“Perhaps just a little, though what I say is largely true. The power of thought, one of our most basic freedoms, is also a bane. Too much thinking lets a man believe he can do anything. With some it works within the scope of their boundaries, but with others it pushes them into acts of desperation. It is those men who need watching.”
The soft crackle of flames soothed the boy.
After giving Skuld time to think on it, Anienam playfully asked, “You’re not one of those men who need watching, are you?”
Skuld smiled sheepishly. “No. At least I don’t think so.”
“Good. I would have hated to turn you into a toad.”
He laughed, finally.
“Does what we are doing matter?” Skuld asked suddenly.
“That depends on how you mean.”
Skuld shook his head. “I don’t know. This doesn’t feel right, Anienam. I feel like we are being pushed into a task for someone else. It bothers me.”
Anienam passed a worried glance. The boy is quick, he thought. He just might make a decent Mage.
“Between you and me, we are caught up in a war of beliefs. Some here in Venheim might argue that the gods have designs on each of us, but aren’t strong enough to deal with matters themselves.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it really doesn’t, which makes what we have to do all the more important. The fate of Malweir might actually rest on our shoulders. Boen should enjoy that,” he added as an afterthought.
Skuld forced another laugh, much more strained than before.
“Think no more on this. There is no point in worrying about matters beyond our control,” Anienam said and gently slapped Skuld’s knee. “Now come on, we are leaving soon and I absolutely deplore traveling on an empty stomach.”
* * * * *
Joden stepped back, admiring his handiwork. The hammer was the finest tool he had ever wrought. Dark iron absorbed rather than reflected light. It was powerful enough to meet the dark times. Tight leather straps provided the grip on the handle, strong and reliable for use in combat. Archaic runes were etched into the head, giving it strength, power. The old Giant set the weapon down, lost deep in thought. It was going to take much for Groge to survive the quest for the Blud Hamr. Joden wished the wizard had come a hundred years ago. The forge master would have leapt at the opportunity to become history. Rather than lose himself to fanciful dreams that would never come true, Joden turned to Groge.
“This hammer,” he began, “has not been named. I had planned on doing so if I were ever summoned to great purpose. Fate, it seems, has given that task to you.”
“I am honored, forge master,” Groge replied.
He hesitated before accepting so great a gift. He certainly had no claim on such grand creation. Groge was just an apprentice and unworthy. He had earned no honor.
“May you use this hammer only in the darkest hour,” Joden said as he took up the hammer and passed it to young Groge.
“Then I pray I never have to use it.”
The forge master nodded at the answer. He rose. “It is time.”
The old Giant led the way back to the central square where the rest of the band of would be heroes awaited. Dozens of Giants were gathered as well. Blekling and his group of sycophants stood in the center. A perpetual sneer twisted his face. His mistrust of their guests heightened since Bahr went against his wishes three nights ago. No strangers had come to Venheim for centuries and he wished to keep it so. Man was a prejudiced beast incapable of true understanding. They killed what they didn’t understand, eradicated what they couldn’t fathom. Blekling saw his world crumbling even further and vowed to arrest that progress before Venheim became a true legend.
Joden stopped before the warden of Venheim and offered a curt bow. “The Chosen is prepared to undertake his journey and find glory in the name of the gods.”
“Is he?” Blekling asked. He rapped his heavy iron staff on the ice-covered ground three crisp times. “Step forward, Groge of the Barish clan.”
Mighty hammer strapped across his wide back, Groge obeyed.
“What is going on?” Dorl whispered.
Nothol shrugged. “Beats me. Looks like more song and dance keeping us from getting on.”
Anienam passed them a menacing glance.
The Giant elder continued. “Do you understand what is being asked of you?”
“I do.”
“Long have our people been the custodians of the secrets of steel. Entrusted by the gods, we have protected that secret here in the highest peaks of the world. Today you embark upon a sacred quest to retrieve the Blud Hamr. Only this weapon has the power to defeat the rising power of the dark gods. Darkness will consume Malweir should you fail. Are you prepared to devote your life, if need be, to the completion of the quest?”
“I am.”
“Then go with the blessings of the gods and those of your people.” His final words were spoken with venom. Clear disdain was etched across his broad face.
Groge took his place beside Bahr. The company was now complete.
Blekling turned to the Sea Wolf. “I do not expect to see you again. This quest will be dangerous and worse. Know this, should you by chance succeed, you and your kind are not welcome to return to Venheim.”
“That’s a shame. I was just picturing where my new home would look best,” Boen answered gruffly.
The Gaimosian in him begged for a fight. It took much for him to refrain from lashing out at the nearest Giant and issue the challenge.
Blekling fumed, even as Joden struggled to conceal his amusement. The forge master almost admired the smaller Gaimosian. Red-orange glow from nearby forges painted the village, almost making it seem serene and majestic.
“Be gone from here!” Blekling all but shouted and stalked off.
Dorl Theed clicked his lips together. “Huh. He’s not the sort to be invited to a party, is he?”
“No. I don’t think he plays well with others,” Nothol agreed.
Joden moved next to Bahr. “Not all of us are as closed as Blekling. The well wishes of all good people go with you. Bring back the hammer and end the threat of the dark gods for good.”
Bahr nodded crisply. “Thank you.” He turned to his companions. “Let’s go, it’s time for us to leave.”
The old man swung into his saddle and started to leave. He’d taken all he could of the Giants and their outdated ways. Still, the experience left him with conflicting emotions. Hinder or help, the Giants were divided. The prospect of using the Blud Hamr was clearly more important than he gave credit for. Well, Bahr thought, I have no time for that. What had begun as a personal quest to rescue his niece quickly devolved into a nightmare. He still wasn’t sure how he got involved with saving the world. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either.
He glanced over at Maleela and wondered if he was doing the right thing.
* * * * *
High above, the three Hags stirred awake. Stretching their dark wings, they watched the tiny band of heroes amble out of Venheim. They stretched legs and arms, loose feathers drifting lazily down. Hours of inactivity left them cold and hungry. Claws flexed and clenched repeatedly. Sharp eyes strained to make out distinct individuals. The hunt would soon begin anew.
Freina watched the wagon roll with casual interest. She’d been contracted to prevent the old one from reaching Trennaron, but her heart wasn’t in it. Her only concern was perpetuating her species. So very few of them remained.
“Do we hunt?” Brom asked. Her scratchy voice reminded Freina of two swords scraping together.
Freina looked to each of her sisters. Both seemed eager to be underway.
“Yes,” she replied.
“Finally.”
As one the Harpies took flight. The hunt had begun.
THIRTY-SEVEN
A New Hope
Brackish mists swirled around a glade of muck and refuse, surrounded by trees long decayed. Three figures emerged from the blackest shadows.
Robed and cowled, the memories of their mortal lives nothing more than fractured nightmares haunting pathetic existences, they remained hidden from themselves. The powers of the dark gods twisted them into the foulest creatures. The Dae’shan were finally assembled. Lidless eyes stared from their cowls.
Amar Kit’han regarded his peers with unveiled animosity. Neither would hesitate to assassinate him the moment he no longer proved useful, or showed a decided lack of power. His authority was the only thing keeping him alive and he wondered if it was enough. The notion of removing the others slowly came into play. Kodan Bak was easily the most aggressive. His lust for power rivaled Amar’s though he lacked clarity of vision. Pelthit Re, however, was more devious. Often tending to work alone, Pelthit enacted plans within plans, sometimes contradictory to what the overall group strived towards.
“You play a dangerous game, Pelthit Re.”
Re hissed. “No more than you. I do only what our masters wish of me.”
“The kingdom of Delranan has already fallen to us,” Kodan Bak agreed. “As has Rogscroft. We are succeeding at last.”
“Delranan is not yet ready. There is still too much strength left in Men,” Pelthit insisted darkly. “Much needs to be done to break them properly.”
Amar Kit’han was not convinced. “What of the daughter of Badron? She may yet prove our undoing. The Hags tell me she travels with a knight.”
“I have met this knight. She should prove no problem,” Pelthit replied.
“Can we be sure?”
“No more than any of us.”
But could he be sure? Amar considered their position. A band of mortals, now accompanied by a Giant, was heading south on a quest to retrieve the fabled Blud Hamr. The one weapon capable of defeating the dark gods forever. With them was a knight of the supposedly vanquished holy Order, though the band remained ignorant of her true purpose. The situation was proving much too close for his comfort. Now was the time to act, and he had but one option.
“I believe it is time for us to return to Trennaron,” he told them.
“For?” Kodan Bak asked.
“Artiss Gran must remember where he came from.”
Pelthit Re snarled. “Traitor. He is no longer one of us.”
“He turned his back on us long ago. Death would be too kind.”
Amar shook his head. “Irrelevant. He will soon know the power of our full hatred. Gran must be neutralized if we have hope of succeeding.”
“There are but one hundred days left before the thousand years are expired.”
“Going to Trennaron is pointless,” Kodan said suddenly.
The others turned to him. “What do you mean?”
“Artiss Gran is no longer one of us. He is weak, incapable of properly defending the Hamr. The three of us traveling so far would only leave the north open for our enemies to regroup. We would be vulnerable again for no reason.”
“He is a threat unchecked. Don’t be so foolish as to believe Gran lacks power because he abandoned us,” Re snapped. “I agree with Amar. We must go and kill him.”
“No,” Amar said unexpectedly. “Kodan Bak may be correct. We cannot kill Gran, for he is still one of us. Only our masters can finish him. Perhaps we should focus on the wizard and his disciples. Kill them and the hammer is useless.”
“The Hags will hunt them down, but they are only Harpies. Vile creatures with little real strength,” Kodan cautioned. “They can track the wizard but will need assistance in dealing with him.”
“Leave that to me. Pelthit Re, return to Delranan and break the One Eye’s mind. Kodan Bak, you will stay here in Rogscroft and work on King Badron. Both are vital in the coming weeks.”
“Where will you be?” Pelthit Re asked. Suspicion twisted his tone. He floated up a few inches, hands crossed in front.
“I have business in the east. A new war brews and I must fan the flames to keep it from blowing out. Go now. I shall summon you when I need you again.”
The others drew their powers. The very air shimmered as if trying to escape. Darkness coalesced tightly as two Dae’shan folded in on themselves and disappeared, leaving Amar Kit’han alone. He smiled, the visage one of pure malevolence. One hundred days before their masters returned to take their rightful places as the masters of Malweir.
* * * * *
Artiss Gran stood atop the lone tower and watched as lightning wreathed the skies. The sky had turned a mottled purple, orange and black. His tired eyes witnessed the portents swirling around the sprawling fortress of Trennaron. Time was drawing to an end. Another cycle had almost reached conclusion. Yet unlike the ten times before, this time was different. Relevant heroes had stepped forward to challenge the rising tide of evil.
No stranger to dark times, the former Dae’shan struggled to comprehend the danger lurking just beyond reach. His brothers had lost their way, willfully succumbing to ever present desires and temptations. Artiss knew he should be sad, but couldn’t find the correct emotion. Their order once held so much promise. A glorious age had been envisioned shortly after their inception. Meant to maintain order, the Dae’shan then had roamed Malweir in search of corruption and overzealous righteousness. So much time had passed since their fall.
Malweir had never been a safe place. That level of insecurity worsened with time. Without the Dae’shan to ensure balance, the world plunged into perpetual nightmare. The Mages helped stave off the coming fires, for a time, but they, too, fell into shadow. Artiss wondered if this was simply the way fate meant it all to play out. He had lost hope, but never conviction. He turned to the primitive tribes of the jungle and developed them into great beings. Defenders and guardians had sprung from their ranks and helped keep the tentative balance in order. For a time.
That time was coming to an end. The final conflict was barreling towards them unchecked. Only a handful stood between doom and survival. Artiss wasn’t sure there was going to be any victor, even if the dark gods were finally defeated. The magic of creation was gone. An undying spark casually dimmed through misuse and wanton aggression. His soul ached for those unsuspecting across the face of the world who did not know the true depths of the horror approaching.
Artiss Gran rubbed his hands together. He had much to do before the heroes arrived. Much to do indeed.
END
Continue with Book Three of the Northern Crusade:
A Whisper After Midnight
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Other Novels by Christian Warren Freed
The Northern Crusade Series
Hammers in the Wind
Tides of Blood and Steel
A Whisper After Midnight
Empire of Bones
The Madness of Gods and Kings
Even Gods Must Fall
A History of Malweir Series
Armies of the Silver Mage
The Dragon Hunters
Beyond the Edge of Dawn
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