Haven Keep (Book 1)

by R. David Bell

  Von was no longer visible, but there was still time to catch him, convince him to come home with them. He was not alone, he had family, he always did. Now he knew his brother still lived and he had a sister by marriage, one he obviously loved, and his nephews would need their uncle. Alensa stared at the trees, hoping to get a glimpse of Von, hoping she would see him returning, but she knew he would not. Did everyone else not see that he wasn’t coming back? Could they not see he didn’t just want to be alone, but that he truly was leaving?

  “Baiden,” Alensa begged, “you must go after him. He needs us. Now more than ever.”

  “He will be okay, my love.” Baiden sounded so sure of himself. “He will come back when he is ready.”

  Her husband was wrong. Alensa knew it. She raised Von as her own, saw him grow into maturity. He was often overcome by melancholy moods and was known to spend long hours brooding, but this was worse than she had ever seen. Von’s heart had taken too much sorrow in his short life and he let it become hard, allowing no one inside, no one to share his feelings. His heart was like a flint, only she knew there was still a softness deep inside, or at least there once was. What was left of his heart was finally broken. Alensa hoped that seeing Elizbet would start the healing process Von refused to let take place. A process that should have started so many years ago, but now she feared his reunion with Elizbet had softened his heart just enough to allow it to be crushed.

  Tears filled Alensa’a eyes and she avoided looking at her daughter. “He is gone, my husband, and you let him go.” She turned her horse and started the slow ride back to Azmark.

  * * *

  “The boy is impetuous,” Berkler spoke the words aloud though there was no one around to hear them. He had disappeared into the hills days ago and with him secrets that where lost for generations. Berkler knew Von somehow rediscovered them, but he would still need guidance, need the help of a master. Von still did not know everything there was about being a master blacksmith. For generations the secrets were passed from master to pupil and now only three men, himself one of them, knew of those secrets. Many of those secrets were still taught to every apprentice, but not all. Only the ones who showed the skill and aptitude as well as the desire were given the further knowledge. Von was one of those pupils, only he pressed forward and learned faster than Berkler thought was right. How could he guide him if he went off wildly on his own?

  Berkler suspected Von had accomplished something that had not been done for thousands of years. Somehow Von had rediscovered dragon steel, a secret even he, Sem and Tyree no longer knew. Now Von could become dangerous, to himself and to others. If his heart was flawed, the weapon he made could be too. Not exactly flawed, but filled with the same feelings and desires its maker was possessed of when the sword was forged.

  Berkler’s excitement at the possibility of forging a blade with dragon steel was tempered by his apprehension for what Von may do. He needed guidance, protection from himself. Baiden did not understand this, how could he? Baiden had no way of knowing what Von was dabbling with and Berkler never thought Von would actually be successful. There was a possibility the sword Von wielded had come from Haven keep, but too many people told the same story, that Von spent nearly four straight days locked in the forge with Corren and when he emerged he possessed the sword he now wore at his hip. Berkler longed to hold that sword, to examine it, to confirm what he already knew for near certain.

  Berkler could help Von, only Von would refuse his help. Von was only interested in weapons and armor, implements for war, but the Dragon Lords used dragon steel for far more than just warfare. If Von would only let him, the two of them could usher in a new age. They could pool their knowledge as well as the knowledge Sem and Tyree held and create wonders men now considered fables. Many in Asmark would think Berkler crazy, but they did not know what he did. How could they?

  Berkler saddled his horse. He must find Von before he got himself killed or worse.

  * * *

  Two days had passed and still no word of Von. Kaiden wondered if he would ever see his brother again. He did not care what others thought, to him Von would always be his brother, and his lord too. Kaiden felt the palm of his hand where Von’s knife had sliced. It was nearly healed now, but would leave a scar, something permanent to remind him of the oath he swore. He meant that oath when he swore it and he meant it now. He needed to know where Von was, needed to know he was okay. He still felt a connection to Von, something special that enveloped him as he swore to be Von’s hand. It was different now. Before it was invigorating, full of life, permeating energy. Now it was dull and raw, a blinding mist of throbbing pain. Was this what Von felt?

  Yaris was in an even worse state than Kaiden. He seemed to think all of Azmark would soon turn against him without Von here to protect him. Kaiden was not so sure that wasn’t the truth. The mood of Azmark was dark and not helped by the low spirits of its lord, who refused to be comforted. Kaiden’s mother was even worse. Von was gone, maybe for good. Kaiden wished he knew how to bring him back.

  Anora was gone too, back to Delpher with her new husband. Kaiden wished her well, but knew she blamed herself for at least part of what happened. Kaiden wanted her to be happy and knew Dethan could make her so. He would be an excellent husband and also a good brother. This should be a time of rejoicing, but it was not. This week was one of mourning as funeral pyres burned constantly without the city walls. The dark sickly smell of smoke helped to keep the mood of Azmark grim.

  One thing would help to lift the spirits of the residents of the north, but Kaiden had little faith it would happen. He should never have let Von leave on his own.

  * * *

  Despite his wife crying on his shoulder, Domnal could hardly contain his joy. His brother was alive! Beovon was alive! Not only that, he revealed to Bet the hiding place of Durendal. With that weapon they would be able to stand against the Horde. With his brother at his side he would finally be able to find the courage to lead these men that had followed him for so long.

  The men really followed Oded, and Oded refused to see that, always trying to convince Domnal to take command, but Domnal knew in his heart he had lost hope and so was not fit. Von being alive changed everything. His heart swelled within his chest, a new awakening of life. He and Von would restore the kingdom of Evenfelle, restore peace to his homeland. His new allies in the north would make it all the more possible. The Horde would never see it coming.

  * * *

  The farm burned behind him, but Von did not look back. He never looked back anymore. Instead his eyes focused on what lay ahead. He topped the rise of the hill just after twilight, Isk and Jenn healing after him. They did feel like shadows now. In the darkness Von could understand why some thought these dogs were demon hounds from the Rift. He wondered what they thought he was. He had seen the Rift, at least the edge of it, below Haven Keep. The demons in that dark abyss would flee before him if they knew he was coming, knew the coldness inside of him. He would again go to the Rift, Brimstone was waiting there for him. He no longer feared the vyr. He would teach them to fear him, but first there were a few other things to take care of. He reigned his horse in, pausing at the top of the hill, the forest split before him opening to a small valley. He gazed down to where the two roads crossed and saw below him the walled town of Pontry.

  * * *

  Ky was a fool! Jubben was almost as bad. Cannon did not understand why he ever let himself listen to the two of them. That night he put his dagger in the ribs of Smen sealed him to Ky and now to Jubben. Those two had caused the downfall of the Halfen people. It was only a matter of time now before the final destruction. It was already begun and Cannon could see no way to stop it. Their might and strength was gone, taken from them in one night. More stragglers continued to join them, but the army was destroyed. Their only hope now was to gather as much strength as they could from those who survived the slaughter and make their way back home.

  Nearly two thousand already followed Jubben. There
would still be some strength to defend their homelands, but there was a mountain range between them and their home and an army was following close behind.

  Cannon did not care who else survived. He would, and he would see to it that the debacle Ky caused would not keep him from what he wanted. He did not need to rule the north, at least not in name. He could wait in the background. Power and riches could be his without the titles Ky craved so much. If the titles came, so be it, but Cannon was witness to what that had done to Ky. It would not happen to him.

  The Halfen that remained moved as quickly as they could through the rough terrain, hampered even more by the snow. Cannon took comfort in knowing the same things would hamper the pursuing army. Night was fast coming on them and Cannon finally spoke to Jubben.

  “We cannot travel much further in the dark. If we rest we will travel faster on the morrow.”

  Jubben nodded. “We can rest here, but we leave at first light. There is an evil feel about this place and I am anxious to get home. There is someone waiting there who will be very interested in what happened to our army.”

  Cannon held his tongue. Not only were over half the fighting men of the Halfen dead, leaving them very vulnerable, Ky and Jubben had now tied them in with the Horde. Cannon did not think their new master would be quite as forgiving as Ky believed and Ky was now most assuredly dead, leaving Cannon as one of those who would take the blame. If Jubben thought the Demon Mage did not consider himself their new master he was sorely mistaken. Ky was a fool to have sunk his people into this. Cannon did not think he could get them out. It would take generations and Cannon did not have that long. His people could die for all he cared, as long as he still achieved what he wanted.

  One thing Cannon did believe Jubben was right about was the feel of this place. An unnatural wind had picked up, howling through the trees. A bad omen.

  * * *

  Zoroth had waited a long time, he could wait longer. Those around him thought he was an impatient man. Nothing could be further from the truth. He had already waited for far longer than these puny men could hope to fathom. To him the lives of normal men were as insects. Those who followed him knew he was old, but they possessed no inkling of the truth. His own master had been disciple to an ancient sorcerer. A sorcerer who in turn was apprentice to the man who first invaded this land. Zoroth wondered if that primordial mage could actually be called a man. That being was an arcane wizard, steeped in the knowledge of the hidden arts. That being's thirst for more knowledge and power drove him to these lands, only to be defeated by Elrec and his brother Sjorvek. Those two thought of themselves as Dragon Lords, but if they only knew the true power they could have wielded Zoroth would not be here now. His order would have been destroyed, replaced by one more powerful.

  That was the reason Zoroth now came to this land. Evenfelle was weak, easily defeated. If he had known how easily it would fall he would have come here generations ago. He only waited so long because the Rift had only recently begun to stir. Those fools in the north thought the vyr were the worst to fear. He would awaken greater horrors from the bowels of the Rift to serve his purposes. There were no Dragon Lords to stop him this time and the one thing he did fear he now knew was lost. Why else had they not yet tried to use it against him? Durendal was lost in the depths of the sea and with it all the hopes of those that opposed him. Nothing now stood in the way of him and true power. That army in the north could be easily swept aside, despite recent events.

  Ky was an incompetent man. If he was not already dead, Zoroth would see to it that he soon would be. That debacle in the north could still be turned to his advantage. Those foolish enough to still struggle against him would soon learn why men named him the Demon Mage.