“He’s right. Harnin is a monster. He’s lost all control and any sense of morality he once possessed. You’re wanted. I’m sure he has a special death in mind for you and your friends.” Ingrid shook her head, failing to understand what would possess a person as intelligent as Bahr to willingly stride into death’s grasp.
Bahr smiled weakly. “Death holds no promise for me. Lord Death will come at his own good choosing. Live or die, I need to ensure I’ve done all I can to help this quest succeed. I don’t expect you to….”
“To what? Understand? You old fool. I once thought you were the hope of our kingdom. Clearly I was mistaken. Whatever demons you’ve confronted on your quest, they have claimed the best parts of you and left a broken soul in your place. I understand more than you ever will. I was there during the plague. I was there during the Wolfsreik raids that killed scores of my friends. Where were you? Off pretending to save the world?” Ingrid was breathing so hard she found it difficult to speak. Her shoulders heaved from the exertion of her speech. That anger once gave her focus, but now left her feeling deflated. The sudden urge to break down and cry conflicted with her emotions. “I watched Chadra die even as I tried to salvage it. Bahr, whatever it is you think you need to prove, it is a lie. Focus on your quest. Perhaps then you will be able to deliver Delranan the salvation it needs.”
Rebuked, the Sea Wolf stiffened his back and rode forward. Too many times over the course of the quest he’d been forced to abandon his own good instincts in the name of the greater good. While he found it nonsense, knowing there were a great many things he might have done differently, Bahr decided the greater good was what was important. Personal desires meant little if the world was about to fall. Trying to convince Ingrid or Orlek of that would be a monumental waste of his time. Time he didn’t have.
“There is nothing you can say that will dissuade me, Ingrid. I need to see Chadra for myself. I’m not asking your permission or assistance. This is my personal quest. Anienam will keep the others in line and heading towards Arlevon Gale,” he said with a measure of defiance. “Don’t bother trying to change my mind. It’s made up. This is something I must do.”
“Bahr,” Ingrid called out as he was already riding away. “Don’t enter the city. You won’t like what you find.”
The ride to the capital city, rather, what remained of it, was relatively short. Bahr spent those few hours in silent thought, commiserating how far his life had spiraled out of control. The more he thought, the more he began to realize how dissatisfied he was. Dejection gradually transformed into raw anger. He’d been viewing the situation wrong from the beginning. There wasn’t room for sorrow, not with so much on the line. Bahr had been manipulated from the beginning, forced to perform tasks to another’s liking. That ended now.
The Sea Wolf took all of his pent-up aggression and knew exactly where to funnel it: Badron. None of this would be happening if not for his brother’s lust for power. Badron was the reason behind the ruination of Delranan. Behind Bahr’s loss of home and love. Behind Maleela’s disappearance. Behind the war. Behind everything. No other option remained but to remove his brother from this world. Only that would have to wait until after he dealt with the Dae’shan.
Vultures circled over the dying city in droves. Great flocks of the black-feathered carrion eaters hovered, making their roosts on abandoned rooftops, swooping in to tear strips of flesh from already desiccated corpses. Crows and lesser, smaller birds drifted in and out of the surrounding area. The city was quiet, reminding Bahr of a graveyard. Standing in a grove of trees to avoid being spotted by patrols, Bahr stared out on his birthplace. Tears welled in the corners of his eyes as long-forgotten memories rushed back.
He’d laughed here. Played and loved. Wasted his youth on dreams of fancy. Chadra was the one place he had felt comfortable enough to call home. The sadness of those memories tormented his already fragile ego. A time of reckoning was fast approaching. One in which he prayed he had the strength to outlast all else.
Sweeping his spy glass across the city, Bahr struggled to maintain composure. A large portion of the buildings had been burned to the ground. He spied stacks of bodies lining the main road like firewood for a cold winter’s night. Wild dogs roved the streets in packs, fighting over the bodies in order to survive. The inhumanity of it revolted him.
“What has happened here?”
Bahr’s question wasn’t an easy one to answer, nor did he expect one. Nothing as foul as the scene played out before him was capable of being defined by any singular explanation. Any thought he once entertained of entering the city in search of survivors or friends was dashed away. There was nothing left to the once grand city. To say that it was a skeleton of its former glory was being kind. Bahr tried but failed to find one redeeming quality of his home.
Eventually he shifted his focus to the massive, wooden fortress built atop the hill overlooking the city. Chadra Keep had stood for centuries, ever the watchful guardian of her people. Built by the first colonists of Delranan, the Keep was intended to house the entire population. Records said that nearly one hundred and fifty people had dwelled within the walls at one point. As time progressed, the inhabitants pushed out to build homes of their own. Soon the city of Chadra flourished under the Keep.
Bahr never understood how the wood didn’t rot. He’d meant to ask Anienam during one of those rare down times during the quest but something else always seemed to pop up and steal the thought away. From what he could see, the Keep was largely untouched. Small fire marks scored the lower walls by the gate. Arrows studded the walls but the exterior of the Keep appeared as strong as it had always been.
He lifted his gaze to the tops of the walls where normally at least a score of guards would be visible. Instead he found nothing. No smoke drifted up from the dozen chimneys sprouting across the roof. The windows were shuttered. Doors all closed. A handful of bodies dressed in Wolfsreik armor swung lazily from the makeshift gallows emplaced on the eastern point. Bahr grew confused.
“Could Harnin have abandoned the Keep along with the city?”
Again there was no answer. Bahr’s only option was to either try and sneak into the Keep or ride back to link up with Ingrid and Anienam. He didn’t relish either. The mystery of what had happened in Chadra Keep would have to wait, for his sole purpose now lay in stopping the Dae’shan from destroying the world. With heavy heart, Bahr closed his looking glass and turned back to his horse. He’d seen all he needed to. It was time to get back to the others.
He found them halted along a small stream several leagues east of their last position. Their spirits buoyed upon seeing Bahr again, so soon after his departure. Dorl secretly thought the Sea Wolf was gone forever and with good cause. No sane person would want to stick around to end of the quest. Only heartache and suffering awaited. The sell sword smiled and clasped Bahr’s forearm.
“Welcome back.”
“Dorl, did I miss anything?” Bahr asked. He carefully avoided any conversation that might lead to his discovery. Some pains were too near the surface to be exposed readily.
Dorl opened his mouth and shut it just as quickly. Whatever question he had on his tongue stayed there. “The wizard’s grumbling again. Something about a proper meal. Ingrid doesn’t seem inclined on stopping for the night, however. It appears dinner is going to have to wait until after this mess is ended.”
“We’re a day and a half away from the ruins,” Bahr said. “Far enough away to risk camp fires but close enough to begin worrying about scouts. Caution is prudent.”
“Clearly you’ve failed to be around the wizard on an empty stomach.”
“I’m old, not stupid,” Bahr said and laughed.
The casual banter lightened the dread in his heart. The silence of his long ride back left him eerily disturbed, enough to have him constantly looking over his shoulder as if enemy eyes were upon him. Clearly Delranan was no longer his home. It was a strange, violent kingdom in which life and death were mere whim blown on the
wind.
Dorl shrugged. “That remains to be seen. I think we all need to be a bit touched. What other explanation is there for sticking around this long?”
Bahr looked deep into Dorl’s eyes. He’d neglected the sell sword’s personal feelings this whole time, intent only on his own. Yet another oversight I must correct. “Dorl, I’ve been wrong to you. I know you want to leave and I don’t blame you. This quest, I fear, will claim all of our sanity before the end. Hard times demand hard people. There are no finer people I’d rather have with me at this hour.”
Dorl jerked back, a minute gesture but enough for Bahr to notice. Doubts sprang to life, prompting Bahr to wonder if his friend and loyal companion was already too far gone. “I…I don’t know what to say. The gods know I am ready to hang up my sword and abandon this life. All we’ve done shows me that death is the only way out. How can we possibly succeed when so much hatred is allied against us?”
“It’s been my experience that all are mired with petty hatreds. Overcoming them will be difficult and, as we’ve theorized, some of us might die, but we owe it to the rest of the world to stand up and fight for our beliefs. I can go to war but I can’t win without your support. You and Nothol have been my two most valuable assets since I hired you in Stouds.” Bahr shifted his weight to his opposite foot. Too many long hours in the saddle left his back sore and his legs restless. “Do you still have my back?”
Dorl didn’t want to respond. He wanted to take Rekka and flee south. Avoid the terrible fate the gods had decreed for them. But as much as it soothed his fragile conscience to want to leave, Dorl knew he couldn’t. Too much of his life was invested in those around him. He glanced over at Nothol, who pretended not to be eavesdropping. Rekka stood quietly beside the wizard, both staring in the opposite direction. Only Skuld dared look him in the eye, at least until the young thief noticed Dorl staring back and quickly dropped his gaze.
These are my friends. As much as I’d like to claim otherwise, I know I can’t abandon them now. All of our hardships and pain will have meant nothing if I choose to leave. Dorl scoffed at his cowardice. What sort of hero left his friends in the middle of the night during their darkest hour? He refused to be that person. Integrity still held meaning for the sell sword. Even if it was going to get him killed.
His mouth twisted in a funny way, as if the words refused to come out. “Fine. I’m in. I signed on to this fool quest in the beginning and I’ll be damned if I leave all of you now. Let’s just hope the big Gaimosian returns. I don’t relish the thought of tackling the dark gods without him.”
“Nor do I,” Bahr admitted, “but Anienam is quite certain he’ll return in time.”
“He’d better hurry up. Time is almost up.”
Bahr nodded. Having said enough, he faked a smile. “I don’t suppose there’s any food ready? I’m famished.”
Dorl’s laughter was loud enough to get the others to look their way. “If there is I’m sure Anienam will have eaten it already.”
“Best we hurry,” Bahr slapped him playfully on the back and headed towards the camp center. All eyes were on the duo, most with that knowing look of satisfaction. Bahr felt better inside knowing that some questions could be answered after all.
FOURTEEN
Luck of the Draw
The fury of the Wolfsreik was unleashed for the first time upon Delranan soil mere hours after Piper Joach was given his new command. Warriors who’d been bottled up in the Murdes Mountains after weeks of inactivity attacked with ruthless abandon. The defenders were caught off guard and struggled to form ranks and recall their training. Piper knew it wasn’t going to be enough. He had numbers and the element of surprise. All it took was scaling the wall and opening the gates.
Streaks of flame sped out from the fortress, trailing black, acrid smoke. Piper failed to understand the waste of ammunition. Surely whoever commanded inside recognized the need to retain as many shafts as possible for when the army broke through? He almost ordered a secondary assault, altering his plans to counter the fortress commander’s sudden move. It was light enough that darkness wasn’t a factor. Mind so wrapped around details and counter plans, Piper failed to notice the small moat ringing the fortress.
The first arrows struck the pitch filling the moat and exploded. Men screamed as they burned to death in their armor shells. Others, cut off by the wall of flame stretching high into the sky, could only push towards the walls to be cut down by crossbowmen hidden behind the palisade. Piper Joach’s carefully worked plan was about to be undone by the combination of guile and inexperience.
His initial instinct was to fall back and regroup, but doing so would leave those soldiers cut off to their deaths. Wasted lives in a war that should have been avoided. Piper couldn’t allow that to happen. “Push forward! Attack all sides at once.”
Sergeants and junior officers gaped at his orders. They fully expected to die in the assault, but the Wolfsreik discipline was unmatched across the face of the world. Slowly they began moving. Some of Piper’s tension left, replaced by the casual demeanor of a seasoned combat leader. He’d been a fool for not expecting tricks. Static defenses relied on misdirection and chicanery in order to survive. Most times they didn’t work, leaving the garrison exposed to the predations of the attackers. Piper would be damned if he let a handful of reservists expose his momentary weakness.
“Commander, the flames!”
“Damn the flames! We must get under their fire and over the walls. Now!”
Piper shoved the startled sergeant forward. Hundreds of infantry massed just beyond arrow range, hesitant for the first time since encountering the Goblins. The task force commander frowned, knowing further exposure would limit his ability to succeed. Ignoring the incoming fire, Piper stormed over to his shocked troops. Heavy infantry had its uses but storming a fortress wasn’t one of them.
“On your feet, lads! This is what you get paid for. Strike for the walls and don’t stop until the enemy surrenders,” he ordered. His voice strained into a bellow.
Soldiers reluctantly hefted shields and began to move forward towards the wall of flames. Bravery and foolishness collided, as was its wont. Piper hoped it was enough. The other option was full-fledged retreat. He needed to give his assault force as much aid as possible to keep casualties down.
“Archers! I want your quivers emptied. Keep their heads down and don’t stop firing until our lads are on the ropes!”
Longbows groaned as they were loaded and drawn. The first volley soared back towards the fortress, followed by ragged strings of successive shots. Order devolved into chaos as the battle intensified. Piper strapped his helmet on and joined his infantry in their charge. Smoke choked him. Coughing and sputtering, Piper forced his way through the advancing ranks to take his rightful place at the head of the column.
The smoke forced him to squint. Patches of tar and residue clung to his face and uniform. The heat from the flames nearly pushed him back. His nerves threatened to break. Piper Joach dug deeply, forcing aside his weakness and personal fears in order to inspire his soldiers. Or so he hoped. The thought of roasting alive shook him to the core. No one would label him a coward if he chose to retreat. But such lack of values wasn’t in his character. He tucked his arms into his body, dipped his head, and closed his eyes the moment before running through the flames.
Intense heat seared his body. Steam rose from his plate armor, threatening to boil him like a coastal crab. What felt like a lifetime lasted but a few seconds. The smell of cooked hair and charred flesh sickened him, though he’d been around such too many times in the past. Piper kept charging, lifting his head as he closed the final few meters to the base of the wall. His enemy had established a poorly designed kill zone for their crossbows. Only a handful of Piper’s disoriented soldiers fell under the deadly shafts before reaching the walls.
“Ropes!” Piper shouted above the roar of the fires.
Soldiers darted forward to throw their blackened grappling hooks over the top
of the nine-foot walls. A fully armored Wolfsreik assault soldier was capable of scaling the distance in a matter of seconds, providing he remained in top physical shape. Piper counted on the harshness of winter and their trek across the mountains to fuel his assault. A dozen ropes went up. The first crashed back down before the soldier managed to grab hold. Soldiers scrambled up the others, barred steel in mouths. Short daggers were best for close fighting. Each soldier in the assault was specially trained for breaching defensive structures, having trained for months on designs exactly like the one they assaulted. Piper considered it payment for the lives he had lost in the initial attack.
One of infantry toppled over the wall. Blood ran in sheets down his armor. He was dead before hitting the ground. More soldiers climbed. The sounds of pitched battle atop the wall soon contended with the flames for dominance. Piper took his place in line and climbed. Muscles ached. He was more exhausted than he thought but couldn’t stop. There’d be time enough for rest once the battle was won. His initial doubts of winning or losing were swept aside the moment he pulled his body over the wall.
His infantry was already surging towards the front gates, killing all in their path. Soldiers continued to swarm over the walls on all four sides of the beleaguered fortress. Bodies littered the area, reminding him of a slaughterhouse he’d visited as a child. This was war at its grimiest. Defenders fought with claws and teeth to stave off their imminent deaths. Desperation took hold on those few defenders still capable of acting. Many launched what amounted to a suicide charge into the armored ranks of the Wolfsreik heavy infantry. They died horribly, but at least with a small measure of honor.
Others were herded together and placed on their knees with hands over their heads. Abject failure lingered in their hollow eyes. Piper had seen it already and still failed to understand what could drive anyone to perform such against their own kinsmen. The Wolfsreik commander didn’t have time to stay locked in deep thought, however. A pair of defenders charged him. Only one bore a sword. The other relied on fanaticism and paid for his arrogance.
Even Gods Must Fall Page 13