“How do you know my name?” he asked defensively.
“Bah, I know many things the light never finds. Come closer so that I may see you.”
He waited for Anienam’s encouragement before delving further into the cottage. Odd, exotic plants hung from the rafters. Flowers he’d never seen sprouted from rows of pots along the walls. Very little furniture filled the interior. A broken down chair by the fireplace. A small table under the largest window. Dirt covered the floor, leading Bahr to believe no one had bothered cleaning this place in a very long time, if ever.
Something dark brown scurried away to the far corner. Bahr ignored it and moved towards the sound of the voice. He didn’t know why but his heart beat a little faster. There was a strange power at work here. He felt the power rippling across his flesh. Electrifying his bones. Different from the wizard, this power came from the air. He felt the currents pass through his nostrils, into his lungs. Nausea quickly spread. His head began to ache, a dull throbbing echoing deep in his mind. Anienam placed a hand on his shoulder and he immediately felt warmth flow through him.
“Thank you,” he said without understanding. The magical effects began wearing off.
Anienam nodded and kept walking. They found the Old Mother in her bed, too old and fragile to get up. Wiry white hair hung down well past her shoulders. Wrinkles distorted her face. Bahr could just make out the thick hairs on her chin and upper lip. Her teeth were broken, crooked, and stained dark brown. Everything about her screamed she should have already passed to the next world. Everything but her eyes. Her eyes were strong, vivid. They watched Bahr and Anienam approach. The Old Mother calculated every minute fact, every nuance in their stride and stance.
“Ah, you bring the last scion of ruined Ipn Shal,” she mused. “I did not think you still drew breath, Anienam.”
The wizard stiffened. “Baethesida. You’re supposed to be dead.”
“You know this woman?” Bahr asked.
“Of course he does. Tell him, wizard. Tell him how your order abandoned my kind. Threw us out to the wolves to fend for ourselves. How dozens of us were captured or slaughtered for our unique abilities. Your self-destruction was the best thing to happen to Malweir.”
“You summoned us,” Anienam said, ignoring her barb.
She waved him off. “I summoned him. You came because you cannot help but interfere with the affairs of others. How like the rest of your dead kin.”
“Some would name you abomination, witch-seer,” he snapped. “Ever you and your sisters sought to control the wills of others. Haven’t you learned from meddling that life does not follow your desires?”
“Desires are all the flesh is comprised of. Who are you to condemn me for my gifts?”
Bahr stepped between them. “Time is short, Old Mother. You summoned me?”
Her eyes flicked to him. “Indeed. You embark upon an epic quest, thinking the answers are all known to you. You are wrong. Everything you think you know is a lie.”
“Speak plainly, woman. I told you we don’t have time.”
Anienam frowned. “Careful, Bahr. She is old but extremely powerful. It wouldn’t be wise to upset her more than necessary.”
“I don’t understand. She doesn’t look like much,” he replied.
“Your eyes deceive you, Sea Wolf,” Baethesida crooned. “Open your heart and the truth will be revealed.”
Bahr felt more frustrated. “I don’t do riddles, Old Mother. What is it you want?”
“Want? Nothing. What can an old woman such as I need from the likes of you?” she replied chastely. “I wish to give you information you will have need of before you reach Trennaron.”
“How do you know this, witch-seer?” Anienam demanded.
“I know many forbidden facts, wizard. You should not have come. My words are for Bahr alone.”
“Perhaps she is right. We’re getting nowhere like this. Wait outside, Anienam,” Bahr said.
The wizard bristled at the indignity, but held his tongue. Enough damage had been done to their little band and they couldn’t afford more angst. Reluctantly he nodded. “Do not trust what she says. The witch-seers are famous for the poison in their words.”
Bahr clasped Anienam’s forearm and waited for him to leave before turning back to the Old Mother.
“He will become a problem before the end,” she remarked casually.
Bahr frowned. “Why am I here?”
“This war is beyond your ability to win. Your brother is enslaved by the Dae’shan, a willing servant of the dark gods. Soon his power will rival the mightiest kingdom. His spies hound your movements, reporting every turn to their masters. You march across the world in search of a weapon unseen for thousands of years. What is it you hope to accomplish?”
For the first time he realized he had no answer. No personal objective other than mere survival. He’d been drawn into this affair without the opportunity to see any personal gain other than saving Maleela. By all means his task was complete and he should take his few possessions and find a quiet corner of the world to settle down in. Reality and desire seldom crossed paths though. He’d never be safe as long as Badron continued to rule. Others would hunt him to the ends of Malweir just to please their lord and collect the ample bounty.
So what did he hope to accomplish? His only true chance at freedom lay in turning around and stopping Badron, even if that meant killing him. Truthfully he had no desire to murder his only brother. Nor did he wish to ascend to the throne of Delranan. Leading their group south to find the Blud Hamr wasn’t his first choice. Meant for the open sea, Bahr needed the feel of sea spray on his face, the salt in the air. He felt stymied this deep in the countryside.
“Freedom,” he finally said.
The Old Mother nodded ever so slightly. “Ever elusive, what you seek. Many never come to know what it means to be free. The choice before you is plain. Continue on the path you have undertaken and it shall claim your life. The dark gods have powers no mortal can understand. Fight them if you must, but you will die. It is as inevitable as the rising sun.”
He’d never run from a fight in his long life. The very thought galled him. There was no honor to be found in cowardice, no glory or fame. His nature told him to stand up and confront threats as they come, not run and hide in the nearest hole. Even when confronted by impossible forces his base instinct was to fight. A man like Bahr thrived off of intense situations and needed the adrenaline rush to feel alive. His estates in Delranan were expansive, built with the best money could buy, but he’d never felt at home.
“I can’t give up just because a random old woman wants me to,” he said. “Death never held sway over me. Go frighten lesser men with your warnings and portents.”
Baethesida’s eyes widened. Decades had passed since one so foolish rebuked her. “You misunderstand me, Sea Wolf. If you continue your quest to find the Blud Hamr, you will know darkness the likes of which your pet wizard hasn’t dreamed. Pain and suffering will claim you.”
Frustrated, he turned to leave. “We’re done here. Good day, Old Mother.”
“Wait, Bahr. This has more to do than with your vanity. Maleela will suffer the longer your quest goes on. In the end she will fall to darkness.”
Bahr stiffened but said nothing and stormed off. The witch-seer watched him go, quietly debating whether to tell him the truth. Darkness rode the horizon, storming towards him, and he remained blinded. She smirked, knowing the path he had chosen would only lead to horror.
SIX
Seeds of Rebellion
Far to the north, in what had once been the kingdom and city of Rogscroft, King Badron of Delranan sat upon the burned throne of his vanquished foe. Stelskor’s corpse hung from the ceiling, minus the head. Badron personally impaled the severed head upon a spear and set it at the gates to the city for all to witness. Armed guards patrolled the area constantly lest one of the former citizens attempt to be noble and rescue their dead king’s dignity.
The throne room reek
ed of rotting flesh. Flies buzzed in thick clouds. Many of Badron’s advisors refused to enter, secretly citing the unnaturalness of it all. Their king had lost his mind, surrounded by corpses and puddles of dried blood. Half-chewed bones scattered the corners. Badron sat in amusement as the dogs devoured his dead enemies. Only the senior ranking Goblins felt comfortable in his presence. The dank, musky air and overpowering feeling of death made them feel at home. Badron cared less. His mind walked down paths very few had ever trodden. He looked forward to the whispered promises of the Dae’shan. Amar Kit’han spoke of the coming time when Badron would be crowned lord of the entire north. Master of the world from the west to the east. All he needed to do was kill his daughter and find true freedom.
Lost in one of his now frequent dark moods, Badron failed to notice Grugnak enter the throne room. The Goblin commander marched up to the broken throne, head held high. His black armor was dented and filthy. Hair plastered wildly about his face and neck. His normally dull grey skin seemed pale, gangrenous. The anger in his eyes reflected the hungry flames from the twin braziers flanking the throne.
“Two hundred more dead,” he growled in broken speech.
Badron didn’t bother looking up. His head rested on a fist, staring off into the distance at visions no one else could see.
Grugnak stepped closer, hand dangerously close to his sword. “Did you not hear? More dead. We must attack!”
“What difference does two hundred make?” Badron asked suddenly. “I have a combined force of close to twenty thousand combat soldiers. Two hundred is nothing.”
“Two hundred Goblins! When do Men begin dying?” Grugnak demanded.
“Why, since our creation. Do not think to lay claim to unprecedented violence. Man is more terrible than the foulest Goblin.”
Badron fell silent again, leaving the Goblin commander to stew. He had better things to occupy his time than a disgruntled puppet. For in the end that was all the Goblin force amounted to: puppets. He planned on sacrificing every single one of them before the end. After all, why waste good, able-bodied Men when you had another army willing to fight and die at no cost?
The crisp sound of steel being drawn from the scabbard echoed throughout the room. “Maybe I take my army back to the Dead Lands.”
“Maybe you should,” Badron countered. “Rogscroft has fallen. I don’t need you anymore.”
“Maybe we go to Delranan instead.”
More swords were drawn as Badron’s guards ringed the Goblin. Their gaze went from Grugnak to Badron, eager for the command to slay the foul creature. Badron did nothing. Grugnak snarled and spit.
“Coward.”
“Beware your words, Goblin. I had no qualm with sacrificing your troops to take this city and I’ll have none in spitting your head beside Stelskor’s.” Badron rose. His bulk more than a match for the shorter Goblin, he towered over Grugnak with unmistakable menace. “I have no patience for ignorance. Speak out of turn again and I’ll have every last one of your people put to death. Am I clear?”
Grugnak swallowed, fingers dancing over his sword hilt. Killing Badron wouldn’t prove difficult. Whatever he might be now was but a shadow of his former self. The king of Delranan might have fought many wars but they were long ago. He hadn’t swung a sword in combat in decades, giving Grugnak the advantage if he could only get close enough. Reluctantly he sheathed his sword. The time would come soon enough.
Badron nodded, as if the outcome had never been in doubt. “I knew you’d see reason, my friend. Now as to those two hundred of yours. Where were they lost?”
“In the mountain passes.”
So the Pell have finally thrown in. It took them long enough. “The Pell are ruthless, far more so than your kind. Digging them out will prove difficult. We must double our efforts. The snows continue to deepen. I want the Pell brought to heel quickly. We march on Delranan in the spring.”
“I need moresoldiers,” Grugnak said, ignoring most of what he’d been told. Badron’s dreams of conquest meant nothing to him. He had been sent by Amar Kit’han to assist in the conduct of Badron’s war and to help prepare the way for the return of the dark gods. Faithless, Grugnak cared little for gods and conquest. He merely wanted to fight, to feel the ripping sensation of his sword driving into flesh. Nothing else mattered.
Badron rubbed his tired eyes. “I shall inform General Rolnir to detach two battalions. That should provide sufficient strength to accomplish your task, Commander. Now, leave me.”
Visibly insulted, Grugnak turned and left without a word. Thoughts of murdering Badron entertained him as he made his way back to his army.
*****
“New orders just came down,” Rolnir announced to his gathered commanders. “None of you are going to like them.”
Piper Joach cut a slice from his green apple and popped it in his mouth. “I think I can speak for all of us when I say we haven’t liked a damned thing since entering Rogscroft.”
“Keep that noise to yourself, Piper. The king has ears everywhere,” Rolnir scolded, disappointed his commander didn’t know better. Or perhaps he just doesn’t care anymore. This war is taking a toll on us all. I only pray we have what it takes to make it out alive.
Rebuked, Piper dipped his head. “Yes sir. What are our orders?”
Taking a deep breath, the red-haired general almost couldn’t bring himself to speak. “The king has ordered two full battalions to assist the Goblins in driving the Pell Darga out of the mountains. They are to report to Grugnak at dawn.”
“He does hate us, doesn’t he,” Ulaf, master of engineers, said.
Rolnir couldn’t help but grin. “It appears that way, doesn’t it? Regardless of his likes or dislikes, he is our king and we are honor bound to obey. Herger, I need two of your best.”
The dour-faced Herger grimaced with displeasure. His thick beard hung just below the rim of his chest armor, as black as midnight. “Why my best, General? Chances are the damned Goblins will turn on them the moment they see the advantage.”
“Of course they will. Which is exactly why I need the best. Grugnak is about as trustworthy as a prostitute. I’m counting on the Goblins turning.”
Piper finished chewing and added, “Gives us an excuse to finally do what’s right, and get rid of a fair chunk of their combat force at the same time.”
While he couldn’t disagree, Rolnir realized they were getting off the topic. “Make no mistake, gentlemen, our troops are going up into the Murdes Mountains in the middle of winter to fight the Pell Darga on their own ground. I wouldn’t care to take them on under the best of conditions but the choice isn’t mine.”
Herger finally nodded, more excited at the prospect of killing Goblins than anything, and said, “Very well. I will go inform the commanders. How long do we expect them to be deployed?”
“Weeks at a minimum. Prepare for a month. We’ll resupply as necessary. I want swords sharpened and shields strong. This isn’t going to be easy.”
“They know their jobs,” he said and left the command building.
Piper ruefully rubbed his chin. “You’re asking a lot from his infantry.”
Rolnir fixed him with a baleful glare. “I’m not the one asking.”
They waited until the rest of the commanders left. A hollow silence filled the space between them. Best friends since joining the Wolfsreik, Rolnir and Piper struggled to find the right words, any words, to say. They felt stretched, spread too thin across an enemy kingdom and cut off from the much needed support from home. Every citizen they encountered was hostile, despite the false smiles and occasional waves. Over a hundred men had been lulled to their deaths by the conquered people.
Morale began to plunge the moment the Goblin army arrived and continued to drop the longer into the campaign they got. Soldiers fought for varied reasons: friends, the absence of friends, kingdom, or plunder. Not a one wanted to be away from home longer than necessary. They floundered in the occupation. Mistakes continued to rise. Men flooded the surge
ons’ tents with careless injuries. Drunkenness became a large problem as the winter lengthened. The brig was constantly filled as discipline broke down. Rolnir felt the famed Wolfsreik discipline slipping away and couldn’t find a way out. They’d never experienced a prolonged occupation and it was taking a heavy toll.
“What’s on your mind?” Piper asked. “I haven’t seen you this stoic since you relieved my vanguard a few months ago.”
Rolnir got up to pour a glass of water. “Want one?”
“No thank you.”
Finishing half of it in a single gulp, Rolnir sat back down and looked his friend dead in the eye. “I’m questioning the authority in all of this. It doesn’t feel right.”
“Yeah, there’s a lot of that going around.”
“I’m serious, Piper. The invasion was all well and fine, but nothing we’ve done since has served any purpose I can see. We are an army wasting itself away at the whims of a madman.” His voice trailed off to a low whisper.
Piper stared at him hard for a moment, unsure if he was being tested or not. More than one man had been arrested on charges of sedition against the crown. It wasn’t a stretch to think Rolnir had been ordered to ensure the loyalties of his command team.
“You… speak dangerous words,” he finally said.
“Do you deny them? How many Men have we lost to carelessness? How many to drunken altercations with the wrong people? How many have been killed or wounded because they wanted to mingle with the locals? I’m tired, Piper. This occupation should have ended the moment Badron cut Stelskor’s head off. We have no right to remain here.”
Piper decided to take the opposite stance, still unsure what was happening. “Or you could look at it as we have every right to be here. We conquered Rogscroft. They are defeated, broken and scattered to all four corners of their kingdom. This is what conquerors do, Rolnir. They occupy and pacify newly won territories in the name of throne and kingdom.”
“If I didn’t know better I’d say you were a spy,” the general mused.
Piper forced a grin. “I’m too ticklish. Never be able to hold sensitive information that way. What’s really digging into you? You’re making me worried now.”
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