Bahr could only shake his head. He realized their chances of success were relatively small, even with a wizard pushing senility on board. The Sea Wolf sat back down and tried to get the images of his niece out of his head. She might be dead by now. He frowned. That kind of thinking would tear him up inside and steal from the mission. Distractions cost lives. Bahr already had more than enough deaths on his hands, making room for more would be difficult.
Anienam Keiss finally came out from hiding and took the opposite seat from Bahr. His eyes were cold, forbidding.
Bahr wasn’t impressed. “What? No pearls of wisdom or sage advice to give before I commit us all?”
“What is there to tell a man who’s already made up his mind?” he countered.
“I think I prefer when you speak in riddles.”
Anienam flashed a thin, almost feral, smile. “I speak as I must.”
“There’s the crazy old man I know. What is that supposed to mean? I’m trying to decide if you are more of a hindrance than help.”
“A bit of both I believe.”
Bahr’s eyes narrowed to thin slits. “You know something you’re not telling us.”
He stayed silent. The only sound was the gentle creaking of the hull against the tide.
They stared at each other for long minutes. Neither gave way nor flinched. Anienam sat in quiet confidence, as if he already knew how the future was going to play out. That possibility worked to unnerve Bahr. The future shouldn’t be known by anyone; not him, not anyone. Destiny had a part to play and it was up to men to stumble into it. The wizard was an aberration to life.
“Very well. Keep your secrets. I have mine as well,” Bahr finally said. “All I ask of you is that you do your part in keeping us alive until we get back to Chadra Keep. After that you can go as you please.”
Anienam betrayed no emotion. “That has been my intent since seeking you out. Please keep this in mind: you have a great destiny to fulfill. Delranan and indeed all Malweir will have need of you, Bahr.”
“So you keep reminding me.”
Anienam bore a sad look. Could it be pity? “Right now you think only of yourself.”
“How else am I supposed to think? This has not been a kind world to me, wizard. I make no illusions about Malweir owing me, but I also know that I owe Malweir nothing. Not one damned thing.”
“Perhaps not. Perhaps I was wrong and found the wrong man.”
Bahr waggled a menacing finger. “Oh no. I’m not about to play that game. You won’t guilt me into feeling what you want.”
“There is no intent for guilt, but you must be made to understand the severity of the situation.”
Bahr grunted. “Funny how the situation is adapting to suit your needs, not mine. No one is even at war.”
“Yet. You said it yourself, your brother is determined to expand his kingdom. You can’t truly believe you will be safe when that happens?”
“I’ll take my chances.”
“And waste everything? Just get on your boat and sail off until the storm blows itself out? There will come a time when you will be forced to step out of the shadows, Bahr. Become the man you are meant to be. It is the only way.”
The words weren’t stinging, but they had enough conviction to give him pause. Right now all that mattered was rescuing Maleela alive. All else was a secondary concern. He could deal with his brother well enough once they returned home. He’d also be able to think more clearly once she was safe. Hang the rest of the world. Still, he couldn’t abandon all of his friends to such a dire fate. Either decision bore terrible implications. This was not an easy choice.
Anienam remained silent and let him think. He could see the wheels turning in Bahr’s eyes. The captain was not the heartless man he portrayed. He was the sort whose natural aggression was a mask for kindness. The old wizard was old enough to trust to fate. He had faith in the future. Malweir had survived hundreds of wars in his time. Numerous petty tyrants were come and gone. Elves, Dwarves, Trolls and Goblins alike, no race was immune to the madness of dictators.
Anienam Keiss was the last of the mages, older even than his sire Dakeb had been. Time had not been kind. Friendless, the wizard wandered the forests and deserts of Malweir always trying to prevent the dark gods from returning. He often felt that there was more to life. A life he envied in normal Men. Men like Bahr.
“Very well,” Bahr finally said. “I’ll think on your words, though without promises. I don’t like your portents.”
“Fair enough. I ask only you make your decisions wisely.”
Anienam didn’t know how he was going to tell this proud northern man that his actions were going to decide the fate of the world. A dark time was fast approaching and no one was going to be safe. Anienam Keiss closed his eyes. How did one tell another that the dark gods had returned to wreak vengeance upon the world once again and he was the key to victory or doom?
Dredl was unlike anything Skuld had ever seen. Not that his experiences formed much of a basis of opinion. He knew the back streets and gutters of Chadra and the port, but he hadn’t been anywhere else. The rest of the world was still a dream. He only knew hardship and dissatisfaction. Dredl offered the potential of unlimited possibilities. Skuld found it nearly impossible to focus on any one thing. The streets were clean, well, clean enough at least. There were no signs of riffraff or undesirables lurking in the shadows. For a moment Skuld saw himself staying here and making a new life.
“Come on boy,” Boen growled from behind. “We’ve work to do before you go sightseeing.”
Skuld almost snapped back but thought the better of it when he saw the giant Gaimosian stalking up on him. Instead he sighed and bit back his retort. He hefted his pack and waited. Other crew was busy securing the Bane to the dock. Still more had gone ahead to secure lodging for the night and to scout the town. The crew went about their work with mechanical precision. Skuld was most impressed but knew better than to comment by now. The last thing he needed was another thump to the back of his head.
Boen smirked. “I know what you’re thinking.”
Skuld did his best to hide his smile. “I don’t even know what I am thinking. This is all so new to me.”
“This is nothing, lad. I’ve seen cities with thousands of people in them. Towers that touch the heavens. Never been one to care for them either. Almost as bad as the Dwarves and their damned holes in the ground.”
“You’ve seen Dwarves?”
Boen nodded. “Aye. Seen them and fought with a few here and there. Good sturdy folk but I hate their caves.”
A thousand questions sprang forth. All of Boen’s experiences and adventures must have been exhausting. He doubted he had the same level of fortitude to put himself through half as much. He also found it hard to keep the daydreams from returning. Skuld briefly imagined himself a giant swordsman dashing from kingdom to kingdom in the name of honor and justice.
“Stop daydreaming, boy. What’s the matter with you?”
Embarrassed, he replied, “I was just thinking is all.”
“About?”
The Gaimosian dropped the two sacks he’d been carrying and headed back for more. He was a far better warrior than laborer but Bahr had wisely decided to disguise this trip as a trading venture. It would work well enough to give them enough time to pack up and leave town without too much notice. Otherwise, Rogscroft agents would be swarming them in no time.
Skuld watched Boen return with more heavy bags. “What I would give to have done some of the things you have.”
Boen almost smiled. “My life has been one sad affair after another. Spare yourself the trouble and forget about what I do.”
“I’ve only ever seen the gutters of Chadra. My life hasn’t been much better.”
The big man clamped a fatherly hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Lad, I can see the fire in your eyes, but you have to know when to let it cool. I’m not a role model. Never had a family, never known love. All I know is pain and suffering. War is not the fancy
images in your mind. It is demanding, brutal work. The weak die fast and those of us who manage to survive long enough grow bitter, callous. Go find yourself a good woman and an honest living.”
Skuld listened, but remained unconvinced. There had to be more to being a famous warrior than just misery and sad memories. Why were all of the old tales centered around such men if that were true? Certainly Dorl and Nothol lived good lives. Neither seemed to want. They were professionals. Skuld paused to wonder how bad Boen’s life had been to make him act so.
A spark caught then. Skuld suddenly became determined to make more out of his life than what it was. He was convinced destiny held some measure of greatness. This was his chance to prove his worth, not only to himself but to those who held doubts. His thoughts wandered down split roads, some dark, some not. Bahr’s sudden appearance on the dock made him abandon those dreams and focus on the task at hand. The Sea Wolf had every intention of leaving him here. Skuld needed to make his move soon before the opportunity was lost.
“Most of the supplies are offloaded,” Boen told the captain.
Bahr nodded absently. “Have any of the local factors approached us yet?”
A small crowd of merchants and sailors crowded the docks, though none seemed overly interested in the Bane. Gulls squawked as they flew over. A random pelican sat on the stump of an old pier, sharp eyes piercing the blue for fish.
“Couldn’t say. That’s Rekka’s area, not mine,” the Gaimosian replied.
Bahr acted as if he didn’t hear. “We need to sell the goods and get moving. I don’t want to waste any more time than necessary.”
Boen did a quick take on the pier. “Trouble?”
“Maybe. I’ve got a feeling that we are going to have company soon. If Badron has spies here then Rogscroft has spies in Delranan.”
“That means enemy soldiers.”
Bahr smiled weakly. “Then the war begins tonight, with us.”
Boen agreed. “I would not have come along if I didn’t think there wasn’t going to be at least a little blood spilled.”
Dorl and Nothol came up to them. Both noticed the eagerness in Skuld’s eyes but didn’t ask the obvious. Their gait was measured and very controlled, suggesting they were being tracked.
“What news?” Bahr asked.
Dorl rolled his eyes to his friend. “You tell him.”
“We’ve secured billets at the inn on the far side of town. You won’t believe this, but the name is actually the Dragon’s Bane. Seems you’re famous, old man.”
Boen snorted a chuckle.
“A small world,” Bahr grimaced.
He hoped the inn lived up to his expectations of his ship. “Finish with the supplies and get us there. I want everything done by nightfall. Oh and Dorl, no one drinks tonight.”
Dorl Theed frowned.
SEVENTEEN
“Has there been any word on my daughter?”
Badron’s eyes had grown hollow, dark circles aging him. They were shot through with tiny red streaks. It wasn’t that he missed her, truth be told she could already be dead and he wouldn’t lose any sleep. He wanted her back and under his control before she had the chance to give any secrets to his enemies.
Harnin One Eye shook his head. “The Dragon’s Bane should have made port by now. If all goes well they will be moving on Rogscroft within the next few days.”
“Not good enough.”
“My lord, there is no possible way for us to know what exactly is happening. Bahr and your daughter could still be hundreds of leagues apart. There is no way to track the Bane.”
Rage flashed through Badron’s tired eyes. “What good is my senior advisor if he cannot predict the actions of his very own handpicked agents? You give excuses where I seek answers.”
Harnin knew better than to respond. Anything said now would only serve to further enrage an already unstable king. The one eye began to ponder the question of a new king. The situation was dangerous enough. Harnin wasn’t sure how to react. He had plans of his own and those didn’t involve Badron.
“Are you certain that your man on that boat is reliable?” the king asked.
“He is. Ionascu is a dead giveaway, but one that Bahr shouldn’t take much issue with once he finds out. After all, an agent of the king is required for a task so complicated.”
Badron didn’t fail to notice how Harnin managed to deflect accusations when speaking of his people. He knew then that Ionascu and all of the others Harnin hired were going to have to die.
“How goes the mobilization of the Wolfsreik?” he asked in an attempt to prevent himself from reaching out and strangling Harnin unnecessarily.
“The army is close to half assembled. Training is already underway.”
Not good enough. “I do not want to be caught here after the first snow. How much longer until we have enough to march?”
“We could deploy today if need be, but without much of the strength to sustain a major offensive,” Harnin replied.
“We don’t need a long offensive. All I need is to get the army to the walls of Rogscroft. The follow on trains can bring in reinforcements and supplies.”
“That would leave our supply trains exposed to attack from the Pell Darga and whatever forces are left outside of the city. They’d be picked off at will, leaving the rest of us cut off in the middle of winter.”
“What then would you suggest? Send a friendly message with promises of good will and kindly asking for my daughter back? I will see that city razed to the ground before I grovel to Stelskor.”
Harnin struggled to keep his anger from flowing over. “I am suggesting nothing of the sort. I merely point out that we need to march with the full strength of the army at our back. Fragmented, the Wolfsreik will not be strong enough.”
“Perhaps,” Badron said tentatively. “Go to the camp. Press General Rolnir into greater urgency. I want this campaign underway before the snows come.”
Winter was just as much of an enemy as Rogscroft. Heavy snows were responsible for as many deaths as enemy arrows. Worse, the mountain passes would close, sealing them to their doom. Harnin had been part of such disaster before. That was how he lost his eye.
“Three weeks, Harnin. The Wolfsreik marches in three weeks, with or without the full muster. Do not fail me on this.”
Harnin bowed and left.
Badron ignored the man. The door slammed shut behind him. The king of Delranan turned his attentions back to what he had planned for Rogscroft.
The encampment was a sprawling complex of men, weapons, and horses. Huge stacks of materials necessary for making siege weapons lay in random piles on the far side. Row upon row of soiled brown tents filled the plain in precision. Fires spotted the camp in wasted efforts towards keeping the men warm. Roasting meat and cauldrons of boiling stew filled the air with an almost pleasant aroma. Despite the surface tranquility, the camp had but one purpose. War.
Harnin rode in on a roan mare, impressed at how the mighty war machine could so easily be called to action. Life always had a way of seeming simpler amongst men when they readied to deploy. An outsider might view the actions as unorganized and chaotic though in truth it was anything but. Each soldier knew precisely what needed to be done. Sergeants barked orders while senior officers planned the campaign. Life or death was based on a soldier’s level of preparation.
Companies of infantrymen drilled on the open plain. Harnin noted the grim severity in their eyes. It had been long since last they were called to fight. Each was a proven veteran ready to knock off the rust and march back into slaughter. He felt pride stir in his aging heart. It reminded him of his own days in the Wolfsreik and how much he loved his kingdom.
“Lord Harnin, we were not expecting you.”
He looked down to see a familiar face staring back. Granite-like features dominated the man’s face. His skin was weathered from long years of campaign. Thick muscles corded his arms and chest. He casually reached up and clasped Harnin’s hand.
Harnin ha
lf smiled. “I did not have much of a choice. Rumors are circling that you’d been killed in bed with a young whore, General Rolnir.”
“With a very large whore, no doubt,” Rolnir laughed. “It is good to see you again, my friend.”
For a moment Harnin missed his army days. Both he and Rolnir enlisted at the same time and passed the trials. Connections to Badron’s father quickly pulled him from the ranks to palace guard. There were times when he regretted the decision.
“How go things in Chadra? We hear that the king is growing impatient,” Rolnir said.
Harnin replied “You always were one to get straight to the point. Our lord wants you to deploy with half of your full strength. The rest can follow on.”
“That’s madness.”
“A point I won’t argue.”
A gust of wind blew Rolnir’s long locks of silver hair. “There is a reason we have never been beaten. Our strength lies in our ability to fight as a cohesive unit. We are nothing at half strength. The king knows that he’d be sending us to our doom.”
“I tried telling him, but he refuses to listen,” Harnin calmly said. “How much longer before you can realistically march?”
Rolnir rubbed his chin. “We planned on at least three weeks. It will take that long just for all of our units to report in. Forget about getting all of the supplies collected and loaded for a sustained march.”
“Three weeks takes us close to winter’s edge.”
“True, but we still have no deployment orders. What is our target?” Rolnir asked.
“The same as it has always been. Rogscroft.”
The old soldier forced a smile. He saw no significant gain from conquering a kingdom on the far side of the Murdes Mountains. War was well and fine, but it needed to be done in a reasonable fashion. “Finally. I’ve been expecting this for a long time. Let us be done with that sad city and move on.”
“Badron agrees. We must be across the mountains before winter. Otherwise there is no point for any of this.” Harnin gestured to the field around them.
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