Hammers in the Wind (26 page)

Venten threw the wounded man down to his knees and lowered his sword to the base of the man’s neck to ensure he didn’t make any sudden moves. The prisoner winced at the flash of pain. A deep gash ran down his right thigh. Venten slapped a hasty bandage over the wound lest the man bleed out before being questioned.

“I don’t have need of another corpse,” Aurec told his best friend as the other half of the raiding company arrived.

Venten spat. “Of course, my lord, though it’s no big loss.”

Aurec squeezed out a strained smile. “Your opinion is well known. Can he still walk?”

“Not well. He definitely needs a horse to get him back to the city.”

Aurec reined back his horse and slid from the saddle. He grimaced at the sight of the prisoner’s mangled thigh. His own body was suffering. The battle had not been a kind one. He allowed his hardened eyes to meet his prisoner’s.

“What is your name?” he asked.

The mercenary looked down and remained silent.

“There is no harm in a name. All of your friends are dead and you’ll be joining them soon if we don’t get that wound treated.”

“I’m not telling you nothing,” the mercenary ground out.

Venten backhanded him across the side of his face. “That’s a prince you’re speaking to, scum.”

“Not my prince,” he replied. Dark malevolence lined his eyes.

Venten drew back to strike again. “Mercenary filth.”

“That’s enough, Venten,” Aurec cautioned. He knelt down in front of the mercenary. “My friend does not have the same tolerances that I do. Now, your name.”

Laughter mocked him.

Aurec leaned in closer. “I’m not asking again.”

“There is nothing you can do to me. I know that I am already dead.”

“No, you only think you are,” Aurec stunned him. “The way I see it you have two choices. You can either cooperate and tell me what I need to know about the coming invasion or I make you feel so much pain you’ll beg for death.”

The mercenary didn’t even blink. His arrogance forced Aurec to smirk. “Are you sure this is the way you want to do this?”

“The only way that makes sense to me. Do your worst, little princeling.”

The prince smiled darkly and spun away. “Venten, put a tourniquet on that wound and bind his hands. I want him in the dungeons by nightfall.”

“What about the others?”

“We left a few alive in the hopes they’ll lead us back to their camp.”

Venten scratched the corner of his mouth. “I doubt there is a camp. We are too close to the sea. Common sense says they have a ship nearby.”

“More than likely,” Aurec agreed. “But we have a duty to find out. Take your half of the men and return home. I’ll scout the shoreline.”

Venten started to protest. “I’m not going to go back and explain to your father why I left you out here.”

“No buts, my friend. Your group did all of the fighting. The men deserve a break. I will be fine.”

“As you wish,” Venten conceded. “Hurry back. The king will be anxious for your report.”

“We’ll be back as soon as we can.”

*****

The gentle sounds of waves lapping against the shore greeted Aurec and his men like an old friend. Advance scouts had already returned with negative reports. The beaches were empty. Still, Aurec led them on. He was tired. They all felt it. They’d spent the better part of the day fighting and hunting the Delrananian mercenaries. Each man knew they were successful, but a sense of emptiness hung over them like a pall. The mission remained a failure until they had proof that the entire enemy had been destroyed.

“Anything useful to tell me?” Aurec asked.

Mahn shook his head. “Nothing but a few blood trails. There’s a broken sword but not much else.”

“They had a boat.”

“It looks that way. We saw tracks from a long boat.”

Tears welled in the corners of his eyes. Aurec couldn’t bring himself to say it. Maleela was gone. Emotion was the last thing he needed. He still had a duty to his men.

“We’ll get her back,” Mahn whispered.

Aurec forced a smile. “Form up behind us. We’re going home. I’m sure Venten is fuming right now with me gone.”

He led the column back, confident that the danger had passed. Aurec’s mind was on everything except for what he was doing. Kidnapping Maleela was the spark responsible for igniting this building storm. All of the kingdoms in the north knew of Badron’s propensity for spontaneous violence. His wrath was legendary, even amongst the Dwarf clans. There was no doubt as to his reactions. The king of Delranan had been embarrassed, and worse. His bloodline was destroyed.

Aurec regretted the killing his counterpart, but the man gave him no choice. He frowned at the memory. No one was supposed to have died. He made that specifically clear to Maleela and Lord Argis both when they’d come to him at the behest of the underground movement. One death and all of their carefully crafted plans were in danger of being undone. Aurec realized one future truth: there was no way Rogscroft could survive, even with the aid of the Pell Darga. Worse, he didn’t know what to do to stop that end from happening.

*****

“Our scouts in the lowlands report the Wolf soldiers are moving,” Sint Ag told the war leader.

Cuul Ol’s heart darkened at the news. This was a war he’d long dreaded. He looked to his fellow warriors. All bore the same concerned look. For that he was glad. Distressing times demanded strong will.

“How many?” he finally asked.

“Many. We cannot fight them and win.”

Cuul Ol stood abruptly and walked away from the warmth of the fire. The darkness consoled him. Winter threatened to be bad this year. He gazed up at the veiled stars and prayed the snows came early. Wisps of clouds marred an otherwise perfect night. His people held strength, but there was no amount available to oppose the will of the Wolf soldiers. The Pell Darga were familiar with these soldiers, clashing numerous times over the course of their long histories.

Sint Ag continued, “They come fully armed. Their horses are well armored. This is no skirmishing force.”

“No. They come for war. This time will be different.”

Murmurs swept through those assembled.

“We will fight nonetheless,” growled a large man of too many summers.

Cuul Ol sighed. “Yes. We will fight, but not the way in which you think, Durgas.”

“What do you mean?” Sint asked.

“The Wolf soldiers do not come to make war on us. They go to attack Rogscroft. This is our advantage.”

Durgas stood. His skin was browned dark and leathered. His face bore the creases of a great veteran. “Then the Wolf soldiers are not our problem. Let the lowlanders kill each other.”

“We will not abandon our allies, Durgas.”

Durgas shrugged. “It is their destiny. They bring war upon themselves. Why should Pell Darga die for any of them?”

“We sealed a pact with the blood son of Stelskor. The tribes of the Pell Darga owe him a debt. This is our way, Durgas. To go back on our word means dishonor. I will not be named so.”

Durgas snarled at Cuul Ol and addressed the others. “You all know me. I am no coward, nor am I shamed by my words. Let the lowlanders fight each other. We have suffered enough at their hands. This is not our war.”

“Your words make sense to all of us,” Cuul Ol surprised him by saying. “But there comes a time when every people must look beyond themselves. That hour has at last fallen on the Pell. Brothers, I have given our pledge of support to Prince Aurec. The tribes will meet this foe, but on our own ground.”

Sint Ag added, “We do not have the strength to face them.”

“I have no intentions of it. The enemy is strong. Their weapons and armor will slow them down where our own warriors can move freely. We can strike more often and melt back into the mountains. Our pact is to strike their supply lines and reinforcement columns. No tribe or war party is to attack a large unit. This is the only way.”

Cuul Ol fell silent with the knowledge that the others would differ to his logic. They were fierce warriors and smart enough to know when victory was next to impossible. Striking the supply lines would prove difficult and equally rewarding to the war effort. His warriors were up to the challenge. Even should the main army try to corner them and counter attack there was no real danger. The Pell would disappear back into their mountain shadows.

“What of the horse soldiers about to gain the passes?” Durgas finally asked in quasi defeat.

The war chief gave him a toothy grin. “Let them pass. Aurec and his army will be waiting. Each of you should go and ready your warriors. The enemy will soon be here.”

*****

“Has he said anything yet?”

Venten shook his head. “No, my lord. He remains defiant.”

Stelskor watched the prisoner with great interest. “Perhaps he knows nothing of importance to us.”

“There is little doubt the man is a mercenary, but he has to know more than he lets on.”

For his part, the mercenary ignored them. He focused on any sign of weakness that might lead to his escape from this prison. The prince scared him, surprisingly enough. The king and his henchman were plain inexperienced in this sort of business but the prince showed almost too much restraint.

Stelskor moved close enough to the bars to make his guards flinch. “Do you know who I am?”

“That little brat princeling’s father.”

“I am the king of Rogscroft. Even a mercenary should know better when addressing such,” he admonished.

The mercenary sneered but was otherwise unfazed. Death was already a conclusion. “My apologies, king, but a man in chains doesn’t much feel like entertaining customs.”

Stelskor backed away a step. “Perhaps some time here in our dungeons will cool your temper. I look forward to your stay.”

Silence. The king and his men spun and headed towards the ironbound entrance door. Stelskor was the last to leave. He cast a withering glance over his shoulder, silently offering one final chance. “You are the kind of man who is worth the coin paid you. I appreciate that. How much has Badron paid you?”

“Why?”

The word bounced off of the slime-slickened walls. It was more accusation than question.

“I can use men such as you in the future. You are a mercenary after all.”

The door slammed shut leaving the prisoner shackled in near perfect darkness with misery his sole companion.

“He will be a tough one to break,” Stelskor told Venten halfway down the hall.

“All men have two things, sire. A price and a breaking point. If one does not work we will try the other. He will fold, we just need to try harder.”

“Will he be of any use when he breaks?”

Venten shrugged nonchalantly. “He is mercenary scum. I would put no faith in him.”

“Anyone can be bought, Venten, as you so thoughtfully reminded me.”

“All the more reason not to trust him. He is of Delranan blood. No matter what happens, he is the enemy.”

Stelskor disagreed. “He is a prisoner of war. Perhaps you are right. Break him, but do not treat him so bad as to give fuel to Badron’s rage. I want to know everything he knows. Troop strengths, time tables. All of it. Our position has grown perilous if Badron’s killers can sneak inside our castle and steal with impudence.”

Venten didn’t add the obvious fact that they were the ones who had precipitated this action by doing the very same thing less than a month ago. Curiously, the invaders had killed no one during their raid.

“He will break,” Venten confirmed.

The king gently gripped his arm. “Do what must be done.”

Venten waited until the king and his retinue were gone before letting a wicked smile crease his face. He quickly summoned the jailor. He was going to enjoy this.

*****

Prince Aurec rode with a mixture of sorrow and disappointment. Not even the sight of the castle his great grandfather had built offered solace from the misery consuming him. Maleela was gone. The enemy was sending their entire army. His people were not ready. He had failed. The only thing he couldn’t figure out was what had gone wrong. He’d gone to Delranan to save the woman he loved from a horrible life and succeeded in bringing war to both kingdoms.

The idea that he alone was responsible for the calamity befalling the northern kingdoms was ridiculous. Badron needed no encouragement to unleash his hatred upon the world. The fact that the Wolfsreik had been so easily assembled and deployed was testament enough. Aurec’s guilt should have been absolved, but he felt worse. He failed and his people would suffer for it. Aurec couldn’t decide which was worse, the guilt or the pain. Loud cheers brought him out of his self-induced misery. Aurec looked up in surprise at the hundreds of people lining the main avenue cheering his return.

He stared in disbelief as the people of Rogscroft, his people, celebrated what they believed to be a triumphant return. He wasn’t a hero, and he certainly didn’t deserve such praise. What he didn’t know was that word of his victory had spread through the city. It gave them hope, a fire to keep them warm before the coming storms. They had won the first victory in a long war. He had no choice. Aurec reluctantly smiled and waved back.