had nothing to do with the icy fingers dancing down his spine. They moved with purpose, as eager to be by the warmth of a fire as they were to conduct the necessary business. Armed patrols continued throughout the city. Argis knew there wasn’t much danger until a patrol decided that five odd and armed men were a potential threat. After that the entire garrison would be down upon them.

They finally arrived at a small cottage on the far side of town. The soft glow coming from the frosted window suggested warmth and hospitality. Argis welcomed the ideas, all the while knowing what awaited. Those he came to meet would be anything but happy. They would listen to his tale and take his words with a measure of cynicism. No one would be willing to accept him on face value. He was a valuable member of Badron’s inner council. Just because he was here now did not mean much. A thousand soldiers might easily be awaiting his signal. Argis steeled himself for the scrutiny and followed the first man inside as the younger men took up guard positions near the door.

Four men and two women stood in a half circle around an old table. Layers of dust coated the aged pine. A broken mug rested beside a pile of melted candle wax. Argis looked down at the small black and yellow spider stalking across, oblivious of the greater importance going on around it. The rest of the cottage was bland, as empty of life as it was of a lived-in feel. This was one of the many safe houses established throughout Chadra by the Delranan underground movement.

He met the gazes of his judges without shame. They were farmers, peasants. None posed a significant threat to the king until they combined with the thousands of dissatisfied citizens across the kingdom. Each of those assembled thanked the Fates for the providence of having one of Badron’s own in their council, for the king was a violent and unforgiving man. Death awaited them all should he learn of their identities. Fortunately, none of the safe houses had yet been discovered.

Argis stood before the informal council and bowed his greetings. Shadows and firelight clashed across the background, alternating concealing parts of their faces and placing them in vivid view. None of that mattered to him. He didn’t particularly care who these people were. Their lives were not as important as his. Separately they meant nothing. It was their combined presence that had the potential to change things.

The eldest of the council struck a metal-tipped staff on the dirty wooden floor three times in quick succession. The murmur circling the council died off. Silence gripped the room, as if emphasizing the ominous portent tomorrow held. They stared hard at Argis, judging him before he opened his mouth. Suspicious guilt played in their eyes. As a senior ranking leader of the kingdom, he was unused to such treatment. It comforted and chilled him. Here he was just another face, another asset in a growing struggle.

“No names shall be spoken,” the elder announced.

His voice was dry and cracked as he spoke. The years had not been kind. His skin was old and wrinkled, dried from prolonged exposure to the harsh northern elements. Argis recognized him for the farmer he was. Surprisingly, this farmer commanded a power comparable to that of King Badron himself. If only Badron was able to surmise the goings-on under his very nose, Argis mused.

“There shall be no names,” echoed the others, Argis included.

The soft cackle of burning wood was the only sound for a time. Argis felt as if he were being measured.

“What news do you bring this late in the night?” the elder asked once he was satisfied all was in proper order.

Argis cleared his throat. “I have come before you to warn of a grave danger.”

The council murmured again. A look of latent concern spread across their aged faces.

A dark-haired female asked, “What possible danger? We know that the king assembles the Wolfsreik and prepares for war.”

“His war is of minimal concern for us,” said a redheaded man, one of the town smiths.

The woman agreed. “Badron will make his war. Nothing we do will have an effect on it. Surely there must be more?”

Argis wished there wasn’t. “It is not Badron’s war that need concern us. The danger I speak of is far more sinister. I have been witness to a new darkness this night.”

“You speak in riddles,” the elder stated. “These nights have all grown dark over the past few weeks. Speak plainly.”

“I saw two creatures, not of Delranan, perhaps not of Malweir. They moved as if in water, more gliding than walking. I do not know what to make of them other than they had an ill presence and spoke in whispers of the end of the world.”

“Perhaps they were shades of the dead,” the redhead suggested.

“No,” Argis argued. “I have seen shades before. They neither speak nor plot. These did both. I felt a great malice surging off of them, as if they were the definition of evil.”

The council remained unconvinced.

“Danger you say. The only danger in Delranan is the will of the king,” the elder replied. “It is that matter which has drawn us together in purpose and intent.”

“You would discount my words so quickly without hearing me fully?”

Argis struggled to bite back on his rising anger. He was a councilor to a king and unaccustomed to being dismissed. Still, he needed these people if there was even the slightest chance of saving the kingdom from tearing itself apart in civil war. He let his humility take control and folded his hands over his belt.

The elder spread his hands in a futile gesture. “Very well. Tell us of these strange creatures that have you so spooked.”

Argis drew a deep breath, still unsure exactly what he had seen. He did not know how to convey the sheer dread they inspired and was left with a sickly feeling in the marrow of his bones.

“They walked as men but were wreathed in shadow. I could see
through
them. Delranan is in grave danger. I overhead them speak of a private meeting with the king. They spoke of going to Thrae next to incite the Goblin clans. It is as if they are behind this war. I do not pretend to understand how this is so, but it was enough to spark terror in my heart. I fear for us all.”

“If what you say is true our task to recover Princess Maleela must be considered secondary.”

It was the woman’s turn to disagree. “This conspiracy exists for the sake of the princess. She is our concern.”

“Can’t you people see? These creatures are using us to start a war. They whispered something of their
masters
. They are clearly working for some higher power. We must discover the truth in this and figure out a way to stop them before Badron dooms us to a course of action from which there is no return.”

“But the princess?” the woman protested.

Argis slammed a fist into his palm. “She is beyond any of us! Our trust must fall to Prince Aurec now. Pray he and his father can keep her safe.”

“From the Wolfsreik?” scoffed the redhead.

“They have never been beaten,” the elder reminded.

Argis himself had once been a proud member of the vaunted army. He knew their strengths and weaknesses and was smart enough to realize that no level of insurrection was capable of staying the killing blow once the campaign began.

“No they haven’t. Nor are we capable of doing such at this time,” he said.

The elder blinked rapidly. “What then makes you assume the people of Rogscroft will stand a better chance?”

“They have an army,” he replied, some of the hotness leaving him. “They have the ability to turn the war against the Wolfsreik. We would be slaughtered for the peasants we are in the span of a single night.”

“Wouldn’t this war be considered a good thing?” asked another man, a youth who had remained silent until now.

“In what way?” the elder asked.

“They won’t think of looking for us if they are busy fighting a war. We can save the princess and finally overthrow Badron.”

Argis grimaced. They were missing the point. All of his talk of monsters and dark forces was wasted on limited minds.

The elder sensed this as well. “Forgive our young counterpart. I fear he still suffers from the delusions of youth. Regardless of the Wolfsreik, we are faced with a grave decision. If what you say is true, our enemies may have doubled. You are close to the king. We need you to watch for any significant changes. His actions over the next few days may give us a clue as to his intentions.”

Argis knew he had already lost the argument. Clenching his teeth, he stood motionless. “Very well, but I leave you with caution. These dark
things
will be back and we are unprepared to stop them. I pray your inaction will not be the death of us all.”

Argis drew his cloak about his shoulders and stormed from the cottage. The fools, he cursed. They were so preoccupied with their petty rebellion they weren’t willing to see the bigger picture. Argis was sickened with premonitions of disaster. He was angry and seemingly alone. He’d made his decisions and was now forced to live with them. Unfortunately, he doubted anyone else was willing to see matters through. That left him stuck.

There was no going back to Harnin or Badron, although it would be easy to betray the rebellion and be labeled a hero. That didn’t remove the fact that he had been the one to leave the secret passage open for Aurec to sneak inside Chadra Keep. Not only that, but he was the one who had slain Badron’s son. That sin he would take to the grave. It also stood to reason that if Badron was in league with these monsters so too was Harnin. Argis scowled within the confines of his hood.  Delranan was in jeopardy. His life was insignificant compared to that of his kingdom.

A cock crowed off in the dying night. It was time to return to the Keep and attend the king. Argis stalked off, eager to return before suspicions were raised.

King Badron awoke unexpectedly for the second time this night. His head was pounding, much like the nights he’d overindulged on wine with his captains. When he moved he found his entire body was sore. Perhaps it was the after effects of his meeting with the Dae’shan. The thought of them made him tremble.

“My lord, are you all right?”

He opened his eyes, shielding them from the sudden burn of sunlight. “Harnin?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Badron groaned. “What time is it?”

“Three glasses past dawn, almost noon.”

Noon? Damnation
. “Why was I allowed to sleep so long?”

Harnin One Eye cleared his throat, giving Badron the feeling of apprehension. “The house jarl heard voices late in the night. We judged it best to let you sleep.”

Voices in the night. Badron cursed himself. Fear made him careless and now another man knew he had received unexpected visitors. He almost panicked. If word spread through the household it might prove disastrous for them all. Badron knew he must act quickly if he was going to be able to keep his dealings private. Unfortunately he did not have the luxury of waiting on the Dae’shan’s return. He had to act now.

Badron motioned for water, which Harnin graciously supplied. The king drank deep as his eyes slowly adjusted to the sunlight. Harnin stood patiently at the foot of the bed with an expectant look in his eye. Greedy bastard, Badron thought as he set the mug down.
Very well, a secret I shall give him
.

“Lord Harnin, do I have your full trust and confidence?” he asked with a measured voice.

Harnin feigned momentary confusion. He had obviously spoken with the jarl. “Unquestionably.”

Badron gave him a stern look but did not speak his thoughts. Instead he said, “I have something you should know. Listen closely, for this affects the future of the kingdom. I did indeed have visitors last night. Two of them to be precise.”

Harnin passed his first test and remained silent. He listened intently to a man he’d known for decades as he wove an impossible tale of creatures that could not exist. A small part of him recoiled at the telling. That part was much smaller than he expected. The one eye clung to every word. The horror was initially too much but then greed set in. He envisioned a new world of possibilities. A world where he might rise to be king himself. A terrible warlord of the frozen north. Harnin concealed the glee he felt inside.