Hammers in the Wind

by Christian Warren Freed

  “Either way it will be dangerous. I’m more concerned about being cut off than fighting the Pell. Badron should have waited until spring.”

  Harnin couldn’t argue. Badron was no tactician. That should have been left to the army. What Rolnir didn’t know was the intricate details revolving around the king and Maleela, or even the reasons Delranan was going to war. Still, Harnin owed his friend if he expected the continued fealty of the Wolfsreik.

  “The initial plan was to invade once the snows melted, but circumstances demand otherwise. Princess Maleela, as I am sure you know, was abducted the same night the prince was killed. Matters have progressed sharply since.”

  Rolnir’s eyes widened. Of course rumors ran wild about that night, but none of the details had been confirmed to him until now. Harnin continued to explain the events of that long night in Chadra Keep and how the royal family was virtually wiped out in the span of a few moments. He naturally left out key details, all for the greater good of Delranan.

  Rolnir took it in stride. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard heart-stopping news. The royal family he’d been chartered with defending and blood sworn to protect was in ruins. The pain came from not being able to do much about it. He cursed his ill fortune for having been placed in such a dire situation.

  “I do not envy you,” Harnin added.

  In truth he didn’t. The Wolfsreik was trapped. They’d be destroyed if they moved too soon and damned if they moved too slowly to rescue the princess. Harnin debated telling his friend about the mission already underway but thought the better of it. There was always the slight chance of Rolnir not putting his heart into it if he knew that Bahr was taking a team by sea.

  Rolnir was unperturbed. He folded his arms across his chest. “This wasn’t the way I planned on ending my day. Tell the king we shall do everything we can to speed the process, though realistically we can only shave off a few days at the most.”

  “I understand.”

  “The enemy picked the right time of year to strike. One might even say the perfect time. They hold all the advantages,” he added suspiciously.

  “Rolnir, this is a difficult position for all of us. I will give your message to Badron and try to twist it so that it makes sense to him.”

  “Harnin, I understand his devotion to his blood, but I will not risk the lives of this army so casually. They are my first priority. Delranan will be left open to invasion should the Wolfsreik fail.”

  Harnin shifted uneasily. “Badron might not see the same point of view.”

  Rolnir shrugged. “All the same.”

  “Very well. Do what you must. The Wolfsreik must be battle ready if we are to have a future. Good hunting, old friend.”

  Rolnir walked back to his command tent. An uneasy feeling gnawed at the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t help but feel responsible for hurrying the certain death of the princess. On the same token, he wasn’t going to risk ten thousand lives for the sake of one. The decision was more difficult than any he’d had to make, but one that needed to be made soon.

  The pair of men rode into Chadra without a sound. Concealed beneath heavy wool cloaks the color of midnight, they eased past the sentries by the use of arcane and foul magic. These men did not exist. Both were creatures of another time, another plain of existence. No one in Malweir remembered their truth. Exactly as they, and their masters, desired.

  History named them demons. Shortsighted men who lacked the ability to know better scoffed at their mention and waved the notion off. Their origins remained a mystery to all but their masters. Both bore the guise of men, and were anything but. Only in times of dire importance did they manifest a physical form. Two rode into Chadra, but a total of four roamed the world.

  “Did you feel that?” asked the nearest guard after the non-men passed.

  His partner, trying desperately to stay warm beneath his bearskin cloak asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “The cold. I just felt a deep chill down to my bones.”

  He waived it off. “Shut up. You’re imagining things.”

  Neither noticed the riders continue on into the city. The shorter rider grimaced with disgust. Once clear, he turned to the taller one. “Why do you insist on dealing with these pathetic mortals?”

  “They serve their uses.”

  “They are vermin, unworthy of cleaning the streets of horse dung.”

  “Kodan, we need them if there is to be any chance of success.”

  Kodan Bak wasn’t so sure. He’d been alive for tens of thousands of years and had yet to find value in any species on Malweir. Perhaps it was a reminder of his own mortal days, before he’d become enslaved to the powers that now dominated his every thought and deed.

  Amar Kit’han slowly shook his head, the movement barely noticeable under the heavy hood. He was older, if just slightly, and used to the rash judgments of his counterpart. Not equals, the elder took Bak’s remarks with a grain of patience.

  “Our success has always hinged on these pathetic creatures. As have our failures. They are nothing more than blight upon the world. I do not understand what you continue to see in them,” Bak persisted.

  “We were once mortal ourselves.”

  Kodan snarled. “Those days are hardly memories.”

  “We all need to remember our beginnings.”

  It was the same argument they’d had for millennia. Neither managed to see the other’s point of view. Kodan Bak hated humanity, almost as much as he did every other mortal race on Malweir. He wished desperately to be able to finish his task so that he could return to the cold nothingness that managed to give him his only comforts. They’d spent far too long here already, despite feeling the long anticipated ending coming closer. He was the harbinger.

  EIGHTEEN

  Tension filled the night. Cuul Ol and a circle of Pell Darga warriors humbly surrounded young Prince Aurec of Rogscroft. Ancient hatreds threatened to boil over. It was only through the collected feelings of Cuul and Aurec that kept their men from tearing into each other as lightening danced across the distant mountaintops. Only the Pell war chief appeared calm. Aurec tried to match him, but knew he wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all himself. He had never been so close to the mythic warriors. All of their contact was done through men like Venten. Aurec watched the Pell closely. A combination of admiration and revulsion gripped him.

  Cuul took the opportunity to break the silence. “You are uneasy by our presence.”

  “I am more uncomfortable with how easily you managed to capture my two scouts,” he replied tersely.

  Aurec purposefully left out the fact that they were also his best scouts. Mahn was still on his horse, shoulders slumped forward in stark embarrassment. Raste was the opposite. Rage consumed him. There was no defeat in the hard eyes staring down at the Pell. Both were eager for redemption. The weight of their failure would be long lived if things went ill.

  Cuul ignored the barb. He hadn’t come to trade insults or inflame a smoldering war.

  “Not my concern, Prince of Rogscroft. I have come to you with grave tidings,” he continued.

  Aurec was unconvinced. “You didn’t mention this in our way west. My men said you were more than amiable to us but nothing else. What has become so important now that we are on our way home?”

  “New events. Prince Aurec, you stand on the cusp of eternal darkness. Certain enemies have returned to Malweir. Time is essential if they are to be defeated.”

  “Speak plainly please.”

  Cuul Ol stepped forward. Venten immediately drew back on his bow. Pell Darga hunters crouched, ready to attack each of the defenders. It was the cold, emotionless reaction that fueled their myth. There would be no pleasure in the killings. Only Mahn did not move. His eyes steeled against the possible threat as Raste drew his sword. The scout had been through worse and came out without a scratch. It was his example that inspired the others to stand down.

  “Put down your sword, Raste,” he said in a smooth voice.


  Raste’s eyes flew wide in disbelief. “Are you mad? I told you they wanted to kill us! And now you side with them?”

  “No one is killing anyone,” Mahn snapped back.

  Dawn was breaking. A thunderstorm was moving on. He was exhausted and more than a little cold and hungry. The only chance this problem was going to be solved was through direct confrontation.

  “Sheath your sword,” he repeated. “That goes for all of you.”

  “They want to kill us, Mahn. That’s what they have always wanted.”

  Mahn lost his patience and snapped, “Why haven’t already? Answer me.”

  It was true. Raste looked around, surprised to see that only the Rogscroft men were actually prepared to fight with drawn steel. It didn’t make sense. The Pell had been hunting them since the lowlands and now they had the prince at a disadvantage. There would never be a more perfect time.

  Aurec’s voice broke the silence. “Do as Mahn says. Everyone lower your weapons. There is no danger here. I wish to hear what Cuul Ol has to say.”

  Aurec raised his hands ever so slightly, palms open. Times had changed in northern Malweir. Ancient savages and civilized Man suddenly found common ground. The rustle of clothing scraped against a tent caught their attention and all eyes turned to see Maleela step outside. She had dark circles under her eyes and her normally lustrous dark hair showed signs of being ragged. Mild shock registered as her gaze went from Aurec to the dark-skinned man standing before him.

  “Aurec, what…”

  Cuul smiled genuinely. “Ah, Princess Maleela. It is an honor.”

  “Who are you?” she stammered despite the warmth in his voice.

  He bowed and introduced himself. A thin hand went to her mouth. Pell Darga. Murdering savages who ate human flesh. She suddenly felt in more danger now than when she had been abducted. Her father’s wrath would see the mountains brought down for this should he find out. Cuul Ol saw her consternation and attempted to assuage her doubts.

  “Young Prince Aurec and I have business. No harm will come to you so long as you remain on our lands. You have my word.”

  She doubted that. “Can that stop my father’s hatred once he finds out where I am?”

  “We have met your Wolf soldiers in battle before. They do not frighten us. Their strength is on the open steppe, not our mountains. My people can hide you in places the world has forgotten. You are safe among us.”

  The words, well intentioned, had a hollow ring for a young woman fearful for her life. Maleela took no solace in them and silently contemplated the fate of yet another race. She felt responsible. Responsible for everything gone wrong. Perhaps it would have been better if she had died and her mother had lived. She scolded herself. This was not the behavior of a princess. She covered her doubts with a false smile and generously pulled the tent flap back.

  “Perhaps you and the prince would care to continue this conversation over the warmth of a fire? I am not as young as I look and the cold saps the strength from my bones. Please, accept our hospitality,” she said.

  Cuul Ol rubbed his hands together over the softly cackling fire. The smile on his face showed the jagged rows of teeth, broken and yellowed. The smile was one of simple joy. He was close to eighty summers old and felt it on nights such as this. The warmth of the fire was a pleasure he rarely partook in the field. His skin hung loose on his bones. Any fat he had long since burned away. What was once a full head of hair was now a mostly bald scalp complete with scars. He looked old. Worse, he felt it.

  “Winter always seems colder than the year before,” he said casually. His hard eyes never left the colors of the fire.

  Dancing flames reflected in them and for a moment Maleela had a sinister feeling, as if he were already plotting against them. Aurec concurred. Ill feelings began to take root, festering in the depths of his soul. They didn’t stem from being so close to the Pell chieftain, ancient enemy of a dozen races. They came from Cuul’s initial statements. Evil wasn’t uncommon. He could find a small measure in any man if he looked hard enough. But the evil Cuul Ol hinted at came with unsurpassed dread.

  “What evil did you speak of?” Aurec asked when he couldn’t stand the idle banter any longer.

  “It is a fell darkness come to steal the very soul of the world.”

  That didn’t help him. “What could possibly be so bad? We have all fought our share of wars and battled evil in one manner or another before. What makes this special?”

  Cuul Ol ran one of his leathered hands through the flames. “This story must be told from the beginning, back to a time before any of us were brought to live on Malweir. Back to a time of gods.”

  “We know this tale,” Maleela chimed in. “There was a war between the gods that ended with them all leaving Malweir.”

  Cuul nodded softly. “A student of history. Very good. However, there are parts of the tale you do not know. There was indeed a war, great and terrible. One that stretched across the stars and lasted countless eons. Neither side could win, so they created a force that is eternal. Unstoppable.”

  “What force?” Maleela asked hesitantly.

  The Pell chieftain’s eyes hardened. “The Dae’shan. Gods from both sides met secretly to create the Order. The Dae’shan shifted the balance. They were souls taken from various races. They were twisted into un-things. Neither good nor evil, they served the will of the gods.”

  Aurec rubbed his face in disbelief. “I don’t get it. Why have we never heard of them before? And if they aren’t good or evil how can they be the cause of this vision of yours?”

  A cold wind shuffled under the sides of the tent, infuriating the flames.

  “The war of the gods ended with the dark gods banished. The victors maintained the fallacy of believing their victory complete. They left Malweir to the races already here. We were free to make our own destinies. Malweir no longer had the spark the gods once dreamed. Time passed. People came to forget the gods, forget their origins. That is when the dark gods found a way to come back.”

  “History is filled with times they nearly broke free of their prison and returned to Malweir. Each time they have been stopped, but they get closer to their goal. The last attempt they managed to send the Dae’shan back. With no other gods to serve, the Dae’shan were seduced into the service of evil.”

  “What does that have to do with us?” Maleela asked. The hairs on her arms were on end.

  “The Dae’shan are corrupted. They serve the dark gods. With no balance, they have become evil. I have seen them in my dreams. Riders who offer ecstasy while only condemnation awaits.”

  Aurec began to put the full picture together, but there were too many holes. “If they have come to serve evil, why would they be concerned with us? Wouldn’t the Dae’shan be trying to open the paths to release the dark gods?”

  Cuul shook his head. “No. The time is not right. Only once in every thousand years are the paths between worlds open. There is still much to go before the next time. Malweir has only three known crossing points. None are in this part of the world. The Dae’shan have come for other purpose.”

  He fell silent, deep in thought. Until now the Dae’shan were but legend, much the same way his people were to the lowlanders. Cuul could not fathom why they had shown up here now, despite the knowledge of their being. The fierce warrior had never been as afraid as now.

  “Do you think they have come for us?” Maleela whispered.

  Tension strained her voice. The idea of the Dae’shan was enough to chill her blood.

  “I do not believe so, but it is hard to say. Who knows the will of the gods?”

  Aurec squinted, lost in thought. The majority of races had stopped believing in gods. Left to their own devices, many found no need for such firm obedience to a race that had abandoned them. Mothers no longer passed the lore down to their children.

  “How can you be certain they walk among us?” he asked.

  Cuul Ol stared the prince in the eye. “There are many forms of magic yet.
We each have dark secrets to keep.”

  “So they could easily be after you,” Maleela concluded.

  The Pell scowled. “They would not have gone to Chadra if they sought the Pell.”

  Stark terror sunk in. Chadra. Delranan. “Father!”

  “My heart tells me they have set the wheel in motion. Chadra is merely a beginning. A cog to their plans.”

  Truth be told, Cuul Ol was just as confused as they were. The return of the Dae’shan too conveniently timed with King Badron’s war. Why now? Why here? Questions without answers. The veil of shadow was too thick to peer through. Cuul knew the Pell lacked the resources to learn the answers. There was another solution.

  “Prince Aurec, it is said Rogscroft has one of the finest libraries in the north. Perhaps we may find the truth to this in your tomes.”

  “Yes. Ours is second only to the royal Averonian library in Paedwyn. I’m not so sure if the answers we seek are there or not. Up until now I had never even heard of these Dae’shan.”

  “You must go. My kind will be not accepted. Go to your great library and learn the truth. Only then will we be strong enough to combat them,” Cuul instructed.

  Aurec made a decision that would affect and haunt the rest of his life. “I will do what I can, but I cannot promise results.”

  “That is enough. We will do what we must on this side of the mountains. Tell your father that the Pell will stand with him against the Wolf soldiers, but we cannot fight the war for you. The enemy will make the crossing despite our best efforts. You must be prepared for siege.”

  “I understand,” Aurec answered.

  “Make no mistake, Prince of Rogscroft. Dark times are coming. We shall be in contact.”

  Cuul Ol slipped from the tent and moments later the Pell simply faded from the campsite. Venten blinked and didn’t even see them go. The mountain shadows seemed to swallow them.

  *****

  Mahn and Raste patrolled outside the tent; one was interested, the other angry. The older Mahn didn’t understand the situation any more than the rest, but he had a feeling in his gut that this meeting was a good thing. His horse snorted boredom, causing Mahn to reach up and pat his neck affectionately.