Haven Keep (Book 1)

by R. David Bell

  Soren and Von retreated slowly back into the forest. They would have to wait until the camp settled down.

  “Hey!” a voice shouted. “Over here!”

  Too late. Someone discovered two of the bodies.

  Much of the camp ran to where the first two bodies lay. Soren remained still as the two sentries Von and he had picked out for their next victims ran past. Von rose from his hiding position with bow in hand. Soren’s breath caught. They would be discovered.

  Von drew his bow and let the arrow fly. The man closest to them fell with an arrow in his neck. His companion noticed the gurgling sounds coming from his dying friend. He turned in time to take Von’s second arrow straight in the chest. He fell, but his cry brought more attention in their direction. Attention Soren did not want.

  Four men came running their way. Von had minimal cover behind a snow covered tree, but he would be seen soon. He appeared not to care and nocked another arrow. Soren had two choices, run or draw his bow as well. He knew Von was not going to run.

  The lead man tumbled in the snow from Von’s arrow strike. Soren drew his bow. Von took aim at his next target.

  The Halfen men stopped when they saw their friend fall, their eyes darting, searching the forest.

  “We are under attack!” one yelled. He took Von’s next arrow and fell hard.

  Soren loosed, piercing the third Halfen in the chest.

  The remaining man turned and ran for camp, but did not make it far. He too fell to Von’s unrelenting attack. Others came running to investigate. Six more fell to Von’s and Soren’s bows before the Halfen men realized their folly.

  They now came on horseback, with shields to protect them from the missiles that felled their companions. They charged hard towards Von, who stood in the open not seeming to care who saw him.

  “Von!” Soren called. “Take cover. We can fight them in the trees.”

  Von looked at Soren and hesitated for a minute. Still he did not move. Fifteen men on horseback were running him down, at least half had spears, their long steel tips pointed menacingly in Von’s direction.

  Soren sprinted to Von’s aid, but there was no way to get there in time, not even with his speed.

  Von dove behind a tree, knocking a spear aside with his sword. Isk and Jen sprang from the snow snapping at hamstrings, sending the horses into a panic. Four riders fell to the earth. Soren took advantage of the confusion.

  He rushed with the speed and strength of a primaeval predator among the Halfen. Those trying to regain control of their horses he ignored. Isk and Jen would ensure the horses remained in a fright.

  Von jumped to his feet, his sword spinning and flashing. The trees and the snow made it difficult for the Halfen to press their advantage. They could only come at Von and Soren a few at a time, but Von was not watching his back as he should.

  A large man on a massive mount leveled his foot long spearhead at Von’s back and charged. Soren leaped through the air taking the man from his saddle, stabbing him in the ribs before they hit the ground. The horse’s momentum continued forward, crashing into Von, pinning him against the low lying branches of a fir. Soren came to his rescue, fending off a deadly axe swing aimed at Von’s head. His counter stroke unhorsed the rider.

  Von regained his balance and bounded into the saddle of the riderless horse. Von held sword in one hand and dagger in the other. The weapons moved as one. Anyone who came within the arcing circles of his sword regretted it.

  Riderless horses crowded the trees, but Soren preferred to stay on his feet. He utilized his speed better using his own legs. The Halfen still in their saddles he left to Von. Soren dashed between the men on the ground. The snow hampered their movements, but not Soren’s. He drew on the strength of the vyr, sent himself into a battle frenzy. He was the last of the berserkers. Soren let loose a rage he had only allowed himself to enter a few times in his life, most recently in the vyr’s cavern. That time it had saved his life. He counted on it now to do the same. The berserker’s frenzy overcame him, took control.

  Men fell before him, swept down before his might, crushed by his overwhelming strength.

  One man remained on horseback for Von to contend with. Isk and Jenn ravished two more that had been thrown from their panicked horses.

  Soren thought it was over then six riders burst through the trees. He leaped between the riders, taking down one with his sword and a second with his dagger. The remaining four galloped passed. They whirled around trying to run Soren down. The trees prevented them from maneuvering as one. Soren bounded onto the back of the nearest rider, pulling him to the ground. The battle rage consumed him. He fought in a red fury, swinging and striking violently. He did not know the number of men he had killed, he only knew he sought more. This must be the rage Von carried inside. It was the rage of the vyr, greater than the strength of a mere berserker. It flooded over him, washed through his veins, shot through every part of his body. He moved with speed and power, feeling no regret, relentless and remorseless.

  All fell silent around him, but his blood pounded a violent rhythm in his ears. His breathing was labored, short, and heavy. He knew he needed to calm himself, to again grasp hold of reality, but he now felt free...free to do as his primal instincts desired. There were more enemies at the camp. He turned and ran.

  Von galloped at his side. Isk and Jen ran behind, snarling and growling the sounds Soren wanted to voice.

  A guard left to watch the prisoners yelled from the middle of the camp. He held a young woman by her throat, his arm choking her tightly.

  “Stop or I will start slaughtering these women!” he screamed.

  Soren heard the desperation in the man’s voice. With barely over ten guards remaining there was no way they could hope to keep all of their prisoners. They would be lucky to escape with their lives.

  Von answered the man with another arrow. The shaft shot from the Haven Keep bow flew straight and true, an impossible shot from horseback buried deep into the man’s eye.

  The Halfen men fled, but they could not flee fast enough. Von let fly his last three shafts, but Soren did not bother with his bow. The berserkers’s rage burned within him. He ran the Halfen men down. He did not know mercy. All his emotion fed his berserker rage. He envied Isk and Jen as their jaws snapped down on the men too slow to evade them. He was a beast ravishing a shepherdless flock. The Halfen fell before him, helpless to defend themselves. He roared with the rage that fueled his incomprehensible speed, swinging his sword like a club, bashing and cutting. Again and again. His battle rage boiled over to an uncontrollable frenzy. The last guard fell.

  It was over.

  He wanted to howl. The moon rose above the trees calling him to the hunt. In the distance he heard a battle raging just as he fought one within himself. He remembered who he was, but all thought and rationality fled. He needed them to return before he lost himself. He must not let the rage take over. He rarely allowed himself to succumb to a full berserker frenzy. He had drawn on the strength of the bear numerous times without entering full battle rage. It was always safer to keep some control, but now he had surrendered to the vyr skin. His new pelt was vastly more powerful, vastly more dangerous. He must gain mastery again, remember himself.

  He fought for control of his breathing and felt his pulse slow. The heat from his anger began to cool. He took deep breaths, tried to hold them, let the air out slowly. He turned and saw Von watching him.

  A group of women held to each other tightly. Children clung to their skirts. Joyful tears rolled down cheeks, tempered by looks of shocked fear.

  More women began to emerge from the tents, wide eyed and hopeful. They saw their captors lying in their gore and cried out in joy. Many came to give Von and Soren thanks with hugs and kisses, but none who witnessed how it all had ended approached Soren.

  Von appeared embarrassed and more than a little exhausted. He walked slowly to Soren.

  “Are you well?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” Soren insisted
. “I am okay.” He felt he was trying to convince himself, trying to make himself believe nothing had gone wrong.

  “Are you sure?” The concern in Von’s voice was impossible to mask.

  “There is a reason why there are no longer berserkers in the north.” Soren explained. “Many lost themselves to the battle rage and others were persecuted out of fear.” He tried to calm his breathing. “A berserker must learn to draw on the strength of the bear without losing himself to the rage.” He looked into Von’s eyes and saw understanding. “The vyr is even more powerful, even harder to control.”

  Von nodded. “Just be careful,” he said, “I need you.”

  That was the most emotion Soren had ever seen Von display, other than his anger.

  “Von,” Soren counseled. “You must also be careful. You carry an anger inside yourself as well. A rage that rivals that of the berserker. Do not let it rule you.”

  Soren saw that anger flash across Von’s eyes and in an instant it was gone.

  “I know,” Von admitted, his shoulders slumped under an invisible weight. “I have this consuming hatred for the Horde.” He paused, stared at the ground. “And the Halfen have only helped their cause. So has everyone else who refuses to fight along side us. The treason is unforgivable.”

  “Remember you have others to share this burden with you.” He put a hand on Von’s shoulder. “Your brother is alive to mete out justice as he sees fit. You must help him. Remember you have Baiden as well.”

  Von smiled wryly. “Don’t think I have forgotten about you, Kaiden and Yaris either.”

  “I wouldn’t expect you too.”

  “Sirs?” a quiet voice interrupted.

  Soren turned and saw a pretty woman of middle years, her blond hair framing a thin face with blue eyes full of hope. She looked up at Von and him.

  “Sirs?” she asked. “Are we safe?”

  “You are safe,” Von assured her, “and free to return home.”

  “Some of us no longer have homes,” said another woman with dark golden curls. “We have no where to go.”

  “You can go to Azmark if you like.” Von sounded unsure of himself. “I’m confident Lord Baiden will take care of you all,” he offered.

  Soren could tell that wasn’t enough for most of these women. Many of them had lost husbands and older children. They were now widows, left to take care of their little ones on their own. Some of the young girls must have lost their entire families. Many looked terrified, frightened to be left alone in this forest.

  “You have saved us and we owe you our debt,” the first woman said. “But we still need your help. The army of the Halfen is still near by. If they come back this way...” She tried to fight back tears and for the first time Soren noticed her torn dress.

  “Baiden will deal with the Halfen,” Soren said. He wished again he was there to help in the fight. If the tide of battle began to go the wrong way he and Von might have been just enough to push it back, but then these women would still be in Halfen hands. He could not be everywhere. He should remember the advice he had just given Von. There were other people to help him. “We have done what we can for you.”

  The woman tried to look strong, and she did when compared to the others behind her who appeared abandoned all over again.

  Von took her gently by the hand. “What is your name?”

  “Gaila,” she answered timidly.

  “Gaila,” he said softly, “my name is Beovon and this is Soren.”

  Soren was surprised Von used his full name.

  “We will stay with you this night,” Von said. “In the morning you can return home or travel to Azmark, or go wherever you like.”

  It was better than nothing, but Soren could see she wanted more by the way she nodded. Her eyes remained lowered, welling with tears.

  Soren was not sure if he liked it. They would definitely not be at Stone Abbey in time now. He was about to protest then saw the look of sympathy in Von’s eyes and the look of gratitude in the eyes of the former captives. Most of the children still clung to their mother’s skirts, but they could see they were safer now.

  What Von said next surprised Soren even more. He spoke loud enough for all to hear.

  “We will not leave you until we know the threat from the Halfen army has been dealt with.” He turned back to Gaila. “Is that better?”

  “Yes,” she said through watery eyes. “Thank you.”

  “I know you don’t like it Soren, but we need our rest as well. And I can’t abandon them.”

  Soren studied his young companion. Von managed to surprise Soren at nearly every turn. He never suspected Von’s consuming hatred to be tempered with the compassion he was now showing. There was still something left in his heart other than a thirst for revenge. Maybe Von was not so far gone as he thought.

  “You are right once again, Von.” Soren did not want to abandon these women either. His youthful master had made a good choice.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Soren was not sure how much rest Von managed to get the previous night, but he knew for sure the sleep he managed was inadequate. The news Baiden had won a great victory was enough to override his weariness.

  Von had remained with the camp while Soren stole away to discover the outcome of the battle. It was total victory. The Halfen were in a complete route, their forces decimated. Soren saw all this from a distance, returning quickly to inform Von.

  The news lifted Von’s spirits, but he was still determined to race to Stone Abbey and confront Ky. The fact that Ky’s army was all but destroyed steeled Soren’s nerves against the dangers of arriving at Stone Abbey with no more than the two of them. The news may actually sway the chiefs to vote against Ky. That was if they arrived in time. Soren doubted they would.

  Leaving the rescued women and children was more difficult than Soren anticipated. Gaila implored them to stay, but Von assured them they were safe and Baiden would see to their needs, especially if they told him Von sent them. Von and Soren left at first light and rode hard. There was a long distance to travel. They had gone leagues out of their way to rescue the captives and lost time by staying overnight.

  The forest was bright. Beams of light penetrated through the branches, lifting Soren’s spirits, while the warmth of the sun took the bite off the brisk morning air. It was a wondrous morning, but Soren knew there was a great task before them. A dangerous task.

  They set a fast pace through the snow, pushing the horses. The forest was thick and eerily silent for this time of year. Maybe the early snows had sent the birds prematurely south for the winter, but Soren had yet to even see a rabbit or a squirrel. The forest was quiet, too quiet.

  “Maybe it’s because of the battle last night,” Von said.

  “What?”

  “This forest,” Von explained. “It’s too quiet.”

  The near echo of Soren’s thoughts let him know he was not imagining the stillness of the forest.

  “Maybe,” Soren agreed. “We should be careful nonetheless. Who knows what lurks out here amongst this ancient growth?”

  They rode on and Soren kept his eyes on the forest, searching for anything out of place. He saw nothing, but could not shake the feeling something was amiss. It ate at him. The inhabitants of the forest were gone, not only the people, but the animals as well. The people had been driven out before the Halfen, but where were the animals? It was as if the creatures of the forest had fled too, as if they sensed there was something wrong, something awry. Soren felt a calmness to the forest, but it was as the calm before a storm. The beauty of the morning light would be darkened by the grey clouds building on the horizon, marred by what was borne on the storm.

  The old forest gave way to newer trees, with less undergrowth and debris, but still no life other than the plants that survive through the early snows. The light still penetrated the trees and every once in a while Soren saw the sun through the branches, climbing towards its zenith. The position of the sun told him it was late morning, well past
the time the chiefs would begin their meeting. For all they knew Ky was already named Lord of the North by those in attendance. Soren hoped it was not so.

  They topped a small knoll and saw smoke rising through the trees.

  “It can’t be far now,” Von observed. “I can see the cooking fires for the midday meals.”

  Soren agreed. They should be there within the hour. He spurred his horse on, quickening the pace. The fact it was almost midday gave him a greater feeling of urgency. They were close to their goal now, but might be too late to accomplish it. Too late to prevent additional treason.

  The closer they rode to Stone Abbey the more sparse the trees became. Eventually they began to see the remains of stone walls and large buildings long forgotten. Soren had never traveled this particular route to Stone Abbey. It was his first time cross country in this area and he wondered if anyone had seen these ruins for generations.

  The smoke from the fires served as a reference point. They traveled in a strait line, their destination close now, unless they were headed toward some farmer’s shack.

  The smoke proved to be what they expected. Soren and Von broke from the trees to find Stone Abbey, the field surrounding it filled with people. Representatives from every clan except the Orlenc and the Kailfen.

  Soren searched for the chiefs, but they were no where to be found. He saw something that angered him. The location set aside for the Lord of the North was occupied by a number of Halfen men. They stood in a defiant manner, smug and proud. Ky was not with them. He must be inside.