Haven Keep (Book 1)

by R. David Bell

  “Yes,” Kaiden answered, “but we must also rest. We cannot survive too many more days like this one.” Kaiden was in no mood for any more stories. He did not know what to think of this days events. There was a logical explanation for sure, but none he could grasp and he didn’t want to believe Soren’s, though it was the only one that made sense.

  “I’ll take first watch,” he said. “No arguments.”

  Soren nodded a response. He joined Donell in the shelter. With the men and dogs all inside enough body heat should be generated to warm even Soren’s old bones.

  “Biv, you too.” Kaiden said.

  Biv complied with a grunt. He seemed to be quite recovered, at least physically. Kaiden still didn’t know what to make of Biv’s story, or of Lester’s behavior. Alone with his thoughts Kaiden’s mind returned to his father. Why was he behaving so strangely towards him? Towards Von? Towards everything? His father was on edge, Kaiden knew not only from his father’s moods, but from his behavior as well. He kept secrets, Kaiden understood, but this time there was something big, something his father was holding back. Kaiden wished he was at home so he could find out for sure what it was. Perhaps then he would better be able to puzzle out his father’s motives.

  Kaiden knew he should focus on what he was doing now and not on events at home. There would be time enough for that. Still, he couldn’t help but think his father had used this beast as an excuse to get rid of him for a few days. A trip to Haven Keep would keep him away for another week at least upon his return. Something was going on that his father didn’t want him involved in. Kaiden wanted to return home, get some answers, but how could he? The beast was out there. It had now killed another man. Bear, cat, scourge, or vyr it could no be allowed to live and Kaiden could not return home until he’d seen this through. Tomorrow was another day. Tomorrow the beast would die.

  Soren’s warning of the coming storm proved true. The wind whipped down off the mountains, and gusts sent the snow swirling through the camp. Kaiden was beginning to believe Biv. This storm did seem unnatural. Normally he would have retreated inside, but with the earlier happenings and the possibility of other men nearby, men who obviously did not want to be detected, Kaiden did not dare. He was the look out, so he remained in the storm, watching the night. His mood made him think the night might be watching back. The wind shrieked, the sound of a banshee from the stories he’d been thinking of. It blew through the trees, playing a solemn death dirge, a march for the dead.

  Someone stirred inside the shelter. It was Biv. He stuck his head out the small opening that was left for a door.

  “Go back to bed,” Kaiden said. “You most of all need sleep. The rest of us will take turns with the watch tonight. You can have a turn tomorrow night when we are safely on our way home.”

  Biv did not answer. He emerged from within, staring straight forward he stumbled closer to the fire.

  “Biv,” Kaiden sighed. What now? “What are you doing?”

  Still no answer. Kaiden grabbed him. Biv’s eyes were blank, glassed over, staring into the distance. Kaiden shook him. Sleep walking, Kaiden thought. Biv pulled free and took another step towards the darkness. Again Kaiden took hold of him, grabbing him on the upper arm.

  A quick back hand sent Kaiden sprawling to the ground. He barely missed the fire. Kaiden bounced to his feet and put his hand to his mouth. His lips were cracked and bleeding. Biv was going to regret that. Where was he?

  “Biv?!” Kaiden yelled. He’d disappeared. “Biv!!” He could not have been fool enough to go out in the storm. What was he doing? “BIV!”

  The other men piled out of the shelter. Soren already had his sword belt strapped on. He was the image of a warrior ready for battle.

  “What’s going on?” Donell inquired.

  “Biv is gone,” Kaiden said. “He hit me and ran off into the storm.”

  “Hit you?” Ralf asked. “What for?”

  “How should I know?” Kaiden snapped. “He didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look at me.”

  “The Scourge.” Ralf was convinced.

  “There are no such beasts,” Donell snapped, sending an accusing glare in Soren’s direction.

  Soren did not appear to notice. “It is the beast, a vyr I believe,” he said. “It is now hunting us.”

  “Get the dogs,” Kaiden announced. “Were going after him.”

  “That is not wise,” Soren advised. “This night’s storm is fiercer than last’s. He will be dead before we find him. If he is not already.”

  “I’m not going to let him die,” Kaiden growled.

  “Me neither,” Donell and Ralf echoed together.

  “I will follow wherever you lead,” Soren acknowledged. Maybe, Kaiden thought, I should be following Soren’s lead. Kaiden felt Soren had resigned himself to the possibility of death before they’d even left from home.

  Donell turned and ran into the night, with just barely more warning than Biv had given. Ralf was close on his heels. Kaiden stood looking at Soren for a moment, wondering what was going through the man’s mind, then chased after the other two men. Soren was quick to follow, Kaiden could hear his footsteps in the snow behind him.

  The four men and five dogs ran blindly into the wind. Biv’s tracks were already filling with snow. Kaiden could only see a few spans into the distance. This was madness. Soren was right. Biv’s own actions had killed him.

  The slope rose steeply. Biv’s trail headed straight up. Following him was difficult. Up and up they went keeping as fast a pace as they could manage, only there was still no sign of Biv. The snow deepened, it was nearly up to Kaiden’s waist now. They could not keep moving in this, especially straight up the mountainside. The wind bit into his already chapped face and split lip. He ignored the cold and wet snow, redoubling his efforts. There must be another way, but still they pressed on. He refused to give up again, not when they were so close.

  Ahead Kaiden heard a low rumble. A noise he’d heard before, but always from a safe distance. The low rumble increased to a loud roar. There was a split second to prepare to die.

  Avalanche!

  A wave of snow slammed into his face. Rolling and tumbling he struggled to stay above the rushing snow. Gasping for air he tried to climb to the top. Desperation overtook him. He was fast becoming buried. Kaiden felt he was swimming in frozen sand. His lungs fought for air. The river of snow swept him downward, the crushing weight pressed on him, pulling him along. He twisted around, clawing toward the surface, the flow of ice relentless. It hurled him down the mountain. His lungs burned. Which way was up? He could no longer tell. He fought on. It was hopeless, but he would not let himself give in. Onward he rolled and tumbled. How long was this going to last? Finally the snow slowed. The sensation of movement continued. Then all was still. He was enveloped beneath a mountain of snow. Surrounded by blackness, he could see nothing. The pressing darkness soon overcame him.

  Chapter Nine

  Von arose early again, anxious to get to the forge. He enjoyed his labors more now he was working for himself.

  He was attempting to forge another dagger, this time for himself. Each time he returned to the forge the metal refused to react as it did the day before. It was a mystery that tickled the back of his mind.

  Today, he told himself, he would work out that mystery. He needed to finish a piece soon. Baiden allowed him to use the smithy, but the materials were not free. Von needed to pay for those with the money he earned working. The only problem was Von hadn’t produced anything yet.

  Come to think of it there might be a couple more problems. Merchants and traders were becoming scarce with the wars in the south, but as long they didn’t stop coming all together there should still be a market for his wares. The other problem was Berkler wouldn’t like the extra competition. Von would deal with that by avoiding Berkler as much as possible.

  Baiden, for the time being, was allowing Von to keep his age a secret, but it wouldn’t be long before the news was out. Von stayed in his old
room, trying to prolong the farce. He wasn’t ready to move yet.

  Baiden had been strangely amiable towards all of Von’s requests, saying, “Whatever you wish to do will be fine.”

  During the last couple of days Von found those words to be true, and not just concerning his living situation. Von truly was free. He did what he wished when he wished. Baiden no longer requested anything of him. His chores were even delegated to other servants. Von chuckled to himself wondering how that was going over with his friends.

  Baiden never mentioned their conversation, nor his instructions to Kaiden that night in Baiden’s chambers. It was strange to think Kaiden would one day be Lord of Azmark. His friend, who always did his best to shirk responsibility, leading the entire north and all its peoples. Von hoped Kaiden was doing well. He didn’t envy Kaiden, spending the last three nights outside in the freezing cold. He did feel a little jealousy toward him for the chance to go hunting. Maybe Von could go in the spring when it was warmer.

  Kaiden’s hunting party should be returning soon. If they didn’t arrive within the next day or two they would be considered late. Von was sure Kaiden would return by tonight, if not, then for sure in time for dinner tomorrow. How long did it take to chase down a bear?

  Von pulled on his boots and ducked outside. It was still dark, and he couldn’t wait to get into the warmth of the forge, but first he wanted to stop by the kitchen. Von could see a small light glimmering through the curtains in the kitchen window. Someone was up. Probably Redd, getting ready for breakfast. Von slipped in through the large oak door.

  Redd was standing at the stone oven. “Up early ‘gain,” he said with a nod in Von’s direction, “Breakfast ain’t ready yet, but ye can have sometin’ from last night.”

  Dell was at one of the tables, kneading some dough. He looked comical with his hair matted and shooting in different directions. “Don’t know why you would want to be up so early if you didn’t have to be,” he grumbled.

  “Some folks be havin’ a work ethic,” Redd directed to Dell. “Von ‘ere seems t’ be learnin’ the value of an honest days work.” He smiled at Von. “Might be some hope fer others I be knowin’.”

  “Just came to see if I could scrounge some breakfast,” Von said sheepishly.

  “I thought ya might,” Redd said. “I fixed sometin’ fer ya last night ‘fore I went ta bed, ‘case ya got here ‘fore we did.” He pointed to a plate on the table. “Help yerself, and make sure ya come back fer lunch t’day.” Redd wagged his finger at Von. “A growin’ boy like yerself can’t go all day ‘thout eatin’.”

  “I’ll remember that,” Von conceded with a grin. He picked up the plate and was out the door, hoping to avoid any more lectures, no matter how light hearted they were. “Thank you,” he called and the door swung shut behind him.

  Rolls stuffed with mutton, apple slices, and a bit of extremely sharp cheese made for a tasty breakfast. Redd sure knew how to please. Von scarfed down the food on his way to the forge.

  The shop was just as he’d left it the night before. A few coals from the fire were still burning with a dull glow. Von added more fuel to the fire then licked the last bits of food from his fingers and began working the bellows. The dying coals saw new life blown into them, glowing orange and red. Soon the fire was blazing at the right temperature.

  He retrieved the dagger blade he’d been working on from the stand. It didn’t look like much yet. Von used the tongs to place it in the bed of coals. The metal heated until it matched the color of the searing flames. Von began to pound and shape it.

  The hammer rang out. He struck the dagger, blow after blow. The sound was not right. The rhythm was not right. This piece was lost too. It wasn’t ruined, it could still be made into a fine weapon, but Von’s instincts told him the knife just wasn’t what it was yesterday. Something about the metal alloy he was using. Something about the pattern and precision of his strokes. They weren’t fitting together, not like they were yesterday.

  Von wanted to scream. What was he doing wrong? Yesterday this blade sang to him as he worked it. Today it felt like the hard lump of scrap metal it was. He could still turn it into a beautiful piece, and fetch a nice price, but that didn’t satisfy him. He felt so close to unlocking some sort of secret. He was on the verge of discovery, yet at the moment this mystery was leagues from his grasp.

  Von cooled the blade in the bucket of water. Disappointed he placed the unfinished piece next to those from the previous days. It was becoming quite a pile. He would return to them eventually, but not now, not when he was so close.

  Von had only a small supply of his alloy left. He’d used up two of the billets already and part of the third. If he didn’t figure this out soon he would go through it all, and then where would he be?

  He wondered what old Berk would do to get his hands on some of this alloy. Small matter if he did, Berkler wouldn’t know what to do with it either and he probably wouldn’t know what it was any more than Von did.

  Von retrieved what was left of the third billet. He could forge two more daggers out of this one, then he would only have one billet left. He was determined to not repeat the previous days mistakes.

  He heated the metal carefully and cut it with a wedge. Half went back on the shelf, the other in the hot coals. He worked the bellows until the stock glowed bright yellow. He retrieved the metal and began to work. Slowly at first, constantly returning it to the fire. Then faster and faster he hammered. Feverishly, almost in a frenzy he hammered and pounded. The pattern began to emerge, just as he hoped it would. Not a visual pattern, at least not one that was easily seen, but Von knew it was there. His body and hammer were in harmony with the metal, his work sang as it came to life. Each stroke added life and power, layer after layer. He felt this before. How to sustain it, how to keep it he did not know, but for now it resonated through him, permeating the alloy that would become the knife blade. Von was determined he would know. The secret was there, somewhere. Pound and fold, pound and fold. He labored as the hours of the morning melded together. Immersing himself in the pattern he created he lost all concept of time.

  “You missed lunch again.”

  Von turned around with a start. It was Anora. His heart quickened at the sight of her.

  “I brought you something to eat,” she said with a smile. “You can’t keep skipping meals you know.” The light of the forge shone in her green eyes. They were sparkling emeralds. Her eyes always made him think of emeralds.

  “I haven’t been hungry,” Von lied. The smell of the food made his stomach growl.

  Anora giggled. “Your stomach disagrees with you,” she teased.

  Von went red. Suddenly he realized he didn’t have his shirt on. He grabbed it and quickly pulled it over his head. “I guess I could use something to eat,” he mumbled.

  “I thought I might eat lunch with you,” Anora announced. “May I?”

  Not waiting for an answer she seated herself at one of the work benches and spread out the meal. Lamb and flat bread, smoked cheese and berries, with a mild cider to drink. She looked up at him. “I haven’t seen much of you these past few days.”

  “Uh,” Von stammered, “I’ve been kind of busy.” He sat down across from her. His stomach growled again. “Smells good,” he said.

  Anora giggled again. “You better eat something before your stomach digests itself.” She fixed him a plate, then poured the cider.

  “Thank you,” Von said and began eating hungrily.

  He was no longer as comfortable around Anora as he’d once been. She was beautiful, and way out of his reach. A freed slave was not the kind of man she would want, or deserve. That wasn’t what he’d always been, but that’s what he was now. He said nothing for the same reason he’d never spoken once on the subject in eight years. Evenfelle was dead, gone, and many people in the north liked it that way. It wouldn’t be good to remind them constantly of where he’d come from, nor the circumstances of his arrival.

  He wondered if he was still
capable of living the quiet life of a blacksmith. He was once resigned to just that. So much had changed in the last few days, bringing back old memories and possibilities. Something else in his mind told him a quiet life wouldn’t be so bad. He didn’t need anything that wasn’t here, right now, in this forge.

  “What are you working on?” Anora asked. Her eyes never left her food. She was working herself up to something, Von could tell.

  “Oh, just more blades,” Von responded. “I hope to make enough money to have my own shop soon.” Von wished he had that back as soon as he had said it. Anora didn’t know he was already free.

  “What do you need your own shop for?” She asked. “You have this one.”

  “I mean eventually,” Von tried to recover, “you know, I can’t always rely on your father’s hospitality.”

  He did want his own shop, but not for the reasons she might think. He needed to discover the secret to the pattern he was working on . He was so close and... Realization hit him. The pattern on the blade was destroyed. That was the best word he could think of. Destroyed. He jumped up and plunged the knife into a barrel of water. It had already cooled too much, lost its temper. He could reheat it, re-temper it, but the metal was no longer alive. Not again. He sat down with a sigh.

  “What is wrong with my father’s hospitality?” Anora tried to tease, but hurt feelings showed through. “Is that what you want to be, a blacksmith?” Her questions were all over the place.

  Von didn’t know what to make of it. What had he said? What did he do? What was wrong with being a black smith?

  “I...” Von changed what he was going to say. “For awhile.” He knew he had nothing else to do but be a blacksmith, and nowhere else to go, at least for now.