The Madness of Gods and Kings (8 page)

She was light enough to barely leave any tracks, a feat Dorl couldn’t hope to match. He lumbered through the snow in comparison. Rekka found his attempts at stealth amusing, if not entirely hazardous. Eventually he’d make enough noise to rouse the suspicion of any eavesdroppers or spies in the area. She couldn’t let that happen but neither did she feel the need to chastise him for something beyond his control. He was far heavier than she and not trained in the arts of stealth. Jungle life demanded she control her movements lest she get caught and killed by one of the great predators. The people of Delranan had no natural predators large enough to worry over. Bears were the only animal capable of killing a man and they were seldom seen outside of the mountains and deep forests. Or so she’d been told by Artiss Gran.

Rekka took little comfort in that knowledge. That now familiar, eerie feeling of being stalked crept through her muscles. Her eyes never stayed on one target long enough to be caught in a trap. A professional tracker, she was unhurried in her task. Her sword rested lightly in her small hands. The weapon was an extension of her being. She’d spent countless hours drilling and training with the weapon until it became part of her. Rekka often questioned the need for such excessive techniques, never fully understanding or appreciating their value until this quest. She whispered silent prayers to the gods of light and continued the patrol.

Any comfort Rekka might have felt did not translate over to Dorl. Born and raised in the north, he was accustomed to winter’s harshness. That didn’t mean he enjoyed the cold. He hated it as much as he could hate anything. The deep, wild lands of Delranan weren’t his choice place for operating. He much preferred the cities and larger towns to conduct his business. Worse, he didn’t have Nothol with him to watch his back. The sell swords had worked together for so long they perfectly complemented each other. While his blossoming love with Rekka made him a better person, he still wasn’t used to working with her in a tactical sense.

Frustrated after sinking knee deep into yet another snow drift, Dorl cursed under his breath. “This is pointless. No one is out here.”

Rekka shut out his complaints. Her unyielding brown eyes focused intently on the dry creek bed that had become a game trail a few meters in front of them. She looked to both sides, ensuring nothing was near and knelt down at the creek edge. She traced a hand over the snow, lightly enough not to disturb it.

Dorl finally managed to pull his leg free and stumbled beside her. “What is it? Do you see something?”

Rekka ignored him and hopped down the short drop into the creek. What she saw made her freeze. Her sword rose instinctively. Hundreds of horse tracks, mixed with military issue boot prints, filled the creek bed. She pointed. “We are not alone.”

Dorl Theed gazed upon the seemingly endless stream of tracks and felt his world crumble. The tracks were less than a day old, if he was any judge. Not only were they not alone, but whoever else was here had a lot of strength. They needed to get back and warn the others.

Into the Wild

“We must back up and move, now,” Rekka said as she reentered the small camp.

The glow of their fire, small as it was, could be seen from nearly a third of a league away, marking their position for any prying eyes. She smelled the smoke long before spotting the glow. Rekka was torn. They needed the fire. The chances of freezing this deep in the wilds was too great to ignore. Compounding matters was Anienam’s sudden malady. Whatever comforts Trennaron offered were quickly becoming distant memory. They were back in the north, where the weak perished without thought.

Bahr rose from beside Anienam. “What do you mean?”

She explained quickly, knowing time was expiring. Bahr listened as she told of the tracks and what it meant. He didn’t feel the same concern as she, but recognized the fact they couldn’t stay where they were. Artiss Gran had given him a warning before they left Trennaron. The Blud Hamr was one of the most powerful magical talismans ever created. Evil would be drawn to it like moths to a flame. As much as he wanted to believe the tracks were nothing more than hunters he couldn’t take the risk. Army issue boots meant only one thing: the enemy was moving through the area. They had to be more cautious than ever before.

Reluctantly he nodded his agreement. “Pack everything nonessential. We leave at first light.”

“Will it be safe to travel in daylight?” Groge asked.

“More so than during the night,” Bahr answered. “It’s too risky to walk the horses in the dark and if our foes are nearby they will hear us or spot the lanterns long before we have the chance to flee. At least in sunlight we’ll be on even ground. All of you get some sleep now. I’ll take first watch.”

Dawn found the wagon trundling north. Bahr still wasn’t sure exactly where they had been transported to or where the ruins of Arlevon Gale were but they had to move. Sitting stagnant wasn’t productive and worse, time was steadily slipping through their fingers. The day Anienam Keiss long prophesied was almost upon them. The end of the world. Or the birth of a new one. Bahr still wasn’t sure what was about to happen.

No one had seen any other sign suggesting enemy patrols were in the area, thankfully. Boen rode ahead, screening the area and guiding them closer to a small range of hills. The clouds broke and the sky turned bright blue. Sunlight, cold in the winter day, blinded them. Weapons out, the tiny band moved north.

“Does it hurt?” Skuld asked timidly. He couldn’t imagine the world suddenly turning dark.

Anienam reached out and pat the back of Skuld’s hand. “Not in a way you’d think. I feel no physical pain but my memories are burned into me. It is unlike anything I have ever experienced. Most interesting if you think about it.”

Skuld didn’t want to think about it. In fact, the longer the quest drug on the more he wanted to return to his old life and forget the rest of the world. Sneaking aboard the
Dragon’s Bane
had been the biggest mistake of his young life. “Doesn’t the darkness bother you?”

“That’s where you are wrong. It’s not dark. Not in this world. I can see swirling patterns of light. Impossible, one might say. I can no longer see shapes. My world is considerably restricted. My other senses are amplified. I can smell better, feel better, hear sounds the rest of you take for granted and ignore. I must admit that it will take me some time to deal with losing my vision. It is most difficult living this way. My heart grows heavy with the thought that I will never be able to gaze upon the familiar sights of Malweir.”
Or that I won’t be able to see what I’m doing once the final battle arrives
.

He left the thought there. Worrying over the unchangeable served no purpose. He was blind and must accept it if was going to be able to move forward and contribute his special skillset to the group. They might not realize just how important Anienam was to the overall success or failure of their quest. He tried to downplay his importance, but the point was coming where he wouldn’t be able to hide it. War was a despicable act, among the worst in civilization’s litany of grievances, and the one about to erupt was unlike any seen in ten thousand years.

Skuld secretly thought the old man was crazy but he’d never muster the strength, or stupidity, to mention it. Losing vision seemed nearly as bad as having a limb cut off or, he shuddered at the thought, losing his tongue. He’d long had nightmares of the sharp blade of a dagger slicing through his tongue. The very thought turned his stomach and filled him with dread. He stared at the wizard with new found admiration. “Just let me know if you need anything. I will help you.”

Anienam smiled warmly. “Thank you, my boy. It doesn’t sit well with me to accept charity, but I’d be a damned old fool if I turned it down now. That being said, I’ll be sure to get your attention if I need help. I do, however, think you should be driving this wagon. Wouldn’t want to run into a ditch or a large boulder would we?”

They shared a nervous laugh and continued on.

Bahr listened to their banter and took hope. He’d worried the old man might turn in on himself and become reclusive. Certainly he was allowed to discover the depths of despair from his ailment. But Bahr knew Anienam wasn’t that sort of man. He’d gone through foul events over the course of his life few others could relate to. The tortured past of the order of Mages his legacy, Anienam made his way through life burdened by being the last of a long line. Bahr began to wonder if there was coincidence between the approaching final battle between the gods and the fact that Anienam was the last of his line. The idea certainly garnered attention.

He spurred his horse, deciding to catch up to Boen. Riding blindly with the wagon served no purpose and he needed to get his bearings. Nothing in the immediate area bore a hint of familiarity. Loath as he was to admit it, Bahr was lost in his own kingdom. A lesser man might suffer great embarrassment but Bahr never felt truly close with his homeland. The separation between brothers and the crown had much to do with that and, until recently, he harbored no regrets. His life was one of his choosing. Coming home after Harnin One Eye burned it all to the ground was disturbing.

Bahr found the Gaimosian riding slowly. There were no roads in this part of Delranan, telling Bahr they were well to the west of Chadra. Depending on where in the west they’d arrived, they had a great deal of travel east to find Arlevon Gale. The ruins were marked on every map as one of the few places to avoid at all costs. Dread things were said to haunt them. Rumors of those foolish enough to ignore the warnings only to disappear were spread throughout every village and hamlet in Delranan. Evil thrived where men seldom dared to dwell.

Hearing another rider approach, Boen reined in and turned. The look on his face was of satisfaction. He was back in his element. A Gaimosian’s strength lay in working alone in hostile situations. He took pride in being able to cut through enemy soldiers without thought or effort. A born warrior, he found working closely with others distasteful at best. Being an integral part of the group changed his perspective, slightly. He’d always enjoyed Bahr’s friendship, at least since their first adventure nearly thirty years ago. The battle with the Cave Trolls in the foothills of the Kergland Spine still brought its share of laughs and retellings.

His mind drifted as Bahr rode up to him. The Sea Wolf was in worse shape than Boen. It was a sad fact not unnoticed by the others. This quest was draining their lives, hollowing them out into crisped hulks. Boen was ready for it to be finished so that he might move on to warmer climates with less danger.

“It’s damned cold,” he grumbled. His eyes were just as cold as the freshly fallen snows and hard as the ice coating. “I was getting used to the jungle again.”

Bahr eyed him queerly. How could anyone get used to the sweltering heat of a jungle, especially when they came from the north? He’d be just as pleased if he never saw Brodein again. “You get used to the cold. Besides, it won’t last much longer. Winter is nearly done. The spring thaws aren’t far off.”

“Far enough if you ask me,” Boen replied. “Shouldn’t you be back with the wagon? The others will need you more than I do.”

Bahr struggled not to find insult in the comment. “They talk too much. Have you seen anything?”

He shook his head. “Nothing but birds. This isn’t a very habitable part of the kingdom. Not enough trees or rivers.”

“I can’t help that, at least it gives me a vague idea of where we are.” He paused as a small wind devil whirled across the snow. He half expected Boen to ask the obvious. “Chadra is far to the east and the ruins even farther. I don’t know exactly how far, but we’ve got a long way to go before Groge can use the hammer.”

Boen crossed his wrists over the saddle’s pommel and leaned forward, stretching the tensed muscles of his back. “This could be lovely country if not for all of the snow.”

“Have you seen any tracks?” Bahr shifted the conversation. They’d come too far to waste time with idle banter. Each knew the other’s strength and weaknesses. Small talk wasn’t for either man.

Boen shook his head. “Nothing human. There’s plenty of game around but none of the heavy horse or infantry Rekka claims to have seen. Are we sure she was accurate?”

“I trust her more than some of the others,” Bahr admitted. The jungle woman was standoffish to the point it was almost uncomfortable being around her but she had proven her worth several times over. “If she says she saw tracks I believe her.”

He wished he didn’t. This far out in the wilds there was no reason for an armed patrol. It didn’t make sense. “Boen, we’re missing some vital element to this mess.”

“That being?” the big Gaimosian asked without hesitation. He’d gone over their impossible scenario a hundred times and still hadn’t come up with an answer.

Bahr stifled a yawn. “We know there’s a rebellion against Harnin going on. Lord Argis abandoned us to aid them. Without the proper infrastructure there’s no reason for the enemy to be patrolling this far west, if we are as west as I think we are. Not even the rebels would be operating this far out.”

“Unless they’ve been driven from the cities,” Boen countered. “Rebellions seldom end well. Most are crushed by the reigning monarchs. The others manage to overthrow the throne but do so with extreme violence that betrays their own motives. Kingdoms have shattered under such. It’s not hard to imagine the same happening in Delranan.”

As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Bahr held the same suspicions. The more he became invested in this quest the more he began to care for his kingdom. Frowning, he knew what he had to do, not only for himself but for the good of the people. “Perhaps Argis altered their direction and pulled Harnin out of Chadra. We can’t assume the rebellion has failed or succeeded at this point. There’s not enough information.”

“We should focus on what we control,” Boen offered. Thinking about the infinite number of futures they were heading towards served little purpose.

Reluctantly Bahr agreed. They needed to get their bearings and set the proper course. Much as he enjoyed the quiet the countryside offered, he needed to get his group moving in the right direction. Each day they wandered aimlessly with the Blud Hamr threatened to bring more of their enemies closer. A giant target was painted on their backs and he needed to get rid of it before something bad claimed them.

“Once we reach those hills to the northwest I should be able to get a better notion as to where we are,” he said.

“In the meantime?”

“Keep your eyes open. Let me know the moment you see anything, whether it’s tracks or smoke from a chimney,” Bahr paused. “We keep moving until then.”

Boen unfolded his hands and picked up the reins. He clicked his horse forward as Bahr turned to leave. Snow burst upwards from a score of positions surrounding them. Men and women dressed in all white and armed with long spears, swords, and crossbows surrounded the pair. Bahr reached for his sword as his horse bucked from shock. Boen already had his out, the cold steel glimmering in the sunlight.

“Put your weapons down and raise your hands. Do as we say and no one needs to die,” the stern voice commanding them echoed across the plain.

Bahr felt his heart sink. They’d been captured.