“I am not accountable for the sins of my fathers,” the wizard said, stiffening. “Regardless of their downfall, the first Mages were responsible for bringing Malweir together. Can you imagine how easy it would be for the dark gods and their agents to return if we were all keeping to ourselves? None of us would have a chance. Darkness would return and Malweir would devolve into chaos and hatred.”
“And for their arrogance the Mages were run to extinction,” Faeldrin said. “I am not arguing against you, my friend, but trying to make Maleela see a different point of view.”
“I still don’t completely understand,” she said.
“Very few do,” Anienam said before the Elf could open his mouth. “It was meant to be a grand time. An era of elegance that would ensure peace and tranquility between all races. Our greatest minds conspired to create the crystal of Tol Shere. Through the crystal kings, queens, and petty tyrants would all be on the same level. Knowledge is meant to be shared, not hoarded.”
“A sound practice in theory. Reality is a far different creature,” Faeldrin replied. “Could it not be conceivable that the enemy forced the creation of the crystal? Knowing how fallible mortals are it is easy to think the Dae’shan might have influenced some of the creators. Sometimes even the best of us stumble and fall.”
Anienam had no counter argument. The crystal was made flawed, whether by design or an accident. Half of the Mages turned to darkness under the leadership of Sidian, the order master of the Silver. Anienam prayed and did everything in his power to ensure such a thing never happened again. The death toll from the first war had been horrendous. Almost an entire generation wiped out; far worse than any plague. If the dark gods succeeded in returning, he let the thought die rather than discover the options.
“That is a sad fact of life. Strength does not always translate into wisdom or greatness,” he finally said. “Let us hope we are strong enough to do what’s right for the sake of all of our peoples.”
Faeldrin nodded in agreement. “Wise words. Let us hope.”
They continued in silence for the time being. Each weighed the consequences of their actions. History often forgot the people but the deeds were recorded meticulously. Maleela knew her uncle wanted nothing to do with the crown, leaving her the sole survivor of the family once her father was removed. She didn’t know if she had what it took to become a queen or even how. The doubts gnawed at her confidence, leaving her aching for answers. Anienam saw the failures of his people and the inability of his father to accomplish what he’d spent a lifetime trying. The crystal was lost, presumably destroyed when Sidian was killed. Yet the dark gods continued to attempt their return. Why? How? The answers eluded him. Only Faeldrin rode with confidence. Everything happening now had happened before. He held little reservation that they would happen again. Life was circular, neither beginning nor ending.
“We are close,” Bahr said.
Ironfoot shook his head. “No. The river is still a few hours away. We should gain the shores by dusk.”
“You mean to depart at night?”
“I wouldn’t. The rivers are too fast, too treacherous to navigate in the dark. It would be best to load the boats and post a guard, then leave at first light,” the Dwarf replied.
Bahr shot Boen a quick look to see if he concurred. “You expect trouble this far north? I thought the bandits stayed south, by the desert.”
“Goblins have been seen roving the avenues from the east. We believe they are funneling west to King Badron’s war effort in Rogscroft.”
Bahr refused to believe his brother had stooped so low as to enlist the aid of Goblins. Long considered the scourge of the world by most of the other races, Goblins existed only for fighting. They relished the opportunity to die in battle. Why in the Hells would Badron want that sort of chaos? He has the Wolfsreik. He could conquer the entire north with their strength.
“Thord wasn’t very forthcoming with information concerning the war. Understandably of course given his own situation,” Bahr replied. “What else do you know?”
The Dwarf cocked his head, stroking the bone fragments laced into his beard. “Not much really. We’ve confirmed the city fell and chaos has befallen the Delrananian armies. There are whispers of great evil at work.”
“We’ve been hunted by this evil since leaving Chadra,” Boen said through a yawn. “I’d like nothing better than to drop my axe into its skull and be done with this all.”
“Unfortunately it is not the sort of evil than can be killed by conventional weapons,” Bahr countered. “We’ve tried and failed.” He paused to search the skies for signs of their pursuit. He wasn’t foolish enough to believe the Harpies would have given up so easily. “I doubt it will be long before our enemies pick up our trail again. They’ll know we went into Drimmen Delf.”
“But not which way we left,” Boen answered.
“East is the only logical direction. They seem to know where we are heading. How else would you explain them being ahead of us?”
“We should have engaged them better in Fedro,” Boen said. “Rekka’s a sure shot with her bow but there’s no way to know whether we killed the creature or just wounded it. I say we make a stand and end this.”
“End it how?” Bahr asked. “They won’t come anywhere close if they’re smart, which they’ve proven to be time and again. Besides, I believe we have worse to think about. Harpies aren’t much danger and, if what Anienam says is correct, they’re working for agents of the dark gods. Who knows what fell powers they have at their disposal? I think the enemy is going to try harder to stop us the closer we get to Trennaron.”
“I’m not convinced the place exists,” Boen said. “I’ve been across Malweir a dozen times and have never come upon so much as a rumor of it.”
“You shouldn’t discount something just because you lack proper knowledge,” Ironfoot interrupted. “I learned that lesson well over the last few days.”
Eventually the tree line thinned out to a soft, rolling field covered in untouched snow. The air grew colder. Fresh ice crystals shimmered in the low light. They could hear the sound of rushing water. An unending wave of water pouring in from the Northern Sea eventually emptying out into the Brodein Delta and the Southern Ocean. The Fern River was one of the largest fresh water bodies on Malweir. Whole communities sprang up around the waters further down. It took a special breed of Man to live this far north, where winter claimed half of the year.
Bahr’s first sight of the river left him impressed and worried. A storm was coming, but from which direction?
THIRTY-ONE
The River Men
Skuld held his breath. He’d never been this far to the east and certainly didn’t believe such an expansive body of flowing water could exist. The Fern River was massive, spanning more than three hundred meters across. He felt infinitesimal. Raging waters rushed by in an unending flow. The warmth was stolen from the air, leaving beast and Man shivering. Ducks and sterling geese clustered on the far shore. An eagle circled overhead, screening for a quick meal.
Skuld sucked in his breath and whistled low. “I never thought something like this existed.”
Anienam smiled. “It is a grand sight, but minimal considering all we’ve seen thus far. Not to mention what we’ve got coming to us.”
“I had hoped the worst was behind us,” the boy commented slowly.
Anienam laid a soft hand on Skuld’s shoulder. “One can never tell where the road will lead. All we can do is forge ahead and plan for the best and worst.”
Dorl crawled from the wagon bed and stretched. He listened carefully to Anienam, disappointed with what he heard. A boy like Skuld didn’t need the doom and gloom speeches. He was too young to process it all. Shaking his head, the sell sword ambled over to Nothol.
“You hear that?” he asked.
Nothol nodded. “He’s just being himself.”
“Is that what it’s called? He’s filling the boy’s head with end-of-the-world scenarios. It’s not right,
Nothol. We’ve come too far and been through too much to let him demoralize Skuld.”
“Demoralize? That’s a big word for you,” Nothol joked. “I think Rekka is giving you a little culture.”
Dorl barely missed with the rock he halfheartedly threw. “More than that. I never met a Woman like her. Damn it! Stop trying to change the subject. What he’s doing is wrong, Nothol. Mark my words, no good will come of it.”
“He’s acted the same way since we first left Chadra,” the bigger Man replied. “I don’t see any cause for concern now. Besides, he’s done just as much to keep us moving unhindered as the rest of us. Well, all but Ionascu. I still don’t see why we keep him around.”
Because Bahr won’t let us get rid of him properly. “We still have plenty of time to see if he accidentally falls into the river, or worse.”
“Murder isn’t my style.”
“Not mine either but I don’t fancy waking up with a knife across my throat either,” Dorl replied. “That Man is twisted.”
Ionascu suffered the worst out of all of them in Harnin’s dungeons. They’d beaten and broken him until his mind snapped, leaving a shell of a Man. Now he laughed for no reason and gave them guarded looks. Everyone knew it was just a matter of time before he attempted to kill one of them yet Bahr and Anienam reasoned that he still had some small part to play in the coming days and weeks. What, neither could say.
“No point in worrying about that. I say we do what we’ve always done. You watch my back and I watch yours. The Sea Wolf will get us out of this. If anyone can I know it’s him.”
“I don’t understand your blind faith,” Dorl said. “Bahr’s getting old and tired. He’s making more bad decisions and the risks only get higher.” His voice dropped to a bare whisper. “Do you think it might be time to pull out of this little endeavor?”
“Abandon him now?”Nothol asked even quieter.
Dorl shrugged. “We did what we signed on for. We rescued the princess and brought her back. Our contract is fulfilled.”
“We can’t abandon him now. The old Man is going to need as many friends as he can get if he’s to find the Blud Hamr and bring it back,” Nothol protested. The idea of giving up on his friend and going against his word sickened his stomach. A Man was nothing without his word.
“You really think we stand a chance? How come the wizard hasn’t said where we’re supposed to bring the Hamr? How we use it? When? There are way too many variables for me. None of this feels right.”
“Right how? We are embroiled in a quest way above either of us, in the middle of lands we’ve never been to, walking with Giants, Elves, and Dwarves, and looking for a mystical city that may or may not exist. What could possibly make sense in any of that mess?”
Nothol didn’t want to admit it, but his stomach remained in knots over their increasingly desperate situation too. There was an unnatural air cast about them. One he didn’t know how to combat. Fighting Dwarves and Harpies was one thing, but agents of enemy gods went far above anything he’d ever encountered before. Truthfully he wasn’t sure if he had what it took to go the distance and see the quest to its conclusion. He couldn’t find enough of a reason to go against his best friend, nor could he find it within himself to abandon the others. Nothol Coll stood on the edge of a predicament he didn’t understand with no viable way out. He sighed. When in doubt forge ahead and hope for the best.
“Maybe we’re not supposed to understand,” he finally said. “Not much of it makes sense to me but my gut tells me Bahr is going to need each of us to stop the enemy.”
“What enemy? We’ve been captured and tortured by Harnin’s Men. Attacked by brigands and Harpies since we escaped but what else? Rekka had her encounter with a dark creature in the woods around Praeg and you and I both know there are plenty of dark things in the world best left undiscovered. What else? I haven’t seen any evidence of Anienam’s dark gods or these shadow people that have him spooked.” He shook his head. “I can’t help but think we’re trapped on a wild boar hunt.”
The others started setting up camp for the night. A heavy barge was docked nearby, waiting to be loaded. There were a handful of swarthy-looking Men lounging on the deck. Their skin was dark from overexposure to the elements, their hair long and unkempt. Each wore a hardened look that was more than just for show. They lived hard lives. Winter in the north was no place for weak Men to try and earn a living, especially on the water. Only the very tough and very foolish braved working the river now.
“Hey, what are you two yapping about?” Boen growled from the opposite side of his horse. The look in his eyes told them he wasn’t in a forgiving mood.
Nothol raised his empty hands. “Nothing, just talking about old times.”
“If it’s nothing you can do it later. There’s work to be done, ladies.”
Scowling, the Gaimosian ambled off towards the barge with Bahr and Ironfoot.
Dorl pointed an accusing finger at the big Man’s back. “That I’m tired of. We didn’t sign on to be treated like children.”
“You’re reading too much into it. He’s a Gaimosian and that means a pain in the ass. They aren’t hired for their people skills, my friend. Come on. I don’t want to get chewed out again,” Nothol said and walked off.
Anienam sat on the driver’s bench quietly listening to their conversation. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to back out. He would if he could. Meddling in the affairs of the dark gods was no way to make a living. Wishing was a pointless endeavor. Rarely did dreams come true, even less did they work out anywhere close to what you wanted. No, disappointment was the currency of the realm. A universal statement that was unavoidable. He’d seen it hundreds of times over his life. Men and Women struggled through their daily grind only to be caught up in moments much too large to handle. The crash and burn followed swiftly.
His life was a string of disappointments. There were times when he wished his father had never found him. Never initiated him into the order of Mages, or rather what little remained. Anienam often caught himself wondering what a normal life would have been like. One where he knew nothing of magic or the vagaries of the dark gods. One where he etched out his days on a farm or in a market, bartering and trading exotic goods from across Malweir. Sadly, such was not his destiny.
All of the signs pointed towards the climax to many thousands of years of struggle between light and dark. He felt it burning in his blood. The time was fast approaching when opposite sides would collide and turn the world to ash. He knew balance would survive and past wrongs would be righted, but at what cost? How many tens of thousands needed to perish first before the tragedy finished playing out? One of the basic tenants of his teachings claimed all life was precious. He found it difficult to accept that the rule applied to the vilest of Men, that any of the Dae’shan retained a shred of mortality or decency.
Anienam spent years debating with his morals but no answer ever presented itself. The Dae’shan were the worst sort of evil. They’d given up their souls in order to achieve a dark power locked to the rest of the world. His knowledge of the order was limited, for most of the records were destroyed during the Mage Wars or before. The Dae’shan hadn’t always been evil. Once they served neutral purpose. They roamed the world executing the will of the gods. But as in all things, corruption took root. They fell. Darkness claimed them with an irreversible hold. What had been pure now festered.
He thought perhaps it had all played out the way it was supposed to, that the races of Malweir were intended to go through such trials. But to what ends? Nothing he imagined was worth the agony of the moment. Whole generations lived and died without ever knowing peace. The unending struggle just to survive was too much for many more. Whatever games the gods played he doubted it was worth so many lives. Anienam wondered if the world would be a better place without any of the gods. Certainly there’d be far fewer conflicts or threats of unimaginable disaster.
So he sat and listened to the sell sword’s complaints, secretly sympathi
zing with him. Dorl Theed wasn’t a good Man, but neither was he bad. He paid his dues and struggled through life in the best way he knew how. Tough men were forced to live tough lives. He and Nothol had gone into some of worst situations Anienam could imagine and come back out with barely a scratch. They were the kind of Men he wanted at his side when things went terribly wrong. That such rough Men were few and far between was both blessing and curse. Anienam liked to think that one or maybe both would still live when the quest ended. It was a pleasant fantasy.
Hopping down from the wagon, Anienam started whistling an old melody, the origins long forgotten. He was about to unpack his bedroll when Ionascu cackled.
“We’re all going to die. You know this, wizard.”
Anienam frowned. He’d nearly forgotten the crippled Man was still with them. “Oh shut up. Or you’ll find your way to the bottom of the river.”
“Should I be afraid? I know one thing you don’t.”
“What is that?” Anienam winced, knowing he shouldn’t have bothered.
Ionascu sat up and looked him directly in the eye with a moment of rare clarity. “I am already dead. My soul suffers as we speak.”
Shaken, the wizard stumbled away. Alacrity was unexpected in one so broken and abused as the former spy. Ionascu was little more than a shadow of what he might have been. Harnin’s torturers were professional if nothing else. Why then do his words strike deep chords? A creature like this shouldn’t do more than elicit a smile. Anienam decided to clear his mind. He’d had enough double talk and nervous feelings. Thinking the river might given him better clarity, he soon stood on the mighty shore, well downstream from Bahr and the others. This was no time to converse with them. Not in his current state. Still, that didn’t stop him from eavesdropping on the Sea Wolf and the river Men.
“Half now and half when we arrive at the final destination,” Bahr argued.
A Whisper After Midnight Page 25
