Empire of Bones (29 page)

“You mean to travel with us and fight at our side?” Bahr asked. Loath as he was to seek counsel from another wizard, he was forced to admit they needed every advantage they could get their hands on. He liked the strength and diversity of quality in their little group but with each strength came a weakness.

Groge was unquestionably their greatest asset but he seemed mired in a downward spiral of self-hate after fighting in the jungle. Boen was capable of flying off the handle at the drop of a sword. Dorl was so smitten with Rekka his inattentiveness threatened to get one of them killed. The list went on. His own misery felt the worst. All of his thoughts centered on getting Maleela back. Nothing else really mattered.

Artiss offered a sympathetic look while shaking his head. “I cannot leave Trennaron. Any attempt to leave would open the gates for evil. I am the chosen Guardian of this wondrous place. For me to leave is almost instant death. I am so old that I would crumble away to dust if I left now.”

“I thought you were immortal.”

“Not even the gods are immortal,” Artiss replied. He grinned at the shock on Bahr’s face. “Yes, even gods die. All it takes is for us to stop believing.”

“If it’s that easy why are the dark gods still lurking in the background?”

Artiss nodded his approval.
This Man is sharper than I imagined. Perhaps there is hope for the world after all. If only his brother had been able to look beyond the borders of his greed and seen the kingdom needed him more than they needed a war we might not be in this sad state of affairs.

“You are correct, Bahr, but it is not that simple. The dark gods are largely irrelevant to a great portion of Malweir’s population. Whispered names no longer important. Those few of us who remember are mocked for petty indulgences of the past. Very few people are willing to look back in order to see where they are going. Banishment reduced the influence of the dark gods, but didn’t kill them. People didn’t stop believing, they just forgot. The differences are subtle, imperceptible to the untrained eye, but very large in the grand scheme of how the universe works. So long as they remain forgotten they have power.”

“And the Dae’shan seek to capitalize that power. Why?” Bahr asked after reasoning the inevitable conclusion.

“When you’ve lived for millennia there is a decided dearth of new things to do,” Artiss replied flatly. He turned back to Anienam. “The Mages were a whim. A minor plaything the Dae’shan used to study the races, searching out their weakness and strength. I’m sorry to say but your adopted father was merely a pawn in this great game. The crystal of Tol Shere was their idea. My brothers corrupted your kind and brought about the singular most destructive war in the history of the world.”

“That was over a thousand years ago, what more could they hope to achieve in the same scenario?” Anienam asked. His insult went unspoken. The Mages were responsible for a great many sins carried out on the world. Knowing the Dae’shan used them like children’s toys did little to assuage the guilt of association.

“I find myself suddenly lacking the desire to carry on. What’s the point? It all seems like an inescapable cycle we are doomed to repeat. Perhaps letting the dark gods win will change it up,” Anienam said in defeat.

Bahr couldn’t believe his ears. The one constant during their quest had been the enigmatic wizard. He always saw the positive when the others could see only darkness. Anienam Keiss wasn’t well thought of among the others, nor was he despised the way Ionascu had been. They quickly learned he wasn’t going to give a straight answer while constantly guiding them in the right direction. He’d gotten them to Trennaron only to abandon his own ideals.

Bahr didn’t like the thought of his greatest magical asset giving up. “I think you need to get some rest. I’ve never heard you speak like this, Anienam.”

“Bahr is right. You of all people need to retain your faith,” Artiss seconded quickly.

Anienam grinned sheepishly. “Why? You said it yourself there is little point to this grand cosmic game. I’m beginning to think all of the gods would best be left to die in the cold imprisonment of the night skies. We don’t need them meddling in our lives.”

“The gods of light share your point of view,” Artiss said.

Both Men looked up sharply. Bahr replied first. “Explain that. If the gods of light aren’t going to interfere, what chance of victory is there?”

“The gods of light spent millions of years watching life develop on Malweir. What started as the smallest organisms grew into what we are now. They studied everything as it developed, content in their accumulation of knowledge. Only when the dark gods took interest in ruining all they’d accomplished did the gods of light become active. Their wars raged down through the centuries until they were finally able to gain the upper hand and banish their errant brothers. With the dark gods effectively cut off from Malweir, the gods of light decided it was time to abandon this world. It was time for Men to rule.”

“We haven’t done that great of a job,” Bahr said.

“No, but what can be done has been. The races of Malweir have all surpassed the expectations of the gods. I think they’d be proud of all our accomplishments,” Artiss said fondly. He noticed the confusion twisting Anienam’s face. “You are troubled?”

“Deeply,” Anienam admitted after taking some time to straighten out his thoughts. “There is a central theme to all of this, Artiss. Brothers. Why brothers? The gods. You and the Dae’shan. Bahr and Badron. What makes brothers so important?”

“I was wondering when one of you was going to string it all together. The brotherhood issue is a metaphor for the dichotomy between good and evil. Always two sides to each argument. Neither can function without the other to counterbalance it. Each time good or evil gains the upper hand the other faction mysteriously comes back to disrupt the flow of power. It has been this way since the dawn of creation. Balance is the key to all life, no matter how large or small. Without it we would all crumble to dust and fade away from the heat of our own fires.”

Bahr yawned and stretched legs. His face was shadowed with thought. “None of what you said bodes well for us, Artiss. You offer aid but say you can’t leave Trennaron. What chance do a handful of mortals have against all that’s lined against us?”

“Chance is often a matter of whim. When there is a will there is the inert possibility of success,” Artiss replied. “Don’t be so quick to abandon your inner strength, Bahr. You have been given all of the tools necessary to combat the rising tide of evil. All but one.”

“The Hamr.”

Artiss nodded. “Yes. The Blud Hamr. I shall take you to it in the morning. My attendants will see you to your rooms. Your journey has been long and arduous. Take comfort in these walls. No evil will befall you here. Eat and rest. You have come far but the journey back will take more of a toll than you can possibly imagine. Good night.”

Bahr and Anienam rose and headed back towards the dining hall with much to think on and heavily troubled hearts. The look into their pasts would haunt them for many nights to come.

Blud Hamr

The view from the top of Trennaron’s walls was her favorite in all Malweir. Rekka tilted her head back and enjoyed the cool predawn breeze tickling her neck. This time of day left her feeling calm. A moment when she was able to push aside all of the darkness and focus on her core being. Her inner turmoil bled away with the song of a hundred species of jungle birds. She smiled, genuinely for the first time since realizing the strength of her love for Dorl. Such tender moments were irreplaceable and came only once in a lifetime.

“I surmised you’d be up here,” Artiss called from behind. “You always did enjoy watching the sunrise.”

Rekka turned and bowed, slightly embarrassed she failed to notice his approach.

The surprise in her eyes lightened his mood. She claimed they’d only seen each other a handful of times when in fact he had watched her from the moment she first arrived. Artiss Gran was the master of Trennaron. All that happened within the walls were known to him. They may not have interacted physically but he knew all there was to know about her, more than she did.

Of course Rekka had no knowledge of this. She often suspected he watched but had no evidence. Sworn to defend the last loyal Dae’shan and the secrets of Trennaron, Rekka meant to give her life should it become necessary. Whatever Artiss Gran did was his own business. She performed her duties to the best of her abilities without concern for what the master of the castle did. Such honor demanded strict adherence.

“Relax, Rekka Jel. I didn’t come here to criticize you,” he said softly. “It is a marvelous view, is it not?”

“The finest I’ve seen in all of my travels,” Rekka agreed.

Artiss smiled in a fatherly way. “Much majesty remains in Malweir if only we know where to seek it. I trust you’ve taken adequate opportunity to observe our heroes?”

She nodded. “Yes. They are an interesting bunch.”

“I’d like your report now,” he told her. The fact she’d been sent to not only bring these specific individuals back to Trennaron but to spy on them as well wasn’t lost on her. Rekka knew her task and performed it with flawlessness.

“Their diversity gives them great strength though they remain hindered by personal demons and moments of intense insecurity. Their dynamic has great potential for success if only they can overcome their individual differences. Bahr is the strongest. His fire burns brighter than any of the rest. What he lacks is purpose. Until now he’s merely gone along with the quest, keeping his personal beliefs private. Losing Maleela hurt him. It spurned him into action against our enemies. I don’t know if it will be enough to keep him steady through the end.”

“His niece is perhaps one of the most important pieces in this puzzle,” Artiss said. “Should she turn against the light we will lose Malweir.”

“We do not know where she was taken,” Rekka told him.

“More than likely to Arlevon Gale. The Dae’shan will seek to turn her against us, thus permanently severing the family link and uniting father and daughter in dark cause. Bahr must be watched and kept on purpose. What of the others?”

“Boen is a wild factor. He has the strength necessary to survive the final battle but the propensity to fly off on a vengeful tangent. Bahr keeps him in check but I don’t know for how much longer. This quest is taking him back to his primal instincts. He could jeopardize our successes. The sell swords are steady, capable Men we can rely on.”

“Is your relationship with Dorl Theed going to prove problematic?” he interrupted.

Rekka swallowed quickly. “No, Master.”

“Good. This is one of those times when we all must look beyond our base desires and put the needs of the world ahead of our own. Forgive my interruption, please continue.”

“The boy Skuld confuses me. He has the potential to become a Mage but the heart of a warrior. Thankfully he’s lost the edge Boen inspired in the beginning of the quest. I’m not sure what he will be. Captain Ironfoot borders on bestial. He is a pure warrior who brings the unique knowledge and point of view of the Dwarves. Groge is the least reliable. He is the only one capable of wielding the Blud Hamr but has no will whatsoever of engaging in combat. He wallows in grief after defending us from the Gnaals.”

“Perhaps he is right to do so,” Artiss added. “The Giants long ago abandoned violence. Some claim their race has improved for it, others deem them lesser for their convictions. Regardless, only Groge has the ability to wield the hammer. He must be made to understand his importance. The Olagath Stone can only be broken by the Blud Hamr. Convince him, Rekka. We need him to overcome his limitations for the greater good.”

She nodded. “That brings me to the wizard, Anienam Keiss.”

He held up a hand to stop her. “We don’t need to discuss him. I already know his fate and it is not one I choose to share. Anienam will do his part for the good of all races. Of that I have no doubts.”

Rekka accepted the comment for what it was though she began to question his motivations. Artiss Gran was all-knowing, or so she’d always assumed. His many secrets translated into all of their lives. She normally had no qualms with this. Riddles were part of the way of life in Trennaron and she’d been forced to grow accustomed to it in order to stay ahead of her commands. That didn’t alleviate her rising concerns over what was going to happen to the wizard. Rekka admitted she was rather fond of the eccentric old Man. The thought of ill befalling him worried her gravely.

Artiss waved dismissively. “What is your assessment of the group? Are they strong enough to succeed?”

Rekka opened her mouth and closed it just as fast. Until now she’d kept the thought in the back of her mind. Time and emotions blended to the point she’d become invested in their success or failure. She was just as much a part of the group as Bahr or Skuld. Detaching her personal feelings left her disjointed. “They have great strength that can be used to their advantage when times become dire.”

“But?” he asked with raised brows.

“For each strength there is a corresponding weakness. Unity of purpose can only take them so far before they fracture and break. There are moments when the group fails, like the moment Maleela was captured.”

“Her loss hurts gravely but there is little to be done for it now. We must focus on preventing her from being turned to evil’s purpose,” Artiss said and sighed.

“Her distraction could prove fatal. Bahr is governed by emotions. He will not stop until she is back at his side. It is an interesting dynamic for two people who seldom met and did not know each other,” Rekka added. The promise of family struck deep emotional chords, especially after her recent ordeal with the warriors of Teng.

Artiss watched her memories play across her troubled face but held his tongue. She needed to work through her misgivings in order to find the total peace required to perform her task. Rekka was an immeasurable asset he was fortunate to have emplaced. If only Bahr and the others managed to keep their petty differences to a minimum they might have a chance. He studied his pupil. She had strength, courage, and the right amount of conviction, but was embroiled in turmoil. Her mind wasn’t in the right place. Too many conflicting thoughts pushed through logic corridors to collide with unchangeable moments in time. Running into Cashi Dam proved more challenging than he had envisioned.

“And you, my dear? Where is your mind right now?” Artiss asked, catching her off guard.

“I don’t understand your question,” she replied.

“The events with villagers from Teng must weigh on your soul. Are you troubled by them? Does it disturb you to be banished from ever returning home?” He pressed, deliberately, in order to accurately gauge her poise. She had no way of knowing, but she was the glue keeping this quest together.

“My heart has grown cold over the issue, Master. Teng will always be my home, whether I accept my banishment or not. Cashi Dam’s ignorance was regrettable but ultimately unavoidable. Whatever emotion he carried was not love and that led to his death. I will stay the course. Malweir must be saved from the dark gods.”

Her reply was swift, the words flowing rapidly without any trace of emotion. Far from ruthless, Rekka understood the necessity of being harsh in harsh times. Any associations with her home, severed as they were, wouldn’t interfere with her task. She’d been chosen to serve Trennaron and the Guardian for a specific purpose. Anything less than complete effort meant doom for a great many people.

“A very political answer. One that belies the hard layers around your heart. Good. Keep your defenses up. I rely on you more than you know, Rekka Jel. You are a good pupil, one of my best.” He paused to enjoy the first rays of golden sunlight slicing through the banks of dark clouds on the eastern horizon. “Where are the others?”

“They await in the dining hall. Do you want me to fetch them?”

“No. I will be down shortly. The time has come for them to see the object that has taken them from their wintery homes. I must prepare the Blud Hamr vault.”

Rekka stalked off while Artiss watched the sunrise a moment longer. His heart felt heavier than normal as he contemplated what opening that vault meant for the world. Reluctantly, the Dae’shan folded his robes in on himself and disappeared.

Conversation faded and eventually died when Rekka entered the dining hall. A dozen empty benches each capable of seating twenty adults surrounded the handful of heroes. Half-empty plates of green apples, jellied ham, light and dark breads, cheeses, and boiled eggs filled their table. Goblets of ale and water interspersed the food. The air had the faintest hint of pipe tobacco smoke, reminding her of times better spent.

“There’s still enough food to feed a company of soldiers fresh off campaign,” Bahr offered upon seeing her.

Rekka smiled warmly. “Thank you but I have already eaten. I rose much earlier to practice my drills.”

“Why does that sound ominous?” Boen asked.

“Perhaps it is, though I don’t mean it to be so. Master Gran has requested you all to join him down in the vaults. He is opening the Blud Hamr.”

Her words cut into them like knives. All of the long weeks and months of the quest had boiled down into a singular moment; one they never felt was going to arrive. They’d fought and bled across a large portion of the world to get here. Friends were lost. New enemies made. It was all in the past now. The great clock of their adventure finally wound down, leaving them at the edge of gaining what they so desperately sought. Bahr rose first, followed closely by Anienam.

“Let’s get on with it. I’m dying to see if this trinket lives up to the reputation Anienam crafted around it,” the Sea Wolf said.

Several of the torches on wall sconces flickered from unfelt winds. Trennaron itself seemed to grow quieter as if it knew the significance of what was occurring. Rekka waited for the others to finish eating and wipe their mouths. She’d never admit it, but she wanted to behold this once ancient weapon as well. The implications the Blud Hamr brought forth were varied. She might be set free from her tenure at Trennaron once the dark gods were ultimately defeated. Artiss Gran would choose another, giving her the freedom to pursue Dorl Theed and possibly marry. The thought left her warm as she led the way down long, unused corridors.

Trennaron was a winding maze of implacable passages. Marble of every shade and color filled the halls, dwarfing the grandeur of any other palace. Arched ceilings made the castle look much larger than it was, which wasn’t saying much considering just how big Trennaron was. Immaculate statues of Men, Dwarves, Elves, and races they couldn’t name lined several of the halls. Heroes of old, Rekka explained. She pointed out the statues of Delin Kerny and Fennic Attleford, the two boys responsible for killing the Silver Mage and ending the last attempt to bring the dark gods back. There was the statue of Kavan the Gaimosian. His deeds were legendary as he was the first to destroy a nexus. Celegon the Elf stood with keen eyes and the mighty Star Silver Sword, Phaelor, in hand. Ironfoot gazed upon the immense statue of Norgen the Dwarf, a legend from a thousand years ago. Beside him stood Grelic the Giant of Thrae. All of these heroes had contributed to preventing the dark gods’ return. There seemed little doubt that fresh pedestals would be erected for whoever was fortunate enough to survive this fight.

Rekka led them to a grand, winding staircase that plunged deep into the bowels of the world. Hesitant at first, they only followed when Boen shamed them into it. Gaimosians seldom felt fear of any kind. He certainly wasn’t about to show any in the heart of the castle of the gods of light. Rekka explained some of Trennaron’s history, what little she could, as they went down. Built as a reservoir of knowledge, the castle stored the wealth of the gods on Malweir. There were no caverns of gold or jewels. No priceless stones or gems. Knowledge was power and Trennaron boasted the largest, most complete compendium of history in the world. Every minute fact was recorded and stored by a host of scribes all but chained to their desks and ink pots.

There were few questions as flight after flight of stairs went past. Many of them found the trip exhausting while imaging how difficult the return trip was going to be. Not even months on the trail conditioned them enough to keep their knees from burning or their breathing labored. Dorl was certain they were going down to the center of the world. Only Ironfoot bore no qualms. Dwarves were a stout race used to pushing deep underground.