A pair of werebeasts snarled dangerously as he exited the tunnel. Hidden expertly, they kept those unfortunates who’d stumbled into the forest from entering the tower. Corso ignored them. Once the best and bravest in the world, they were now his willing servants. Corso climbed to his private sanctum, pausing only when he spied the small river of blood trickling from beneath the door. He smiled and went in. The beast that had been Pirneon stood over the freshly murdered Tamblin. Blood covered his mouth and chin.
FORTY-EIGHT
Heroes Gather
Guards raised the alarm the instant Kavan and his group were within range of Kalad Tol. Men hastily dressed in full armor. Pharanx Gorg strode purposefully to the wall. His eyes blazed with focus. It was only a matter of time before either Kavan or Moncrieff found them. The mercenary captain glanced up to the endless blue sky. Today was a good day for battle.
“Riders approaching, sir,” the sergeant of the guard announced.
“Give me the glass.”
Wurz, a stout, violent Dwarf, offered, “Might be scouts. That or Moncrieff’s sent a party to talk us into surrender.”
Looking through the glass, Pharanx told his second in command, “Sorry to disappoint you, lieutenant, but it’s just the Gaimosians, with a few extras. Open the gates. We’ve got company.”
“Aradain is coming apart. Minister Corso seems to be running his own secret police, doing as he wants under the protection of the king. Assassinations, murder, arson. I think this is just the beginning,” Kavan told those assembled.
Pharanx asked, “Has the army deployed?”
“We don’t know.”
Wurz scratched his dark brown beard. “It’s a safe bet they have. We’ve already killed a good number of scouts. The bastards are coming.”
“I agree. The attack will come soon. With the hunt beginning, they’ll have the perfect cover to mobilize. No one will question the deployment.”
“Convenient for Eglios,” Aphere said. “No questions means no explanations.”
Kavan added, “This kingdom suffers from rot. Perhaps we should turn our focus towards weeding it out once we’re done with Gessun Thune.”
“That leads us to a dangerous place,” Aphere cautioned. “We fight wars for people, not to overthrow declining monarchs.”
“We owe the people of Aradain a new freedom. I’d expect no less from any of you,” Kavan retorted.
Pharanx disagreed. “She’s right, Kavan. None of us came here to remove Eglios. For all we know, he has the support of the kingdom. Politics are not our business.”
“You’re all mad!” Mabane exclaimed.
Pharanx barked a quick laugh. “Indeed we are. You tell me. You’re a citizen of Aradain; are you satisfied with the way your kingdom is ruled? How much has that arm cost you in life?”
“I’m still loyal,” Mabane said, some of the fire burning out.
“Are you?”
Pharanx had a malicious grin. For all of his bold words, Mabane knew he was outmatched. He felt like weeping inside. He wasn’t half the man he used to be. Somewhere along the desolate path of his life, he’d lost the very core of what made him a man. Mabane’s alcohol abuse left him hollow. His friends deserved more. His kingdom deserved more. He deserved more.
Mabane stood slowly and leveled his gaze at the mercenary. “I am a man of Aradain. I know I’m not what I once was, but neither would you be if you saw half of what I did. I’m no great warrior or descended from an ancient land. I’m just a man. Do what you have to do, and leave our kingdom in peace.”
He left them in stunned silence, having spoken his piece. Satisfaction made him walk taller, each step proud. Let the killers speak and plot of usurpers or death. He wanted no part in it. He’d help them with their task and do his part in ending the werebeast threat, but after that, he intended on striking out to reclaim what was lost.
Pharanx Gorg waited for the door to close before saying, “I think I’m going to like that man.”
Kavan found Mabane sitting alone in the mess. A plate of half-eaten roasted desert lizard sat before him, accompanied by a still full mug of ale. Mabane spied him coming and stiffened reflexively. This was a moment when he needed to be alone.
“Strong words,” Kavan said as he sat.
Mabane shrugged. “I said what needed saying.”
“There are too few men like that in the world.”
“I don’t care about your crusade, Kavan. The moment this is ended, you’ll never see me again.”
Kavan sighed. “It’s not my crusade. Destiny handpicked us all. We are the agents of the gods, for good or bad. That’s not why I’m here.”
“What reason, then?”
“Something wrong with your ale?” Kavan asked.
Mabane cut off a laugh. “This is piss water.”
They sat in silence for a moment. One struggled with what to say while the other tried to find a way to avoid the conversation entirely.
“I know what it means to lose everything,” Kavan finally spoke. “A family. A home. My people had it all taken from us. Folk talk about how evil we were, how corrupt. In truth, we Gaimosians were just like the rest of you. We only wanted to be left alone.”
“This qualifies as being left alone?” Mabane mocked.
“There will come a day when the hatred fades, when the vengeance in our souls doesn’t burn so bright. You lost your arm and your best friend. Hundreds more lost their lives, for what? So a crazed king can sit there and feel good about himself because he believes he’s doing the right thing?” He shook his head. “This is a world that cares nothing about people like us, Mabane. You know that, though you may have forgotten it. All we can do is try to make it a little better in the time we are allotted. That’s it, nothing more. In the end, we all turn to dust.”
Kavan rose to leave. He made it to the door before Mabane’s weak voice stopped him. “Kavan?”
He turned.
“Thank you.”
Kavan nodded. “Enjoy your piss water.”
“They’re moving at last,” Pharanx confirmed.
It was already midmorning. Tension filled Kalad Tol. All of them had been in battles before, but waiting for a siege to begin inspired thoughts of desertion. Even the Gaimosians began to feel the pinch of being trapped.
“The hunters are en route to the ruins. Moncrieff should be here by dusk.”
Kavan stared out across the supple, rolling hills of northeastern Aradain. It was so unlike the bog-mired south. He could almost see this as home. “Do we know how large his army is?”
“My scouts say close to three thousand,” Wurz answered gruffly.
“Three thousand! This is suicide,” Mabane exclaimed.
Kavan swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “He’s right. We can’t possibly win against a force that size.”
Pharanx flashed a grin. Brown teeth gleamed. “You’d be surprised.”
“What do you have in mind?”
Kavan secretly hoped the Fist proved more capable against regular army soldiers than they did against a handful of Gaimosians. He passed Geblin a fleeting look. For his part, the Gnome seemed to accept their circumstances remarkably well.
Encouraged by the sudden uplift of spirits, Pharanx explained. “This fortress is old, with strong roots. We’ve inspected the walls, and it will take much to bring them down. I have two engineers in my command who have been tasked with reinforcing the outer structure.”
“That still doesn’t give us much support for holding off an entire army,” Aphere said.
Wurz scoffed. “We have a trick for that. Bastards will wish they never came against us.”
“It’ll take a dragon to beat them,” Barum commented.
Pharanx stood. His bronze skin and scar-covered muscle frame dominated the center of the room. “Follow me. I need to show you something.”
Geblin hopped down from his stool and fell in beside Kavan. He looked up and muttered, “If it’s a dragon, I’m going home.”
; The Gaimosians stood with mouths agape, still unsure of what they were looking at. Pharanx and his commanders stood beside them looking smug.
“As you can see, formidable, but not quite a dragon.”
Kavan found his voice first. “What are they? I’ve never seen such creatures.”
“They are called dactyls. Remnants from an earlier age, or so I’m told.”
The leathery creature nearest them craned an elongated head and studied them closely. It had large, intelligent eyes capable of seeing in almost a full circle. Three clawed fingers flexed at the ends of enormous wings.
“Where do they come from?” Aphere asked.
Pharanx caught her look, that impulsive desire to reach out and touch the orange tinged scales. He smiled as he reached out to stroke the dactyl’s neck. “They only bite if they think you’re food. But, alas, there is no place on these shores for them. They come from across the sea, on the island of Chrysrar. A tribe of men called Tamers raise and breed them within a dormant volcano.”
Aphere followed his lead and tentatively stretched her hand out. The dactyl squawked and twisted it’s head. “How did you find them?”
“He likes you,” Pharanx smiled. “I hired a trader to take us across the sea. A quality organization such as ours is always looking for new prospects. The price was steep, but it balanced out. They are invaluable in terms of aerial reconnaissance and attacks.”
Kavan looked up sharply. “That would explain how you managed to track us so easily.”
“Tricks of the trade. Mercenaries need every possible advantage.”
“They are most certainly not tricks.”
They looked past the dactyl to see a tall man, thin and gaunt, with skin the color of coal and long braids of hair. His accent was so thick, it was difficult to understand.
“Ah,” Pharanx said. “This is M’kele. He is our Tamer expert. They wouldn’t part with their precious beasts without a permanent presence among us. M’kele maintains them as best he can, given the circumstances.”
“I do not approve your designs, Captain,” M’kele snapped.
“Those being?” Kavan asked.
“Aside from the terror factor? My men can rain spears and arrows down on the enemy long before they approach the castle. We have twenty-four more dactyls awaiting my command in a makeshift camp a league east of here.”
“It will take more than spears and arrows to break an army so large,” Kavan replied. Skepticism overrode his growing sense of optimism.
Pharanx said, “Leave that to us. By the time our task is done, the enemy shall fear us until their dying day.”
Kavan doubted that would be the case but knew when to keep his opinion to himself. He’d been around a long time but could still be caught by surprise every once in a while. Besides, he had more important issues to deal with. The armies of Aradain were only half of the whole issue. Eglios could throw his forces against these ancient walls all he wanted, but as long as the ruins of Gessun Thune remained exposed, all of Malweir lay in danger.
Pharanx continued, “We have enough projectiles to hold them off, and my men are ready for payback. This will be a glorious battle sung for decades. And with a handful of Gaimosian Knights at our side, how can we lose?”
“We can’t stay,” Kavan told him. “I’d like to, but we’ve been set to task. This battle is the sideshow. We’ve got to reach the ruins and stop the greater evil.”
“That is…regrettable. You’ve proven your skill and prowess to us on more than one occasion. The men would benefit from fighting alongside you.”
“We’d be glad to do it. This kingdom has offered great insult. Eglios and his minister are like a plague upon the land. The oracle, however, was specific. We are the only ones who stand a chance at ending this turmoil.”
The mercenary captain folded his arms and nodded gravely. “A harsh task, indeed. Whatever support you need from us yours to ask.”
Kavan felt some of the tension leave. Allies now, the Fist could divert Aradain’s forces long enough to give the Gaimosians a fighting chance. Numbers were against them both, but the sliver of hope refused to fade.
“My thanks,” he said.
“When do you plan on leaving?” Pharanx pressed.
Kavan exhaled a breath he’d forgotten he was holding. “Only four days remain before the eclipse. We must be in Gessun Thune before then.”
“What then?”
Kavan stopped, the question catching him off guard. The oracle had told them to go to the ruins but never mentioned exactly how they were supposed to stop the enemy from releasing the dark gods. He doubted the task would be so simple as killing the man responsible. He admitted, “I don’t know.”
“Oracles are tricky business. Damned things can’t come out and say what needs saying.”
“Agreed,” Aphere cut in. She alone bore the burden of the oracle’s prophecy.
Clasping Kavan’s shoulder, Pharanx said, “Trust the oracle. You may well be the hope of us all. Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to take a swipe at the bastard, though.”
“That didn’t turn out so well,” Aphere added.
Kavan grinned at the memory. “We can’t risk getting trapped here when Aradain arrives. We must leave as soon as possible.”
“Tonight. Once the sun sets. How many men will you need?”
Kavan hadn’t expected the offer but readily accepted. “Two or three should suffice.”
“What?” Aphere exclaimed.
Pharanx laughed again. “You are mad, my friend.”
Kavan defended himself. “No. It makes sense. We stand a better chance of slipping in undetected now that the hunt has begun. There’s no call for drawing attention.”
Wurz reluctantly grunted. “Makes sense.”
Turning to Geblin, Kavan asked, “I’m afraid you’re going to have to stay here. Eglios is look for a group traveling with a Gnome. We can’t risk it. I’m sorry.”
Geblin spat on the ground. “Just as well. I’ve grown tired of your company.”
“I’ll stay with him,” Barum announced. “My bow is no good in a cavern. They need it more here. Besides, someone needs to keep an eye on Geblin.”
“Bah!”
Aphere cast a sharp, concerned gaze to Barum. While she approved of the man he was becoming, she couldn’t help but fret over his decision. Odds were decidedly not in their favor and, more than likely, he was going to wind up dead. She tried, and failed, to ignore the pain deep in her heart.
“We’re all crazy, you know that right?” Pharanx asked. “Chances are good we’ll all be dead by the time tomorrow ends. But you never know. This just might work.”
Kavan nodded. The notion of splitting forces sat ill with him, weighing heavily against the oracle’s words. All were meant to play a part, but what that part was remained to be discovered. Kavan knew the others were meant to stay. It felt right. “It’s settled. We leave at dusk. May the gods smile down on us all.”
FORTY-NINE
Partings
“Why do you have to go?” Phirial asked through her sobs.
Kavan was suddenly uncomfortable. He’d never been in such a position and had no idea how to react accordingly. He felt warmth at the thought of having her close. Her smile never failed to dazzle. A host of answers went through his head. Deciding which was appropriate was elusive. Phirial was bright, enjoyable to be around. She wasn’t a warrior. Her only exposure to violence had been the cowardly murder of her father.
He uneasily wrapped his arm around her shoulders and held her close. “Sometimes, a man’s life is not his own.”
“That’s an escape, not an answer,” she snapped back.
“What do you expect me to say?” he countered. “I have no land, no people, no kingdom. I have nothing but this sword.”
Phirial looked up through tear-filled eyes. “You have a choice. All men have a choice.”
“I wish that were true.”
His voice trailed off to a whisper. Free will. He’d not
had the luxury of such since Gaimos fell. The very genes in his blood demanded obedience to steel. His was a life of battle and discontent. Nothing that man nor woman said would ever change that. She clutched him even tighter, afraid that, if she let go, she’d lose him forever. It was at that moment that Kavan made up his mind. He maneuvered them over to the simple cot in the far side of the room and sat her on the edge. He almost lost himself looking into her deep, warm eyes.
“There are things about me you don’t know. Things you wouldn’t want to know.”
Kavan took her silence as a sign to continue.
“Phirial, I’ve not lived a good life. When I think of all the men I’ve killed, all of the families I’ve broken, I wonder how I’ve managed to live with myself for so long. This is not a friendly world. Evil and malice corrupt our souls. A greater truth has never been more evident. There was a saying amongst my people once, long ago. We called it the howl of the wolf. Have you heard this?”
She shook her head.
He continued, “It is a call to arms. An answer to wrongs committed. Every time Gaimos went to war or drew swords, we answered the howl of the wolf. So it is again. A terrible darkness threatens us all. This is not a battle any army can fight. Instead, a handful have been chosen.”
“You and the others,” she offered.
“Aye. Chosen by the Oracle of Wenx. Five of us were chosen to perform a deed none of us know. It seems the gods have deemed the sons of Gaimos have more to do.”
Phirial drew back. “You say five, but there are only four.”
Kavan felt a stab of pain in his heart. “We haven’t seen or heard from Pirneon since arriving in Rantis. I fear he has fallen.” He omitted telling her of the bond. Some matters were too private.
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