Haven Keep (Book 1)

by R. David Bell

  Von slid from his horse to the hard stone floor beneath the walls of Haven Keep. Those walls rose sixty spans into the sky. The vyr could not get in. This place felt safe.

  “We are safe here,” the Halfen man spoke.

  All eyes turned to him.

  Kaiden spoke, “Your mind is free from the vyr?”

  “If that is what those creatures are, then yes.” The man sounded calm despite being hogtied across Kaiden’s saddle. “When we crossed the threshold of the keep their grip on my mind vanished. I don’t think their powers can penetrate these walls.”

  “I agree,” Soren said. “This place has the feel of peace to it.”

  “Haven Keep,” Von wondered aloud. “A fitting name.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Flenn hated the idea of leaving Baiden behind, but Baiden was in no condition to travel. Flenn knew Baiden was worse off than he pretended. The lord of Azmark always put on a strong front for his people, hiding his true concerns, striving to be a strength to those around him. This time he was too transparent to fool anyone. Baiden was gravely injured and in need of rest. Now it was Flenn’s responsibility to shoulder the burden Baiden always carried with effortless ease. At least it seemed effortless to Flenn. Baiden was still trying to assure everyone he was healthy, even though it was obvious he was not. Alensa and Oded spent the whole previous evening arguing with Baiden. He wouldn’t listen, protesting his confinement to bed until he finally passed out from exhaustion. He would heal completely within weeks, but there was still the danger of infection and he was in no condition to fight. Alensa told him he could get up when his fever broke, but Flenn was willing to bet as soon as he left the gates of Azmark Baiden had quit his sickbed. Baiden was not one to sit still while others were risking their lives. Flenn was confident Baiden was making preparations at home, whatever that might entail. Baiden would know what to do and how to go about it. Flenn just hoped Baiden didn’t kill himself in the process.

  Flenn’s problem was he had no clue what to do, let alone how to go about it. He was supposed to be leading this ragtag bunch of men, but he certainly didn’t feel qualified. He thought maybe Berkler should have been put in charge. Flenn could relinquish his duties, but that would just show weakness. Not something the Kailfen clan needed right now. At least Oded was with him. And Wellen, who had finally returned from his visits to the clan chiefs. Wellen’s council would be much appreciated, and much needed. So would Oded’s.

  Baiden gave Flenn his charge in the company of the lady Alensa and Berkler, then proceeded to finally tell him the truth about Von. Berkler was certainly surprised, but it was obvious Alensa had known for some time. Berkler took it all in stride and pledged his willingness to follow Baiden no matter what the clan chiefs thought about the heir of Evenfelle. If Berkler did have a dislike for Von did not let it show.

  It was clear Oded and Tostig were well aware of Von as well. Flenn thought those two must be anxious to meet Von, but they managed to keep their feelings hidden well. They certainly knew how to keep secrets close. Flenn looked forward to a private moment with Oded to speak with him about Von. There were too many prying eyes and ears around them now.

  The group Flenn lead to Stone Abbey was a much larger fighting force than before. Most had never seen a real fight, much less participated in one. Of course, neither had Flenn until two nights ago. He thought he’d seen a few fights before, but the battle with the Halfen disabused him of that idea. This group was young and inexperienced, much like himself. Flenn wanted to bring more, but Oded said it would leave Azmark vulnerable. Flenn saw that point, but not until Oded brought it up. That was only one reason Flenn didn’t believe he was the best man to lead. He only saw what needed done when someone else pointed it out. Oded or Berkler would do a much better job, only he was the one stuck with the responsibility.

  At least Flenn was able to bring a few good fighting men. There was Hal and Jared, Vason and Markus, to name just a few. Those that surprised him when they volunteered to come were the young men. Victor and Rames were barely starting their fifteenth winter. Even worse was Dell, Timm and Wendle were among the volunteers. They were still bond servants. In Flenn’s mind if Azmark was already relying on bond servants the situation was seriously out of hand. A more positive way to look at things was if there actually was any fighting it might mean those three earning their freedom. Or it could mean something much worse. They were just kids, but the clans were now at war. If Flenn could not convince the other clans to stand behind Baiden it would mean a long war amongst themselves. One that could prove the destruction of the north. If the clans did not stand united, the Black Horde would ride through the north unchallenged. There would be nothing to stop the slaughter.

  Flenn hoped the Halfen were lying when they claimed they had already won over two of the clans. If that was the case, he would just have to win them back. It was said the fate of kingdoms was decided at Stone Abbey. Maybe anciently that was true. Possibly it would prove true today too. Flenn just wished he was not the one who would have to do the convincing. If only the Halfen had not been at Stone Abbey for so many days already. Might as well wish on the Cleric’s Cup and expect all his harvest day dreams to come true. Who knew what lies the Halfen had already told, what seeds of destruction they had planted.

  Thankfully Flenn and his men hadn’t been attacked. Stone Abbey remained about two leagues away and they could still be assaulted, but that was unlikely this close to the meeting place. The risk of other clans finding out what truly happened would be too great. The other clans just might get involved in the fight too. That would not go well for the Halfen. Flenn was sure they hadn’t brought their whole army to Stone Abbey. That would be foolish, and extremely insulting. The other clans would see it as a show of force, an attempt to bully the others into submission. On the other hand, it did sound like something the Halfen might do. Until Flenn arrived at Stone Abbey, there was no way to know what he would encounter. Not knowing kept him playing out all the worst scenarios in his mind. He couldn’t let his fears get the best of him. The clans would stay loyal. They just had to.

  Flenn’s party had long since left behind the low plains used for grazing the flocks. They often passed farms and hay or barley fields. Those were becoming less common. The further they traveled from the farmlands, the thicker the forest became. The Halfen could hide easily in these trees. Even the larger farms became difficult to pick out through the dense forest. Every once in a while a plume of smoke from a chimney would give away the location of a farm. At least Flenn hoped it was just another farm.

  Flenn wondered how often these farmers saw other people. They lived so far away from the ports and the towns. They probably only made it to town once or twice a year to sell their crops and buy supplies. A simple life. One which Flenn might envy. The farmers had no concern over the fighting in the south or the treachery of the Halfen. At least not yet. Flenn knew there would be no way for these poor farmers and their families to remain unscathed once the true fighting broke out. It seemed unavoidable now. Hopefully many of them would choose to fight against the Halfen. If they chose the other way?

  Flenn tried to put that thought out of his mind. He needed to think positive. They could win this, and it would all start at Stone Abbey. He would convince the clan chiefs to stand behind Baiden. The rebellion would crumble and the Halfen would be brought to justice. If only it were that easy.

  The road narrowed and turned to mud. Not much use for a wider road around here. Not enough travelers came this way. Once this was supposed to be a great center of the north. The city of Olenek. Dwarfed only by the city of Azmark. Now Azmark was just a bustling town on the waters edge and all that was left of Olenek was Stone Abbey. Not even much of that remained.

  Stone Abbey should be over the next couple of hills. Flenn could feel the tension slowly loosen from his muscles the closer they came. An ambush now was very unlikely.

  The afternoon sun slowly made its way across the sky. It warmed the forest,
even melted some of the snow. This day felt more like it should have, the way an early autumn day should feel, not like the freezing cold days that dominated the previous weeks. Maybe winter would stay away a little longer.

  The trees were dense this close to Stone Abbey, but Flenn noticed the forest appeared much younger. There were not many towering oaks intermingled with the spruce and dogwood. This was where Olenek once stood. Over the years the forest filled in what was once fairly populated, but it was easy to see these trees were much newer. Many were still fifty to one-hundred years old, which seemed crazy to think of as young, but who knew how long a tree lived, or how ancient these forests actually were. Flenn wondered what these trees had seen. How many wars they had lived through? How long would they be here after he was gone?

  The trees finally opened into a clearing. There were men scattered everywhere. Some Flenn recognized. Most he did not. They were tending to cook fires and brushing horses. Some were still erecting makeshift camps. That was a good sign. It meant they hadn’t been here for too long. Of course most of the camps looked well lived in. That was not encouraging.

  Flenn led his group across the clearing toward Stone Abbey. There was an area near the entrance usually reserved for the Lord of the North. He was half surprised the Halfen hadn’t claimed it for their own. Maybe they hadn’t become so bold yet.

  Stone Abbey was less of an abbey and more of a hole in the ground. Flenn had been here once before, but he’d never actually been inside. The abbey was once a great shrine, a center for the archaic religion of the clerics, a way of life most in the north still believed in, but did not follow as closely as in days past. The clerics kept the traditions alive and provided valuable services to the clans, such as healing and medicines. What they hadn’t done was keep Stone Abbey from falling into decay.

  What was once a great structure was now crumbling walls around a foundation. Large grey stones lay scattered across the clearing, and closer to the foundation of the Abbey the stones sat in piles, the debris of an ancient ruin. The foundation and floor of the main shrine were still intact. Smoke rose up from the uneven remains of chimneys, evidence someone was already meeting in the abbey. Not so uncommon. Whenever the chiefs were together there was much to discuss and not all of it involved every clan.

  Some of the abbey walls were still intact. A few arches and flying buttresses remained, and a few openings that must have been windows. All sorts of forest vegetation grew on the stones, threatening to pull down the ancient masonry. Flenn didn’t feel comfortable standing too close to the walls, much less underneath the arches. He feared they would come crashing to the ground at any moment. How they’d stayed up for so long in this condition he didn’t know.

  Behind what was once the shrine’s alter was a large stone staircase leading downward. It was wide enough that four men on horse back could easily ride down side by side. At the foot of the stairs stood two huge black iron doors. They resembled gates to a castle more than doors to a basement. They were a greater wonder than the arches remaining intact. They should have rusted shut ages ago. Many claimed they were magical. Flenn couldn’t think of another explanation for their remarkable condition.

  Flenn dismounted and gave his horse’s reigns to Wendle. He straightened his coat and sword belt, then steeled himself for the inevitable conflict to come.

  “Are you ready for this?” Flenn turned to see Berkler at his side. He straightened his coat too. Flenn hoped Berkler was not as nervous as he was.

  “As ready as I ever will be.”

  Oded was at Flenn’s other side. “You will do well.” Flenn wished he could take Oded in with him. He must have had experience in this kind of thing. The other chiefs would not stand for it though. He and Berkler would have to do this on their own. The absence of Baiden may be enough to prove the Halfen’s treachery, but not if Ky had succeeded in poisoning the minds of the clan chiefs too far.

  Flenn took a deep breath and started down the stairs. Berkler followed close behind. Two guards stood at the doors. They were ceremonial more than anything. The two men looked curiously at Flenn and Berkler, but did not try to stop them. The doors swung easily open to the inside. Flenn felt a little relief they had not been barred.

  Stone Abbey was lit with torches and the glow of fireplaces along the cold grey stone walls. The men inside, a near complete collection of the rulers of the North, resembled battle worn warriors more than they did noblemen. Not as regal as the councils of the old empire must have looked.

  The men were seated at a solid oak table large enough for three times their number. There were no other furnishings. The men gathered at the far end of the room near the head of the table, but most of them left a chair or two between each clan. Not exactly a cozy meeting.

  Flenn first noticed Leofric, a short stocky man, chief of the Hywel, the master traders. The Halfen claimed to be the richest clan, but Flenn was sure the Hywel had more gold than any two clans put together. Their exact wealth was kept closely guarded. The grey of Leofric’s beard showed his years. His councilors Rhodri, Ethelred, and Coel were with him.

  Next to the Hywel were the Kragen. Chief Bethoc possessed dark brown, almost black hair. Not very common to the north. He was tall and broad, like most of the men in here. Sigmund, Ulf and Gunnar were at his side. They were master carpenters, most famed for their ships. Many claimed they could still build ships to rival the dragon lords of old. Their leathery skin was evidence of years at sea.

  The Orlenc clan was across from the Kragen. Lowerth was said to be the greatest horseman alive. Flenn thought that was more likely a title passed down from chief to chief. Still, his horsemanship was famed throughout more than just the north. The rest of the clan’s reputation was not far behind Lowerth’s. Their horses were prized above all others in the north and were still in high demand as far away as the Gothen Ilse. Flenn did not recognize his councilors, but knew them by name. Amas, Morleo and Domelech.

  The Whaleren Clan appeared the most comfortable. Rhulet ruled with an iron fist. His light hair contrasted with his dark features and personality. If the Halfen had won over any clans yet, Flenn would bet the Whaleren were the first to turn. Master stonemasons, they had the closest relationship to the Halfen, who themselves had worked the mines of the Black Mountains for generations. Rhulet’s councilors Tudor and Cywrig were familiar faces. The other man Flenn had never seen before. He must be Nurr.

  The Halfen placed themselves at the head of the table. There was plenty of room for Flenn and Berkler to sit at the head as well, but it was clear Ky had not expected their arrival. Whatever conversation had been going on stopped when Flenn and Berkler entered the room. Flenn did not know the two large men at Ky’s left. The man at his right Flenn would never forget. He dwarfed everyone else in the room. Jubben sat silently, studying Flenn and Berkler as they entered.

  “I see you have started without us,” Flenn observed.

  Ky stood, his famous temper barely under control. “Where is Baiden?”

  “He is recovering from wounds inflicted upon him by your traitorous men, which in case you were wondering are all dead.”

  “You lie!” Ky nearly spit as he screamed the words. Flenn was not sure if Ky did not believe his men were dead or if he was making an attempt to hide his treachery.

  “Do I?”

  Flenn sat at the foot of the table, far from the other men. Berkler stood behind him. Flenn smiled. Berkler saw the same opportunity Flenn had. All sat at the meetings of the clan chiefs except the councilors to the Lord of the North. They stood behind him in silence as an honor guard. The other chiefs were to act as his councilors, and he to make the final decision. By sitting at the far end of the table Flenn had essentially changed the orientation of the room. The foot of the table was now the head. He acted for Baiden here and he would take the lead of the meeting.

  “Are you telling me those men acted on their own, wounding Baiden and killing Jeret and all his councilors? Or are you just angry they did not bring Baide
n here in chains to answer to your false claims?”

  “My claims are not false.”

  “Your claims are as false as you are, Ky.”

  “You claim Jeret is dead?” Lowerth did not sound pleased. The rest of the room sat in silence, waiting for an answer.

  “Ky sent twenty-one armed men to arrest Baiden on false charges. Jeret and his men fought in his defense. They gave their lives for their lord.”

  “Lies!” Ky went for his sword, but Jubben put a gentle hand on his arm. If that man could be called gentle.

  “It is good your men are not as hot tempered as you.” Flenn was pleased Ky had become angry so quickly. He would not be as convincing if he was kept in a rage. “By the time this meeting is done I plan to have you arrested for treason. We will give you a fair trial. If it is proven your men acted on their own your life may not yet be forfeit. When Dethan arrives he will back my word.”

  “You claim me a traitor?!”

  Jubben tried to pull Ky down to his seat. He knew this was not going well for them.

  “Baiden assassinated Cray, killed my messengers sent to him. Jubben barely escaped with his life.”