The big Gaimosian shrugged his indifference. Ionascu was a spy and deserved whatever fate had arranged. Still, he managed a degree of sympathy. The man had both hands broken and his mind addled. The indignity of it disgusted Boen. Worse, Anienam had been unable to help. The bones were already knitting back together. His hands and feet were misshapen and ruined.
Boen leaned in closer to Bahr and lowered his voice. “He meant to sell us out. A traitor is a traitor, my friend. The afterlife will not be kind to him. As sad a tale as his life has become, we cannot afford to babysit him. Not if we are to make it.”
“Right now it doesn’t really matter,” Bahr countered. “We are still waiting for the others. I don’t think Harnin will be so willing to commit his forces in the dead of night, but if they don’t hurry back, it won’t much matter. Daylight isn’t far off.”
“The sands are running out,” Rekka agreed.
Her black hair was almost invisible in the night, giving her a ghostly appearance. Once, that offered a measure of comfort, familiarity. Her run-in with the Dae’shan changed that. Rekka came from a peaceful people. That is not to say they didn’t practice the martial arts. She plunged into her studies at an early age and earned the honor of being selected to the ranks of defenders at the ancient temple of Trennaron. There she learned of the eternal war between light and dark from the wizened Artiss Gran. The Dae’shan returned shortly after and Gran sent her north to Delranan. She was ordered to specifically find Bahr. The rest was up to fate.
Bahr looked up at the slowly lightening sky. “She’s right. Harnin won’t wait long.”
“It is your call,” Boen said.
He reluctantly nodded. “Rekka, take Ionascu and get the wagon out of here. Wait for us a league down the trail. You’ll find three lone trees beside an abandoned cottage. We’ll be along as soon as the wizard returns.”
“How long do I wait?”
Rekka already knew the answer. She’d been entrusted to protect Bahr, even at the cost of her own death. Nothing else was important. Bahr had to live long enough to gain access to the Blud Hamr. Artiss Gran never told her why, but then again, it wasn’t her business.
“As long as necessary,” he replied. “We shouldn’t be too long.” He paused to smile. “Even when old One Eye shows up.”
“There’s nothing like a good fight to start the day,” Boen added with a giant smile.
Ionascu whimpered. Violent images flashed each time he closed his eyes. His skin paled. Gone was the urge or will to fight. Rekka ignored him and snapped the reins. Instincts screamed for her to stay, to do her duty. She drove the wagon without looking back. Doing so would only break her heart.
“She’s a good girl, that one,” Boen said, watching them go. “She comes in handy in a fight.”
Bahr wholeheartedly agreed.
“Still, she’s rather harsh. I have to admit that I find her slightly intimidating,” the Gaimosian added.
Bahr arched his eyebrow, but kept his mouth shut. He still couldn’t tell when Boen was joking after all of their long years of knowing each other.
“You don’t suppose Ionascu will give her any trouble?”
Boen shrugged. “More likely the other way around. We are wasting time here.”
“It seems to be habit forming. Come on. Sundin Pond isn’t far off and I don’t trust Harnin to stay hesitant much longer.”
Bahr led the way, both men moving quickly and quietly through the underbrush. An old deer trail ran parallel to the small creek that emptied into the pond. The way was clear and soon they entered the clearing around Sundin Pond. Ragged breath came out in plumes of steam. Bahr spit, his lungs burning. Sweat covered their bodies. Boen scanned the perimeter and drew his massive broadsword.
Keeping in a low guard, the Gaimosian gave in to decades of instinct and experience. He investigated every shadow, every bush or bole. Caution was a master instructor. Gaimosians still had enemies across Malweir. The weak and sloppy died young. Boen was old, much older than he ever thought he’d be.
“Nothing,” he said after completing his sweep. “No sign of our friends either.”
“It might be nothing. They could have been delayed.”
Boen shot him a glare suggesting neither of them believed that. “They could also be dead. We have no way of knowing for sure and asking ‘what if’ is pointless.”
Bahr let out an exasperated sigh. “That was always the danger of splitting up. What choice did we have though?”
“Stop worrying about what you can’t control. There’s nothing for it.”
The Gaimosian’s words were short and to the point, typical of his fashion. His eyes never stopped roaming their surroundings. His muscles bunched, tensing for the inevitable fight.
“What do you suggest we do?” Bahr finally asked.
“We wait for as long is prudent and double back to Rekka.”
“And the hammer?”
Boen refused to budge. “We’ll find another way if it is that important.”
The Sea Wolf took issue with how easily Boen was ready to abandon the others, men he had called friends. Faces of crewmen from the Dragon’s Bane flashed back to him. They were all dead; killed or drowned during some anonymous voyage across Malweir’s vast oceans. Bahr remembered every last one. Some were good, others not so much. That didn’t matter. All had died under his command.
“Boen, I…”
“Shhh.”
Boen eased into a small patch of blueberry bushes. The faint echo of steel scraping against a branch consumed his attention. The battle with Harnin’s thugs was about to renew. Death grinned from his face. Bahr quickly followed suit, trusting in the big man’s instincts though he didn’t relish the thought of another battle so soon.
“Did you hear that?” came a whisper in the dark.
“Hear what?” came the reply.
Bahr wasn’t sure, but he thought he recognized the voices. Four slender figures stole into view, giving him the answers he needed. Dorl Theed and Nothol Coll came first, swords raised and ready for war. Argis and Maleela followed. He finally allowed himself to smile. He eased into the open before Boen could object. The sell swords dropped into attack stance, relaxing a split second later as they recognized the captain.
“What kept you?” Boen asked with a genuine smile.
Any sense of relief was crippled by the fact that not all had returned. The wizard was missing. This boded ill for the future. Bahr’s heart sank.
“We ran into unforeseen circumstances,” Argis told him.
Dorl rolled his eyes. He couldn’t understand how the man remained pompous after all they’d been through. “What he means to say is that we were attacked and lucky to escape alive.”
The words cut deep. They’d placed all of their hopes in the cranky little man. Losing him, and the boy, was going to hurt them.
“And the others?” Bahr asked, already knowing the answer.
Nothol Coll shook his head and stared at the ground. Maleela broke from behind him and gave her uncle a crushing hug.
“They are dead,” Dorl snapped. He passed by angrily. His pride was wounded, worse than the physical injuries Harnin’s goons inflicted. His body was a mass of bruises, his muscles ached. Instinct begged him to abandon this foolish quest while he still lived and head south to a more lucrative future. Delranan proved too much for his psyche to handle. The only thing keeping him tied to the expedition was the bond shared with his best friend.
“We don’t know that.”
Dorl flung his arms in a futile gesture. “What other conclusion is there? We barely made it out. They were in deeper. They had to have been killed.”
“Quiet!” hissed Boen. “We are not secure here. The enemy can have spies everywhere.”
Bahr stepped between them. “Boen’s right. We are being stalked. Harnin has burned my house and estate. His forces are cautious but dawn is near. Rekka is waiting down the road at the abandoned Horsch house.”
Nothol idly scratched his
jawline. “Do you think Harnin had the wagon followed?”
“I doubt it, but we can’t afford to wait and see. What happened at the temple?”
The sell sword explained as best as he could. Argis and Dorl interrupted as they saw fit. The tale was short, grim, and difficult to believe. Undead and a cave-in. Times had grown perilous in Delranan. Nothol finished, and felt as if a great weight had fallen from his chest. The burden was gone, yet the pain remained.
“Well,” Bahr drawled. “Anienam is a wizard. There is every possibility he might
have survived. We shouldn’t abandon them yet.”
“What more do you need, Bahr? They’re dead and we’re not far behind if we stay
here,” Dorl argued.
Anger flashed in the depths of Bahr’s blue eyes.
“Shut your mouth unless you actually have something to contribute,” Bahr lashed out. “I am tired of your bad attitude. Snap out of it and be the man I hired for this.”
Dorl tensed. His fist closed, drawing back slightly. Bahr closed the distance and placed a consoling hand on his friend’s shoulder.
“I need you on this one. Our hardest times are still ahead of us. This is going to be difficult. Ionascu found that out from the beginning. But the only way any of us are going to make it back is by pulling together. I need you, Dorl.”
Some of the fire smoldered away. He reluctantly nodded.
“That’s all very touching, but what do you need the rest of us for?” came a raspy voice from the shadows.
Everyone froze. They’d been discovered! A soft blue light pulsed from the night, illuminating a very haggard wizard and the street thief.
“Anienam!”
He gave a crooked smile. “Who else would it be? I hope you haven’t been waiting for someone else the whole time.”
“We thought you were dead,” Nothol Coll said and rushed out to squeeze the man.
“By all rights we should be. The cave-in made us take a longer way out. We very nearly did die.”
“There is more to be told than what we’re led to believe,” Boen commented from the perimeter.
He was right, but there was much more than a simple escape to discuss. Anienam anticipated the round of questioning. Arms folded across his chest, he patiently waited for the next question.
Bahr opened. “Did you get what you needed?”
“I believe so. The text is very old and I had little time to examine it before the cave-in. Still, it is what we need to point us in the right direction. Skuld here was the key to finding the book and seeing us to safety. He is a good lad.”
The Sea Wolf gave the boy an approving glance. “I thought the book was the key.”
Anienam shook his head. “The book is merely an opening. Consider it a compass of sorts. You see, the ancients had little trust for any of the races. They knew the potency of the hammer and were unwilling to let it fall into the enemy’s hands. Good planning to be sure, but difficult for those in need. The answers we seek should be locked in here.”
“Can you decipher it?”
The wizard smiled smugly. “I can’t see why not. I am trained in most of the major languages. It should be a matter of finding the data.”
“That’s great,” Boen said, “but we have to move. Now. Harnin is coming.”
They drew swords, even young Skuld. Only Anienam remained still. Swords were of no harm to a man of his power. He could crush his foes with a thought if he so chose. That strength remained his most potent secret. Anienam had seen the devastation of that ability unleashed before and he was loathe to unleash it again. Too many deaths added up in the name of wizardly excess. He resolved to let his companions choose for themselves. They must find their own light at the end of dark paths.
“Follow me, quickly and quietly.”
Bahr took them down the deer trail as the blue wizard light faded. When Harnin’s men arrived they found an empty clearing with no sign of their quarry.
EIGHT
Reunion
Dorl narrowly avoided a decapitating swipe by Rekka’s blade on the porch of the abandoned house at the end of the lane. Normally he would have had a good laugh at the absurdity of it, but his darkened mood prevented it. He tried to laugh, wanted to find any measure of humor. Like the rest of them, life had become a very dark thing for him.
Rekka Jel offered a quick apology and sheathed her blade. Dorl stopped until his heart dropped back to its normal place. Only Boen offered a chuckle as he strode past. Gaimosian humor was lost on them. The group ate in muted conversation, washing the small meal down with mugs of ale liberated from Bahr’s pantry. Boen finished off his ale and found a pallet in the back of house. He was soon stretched out and snoring. The gentle crackling of burning wood soon accompanied him.
“Isn’t he the lucky one,” Bahr commented.
Taking a bite from a green apple, he tried to stifle a yawn. Only now did he realize how tired he truly was. The rush of adrenaline siphoned off, forcing him to realize just how old he had become. His body ached. The pain of losing everything finally struck. His estate didn’t bother him as much as the loss of the Bane. That ship had been his life for decades. And now it was gone, reduced to cinders smoldering in the harbor. Emotions threatened to get the best of him. Rage. Pain. Anguish and sorrow. All collided in a deadly cocktail that promised to rip him apart.
“Are you all right, Captain?” Rekka asked upon seeing the distant look in his eyes.
He refocused, noticing Rekka staring nervously at him. Conversation slowed to halt as all heads turned in their direction. Bahr struggled against a surge of helplessness. What was he supposed to say? The very title of captain felt like a dagger thrust into his chest. He was a captain of a rickety wagon and a handful of outlaws. Life as he knew it, treasured it, was over. The only place he had left to turn was to Anienam Keiss and his damned blood hammer.
He feigned a smile. “Fine. Just thinking is all.”
“We have all lost a part of ourselves,” Rekka told him. “Our only chance for survival is to band together. We need each other now.”
Bahr fought to hold back a grimace. He alone had lost everything, not just some small token of memories. Easy for you to say. Bahr knew better than to voice his opinions here. Doing so would serve only to foment animosity among the group.
“Something you said bothers me, Anienam,” Nothol said.
Anienam smiled patiently as all eyes fell on him. The twinkle in his eye suggested he already guessed what was coming.
Nothol took the silence as consent to continue. “You said that the book was merely a key.”
“Of sorts,” he agreed.
Nothol sat down, his mind racing through patterns he failed to comprehend. “If that is the case, what you are proposing to send us on is another quest.”
The wizard exhaled a slow breath. All of his ideations were falling into place. All but one. Anienam still had no idea why the servants of the dark gods had chosen Delranan and Rogscroft to begin their return campaign. Strategically it made no sense. Both kingdoms were too far removed to be of any immediate impact. That lack of knowledge left an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“I am not all-knowing, master Coll. As much as you would have me wave my hand and produce this token of power, it is beyond me to do so. There are rules to this game, even for me.”
“Wonderful.” Dorl rolled his eyes. “So you’ve stood by and let us stumble along into this mess.”
“Life is about the power of choice,” Anienam countered. “What good is a man without free thought?”
Dorl wasn’t convinced. “I feel like a puppet, or worse.”
“What are you saying?” Bahr asked.
“This. All of this! Can’t you see what is happening? He’s engineered this entire affair to get us to do his bidding. The only place he is sending us is to the grave.”
“I don’t think…”
Dorl cut him off with a wave of the hand. “Quests are the sort of thing that most people i
n this room aren’t going to return from.”
“Nonsense,” Bahr argued. “We have all been sent on adventures. This is no different.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Maleela shook her head. It was all falling apart. “How can any of us be sure?”
Anienam Keiss said nothing. Patience and prudence were needed more than all else at this critical juncture. He sympathized with their suffering even though it was more perceived than true. They were all individually strong, but together they posed a threat that might even cause the Dae’shan to balk. Anienam sat back and waited for them to work through this for themselves.
“Too much of this doesn’t make sense,” Dorl said.
“That’s life, kid. I’ve spent almost six decades and almost none of them made much sense to me, the least of which was last night. There is plenty I don’t know, but I can tell you all this: what happened last night was no accident. Badron has declared his war. If following Anienam blindly in search of this hammer is going to help us win, then I am all for it.”
Dorl froze in mid-thought, his argument stalled. The breaking point beckoned him and he wasn’t so sure he had the willpower to stave it off.
“While we are busy asking each other pointless questions, I would like to know why do all of your stories revolve around these dark gods?” Bahr asked the wizard. “What happened to the good ones?”
“The answers you seek might not be found, I’m afraid,” Anienam replied.
Nothol looked up. “Why not?”
“No one is really sure what happened to them. There are many ideas, certain theories set forth by the finest theologians and scholars. Some contend the gods of light left once their foul kin were defeated and imprisoned in the nether. Others would argue that they lost interest in Malweir and drifted off into space in search of a new world in need of their presence. For myself, I cannot say. Some think the gods of light actually died, thus leaving a void in which the dark gods found their purchase back in this world.”
“That seems impossible,” Dorl said. “How can a god die?”
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