Tides of Blood and Steel (39 page)

“
Ionascu, third son of Matescu. Hear our voices
.”

He screamed and clamped his twisted hands over his ears. Tiny trickles of blood seeped from beneath his fingers. Strength fled and he dropped to his knees. Massive hands, larger than mountains, jutted up from the ground. Stone and rocks showered down, crushing everything beneath. Ionascu felt cold. He felt hatred so pure it threatened to tear the marrow from his very bones.

“Leave me alone!” he shouted back.

The voices laughed, cold and wicked.

“
No, broken son. The hour is much too late for that
.”

A female voice. “
Yes. The time has come for you to fulfill your purpose
.”

“I said leave me be!” he shouted again with less conviction.

Lightning struck close enough to sizzle his flesh and knock him backwards.

“
You would do well to listen
.”

Ionascu bowed low, his forehead touching the ground hard enough to draw blood. “Yes. Yes, please no more.”

“
See, I told you he was agreeable
.”

“
Perhaps
.”

A large hand, no more than a wisp of cloud, plucked the groveling man up and set him on his feet.

“
Heed our words. War is coming. A terrible war to decide the fate of the world. We have need of agents
.”

The broken man weakly resisted.

“
Serve us and we will grant you revenge against those responsible for breaking you
.”

Ionascu looked up. Fresh hope sparked to life. “You, you can do that?”

Dark laughter. “
That and so much more. Follow us and the revenge is yours. All of the foulest desires aching in the rot of your heart will come true. It is a gift
.”

Fear and desperation lost their hold on him and Ionascu willingly allowed himself to plunge into the enticements. He wanted Harnin dead more than anything and would be a fool to pass on such opportunity. Ionascu quickly decided.

“What must I do?”

“
Nothing for now. We will come to you when the time is right
.”

Ethereal fingers dissolved and he fell. Ionascu woke up confused and bathed in sweat. He screamed.

* * * * *

Skuld warmed his hands, knowing that this would likely be his last chance to stay warm for a very long time. The Murdes Mountains were by far the worst place he had ever been. His initial fascination of the Giants was gone, just as lost as earlier dreams of gold and riches. He wanted to go home and forget all of this. The only problem was home no longer existed.

“What troubles your mind, young Skuld?”

Anienam’s voice cracked from age yet managed to keep a comforting tone.

“I’ve had too long to think about things, Anienam.”

The wizard took a seat beside him and smiled tightly. “A very dangerous thing, that. Thinking has been the ruin of a great many since the dawn of the world.”

“You are mocking me.”

“Perhaps just a little, though what I say is largely true. The power of thought, one of our most basic freedoms, is also a bane. Too much thinking lets a man believe he can do anything. With some it works within the scope of their boundaries, but with others it pushes them into acts of desperation. It is those men who need watching.”

The soft crackle of flames soothed the boy.

After giving Skuld time to think on it, Anienam playfully asked, “You’re not one of those men who need watching, are you?”

Skuld smiled sheepishly. “No. At least I don’t think so.”

“Good. I would have hated to turn you into a toad.”

He laughed, finally.

“Does what we are doing matter?” Skuld asked suddenly.

“That depends on how you mean.”

Skuld shook his head. “I don’t know. This doesn’t feel right, Anienam. I feel like we are being pushed into a task for someone else. It bothers me.”

Anienam passed a worried glance. The boy is quick, he thought.
He just might make a decent Mage
.

“Between you and me, we are caught up in a war of beliefs. Some here in Venheim might argue that the gods have designs on each of us, but aren’t strong enough to deal with matters themselves.”

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“No, it really doesn’t, which makes what we have to do all the more important. The fate of Malweir might actually rest on our shoulders. Boen should enjoy that,” he added as an afterthought.

Skuld forced another laugh, much more strained than before.

“Think no more on this. There is no point in worrying about matters beyond our control,” Anienam said and gently slapped Skuld’s knee. “Now come on, we are leaving soon and I absolutely deplore traveling on an empty stomach.”

* * * * *

Joden stepped back, admiring his handiwork. The hammer was the finest tool he had ever wrought. Dark iron absorbed rather than reflected light. It was powerful enough to meet the dark times. Tight leather straps provided the grip on the handle, strong and reliable for use in combat. Archaic runes were etched into the head, giving it strength, power. The old Giant set the weapon down, lost deep in thought. It was going to take much for Groge to survive the quest for the Blud Hamr. Joden wished the wizard had come a hundred years ago. The forge master would have leapt at the opportunity to become history. Rather than lose himself to fanciful dreams that would never come true, Joden turned to Groge.

“This hammer,” he began, “has not been named. I had planned on doing so if I were ever summoned to great purpose. Fate, it seems, has given that task to you.”

“I am honored, forge master,” Groge replied.

He hesitated before accepting so great a gift. He certainly had no claim on such grand creation. Groge was just an apprentice and unworthy. He had earned no honor.

“May you use this hammer only in the darkest hour,” Joden said as he took up the hammer and passed it to young Groge.

“Then I pray I never have to use it.”

The forge master nodded at the answer. He rose. “It is time.”

The old Giant led the way back to the central square where the rest of the band of would be heroes awaited. Dozens of Giants were gathered as well. Blekling and his group of sycophants stood in the center. A perpetual sneer twisted his face. His mistrust of their guests heightened since Bahr went against his wishes three nights ago. No strangers had come to Venheim for centuries and he wished to keep it so. Man was a prejudiced beast incapable of true understanding. They killed what they didn’t understand, eradicated what they couldn’t fathom. Blekling saw his world crumbling even further and vowed to arrest that progress before Venheim became a true legend.

Joden stopped before the warden of Venheim and offered a curt bow. “The Chosen is prepared to undertake his journey and find glory in the name of the gods.”

“Is he?” Blekling asked. He rapped his heavy iron staff on the ice-covered ground three crisp times. “Step forward, Groge of the Barish clan.”

Mighty hammer strapped across his wide back, Groge obeyed.

“What is going on?” Dorl whispered.

Nothol shrugged. “Beats me. Looks like more song and dance keeping us from getting on.”

Anienam passed them a menacing glance.

The Giant elder continued. “Do you understand what is being asked of you?”

“I do.”

“Long have our people been the custodians of the secrets of steel. Entrusted by the gods, we have protected that secret here in the highest peaks of the world. Today you embark upon a sacred quest to retrieve the Blud Hamr. Only this weapon has the power to defeat the rising power of the dark gods. Darkness will consume Malweir should you fail. Are you prepared to devote your life, if need be, to the completion of the quest?”

“I am.”

“Then go with the blessings of the gods and those of your people.” His final words were spoken with venom. Clear disdain was etched across his broad face.

Groge took his place beside Bahr. The company was now complete.

Blekling turned to the Sea Wolf. “I do not expect to see you again. This quest will be dangerous and worse. Know this, should you by chance succeed, you and your kind are not welcome to return to Venheim.”

“That’s a shame. I was just picturing where my new home would look best,” Boen answered gruffly.

The Gaimosian in him begged for a fight. It took much for him to refrain from lashing out at the nearest Giant and issue the challenge.

Blekling fumed, even as Joden struggled to conceal his amusement. The forge master almost admired the smaller Gaimosian. Red-orange glow from nearby forges painted the village, almost making it seem serene and majestic.

“Be gone from here!” Blekling all but shouted and stalked off.

Dorl Theed clicked his lips together. “Huh. He’s not the sort to be invited to a party, is he?”

“No. I don’t think he plays well with others,” Nothol agreed.

Joden moved next to Bahr. “Not all of us are as closed as Blekling. The well wishes of all good people go with you. Bring back the hammer and end the threat of the dark gods for good.”

Bahr nodded crisply. “Thank you.” He turned to his companions. “Let’s go, it’s time for us to leave.”

The old man swung into his saddle and started to leave. He’d taken all he could of the Giants and their outdated ways. Still, the experience left him with conflicting emotions. Hinder or help, the Giants were divided. The prospect of using the Blud Hamr was clearly more important than he gave credit for. Well, Bahr thought, I have no time for that. What had begun as a personal quest to rescue his niece quickly devolved into a nightmare. He still wasn’t sure how he got involved with saving the world. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either.

He glanced over at Maleela and wondered if he was doing the right thing.

* * * * *

High above, the three Hags stirred awake. Stretching their dark wings, they watched the tiny band of heroes amble out of Venheim. They stretched legs and arms, loose feathers drifting lazily down. Hours of inactivity left them cold and hungry. Claws flexed and clenched repeatedly. Sharp eyes strained to make out distinct individuals. The hunt would soon begin anew.

Freina watched the wagon roll with casual interest. She’d been contracted to prevent the old one from reaching Trennaron, but her heart wasn’t in it. Her only concern was perpetuating her species. So very few of them remained.

“Do we hunt?” Brom asked. Her scratchy voice reminded Freina of two swords scraping together.

Freina looked to each of her sisters. Both seemed eager to be underway.

“Yes,” she replied.

“Finally.”

As one the Harpies took flight. The hunt had begun.

A New Hope

Brackish mists swirled around a glade of muck and refuse, surrounded by trees long decayed. Three figures emerged from the blackest shadows. Robed and cowled, the memories of their mortal lives nothing more than fractured nightmares haunting pathetic existences, they remained hidden from themselves. The powers of the dark gods twisted them into the foulest creatures. The Dae’shan were finally assembled. Lidless eyes stared from their cowls.

Amar Kit’han regarded his peers with unveiled animosity. Neither would hesitate to assassinate him the moment he no longer proved useful, or showed a decided lack of power. His authority was the only thing keeping him alive and he wondered if it was enough. The notion of removing the others slowly came into play. Kodan Bak was easily the most aggressive. His lust for power rivaled Amar’s though he lacked clarity of vision. Pelthit Re, however, was more devious. Often tending to work alone, Pelthit enacted plans within plans, sometimes contradictory to what the overall group strived towards.

“You play a dangerous game, Pelthit Re.”

Re hissed. “No more than you. I do only what our masters wish of me.”

“The kingdom of Delranan has already fallen to us,” Kodan Bak agreed. “As has Rogscroft. We are succeeding at last.”

“Delranan is not yet ready. There is still too much strength left in Men,” Pelthit insisted darkly. “Much needs to be done to break them properly.”

Amar Kit’han was not convinced. “What of the daughter of Badron? She may yet prove our undoing. The Hags tell me she travels with a knight.”

“I have met this knight. She should prove no problem,” Pelthit replied.

“Can we be sure?”

“No more than any of us.”

But could he be sure? Amar considered their position. A band of mortals, now accompanied by a Giant, was heading south on a quest to retrieve the fabled Blud Hamr. The one weapon capable of defeating the dark gods forever. With them was a knight of the supposedly vanquished holy Order, though the band remained ignorant of her true purpose. The situation was proving much too close for his comfort. Now was the time to act, and he had but one option.