Tides of Blood and Steel

by Christian Warren Freed

  “There is a well two houses down. I will fetch it for you.”

  They watched the young Giant go, an enormous bucket in his hand.

  Boen set his tack down on an empty part of the nearest workbench. He noticed the familiar gleam in Bahr’s eye. “What are you planning?”

  “I want to find out what our illustrious wizard is learning,” he replied.

  Nothol and Dorl exchanged wary glances, but knew better than to comment.

  Even Boen disapproved. “You put us all at risk. I advise against it.”

  “Anienam isn’t exactly trustworthy, Boen. He knew where to find this place all along, but chose to let us bumble our way through it. I don’t like being played for the fool.”

  “These Giants aren’t the sort we need to be troubling,” Boen reminded him.

  “When did you become the sensible one? You’ve been Mister Run-through-them-with-a-sword and move on since we left Delranan. Don’t change your song now.”

  Boen forced a smile he did not feel. He’d been through enough challenges over the course of his life to know when not to rise up against the odds. Attempting to anger an entire tribe of Giants bordered on suicide. “I know my limitations, Bahr.”

  Nothol Coll couldn’t remain silent any longer. “He’s right. The Giants don’t trust us. It is too early to risk going against their wishes.”

  Anger flashed in Bahr’s cheeks. “I don’t give a damn about their wishes. What I want, what I need, is to find out what that old Giant has to say about the hammer so we can be about our business. The answers affect us all.”

  “Doing so only places unnecessary danger on us,” Boen said and punched his saddle. “I believe their little threat about being thrown from the highest mountain.”

  Bahr couldn’t understand why they were so adamantly against him. They’d been through enough scrapes and close calls since leaving Chadra the first time that this one shouldn’t be any different.

  “Regardless of what you believe, I don’t wish to die up here. There is no honor in it,” Boen’s voice was controlled, every word measured before he spoke.

  His hand rested precariously close to his sword. It was more instinct that thought. Gaimosian blood was thick with battle prowess. He had no desire to combat his friend, but had no trouble in doing so if push came to shove. “Think about the consequences. We are all in jeopardy.”

  “Don’t get in my way on this.”

  “Why? What is so damned important that you risk all our lives?”

  Bahr raged. “I don’t trust the wizard! He’s hiding something and I want to know what.”

  “That’s it?” the Gaimosian asked. “I don’t trust anyone. Get used to it. We will all live a little longer that way.”

  Boen’s comment diffused the situation, at least for now. None of them wanted to fight each other. The urge to take a break from all of the troubles and worries of their quest suddenly overcame Bahr and he sank to his knees. Groge reentered a moment later with a bucket full of water and an adolescent grin. If he only knew.

  TWENTY-NINE

  A Past Revealed

  The walk through the Giant village was refreshing, yet mildly disconcerting. The Giants may have been friends of his father, but they remained cold to him. Anienam had a sinking feeling that he should have come here much sooner in his life. Not that it mattered much. His life had been dedicated towards stopping the dark gods until he passed the mantle to the next man or the gods of light returned. The enormous cathedral dominating the far end of the valley led him to believe the culmination of his life’s work was coming.

  “Your people still believe in the gods,” he commented.

  Joden nodded. “Since the beginning. We have never lost our faith. It has helped define who we are.”

  Warmth spread through Anienam’s heart. “Would that more races still held on to religion. Malweir might not be such a dangerous place.”

  “Most of the races are young, yours included,” Joden replied. “We Giants were among the first to stride across the world. There is much wisdom to be learned over that much time.”

  “How old are you?”

  The question was too tempting to pass on. He knew nothing of Giants. Most of the collected knowledge had been lost when the Mage fortress of Ipn Shal burned to the ground. A thousand years had done nothing to ease the hurt of such tragedy. Anienam once held dreams of rebuilding the grandeur of Ipn Shal. Time and the lack of magic left in the world slowly forced those dreams away. The ruins were meant to remain just that.

  “That is a secret your father never discovered,” Joden replied. He broke into a gentle smile. “As venerated as he was among our kind, there are some things that are meant to remain unspoken.”

  Fair enough, Anienam thought. We all have our secrets. He opted to change the subject. “I would like to see the inside of the cathedral before we leave.”

  “That might be possible. Blekling and his closest supporters will not sit idle for long. They will seek to expel you from Venheim before long. He is from the newer thinking.”

  Anienam had a feeling what Joden meant but wasn’t sure. “Which way of thinking is that?”

  “The one where no one but a Giant is to be trusted. They keep faith only in their own kind. Once, we welcomed visitors here. Those days are barely memories anymore. Now we hide in our mountain villages and waste our lives in quiet isolation. I find it distressing from time to time.”

  Anienam was surprised. Dakeb once told him that several Giants had been among the ranks of Mages. Despite their massive size, they were among the more gentle races. Still, the wizard dreaded the day when they were provoked into war. Latent anger rested just beneath the surface here.

  “The other races have much to share. The Elves once had a forge to rival this one,” Anienam said.

  Most Giants would have dismissed him right there. Joden merely took it in stride. “I have heard whispers of the star silver sword. I cannot deny that my heart has longed to behold it just once before I die.”

  Phaelor. The star silver sword. Elven smiths wrought the fabled sword during the time of the Mage Wars. It was the only weapon capable of destroying the crystal of Tol Shere. Anienam shrugged off a chill. The crystal had been meant as a source of unlimited knowledge. Reality proved different. Evil corrupted the crystal and a young Mage named Sidian fell under its spell. His name was forever linked to the most devastating time in Malweir’s history. Sidian became a plague lasting centuries. The nightmare didn’t end until Dakeb led an ill-fated quest to destroyed his once friend. The crystal and Sidian were both consumed in the destruction caused by the sword.

  “Sadly, the Elves reclaimed Phaelor after Fennic Attleford used it to kill the Silver Mage,” Anienam said.

  Joden grunted softly. “It is unfortunate, though possibly for the best.”

  “How so?”

  “The sword was created for a specific purpose. With that purpose done, it should not be left to the devices of another handler.”

  Joden, along with most people, knew the story of that final night in the city of Aingaard when Phaelor slew the Silver Mage. Giant smiths saw the sword as a treasure to be used sparingly and with extreme reservations. Magic had its uses and was easily corruptible. The crystal of Tol Shere proved the dangers in higher powers. The constructs of Men were easily susceptible.

  “They say the sword can choose who will wield it,” Anienam said. “I must admit that the magic imbued in the sword is well beyond my skill. Unfortunately the Elves are loath to admit their secrets.”

  The Giant nodded. “As well they should be.”

  They arrived at Joden’s home without ceremony, the conversation ranging in topics. Anienam was greeted by a roaring fire with flames easily as tall as he was. Joden still added a few more logs to the fire though. He then fixed a kettle of water for tea and joined the wizard on the course stone chairs at the table.

  “You broke the subject nicely with talk of the star silver sword,” the Giant said after a few mo
ments of awkward silence.

  Anienam admitted, “I did have a few moments of consternation, especially when Blekling raged.”

  Joden brushed off his concern. “He means well. The wrong sorts are normally the ones who come searching for weapons like the Blud Hamr. Caution is prudent. Blekling just needs to learn how to speak rationally with others.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Tell me what you know of it, the hammer.”

  The question helped Anienam relax somewhat. “Not that much. I hadn’t even heard of it until I discovered the book buried beneath Chadra.”

  Joden went to snatch the boiling water from the fire. He moves well for an old man, Anienam noticed. He looked down. Joden grabbed the handle, which was just as hot as the kettle, with his bare hands. Decades of iron work had turned his hands into meaty slabs of callous. Joden didn’t even react to heat that would sear a normal man’s flesh away. He smiled as he poured two mugs. Steam formed beads of moisture on his hardened face and he apologized for having no small mugs.

  “The Blud Hamr is…special. It is much like the Elven sword,” the forge master began after resuming his seat.

  Anienam remained silent.

  “Long ago, our greatest forge masters were visited by a trio of men claiming a terrible evil had been loosed upon the world at the time of the dark gods’ banishment. These men believed in the gods of light and devoted their lives towards staying evil’s hand. Some say the Order they founded still exists.”

  He left it open, as if wishing Anienam to confirm or deny the rumor.

  “If they do, they remain hidden deeply underground. Secret societies all but died out after the fall of Ipn Shal. Mages became as popular as my friend the Gaimosian,” Anienam admitted.

  “The Gaimosian tale is a grand tragedy,” Joden agreed. He stared into the fire. “Regardless, the forge masters consented and created the Blud Hamr. It took nearly ten years to complete. The men of the Order returned and, along with a band of Giant warriors, headed south to deal with the evil. A great war was fought. Many died on all sides. The strength of the hammer was enough to break the dark gods’ hold. Their dark tower in an enchanted forest was smashed apart. The survivors returned the hammer and were not seen again by Giants.

  “The hammer has only been used twice since its creation. The second time was by a band of my brothers. They went far into the north to kill a dragon responsible for murdering hundreds, mainly women and children. Dragons are not particular about who they slaughter.” He sighed. “Those were more violent times. They slew the dragon and returned as heroes.”

  Anienam’s eyes widened with shock. “I have a vague recollection of that. It predates the beginning of the Mage orders.”

  “By almost a thousand years.”

  “And the hammer has not been used in all the time following?”

  “I told you, it is special. Very special indeed.”

  Anienam fell silent in thought. Much didn’t add up, but, then again, little did these days. He’d lived long enough to realize most scenarios seldom went according to plan.

  “Have the Giants made any other weapons like it?”

  “No. I am ashamed to admit it, but we have lost the secrets of master craftsmanship. Many of us have dedicated our lives to reclaiming those secrets, but all have come up empty.”

  “That is a sad tale.”

  Joden actually smiled. “It provides focus to our work. Truthfully though, I do not believe Malweir has need of another such weapon.”

  Anienam couldn’t have agreed more. Magical weapons meant dark forces were loose. The less of each, the better. Father must be turning in his grave, Anienam mused. A sudden thought struck.

  “Why did you call the Blud Hamr a tool? I was under the impression it was a weapon.”

  “It is a tool. The forge masters intended it to be a conduit to the gods of light. Their power is channeled through it to the user. We have never been a violent people. We believe in peace and try to live by that simple code.”

  “Why create a weapon capable of such destruction?”

  “As you say, the world is a dangerous place. Nothing we do will change it. Who were we, mere Giants, to refuse the will of the gods?”

  Joden shrugged. He was a simple being, despite all of his age and wisdom. He finished his tea with a satisfied groan. “A mug of tea always helps me sleep better during the cold winter nights.”

  “I would think it is always cold up here.”

  “You get used to it after a few decades.” Joden smiled. “I have told you how the hammer was created; now tell me why you seek it.”

  Anienam decided to dive right in and get it over with. “The story is…complicated. We have found ourselves embroiled in a much larger war than just Delranan and Rogscroft. I have every reason to believe the Dae’shan have returned and are manipulating key players in the north. For what purpose I cannot guess.”

  It was Joden’s turn to be shocked. “That name has not been spoken here in a very long time. What could they possibly want now, after so long? And in the northern kingdoms? It does not make sense to me.”

  “Nor me, but the threat is no less real.”

  “If what you say is true, we are all doomed.”

  Anienam quickly said, “Not if we manage to get the hammer and stop them.”

  “The hammer is not in Venheim,” Joden said.

  The wizard’s world crumbled around him. “What do you mean?”

  “After the dragon was killed a delegation from the Order returned to explain a great many truths. They warned that the enemies of light had been defeated, but not destroyed. Agents of doom were dealt a blow, but they would not stop in their quest to destroy all life on Malweir. This sparked much debate amongst my people. We finally relented and allowed the Order to take the Blud Hamr to a more central location to be protected and held in waiting. The hammer has been safe in their temple for the past thousand years. It rests, waiting for the time when it will be called again.”

  Joden leveled his gaze on his guest and continued. “I never dreamed that such would happen in my lifetime. It is a sad day for all races that you have come to Venheim.”

  Anienam was speechless. He felt as if his heart had been savagely ripped out and crushed beneath a boot heel. All of their plans revolved around retrieving the hammer from the Giants and heading west to Rogscroft to battle the Dae’shan. Now he discovered it was all a lie. The hammer was no closer than it had been at the beginning. Hope began to fade.

  “Who was this Order you mention? I’ve found nothing at all concerning them,” Anienam asked in confusion.

  Joden sipped noisily from his mug. “The Order doesn’t exist anymore, or so I believe. They were hand selected among each of the races for exceptional attributes the rest of the world lacked. They served the gods of light infallibly. I vaguely recall mention of the Dae’shan succeeding in hunting them down to extinction. A shame really. Malweir needs more good souls willing to step forward in dark times.”

  Anienam felt his strength sage. “And their temple?”

  “You wear a look of cold dread,” Joden remarked. “Calm yourself. We know where the temple is located.”

  “Where?” was all he could manage.

  “The jungles of Brodein. The temple is in the city of Trennaron. You will find the hammer inside.”

  More mysteries sprang to life, ones Anienam couldn’t possibly hope to unravel. Too many questions were dancing in his head, giving him a fierce headache.

  “Stay your mind, my friend,” Joden cautioned sympathetically. “I do not have the answers you desire. Be content knowing the hammer is secured in Brodein.”

  “We go to the jungle then,” came a new voice from the shadows.

  Giant and wizard spun. Anienam scowled as Bahr edged into the light, a triumphant smile on his face.

  “Bahr?”

  Joden rose to his full menacing height. “You should not be here!”

  The Sea Wolf ignored the Giant. “The others are with Groge
. I am here because I’m tired of being kept in the dark. I want answers.”

  “Where is Groge? Does he know you are here?” Joden pressed.

  Anienam felt matters disintegrate. “Go back before someone realizes you are missing. We are being watched, you fool!”

  “No. I am tired of being pushed around and told what to do. It ends tonight. I am the son of kings and refuse to be treated like a serf.”

  Joden snarled, unimpressed with the outburst. “It does not matter who you are if Blekling discovers you disobeyed his wishes. Go back to Groge, I will not keep your friend much longer and none of us needs trouble this night.”

  A booming knock trembled the door. Joden closed his eyes in mild anguish. It was already too late. Groge burst in.

  “Forgive my intrusion, forge master, but one of the…” He went silent as his gaze fell on Bahr. Fury shook his massive frame. “You will return with me at once. Blekling already knows you have escaped me. He will not be long.”

  The silence lasted hardly as long as a single breath.

  “Joden! Bring out the Humans!” Blekling’s voice growled across Venheim.

  * * * * *

  Slivers of moonlight turned Venheim into a haunted place. Light winds ripped over the mountaintops, forcing sheets of powdery snow across the higher altitudes. The Hags huddled in the sparse warmth of their feathery wings and watched the sleeping village below. Dark eyes focused on the cathedral’s steeple.

  “Should we warn the Dae’shan?” Brom asked.

  Freina gave it barely a thought. “We do not know why the humans have come to see the Giants yet. We wait.”

  The Harpies sat and watched.

  THIRTY

  Trial

  The six Giants surrounding Bahr glared down contemptuously. There was no mistaking the malice Blekling and his supporters shared. Groge was off in the corner, head hung low in shame. Only Joden remained nonplussed by the event. He knew Blekling’s games and refused to play them.

  The elder was furious at the subtle betrayal. “You spit on the trust I have given you. Why?”