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Authors: Christian Warren Freed

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Hammers in the Wind (22 page)

BOOK: Hammers in the Wind
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“Hold on, what was all that about a nexus?” Dorl asked.

Anienam abruptly stopped pacing and looked up. “What? Oh. Nexus, yes. They are the gateways between worlds. A sort of portal if you will. Malweir is but one world in a host of hundreds, at least so far as the mages at Ipn Shal were able to learn. To my knowledge no living being of any race has ever survived the journey.”

“Making them the perfect prison in which to banish the dark gods,” Rekka added.

He waved her statement off. “Naturally this is all very suggestive. The gods of light tried to kill their dark brothers by sending them through the nexus. Obviously they failed. After all, how do you kill a god?”

“Stop believing,” Boen grumbled.

A twinkle in his eye, the wizard continued. “Exactly, and this was not done. Man, Elf, and Dwarf all continued to believe. The Goblins and Trolls go without question. Evil was allowed to remain. But back to the nexus. There are at least three that we know of. One lays at Ipn Shal where the mages built their domain. The second is in the land of Gren and was destroyed when Sidian was finally killed. The third your country helped destroy, Boen. It was almost two thousand years ago that Kaven and Pirneon did battle in the ruins of Gessun Thune.”

Boen’s mood soured at the mention of Pirneon. Once the Knight Marshal of Gaimos, he turned his back on his people and succumbed to the dark powers. Kaven had been right to kill him.

Bahr asked, “There are no others? Just these three?”

“None that we know of. That is why it is a mystery. The Dae’shan have no reason to be in the north.”

“Regardless, they are here and involved with us now,” Rekka said.

“I must think on this. The news goes far beyond any we previously expected.”

Anienam stole off to the far corner of the room. Most of the mercenaries were in complete surprise of his sudden revelations. A moment ago he had been a simple servant and now he was lecturing them on the history of Malweir. Bahr managed to hide his smile lest they discover he’d been keeping this from them the whole time.

“Who is this old man?” Ionascu demanded. He was the most tired of games. The past few weeks were taking a toll on him. The murder aboard the Dragon’s Bane initially spooked him and he hadn’t settled since. All he wanted now was to grab Maleela and be done with this miserable affair. His days as Harnin’s spy were coming to a close. The admissions of Anienam only compounded matters.

Bahr recovered quickly. He didn’t think it was time to give up all of his secrets. “Forget about him. We have more important things to worry about than one old man and ancient spirits. What we need is to focus on getting to the princess and infiltrating the kingdom before anything worse happens to us.”

“What could possibly be worse than this?” Dorl asked.

Bahr turned on the young sell sword and replied, “The Wolfsreik.”

Ionascu nearly choked.
How could they know
?

“Why would the Wolfsreik come here?”

Bahr shrugged. “Doesn’t it make sense? Badron hates Stelskor and this can be his big chance.”

TWENTY-FIVE

Dawn broke without much fanfare. Nothol Coll pulled the last watch, welcoming the warmth of the morning sun. The night was always coldest before dawn and he was frozen to the bone. He stared off, mesmerized at how the golden sunlight broke through the veil of clouds. Little did he realize that he was the only one of the group who did not fear the future. He saw tomorrow for what it was: an opportunity. Nightmares had walked the land long before he was born and would still long after he was dead. The particular hatred of the Dae’shan offered great challenge the opportunity to prove himself against a worthy foe.

A movement off to the right got his attention. “A quiet night.”

“You sound disappointed,” Rekka Jel replied. She had spent the night outside, waiting to see if her greatest fears were going to be realized.

“Unfulfilled is closer to the mark.”

She was confused. “I do not understand.”

Nothol yawned, shifting his focus on the small woman, silently measuring her worth. Finally he said, “This stays between us.”

“Of course.” She sheathed her sword and folded her arms across her chest.

He paused, suddenly uncertain about sharing his most intimate moments with this strange woman. “I was cursed some ten odd years ago. A minor shaman caught me killing a man. Turns out it was one of his kin. I don’t think I committed a crime. I was being paid to kill a murderer, so I did.”

“A curse is no easy thing.”

He nodded. “I agree, but it was what I did at the time. I was a fairly good assassin but his curse changed that. For my sins I am now forced to wander Malweir in search of an opponent capable of ending my life. That is the only way I will be set free. So I move through life in a constant battle. My soul knows no peace.”

“That is why you have come.”

“Yes.”

Dull rays of sunlight washed over Rogscroft. A cock crowed off in the farmer’s district. Soon the city would be alive with merchants and ordinary townsfolk going about their daily lives. It would not be safe for the tiny band from Delranan for much longer.

Rekka eased closer and gave him a knowing look with her deep brown eyes. “Perhaps you will find peace on this quest.”

She pulled away but not until after he snatched her hand. “Please, do not tell this to the others. Not even Dorl knows the truth.”

Rekka promised.

 

 

“It’s not going to work,” Dorl said between bites of something that looked like lamb but tasted a whole lot worse. It was hot and food, and better, it was cheap.

Nothol shook his head. “You keep saying that but nothing ever changes. Tell me why isn’t it going work this time?”

Dorl scowled. “Can’t a man be pessimistic from time to time?”

“Define ‘time to time.’”

“Shut up. You and I both know Bahr’s plan is shaky. How are we supposed to get enough local coin to buy a wagon, horses, and enough goods to pull off being legitimate merchants?”

Nothol sipped his tea. “Skuld is an accomplished thief. If nothing else Bahr has faith in the boy to come through.”

“Skuld is a liability at best. I admit, the boy has personality, but no experience.  We’re all in trouble if he gets caught.”

“Enough already. You’re making my food taste bad.”

The sell sword rolled his eyes. “Bad would be an improvement. Don’t go changing the subject. We are in over our heads.”

“We have been there before and always managed to pull through. Why should this time be different?”

Dorl set his fork down, nearly choking on the food in his mouth. “You can’t be serious. Did you not hear what Rekka had to say last night?”

“I did. It changes nothing. Like Bahr said, our priority is finding Maleela. We can leave after that.”

“These are unenviable times,” Nothol agreed.

It was a comment Dorl had no reply for. He preferred to keep his fears to himself regardless of the fact that Nothol was his best friend.

“Look,” he said. “Here comes Skuld now.”

The street thief sauntered towards them, sitting down like he belonged. He was clearly struggling to keep the smile from his face.

“Good news?” Nothol asked.

He nodded, tossing a bag on the table. “Enough. I haven’t counted it but I think there is more than one thousand in here.”

Dorl snatched it up before anyone might get suspicious and tucked it inside his leather jacket. “That’s quite impressive for a morning’s work.”

“I have a lot of practice. How much more do you figure we need?” Skuld asked. He finally smiled as Dorl pushed the remnants of his lunch over.

“Not much. Bahr guesses fifteen hundred should be enough. Good job, kid. Looks like you’re not just a stowaway anymore.”

“Thank you.”

Nothol smirked. “Good lad. Now go and see if you can get the rest so we can see if we can all get killed.”

Skuld snatched up the rest of the meat and dashed back into the crowd.

“You shouldn’t haze him so. He’s a good boy,” Nothol admonished.

Dorl shrugged. “I’m simply speaking the truth.”

“From your point of view.”

“There’s no other like it. Come on, let’s get this back to the captain. The sooner we do this the better.”

The sell swords dropped enough coins to cover their meal and a small tip and headed back to the safe house. Neither noticed the gaunt man with crisscrossed scars on his right cheek get up and follow.

*****

“These horses are a bit scraggly,” Boen grunted.

He walked around the back side, checking the musculature and grooming. He’d seen better and would never be able to ride one, but all he had to do was buy them and walk alongside. Still, he wasn’t used to such small animals. Gaimosians were larger than normal people, making the simple matters more difficult.

The stable master looked up at him indignantly. “They’ll do their job well enough. What else do you need them for?”

“That’s not what I am paying for,” Boen replied.

“Fair enough. What else can I do you for?”

“A wagon would be nice. Something to go along with these damned small beasts of yours.”

The stable master shook his head. “Can’t help you with that. I only have the horses for sale. Old Sven might have what you need. How big you need?”

“Big enough to start hauling supplies.”

“Ha! You and your boss are the damned fools. What sane man would start up a business on the eve of the invasion?”

Boen had two choices. He could either answer the question and give the stable master reason to sound the alarm or just go along with it. It didn’t actually prove to be much of a choice.

“Smart ones. War means business. If you were smart you’d be thinking of doing the same. Take advantage of the situation and you might find yourself a rich man.”

The stable master already had similar thoughts. Visions of a fat purse sparkled behind his eyes. Rogscroft was about to succumb to chaos and a smart man would be there to recognize the potential for profit. Boen was right, wars made men rich.

“Sven you say?” he asked.

The stable master nodded. “Aye. Tell him I sent you and he should give you a good deal. Leastwise for what you want.”

Boen dropped the money pouch into the horse man’s outstretched palm. “Thank you for your time. Take care.”

“You as well, big man. May the war find you well.”

*****

The wagon groaned as it ambled across the aged drawbridge. Bahr sat beside Anienam Keiss, handling the reins. He constantly scratched the skin where the fake beard was glued. The disguise was irritating but necessary.

“You shouldn’t be messing with it so much,” Anienam scolded.

Bahr frowned. “It doesn’t stop itching. Isn’t there something you can do about it? You are a wizard.”

“Not now. We are too close to the enemy. Try thinking of a different moment. That might take your mind off of the irritation,” he suggested.

“And get us both killed before we even realize what happened. I still think we could have done without the beard.”

“We have been over this. You look too much like your brother to go in without camouflage,” Anienam replied.

Bahr had no choice but to accept it for truth. They’d already risked so much that any betrayal now was comparable to treason. An innocent woman’s life depended on them. The weight was nigh unbearable. Bahr’s dreams reflected the torture of losing his only niece and he vowed to keep that from happening. He loved her more than her father ever could.

“Wizard, Maleela is the only important factor on this trip,” Bahr said. “All else is unimportant.”

“Yes I know.” Anienam’s voice almost sounded hollow. He too had his share of demons lurking in memory. The sudden reappearance of the Dae’shan proved his life a lie. Everything he and the other mages wasted their lives to destroy was now loose upon the world. He, like every mage before him, had failed.

“Perhaps we are approaching this from the wrong angle,” Bahr offered suddenly.

Anienam glanced over, his eyes bright beneath his bushy brows. “In what manner of speaking?”

“Think about it. Why would Badron send his entire army here for a girl he doesn’t care for? You’ve seen this place. They are only now preparing for war. I would have expected them to have been waiting in the trenches already. None of this makes sense to me right now. I feel like we are missing an important key.”

“Your thoughts suggest that the princess is in league with her kidnappers.”

Bahr didn’t think so. “Or in love with one.”

“There is always the possibility that exists. We will not know for certain until she is safely away from this city.”

Anienam fell silent, unwilling to ask those two most dreadful words in man’s vocabulary: what if. Bahr was too close to the truth and not ready to learn it. Malweir was in dire straits. The future was grim, but still uncertain. Anienam had a moral responsibility to gather forces to stand in the path of the dark powers. The needs and emotions of one family were of small matter. Still, he was plagued with the empty visions of what Bahr’s bloodlines might mean to the future. He wished he had more answers.

“What if she is in love?” Bahr asked.

“Matters would be sorely complicated.”

“More than they already are? That’s not very reassuring.”

Anienam flashed a thin smile. “It wasn’t meant to be. Are you ready? We are coming up on their guards.”

The Sea Wolf didn’t know if he was ready or not. Love was both fickle and dangerous. Those two conflicting emotions were the damnation of many a good man. If love were the culprit, there was no way Maleela would willingly leave Aurec. He couldn’t blame her. There was a chance for her to have a normal life here in Rogscroft. Away from all of the misery her father subjected her to. Here she might grow to be a queen. What if.

The sergeant of the guard held up a gloved hand, signaling the wagon to halt. He was a hawkish looking man, heavily muscled and clearly in the prime of his life.

“State your business in Rogscroft,” he ordered. His voice was terse, angry at having to waste his time on a toll bridge when he’d best be used out in the field preparing for war.

Bahr offered a wave and a friendly smile. “We are bringing rare silks from the southern desert to appeal to the ladies of the court.”

Clearly unimpressed, the sergeant gestured for his clerk. “Mark your name on the ledger and have your men stand aside so we can search the wagon.”

“Yes sir,” Bahr replied earnestly.

“That’s sergeant,” he corrected.

“Of course. My apologies, sergeant.”

The sergeant scowled, but said nothing more. Gathering his short staff, he rounded the side of the wagon and patiently waited for the rabble to climb down. They were an odd assortment but were altogether too familiar for his liking.

“Funny, you don’t strike me as being from the southern deserts. Maybe except for the old man and the woman. In fact, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were mostly from Delranan.”

The accusation only slightly caught Bahr off guard. He’d been expecting to be called on it, just not so soon. The stakes rose. Time became more important. The sergeant’s superiors would soon know of them and it would all be over. Bahr decided to use as much of the truth that wouldn’t get them locked in shackles immediately.

“Some of us are. My sons and I have made many successful trips to the towns and villages of Rogscroft. There never was a finer land.”

“Maybe so, but that was before your king started the coming war,” the sergeant snapped, unconvinced.

Bahr did his best to shrug it off. The knowledge that it was his own brother who was responsible haunted him again. “Kings do as they will. It is unfortunate that this war must come between our two peoples. There was much profit to be made between us.”

The sergeant’s eyes hardened. “Perhaps at one time. No more. Sell your wares and leave this city while you still can. Go.”

Bahr bowed down and walked away before the man had a change of heart.

BOOK: Hammers in the Wind
6.27Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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