Hammers in the Wind (2 page)

He slowly pushed the ancient door open. The sky continued to brighten. It was now a muted shade of grey; still dark but light enough for him to see where he was going. He knew that Delranan, and perhaps all of Malweir, was now locked in a season of change. It was a time for myths. Trolls and Goblins, dragons and wizards. It was a season for treachery and betrayal.

He took his first step towards freedom and was met by the touch of cold steel at his throat.

The night was no different from any other for the drunken masses in Stouds Town. The Dragon’s Bane had just returned to port after months at sea. Perhaps the most famous vessel in the northern kingdoms, her captain and crew often inspired new heights of drunken rowdiness. Tonight was no different. Fresh from the conquest of riches and women, her mildly depleted crew stood proud upon her decks while the harbor master finished guiding her in. Her captain was a great bear of a man with more experience at sea than many had on land. He watched with mild disinterest as flocks of gulls and pelicans trailed in the Bane’s wake.

“A good stein of ale and a wench will do me just fine,” his first mate said.

Bahr smiled. “Aye, though I doubt your wife is going to feel the same.”

Bahr had a reputation throughout the northern kingdoms. Both fair and cruel, he was a hard task master who demanded the very best from himself and subordinates. He was old now, of course. Grey streaked through his hair and beard. His waistline was stretched to accommodate his love of red meats and fine ales. Despite that, he was still the bane of the Northern Ocean. Legends sprang from his deeds and inspired the young.

The first mate’s mood darkened at the mention of his wife. “Doesn’t mean I still can’t convince her it would be in her best interests as well, Cap’n.”

Bahr barked a deep laugh. He was about to reply when he spied the group of armed men awaiting them on the dock. He whistled under his breath. The axe slung over his back suddenly sat anxious. The blade was worn and in need of serious repair but Bahr had never felt more comfortable with any weapon. Bahr fought the urge to draw it, if only for the comfort of the leathered handle.

“Not the welcome I was hoping for,” he said under his breath.

“I knew Badron had it out for you, but this is a bit much.”

Bahr nodded. He and the king had had plenty of bad encounters through the years and there was no lack of bad blood between them. Normally they pretended the other didn’t exist, which made the sight of Harnin One Eye and a handful of royal guardsmen all the more disturbing. Bahr slowly made his way down the gangplank and stood before his confronters.

“I’ve no business with you, One Eye,” Bahr snarled.

Harnin held a staying hand up. “There is no love lost between us, Bahr, but I would have words with you on behalf of the king.”

“I haven’t struck you down yet have I?” Bahr asked a bit gruffer than intended. “You talk. I’ll listen and you buy.”

Harnin exhaled an aggravated sigh. “Agreed.”

Bahr left the mooring to his first mate and the harbor master and followed the king’s man to the Albatross’s Nest, one of the better taverns in Stouds. They found their table and Bahr drank heartily for the first time in over two months as Harnin explained the dire aspects of the night prior. Bahr’s eyebrows rose at the mention of the Pell Darga. The Shadow People.
Ha, only mad men and fools out to make a name for themselves dared go into their haunted realm.
Long moments of silence settled between them.

Bahr broke it with a deep laugh. “Harnin king’s lap dog, we shall never like one another I believe, but there is an undeniable passion in your tone. I care nothing for the politics of this situation. Badron deserves what he gets. The bastard will be the ruin of this kingdom. But the Pell Darga! If what you say is true, I would not wish their evil on my worst enemy. My axe would love to drink their blood.”

Harnin feigned interest by nodding. “So the king may count on your support?”

Bahr, revered around the north as the Sea Wolf, raised his hands. “Whoa now. You’re putting too much into my words. I don’t consign my crew on some fool’s errand blindly.”

Harnin shifted uncomfortably. “The king wants to put together a group of misfits and hired killers to bring his daughter back. We need your boat to take them east of the Murdes Mountains and wait for their return.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Bahr scowled. “Why me? There are plenty of other ships.”

Ah, so you suspect the trap
. “Of course there are. But none of the captains have, shall we say, such strong loyalties to their convictions.”

Bahr sat for a moment. The decision was almost too heavy for a singular speck of time. He had much thinking to do. “I will bring it before my crew. They have a say in this as well if they are being asked to risk their necks.”

Harnin stood and gathered his bear skin cloak about him. “You have two dawns. After that the group departs, on your decks or that of another.”

“Two dawns and you will have my answer. Find me here.”

Nodding curtly with just a hint of condescension, Harnin took his leave.

A thunderstorm rolled in shortly after Bahr’s officers and closest friends gathered in the Nest’s common room. Those still sober deemed his proposal ill fortune and refused to drink more lest their opinions be forgotten to drunken stupor as the night progressed. Most knew of the bad blood between captain and king as Bahr was not one to keep his opinions private. Badron was not a man to be trusted at his word. The throne was naught but a crooked chair filled with deceit and ill will. Best they set sail now and be gone before Harnin returned to damn them all. Let Badron deal with his own problems.

Bahr listened to them all with growing interest. While it was his name at the heart of all of the homespun tales and legends, it was the combined efforts of his crew that made it all work. He was nothing without them and their opinions were equally important. Many were close enough to be considered his right hand. They’d saved each other’s lives countless times and were worthy of far better fates than what they prepared for. How could he tell them that he had already decided?

He sighed, forcing himself to relax. There was nothing for it. His mind was set. All that remained was for the fates to carry out their whims. He would live or die by their graces. Bahr propped a boot on the empty stool beside him. The crew didn’t know it, but he was patiently awaiting the arrival of two others this night. Hopefully they would be on the same train of thought as he, making them an invaluable contribution to this quest. Hells, even if they weren’t, he was still damned glad to have their talents alongside. Bahr settled back for the wait and drank deeply from his mug as the debate continued.

*****

Skuld slipped from shadow to shadow, catlike and wraith-like. Harsh winds drove a stinging rain into his exposed flesh, soaking the young thief to the bone.  He grit his teeth and pressed on. As harsh as the weather was, Skuld knew it was the best time to catch potential victims unaware. Tonight of all nights should bring him luck considering the Dragon’s Bane was docked.

He stole his way past the docks, avoiding the oil lamps lining the main avenues. Rain stole the smell from the corpses rotting on the central gallows. He looked into the shattered faces of those poor souls and swallowed hard. Skuld was no fool. He knew the hangman’s noose waited should his luck run dry. The noose wouldn’t care how young he was. Whispering a prayer for the dead, he threaded his way past the swaying bodies. A lone crow cawed at him in warning from atop the frame.

Then he stumbled upon a pair of armed men. Both were tall and built for battle. Skuld knew he’d be cut to ribbons if they caught him. Fortunately it was their conversation, not their purses, that caught his attention. The teenage thief ignored the crow’s warning and followed at a respectable distance, close enough to hear their words.

“I don’t like it one bit,” growled the large blonde brute on the left. A pair of long swords bounced seductively across his back with each step.

His partner laughed. “What’s not to like? This quest seems as good as any other we’ve been on.”

“The Shadow People are well enough left alone. They don’t need us coming a stomping into their lands. Badron wants us all dead I think.”

Long black braids sweeping down past his shoulders moved with his shaking head. “Badron doesn’t even know your name you bonehead. I can see it now. I want Nothol Coll’s head! Ha! There’s a laugh. You worry too much.”

“I was just saying,” Nothol replied.

“We’ve been doing jobs together seven years and every single one starts with your same dire predictions. It does tend to get old, my friend.”

Nothol Coll scowled. “You mark my words, Dorl. This will end badly for all of us. And don’t go giving me that look. I’m only saying what you’re thinking.”

“I think I like you better when you’re drunk.”

“I like being drunk better than thinking about this,” he snorted.

Dorl Theed rolled his eyes. “Relax already. Whatever Badron has planned is his own business. He is the king after all. All we need do is trust in Bahr. Besides, when have you ever known the Sea Wolf to go blindly into danger?”

Nothol spun on his friend, finger pointing accusingly. “Raiders and barbarians are one thing. Going off to find some fictional treasure is one thing. These are the Pell Darga. The heart of the Murdes Mountains! Is there any path more dangerous?”

“Only the road to damnation’s gates,” Dorl replied calmly. Much of his earlier good humor was gone. “Think of the treasure those bastards have hidden deep in their mountain haunts. We’d be rich men forever.”

“Won’t make a damned bit of difference if we’re not alive to spend it.”

Dorl slapped him on the shoulder. “That’s more like it! You make me thirsty. Come on, Bahr is waiting.”

“Maybe I can talk some sense into him,” Nothol Coll grumbled. “You listen like my last wife.”

“Not likely, I don’t have the figure for it. Bahr is as headstrong as they come. Good luck changing his mind.”

“Assuming he’s actually going to go through with it.”

“Naturally.”

Nothol shook his head. “Navy men aren’t very good on land.”

Dorl barked a laugh. “You be the one to tell him that. I value my neck too much.”

The big man tried to shake the image of the Sea Wolf rampaging into them with berserker rage. Both were highly skilled warriors with numerous years of campaigning between them, but Bahr possessed the one thing most common foot soldiers lacked: guile.

“We can still tell him ‘no,’” Nothol finally said, his mind clear again.

Dorl was genuinely surprised. “And let Badron find some other poor fool for the task? Where’s the fun in that?”

“The Pell Darga in the Mountains of Death,” he snorted. “You have a sick sense of humor.”

Dorl gave him a sly smile. “I know. It helps me keep life unpredictable. Now, are we just going to stand around in the damned rain all night bickering like two old ladies or can we go and enjoy some of Bahr’s hospitality and hear what he has to say?”

“I already know what he has to say.”

“You’re impossible. Come on.”

Skuld let them go. He only caught parts of the conversation but that was enough to arouse his fears and greed. Like most people, he knew scattered bits of lore about the Pell Darga. It all revolved around terror, but the very thought of hordes of untold riches sent a chill down his soaked spine. Skuld suddenly found an opportunity he never thought to have. He had a chance to make a name for himself and rise above the filth of the gutters. To him the risk was well worth the reward.

The thief yawned, though he knew sleep was a long time in coming. Visions of demons and gold plagued the narrow corridors of his mind. He practically salivated at the idea of becoming rich. No more petty pick-pocketing for him. No more jeers from the adults or taunts from children. He could return rich enough to buy his own kingdom. A smile creased his thin lips. Lightning crackled in the far off mountains. Skuld made up his mind. He had to find a way to sneak aboard the Dragon’s Bane.

*****

The proprietor of the Albatross’s Nest wore a constant toothy grin. He always stood to make a pretty profit when the Bane was in port. Tonight was no different. Add the threat of the brewing thunderstorm and people practically flocked inside. He’d already gone through two kegs of ale and three roasted goats. His fat palms were greasy with greed and spilled ale. At the center of it all was the talk of Badron’s quest. Naturally he wanted nothing to do with it. He’d never been the adventuring sort. Leave that to others like old Bahr conversing in his private room. Still, he found himself watching the seamen with growing interest.

A thick cloud of smoke clung to the ceiling. Most of the tables were standing room only. Men and the occasional Dwarf spoke in hurried tones. A roaring fire cackled and spit embers. The door groaned open to allow Nothol Coll and Dorl Theed entrance. They shed their rain-soaked cloaks and stretched out their shoulders. It felt good to be dry and inside. The sell swords wormed through the crowds and past the suddenly concerned proprietor. He said nothing, merely pointed towards Bahr’s room. Dorl nodded and kept walking.

“You two certainly took your sweet time in getting here,” Bahr growled once they closed the door behind them.

“A philosophical discussion,” Dorl said disarmingly. “It seems our friend Nothol has taken to pondering the complexities of life all of a sudden.”

Bahr gave a quizzical look and kicked out a stool for him to sit. “That’s a dangerous thing for a fighting man.”