Tides of Blood and Steel (11 page)

His normally stern gaze settled on his niece and softened. There was a small measure of solace in the purity of her sleeping face. She seemed almost peaceful. Firelight framed her face, handsomely accented by her long dark hair. Naturally angled, her chin bore a softness he could recall seeing in her mother. Everything I do now is for you, he thought. Bahr found himself smiling. His heart was much lighter, practically forcing a yawn. Perhaps sleep was not his enemy after all.

The Sea Wolf claimed a spot and laid his head upon a balled-up cloak. He drifted off the moment his head touched the fur.

Anienam Keiss glanced up from the book they’d risked so much to find. A wry smile cracked his thin lips. He felt positive about this group of would-be heroes. All were normal people with everyday issues; some suffered from selfishness while others ached with selflessness. The important part was that none wanted to be a hero or a champion of fate remembered in song and tales for generations to come. They did what they did because they had to, and that was a comforting thought.

Too many times in the past he and his father Dakeb had gathered men and women and gone off to combat one of the many facets of evil threatening Malweir. They weren’t always the best, but they were the best available. Anienam struggled to find a bright side. Never before had the odds been stacked so high against him. Natural doubt crept into his mind.

The thoughts disturbed him so much he failed to see Rekka Jel slink across the shadowed room. She laid her weapons down and eased over to where Dorl Theed slept. His companion and battle buddy, Nothol Coll, had volunteered to pull the first guard shift and was no doubt standing on the front porch freezing right now. Anienam insisted that his wards were enough to protect them against all but the strongest dark magics. No one wanted to be the one who took chances at this stage of the adventure. The stakes were raised much too high.

That was why she was able to make up her mind so easily. The secrets of her coming north continually threatened to get the better of her. It was all she could do to suppress the urge to break down and tell someone, anyone. Tonight there would be no conflict. She knew what she wanted, for it was more desire than need. Rekka had to feel human again. All of those she’d killed begged for release from her eternal self-torment. She lifted Dorl’s blanket and curled into him.

“What?” he asked groggily.

She closed her soft brown eyes and whispered, “Shhh.”

Neither of them resisted what happened next. The rest of the world could wait.

A soft wind swirled handfuls of dead leaves in front of him but Nothol lacked an appreciation for it. His mind raced. So much had happened he wasn’t sure exactly where he stood. His friends were changing daily, forcing him to change with them. He and Dorl had signed on to keep Bahr safe, nothing more. That part was finished. The conditions changed drastically. Their lives were effectively over. There seemed little doubt the pair would be forced to flee Delranan. They weren’t even a part of the war and yet it consumed them.

He thumbed the edge of his sword. Many decision points lay before them. He hoped for the strength to keep going. His heart hurt and he didn’t know why. Nothol felt the past finally catching up to him. It was all he could do not to cry. He steeled himself against the night and watched the moonlit fields of frost.

The Heroes Go East

Anienam interlaced his fingers over his head and stretched. His bones groaned and snapped from degenerative arthritis, causing a frown. He hated getting old. Age was the one thing that left him truly helpless. No amount of magic in any language or from any race could prevent the tides of time from washing him away. There was no way of telling how much time he had left and that was the most disturbing facet. His father had spent countless centuries roaming Malweir in an ultimately vain attempt at stopping evil from taking root. He died without ever seeing that dream fulfilled.

Anienam did not suffer from the same delusions. Evil was eternal, a part of Malweir that could not be excised. Neither evil nor good had the ability to outlive each other. They were reciprocal, mocking yet complimentary. Each needed the other to bring forth the best in races. Entire races dedicated themselves to the pursuit of one or the other. That was the true tragedy of life. He’d never met a Goblin with the propensity to commit an act of kindness. They were savage, brutal creatures with deep emotions that thrived on hatred. Conversely, the Fey seemed incapable of doing harm. Too often they’d been slaughtered for those personal convictions.

Doing his best to force the thoughts away, Anienam settled back in his chair and continued reading. The book was dry, a common failing of the period. The author promoted a high opinion of himself. Anienam reached over and took a sip of tea. No wonder this book was lost, he grimaced.
I can barely read it without falling asleep
. He started flipping through the aged pages. The text went on about this god or that and the qualifying factors that made them gods.

He was just about to give up for the night when he stumbled into what he was desperately looking for. Or so he believed. His heart beat a little faster.
This could be it. Secrets lost since the days before Ipn Shal.
He grew giddy and devoured every word with renewed interest. Seventeen pages later he set the book down. His grin bordered on permanent. Secrets opened to him. He’d discovered the truth of the Blud Hamr.

Anienam glanced to his sleeping companions and decided to let them sleep. Exhaustion reached out to claim him as well. It had been a long day. Marking his place in the book, he set it down and decided to catch a few hours of sleep.

The hearty smell of cooking bacon and roasted late summer tomatoes woke them with growling stomachs. Half felt like they’d just left a tavern. Bahr didn’t find anything wrong with that. A cold flagon of ale would have made getting up worthwhile. Boen seemed the only one unaffected from last night’s events. The Gaimosian rose to his full height and stretched, a throaty growl accenting it. He’d slept the most and recovered his strength. Boen looked ready to go to war. He smiled at the smells enticing him. That smile froze upon seeing Rekka and Dorl snuggled together.

“These are strange times,” Bahr told his friend.

Boen merely shook his head and went into the kitchen. Bahr puzzled him. He was a good friend and a stalwart companion, but he had too many ghosts haunting him. Boen empathized. Gaimosians spent most of their lives being chased by ghosts. He pushed the thought aside as he passed Anienam. The wizard was face down in that dusty old book snoring. Skuld sat behind the old man, staring out the nearest window as if waiting for Harnin to come. Certainly plausible, the thought made Boen frown. He’d love to run his sword through that one-eyed bastard. More, he liked Skuld. The lad showed character when needed. He had a fire in him that often reminded Boen of his own youth. Satisfied, Boen snatched a mouthful of bacon and went outside.

Argis turned at the soft click of the door opening.

“There is hot food and tea brewing,” Boen announced more gruffly than intended.

Argis sheathed his sword, frowning at the thin veil of frost coating the blade. “I would rather have sleep. It has been damned cold out the last few nights. Winter is finally here. My old bones don’t agree with the weather the way they used to.”

“A terrible thing, getting old,” Boen agreed.

“Indeed.”

Argis stared at the Gaimosian a moment, silently wondering the man’s true intentions. He decided to let matters remain unspoken and went inside, looking over his shoulder only once. Argis was surprised to see the Gaimosian stretching out his immense muscles. No doubt Boen meant to practice his sword techniques. Argis was no stranger to battle, but this was not his place. He closed the door behind him.

The pleasant smell of breakfast greeted him. It was the last thing he expected. His companions were a rough lot used to the hardships in life. Simple luxuries were more of a nuisance. He idly wondered how many men they had killed between them. Of course there was no point in wasting his time trying to figure it out, he was just glad they were all on the same side. For now.

“Well, Argis, it looks like we’ll be parting company soon,” Bahr said between bites of toasted bread.

“What did I miss?”

The Sea Wolf gestured towards Anienam. “The wizard claims he’s discovered our destination. We should be leaving shortly.”

Argis nodded at the implications. Part of him dreaded going back to Chadra and battling his former friends. There was little doubt his toughest trials were yet to come. Harnin had once been a trusted friend and ally. They knew everything about each other and that made the situation complicated. He tried to take heart from the thoughts of his allies in the underground. It was on those men and women that the fate of Delranan laid.

“You truly mean to go with this?” Argis asked.

“What choice do we have? Every hour we delay brings both kingdoms closer to an undesirable end. My brother’s madness needs to be stopped. Who better to do the job than me?”

Argis sighed. “I do not envy your task. Badron is a hard man and he has the backing of the Wolfsreik.”

He reached out to shake Bahr’s hand. A variety of emotions collided within him. Part wanted to march with the tired sea captain while the bigger part demanded he remain accessible to his people. The underground stood no chance without his insight. Even then, it was only a slight chance for victory.

“Your path is no less difficult. Harnin is a snake, always has been. He won’t be easy to bring down, not with those damned Dae’shan aiding him. Good luck, Argis. I hope you succeed. Our people have suffered enough.”

Argis nodded and replied, “Luck be with you. Hopefully we will meet again when this is finished.”

He let the thought hang. It was a certainty that some of this group would not be coming back alive.

Bahr picked up on that, too, and forced a tight smile. “Perhaps we could do with praying to these gods of Anienam’s.”

“Goodbye, Captain.”

Argis collected his gear, what little he had, and left without drawing too much more attention. The others had too much to worry about and his destiny beckoned. The door swung shut swiftly behind him.

Bahr anxiously cracked his knuckles and went back into the kitchen. Anienam watched him expectantly.

Bahr took the bait. “What’s the good word? Tell me you found what you were looking for.”

“I believe so. At least the answers to a great many questions,” the wizard said. There was just a hint of excitement to his tone.

“Nearby I hope,” Boen commented.

“Yes and no.”

Dorl rolled his eyes, shrugging off the sense of embarrassment at being caught with Rekka, and tossed his hands up. “Here we go again.”

“Have patience, mercenary. All is not necessarily as dark as you would have it,” Anienam scolded. “The book specifically tells us that there is only one group of beings in Malweir who know where the hammer is hidden.”

“And they are?” Bahr asked.

Anienam cleared his throat. “The Giants of Venheim.”

A collective gasp of disbelief circled the room.

“What?”

“That is impossible.”

The wizard held up his hands for silence. “Venheim is the key to what we seek.”

“Anienam, I do not disagree with your book, but even the smallest child knows that the Giants are a myth. Venheim does not exist. There is no forge in the mountains.”

“Myths and legends always begin in reality. I’ve seen more unexplainable things over the course of the last three hundred years than you could imagine. Giants are just as real as any other race on Malweir.”

Dorl had had enough. “Something that big would have been seen. How can a Giant hide?”

“Plenty of races choose to remain hidden. Why should the Giants be any different?” Anienam countered.

Bahr saw the conversation quickly devolving into an all-out argument and moved to stop it. “I trust this book tells us where to find these Giants?”

The wizard stared back indignantly. “Of course it does. I did say that they weren’t far away, didn’t I?”

“Where do we go from here?” Bahr asked.

“To the base of the Murdes Mountains. That is where we will find the pass that takes us up to the forge of Giants.”

“It is not that simple,” Nothol interrupted. “The Murdes Mountains are treacherous. We all know the stories of the Pell Darga, but they pale when compared to the broken paths of the mountains. Dorl and I have crossed too many times. Even as skilled as we are, it is pure chance that we lived to tell of it. The skeletons of those less fortunate line the passes, judging us from beyond the grave.”

“Be that as it may, that is our destination.”

Bahr cleared his throat. “Does the book specify just where this forge is? The Murdes Mountains range for five hundred meters. We could spend the rest of our lives searching.”

Anienam suppressed mild anger and read from the book.
“We traveled south, pushing the wagon team to the point of exhaustion. The captain was adamant about haste. He kept telling us this quest was towards winning the war. Day and night, we stopped only to rest the horses. No one was really sure where we were going until we chanced upon the shaman.