The Madness of Gods and Kings (33 page)
Read The Madness of Gods and Kings Online
Authors: Christian Warren Freed
Tags: #Sci Fi & Fantasy, #Fantasy, #Epic Fantasy
Unfamiliar sounds reached his ears, breaking the pull of distant memory. The hammer strapped across his back vibrated slightly, suggesting immense reserves of power. Ancient memories flooded into the young Giant through the awesome power of the Blud Hamr. He witnessed long forgotten battles play out. Armies of his kin marching to war. Visions of past and future collided to distort his reality. The one constant was the whispering of the weapon. It soothed him. Calmed his nerves and warned of battle.
Groge looked down to see dark figures heading towards the wagon. Rage took him. The Giant attacked. His boot caught the nearest assassin in the chest and propelled him through the air. Tulwar in hand, Groge waded into the others. Each swing bore enough force to shatter an oak to kindling. These killers had come for his friends. He refused to allow them. Stunned at the sight of a being many thought imaginary, the Black Guard froze long enough for Groge to slaughter them all.
Their swords barely nicked his leathery skin. Not a one drew blood, even as he brought his tulwar down on the last assassin’s head. Bones snapped with sickening crunches. Two managed to escape, already the rearguard. Their tales would reverberate across Delranan within days, though few would give them credence. Groge continued to hammer away at the dead until they became bloody smears. Wicked laughter filled his ears.
“I hate this.”
Anienam suppressed the grin he felt. “Be patient, young Skuld. I’d have thought you would have had your desires for action sated by now.”
Skuld offered a confused look. The wizard was normally off center, but since losing his vision he rambled ceaselessly about matters few understood. “I’ve earned the right to hold my own, Anienam. Sitting here guarding the wagon should be another’s job.”
“Not to mention babysitting a blind, old man? Who else is going to do it? The others are warriors, whether you choose to accept that or not. They are trying to fight off our enemies before they can reach the wagon. Don’t be so quick to rush into battle without knowing all of the facts first.”
“I’m not a child anymore,” Skuld protested. “I’ve been through just as much as the rest. What more do I have to do to prove my worth to Bahr?”
“You can start by keeping your voice down,” Bahr’s voice called from the surrounding darkness. He stalked out of the night to stand beside the wagon. “The Black Guard have found us. Rekka’s already killed one and I’m sure there’s been movement on the other approaches.”
Dorl and Nothol were the first to return. They were just in time. A score of assassins burst from the surrounding trees, swords bared. Bahr rushed to meet them before the sell swords had the chance to react. Steel clashed as the old man struggled to hold his group. Assassins streaked by to attack the wagon. Skuld stabbed one in the eye before his sword was jerked out of his grasp. A pair of assassins crawled up, knocking him over the head. The boy was in the way. It was the old man they wanted.
Anienam remained still, his mouth innocently moving as words unspoken for generations flew past. His right hand began to glow deep vermillion. Neither assassin noticed. They reached down for him. Anienam opened his blind eyes, the protective wrapping long since removed, and touched each assassin with the tip of his index finger. Each man exploded in a cloud of ash. Exhausted, the wizard slumped back onto the driver’s bench.
Their wits recovered, the sell swords charged into Bahr’s helpless battle. An assassin was down, holding the stump of his right wrist, but the others circled Bahr, toying with him. Nothol blindsided the nearest assassin, knocking him away and exposing the man to his left in the process. Using forward momentum, Nothol skewered the assassin through the ribs. A gargled scream rippled across the battlefield as that man dropped.
Dorl struck from Bahr’s right. With the odds slightly less in their favor, the majority of the assassins recoiled to adjust tactics. Bright Mage light flooded the area. The smell of burnt flesh choked the air. Forced to parry an overhand blow, Dorl staggered back a step. A blade sliced across his ribs, grating the armor in a shower of sparks. He grunted and swung back. The strike missed and threw him off balance.
Bahr growled as his elbow connected with the nose of the nearest assassin. Blood and cartilage leaked down the man’s ruined face. The Sea Wolf propelled into him, crashing down on top with a bone-jarring crunch. Fists hammered. The assassin managed to bring his knee up and threw Bahr off. Dorl killed him quickly with a thrust to the throat.
The battle escalated quickly as Boen and Rekka charged into the assassins from behind. What had begun as a well-orchestrated assault devolved into a bitter contest of wills the Black Guard could not win. Boen’s sword reaped a mighty vengeance while Rekka moved much quicker than any of the assassins could anticipate. It was finished in moments.
Being helped to his feet, Bahr looked around at the carnage.
What is it all for? Did these men understand why they’d been sent to attack us? Do we understand the gravity of what we’re trying to do? How many more need to die before the gods’ lust for bloodshed is slated? I grow weary of this life. So very weary. Even after this nightmare I cannot rest. The wounded need to be seen to. Plans needed to be remade. I’ve no doubt our enemies will return in even greater force. What fools we were to think we were up to this challenge
.
He sheathed his sword and turned back to the wagon. No words needed to be said. The others paused to watch him, their minds scattered. After several months and dozens of skirmishes and battles, Bahr managed to walk with sternness. Pride wouldn’t let him falter. Not now. Not this close to the end. His strength would see them to the end, even if it killed him in the process. One by one they silently followed him. It was past time to move.
Bahr stood at the edge of the sloping hill. Delranan stretched out before him, an endless series of rolling plains untouched by horse or rider since winter began. The morning was still faint, night refusing to let go as easily as it once had. Shadows clung to the world as if sensing the coming conflict. He once found comfort in gazing upon untouched lands. Once, but no more. Delranan had grown wild, untamed since the end of summer. He no longer felt at ease. The peace of his solitude died the moment his brother became seduced by the fell powers of the Dae’shan.
Anienam confirmed their journey was nearly ended. A short, three-day ride to the ruins of Arlevon Gale was all that stood between the increasingly fatigued group of heroes and the end of the quest. What they’d find upon arriving was beyond any guess, even for the wizard. Dark clouds, perpetual as the days shortened, choked the far horizon. Armies were massing. The time of the final convergence was at hand and Bahr aimed to lead his haggard group directly into the heart of it. Only three days left until the final battle for Malweir began. Bahr sighed, crisp in the dawn air.
Three days until we see who lives or dies
.
END
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Christian W. Freed was born in Buffalo, N.Y. He recently retired from a twenty year career in the U.S. Army. Armies of the Silver Mage is his first book for sale and was written during his tour of duty in Afghanistan. Much of the experiences and battle sequences in his novels come from his three tours of duty in Iraq and Afghanistan and a keenly developed understanding of military tactics. He graduated from Campbell University with a degree in history and is pursuing a Masters of Arts degree in Military History from Norwich University. He currently lives outside of Raleigh, N.C. and devotes his time to writing and to his family and their two Bernese Mountain Dogs.