Tides of Blood and Steel (30 page)

“You dare!” roared the Giant on the right.

Blue wizard fire cackled off Anienam’s hands. The spry man stood his ground. “We did not come here to fight you.”

“You should not have come at all.” He took a menacing step towards them.

Anienam offered a tight smile. “Come no closer, I warn you.”

Both Giants finally understood what they faced. A wizard. “There are no more Mages on Malweir. What trickery is this?”

They had heavy brows jutting over beady eyes. Bahr immediately compared them to Men. Aside from their foreheads, the Giants were just bigger versions of his friends. Nearly five meter-tall versions.

“I am Anienam Keiss, son of Dakeb.”

The Giants passed an uneasy glance, murmuring to each other in their language. The sound hurt Bahr’s ears. It was crude, un-evolved, and filled with harsh sounds.

“The name of Dakeb is known to us,” the obvious leader said. “But Dakeb had no son. You lie.”

Anienam exhaled his growing frustration. “Do you truly doubt me? I have already shown you what I can do. Dakeb was my father. I have no reason to lie. He adopted me not long after Gren fell. It was his wish to rebuild the order of Mages once the Silver Mage was vanquished. It is the great shame of my life that I have not been able to succeed in his name.”

The answer seemed to satisfy the Giant guardians. The larger one, heavily armored with a more dangerous aura, knelt before the shriveled wizard. Dark eyes searched Anienam for traces of falsehood. The Giant softened after a moment.

“Why have you come?” he asked.

The Giant, Groge, left his partner at the mouth of the pass and escorted Anienam’s party back to Venheim. Giant and wizard spoke along the way. Groge ignored the rest. They were nothing more than a bodyguard as far as he was concerned and, therefore, of little consequence.

“My grandfather accompanied Dakeb on a quest once,” Groge admitted proudly.

Blindfolded, Anienam feigned a smile. “My father often sought help from many races on Malweir. He understood, as do I, that none of us holds the key to ultimate success or failure. He was a wise man. More should have learned from his example.”

Groge nodded, instantly feeling foolish. Blindfolding them was one of the firmest
points he demanded if they expected to move on to Venheim. Giants were secretive by nature. They had tribes spread out across the high places of the world. None were so sacred as the mighty forge atop the Murdes Mountains. Groge expected a harsh return with repercussions for violating the standing order not to allow outsiders in. Still, he led them into the main valley with his head high. Several of his kin stopped to stare at the intruders. It had been over a century since one not of their blood ventured into the forge. Several warriors went for weapons capable of rending a man apart in a single swipe. A ring of warriors slowly formed around the wagon. Horses bucked from fright. Swords were drawn.

“These Men are under my protection,” Groge warned.

“Stand aside, whelp,” snapped the obvious leader.

Tensions rose. The Giants inched closer. Bahr and the others could only wonder at what was happening. Death crept upon them without the decency of letting them see it coming.

“Stop!” growled a stern voice. “These people should not be harmed.”

Venheim

The two sides stood apart. Hands twitched, eager for the comforting feel of steel while the Giants merely clenched their fists with anticipation. Fighting was almost alien to the gentle beings, but even a glancing blow would kill one of Bahr’s friends. Sweat bead across their brows, inspired by the near unbearable heat radiating from the forges. Acidic smells of sulfur and melted iron ore left the sky dusty, contaminated.

“Forgive me, elder,” Groge apologized. “But I do not believe these people mean us any harm.”

The elder sneered. “Such decisions are not yours to make. They could be harbingers for a thing far worse than what they claim.”

Groge moved next to the wagon, ignoring the ring of warriors threatening to attack. “This man claims to be the son of Dakeb.”

Hushed conversation broke out. All knew the legend of the last Mage. Dakeb had been considered a friend amongst the Giant clans. An entire army of Giants once fought alongside the Mage and his meager allies during one of Malweir’s darkest times. The Mage Wars was the last time Giants had moved freely among the race of Men. Too many warriors had been killed. In the end, it was not a difficult decision. The Giants chose to abandon the rest of Malweir and became myth to all but a few.

Dakeb was one who always came to visit, for he had many friends down through the generations. The Giants mourned his death for many years, as was their custom. His loss became a pained scar across the face of the world. The Mages were finally gone. For all of their good and bad, the once protectors of Malweir came to an end. The world became a lesser place.

None of that factored into the elder’s current position.

“Perhaps he speaks true, but that does not give him the right to defile this place.”

Another Giant came forward. Immeasurably old, his very presence commanded respect. “Let the son of Dakeb speak. I wish to hear what he has to say.”

Groge helped Anienam down from the wagon. Giant elders were elected by popular vote, but the ancient one held respect and reverence from his lifetime of deeds. Anienam removed the blindfold and stared up at the circle of Giants.

The elder frowned, but remained quiet. “Very well. Speak, son of Dakeb. Tell us why you have violated our privacy.”

The wizard had expected a harsh reception. The Giants had been his father’s friends, not his. He spoke with quiet authority, telling them everything that they needed to know. Naturally he left certain matters out and emphasized others. Mention of the Dae’shan caused another round of murmurs. Their evil was well known to the older races. Rumor held that a Giant had once been part of that foul group. Anienam clasped his hands behind his back upon finishing his tale.

“The Blud Hamr! Impossible,” spat the elder.

Giants erupted in debate. No human was meant to hold the sacred hammer, let alone use it in battle. Anienam concealed his satisfaction. He’d planned for just this sort of reaction. Long nights spent researching had opened doors for the wizard. He knew the hammer’s true purpose and the origins of such a fantastical weapon. He glanced back as the men and women he had come to call friends still squirmed under their blindfolds. Only Boen seemed unaffected.

The ancient Giant slammed the iron tip of his walking staff on the ground. “The Blud Hamr has its own destiny. We are forbidden from denying the one chosen. Blekling, I shall take the son of Dakeb and discuss his quest in my quarters. Have the others housed and fed. They are not our foes.”

Blekling, the elder, scowled. Clearly struggling with his emotions, he finally relented. “Very well. It shall be as you say, but know this, Joden, if so much as one of them causes trouble, I will have them all thrown from the tallest peak. They remain here only by your good will.”

Joden ignored him. He was the greatest forge master in centuries and his word carried more weight than many of the elders combined.

“Untie the others. Groge, they are your responsibility now,” Blekling snapped.

The elder stormed off as the circle of warriors dissolved. The novelty of strangers quickly wore off. It wasn’t long before the symphony of hammers danced in the air again. Groge did as ordered, leading them back to his massive stone home nestled in a small cut in the cliff face. Most Giant homes were carved from the mountainside. Impressive stained glass windows reflected the majesty of the dawn sun. Everything about Venheim suggested beauty. The smell of roasting meat clung to the fading daylight. An impressive building much larger than any of the intruders had ever seen took up the entire back of the valley.

Bahr’s jaw dropped at the sight of sprawling buttresses and imposing granite walls. “What is that?”

“Our cathedral.”

Groge’s answer was so simple it was dismissive, as if everyone should know the answer.

“Cathedral for what?” Maleela asked.

The innocence in her tone alone was what made Groge answer. “It is where we go to pray to god. Do your people not have such places?”

She shook her head, suddenly feeling very foolish. “The gods have not been worshipped since before the Mage Wars. They are all but forgotten now.”

The implication for the young Giant was staggering. Faith in a higher power kept his people disciplined and provided purpose. “How do you live without the gods’ favor?”

“Perhaps we don’t. Malweir is a dangerous place, Groge,” she answered. “The only gods we know are the dark ones that now threaten us.”

“Perhaps it was that lack of faith that drove your gods away. Malweir was not always as you describe it. At least that is what our priests tell us.”

Groge had an almost childish attitude that became evident when he spoke. Maleela found it refreshing and odd for a being so large. Curiosity soon beat out prudence. “How old are you?”

He appeared embarrassed. “One hundred nine.”

She gasped. “Surely you are joking.”

“No. I only recently achieved adulthood,” he said indignantly.

She paused. “Oh, I am sorry. I did not mean to offend you. I only thought that you were much older.”

“Giants are not considered mature until we reach one hundred. Joden, the one who forced Blekling to back down, is almost four hundred years old. He is the oldest Giant ever recorded. I would be lucky to have such a life.”

Tension evaporated. Maleela suddenly felt at ease. The Giants had been terrifying to behold initially, but their subtle charms began to wear down her defenses. If nothing else, she knew that they would all sleep soundly tonight. She spared a look to Rekka Jel. The smaller, darker woman displayed no emotion. Maleela made a note to ask her what was wrong once they had time.

“This is my home,” Groge announced.

Bahr and Boen dismounted. They were so alike Maleela often had trouble distinguishing between them. She idly wondered why her father had turned out so differently from them. They were strong, dependable men. She had no issue with placing her life in their hands. Her father, on the other hand, might slip a knife between her shoulder blades given the opportunity.

She looked around, dismayed that she was the only one interested in casual conversation. “Do you live here alone?”

“Yes,” he replied. “We all do. It is one of the privileges of being allowed in Venheim.”

Nothol Coll finally gave in to the urge to know more. “I was under the impression that all Giants lived here.”

Groge emphatically shook his head. “No, this is the sacred forge. Only a handful are selected to apprentice here. I was chosen nine years ago to come and learn from the forge masters. My family is greatly honored.”

“Where is your family?” Maleela asked.

The question was innocent enough, but Groge was careful with the answer. Some secrets needed to be kept. “They are back in my village.”

Nothol had plenty of questions he could have asked, but Groge’s answer proved they would be a waste of time. The Giant may be young by their standards, but he was not about to give away the secrets of his people. The implications of his answer were satisfying enough. There must be Giant villages spread across the world. If such was the case, why had no one seen a Giant? Either they didn’t want to be found or they were busy preparing for something big. Nothol shrugged the notion off. Superstitions didn’t belong.

“You must get lonely here,” Maleela commented.

Groge responded like a man who tried not to think on it. “There are moments, but the honor of learning from the greats is too much to pass up. We go to the chapel to pray when we grow too lonely.”

“Faith has that much power?” Nothol asked.

The idea was more than intriguing. The only thing he ever placed faith in was his will and a good sword. Man, even his best friend Dorl, was fallible. He supposed much the same could be said of a sword. Steel was breakable. Still, that left no room for any kind of gods, light or dark.

Groge led them inside.

“Please, my home is yours.”

Bahr cleared his throat. He was still upset with not being allowed to go with Anienam. The old man had a way of keeping secrets, secrets Bahr felt he should know. “Where can we stable our horses? They need to be looked after before we are seen to.”

“Of course. How rude of me! Though in all fairness there is not an animal on Malweir that is large enough for my kind to ride,” Groge laughed good-naturedly.

He really is still a child, Maleela thought and smiled. She found it refreshing after months of torment and troubles. Groge was comparatively about the same age as she was. He was also far more naïve than she ever had the luxury of being. Those who had ridden on the wagon went inside while Bahr and the others followed Groge to a small shed on the far side of the house. Small was a relative term. The first thing Bahr noticed was how big the shed was. It was like stepping into a small barn.

“What do horses eat?” Groge asked.