Hammers in the Wind

by Christian Warren Freed

  Badron caught himself fanning the briefest flicker of a new dream. The dawn flared hotly in his imagination’s eye. He stood upon the break of the wave as it drowned his enemies all in the name of holy vengeance. Rogscroft would be the beginning of his ascendency to the throne of the world. Badron the Invincible they would call him. Every citizen of that wretched town would be a slave to his whim. Stelskor and his kin would be wiped from the memory of Malweir.

  Amar Kit’han flashed a fanged smile deep within the comforting shadows. “You begin to see the truth of my words.”

  “Yes,” came Badron’s whispered reply.

  Kodan Bak remained unimpressed. “He is not what our masters seek. He does not have the strength to become one of us. There is weakness in his heart.”

  “Us? There are more of you?” Badron suddenly asked.

  “We were once a large order, close to becoming an empire. But that was long ago. Time has been unkind to us.”

  Badron felt the veil of fear slowly dissolving. He had no desire to become one of these hideous manifestations, whatever they were, but saw there was opportunity here. A chance to fulfill the dreams once set for his son. He smiled. Anything to keep his legacy alive. Badron found new strength and rose. The greater part of his mind begged caution, but that voice was strained, distant. Curiosity edged closer. He had to know more. Desire tickled his veins.

  The subtle transformation did not go unnoticed. Amar Kit’han watched with rapt fascination. He was amused at how easily the king had fallen under the sway of their arguments. To be fair, the outcome was never in doubt. Aging men like Badron tended to do anything to hold on to power for one more sunset. All it took was the proper sort of manipulation.

  “All we ask is for a little of your time,” Amar pressed.

  “Time?” Badron asked skeptically. “What is time to a self-described immortal? I would think you immune to its trappings.”

  “We suffer from certain… limitations.”

  “Kill him now, Amar. Be done with this sad waste of flesh,” Kodan bit. His patience was expired.

  Amar Kit’han spun on him. The shadows swirled fiercely around him. Violent energy played dangerously off of the walls, chipping paint and spreading cracks through the structure. Badron was forced to steady himself as the two ethereal monsters readied to battle. “Speak again and it will not be pretty.”

  Kodan Bak withdrew deeper into his shadows and retreated to the corner of the room. A low animal growl accompanied the glare of pale eyes.

  Amar returned his attention to Badron. “The time has come for your decision. My masters need your answer.”

  Badron thought long. There were far too many variables for him to comprehend being put on the spot like this. His mind swirled. All his life he’d believed fate held something special for him. Was this to be the catalyst? The king swallowed hard, his decision made.

  “You speak of time. Time involves action. What is it you expect of me?” he asked.

  “Only what you already desire. Attack the kingdom of Rogscroft. Raze the very walls to the ground,” Amar replied smoothly. The Dae’shan drank in the power of the words. They were intoxicating, addictive.

  Badron fought back a derisive snort. “There must be more. I am no fool.”

  “Indeed there is. It involved the men you sent to bring back your daughter.”

  “My daughter? She is nothing to me, a liability perhaps but no more. Those men are expendable.”

  “None the less, they pose a danger to your success. Among them is an agent who would bring about your ruin. Your brother incites them to rebellion.”

  Brother. Badron’s heart lurched. There seemed no secret these devils could not discover. He began to find the truth in Kit’han’s words. Sudden anger twisted his thoughts. Bahr. Why was that man such a nuisance? Badron decided it was long past time he dealt with his meddlesome brother. Amar Kit’han offered the means.

  “What do you suggest I do?” he asked.

  Amar smiled unseen. Thin tendrils swirled around the Dae’shan in tender embrace. “Detain them under the auspice of being traitors. Use it as a further cause for war. Execute them publicly and you will cement the validity of your actions.”

  The king shook his head. “Surely not all are traitors. Lord Harnin recruited them himself.”

  “Think clearly, King. Your brother has had weeks to subvert their minds. More than enough time to twist their thoughts until no shred of loyalty remains. Not one of them can be trusted.”

  Badron rubbed his chin thoughtfully. The future was his. He only needed to play it right to reap the benefits. Everything lay with Bahr. He regretted not killing his brother years ago.

  “How can I contact you again?” he asked.

  “One of our Order will find you when the time is right.”

  He snorted again. “I take no comfort in your secrecy. How many are there of your kind?”

  “Four, king of Delranan. Just four.”

  The shadows thickened and Badron suddenly found himself alone.

  “Will he obey?” Kodan Bak asked before Amar had finished materializing from the darkness.

  “I can foresee no reason otherwise. Damaged souls are always the easiest to manipulate.” He paused. “You did well. He believes there to be division between us. That will drive him closer to our masters’ will.”

  Kodan bowed. “I live to obey.”

  Amar Kit’han stared back at Chadra Keep. “We must move quickly. There is much to be done if King Badron is to be convinced properly.”

  “King,” Kodan spat. “These mortals cling to lofty titles well beyond their station. It is pathetic. We waste our time with them.”

  “The masters will end humanity’s lethargy once they are freed.”

  “Much depends on this one man. Such tactics have been done before and have all failed. This is a dangerous game you have begun.”

  Amar agreed. “We are naught but the playthings of the gods in the end. It is they who decide fate, not us.”

  They walked on in silence, carefully avoiding a patrol or group of drunken townsfolk. Dark dreams haunted their every step. Some called them damned, others cursed. Neither living nor dead, the Dae’shan did as they always had. They scoured Malweir at their masters’ bidding.

  “What is our next move?” Kodan Bak asked.

  “To Thrae. It is time to incite the Goblins to go to war.”

  “Against whom?” he asked.

  Amar Kit’han enjoyed the fire of rage in his eyes. “The entire northern region. Only then will the masters be strong enough to break free.”

  “Then Malweir will burn.”

  Neither of them noticed the pale-faced man gaping at them from shadows of his own.

  TWENTY-THREE

  Lord Argis hurried past the Dae’shan without so much as a glance. His mind was focused. His chest was near bursting with information that needed to be told. A foreboding consumed him. He was more worried now than ever before. War was fast approaching, or worse. Argis felt himself slowly slipping into that foul place he often feared to go. Pulling his cloak tighter to fight off the cold wind, he hurried off into the city and to the ones who needed to know.

  A pair of older men emerged from a side street. Covering down on both sides, they fell into step. Each wore haggard looks, as if they had done this too many times. Their clothes were poor cloth, boots ragged. A second pair, this time much younger and violent looking, fell in behind. The cold wooden handles of truncheons poked from beneath their heavy overcoats. They eyed Argis with undisguised contempt. Argis continued walking.

  “Come with us,” the man on his right said.

  The air was chill. The first winter storm was already working down from the roof of the world. Soon it would expend fury on Delranan. Winter, however, had nothing to do with the icy fingers dancing down his spine. They moved with purpose, as eager to be by the warmth of a fire as they were to conduct the necessary business. Armed patrols continued throughout the city. Argis knew there wasn’t
much danger until a patrol decided that five odd and armed men were a potential threat. After that the entire garrison would be down upon them.

  They finally arrived at a small cottage on the far side of town. The soft glow coming from the frosted window suggested warmth and hospitality. Argis welcomed the ideas, all the while knowing what awaited. Those he came to meet would be anything but happy. They would listen to his tale and take his words with a measure of cynicism. No one would be willing to accept him on face value. He was a valuable member of Badron’s inner council. Just because he was here now did not mean much. A thousand soldiers might easily be awaiting his signal. Argis steeled himself for the scrutiny and followed the first man inside as the younger men took up guard positions near the door.

  Four men and two women stood in a half circle around an old table. Layers of dust coated the aged pine. A broken mug rested beside a pile of melted candle wax. Argis looked down at the small black and yellow spider stalking across, oblivious of the greater importance going on around it. The rest of the cottage was bland, as empty of life as it was of a lived-in feel. This was one of the many safe houses established throughout Chadra by the Delranan underground movement.

  He met the gazes of his judges without shame. They were farmers, peasants. None posed a significant threat to the king until they combined with the thousands of dissatisfied citizens across the kingdom. Each of those assembled thanked the Fates for the providence of having one of Badron’s own in their council, for the king was a violent and unforgiving man. Death awaited them all should he learn of their identities. Fortunately, none of the safe houses had yet been discovered.

  Argis stood before the informal council and bowed his greetings. Shadows and firelight clashed across the background, alternating concealing parts of their faces and placing them in vivid view. None of that mattered to him. He didn’t particularly care who these people were. Their lives were not as important as his. Separately they meant nothing. It was their combined presence that had the potential to change things.

  The eldest of the council struck a metal-tipped staff on the dirty wooden floor three times in quick succession. The murmur circling the council died off. Silence gripped the room, as if emphasizing the ominous portent tomorrow held. They stared hard at Argis, judging him before he opened his mouth. Suspicious guilt played in their eyes. As a senior ranking leader of the kingdom, he was unused to such treatment. It comforted and chilled him. Here he was just another face, another asset in a growing struggle.

  “No names shall be spoken,” the elder announced.

  His voice was dry and cracked as he spoke. The years had not been kind. His skin was old and wrinkled, dried from prolonged exposure to the harsh northern elements. Argis recognized him for the farmer he was. Surprisingly, this farmer commanded a power comparable to that of King Badron himself. If only Badron was able to surmise the goings-on under his very nose, Argis mused.

  “There shall be no names,” echoed the others, Argis included.

  The soft cackle of burning wood was the only sound for a time. Argis felt as if he were being measured.

  “What news do you bring this late in the night?” the elder asked once he was satisfied all was in proper order.

  Argis cleared his throat. “I have come before you to warn of a grave danger.”

  The council murmured again. A look of latent concern spread across their aged faces.

  A dark-haired female asked, “What possible danger? We know that the king assembles the Wolfsreik and prepares for war.”

  “His war is of minimal concern for us,” said a redheaded man, one of the town smiths.

  The woman agreed. “Badron will make his war. Nothing we do will have an effect on it. Surely there must be more?”

  Argis wished there wasn’t. “It is not Badron’s war that need concern us. The danger I speak of is far more sinister. I have been witness to a new darkness this night.”

  “You speak in riddles,” the elder stated. “These nights have all grown dark over the past few weeks. Speak plainly.”

  “I saw two creatures, not of Delranan, perhaps not of Malweir. They moved as if in water, more gliding than walking. I do not know what to make of them other than they had an ill presence and spoke in whispers of the end of the world.”

  “Perhaps they were shades of the dead,” the redhead suggested.

  “No,” Argis argued. “I have seen shades before. They neither speak nor plot. These did both. I felt a great malice surging off of them, as if they were the definition of evil.”

  The council remained unconvinced.

  “Danger you say. The only danger in Delranan is the will of the king,” the elder replied. “It is that matter which has drawn us together in purpose and intent.”

  “You would discount my words so quickly without hearing me fully?”

  Argis struggled to bite back on his rising anger. He was a councilor to a king and unaccustomed to being dismissed. Still, he needed these people if there was even the slightest chance of saving the kingdom from tearing itself apart in civil war. He let his humility take control and folded his hands over his belt.

  The elder spread his hands in a futile gesture. “Very well. Tell us of these strange creatures that have you so spooked.”

  Argis drew a deep breath, still unsure exactly what he had seen. He did not know how to convey the sheer dread they inspired and was left with a sickly feeling in the marrow of his bones.

  “They walked as men but were wreathed in shadow. I could see through them. Delranan is in grave danger. I overhead them speak of a private meeting with the king. They spoke of going to Thrae next to incite the Goblin clans. It is as if they are behind this war. I do not pretend to understand how this is so, but it was enough to spark terror in my heart. I fear for us all.”

  “If what you say is true our task to recover Princess Maleela must be considered secondary.”

  It was the woman’s turn to disagree. “This conspiracy exists for the sake of the princess. She is our concern.”

  “Can’t you people see? These creatures are using us to start a war. They whispered something of their masters. They are clearly working for some higher power. We must discover the truth in this and figure out a way to stop them before Badron dooms us to a course of action from which there is no return.”

  “But the princess?” the woman protested.

  Argis slammed a fist into his palm. “She is beyond any of us! Our trust must fall to Prince Aurec now. Pray he and his father can keep her safe.”

  “From the Wolfsreik?” scoffed the redhead.

  “They have never been beaten,” the elder reminded.

  Argis himself had once been a proud member of the vaunted army. He knew their strengths and weaknesses and was smart enough to realize that no level of insurrection was capable of staying the killing blow once the campaign began.

  “No they haven’t. Nor are we capable of doing such at this time,” he said.

  The elder blinked rapidly. “What then makes you assume the people of Rogscroft will stand a better chance?”

  “They have an army,” he replied, some of the hotness leaving him. “They have the ability to turn the war against the Wolfsreik. We would be slaughtered for the peasants we are in the span of a single night.”

  “Wouldn’t this war be considered a good thing?” asked another man, a youth who had remained silent until now.

  “In what way?” the elder asked.

  “They won’t think of looking for us if they are busy fighting a war. We can save the princess and finally overthrow Badron.”

  Argis grimaced. They were missing the point. All of his talk of monsters and dark forces was wasted on limited minds.

  The elder sensed this as well. “Forgive our young counterpart. I fear he still suffers from the delusions of youth. Regardless of the Wolfsreik, we are faced with a grave decision. If what you say is true, our enemies may have doubled. You are close to the king. We need you to watch for any significant chan
ges. His actions over the next few days may give us a clue as to his intentions.”

  Argis knew he had already lost the argument. Clenching his teeth, he stood motionless. “Very well, but I leave you with caution. These dark things will be back and we are unprepared to stop them. I pray your inaction will not be the death of us all.”

  Argis drew his cloak about his shoulders and stormed from the cottage. The fools, he cursed. They were so preoccupied with their petty rebellion they weren’t willing to see the bigger picture. Argis was sickened with premonitions of disaster. He was angry and seemingly alone. He’d made his decisions and was now forced to live with them. Unfortunately, he doubted anyone else was willing to see matters through. That left him stuck.

  There was no going back to Harnin or Badron, although it would be easy to betray the rebellion and be labeled a hero. That didn’t remove the fact that he had been the one to leave the secret passage open for Aurec to sneak inside Chadra Keep. Not only that, but he was the one who had slain Badron’s son. That sin he would take to the grave. It also stood to reason that if Badron was in league with these monsters so too was Harnin. Argis scowled within the confines of his hood. Delranan was in jeopardy. His life was insignificant compared to that of his kingdom.

  A cock crowed off in the dying night. It was time to return to the Keep and attend the king. Argis stalked off, eager to return before suspicions were raised.

  King Badron awoke unexpectedly for the second time this night. His head was pounding, much like the nights he’d overindulged on wine with his captains. When he moved he found his entire body was sore. Perhaps it was the after effects of his meeting with the Dae’shan. The thought of them made him tremble.

  “My lord, are you all right?”

  He opened his eyes, shielding them from the sudden burn of sunlight. “Harnin?”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Badron groaned. “What time is it?”