“When the gods of light finished building Malweir out of their dreams and desires they realized they needed people to cultivate what they built. Without proper care the world would wither and die, something the dark gods sought to achieve from the moment light first breathed across the lands. Thus the world was divided. Half remained light and half dark. For many years they warred over us, each side knowing what was right and just. Finally, the gods of light knew they couldn’t defeat their dark brothers and offered a truce. They agreed to leave Malweir so long as the dark followed. The dark gods grew angry and created perversions among us. That is how Goblins and other foul creatures came to exist. We, my friends, are the unfortunate reminders of their bitter feud.”
Anienam looked to each face, giving time for his words to soak in. “The dark is ever seductive. They lulled the gods of light into a false peace and then unleashed their war on Malweir. The battles were fierce. Hundreds died for no reason. With the aid of good men and women or all races the gods of light were able to banish their brothers. Hiding them away in another dimension. Equals, they could not kill one another. So without the presence of the dark gods to taint Malweir, the gods of light agreed to leave us to our devices. We were given the chance to grow and become what we wanted.”
He fell silent, already lost in thoughts and possibilities.
“A fine tale, but one that doesn’t help us much,” Boen was the first to comment. “The Dwarves and Giants may once have been close kin but that relationship is strained.”
“I think we’re going about this all wrong,” Bahr interrupted. He rose and stood in the center of the hall. “We’re thinking small, of only our problems. What if we offered King Thord assistance in his war?”
Dorl spat a mouthful of ale. “What? Assistance? I didn’t come here to fight someone else’s war, Bahr.”
“That’s not what I’m suggesting. Thord’s just like the rest of us. He’s trapped in his way of thinking. We offer an outside view of the situation. Perhaps we can see something that hadn’t occurred to him or his generals. I say we offer strategies, tactics, anything that will help give his army the upper hand against the other clans.”
Boen grumbled. “A sound plan, but only if it works. You’re not taking into account Dwarven pride. They will be cautious. Thord has the same weakness as many lesser Men, vanity. He sees this war as an affront to his pride. The Dwarf king will be furious to salvage his reputation.”
“You argue that this will work,” Dorl added after finishing his ale.
The Gaimosian met his mocking with a mild shrug. “It may or may not. Don’t be quick to think anyone wants to hear that their plan isn’t working. All I know is that if we get the Dwarf king mad there’s a good chance we find ourselves in another dungeon, unless the wizard is actually going to perform magic to get us out of this mess.”
Anienam narrowed his eyes threateningly. “You know magic doesn’t work like that.”
Boen snorted and made for the barrel of ale. He’d heard enough and knew there wasn’t anything but the waiting for now. Born in battle and raised by a series of bad experiences, he’d seen his share of foolishness and was content to let Bahr and the others stumble through their current predicament. So long as the ale continued to flow.
“We’re getting off track,” Bahr jumped in. “Groge, I need you to convince the king to let me have an audience.”
The Giant chewed the last bit of bread thoughtfully, looking back and forth. He still didn’t see how he could help much. Without the benefit of experience or interaction with anyone besides his own people he recognized that he was as much of a liability as the crippled man skulking in the shadows. The knowledge that he didn’t fit in weighed heavily on him, but he had sworn oaths. Besides, he was the only one capable of wielding the Blud Hamr, if and when they managed to find it.
“I will do what I can,” he finally said.
SIXTEEN
Thord
Dwarves arrived shortly after to escort the Giant to their king. Each wore traditional armor with large, round shields strapped to their backs and a small hand axe at the side. Bahr spied odd-looking weapons strapped to their hips in leather pouches unlike anything he had ever seen. Asking questions a pointless endeavor, the Sea Wolf sat quiet as Groge was taken away and the door slammed shut quickly after.
“Bastards enjoy their privacy, don’t they?” Nothol remarked.
Anienam didn’t bother looking up from his book. “They are a proud and secretive people, almost as ancient as the world itself. Wouldn’t you do the same with so many strangers in your home?”
“That’s where you’re at a loss, wizard. Dorl and I don’t have a home,” the sell sword shook his head. “We take what we need and move on to the next job. There’s no point in sticking around when we don’t have to.”
“You have a very narrow view on life,” Anienam replied and went back to his reading. Everyone relied on him to give answers he wasn’t sure he could deliver. The book was almost as ancient as himself and in broken languages seldom used.
“Why do you goad him so?” Rekka asked Dorl after everything died down. “He is a good man. One we need if we are to succeed.”
Dorl thought for a moment and shrugged. “Oh I don’t doubt we need him, but that doesn’t mean I have to like him. His kind has always gotten under my skin.”
“Kind?”
“The ones who acted better than everyone else. Doing what they want under the auspice of impunity,” Dorl said and spat angrily. “Time and again I’ve seen their thoughts lead to foul deeds and corruption. Delranan suffers because of those like Anienam. Despite what Nothol claims I do think of Chadra as my home. I was born there. Raised there. It may not be perfect, but it is my home and I care for it nearly as much as Bahr.”
Rekka blinked and cocked her head. “I’ve never heard you speak of home. I find it refreshing. Your people are so different from mine.”
Dorl stayed silent. They’d spoken at great length on her homeland and her strange customs. He couldn’t imagine being raised to fight from birth. The idea of watching brothers and sisters die at young ages, thrown to the predators of a hostile jungle sickened him greatly. He knew she was a much better person than he, but at what cost? Rekka never had the chance to find love or make a family. Her entire life seemed dedicated to the cause. That didn’t seem right to him but he didn’t know how to begin explaining that to her. She was just as proud as the Dwarves, more so perhaps and with good reason.
“How do you do it?” he finally asked.
“Do what?” Rekka asked.
“Live such a solitary life? You’re a fine woman in every regard and I’m a better man for having met you, but I don’t think I could live the way you do. I’ve never had much in the way of family except for Nothol but the thought of being so solitary in this world is frightening.” Dorl stopped talking, realizing he was making a fool of himself.
Rekka smiled sweetly and cupped his cheek. “Dorl Theed, I am a product of my upbringing. We all do what we must. I was born for this purpose. It is inescapable. If it matters I am deeply attracted to you.”
“I like the sound of that,” Dorl said and smiled back. He leaned forward and kissed her, enjoying the taste of her honey-covered lips.
Skuld absently listened to their conversation before moving to join the wizard on the far side of the hall. Still a youth and largely inexperienced, the street rat was forced to adulthood by means he’d once idolized. Dreams of battle and campaigning had filled his head at the beginning of this nightmare. If not for the deep-rooted desire to gain untold riches, he might never have followed Dorl and Nothol after the prince’s funeral.
“You have questions, young Skuld?”
Embarrassed, Skuld quickly answered. “I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“But you did, else we would not be having this conversation. Tell me, what troubles you?” Anienam asked.
Where do I even begin? I used to think the world was small but never realized how wrong I
was until now. How do I tell him I’m scared and want to go home? He exhaled sharply, long and pent up with frustration. “I don’t think I belong here.”
“Of course you,” the wizard grinned. “I’ve learned that we often underestimate our personal value. You have doubts for obvious reasons. I know it feels like you haven’t contributed much to our overall mission, but the time is coming soon when all that will change. I see a great destiny in you, Skuld. It is only a matter of time before it is revealed to your clouded eyes.”
“You speak with a golden tongue but it doesn’t help the knot growing in my heart,” Skuld replied. “Everyone here is a great warrior. I’m just a kid living on the streets.”
“Do you truly believe that? Look around. Boen is the only warrior among us. The rest fight because they must. Poor Ionascu is better suited skulking in the shadows with a poisoned blade ready to plunge into an unsuspecting soul’s back. He’s no warrior but here he is. Dorl and Nothol quarrel far too much to stand in a shield wall in battle. They are glorified thieves, mercenaries at best. The princess hasn’t needed to get her hands bloody, nor should she. Royalty needn’t involve itself in the base adventures of the working class I think. Do you think I’m a warrior as well? I can’t recall the last time I had to kill a Man. Monsters and whatnot don’t really count or I might well be a mass murderer in some kingdoms. Ha!”
Skuld laughed despite his misgivings. “I’m not really that good of a thief, Anienam. I barely managed to get by before all of this. What a fool I was.”
“Fools don’t often recognize the fact. Don’t be too harsh on yourself, Skuld. Many a doesn’t learn his true path in life until much older than you are right now.”
“When did you realize what you wanted to be?” Skuld asked.
“Me? Well, that’s different. I never had a choice. My father raised me to follow in the line of Mages from the moment I made the mistake of speaking my first words,” Anienam broke off his thoughts with a chuckle, sorrowful and empty. “I never got to be a child, or at least I don’t remember it if I did. Mages and wizards are a prickly sort that take much getting used to, but once they figure things out they seem to do quite well in life. Not that there are any others running around Malweir, none that I know of at least. Come to think of it a few might have escaped the purges of the Mage Wars all those years ago, but they would have been hunted to ground quickly. Magic lost most of its relevance when the dark gods corrupted the crystal of Tol Shere and Sidian.”
“You’re the only wizard?” Skuld asked. He vaguely recalled having a similar conversation but that was long ago and so much had happened since, he remembered little.
“Unfortunately,” Anienam replied solemnly. “I accepted the mantle from my father, reluctantly, mind you. The last of a dying breed is not the legacy you want to carry on.”
Skuld was confused. “Why was magic attacked? Didn’t people see that it wasn’t the Mages’ fault?”
“No. Once the war ended and the bodies were laid to rest people needed an outlet to turn their aggression and grief upon. Mage kind seemed the logical reaction given all that had happened. Bounty hunters and mercenaries scoured the corners of Malweir. The purges ended the formality of the order; the majesty had died. Do not be discouraged by this. Magic still exists, if perhaps in a more base form.”
Skuld suddenly felt very small. Dreams of fortune fled, casually replaced by the idea of being swathed in regal robes. He imagined collecting power in his hands, becoming the embodiment of greatness in the name of a higher cause. Lost in the romance of it all, he asked, “Where did magic come from? How did the Mages begin?”
Anienam finally set the book down and leaned back, folding his hands over his stomach. “That is a story set in mystery and wonder. Magic, so far as we know, has always existed. A gift from the gods before they left or so the wisest of us wrote. The Mages, however, came from a very specific place. We’ve theorized that magic is inherent in many of us but can only be awoken by a subliminal trigger. Elves and Dwarves have had such powers long before Man evolved, but it was in forgotten Gaimos that magic first appeared in Men.”
Skuld’s eyes widened, forcing Anienam to chuckle.
“That’s right. Home of our very own Boen. Gaimosians were highly receptive to the powers channeling up from the earth. After the fall of Gaimos many fled east. They were drawn by something none understood. We know now that it was the pull of magic. They seemed destined to rise above what seemed like a war of annihilation and for a time they did. Magic flourished and the order of Mages grew rapidly. Soon enough Mages spread across Malweir in search of others. The order continued to grow. Ipn Shal was built in order to conserve our knowledge and provide a school to teach and learn. Magekind soon occupied the most important positions in many courts.”
“It must have been a grand time,” Skuld said breathlessly.
“I trust it was, one I wish I would have seen,” Anienam said. “Ipn Shal is nothing but haunted ruins now. A memory of what used to be. I fear when I am gone so too will the wealth of ages’ worth of knowledge. It is a sad thing, but inevitable.”
The doors opened suddenly with the quiet echoing sound of hobnailed boots marching in. Groge stalked behind a quartet of guards. His face struggled to conceal the raw emotions chewing his insides. As much as he wanted to shout out the news from Thord, he had been given specific instructions to not speak in front of the entire group. The king hadn’t exactly threatened to go to war against Venheim so much as insinuate it. Regardless, Groge decided prudence was his best course of action.
“Bahr and Anienam Keiss, you are summoned to an audience with the king of Drimmen Delf,” the Dwarf captain announced with a deep, thunderous voice. Even Boen appeared impressed with the commanding tone.
“It’s about time,” Bahr muttered under his breath, failing to take into account Dwarves’ outstanding hearing.
Scowling, the Dwarf captain patiently waited for the Men to join them. Silver ingots were plaited in his long beard, giving an almost regal appearance. Bahr studied the Dwarf as he got closer. Barely four feet tall, he was nothing but a mass of muscle with a perpetually angry scowl. Bahr almost felt they might have been friends in another life. Silver torcs wrapped around his biceps, the same colors as his eyes.
“Follow me,” the Dwarf growled and spun about.
Bahr waited until they were well down the torch-lit corridor before asking, “How long did it take to make all of this?”
The Dwarf passed a secretive glare to his companions. “All of what?”
“Your city.”
Muscles flexing, the Dwarf stopped abruptly and whirled on Bahr. “Drimmen Delf is the jewel of the Dwarven kingdoms, matching your Paedwyn.”
“I’ve never been myself but I hear it’s a real nice place,” Bahr countered, refusing to be cowed by his keepers.
The Dwarf scowled fiercely. He wanted to attack but feared the repercussions from King Thord. Discipline was held highly in their society and any lapse, intentional or otherwise, would be met sternly. A public shaming would hound him for generations.
“Drimmen Delf was built on the sweat of thousands of Dwarves over one hundred years. Few are those permitted within our halls, especially those not of our kind. King Thord is a proud man and brokers no ill will towards other races; neither does he find time for their inconveniences. You would do well to mind your tongue in his presence.”
“I’ve had enough of kings, Master Dwarf. Comes from my brother being a lousy one,” Bahr sneered. “I’ll show your king the respect due, don’t fret.”
“Enough of this pointless banter!” Anienam scolded them both. “You are the brother of the king of Delranan and you are the voice of the king of Drimmen Delf. I expect you to behave as such. We have important matters to discuss and I don’t need the two of you acting like children.”
Properly scolded, Bahr and the Dwarf nodded to each other and continued on to the throne room. King Thord sat well back on the throne, a leg up and chewing on a meat-c
overed bone. A handful of advisors milled around the base of the throne all muttering for attention. Stacks of parchments piled high upon the old table brought in for these meetings. Thord had little patience for the politics behind running a kingdom. He was bred to be a warrior and only ascended to the throne because of a foolish clause built in to Dwarven law. Never wanting to be king, he reluctantly settled in and realized he was in over his head. He was content to let the advisors try and figure out how best to run the kingdom while plans of warfare fell in his lap.
He looked up at Bahr and Anienam with relief. “Ah, the pirate and his wizard friend returned with my new Giant friend! Thank the gods. I grow wearisome of my advisors and their petitions. The young Giant tells me you wish to speak of the war. Good. I am more comfortable dealing with battles and troop movements. Be gone, lowly ones. I have important matters to discuss.”
Thord brushed his advisors off with grease-stained fingers and they filed away with mocking bows and curses under their breath. “Damned bureaucrats will be the death of me. I need to feel a good axe in my hand and the sting of wind on my bloodstained face again. Wars make us who we are. This,” he gestured to the expansive throne room, “This drives us all mad.”
“Precisely why I never wanted to fall into the trappings of kingship,” Bahr replied.
Thord regarded him for a moment, his eyes crisp and accusing. “A wise man. If only I had been so fortunate. Alas I wasn’t and here I sit, trapped in a world not of my making.”
“There’s a lot of that going on, your majesty,” Bahr replied. Most of his earlier animosity was gone, replaced by the idea of getting his people set free and on their way to Trennaron.
The Dwarf king nodded thoughtfully. “My captains tell me you have ideations on our little civil war. Tell me, what know you of Dwarf wars?”
“Absolutely nothing but that doesn’t mean I don’t know war,” Bahr said. “As we speak, my brother wages war on two kingdoms. Three great peoples are being subsumed under the heavy strain of combat and slaughter, all at the behest of the dark gods and their pawns on Malweir.”
A Whisper After Midnight Page 13
