Even Gods Must Fall (25 page)

He looked down on Aurec with immense compassion. Losing everything was no easy thing to endure. He knew. He’d lost his estate, his ship, and now his family. Bahr was alone in the world. No matter how tomorrow ended, his lot in life wasn’t going to change. Accepting this fact was difficult but not impossible. He’d had countless hours on the road or river to ponder the course on which his life bizarrely twisted.

“How could you do that? You just left her to die,” Aurec accused.

Bahr frowned, knowing he failed to properly explain the situation. “We have every reason to believe she was kidnapped after she killed Ionascu.”

Aurec lifted his head slowly. His eyes were red and sore. Tears streaked his face, marring the dirt that had accumulated. “What do you mean? Maleela would never kill anyone. It’s not in her nature.”

“So I believed as well. My niece is a resilient young lady, however, and quite capable of defending herself. You’ve no idea how difficult it was keeping her from getting into battles. Which is why I fully believe she killed Ionascu and was abducted shortly thereafter. Nothing else makes sense. We found evidence of a struggle. Feathers and such.” Bahr went on to explain their running engagement with the Harpies and Anienam’s theory that the Hags were in league with the Dae’shan. Much of it sounded implausible to Bahr as he spoke it. Then again much of their journey since leaving Delranan seemed farfetched. He certainly wouldn’t believe another if he were being told such tales.

Aurec reflected the sentiment. “You realize how impossible it all sounds? I’ve spent months locked in a war not of my choosing, all the while hoping against hope that she was alive and safe from harm. For you to stand before me and claim she’s been captured by our enemy drives iron nails through my heart.” He used the back of his sleeves to wipe his eyes. “I want to believe you, Bahr. I do. There has been much animosity between our families.” He held up a hand for silence before Bahr could counter the point. “I know you’ve been a minor player in this foul drama, but that doesn’t change things. I can look beyond your mission to Rogscroft, but not your negligence in keeping Maleela safe.”

“I accept that, but you need to keep in mind she is my blood. I may not have been there for her when she was growing up but my love for that little girl runs deep. If I could trade places with her I would, gladly,” he told Aurec.

The king nodded in total agreement. “As would I. Perhaps I was wrong. You are not your brother, Captain Bahr. I see that now. There is honor in you. It reminds me of my father.”

“Stelskor was a good man,” Bahr said. He’d met the old king twice before and came away impressed each time. Secretly he wished his brother would have aspired to be more like the king of Rogscroft. Delranan would have been a better kingdom.

“Thank you,” Aurec said.

They left the conversation at that. Each had said his part. Nothing further needed explaining. Bahr left in friendship. Heading back to Faeldrin and the others, he felt a great weight fall from his shoulders. His heart lightened. Making peace with the king of Rogscroft sealed a portion of the rift between their two families. Bahr didn’t know if it would be enough. Too much bad blood existed, but it was a definite beginning.

Despite the good feelings coming from his meeting, Bahr couldn’t avoid thinking about Maleela and what had become of his niece. Did she die in the jungle or was her fate much worse? He wasn’t sure why but felt the answer would soon be revealed.

Calm Before the Storm

Skuld watched the Dwarf army going through preparations for tomorrow’s battle with awe. Once a common street thief, he never dreamed to have witnessed the sights and experiences of his long journey. Wars, monsters, and impossible races stretched his imagination to the limits. There were times when he regretted overhearing Nothol and Dorl talking about the riches in the Murdes Mountains. Times when he wanted nothing more than to retreat back to his hiding spot in Chadra and forget the rest of the world existed. But he also found more times when he could do naught but stand in wonder at all Malweir had to offer.

His personal development took him through different courtships. Boen was his initial role model for he fancied himself becoming a great and powerful warrior. His own experience in battle left that desire deflated. No one should willingly want to go to war. Next came Anienam’s subtle testing to see if he was right for assuming the mantle of Mage. Skuld didn’t care for magic, though the strength and power of it was certainly alluring. He reluctantly accepted Anienam’s promise that he held latent magical attributes that could be exploited into use but wasn’t sure that was what he wanted from life. Skuld was more confused now than he had ever been in his brief life.

The rebels were his people. Many were from Chadra and he thought he recognized a few in passing. They were shopkeepers or smiths. Only a handful had ever been professional soldiers. They were nothing like the gruff professionals of Drimmen Delf. Skuld couldn’t pull his gaze. He and a few others hadn’t gotten to witness the Dwarves go to war during their stay in the grand halls. Bahr insisted that Skuld remain with Maleela while he and the others went to the battle of Bode Hill. At the time Skuld resented the decision. He wanted to help, to fight. Now that he saw how dedicated the Dwarves were to warfare his stomach felt unsettled.

“Isn’t it a glorious sight?” Ironfoot asked as he came up beside Skuld.

Skuld didn’t know what to say. He shifted his gaze to the normally taciturn Dwarf captain. “How can anyone be this good at destruction? I never imagined anything like this when I was living on the streets.”

Ironfoot regarded the boy a moment longer before answering. “Dwarves aren’t inherently violent but we have great propensity to execute our will through the axe. You have seen this before. There are no surprises here.”

“I wasn’t allowed out of the mountains,” Skuld protested. “Bahr thought it was best to keep me with the princess.”

“Perhaps. I did not know either of you during those days,” the Dwarf said thoughtfully. “Your race is full of surprises, young Skuld. I find myself constantly being taken off guard by your deeds. It is easy to see why Humans have become the dominant species on Malweir. The rest of us are too mired in the old ways, ways that don’t exist any longer. Malweir was once wild, untamed. They were times for hard people. The weak perished quickly. Old hatreds were formed and continue to this day. What you see before us is a result of those hatreds. We will take our vengeance against the Goblins tomorrow.”

“I don’t understand how any one race can hate another with so much passion.”

“Passion? There is little passion in combat. Dwarves and Goblins share a hate stronger than all the love in the world. You see, it is a little known fact but we were both once the same race. Evil twisted our kin until they became so tormented they evolved into the creatures awaiting us. For that crime my people have sworn to continue fighting our ancient foes until none remain.”

Ironfoot fell silent. A battery of cannons was being pulled by. Four oxen were hooked up to each cannon. They strained under the several-thousand-pound weight of iron and gears as the animals dragged the weapons of mass destruction through partially trampled snow. Even packed for transport, the weapons presented an ominous scene. Skuld felt death as they rolled past. His argument with Ironfoot was justified, at least in his mind.

A sudden thought occurred to him. “Ironfoot, why are you not back with the Dwarves?”

“It seems my fate is not tied to theirs. Anienam told us that we were all required if the quest was to succeed. That means I am meant to fight alongside the rest of you.” He paused as the last cannon went by. “Between the two of us, I think I would rather be with Bahr and that fool, old wizard. He makes life interesting.”

Skuld was beginning to feel like he was the only sane one in their group. Confused, he said good night and went back to his bedroll. Dawn was coming fast.

Rekka rolled off of a panting Dorl and pulled the blanket around her neck. She wasn’t cold. Their lovemaking saw to that, but it wouldn’t take long for the crisp night to turn their sweat into ice. Responding to her, Dorl helped by wrapping his free arm around her back and gently caressing her shoulder. Her eyes closed as she enjoyed the moment. Tomorrow could wait. It was much too late to worry about their destiny. All that mattered now was her time with Dorl.

The love they shared was undiscovered by either. She’d grown up in a rigidly structured world with no room for romance. Cashi Dam had tried to insist on his devotion, but it was misguided. The tribal leader of Teng let his desire turn to lust and eventually wound up with his death at the hands of a Gnaal. Dorl was unlike anyone she’d ever met. Rough on the outside, Dorl Theed bore the softest heart. He gave in wholly to her, willingly. The comfort she took from this was unmatched. It made her job easier and enhanced her life to the point where she could see abandoning the sword for children and a home.

Rekka propped up on an elbow and stared down into his soft eyes. Whatever fear she harbored melted as he stared back. Smiling, she traced a finger down between his chest muscles and sighed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

She shook her head slightly. Her dark hair whisked against his exposed flesh. “Nothing. I’m trying to imagine what the day after tomorrow will be like.”

Dorl was no fool. He couldn’t imagine what tomorrow was going to bring, much less whatever fallout happened later. Truthfully he didn’t expect to live past the attack. A gnawing specter had been hounding him since their run-in with the Harpies in Fedro. He wanted nothing more than to close his eyes and get lost in the warmth of her embrace.

“Can’t we just have tonight?” he asked.

Her smile faded, leaving only the slightest trace. “I want to give you so much more, Dorl Theed. Through you I have found a new sense of being.”

“How do you mean? I’m nothing special,” he protested.

“You are, though you don’t realize it. I don’t want to be the guardian of Trennaron any longer. I don’t want to serve anyone other than myself. Dorl, I want to live. With you.”

His heart skipped. Impossible futures raced through his mind. His young life had seemed aimless until Rekka entered it. She quickly became a fixed point for him to focus on as he trudged through misadventures and the endless string of daily hardships. To hear her words now, at this most terrible moment imaginable, meant more to Dorl than he’d ever be able to express.

“I never thought of settling down with anyone before,” he admitted. “I’ve been travelling around with Nothol for so long I don’t recall another life. Don’t get me wrong, Rekka, I’m flattered you’d want to stick around with me.”

“But?” Rekka’s eyes narrowed. She withdrew her loving finger and tried not to glare down on him.

Dorl swallowed the lump rising through his throat. He hadn’t intended on aggravating her but sometimes the tongue fails to express what the mind or heart feels. “Don’t go jumping to conclusions. My only reservation to sticking with you is that I can’t provide you the life you deserve. Nothing more.”

Rekka tilted her head back and laughed. The sound was joyful, relieved. “Dorl Theed, you soft-hearted fool.”

The corners of his mouth turned down in disappointment. “Like I said, I never thought about settling down with anyone before.”

She brought her face close to his, their lips almost touching. “Will you think about it now?”

Dorl reached up and kissed her passionately.

Daylight faded; it was a gradual progression of colors from bright blue to dark purple. Birds chirped as they soared over the rebel camp. The mild brown bark from a dozen different types of trees looked like a carefully mended blanket. Groge was continually amazed with life in the lowlands. It was so unlike the harsh conditions of Venheim, high atop the jagged mountain peaks. So much life and variations kept him grounded. Young by Giant standards, Groge gained experience none of his peers could ever dream of.

Reluctantly he pulled his gaze away from the world. Groge never asked to become the one person capable of bringing about the end of the dark gods’ threat and it wore on him heavily. All he wanted was to become a great forge master like Joden. That dream seemed further away daily. His disturbed gaze finally fell upon the Blud Hamr. The ancient weapon, though Anienam continued to contend it was a tool and not a weapon, stood head down in the snow. The handle stretched almost to his waist. Groge wasn’t certain but he thought the very earth vibrated when the Hamr touched ground.

“I don’t deserve this,” he whispered to the Hamr. “You are too great of a responsibility for a simple apprentice. Am I even capable of doing the right thing when that moment arrives?”

Frustrated, he shook his head. He wasn’t a great thinker or a trained warrior. Having never experienced the violence of combat before joining Bahr’s quest, Groge was often left feeling stranded. In the months since he’d come down from the mountains he had not only taken lives, but was growing increasingly proficient at it. The notion horrified him. It became clear why his people abandoned the rest of Malweir all those centuries ago. No race should have the power to control and kill another.

Groge closed his eyes and tried to picture Joden’s forge: the smell of charcoal and iron filling the air, the feeling of intense heat on the backs of his hands, the sounds of hammers clanging against anvils. It was the life he was cut out for, though perhaps not what he’d been created for. Clearly the gods of light had specific designs for Groge that the youth didn’t share. Having almost no control over the direction of his life went beyond maddening.

‘What makes me special?” he asked after long moments of reflection. “I haven’t earned any rank or title. I’m not experienced. Would any other suffice in my place? I wish there were answers. Never before have I felt so helpless, like a newborn. Will my actions keep my people alive?”

The Hamr began to glow bright blue as if in response. Groge took heart, knowing the Hamr was giving him a much-needed sign. Doubts began to erase as conviction rushed in to fill the void. Hope rekindled. The young Giant once again found purpose through the raw strength the Hamr exuded. Live or die, he instinctively knew he was going to perform well tomorrow. Should he live, Groge would never be the same after that. It was a small price he was willing to live with as long as he helped stopped the enemies of life and restore order to Malweir.

The eve of the greatest battle in generations did little to affect Boen’s nerves. He was the definition of warfare. Gaimos had been vanquished millennia ago but her people continued to thrive under the worst conditions. They trained constantly, developing new skills in the art of killing. One popular theory was that the toppling of Gaimos by a coalition of nations was the single greatest tragedy in Malweir’s rich history while simultaneously bringing about events that would alter the course of the future permanently.

Gaimosians were bestowed by the gods with latent magical attributes. A core group would go on to establish the library-fortress of Ipn Shal and the order of Mages. The ruin of Gaimos would be felt for generations. Many, Boen included, struggled through life in an attempt at championing the undefended. There was only one goal: the return of Gaimos as a nation and the finality of their life of exile. Boen wasn’t sure what he’d do once he was able to settle down. At his advanced age it was beyond past time. His best years were long behind him. He had no heirs, no continuation of the bloodline. When Boen died so too would his family’s history.

He shrugged off the feelings of dread lingering in the shadow-crusted corners of his mind and set his sword to the sharpening stone. Oils slickened the small slab of granite. It was an act he’d done over a million times. The repetitive nature soothed his nerves, distributing a sense of calm throughout his large body. His mind cleared. The prospect of hacking through enemy lines was all that mattered. Boen’s purpose, his singular task, was to punch a hole in the Goblin ranks wide enough for Bahr and the others to get into the ruins. Nothing else mattered.

He’d given Bahr his word to protect his back for as long as necessary. Should that require giving his life in the process so be it. Boen was a warrior. This was his calling. All of the pressure of politics and personal maneuvering went over his head as he prepared his mind for what must be done tomorrow. His only regret or fear, though he’d never use such a word, was that he had never even conceived such impossible odds. The war for the soul of Malweir was the largest in recorded history, or so he’d been led to believe. He considered it a great honor to be the only one of his people to be an active combatant. Once again a Gaimosian would be at the center of the universe. His actions might very well be the spark that motivated the rest of the allies and tip the balance in the war.