Hammers in the Wind

by Christian Warren Freed

  Shirsez grinned and went to gather his men.

  Aurec turned to Venten. “Do you think he can do it?”

  “I hope so.”

  Not the vote of confidence he was looking for. “And if not?”

  THIRTY-SIX

  Badron awoke to a chorus of shouts. The king threw on his heavy cloak, grabbed his sword and dashed outside. What he saw enraged him. It was if the underworld had erupted in his camp. Flames spread from tent to tent. Soldiers ran everywhere using anything they could to try and douse the flames.

  “What is going on here?” Badron roared.

  An armed guard stepped from the shadows. His sword had fresh blood dripping from it. “Sire, get back inside. It is not safe out...”

  A flaming arrow punched out the front of his throat in midsentence. The guard frothed blood and dropped dead at Badron’s feet. The king looked past the corpse as flight after flight of fire arrows whistled overhead.

  “King Badron,” Rolnir shouted from nearby. “Get back in your tent. You are only in the way out here.”

  Badron seethed at being told what to do. “Do not assume to command me.”

  Rolnir closed the distance in a blink and snatched the king by his collar. “You are in my way. I give the orders here, not you. Now, back inside, sire. Let me do my job or go find someone better.”

  He shoved Badron off and stormed back into the inferno. The king stood alone in his shock as the battle raged.

  Dawn was not kind. Rolnir, going off of only two hours of sleep, sat brooding outside of the command tent as the coffee brewed. Just one day in enemy territory and he had lost more than a hundred men. Doubt gnawed away. What am I doing wrong? Yes, this was war, but he had been prepared for it. Hadn’t I? Worse, he was now expected to go before his king with answers he simply did not have.

  “It wouldn’t do for the men to see their commanding general having such deep moments with himself. They’ll start to talk, you know.”

  Rolnir kicked out a stool for Piper to sit on. He couldn’t help but smile. “Didn’t I order you to stand down?”

  Piper rolled his eyes mockingly. “I tried, it didn’t work for me. Besides, last night was kind of busy.”

  “I’m glad to see you in better spirits.”

  Piper tried to smile but it came out strained and false. The faraway look still lingered behind his pupils. “It’s amazing what a little sleep can do.”

  The general let the obvious question go unasked. He didn’t see how anyone could sleep through last night’s raid. Soldiers were already busy doing their best to erase any sign of damage. Burned tents were torn down and replaced with what little the advance units were able to bring. The first supply train wasn’t due for another few days. Rolnir hated the eternal issue of logistics more than combat. Getting supplies to an army in the field was a nightmare.

  “Most of the commanders are inside,” he told Piper. “Are you sure you feel up to this?”

  “I never am but that hasn’t stopped me yet.”

  Rolnir smiled and rose. Best not delay any longer, he thought. Besides, the king must be furious by now. That made him smile more. He wasn’t exactly sure what he told Badron last night but the king’s reaction had been priceless. Having the king underfoot was only going to end badly. The worst part was he had no one to voice his frustrations to. Any one of his most trusted men might be more interested in the crown than loyalty. Taking a calming breath, Rolnir entered the tent.

  “On your feet!”

  As one, his commanders and senior staff rose from their field chairs and came to attention. It was a custom Rolnir had always appreciated. It showed the proper amount of custom and discipline.

  “Please, carry on,” he told them.

  He waited for them to settle before beginning. “First order of business, what happened last night?”

  “Sir, as best as we can tell the enemy used archers to distract us, allowing a small band of assassins to enter the camp. Their target was obviously the king.”

  Unacceptable. “How did they know the king was here?”

  The same man, lean and hawkish, replied, “They have scouts hidden throughout this valley. It is possible they spotted his column coming down from the Murdes.”

  “Meaning our security is that lax?” Rolnir cautioned.

  “I wouldn’t go so far as that but it is also possible the Pell Darga are allied with Rogscroft,” he continued.

  Piper disagreed. “We saw no evidence of such on our way through the mountains.”

  “Doesn’t mean they aren’t in league, Piper,” Colonel Herger said. He set down his long stem pipe. “They may just be biding their time.”

  “We still would have seen some trace of them. Our scouts found nothing.”

  “What were they looking for?” asked a dark voice from the far corner.

  They turned to the sound of the newcomer. Rolnir responded first.

  “The king.”

  Again the war council rose, only this time Badron left them standing. This war, his war, had gotten off to a dismal beginning and the men to blame for it were all standing before him. His glare cut into them.

  “Has everyone suddenly forgotten how to speak?” he demanded.

  Piper Joach swallowed hard. “Signs of the Pell Darga, my lord.”

  Badron’s face darkened. The Pell Darga. His son’s murderers. “It is a pity that we did not run in to them. I would have liked to kill a few myself.”

  Rolnir sidled through them to stand before the king. “My initial assumption on the ease of our passage through the mountains seems correct. It is entirely possible the Pell are working with Rogscroft. The enemy remains a step ahead of us, sire. I do not believe the Pell Darga should be our primary focus.”

  “Agreed. Tightening your defenses is a good place to start.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “From what I understand your men have had their asses handed to them since they arrived in this godforsaken valley.”

  Rolnir struggled to contain the fury building. The bastard is taunting me. Rolnir didn’t rise to the insult. He knew what his strategy was and he was bound to adhere to it until it proved fatal. “Sire, our defenses are improving. Intelligence reports say we are facing a small enemy host. I do not believe they are a heavy combat unit, more likely they’ve been sent out to harass us and slow the advance.”

  Badron’s fist clenched. “My death would most certainly accomplish that, would it not? I am sorely disappointed in you, general. Do not make me find a more suitable replacement.”

  “We shall double our efforts,” Rolnir managed to stammer. He was stunned, as were all of his officers. He felt his grasp on the army slip.

  “I should hope so, for your sake,” Badron continued. “All of Delranan is reliant on the success of the Wolfsreik. You hold the fate of the kingdom in your hands. Do not fail.”

  Badron stalked back to the door. “General Rolnir, I expect you in my quarters as soon as you are finished here.”

  Rolnir swallowed his pride lest the worst happened now. “Of course, sire.”

  The general waited until Badron was gone and everyone had the chance to calm down before continuing. Now was the most critical time. Any misstep here and he was in jeopardy of losing the respect of his commanders. Rolnir cursed the king for putting him in this situation. All the king had to do was let him command the army like he knew how. Badron normally left military affairs alone. That made Rolnir instantly suspicious. The king was not acting like himself. He had a darker air about him of late. It was almost as if he were dancing to another’s song. Rolnir made the instant decision that he could not trust the king any longer. He also recognized that victory was going to come from the men assembled in this tent, not from a spastic king who had an ulterior motive.

  He tried to pick up where he they had left off. “The enemy assault on the camp notwithstanding, how soon can we expect the engineers to begin building the siege machines?”

  Colonel Ulaf, master of engineers, thought for a moment and answe
red. “The first supply wagons should already be arriving. My boys will be up and running by the evening.”

  Rolnir cast Piper a glance. “I want the guard doubled in their area. Those machines will become a top priority for the enemy to destroy once we move.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Gentlemen, the last twenty-four hours have tested our mettle. Right now we have been found wanting. The enemy is not going to sit back and let us march up to the gates of Rogscroft and plant our banner on their ramparts. This is going to be a hard fight. I expect every soldier in the Wolfsreik to give his all. We can relax when the war is over. Are there questions?”

  No one spoke.

  Rolnir nodded, satisfied. “Good. Go and prepare your troops. We march out in two days.”

  He returned their salutes and motioned for Piper to stand fast after the others had left. Once they were alone he said, “Take the wagons scheduled to arrive later today and load the dead. I’m not going to bury a single one of our men in this damned kingdom. They fought as heroes and deserve to be buried with their loved ones.”

  “I’ll make it happen,” Piper solemnly confirmed.

  “Piper, are you fit enough to return to the line?” He quickly changed subjects.

  “Fit enough I suppose. My shoulder is killing me though.”

  “That’s not what I meant, and you know it.”

  Piper let his eyes shut. “Sir, you and I have both lost men in the field before. Each death stays with me but I use them to give me strength. This time will be no different. You can depend on my men to do their job to the last.”

  “That’s all I wanted to know. Thank you, Piper. I truly do not know what I would do without you. Dismissed.”

  Alone, Rolnir stared down at the map of Rogscroft. He had a feeling that his troubles were only beginning.

  *****

  The walk to Badron’s tent was much longer than it should have been. He took the time to visit with the line units. Morale was still high. In truth there wasn’t much reason for it not to be. Only a handful of units had been affected by the raid. He swung by the field hospital to check on the wounded. Most of them voiced their concern and volunteered to hurry back to the fight. He applauded their courage and told them in due time. That was good. Soldiers needed to get back into a scrape after a loss.

  Rolnir swung by the growing engineer camp. All of them were busy unloading wagons or fashioning heavy bolts for the ballista. Smiths were also being erected. Wagon masters drove in huge loads of coke for the fires. Soon those forges would be able to repair or replace any battle loss. That part was important. Swords dulled, shields cracked.

  Picket lines had already gone out along the obvious avenues of approach. The leaders of the Wolfsreik were determined not to get caught short again. Rolnir took great pride in all. The strength of his army was not in any one man, but in all. At last he made it to the king’s pavilion. Guards, already expecting him, waved him past. He smiled politely and made small talk while wondering if he was going to take a knife to the back. Blood stained the ground beneath his feet. Badron’s previous guard had been killed by the assassin squad. Rolnir tensed, prepared for the worst, and stepped past.

  The king sat in the center of the central chamber, expectantly waiting on a makeshift throne. Plush carpets and oversized pillows were thrown across the ground. A fire crackled in the background. The darkness bothered Rolnir. Badron steeped his hands in front of his face, further concealing his intentions. The general was bothered by barely seeing his king’s eyes.

  “General Rolnir, please come forward,” he said in a slow, measured voice.

  Rolnir hesitated. This was not the same man who had been so belligerent back in the command tent.

  “Sire,” he nodded curtly and moved forward.

  Badron watched his general. “How goes the deployment?”

  What are you getting at? “Fairly well. The engineers are already working and I have most of the infantry battalions occupying positions along the front. Skirmishers will be sent out before dawn.”

  “Our enemy will be emboldened after yesterday’s victories.”

  “I agree.”

  “Further proof that they have been prepared for our arrival. Security has been horrendous, General.”

  Rolnir didn’t see it that way. They were doing what any normal man in the same situation would. Defending your home certainly wasn’t a crime. The men of Rogscroft were no different from his men in that regard.

  Badron leaned menacingly close. “I want them destroyed. Every last one of them. They murdered my son, kidnapped my daughter, and embarrassed my army. Stelskor’s treachery insults our entire kingdom.”

  “The men will do their job, sire. I can assure you.”

  The king snapped a nod. “Good. Keep me apprised of the situation. I expect regular reports once the advance begins.”

  “Of course, sire.” Lovely, just lovely.

  Badron dismissed him with a nonchalant wave of the hand. “You may go now, and Rolnir, never speak to me in the manner in which you did last night again. I have no qualms about having you gutted in front of your army.”

  General Rolnir left more confused. The war had but begun and events were already spiraling out of control. Badron was bordering on insane and was obviously going to be an issue in the days to come. He decided to put his faith in the strength of the Wolfsreik and hope for the best.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  “Ha! I finally remember.”

  Head slowly turned to the wizard with careful anticipation.

  Anienam only bothered to look up when no one replied. “Is no one curious?”

  “I think we’ve all been beaten up a little too much to be excited about a simple exclamation,” Dorl Theed replied. His lips were dry, cracked in a dozen places. His throat hurt from a particularly nasty chop courtesy of his torturer.

  Anienam was doing his best to heal them but he had limits to what he could do. Rather than apologizing, he remained focused on his own thoughts. “The Dae’shan have nearly unlimited power. There are neigh invincible but they do have an exploitable weakness.”

  Boen raised his weary head. “That being?”

  “The legends are all vague on the name, but there is an ancient artifact that was once wielded to defeat them.”

  “Why weren’t they destroyed?” Nothol asked. Curiosity peaked now.

  The wizard paused. He wasn’t sure how much to say here, how much Harnin’s men might overhear. “Perhaps it was not used properly. I don’t know exactly. What I remember is that this is the only key to defeating the Dae’shan and saving Malweir.”

  Dorl snorted. “That’s all well and fine, but we need to get out of here first.”

  “I can assist with that, but my spell will only free our bonds.”

  “I’ll worry about the rest after I get circulation back in my limbs.”

  Boen wasn’t in the mood for the negativity. Instead he focused on Anienam’s revelation. “What does this item look like?”

  “A hammer.”

  “That’s it? A simple hammer?”

  He nodded. “A war hammer to be certain. Legends call it the Blud Hamr, or Blood Hammer. I recall a tale about explorers being able to hear the sound of hammers in the wind. This is our key to victory, my friends.”

  Dorl Theed hung his head again. He wanted to cry. The nadir of his life had finally arrived. Hopelessness stretched out from the darkness to lay claim upon the shadows of his soul and this damned wizard was yakking about some mythical hammer. How much more ridiculous could this get?

  “Does the legend mention where we can find this mythical hammer?” Boen pressed.

  “It does, but I do not know.”

  “Your words are not exactly forthcoming,” Boen carefully said.

  Anienam ignored him. “Patience is required. It is true that our enemies are many but hope is still to be had. Even now forces are moving in opposition to our foe. Victory is still attainable.”

  “That’s easy enough f
or you to say. You’re the only one who hasn’t been taken and beaten repeatedly,” Dorl snapped off from his misery.

  Nothol Coll passed his friend a cross glare.

  The wizard sat quietly. True, he hadn’t been tortured, but he also devoted most of his energy towards healing his friends and working through the paths of his memory. He’d lost his grasp on sympathy long ago. Anienam believed that everything happened for a reason. There was no cause to lament bad times. Every life had dark hours. Matters generally sorted themselves out. Only this time he wasn’t so sure of the direction matters were headed.

  *****

  Maleela jumped at the booming sounds coming from the other side of the door. Her heart inched a little higher. She wasn’t sure but it sounded like a fight. Her initial fear was that Harnin had finally come for her neck. She scrambled, desperately searching for something, anything she could use as a weapon. Her hopes sank. She didn’t even have a glass of water. Maleela delved deep for what courage remained and prepared for the end.

  The noises stopped. The lock clicked and the door slowly opened. Maleela instinctively tensed. She decided to attack. If she was going to die it might as well be with some measure of dignity. A shadow fell across the room. She let out a bitter scream and launched into an attack. Strong arms blocked her wild swings and easily wrapped her up.

  “Whoa now, princess,” said a familiar voice.

  Maleela’s senses swirled. Confusion slipped in. She looked up into the oddly familiar eyes of Lord Argis.

  “What is this?” she stammered.

  “It is me, Argis. I am taking you out of here. You have friends in the city. They will ensure your safety,” Argis told her.

  Her confusion only deepened. “My safety? I don’t understand.”

  “I am a member of the underground,” he whispered.

  That was it. No long drawn-out speech. Just a simple admission. Argis looked almost guilty for how easy it had been. Admitting his traitorous actions was almost overwhelming. His palms actually began to sweat.

  She instantly wondered if he was in league with Aurec. Maleela’s eyes opened wide. “You are one of my father’s closest friends. How can you do this?”