Haven Keep (Book 1)

by R. David Bell

  “I have. He has need of my services,” Von said, thankful Kaiden had pulled him away from Berkler, if only for a short time. “It shouldn’t take long. Then I can help you with what you need.” Von hoped it took forever. He didn’t want to be under Berkler’s heavy handed tutoring ever again if he could help it.

  “You are to help me first,” old Berk sneered. “This project has become most urgent.” He was a tea kettle ready to go off.

  “You forget who Von belongs to, Master Berkler,” Anora said in a calm tone. “He will work for my brother and after, if he can be spared, we may lend him to you. If I am not mistaken you had him this morning since before dawn. That time should have been sufficient.” You would have thought that she was Baiden’s heir and not her brother.

  Rage built up in Berkler’s eyes but his face remained calm. There was no way to argue. He turned and stormed out into the cold afternoon.

  “Thank you,” Von sighed, more than just a little relieved.

  “No thanks needed,” Anora replied. She was back to her cheerful carefree self. “He should remember who you belong to,” she said with a smile. A look of proud ownership flashed across her face. “You should remember who you belong to, as well.” Her smile broadened and her eyebrows raised. “Don’t worry. My father will never sell his golden boy.” The mention of that nickname made Von squirm. “Especially not to the likes of him. You are part of the family.”

  Reece’s and Timm’s jaws dropped. Von felt his mouth hanging open. Despite how everyone joked, a bond servant was never part of the family. Von wasn’t just a bond servant, he was a foreigner. Von hoped Reece and Timm possessed enough sense to keep their mouths shut about what Anora had just said. He wished someone would break this uncomfortable silence.

  Anora seemed not to notice her words had stunned the others. Her smile left her face. She stared at the table. The news about Kenn had affected her. It was effecting them all.

  Finally Reece spoke, “I need to get back to work. Don’t worry Timm I won’t say anything about Kenn until it is common knowledge. The rest of you should do the same.” He arose and went to the other end of the kitchen.

  Von arose too. “I should get to work too. I’ll see you later.” He grabbed his cloak and left. Maybe it wasn’t Kenn. Maybe Gam and Timm were mistaken. Von lowered his head, knowing it was an empty hope.

  Von felt Anora’s eyes follow him out the door. He wished he could have comforted her.

  Chapter Five

  The anvil rang out. Von pounded repeatedly with his heavy hammer. Sweat dripped from his brow, ran down his chest, making its way down his back. Normally he enjoyed his work, but today he felt burdened. He reflected on recent events, his mind wandering in directions away from the task in front of him. Could what Timm said actually be true? Von didn’t want to think about it, but his imagination wouldn’t stop conjuring up images of strange beasts and demons. The shadowy rider on the dark horse that plagued his dreams crept into his thoughts as well, and the faint memory of an army invading his homeland was so much sharper these days. There were vivid memories of men and women, faces masked with terror, as an endless horde of invaders rode through the country side, smashed city walls, put fire to the streets. Those memories he could usually block, but one memory stood out. A dark warrior riding at the front of the army. The image that dominated Von’s nightmares.

  Von labored to suppress the pain from his former life. It was the only way he knew how to cope, but last night the dreams started again and with the return of the dreams came the return of memories long forgotten, memories driven deep into his subconscious where he could hide from them. Von shuddered, trying to shake the thoughts away, and went back to work, each hammer strike driving away another demon or ghost.

  He was in Baiden’s workshop, a much happier place than Berkler’s. If anything could make him forget the darkness of the night before, it was working in Baiden’s shop. Here he could shut out the world, be alone with his thoughts, lose himself in his passion for the craft. He pounded on the heated spearhead gripped tightly in his heavy tongs and fantasized about using the unfinished weapon to exact revenge against the Horde.

  “That will never happen,” Von sighed and tossed his large hammer to the side. He worked the bellows, bringing the forge fire back to life. Soon the coals were a glowing white and yellow again. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his shirt. “Time to quit daydreaming and get to work.”

  No shop in Azmark compared with Baiden’s. Large, well kept, and well equipped, it was everything Von imagined a shop should be. It had the best tools, the best forge, supplies for anything and everything. Working in here was therapeutic, much better than working with Berkler.

  The last few days Berkler had been unsufferable, demanding Von work for him. While Von labored Berkler would sit and watch. It was uncomfortable. Von already felt uneasy around the man, but having Berkler scrutinize everything he did put Von on edge. More on edge than normal. Berkler must have trunks and cases full of swords as a result of Von’s efforts over the years. The old blacksmith sold most of those to the merchant ships that frequented the waters of the Emerald Fjord. The swords brought a hefty price, but Von never saw any of the money. Still Berkler remained unsatisfied.

  “What is old Berk after?” Von wondered aloud.

  He returned the unfinished spearhead to the forge fire. He knew Kaiden wanted more arrow heads, but Von was anxious to get back to work with the mysterious metal. He was sure there was something that would satisfy Kaiden stashed somewhere on the shelves. At least a dozen arrowheads or more.

  Dell and Reece were still under the impression the strange alloy was no different than fine steel, so the secret remained Von’s alone. He hoped to keep it that way, at least until he puzzled out more about their find.

  Two daggers lay completed on the shelves. Von wasn’t ready to part with them. He’d taken special care to forge his friends weapons fit for any Lord. The daggers appeared flawless, only Von knew they could have been better. The curious, powerful sensation never returned as he finished the daggers. He wanted to know why.

  . The sensation was akin to the awareness he often felt while meditating with the clerics. No matter what Von did he could not force the feeling to return. The momentum that built with every hammer strike. The oneness with the forge, the hammer, the steel. It was elusive, and despite his efforts he could not summon its return. He even tried meditating before beginning work again. His struggles were useless, and so he finally finished the daggers, but never with the same energy. Von knew the weapons where not what they could have been.

  Each dagger was as perfect as its twin, yet flawed in the same way. Not even the most trained eye could pick out anything wrong, and none but Von would ever guess they could have been much more. What was he doing wrong, and why couldn’t he finish as he started? He wanted to ask for help, but who could he trust? Certainly not Berkler.

  The spearhead heating in the forge fire was formed from one of the mysterious billets. Von had a limited supply of the alloy, so he needed to make this attempt count. Maybe if he tried his hand at something besides a dagger he could figure out what he was doing wrong, somehow finish as he began.

  Von originally planned the spearhead for himself, but he liked the idea of giving it to Kaiden. Why not? Dell and Reece were getting something special too.

  Finishing the spearhead now was an obsession. There was a mystery to solve, one he was determined to puzzle out. Berkler would just have to wait. So would the arrow heads. Right now Von couldn’t focus on anything but the spearhead. It was pulling at him, calling to him from the flames of the forge.

  Outwardly Von appeared calm, but his mind raced as a madman’s. He was transported to a different time and place. The world outside ceased to exist. Hammer stroke after hammer stroke he worked and turned the piece, returning it often to the forge fire. The hammer strikes were musical and began to sing to him the familiar intricate melody. He focused his emotion, drivi
ng himself into a frenzy, incorporating all the secret skills taught him. Von learned the secrets with eagerness and now they were a part of him. He melded those skills together and worked the spearhead in a way he’d never done before. The power overcame him. Working by instinct, he ignored what the master blacksmiths told him could not be done. All his talents he fused together into one technique, a culmination of all the secrets of the Kailfen clan. His skills were not something he could easily explain. He worked by feel more than anything else. Pulled his strength and passion from somewhere deep inside himself. Over and over he struck the metal. At precise times, at precise locations. Folding again and again, creating a razor edge. His work reminded him of the mathematic algorithms the clerics spoke of, yet possessed the feel of a sculpture fashioned by a master.

  He poured his pent up frustration into the spearhead. Again and again the hammer rang on the anvil. The familiar song seized control. A pattern emerged, as the delicate waves created by a pebble tossed into the still waters of a pond, becoming more akin to great boulders crashing into the sea. His movements flowed within that pattern, a dance set to the music of his own making. He forced the metal to his will and the will of the melodious strain. The alloy pulsated in answer to each hammer strike, built to a great crescendo. A strange excitement overwhelmed him. The pattern neared culmination. Von knew the weapon would be a masterpiece.

  A voice at the door startled Von back to reality. “There you are.” It was Reece.

  “You almost done in here?” he asked. “Redd sent me to find you.” Reece stepped further into the forge. “You missed dinner,” he said peering curiously around Von’s shoulder trying to get a closer look. “Whatcha working on?”

  “Not much,” Von answered. “Just some old project.”

  “Oh,” Reece replied, not sounding at all satisfied with Von’s explanation. “When are our daggers going to be done?”

  “Soon,” Von promised, his eyes darting to the shelf where the two daggers lay. He wanted to solve this mystery before he gave them up, before he made his friends the second pair.

  “Baiden didn’t eat in the Hall tonight. He wants you to bring his food to his room.” Reece grinned at Von, “Since I’m still considered the kitchen boy, I got the exciting task of looking for you.” Glancing around he added, “I still say this looks like more fun than working in the kitchen all day.”

  Von shrugged. “I guess it is,” he sighed, looking around somewhat disappointed. The spear would still be of higher quality than most, but the power was gone and he feared he might not get it back, feared the spear tip’s true potential would never be realized. He thrust the heated metal into a bucket of salted water. The spearhead hissed, almost in protest, as if the cooling weapon knew it had been cheated out of greatness.

  Von dried the sweat from his body, wrapped himself in his cloak, then followed Reece outside.

  Night was already here. Obviously Von had lost track of time. The temperature was dropping fast as it often did during the late autumn nights in Azmark.

  “You know, it’s kind of funny,” Reece said. “I could have sworn I saw someone watching you through the window as I walked towards the shop. I think he saw me approaching and left. My mind must be playing tricks on me.”

  “Oh,” was all Von said. He didn’t think Reece’s mind was playing tricks on him at all. Berkler. That man had already been the cause of more grief for Von than he cared to remember. Von could sense more trouble was coming. Now Berkler was spying on him? It sounded crazy, but nothing else could explain it.

  The kitchen was swarming with servants finishing up with the evening meal. Redd had a tray waiting for Von. “This is more food than even Baiden can eat,” observed Von.

  “His councilors be wit’ him,” replied Redd.

  His way of talking always amused Von. It was worse than any sailor Von ever encountered. At least the grammar was, sailors often used more colorful words that Redd refrained from uttering. He claimed those words made you sound uneducated.

  Redd continued, “They be discussing business private like, and d’ not wish t’ be bothered. Tis why they is eatin’ in Baiden’s chambers. They been in t’ere fur some time an’ probably have a worked up appetite. Take t’is to ‘em and be quick ‘bout it.” He shoved the heavy laden tray at Von and gestured with his thumb toward the great Hall.

  Von grabbed the tray and left, apparently everyone was on edge. Von made a mental note not to do anything to agitate Redd any further and hurried on his way.

  The Hall was an enormous rectangle of timbers and woodwork, filled with the citizens of Azmark, finishing a somber dinner. It was a much more subdued group than occupied the Hall the previous night. A few people were seated at some of the tables that ran along the outside edge. At the head of the Hall was an empty table, where Baiden would have normally been.

  The side walls of the Hall were lined with doors leading to private residences. Scores of them. Staircases at each corner led to balconies that ran along the perimeter. The second story was filled with apartments. There was almost enough room for everyone in Azmark to dwell inside the Hall in the unlikely event of a siege. Von realized the thought was a little silly. Who would do such a thing? Of course that was the reason the Hall had been designed this way.

  Von continued on his way, passing weapons and tapestries hung on the walls, covering the timbers that framed the inner structure. The walls were stone, light in color, solidly built and comfortable, remaining warm in the winter and cool in the summer. Von would like to live in here, but only freemen and their families lived within the walls of the Hall.

  Von climbed the nearest staircase and made his way up to the third story. The Lord of Azmark and his family dwelt on this level. It was not extravagant, nothing in this frozen land was. The only difference Von saw in these rooms was they were slightly larger. He turned a corner and his soft boots made silent footfalls down a narrow hallway. He passed a few doors that led to empty rooms only filled when there was a visiting dignitary. There hadn’t been a visitor important enough to occupy them in some time.

  Von stopped at a heavy oak door and knocked.

  A deep voice answered, “Come.”

  Von opened the door and peered around the room. Baiden crouched at the fireplace stoking the fire. He appeared much like his son in height and stature, only mature and even more confident. He was tall and broad, his frame still well muscled even as he approached his later years. His rugged features looked grim.

  “Ah, Von.” His deep voice sounded happier than his expression appeared. “You have brought dinner. Maybe a good meal can lift Jordy’s spirits.”

  Roren, Jordy and Flenn were seated at a plain, but well made table in the middle of the room.

  “It will take more than food to do that,” Flenn said with a smile.

  “This is not something to be joked at, Flenn,” replied Jordy, a man of middle years, some would say still in his prime. His hair was darker than most northern men, which meant it was light brown. A hard man, but a fair man also.

  Jordy went on, “If Roren’s tales are to be believed this is more than just an icebear.”

  “Old men’s tales are often disregarded by the young.” Roren interjected, the oldest of the councilors and by far the oldest in the room. Large as most northern men, so even at his age he was still a foreboding presence, made more so with those flat gray eyes which Von suspected saw everything. “I was young once. At that time these tales were taken for truth. Yet, I have had no evidence in my own life other than the tales of men older than I. Still...”

  “You’ll scare the boy,” Jordy said. “Wait until he leaves.”

  “Never mind Von’s ears,” instructed Baiden. “This is not a secret war council and he is old enough not to be afraid of the wind. What we decide here will soon be known by all.” Baiden was still poking at the fire. He turned to Von, “Maybe you could get this fire going again.” He dropped the poker and returned to his seat at the table.

  Von placed the
tray on the table and went over to the fire. Two massive dark shapes walked over to him from the corner of the room.

  Baiden’s laugh was low and rumbling. “I swear those two mongrels think they belong to you,” he chuckled. “Why don’t you brush their coats while you are here?” Turning to his councilors he continued, “There is no reason why this discussion can’t proceed during dinner. Recent events seem to have increased my appetite.”

  Von threw a couple of logs on the fire and turned his attention to the dogs. Isk and Jen were two of the largest wolfhounds Von had ever laid eyes on and they were definitely not mongrels. Wolfhounds were prized for their obedience, loyalty, and hunting skill. These two had exceptional abilities. Von was privileged to help train them from the time they were weaned and had grown attached to them. Most of the hounds were kept in the kennels, but Isk and Jen were given the run of Baiden’s apartments. They stood watch over their master like sentinels. Von sat down on a stool and began to brush out Jen’s thick dark coat while Isk waited patiently for his turn.

  “A hunting party,” Flenn offered. “That was what we planned before. I don’t see why anything should change now, except maybe an earlier start is needed.”

  “Yes, but who should we send?” Baiden asked. “If Kenn hadn’t have gotten himself killed, things would be much calmer in Azmark. I think I shall need you here Flenn. Kaiden will still be going. He can lead the party.” Baiden paused his gaze resting on Von. “I want grown men. This hunt is not for fun.”

  Von’s shoulders sank. He was stunned. What Timm said must be true. Kenn had been killed by the bear. Hopes of going along vanished. There was little chance before Kenn had died. Now there was none. Poor Kenn. What happened to him?

  “They should leave in the morning,” advised Jordy. “The sooner this beast is killed the better.”