A Whisper After Midnight (34 page)

“Right how? We are embroiled in a quest way above either of us, in the middle of lands we’ve never been to, walking with Giants, Elves, and Dwarves, and looking for a mystical city that may or may not exist. What could possibly make sense in any of that mess?”

Nothol didn’t want to admit it, but his stomach remained in knots over their increasingly desperate situation too. There was an unnatural air cast about them. One he didn’t know how to combat. Fighting Dwarves and Harpies was one thing, but agents of enemy gods went far above anything he’d ever encountered before. Truthfully he wasn’t sure if he had what it took to go the distance and see the quest to its conclusion. He couldn’t find enough of a reason to go against his best friend, nor could he find it within himself to abandon the others. Nothol Coll stood on the edge of a predicament he didn’t understand with no viable way out. He sighed.
When in doubt forge ahead and hope for the best
.

“Maybe we’re not supposed to understand,” he finally said. “Not much of it makes sense to me but my gut tells me Bahr is going to need each of us to stop the enemy.”

“What enemy? We’ve been captured and tortured by Harnin’s Men. Attacked by brigands and Harpies since we escaped but what else? Rekka had her encounter with a dark creature in the woods around Praeg and you and I both know there are plenty of dark things in the world best left undiscovered. What else? I haven’t seen any evidence of Anienam’s dark gods or these shadow people that have him spooked.” He shook his head. “I can’t help but think we’re trapped on a wild boar hunt.”

The others started setting up camp for the night. A heavy barge was docked nearby, waiting to be loaded. There were a handful of swarthy-looking Men lounging on the deck. Their skin was dark from overexposure to the elements, their hair long and unkempt. Each wore a hardened look that was more than just for show. They lived hard lives. Winter in the north was no place for weak Men to try and earn a living, especially on the water. Only the very tough and very foolish braved working the river now.

“Hey, what are you two yapping about?” Boen growled from the opposite side of his horse. The look in his eyes told them he wasn’t in a forgiving mood.

Nothol raised his empty hands. “Nothing, just talking about old times.”

“If it’s nothing you can do it later. There’s work to be done, ladies.”

Scowling, the Gaimosian ambled off towards the barge with Bahr and Ironfoot.

Dorl pointed an accusing finger at the big Man’s back. “That I’m tired of. We didn’t sign on to be treated like children.”

“You’re reading too much into it. He’s a Gaimosian and that means a pain in the ass. They aren’t hired for their people skills, my friend. Come on. I don’t want to get chewed out again,” Nothol said and walked off.

Anienam sat on the driver’s bench quietly listening to their conversation. He couldn’t blame them for wanting to back out. He would if he could. Meddling in the affairs of the dark gods was no way to make a living. Wishing was a pointless endeavor. Rarely did dreams come true, even less did they work out anywhere close to what you wanted. No, disappointment was the currency of the realm. A universal statement that was unavoidable. He’d seen it hundreds of times over his life. Men and Women struggled through their daily grind only to be caught up in moments much too large to handle. The crash and burn followed swiftly.

His life was a string of disappointments. There were times when he wished his father had never found him. Never initiated him into the order of Mages, or rather what little remained. Anienam often caught himself wondering what a normal life would have been like. One where he knew nothing of magic or the vagaries of the dark gods. One where he etched out his days on a farm or in a market, bartering and trading exotic goods from across Malweir. Sadly, such was not his destiny.

All of the signs pointed towards the climax to many thousands of years of struggle between light and dark. He felt it burning in his blood. The time was fast approaching when opposite sides would collide and turn the world to ash. He knew balance would survive and past wrongs would be righted, but at what cost? How many tens of thousands needed to perish first before the tragedy finished playing out? One of the basic tenants of his teachings claimed all life was precious. He found it difficult to accept that the rule applied to the vilest of Men, that any of the Dae’shan retained a shred of mortality or decency.

Anienam spent years debating with his morals but no answer ever presented itself. The Dae’shan were the worst sort of evil. They’d given up their souls in order to achieve a dark power locked to the rest of the world. His knowledge of the order was limited, for most of the records were destroyed during the Mage Wars or before. The Dae’shan hadn’t always been evil. Once they served neutral purpose. They roamed the world executing the will of the gods. But as in all things, corruption took root. They fell. Darkness claimed them with an irreversible hold. What had been pure now festered.

He thought perhaps it had all played out the way it was supposed to, that the races of Malweir were intended to go through such trials. But to what ends? Nothing he imagined was worth the agony of the moment. Whole generations lived and died without ever knowing peace. The unending struggle just to survive was too much for many more. Whatever games the gods played he doubted it was worth so many lives. Anienam wondered if the world would be a better place without any of the gods. Certainly there’d be far fewer conflicts or threats of unimaginable disaster.

So he sat and listened to the sell sword’s complaints, secretly sympathizing with him. Dorl Theed wasn’t a good Man, but neither was he bad. He paid his dues and struggled through life in the best way he knew how. Tough men were forced to live tough lives. He and Nothol had gone into some of worst situations Anienam could imagine and come back out with barely a scratch. They were the kind of Men he wanted at his side when things went terribly wrong. That such rough Men were few and far between was both blessing and curse. Anienam liked to think that one or maybe both would still live when the quest ended. It was a pleasant fantasy.

Hopping down from the wagon, Anienam started whistling an old melody, the origins long forgotten. He was about to unpack his bedroll when Ionascu cackled.

“We’re all going to die. You know this, wizard.”

Anienam frowned. He’d nearly forgotten the crippled Man was still with them. “Oh shut up. Or you’ll find your way to the bottom of the river.”

“Should I be afraid? I know one thing you don’t.”

“What is that?” Anienam winced, knowing he shouldn’t have bothered.

Ionascu sat up and looked him directly in the eye with a moment of rare clarity. “I am already dead. My soul suffers as we speak.”

Shaken, the wizard stumbled away. Alacrity was unexpected in one so broken and abused as the former spy. Ionascu was little more than a shadow of what he might have been. Harnin’s torturers were professional if nothing else.
Why then do his words strike deep chords? A creature like this shouldn’t do more than elicit a smile
. Anienam decided to clear his mind. He’d had enough double talk and nervous feelings. Thinking the river might given him better clarity, he soon stood on the mighty shore, well downstream from Bahr and the others. This was no time to converse with them. Not in his current state. Still, that didn’t stop him from eavesdropping on the Sea Wolf and the river Men.

“Half now and half when we arrive at the final destination,” Bahr argued.

The river Man threw up his hands. “How can I feed my family if you not pay? We don’t know you. You can rob us too easy.”

“Nobody is going to rob you.”
If anything it’ll be the other way around
. “But we’re not going to pay you for services you haven’t performed. You get us there and you get the rest of the money. You don’t and your kids will starve before spring.”

Pretending to think, the river Man held up a hand and went back to the rest of his crew. They spoke in a low, guttural tongue that seemed animated and aggressive. One of them barked a deep laugh before being hissed quiet by the others.

“We should just get take the barge and get rid of them now,” Boen suggested.

Bahr might have thought the Man was joking if he didn’t know the Gaimosian so well.

Faeldrin shook his head. “No. Doubtless there will be tolls and unseen checkpoints along the way. The river folk may be hard workers but they are mistrusting and will slit your throats if you provide the opportunity. Bahr, do not waiver. They will respect you if you stand fast. I’m sure your offer is more than sufficient.”

“We’re risking a lot on a handful of scum,” Boen added.

Ironfoot listened to the exchange and had to agree with Boen. River Men were of the worst sort. They stole and killed when they had the numbers. Trusting any of them was a death sentence. Sent as King Thord’s personal representative, he didn’t feel it his place, yet, to get involved with their affairs. He’d never been in the company of Men for long and learning the rules proved complicated at best.

Bahr nodded slowly, never taking his eyes off of the river Men. “They must know we’re on to them.”

Faeldrin cocked his head. “Doubtful. They’re not counted among the wisest of any race. I think they truly believe we are hanging on every word, hoping for the best.”

“More the fools them,” Boen replied. “They don’t look very crafty. Even if they get the jump on us I could probably take them by myself.”

“Don’t be so sure, my friend,” Faeldrin cautioned. “Vengeance Knights are renowned the world over for being the very best, but our rather dim new friends aren’t interested in reputations. You being who you are won’t keep them from trying to kill you in your sleep.”

“All the more reason to kill them now.” Knowing he wasn’t going to win this fight, Boen headed back towards the wagon. He’d spent too many months pent up with Bahr and the others. Too many easy nights sleeping in soft beds and eating better than a Gaimosian should. Bahr was a capable Man who didn’t need a Vengeance Knight hanging around to get him out of scrapes.

“We need more up front,” the river Man said upon returning. “Half not enough. Think of our families.”

“I am thinking of your families. Without us you will all perish. Getting us down river as quickly as possible is in your best interests. Half now. That’s final.”

The river Man pretended to think again. His narrow eyes constantly roved between Elf, Dwarf, and Man. He knew Bahr. Everyone on the water knew the Sea Wolf. That didn’t change the fact he intended to rob him blind the moment Bahr wasn’t looking. With a reluctant smile, the river Man threw up his hands. “You hurt my heart, and I know my family will suffer but deal. Half. No funny stuff though. We have a reputation.”

They shook on it, all the while Bahr tried to keep from bursting into laughter. The only reputation the river Men had was one of murderers and thieves. “We’ll load in the morning and set off right after first light.”

“Fine. Fine. Night is no time to travel the river. Too many foul things lurk in the night,” the river Man agreed. “In the morning.”

“Do you think they’ll still be here in the morning?” Ironfoot asked once the river Man was far enough away.

“We haven’t paid them yet. They’ll be here. Then the fun begins,” Bahr said.

Indeed. There will be more fun than you can imagine
. Anienam tried to clear the foul thoughts from poisoning his mind. He knew the river Men’s true intent. They’d been touched by darkness. It was only a matter of time before they turned and tried to kill Bahr and the rest. No point in lamenting what hadn’t happened. The wizard sighed and cast a slender pebble into the river. The hungry waters lapped it up without so much as a ripple.

Schemes

Amar Kit’han studied the ball of flame curled in the palm of his hand. The soft blue-heat tickled his shadowed fingers. It was a rare moment of Humanity. So rare he’d nearly forgotten what he had once been. Life was so fragile, so easy to break. Becoming Dae’shan was the logical conclusion to what his life was. Branded a petty criminal and murderer, he was hunted down, driven from one village to the next. He had to abandon society and took to the wilds.

He couldn’t recall his name nor where he originally came from. Those details didn’t matter. He had no desire to remain Human. To squander what little life was given to him. He wanted more. The gods heard his pleas. It was no accident the night the Dae’shan came to him with their dark temptations. Perhaps he should have said no. Should have turned them away but temptation proved too powerful. He gave in and sold his soul.

What happened next was the end of one life and the beginning of something else. Neither alive nor dead, he became a monster. The flames consumed him. Unimaginable pain wracked his body as the Dae’shan used their fell powers to un-create him. Flesh melted from his skeleton. His bones incinerated to dust, blown away in a soft breeze. It lasted months. They claimed the pain purified him. It removed the petty Human jealousies. The weaknesses of flesh and mind. Through fire and pain he was reborn. Remade into a greater power. He mattered.

Stripped of his mortal frame, the fragility of his thoughts and limitations of body and spirit, Amar Kit’han immersed himself entirely in what he’d become. He’d found being unsubstantial disquieting at first. Having no body wasn’t right. It was only when he began to explore his newly bestowed powers that he accepted what he was. Like so many who had come before, he fell under their spell and became a monster.