Song of the Fell Hammer

by Shawn C. Speakman

  He cried, forgetting how to breathe.

  He was the last of his family; he was no longer himself but someone changed.

  As the tears fell and the pain in his chest threatened to crush his soul, he heard nothing but his own heartbeat, a sound beating out the knowledge he was now alone in the world.

  Chapter 37

  Wearing heavy woolen clothing supplied by Evelina, Sorin and Arianna left the warm confines of the cottage and stepped into the brisk morning. The air was crisp, and Sorin’s breath steamed out in front of him in lazy clouds. In the areas where the sunshine had failed to fall, a thin layer of frost coated the brittle grass and the smaller trees, giving the land a chilly aspect. The woodlands were still draped in fall colors, but the red maple to their right had lost more of its coat overnight and was becoming barer with each spiraling leaf to drop from its branches. Soon the rest of the trees would follow the maple’s suit and skeletons would stand amidst the evergreen fir and hemlock.

  Evelina stepped out behind Sorin, wearing a thick hooded cloak for protection against the cold. She had been hospitable to the two companions, making a hot breakfast of oatmeal, sugar, and hard cheese while finding them warmer clothing. Sorin had slept undisturbed, the padded blankets beneath him infinitely more comfortable than the rock of Keslich ’Ur’s dungeons, until the smells emanating from the small kitchen had awoken his stomach. With packs holding a menagerie of supplies and foodstuffs, Sorin and Arianna were prepared to pursue the Hammer and regain it for Godwyn Keep before the unthinkable could happen.

  Ganite stepped from behind the shadows of the cottage to sit near the maple, impervious to the freezing morning. It ignored them as it gazed out over the valley.

  “Remember,” Evelina said, her cloak drawn about her. “The winter is closing in on us all in the Reach. Soon snow will fall and travel will become hazardous and difficult. The sooner you complete your journey, the better. It has been a long time since I have traveled into the hills and peaks of Clennick Mountains, but you don’t want to be caught in their clutches once the first snows start to fall.”

  Sorin nodded, adjusting the pack on his back. “You are sure you will not come with us?”

  “I cannot go,” the old woman said. “Knowing that, Ganite will also be of no help to you either. He is linked to me, for reasons I am still not fully aware of, and he cannot stray from me farther than that link allows. I have tested it. Apparently, I have lived beyond my use, a crumbling woman with faith as her old fruit. Perhaps my part in this has already passed.”

  “Without you and Ganite, Arianna and I would be dead—or worse. You have done enough already.”

  “While you slept, I prayed for your safety and later dreamed of a black stallion as wild as the land and as lost as an orphaned foal. I believe dreams are the All Father’s way of distributing knowledge without the contradictions life brings to our pursuit of truth. I can, however, tell you this: Artiq is more important than you realize. The key to your survival and that of the land revolves around Aerom’s horse. I am certain of it.”

  “Why are you sure of it, Evelina?” Arianna asked with an interest in her eyes Sorin had not seen before.

  “I don’t know how, child, but I know it to be so nonetheless,” Evelina replied. “I have spent more than a normal lifetime teaching, reading, and studying the words of the All Father. His word is filled with great wisdom, but it is often what lies behind the message that can be the most important aspect of the Codex.” She paused, the cold chafing her cheeks red. “Sorin, you have had better care and learning than what Godwyn Keep could have given you. You are not polluted as some become. I see the strength of the All Father in your eyes. But Artiq is also mentioned in the Codex, and it is apparent you both will play roles in the final events to come.”

  “I feel a part of Artiq in a way I have never felt with anyone or anything ever. It’s as though he and I have known one another all our lives. It defies explanation.”

  “Miracles defy logic, Sorin. That’s why they are called so.”

  Sorin had had a similar thought in Lockwood. And to him, Evelina was a miracle. She had removed herself from the service of Godwyn Keep in order to answer the call of a higher purpose she solely believed in, illogical though it had been. It was not written in the stars; the Codex had not dictated it to her. The faith she possessed came from within her. Sorin began this quest as a choice, but he did not know if its roots were based in faith. He had spent his life going to church, upholding the ideals taught him by his pastor and his parents, but he had never truly come to terms with them himself and learned their lessons alone. When his parents were killed, he wondered how the All Father could allow such a thing to happen. The innocence of his childhood had been destroyed, leading to Sorin questioning his role in the world he lived in. Now he had more answers, but enough questions remained to shadow the truth of Artiq.

  “Last night, you said you’ve come to your own belief about how the events of the world come into being. What do you believe?” Sorin asked her.

  She smiled kindly at him. “I believe providence guides our hearts, my son. The great design people argue about—does the All Father control our every movement or do our choices alone shape the future—these are matters of philosophy and speculation at best. The All Father exists, his power can be felt, but there have been those over the centuries who believe him to be incapable of laying his hand directly on the world—for his perfection to be sullied by our imperfection would ruin him and the world.

  “I am one of them. I choose to believe an entity that powerful can set into motion events for the greater good through the faith residing within each of our hearts. In that way, the All Father does not break the boundaries of the world and we also shape the future by our actions. What do I believe? I believe in both happening at the same time, a design within a design.”

  Evelina moved forward and bowed. “I believe you capable of great and wondrous things. Soon, maybe you will too.”

  Before he knew what he was doing, Sorin stepped forward and kissed Evelina’s cheek. “I didn’t come here to fail.”

  The old woman smiled warmly, and life danced in her eyes. “In this, as with many things, there are infinite possibilities in the paths we may tread. There is no absolute means to an end. Remember that, Sorin.”

  Evelina moved forward to embrace Arianna and then stepped back to look. “Beware of the skies and the mountains. Artiq brought you far, but Keslich ’Ur has a mighty reach, even this far from the main castle. For years Ganite has kept me safe, but soon that protection will be taken from you. The Woman King will not have forgotten you that easily, and shrikes can travel far. As for the mountains, there are said to be large, shaggy beasts in their environs and other creatures best left alone. Be wary.”

  “Thank you,” Sorin said simply.

  Evelina nodded to them both. “Fare thee well. You both will be in my prayers.”

  Sorin moved from the house, the faint crunch of fresh frost beneath his boots. His new clothes wrapped him in warmth, but the crisp air stung his nostrils and cheeks. Ganite rose from where it sat to walk alongside Sorin, the hulking creature silent. Arianna followed a step behind.

  When Sorin came to the edge of the woman’s gardens and turned around to look at the former Pontiff one last time, Evelina had disappeared.

  Ganite took the lead then, moving fluidly forward like a large wolf. Sorin wondered how intelligent the grotesque was and where its sentience had come from. Ganite had been created by the Feyr to ward Godwyn Keep. What did the Feyr know of producing a stone creature like Ganite and giving it free will? Where did their power come from? The people of the Kingdom had always distrusted the fey nation—their faith not quite Godwyn, not quite pagan—and that mistrust had been the initial catalyst for the War of the Kingdoms. The Feyr, it seemed, were a people lost to the winds and uncertain of their place in the world. Ganite was the epitome of the Feyr’ placement in both worlds; he was a creature of neither. Perhaps the grotesque g
ained its authority and intelligence from its owner, in this case from Evelina. Pondering this, Sorin breathed in the chilly air and followed the marble entity into the southern forest and toward the jagged mountaintops in the distance.

  The morning wore on and the sunlight strengthened enough to banish most of the chill from the world. Sorin and Arianna climbed the rugged landscape of the southern Reach, Sorin’s legs burning with the exertion. The world had become a series of valleys and peaks with no easy way to navigate them, and his long exposure to the dungeons of Keslich ’Ur and his flight from the wolves had exhausted him in ways he was only now discovering. Arianna was tireless next to him, her breathing even and her eyes forward, and Sorin fought to keep pace with her. The land about them changed as well; the higher they traveled the more autumn had stolen from the summer’s scenery, and damp, moldering leaves silenced their striding steps.

  Before midmorning had come, Ganite suddenly stopped as though halted by an invisible, massive hand. The grotesque looked back at them. They had come to the crest of a tall hill and a long valley disappeared into the distance before new heights and tall mountains came to claim it for their own. More fir trees survived here, their winter coats still dark green. Steel-grey cloud cover had moved into the Reach, suffocating the sunshine, and mists spun from the peaks of the Clennick Mountains in the distance to reach their icy clutches to the lands below. They were still days away from the Rune even if they kept up a strong pace. And now their guide was unable to help them. The companions moved ahead of Ganite and stared at him.

  “Well, I guess this is as far as it can go,” Sorin said.

  Arianna stood fixed, staring at the stone monstrosity. Ganite seemed to look back at her as well, and its fingers gripped the brown turf like a cat kneading a blanket. It made no sound.

  “Are you all right, Arianna?” Sorin asked, about to step closer to the young woman.

  She turned, the spell she had been under broken. “I’m fine. And Ganite is a he.”

  Sorin adjusted the bedroll on his back, the fire in his legs from the climb dissipating. “What do you mean?”

  “Ganite isn’t an it as you keep saying, but a he. I don’t know how I know, but it’s true.”

  She then stepped close to the grotesque and reached up to touch its face with a gentle hand. Ganite lowered its head as if aware of the woman.

  “Goodbye,” she whispered.

  She turned away, and they left Ganite, walking down the hill through a copse of white birch, being careful not to slip on the soft, unsettled soil. Sorin glanced back. Ganite had lowered himself down on his haunches and watched the two vanish from view. Soon Arianna and Sorin were once again alone.

  A brightening within the thick layer of clouds signaled the coming of afternoon. While walking through the valley and keeping away from its marshy middle, Sorin turned to Arianna. “You seemed very interested in Artiq when Evelina brought him up before we left. Is there any particular reason why?”

  Arianna did not turn but kept her eyes on the forest around them. “She is a wise woman, and listening to her advice is about all we have left.” Her eyes flicked to Sorin before she continued. “I guess I want to make sure we get as many answers as possible, that’s all.”

  There was more she was hiding. Sorin wondered anew why Nialls had sent her. Sorin still did not know her or what her role as the High King’s Shadow entailed, but he sensed a sinister aspect to her life—one a part of her rebelled against even as she carried it through. Although he wondered at her role, he knew she was not there to betray him or lead him astray. She was his friend in this wilderness, and he had to give her credit for coming after him and keeping him safe. Even after freeing him, she had risked her life when the wolves attacked, stepping forward with her sword drawn in the heat of the moment. Her answers were plausible but they lacked a conviction Sorin needed to hear.

  “When the wolves attacked and before Ganite appeared,” Sorin started, attempting a different route. “What did you throw at the wolf? It was some kind of vial that swallowed that beast in flame.”

  She smiled ruefully. “Ahh, that. It’s a concoction of flammable liquids. If thrown hard enough, it combusts on impact. Just a little something I picked up along the way. Animals hate it, of course.”

  “You learned that in service to the High King?” Sorin asked a little too assertively.

  She pulled up short, turning to face him. “Is this an inquisition of some kind?”

  Sorin stopped as well and shrugged. “I know nothing about you, and yet here you are aiding me. I’m just trying to make sense of it all.” He paused. “Then there’s what happened back there with Ganite. Do you know something about him you aren’t telling me? It almost seemed like you were speaking with him or something.”

  “I wasn’t talking to him.” She laughed, and then became serious abruptly. “He is very special and few alive have seen him. I guess you could say I was absorbed by his wonder.” She fell silent as she trudged forward again.

  Sorin also grew quiet and focused on the task at hand. They pressed on. He had found an endurance he had previously thought was lost, a second wind that pushed him forward. They had only taken a short break during midday, but as the afternoon wore on, his endurance waned with it, a constant depletion of energy. As they climbed, however, it was easier to travel across country as most of the leaves had fallen from the trees and brush, giving them free passage. The gloom thickened as the evening began, and the woodlands became more still. Only the sound of the wind and the rustle of the trees surrounded them. Every step brought them closer to their goal; every step brought them closer to winter’s touch.

  When the light began to fail and the deepening gloom brought with it cold, Sorin suggested they stop for the night. A jagged outcropping of rock at the bottom of a hill gave relief from the elements and a meadow formed a half circle around the rock before evolving once more into the barren forest. Sorin removed his pack, feeling an ache penetrating his shoulders and upper back. He could still see the rolling hills and valleys of the Reach behind them.

  “We’d better build a fire,” he said. “It’s going to get cold.”

  “I’ll gather tinder and scavenge the forest for wood,” Arianna said, also dropping her pack and roll. “Those clouds look a lot like snow to me.”

  Sorin tasted the air. She was right. He could also feel it in his bones. If winter came early—even for Blackrhein Reach—they were going to have a difficult time of it.

  After they had set up a meager campsite, Arianna built a small fire with the fuel she had found to last them most of the night. The outcropping of rock shielded the light from the sky, and darkness settled in around them, a wall of impenetrable blackness held at bay by the flames. They ate a quick, cold meal, huddled next to the heat, and did not speak.

  Arianna watched Sorin from across the fire. “You can trust me, Sorin,” she said quietly.

  “I know,” he said simply and meant it.

  She curled up next to the fire within her bedroll and closed her eyes. Sorin found a warmth spreading from the fire into his tired muscles, and soon he laid down as well, the effects of his long day’s exertions catching up to him. He closed his eyes.

  Sleep stole over his consciousness like a thief, taking Sorin to his dreams.

  * * * * *

  Sorin was aware of a deadened wrongness on the air.

  It was not a smell or a sound that brought him alert. It was not anything as overt as what the human senses could discern. He opened his eyes and strained his ears; nothing seemed out of place. The flickering orange and yellow light of the fire still burned, and he was safe within his bedroll. It was still night. Above him, the shaft of rock loomed.

  He was about to close his eyes and fall back asleep, pushing the instinctual worry he felt away, when it came to him.

  It was not an obvious threat or change to the night; it was the lack of sensation Sorin felt. He did not feel the cold of the mountains or the heat of the flames on half of h
is body or the wool bedding about him. He did not hear the snap of the fire’s embers or the breeze in the trees and about the hill. It was as if the entire world had become dead to him, as though his skin had lost all capacity to feel and his ears all ability to hear. Fear lanced through him like a lightening strike, and he shot up from his bed to look around.

  Their campsite was the same, but Arianna was gone.

  In her place across the fire sat a man with skin so pale it was almost translucent. He wore a cloak loosely on his shoulders, but the cowl was lowered to reveal raven-black hair and defined cheekbones that curved smoothly beneath eyes as black as obsidian. They were dead eyes, devoid of good intention, and when Sorin stared back, an itch in the depths of his soul responded to the man. At his visitor’s right hip, an object bulged through his cloak, a weapon of some kind. Despite Sorin’s unsettling discovery, he fought to maintain his composure.

  Sorin had seen the man before. It was the Woman King’s warlock from Keslich ’Ur.

  “Who are you, and what have you done with Arianna?” Sorin asked, amazed his voice carried any weight on the dead air. The voice did not echo in the clearing, and no other sound filled the night.

  “You know who I am, brother,” the man said, cursing the last word even as his Reach accent had vanished from his lips.

  Revulsion and shock swept through Sorin. He did know him. Although the man sitting across from Sorin had entered the throne room of Keslich ’Ur and the Woman King had pronounced him as one of her own, Sorin now saw that had never been the case. This man had weaseled his way into the confidence of Cwen Errich and used her to gain what he wanted. He was a man willing to make any sacrifice to see his will imposed on the many; he was the man Sorin had been hunting ever since leaving Aris Shae.

  “Kieren,” he whispered.

  A cruel smile spread over the other man’s pale countenance. “Indeed.”

  Sorin sat up straighter. “How did you find us?”

  “Lighting a beacon was useful,” Kieren said. A smile devoid of humor revealed white teeth. “But it was my friend who found you.”