“Go on,” Boen shooed him off.
“The boy has potential,” Bahr commented once Skuld was out of earshot.
Boen shook his head ruefully. “He should not be here. This quest goes beyond the limits of his strengths.”
“The same could be said for all of us. I’m not looking forward to crossing these mountains in winter.”
Boen glanced at the sky. The grey was oddly soothing, reminding him of the trials in his life. He breathed deeply. Moisture dampened the air. “The snows are not far off. Our biggest concern is the wagon. I do not think it will hold up if we run into a bad storm.”
“Hopefully the passes will stay open long enough for us to find this forge and get back.”
“Assuming the Giants have the hammer. This might be the beginning of a long journey.”
The Sea Wolf frowned. The first few snowflakes splashed on his dark green riding cloak and dissolved. Another winter, he thought. Bahr hated winter.
“How did we get entangled in this?” Boen surprised his friend. “Gods and Giants. I never would have believed such things a season ago. There has got to be an easier life than this, Bahr.”
“I am sure there is but you and I both know that neither of us would know what to do with it. Like it or not, this is our life. It is all we are.” He forced a shiver. “Dorl and Nothol should be back soon.”
Boen snorted, his breath shooting a plume of mist into the air. “With the enemy close behind no doubt.”
“Ha! Like you would have it any other way.” He clapped Boen’s shoulder playfully.
They walked back to the wagon to snatch a quick meal of dried venison and dark bread. Bahr dug into a sack and produced a quarter wheel of yellow cheese and cut two large chunks, one for each of them.
“This cheese is horrible,” Boen grimaced between mouthfuls.
“No one said you had to eat it.”
“I will take it if you do not want it,” Anienam offered cheerfully. He rounded the wagon with a smile almost as large as his stomach.
Boen stayed him with a hand. “Hold yourself, wizard. I’m a bigger man with a bigger appetite, despite the quality of the food.”
Anienam waved him off. “Oh bother. Eat your own food, Gaimosian. Just remember to slide any uneaten tidbits my way.”
They laughed. Humor was the one thing men needed on a campaign if they expected to maintain some measure of sanity. Dark hours lessened with the wonders of humor, even if most people did not quite understand the quirks in it. Only Ionascu remained silent. His narrow eyes never stopped watching them with a growing cloud of disdain. These were not his people. He desired to be back in Chadra, enjoying the spoils of his efforts.
Boen pulled the stopper from a flagon of ale they’d confiscated in Praeg and drank deeply. “Tell us, wizard, what is so damned important about this hammer? How can we be sure it even exists? It has been my experience that such tokens are naught but legend and myth.”
Anienam took the offered ale to wash down the last of his bread. “The Blud Hamr exists, I assure you. It is the one thing capable of destroying the curse of the dark gods. Or so I recall reading.”
“Is this from that book you risked your life for in Chadra?” Maleela asked. She drew her knees up and wrapped her lithe arms around them.
“That and the royal libraries down in Averon.”
Rekka Jel busied herself by sharpening her sword. She occasionally looked up when a certain word or phrase caught her interest. Rekka was a pragmatic woman. Her people did not bother with what if or why. They focused on the now and the events they could control. Life was too precious to be spent worrying about potential futures. The jungles of Brodein were harsh, unpredictable. Death was just as easy to find as life.
“I have a hard time with placing my life in the hands of some mythical weapon,” Boen stated aggressively.
“Phaelor is real enough. That is the sword young Fennic used to kill the Silver Mage in Gren. Sometimes all we need is faith, Boen.”
“Easy for you to say. I have never seen this sword, or the head of the hammer. I need more to go on than whims and dreams. When was the last time anyone saw it?”
Anienam paused, if but slightly. “Phaelor was last used by the Elves close to one hundred years ago.”
“And the hammer?” Boen was growing impatient. The old man was stalling.
“The hammer has not been seen since the time the book was written.”
Bahr did not like the sound of that. “Which was when?”
“Longer than any of us can recall. My guess would be hundreds of years at minimum. The Mage War has been over for a long time.”
The ensuing silence was almost frightening. Their quest suddenly become a lot less clear. Uncertainty and doubt gnawed at their reasoning. Hundreds of years. Not even the fabled long lives of the Elves were enough to remember those days.
Bahr attempted to wipe the stress from his face. He supposed they were fortunate the sell swords weren’t back yet. Dorl would have exploded. They still will, he surmised. Things had gone from bad to worse.
Anienam felt the balance shifting away. “We have no reason to believe that it does not exist or that it is not being well cared for.”
“In Venheim?” Maleela asked.
“Possibly, but who can say for sure? The Giants keep their secrets closely guarded. I still have much to read. The authors do not jump to conclusions. Keep hope in your hearts,” he told them with as much confidence he could muster.
“We’re doomed,” Ionascu chuckled eerily from his perch.
FIFTEEN
A Rebellion Born
“How? That is all I want to know. How can one old man and a cripple escape from this dungeon so easily?” Harnin fumed at his captains.
Silence was the reply. Technically Harnin had no authority over the others. They were all captains of Delranan, but since Harnin had fallen under the subversive influence of the Dae’shan, he had risen above them and secured power. He had become a far greater tyrant than Badron ever dreamed of. Harnin wanted power, raw and unadulterated. A thousand deaths were not enough to sate his thirst. He was a man in need of death.
“We believe they had assistance from inside the keep,” Jarrik answered. He had been one of Badron’s staunchest supporters and was easily converted by Harnin.
Harnin’s gaze hardened. “Thank you for stating the obvious. I want the guard purged. Find out who the traitor is and have him executed.”
“There is little doubt who it is, Harnin.”
“Who?”
Jarrik cleared his throat. “There is but one of us who is not here. Lord Argis must be the traitor. How else can he explain his rash of absences?”
The weight was removed and had served a dual purpose. Jarrik was glad to finally get Argis’s name in the open. He also saw a sliver of space for advancement and the possible replacement of Harnin. Jarrik quietly plotted, patiently awaiting the day when Delranan would be his.
“Badron should have taken him on campaign. He would be more fortunate to find a Rogscroft arrow in his heart than with what I have in mind,” Harnin cursed. “Ulfdane, step forward. I have a task for you.”
A young blond man slipped between the others. He had the sharp look of a wolf on the hunt. Huge muscles bunched beneath his leather jerkin. His arms were thickly corded and veined. He was every bit the symbolic champion Harnin needed.
“My lord,” his deep voice rumbled.
“Find me Argis. I want his head.”
Jarrik spoke up. “Why should he remain here in Chadra? Argis has to know that we will have guessed his involvement by now. He surely would have left with Bahr.”
“No. He is still here. There is more for him than the blind devotion to the king’s daughter. Argis is in Delranan.”
Heimdol rubbed his chins. “If what you say is true, perhaps he has a hand in this rumored rebellion.”
Harnin grimaced at the fat redhead. Rebellion. He hadn’t thought much of those rumors until now. Nothing had ha
ppened publicly and no public credence was being given to the rumors of some underground movement. People complained about raised tariffs and the amount of supplies being diverted to the army, but that was their right and it was common enough. No ruler had ever had the full support of the population.
“Who witnessed the escape?”
“The sergeant of the guard appears to be the only one,” Jarrik replied.
Harnin hissed. “And he is dead. There must be another.”
“All of the guards have been questioned.”
“Then we interrogate them harder.” Harnin’s voice turned bitter. He contemplated setting the Dae’shan on his own people. The only thing that mattered was finding Argis and crushing the rebellion that was building. It was the only way he could see to solidify his power.
Heimdol protested. “You ask too much. We cannot begin a war against our own people based on rumors. What will Badron do when he learns of this?”
“The king is not here! I rule in his name and stead. Mind your own affairs before I suspect you of treason as well,” Harnin spat.
Heimdol begrudgingly backed down. His cheeks burned crimson.
Harnin turned back to Ulfdane. “Go. Find the traitor and bring us any rumors of this rebellion.”
Ulfdane nodded sharply and left, glad to be away from the plotting and backstabbing of the king’s court. His passions lay in the hunt, making his task perfect for his talents. Ulfdane marched through the wooden halls of Chadra Keep with thoughts of murder on his mind.
Harnin hid an evil grin as the youth disappeared. “I want agents in the city and port. We must stop this rebellion before it gets out of control.”
“Let us hope Ulfdane finds Lord Argis and puts an end to this nonsense,” Heimdol added, eager to be back in Harnin’s good graces.
“The rebellion might prove more dangerous than we think,” Jarrik cautioned. “If Argis is involved, he might be successful in bringing the population to a full-blown revolt. He has been a favorite among the masses.”
“I will not hesitate to burn this city to the ground,” Harnin affirmed. “Leave me. I have much to think on.”
* * * * *
“Matters have changed drastically,” Argis said dourly.
Murmurs circled around the underground leaders. Many watched the fires in the harbor and the orange glow of Bahr’s former estate burning to the ground. There were increased street patrols. Tension threatened to choke the city. Reports poured in of a rising tide of violence against the people. Chadra was becoming a dangerous place.
“We have every reason to believe that you had a hand in bringing all of this to bear,” said Joefke, a young man with hard eyes the color of flint.
The assembly broke into a dozen voices.
“Wasn’t his fault.”
“…risked his life for us.”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s one of Badron’s men!”
Argis could not remain silent. The time he’d spent with Bahr and the others had shown him the level of strength necessary to combat Harnin. He doubted these men and women had enough strength. Argis raised his hands and bellowed, “Silence!”
One by one they fell quiet. Satisfied, Argis turned on the speaker. “Joefke, I have pledged what remains of my life to ending the horror Delranan is becoming. What more would you ask?”
Joefke refused to back down. The fire in veins was contagious, though misguided. “You could have stood up to the One Eye. All of this might have been averted.”
“We can argue what if until the dawn and it will get us nowhere. Bahr and his companions had to leave the kingdom immediately. I was the only one in a position to help them escape.”
A raven-haired woman with a forceful face countered, “Captain Bahr should have stayed. He has been a hero of the people for many years.”
“You all saw the fires. Harnin was already moving on Bahr. He’d be back in the dungeons or worse if he had stayed. What happened did so for a reason. I can make no accurate excuses or assumptions.”
“What then does the mighty lord of Delranan suggest?” Joefke seethed.
Argis was unaffected by his youthful temper. “Harnin will move quickly. He knows that I am involved and will be relentless in his hunt. We need weapons and the able bodies to use them.”
“None of the guards have deserted,” an old cooper said.
Argis found that disheartening but not entirely unexpected. “What about weapons? How many do we have?”
Joefke shrugged. “A few swords and some farmer’s tools. We have plenty of people but without any weapons.”
“We go get the weapons then,” Argis proclaimed.
The woman asked, “From where?”
Argis actually smiled. “There is a small arms room down by the docks in Stouds. Give me twenty men and a cart and we will have weapons before dawn.”
A collective gasp circled them. Even Joefke paused. For all of his talk he hadn’t expected much of anything to happen so quickly. The leaders of the underground made a quick vote, faster than they anticipated. Truthfully there wasn’t much of a choice. The only chance they had for survival was to move now while Harnin wasn’t prepared to stop them. Joefke volunteered to lead them, at Argis’s side. Argis nodded approvingly and took his band out into Chadra. Too much had changed too soon, leaving the former lord with an uneasy feeling that refused to go away.
Argis stepped over the dead guard. A sliver of blood ran down the edge of his sword. It felt good to swing his blade again. He looked down into the man’s unseeing eyes and shrugged off the silent accusations. The bustle of activity behind demanded attention, forcing Argis away from the dead.
Men had formed a chain and were emptying the arms room quickly. Time was already short. It would not be long before a patrol came by. Argis decided to abandon caution. Secrecy wasted time and put them all in jeopardy. Men unceremoniously dumped swords, daggers, and quivers full of arrows into the small wagon bed. Most of the men did not know how to properly handle such weapons and those who did were on a small perimeter Argis had established for security. Argis, his sword drawn, made the rounds from point to point. The harbor master surely had sounded the alarm already. The underground would prove no match for the trained and disciplined city guard.
Argis rounded a building corner and found Joefke. The younger man was in mild shock. Blood stained his hands and dull yellow beard. He looked up at the taller Argis unbelievingly and then down at the body of a solitary guard at his feet.
“You did well,” Argis told him.
Joefke held up his hands. “Did I?”
He nodded. “That is how it is done, boy. Take no pleasure from killing. I do not believe it is a natural act, but do not dwell on it much either. It was his life or yours. Put it behind you. We have to leave before reinforcements arrive.”
Argis all but dragged the youth back into the action where they helped load the last of the weapons. Satisfied, he collapsed the perimeter and the band of rebels stole off into the night as the sound of hobnailed boots echoed across the pier.
SIXTEEN
Final Days
“I don’t think we have anything capable of stopping them,” Aurec told his father.
He was upset that his father forbade him from returning to the front lines. The danger was acceptable considering the situation, so far as Aurec was concerned. Enemy pickets were less than a kilometer away. Aurec quietly thought his father acted too conservatively.
Stelskor stared at his overzealous son. He wanted to say how proud he was, but this was not the place. All of the senior commanders were present and he wasn’t about to embarrass the boy.
“The Wolfsreik is almost upon us. You have done more than our people could expect from you, Aurec. All of you have. Your actions have given us the opportunity to evacuate our people from this city. A tunnel is nearly complete that should allow most of our defenders to escape once we deem the city is lost. Badron will pay dearly for his aggressions. My question to you, my advisors, is what do you need f
rom me?”
Aurec glanced at the commanders. This was their campaign as much as it had been his. Their needs must come before his. Venten spoke first.
“Sire, I believe I can speak for us all when I say that we do not need anything. The defense of Rogscroft has been our first priority from the start of the war. Aurec’s campaign was designed to buy us time and he has done so. We are ready to meet the Wolfsreik.”
“Thank you, Venten. Keep up your performance and I might draft you back into service for me,” Stelskor smiled. “We must keep in mind that each day we delay the enemy costs them in supplies and manpower. I hear that the Pell Darga are fulfilling their promise to you.”
“Yes, Father. Cuul Ol and his people have been attacking the supply caravans coming through the mountains. This has forced Badron to double the resources needed to ensure they get through. Even so, the Wolfsreik is almost at full strength now. They will be ready shortly to make their advance on us.”
The king nodded glumly. “How long can we expect to hold?”
“Not long. We are down to almost half strength. Their casualties are more than twice ours, but their numbers promise our defeat.”
“I am not willing to throw away our strength so willingly. We continue with the original plan,” the king told them. “What remains of the outer defenses?”
Venten pointed at the map. “We have ambushes set up here in Edgeson Vale and another in the Martis Forest.”
“How can you be so sure the enemy will go into the forests? It is almost two kilometers from the main road.”
Aurec answered. “We have a handful of volunteers willing to draw them in.”
The king frowned. He didn’t condone suicidal gestures, even if it was for the good of the kingdom. Every life was precious. Worse, the sacrifice of one man was a waste and took from the overall defense. “This is foolish. You’ll only waste valuable lives. Our enemy is not so foolish as to follow a handful of random men into an obvious ambush. Their heavy horse will be able to ride those men down at will long before they gain the safety of the trees.”
Tides of Blood and Steel Page 13