He nearly smiled. Saying it wasn’t half as bad as he feared. The long days spent contemplating how best to approach the subject seemed for naught. Endless hours of torment shattered like glass once he said the words. He realized there was hope. Harr might damn him for his decisions, but Ibram knew he couldn’t go back. Not now. He trembled as he waited for Seldis to react.
Seldis eased back into the cushions of his chair, folding his hands in a well-rehearsed move. “Brother Ibram, I may have just the tool to test your desires. What do you know of Thrae?”
TEN
Kialla
The light drizzle felt good on Grelic’s head. He turned his face up to the clouds and let the rain wash the fatigue from his face. A crisp wind blew just hard enough to feel good, almost refreshing. He’d never enjoyed the stench of civilization. Kelis Dur wasn’t as bad as some of the other cities but it was enough to keep the wind out. Grelic hated the confinement of the walls. Organized society wasn’t for him. He didn’t enjoy crowds or seeing your neighbor as soon as you stepped out the front door.
He needed forests and streams. The smell of grass after early morning dew. He needed the thrill of the hunt. The sight of a stag bounding away. No city offered that. Perhaps that’s what made him so different. He’d never felt the need to huddle next to his fellow man for comfort or security. Never needed constant companionship to justify his existence. He was a child of the world, born and bred for the ultimate freedom.
Grelic lowered his face and stared thoughtfully at the open world. The urge was growing. Part of him, that wild, untamable part, wanted to turn his back on humanity and run off. Primal and seething, the wild side whispered to him. He often wondered how easy it would be to abandon the kingdom of Thrae and his promise to the king. Forget the troubles and hardships. Certainly better men who actually cared were willing and available to fill his place. Let them save the world. Grelic wondered, but not for long.
“Damnation,” he cursed and headed back towards Kelis Dur.
Loyalty and honor were his strongest principles. He’d been raised to believe a man was nothing without his word. Too often that mantra became a bane. A curse for him to battle through while lesser men turned and fled from their responsibilities. Grelic wandered aimlessly for a time, uncertain in which direction to go. He knew she was here, or at least she had been the last he heard. If he had any chance of success he was going to need her help. Finding her was going to be the problem.
Grelic wound up on the main avenue in the center of the town. Kelis Dur wasn’t overly spectacular for a capital city. The Sibit River ran in a long loop through the old city. Most of the palaces and gardens had been rebuilt once the rulers decided to clear out that part of town. The buildings were all the same lonely grey or rustic brown. Occasionally he spied a green or blue to break the monotony. Grelic suspected the drabness was due to the true mountain and stone traditions of the founders. Early settlers of Thrae were as hard as the environment they chose to live in.
Thrae was a land of constant storms and bad weather. There was so much rock in the soil it was almost untamable. Farmers had the worst of it. The land had broken too many men. Not even their iron toughness was enough to keep many alive during the hard times. Grelic knew he’d make a miserable farmer. He was too headstrong. Too set in his ways. Farmers required patience and his barely lasted the duration of a battle.
Sickly clouds began rolling in, promising a nasty storm. Grelic had nowhere to go and no real idea where to begin looking. Out of the thousands of faces in Kelis Dur he could think of only one capable of helping. Whistling an old childhood tune, the giant shoved his hands in his pockets and ambled off in search of Phaes.
“Are you out of your mind? Rentor’s entire cabinet wants you dead and you’re going to help them?” Phaes shouted with disbelief. “This is madness!”
Grelic smiled in response. “What choice do I have?”
“Do what you first wanted. Head south and find a new place to get into trouble,” Phaes told him. A look of utter disgust crossed his face.
“They’ll just hunt me down and never stop until too many are dead. How hard would it be for one of those weasels to hire another assassin team? I’m not going through that again.” He paused to pass the violent memory. “This is my chance to finally be free.”
“How long have we known each other, Grelic? Twenty years? Thirty? The men opposed to Rentor won’t stop until you and he are both gone. You do realize you’re not just a random target?”
The giant held up his hands. “I don’t blend well in a crowd either, Phaes.”
The old sergeant grumbled something incoherent and stormed off to the other room. Grelic stood patiently in front of the fire, drying off from the heavy rain he’d been caught in. Despite a powerful thirst, he wisely passed up the proffered flagon of wine Phaes offered. He already dreaded his initial confrontation with her and getting drunk now would only make it worse. Phaes eventually returned with a pot of cold stew and a loaf of fresh, dark bread. He placed the pot on the iron hook and swung it into the fireplace. Being cold and wet was bad enough. Cold food was downright insufferable.
“Damned miserable day,” he said gruffly. “Tell me again why we don’t already live down south?”
“Who’d take us? I’m not changing my mind, Phaes. I’m tired of constantly being on the defensive. Now is the time to put pressure on the ones responsible for putting me in chains. This is the best chance I’m going to have. Maybe the only one.”
“If you’d just…” he dropped it, realizing there wasn’t much point in arguing with a headstrong man almost as wild as the mountains themselves. “What makes you think she’ll join you?”
Grelic tested the stew. It was starting to bubble.
“Not sure she will,” he replied. “But Kialla does like a fight. Sometimes I think she’s too much like me.”
“That spells trouble for all of us. The last thing Thrae needs is another you drunk and fighting. Too damned much trouble,” Phaes grumbled. “My head still hurts from the last time you hit me.”
“I apologized for that, and I was drunk,” Grelic protested.
“Still doesn’t take away the pain.”
Grelic scowled. “Will you help me or not?”
Phaes served them both healthy portions of stew and bread. The food was hot but bland. Spices and seasonings were always rare this time of year and Phaes was a horrible cook. “Let me do some checking. Last I heard she was over working the room at the Ram. Looking for a hire no doubt.”
“Been a long time since I was last there,” Grelic said between mouthfuls.
Phaes struggled to hold back the snort. “Been a long time since you last busted the place up. Do you have any idea how much you’ve cost the innkeepers here?”
“About as much as I am tired of hearing about it,” he replied angrily. “How soon can you find her?”
“Give me until sundown. Oh and try not to smash anything while I’m gone. If trouble does show up please take it outside.”
Grelic grinned. “Would I let anyone destroy your house?”
Phaes didn’t want to answer.
* * * * *
Kialla sat up and ran her fingers through her shoulder-length, auburn hair. A sheen of sweat covered her naked body and she was still breathing hard. Her dark brown eyes held the gleam of lust, a rare look enhancing her natural beauty. She was lithe and very athletic. In her late twenties, she was childless and never married. Not for lack of suitors. Kialla was the object of several men’s affections. She ran her hand down her lover’s stomach, finally resting on his hardening member. There was a mischievous twinkle in her eye.
“Looks to me like someone wants more,” she said with a sultry voice.
His hand gently curled around her neck and pulled her down.
“The things you do to me,” he whispered right before her lips touched his.
Kialla sat at her usual corner table in the Battering Ram’s common room, nursing a pint of bitter ale. Her ch
air was tipped back enough to allow her long legs to prop up on the table. Faded brown boots went up to her knees. Her blouse and trousers were different shades of green and brown, in stark contrast to the vibrant city folk colors. Her clothing suggested she was a hunter. Few were so foolish as to ask what. Her steeled gaze kept most people at bay. She was anything but the tender kitten she appeared.
Staring through the clouds of smoke and heavy crowd, she searched for potential employers and assassins alike. Kialla had never been the drinking sort. She generally had one before getting bored and finding either a job or entertainment. Truthfully she didn’t know why she still hung around Kelis Dur. There wasn’t anything special about the city or the kingdom. Her adventures had run her across the vast northern kingdoms and beyond. She’d seen things no living soul should ever witness and walked away to tell of it. Kialla was a survivor.
Today’s heavy storm left half the common room empty. She failed to understand how bad weather could dampen spirits so. After all, Thrae only had bad weather. Most people chose to stay warm and dry in the boredom of their homes than come out and enjoy good food and halfway decent company. Considering she had a reserved room upstairs, she failed to see the problem. So Kialla sat and quietly sipped her drink, trusting something was bound to turn up.
The corner was the safest, most naturally defensible position in the room. She had a clear view of everyone coming and going out both the front and kitchen doors. Most of her weapons were locked in her room, but she never went anywhere without Lady Killer. The slender dagger had one jewel encrusted in the pommel: an amethyst. She’d never seen a jewel that shade of purple before. Kialla won the dagger from a drunk in a card game years ago. He’d tried to reclaim it later that night. She left him lying face down in an alley drowning in his own blood. Lady Killer never left her side.
Her eyes flashed as they paused on a familiar face. Kialla forced herself to remain calm as the giant seemed to pick her out of the crowd deliberately.
“I was wondering how long it was going to take you to show up,” she said with a tight, utterly false smile.
Grelic took a seat opposite of her and motioned for the barmaid.
“Oh no you don’t,” Kialla warned. “I’m not going down with you when Rentor’s men come to take you away.”
He groaned. “You too? Can’t a man enjoy one drink in peace without the rest of the world coming down on his head? One drink! Damnation!”
“The way you drink? Doubtful,” Kialla said and couldn’t help but giggle. Grelic still had a way of making her laugh, even after all their years knowing each other. She was young enough to be his daughter and just as nasty. “Why are you here? Last I heard you were going to be hanged.”
“That was the plan. They let me go on good behavior.”
She braced for the hammer strike.
“I need your help, Kialla.”
Bam! There it was.
Slowly, she swung her legs down off of the table and sat up. “Why don’t you just stop by to say hello?”
“Too many words. By the time we finish with pleasantries I’d already know your answer. My way gets to the point quicker.”
She shook her head in mock disbelief. “Flattery, Grelic. One day you’ll learn how to talk to a lady.”
He smiled. There’d been plenty of women in his life but the thought of having a committed relationship was too restrictive. Confining. He revolted at the thought of abandoning his freedoms for anyone. Men like him weren’t meant to sire children and live ordinary lives. Born while his father was away at war, Grelic was meant to die with sword in hand.
Grelic waggled an accusatory finger. “Don’t sweet talk me, lass. I’ve seen you use your tongue as sharp as a blade. It may work on most men but not this one. Bat your eyes or flick your hair, it won’t work on me.”
They both laughed a little. Grelic gave the barmaid a playful slap on her rump after she set his drink down. She offered a sly, knowing look and sauntered off. He never would have done it if he didn’t already know her.
“What do you need me for?” Kialla asked. Odd, but she found herself almost jealous.
He spent the next fifteen minutes explaining his deal with Rentor and what it might potentially mean to the future of all involved. She was skeptical towards anything dealing with the king. Rentor wasn’t a bad man but he didn’t seem the sort to forgive grudges. Still, his people loved him, which was more than could be said about people like her and Grelic. Warriors without a war. They were of the sort most folk frowned down on when peace reigned.
“It doesn’t exactly sound like much fun,” she said when he finished. “Personally I’d rather sit here and enjoy the view. Who are we trying not to fight again?”
“I’m sure we’ll find a willing opponent,” he replied. “We always do.”
“What happens if we take on more than we can handle?”
“When has that ever happened?”
Her smile was brief. “More times than I care to remember. If I do this, and I’m not saying I will, what difference will it make to the future? Wars are one thing. I don’t feel the need to be a hero and I don’t want to be one. All I want is to make my way through the world unnoticed until death comes to claim me. Can you offer me that?”
“Sometimes we don’t get the choice. Fate decides what we’re meant to be. You and I are fighters, Kialla. From the day we were born. No amount of wishing or hoping can change that.”
She stood, smoothing the wrinkles from her blouse in such a way he had to notice the supple curves beneath. “I’ll let you know.”
“By dawn. I’m staying with Phaes.”
Her hand gently stroked his stubble-covered cheek. It was soft, lingering. Grelic watched her leave, admiring her shape and sway. Only when the door closed behind her did he frown. This might be harder than I thought. Grelic downed the rest of his ale and motioned for another.
Kialla went back to her room with a smile. She hadn’t seen Grelic in months and was glad to know he wasn’t dead yet. Despite all of her protests and casual disregard she realized she really did care what happened to Thrae. Not that she ever had many friends. She cared more about what happened to Grelic and why he felt so obligated to do this.
ELEVEN
Of Dragons and Mages
Cool spring breeze danced across the peaks and towers of Kelis Dur. The half moon lurked directly overhead, offering shafts of haunting light through the thin layer of intermittent clouds. The rains had stopped hours ago, leaving Thrae waterlogged. Thick clay-like soil prevented the water from draining properly, even with the major river running through the city. The air held a semi-permanent chill slight enough to keep most men inside.
Codel Mres wasn’t most men. He wasn’t imposing. Wasn’t even brave or particularly strong. He was cunning and manipulative and he was tired of standing in Rentor’s shadow. Tired of the endless jests on his character. Tired of perpetual embarrassment in front of lords and nobles. There was a time when Codel aimed to please his childhood friend. He’d dedicated much of his life to the kingdom and had nothing substantial to show for it. Codel had better, bigger designs for his world and those didn’t include the current monarchy. That’s when they came to him, promising riches and power unimaginable until it blossomed in his mind.
He cursed as he stepped in a puddle. Even from atop his private tower he found it impossible to escape the near perpetual deluge. Codel had been promised Thrae for his subversive efforts. At this moment he doubted very much he wanted it. A raven cawed from the small cage resting on a stone table. Beads of water frosted the purple-black feathers.
“You don’t like the rain either, eh?” Codel chuckled.
Reaching inside, Codel made a quick chirping sound. The raven hopped down from its perch and onto Codel’s arm. The prime minister removed his one true friend and stroked the wet feathers. The bird watched him with curiously dark eyes. Codel fumbled slightly as he attached the small leather case to the raven’s leg.
“Fly true
and fast, my friend. The world is against us,” he whispered for no reason.
The depths of his treachery were only eclipsed by his own desires. He launched the bird and watched as it headed north. Paranoia always gripped him for those first few moments. Would an alert guard notice and shoot it down? Or would hawks be sent to hunt the raven? His head would be on a pike should Rentor ever discover the truth. Drawing his cloak tighter to keep out the chill, Codel carefully avoided the puddles on the way back inside. Thunder rumbled in the distance, promising more rain.
* * * * *
Less than one hundred leagues separated the Darkwall Mountains, the far northern border of Thrae, and the Great Northern Sea. Early spring was no different from late winter. Weather seldom improved until midsummer and then only for a handful of weeks. There were few settlements in this part of Malweir. Jagged cliffs filled with caves reached forever down the coasts.
A day’s ride from everywhere, right in the middle of nowhere, stood the mountain Druem. Ancient legend whispered of a war between gods being fought here, forever ruining this part of the world. They spoke of a curse placed here by the dark gods. Any man brave, or foolish, enough to enter Druem returned changed. Malweir was full of stranger creatures and mystic places. Druem was recognized as the most powerful. Hatred dwelled within the heart of the mountain.
Skies laden grey and black from perpetual storms wreathed the mountaintop. Small foothills spread out for miles around the base, turning the land into a massive lesion. Blackened forests ringed Druem, though from a distance. Only scrub brush grew nearby. Smoke was often seen weeping from cracks in the mountain. No one knew for sure what evil dwelled within and none felt the need to know so badly as to risk their lives.
Druem stood in the center of the kingdom known only as the Deadlands. Abandoned by Dwarf, Elf, and man, the Deadlands became home for Goblins. The foul race burrowed into the mountains and spread their brand of filth until the kingdom had become so corrupted no life thrived. They built their city, Mordrun Bal, at the base of the mountain. Mud and rock huts half buried in the rotting ground held thousands of Goblins, Gnomes, and other foul creatures. Most had already left, marching south for the great war against the other races of Malweir. Darkness crept back into the world. It was only a matter of time before the storm broke. The dark gods wanted to return and would stop at nothing to reclaim Malweir and plunge everyone into eternal torment.
The Dragon Hunters Page 7
