A Whisper After Midnight (31 page)

“More than I, no doubt,” Bahr half joked. “We’ve sacrificed much already. Finding Venheim was a stroke of luck, or mad genius. I’m still not sure. Folk believe the Giants don’t exist anymore either. That’s the one fact that gives me hope in finding Trennaron.”

That was enough for Faeldrin. “My Aeldruin will escort you to the Fern River and help secure passage south. Know this, the river is not safe. Bandits and highwaymen rove the water and shores. We suspect they come from the edges of the Graven Forest, just east of the river but haven’t been able to confirm this.”

“Bandits would almost be welcome after all we’ve been through. Thank you, Faeldrin. Your assistance will be greatly appreciated,” Bahr bowed.

“That’s settled,” Thord proclaimed. “Enough serious talk. Now is the hour to drink and make merry. A great battle has been won and my Dwarves deserve every hangover they wake up with. Come, friends, drink!”

Maleela watched and listened to the festivities with great interest. She’d never seen anything so grand or entertaining. The depth of Dwarven culture left her stunned and somewhat hollow. Nothing in Delranan compared with any of what she’d seen since arriving in Drimmen Delf. The thought of staying amused her even though she knew the invitation would never come. Humans were strangers, unwelcome except in the direst circumstance. Maleela would find no warmth under the mountains once the aftermath of the war settled.

“You look troubled.”

Bracing herself, she turned and offered her best smile to Anienam. “Restless perhaps. It doesn’t feel right being underground for so long, even in a place as nice as Drimmen Delf.”

“The mountain kingdoms have certain charm to them but we are people used to blue skies and fresh air,” the wizard smiled. “I must confess, quietly of course, that I find the halls of this place confining as well. Just don’t tell a Dwarf.”

“My lips are sealed,” Maleela replied.

“There is more on your mind. Tell me, child.”

Maleela wasn’t sure that was such a good idea. She enjoyed Anienam’s company and conversation but didn’t trust him the way she did Bahr or even Skuld. The wizard wasn’t as straightforward as he tried to appear. Every action and comment had a hidden agenda with motives visible behind his eyes. The old Man struggled with too much guilt even though he wasn’t about to share with mere mortals. Mortals he had no problem using to achieve his goals.

“I miss Aurec,” she said finally. While that was true, she hadn’t thought about it for weeks. Aurec was her life but thinking about him hurt too much so she forced him out, pushing his image into the cold recesses of winter. She steeled her resolve and focused on getting the Blud Hamr and ending the threat of the dark gods. Once that was ended she and Aurec would be able to continue, picking up their lives where they’d been rudely interrupted by her father’s campaign.

“Love is a fickle desire, though I confess to having never met him. One moment love is white hot, so much so that we cannot go near it and the next it can be colder than the deepest winter night. It’s funny, but I don’t think I’ve ever truly been in love.”

Maleela cocked her head. “How can you have lived for hundreds of years without knowing what it is to love?”

“I didn’t say I don’t know love just that I’ve never been in love. Wizards and Mages are no different from everyone else. Much of the old orders were married and had families. Personally I have found a great love for the purity of nature. There is unmatched serenity to the breaking dawn or setting sun.”

Anienam fell silent, lost in private reflection, regret. Too many times he’d awoken only to discover he’d missed more of life. Too many nights were spent hunting down wicked creatures or defending innocent lives; innocent being relative. There wasn’t much left in the world that hadn’t been corrupted in one way or another. He often caught himself daydreaming of what life must have been like before the bad times, or even if there was such a time. Mankind seemed destined to suffer.

“So you have never known a touch?” she asked timidly.

A sudden twinkle lit his eyes up. “Some things must remain secret.”

She shared his laugh before her thoughts turned serious again. “Do you think he is all right? I try to think of something else but his face returns every time I close my eyes. It hurts too much to continue.”

“Missing the ones we love is natural, Maleela. I would like to think he is well, but wouldn’t be so callous as to guess for the sake of cheering you up,” Anienam replied solemnly. “Aurec is young and strong, an heir to a kingdom. He will come through the dark times and you shall sit to his right.” He smiled. “A proper queen for better times.”

I hope so. No god, light or dark, will save the people responsible for harming a hair on his head. I shall be a queen. A queen of vengeance and justice
. Maleela savored the thought of putting her father to the spear while the celebration raged around her.

Departing Drimmen Delf

Winter somehow got colder while they were inside the warm halls of Drimmen Delf. Dwarven hospitality went above all of their expectations, making it difficult to leave. But leave they must. The band of adventurers loaded their wagon, sheathed refurbished weapons, and drew their cloaks tight as they marched with heavy hearts down onto the main thoroughfare running down the middle of the Dwarf kingdom.

Dwarves lined the way, some coming just to see the Giant. Others showing appreciation for what Bahr and his group did for the Dwarves. Winter flowers were laid on the road. Children waved and ran in between the horses. An honor guard awaited them the closer they got to the exit. Resplendent in their silver armor, the Dwarves snapped to attention and presented salutes with long, freshly crafted pikes. Bahr couldn’t help but feel pride in the amount of effort Thord had gone through for them.

Only it wasn’t Thord. The Dwarf Lord and his delegation had already moved back to Bode Hill to oversee clean-up operations in the valley. It was Captain Ironfoot who stood at the head of the honor guard. The grizzled Dwarf was cleaned up and, not quite sober, patched up by the surgeons. His beard was plaited with bones and silver. Each one a mark of honor from different actions against enemies of Drimmen Delf. He stepped down from the raised walkways lining the road and bowed deeply as Bahr halted his group.

“Lord Bahr, I have been given the honor of escorting you to Bode Hill,” Ironfoot announced. The pride in his voice echoed like thunder in the cavernous opening.

“Did he just call Bahr a lord?” Dorl asked Nothol quietly.

Nothol concealed a wry grin. “Sounded like it. Maybe he knows something the rest of us don’t. Now I feel like being all proper.”

“You’ve never been proper a day in your life,” Dorl chided.

“The potential end of the world seems like a good time to begin.”

Bahr heard every word of the exchange but chose to ignore them. Dorl and Nothol had their uses. He could add comic relief to that list. Instead he returned Ironfoot’s bow, somewhat awkwardly. “Captain, the honor is ours. I welcome your company.”

Enough said, Ironfoot nodded sharply and spun about. “Detail! Center, march!”

The Dwarves moved as one. Their booted feet marched in unison down the corridor towards the massive eastern doors of Drimmen Delf. Soldiers who managed to drag themselves up from where they’d passed out gathered in knots by the gates. They broke into raucous cheers as Groge came into view. The noise became so intense Bahr felt certain the ceiling was going to collapse on their heads.

A score of Dwarves rushed out of the crowds to man the doors. Each door stood twenty feet high and was three feet thick. Carved from ancient oak trees, the doors had stood for hundreds of years and had never been breached. They took ten Dwarves and a series of elaborate pulleys to open fully, an endeavor the Dwarves struggled with now. Scenes of battles and revered Dwarf heroes were intricately carved into the doors and buffed to a fine polish. Each door was testament to the ancient history of Drimmen Delf and went unrivaled by any of the northern kingdoms.

Snow blasted in, driven by harsh winds. What little sunlight that managed to pierce the endless veil of drab clouds gave the ground a haunted look. Perhaps it was merely the pristine snow drifts marred only by the dulled brown tree trunks. Bahr knew that further down the valley was an entire forest of pines. He tried to peer through the steadily opening doors to see what the valley looked like in the daylight.

The low whistle behind him caused him to turn. “Everything all right, Groge?”

The Giant grinned like a love-struck teen. “I’ve never seen anything so detailed. So impressive. It is a great honor to bear witness to such artistry.”

Bahr didn’t understand Groge’s awe. Having been to Venheim, Bahr couldn’t see anything in Drimmen Delf worthy of the Giant’s adoration. The Forge of Giants was legendary and held many treasures and more in the warm stone buildings and forges. Not that the Dwarf kingdom didn’t hold equal wonders. But he was a Man and unused to seeing such attention to detail in buildings. Delranan certainly lacked anything resembling grandeur compared to these two great kingdoms.

“They certainly know how to make doors,” Bahr replied.
Not that I know much about the subject or really care
.

His thoughts were already beyond the mountain kingdom and stretching towards what was coming. He’d been a seafaring man for most of his life. The lure of the ocean called him from an early age. Being so far inland made him uneasy. Combined with him never having been east of the Kergland Spine before and he was out of his element. Bahr knew he’d have to rely more heavily on Boen and Anienam to keep pace with the approaching storm. He spent most of the recovery day pouring over maps, trying to memorize major terrain features. Distances. Which kingdom came next. Who was considered hostile or friendly. He quickly found himself overwhelmed by it all.

Groge tapped him gently on the shoulder, but still hard enough to make Bahr cough. By the time the doors were completely open the pain was mostly gone. Bahr still shrugged his shoulder though. The horses pranced nervously. They wanted to be in the open almost as badly as Bahr did. He slid his hand down the horse’s neck. “I know, boy. I know. We’ll be free again soon enough.”

Snorting, the horse tossed its head back. Ironfoot led the procession through the gates. One hundred Dwarves stepped off on their left foot and marched in cadence down the snow-covered road leading into the valley. The cold breeze stung Bahr’s face and it felt good. He closed his eyes briefly to enjoy the touch of daylight. The stern glares of half a dozen statues lining the road looked down on him. Dwarf kings all, each statue spoke of an important era in Drimmen Delf’s history. Each bore a massive double-headed axe. Their faces were partially concealed behind helmets. Standing thirty feet high, the statues were carved from giant blocks of marble mined from the southern end of the Kergland Spine. They commemorated the passing of the great Dwarf kings. One day Thord hoped to have his own.

“It feels good to be back in the open,” Skuld told Maleela from his seat on the wagon bench.

He and Anienam drove the heavily laden wagon with Rekka and Dorl riding in the back. Their wounds were still severe enough to keep them out of action for the time being. Everyone else walked. Halfway up the mountain they couldn’t smell the rot from the battlefield. Bahr turned his head in that direction anyway. The sky was dark with thousands of carrion birds. Smoke still billowed into the sky. Huge piles of wreckage already gathered were being burned. Everything salvageable had already been taken back to the mountains. The Dwarves were fastidious and thorough. More than half of the field was already cleared.

“It’s as if the battle never happened,” Bahr whispered.

Boen grunted. “Proficient aren’t they? Makes Gaimosians look lazy.”

“Not the word I’d choose to describe your people, Boen.”

He chuckled. “I’ve been called much worse, though it didn’t turn out well for the one that said it.”

“How long do you think it will take to load the boats? As much as I appreciate Dwarven hospitality I have this pressing feeling in the back of my mind. Time is against us.”

The Gaimosian didn’t much care for the sudden change in conversation. More and more his thoughts turned against the tiny band, of returning to his roots and wandering the southern kingdoms alone. He wasn’t cut out for working with large groups. Too many personalities and opinions for him. Boen enjoyed the quiet solitude of endless leagues of open plains, campsites by a small fire, and bathing in streams. Humanity tended to cluster so close they stifled each other. His natural distrust in society stemmed from generations of atoning for the sins of their fathers. Gaimosians were a hated breed, only thought highly of in martial matters.

He got along with Bahr and most of the others well enough but felt like he was missing a large part of himself. The raid on the Black Hammer Dwarves allowed him the opportunity to unleash his inner rage and sate the need for battle. Boen strode through the Dwarves like an avenging god and it still wasn’t enough. He felt as if he was slowly fading the longer he stayed part of the group.

Bahr’s concerns only made matters worse. The Sea Wolf was used to getting his way, but that was on a wooden deck with a boat and crew under his feet. Boen didn’t enjoy being told what to do. Never had. He and Bahr worked well together but so much time solely in small company drove him past frustration. He needed to be free again. It was the only way to soothe his frayed nerves.