“I have waited years for you to return to me and this is how you repay loyalty?” he fumed. “Has your life at Trennaron been so void of humanity to leave you compassionless? I’ve turned down all others in the hopes of holding you in my arms for the rest of my life. I will not be denied again.”
She paused. The thought of drawing her sword briefly entered her mind. Cashi was acting irrationally and she feared what he might do. Pride was the downfall of many and he was ripe to take the first step off of the cliff. Blinded to all but his personal need for a thing that simply didn’t exist, he was potentially dangerous. The crazed look tainting his eyes told her she’d never draw her sword in time.
“Denied what? Our parents barely knew each other when they arranged our marriage. We were five! That is no life to live, Cashi. You and I both deserve better,” she said cautiously. “Stop waiting for me and live your life. You have strength and will soon have the power and respect of the tribe. Any woman would be fortunate to have your hand. My life is already taken.”
He tensed. Cold recognition flooded him, draining his strength. “It is another. You love one of the outlanders.”
She opened her mouth but closed it just as fast.
“I’ve been a fool,” he sneered. The warrior of Teng cast his spear down and stomped back and forth. “How could you abandon me for one of them? Do your own people mean so little to you?”
“This has nothing to do with our people. I have seen things inside Trennaron. Wondrous and terrible things at once. There is much to this world that you know nothing of. How can I go back to such simplicity after learning secrets of the world?”
If he heard he chose not to acknowledge her. “Which one?”
“What?”
“Which one is it? I will call him to single combat. The victor will take your hand and your heart,” he said. He was determined now. Her admission lit a fire in the depths of his soul.
Rekka pointed a slender finger at him as her eyes narrowed. “Enough! This hopeless romanticism has gone on for far too long. You don’t love me, Cashi Dam. You love a thought. Nothing more. Are you so blind as to miss the truth right before your eyes? From this point on you will stay away from me and my companions.”
“How dare you!” he all but shouted.
“You are a great warrior, but you are trapped in the shadows of a memory. I am not yours. I never was. Live your life. Become the leader our people deserve. This self-debasement accomplishes nothing. It is not healthy.”
Rebuked, Cashi Dam retrieved his spear and fixed her with a withering glare. “This is not over, Rekka. Not by far.”
He stormed back into Teng, venting curses in their ancient language. Thoughts of revenge twisted his mind. Rekka watched him go with mixed emotions. She didn’t like the idea of ruining his illusions so bluntly but saw no other choice. Cashi Dam had grown headstrong and reckless since their youth. He was not the same. Nor was he what he should be. Lust had changed him into something she failed to recognize. He was entirely capable of flying off the handle and exacting his hostility on any one of them. She had to warn the others.
SEVENTEEN
Partings
Much to Bahr’s surprise the majority of villagers were up and about their chores well before dawn. He’d seldom seen such dedication, from any race. That train of thought brought him to his current companions. Never an odder group had he served with. A Dwarf, Giant, Gaimosian, wizard, and the Woman from Teng. He couldn’t imagine combining so many different cultures in one quest. Then there were the monsters and other foul creatures stalking them. Bahr felt another twenty years ripped from his life.
He’d never been much for believing in gods or magic. Life was life without much else to it. You were born and lived until you died. He didn’t care so much what awaited after closing his eyes that final time. There wasn’t a point in worrying about what he couldn’t prevent, or control. Lord Death waited for them all. He’d discover the truth when it happened. Besides, there was too much to see in Malweir to focus on what came next. Answerless questions were a waste of time. The demands of the day all but drained him mentally. What little he had left was focused on keeping his friends alive.
Bahr was a realist though. He knew that just because he didn’t have time for gods or other mythical beings didn’t mean they weren’t concerned about him. The dark gods had thrown everything they had at him so far, at least according to Anienam. He didn’t know how much more he could withstand. The uneasy feeling of being hunted by the Gnaal lingered just beyond the edge of consciousness. He wasn’t accustomed to being afraid of much but the very thought of the Gnaal sparked such fear it was all he could do to stay on his feet.
Sighing, he questioned why him. The Sea Wolf pulled his trousers up and headed back into the village proper. Even after six decades he still relished that first trip to the latrine. There were very few feelings like it. He caught the murmurs coming from his companions and a handful of warriors who hadn’t stopped watching them since their arrival. Bahr had a mind to confront them to get the tension out of the way. Only the wisdom born from countless experiences prevented this. Boen may be itching for a fight but Bahr wanted to avoid as much conflict as possible. He didn’t think he had enough left to carry them back to Delranan for the coming war with the dark gods. Wasting time and energy fighting tribal warriors made little sense in the grand scheme of things.
“They call this a wagon,” Boen said and stared at the ramshackle cart barely capable of holding Skuld, much less hundreds of pounds of supplies. “I wouldn’t let my mother ride this.”
“I didn’t know you had a mother,” Nothol chided as he finished strapping down a barrel of fresh water.
Boen frowned. “Keep laughing. When this wreck breaks down and you have to carry the supplies we’ll see who has the last laugh.”
“I’ve been laughing since we left Delranan the second time,” the sell sword replied glibly. “It’s the only thing keeping me sane.”
Snorting his understanding, Boen went off in search of something else to occupy his time. He’d been in the field and campaigns enough to know when to ignore the inconsequential. The wagon was definitely not worth his time. Half of the floorboards were rotted through and the ropes serving as walls were just as bad. He doubted the wagon would last the rest of the day, much less the entire trip to Trennaron.
“How far do we have left to go?” Dorl asked to anyone willing to answer.
Anienam yawned and stretched. His bones creaked. His muscles screamed. He hated feeling old. “No more than a few days I should think.”
“You think? Why aren’t I reassured?”
Giving a cross look to the sell sword, the wizard explained, “The gods of light, in all their wisdom, saw a time when their dark brethren would attempt to return, despite their assurances that all sides would abandon Malweir. So they created Trennaron. It is a place of extreme power, tapped from the very soul of the world some say. I’ve never seen it personally. There are texts in the libraries of Ipn Shal suggesting the jungle moves around Trennaron, keeping it hidden from interlopers.”
“Moves? As in picks up and changes positions?” Ironfoot asked skeptically. “Anienam, trees don’t move in any direction except up.”
“Or down,” Nothol added halfheartedly.
“Yes, yes I know all that. You miss my point. The Jungles of Brodein are imbued with the runoff from Trennaron. There is magic in this place. That’s why Rekka’s dream masters are able to successfully see into the future. Otherwise they’d be shriveled old Men smoking lotus leaves and dancing naked in the dark. The jungle moves. Yes, it picks up and changes positions on a daily basis to confuse numbskulls like the two of you!”
Dorl gave Nothol a quick shrug and mischievous grin. “Guess we hit pretty close to the nerve to get him all riled up.”
“Sounds like he didn’t get enough sleep,” Nothol added.
Anienam folded his spindly arms across his chest and sputtered.
“Relax, wizard. Th
ey’re tugging your chain,” Bahr said. “Although it was fairly amusing watching you lose your mind for a moment. We need a good laugh.” He came close enough to whisper, “You don’t really expect us to believe the trees just get up and walk around at night.”
Indignant, Anienam merely said, “I know what I know.”
Bahr playfully slapped him on the back. “How much is left to do before we can leave? The villagers seemed to want us gone in a hurry.”
“A few more stacks of dry goods and we’ll be ready,” Ironfoot told him. “We did a good job last night. There’s no rush.”
“Not from our end at least.” Bahr stared back at the group of warriors, clearly their watchdogs for the duration of their stay in Teng. “What do you suppose has got them so intent about us?”
He caught Dorl glancing towards Rekka and immediately understood. The weird dynamic between them suddenly grew more complicated with the reemergence of Cashi Dam. It was a complication Bahr neither had the time for nor the inclination to deal with. Part of the reason he’d never been married was to avoid situations exactly like this. Former love interests were bad news and carried the potential to tear the group apart. He didn’t like the idea of leaving anyone behind, especially one of the group. I can see the rush after all. I only hope Dorl doesn’t do anything stupid to jeopardize our quest. Anienam says he needs us all. We can’t afford even the smallest slipup.
As if on cue, Cashi Dam stormed towards them, a host of young warriors eager to prove their worth against the outlanders. Their spears glittered with firelight. Rekka and the others rose and formed a loose semi circle. Her hand was already on the hilt of her sword.
“Nobody do anything sudden,” Bahr cautioned his people. “We don’t want any accidents.”
“Who speaks for you?” Cashi demanded with sudden formality Bahr hadn’t expected.
“I do. What is the meaning of this?”
The tribal leader pointed accusingly at Rekka. “I have come for the one that claims Rekka Jel’s love. If he is worthy he will defeat me in single combat.”
Bahr looked back at Dorl. The sell sword was ready to attack. Turning back to Cashi, he said, “If he’s unworthy?”
Cashi’s grin was pure wickedness. “His corpse will be fed to the jungle.”
A flash. Someone cried out. Weapons dropped. Blinded, Bahr stumbled back a step before running into Boen. Anienam strode forward, coming to stop between the groups. “There will be no duel this morning!”
His voice projected to every corner of the village. It was an old device the Mage orders employed during the war. He never imagined using it in Teng, amongst friends. Most of the villagers remained stunned. They clawed at their eyes. A few were on their knees with tears streaming. Anienam looked at his companions and saw fewer reactions. The direction of the blast had been focused on the villagers, though residual effects tormented the others as well.
“You are the proud warriors of Teng. Why do you debase yourselves for personal gratification when none is required? Have the people of Teng fallen so far from their lofty principles that they are unable to recognize valor, commitment, or integrity?”
“She abandoned commitment!” Cashi shouted. “None of this would be happening if she had fulfilled her duties.”
“I am not cattle!” Rekka shouted back, unable to stand his torments any longer. “I tried to do this without suffering you embarrassment but you are intent on it. Very well. I never loved you, Cashi Dam. Our parents arranged our marriage when we were small children. It is your misguided sense of belief that prevents you from moving on. The world has changed since we were children. I am a grown Woman. A sword master and the defender of the Guardian of Trennaron. Who are you to reduce the meaning of my life to a mere concubine?”
Dorl smiled suddenly, as if a great weight had been cast from his heart. He realized that all of the angst he’d been feeling was misdirected. Rekka was as solid as the day they’d met. He never had reason to doubt her. Ashamed, he moved to stand beside her. All of the animosity was now reserved solely for Cashi Dam and his spoiled warriors.
“You were meant to be mine! The gods demand it!” Cashi protested. Each word was weaker than the first. Not even his lust was enough to keep him from understanding he was on the verge of becoming a laughingstock among his warriors. He’d lose all respect and fall to the bottom. All of his dreams would go up in flames. It was time to tread carefully if he was going to salvage anything. Wheels turning, Cashi started forming a plan.
“Who can say what the will of the gods is?” Anienam asked them all. “We are just mortals. It is not for any of us to pretend to understand their ways. Are you so vain to pretend to know the will of the gods, Cashi Dam? Or are you still the Man chosen to lead Teng into the future for the good of his people?”
“I am that Man,” he said slowly, pronouncing each syllable. “Very well. My warriors will not hinder your movement, but you are no longer welcome in Teng. Leave immediately. May the jungle swallow you all.”
A few of the younger warriors balked, stunned by what they heard. No one ever wished ill of any traveler moving into the jungle. For Cashi to so blatantly summon ill upon their guests was unheard of. They looked over their shoulders, fearful the spirits of Brodein were already barreling towards them with death in their claws.
Bahr ignored the urge to spit at the young fool and simply said, “Finish loading up. This village isn’t what we’re looking for.”
Cashi rose to the insult and stepped forward until Boen emerged and smiled. Pride was no match for the martial prowess of a Gaimosian and the jungle Man knew it. Instead of retreating he stood his ground, hoping the display was enough to satisfy honor. The rest of Rekka’s companions ignored him and went back to work. There was still much to do and little time left in which to do it. Most felt the sooner they were away the better things would get. All were willing to take their chances with the jungle rather than spend another moment in the suddenly hostile village of Teng. Only Rekka expressed sorrow. She bore no love for her home, but it saddened her to think she’d never be able to return.
The sun was just beginning to creep above the far horizon when the wagon groaned into motion. Horses sniggered. None of the riders spared a backwards glance. It had been a mistake coming here. One they were more than ready to put behind them. Only the jungle and Trennaron remained ahead. They were close to the Blud Hamr and completing their quest. The noose drew tighter.
EIGHTEEN
What Remains
Chadra was entirely unrecognizable. First the rebellion and then the plague saw to the permanent restructuring that left it all but a burned-out ruin. Those citizens fortunate enough to survive the plague fled to the countryside in the hopes of finding a place in nearby villages or, for those especially brave souls, deep in the south far away from civil war. Many froze to death along the way, for winter continued to worsen. The death toll was near catastrophic. It would be many years before the true reckoning of this winter was known, but Chadra and all Delranan would never be the same again.
Ingrid pulled the wool blanket tighter around her shoulders as they continued to ride. The arguments over staying in Chadra or moving to the countryside were rendered moot by Inaella’s betrayal. Tufts of bright blond hair poked from under her hood. They were the only brightness in her world. Her first mistake was in thinking the plague had consumed the former leader of the rebellion council. She should have killed Inaella when she had the chance but a misplaced sense of honor prevented it. Ingrid didn’t like killing. In fact she hated the sight of blood. Her stomach turned every time. Going through the physical act of killing would shake her to the foundations of her belief system, leaving her a husk of what she could have been. She wasn’t ready to make that leap, yet.
She briefly studied the endless sea of white drifts. Winters were normally harsh but this year proved much worse than any in recent memory. Abandoned homes were stripped of any usable wood. Families huddled under thick pines hoping for another dawn. Others s
imply gave up and went out into the wilderness to die. It pained Ingrid to see so much suffering, knowing she was part of the problem. Coupled with her personal grief from so many losses, she turned inward and used it all to her advantage. She needed to feel rage in order to continue. Otherwise…
A trio of crows, black as midnight, burst from a small stand of white birch. Their calls mocked her. Ingrid looked back over her shoulder. They left Chadra two days ago and she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling of being hunted. The Wolfsreik were relentless when given a task. Harnin drove them to extremes in his efforts to pacify the kingdom in his image. The crows served as a reminder.
“You need to relax,” Orlek recommended.
“How can I? We barely escaped the city. Harnin will stop at nothing to find us.”
He shook his head. “Harnin is blind, Ingrid. He hunts a shadow, nothing more. Even with Inaella’s aid he can’t catch up. The rebellion is effectively scattered now. There’s no easy way for him to contain us. Not without killing off most of the population.”
She reined in her horse. “Do you really think he’ll go that far?”
“Once, no, but after everything we’ve seen? Harnin will burn Delranan to the ground so long as it suits his purpose. He’s a vile creature.” Orlek spat a wad of phlegm in disgust. “The gods have truly abandoned us to allow a Man like that the freedom of doing what he wants.”
Ingrid blinked to clear the cold-induced tears away. “Harnin does what his character demands. I don’t know if blaming the gods helps anything. We know how he is. That should make it easier to combat him. We need to be the steel against his will.”
“Save the speeches for the rank and file. I’ve been with you from the beginning and will continue to do so until the end. Just don’t patronize me with grand speeches,” he told her flatly. “I’m a soldier. Point me at the enemy and I know what to do. You’re the brains behind the rebellion now. You can’t afford to think small.”
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