Hammers in the Wind (28 page)

“Delranan is my kingdom. I have given everything in her name and asked little in return. My fate is sealed. I will go back and meet with this underground. The decent people of the land deserve no less. Like you said, Anienam, there comes a time when we must look past our own selfish interests.”

Maleela let a bright smile sprawl across her face.

“I hold none of you accountable. You are free to go as you see fit once we dock,” he continued.

He took no comfort from their surprise. Each was now forced to come to terms with their own inner demons and decide what was more important: themselves or an entire population.

“I had wondered when you planned on returning to me,” Badron calmly said as the ethereal figure of the Dae’shan materialized.

Amar Kit’han made no move. He had evolved beyond the simple whim of kings. Disdain poured from him. The Dae’shan glared back at the king, arms folded within his billowed robes.

“Am I supposed to guess what you want?” Badron asked once he grew bored.

“Badron King, matters have changed beyond our sphere of control. Your daughter is now on her way back here,” he replied tersely.

Badron leaned forward. His mind raged silently. “You are not Kit’han. Who are you and why have you come to me unbidden?”

Pelthit Re nodded approvingly.
This
one just might hold potential
. “Very astute of you, king. My name is Pelthit Re. Amar Kit’han is my,” a treacherous pause, “brother, for lack of a better term.”

Badron snorted. He was in no mood for games. “Another one. I do not approve of these games your kind insists on playing. One might think you a blight against humanity.”

“Take heed with your tone, king. I am not my brother. I have no grievance with ending your life prematurely.”

Darkness swarmed out from his bony form. Badron ducked backward as waves of pain lashed into him. Fingers of fire lanced into his muscles, penetrating down through the marrow of his bones. He cried out but the Dae’shan had shielded the room with magic. He only stopped when Badron raised a weak hand in surrender.

“Enough,” he gasped. Smoke burned from his flesh.

Pelthit Re folded his arms back over his chest and waited for Badron to rise. “Do not doubt me again.”

Anger flashed behind his eyes. “What is it you expect of me?”

“Your people must not be allowed to see her alive. She is a danger to all you have planned. There is but one way to solve this situation.”

A small sense of horror sprang to life deep inside. “You want me to kill my own daughter?”

“You have spent your life with nothing but hatred for this girl. Killing her is your best hope for the continued success of your plans.”

Badron felt insulted at the coldness in his tone. “What you ask I am unable to give. I may hate her, but I will not raise my blade against her. She is my own flesh and blood and I will not willingly strike her down.”

Pelthit Re slumped his shoulders. “Then we have already lost. Her princeling lover readies his people for your war. Your invasion will suffer greatly.”

Anger finally boiled over. Badron smashed his fist into the wall. “That royal bastard is the reason war comes to them in the first place! He broke into my home and killed my son. For that I vow to kill every man, woman, and child in Rogscroft. My revenge will be absolute.”

“Not if your daughter returns alive.”

Badron narrowed his eyes. “You already know my answer.”

Pelthit Re paused, rehearsed and manicured. “There is another way.”

“I’m listening.”

Badron turned his gaze to the window as the Dae’shan outlined his nefarious plan. The first hint of sunlight cracked the far horizon. There was a small measure of comfort in the rising sun. Once, long ago, he enjoyed this time of day. But that was before his beloved wife had been killed.
Ah Rialla, why did you have to leave me
?

Pelthit Re finished and studied the king’s facial movements with mild interest. He recognized fear and uncertainty, but there was more. Could it be longing? A sense of emptiness dating back years? The Dae’shan ignored it. He’d done what was necessary to propel the future. With a little luck Amar Kit’han would never know of his involvement. Pelthit Re knew he was taking a big chance in forcing Badron to act so rashly.

“I cannot afford to keep prisoners at Chadra Keep. It is too dangerous. None of those men are loyal to the throne,” Badron finally concluded.

“Every man has a price, king. All you have to do is discover what that price is.”

Badron shook his head. “No. There are too many variables. It would be best to accuse them of treason and be done with it.”

“The final decision is yours, of course, though I must caution you on one matter. The army must march before your brother and daughter return.”

“To what purpose? Your argument is flawed. There is no need for haste if I am going to condemn my brother.”

Pelthit Re already knew this and it didn’t fit into their plans. “The Wolfsreik is the issue, not your blood. Every delay is a day wasted. Your enemies are preparing for war. Do not hesitate. Give them what they want. Send in your armies and raze that city to the ground. It is the only way to ensure success.”

“Time is now my enemy as well,” Badron mused. “The list grows longer.”

“Ever is the way of mortal life.”

King Badron summoned up the courage to stare down the Dae’shan. It took every ounce of his strength to meet those cold, pale eyes. His knees went weak. Doubt flickered in his thoughts.

“I do not trust you, Pelthit Re. You would wield me like a sword with one hand and then cast me down as soon as I am no longer needed. Why me? Why now?”

Resisting the urge to lash out and crush the spark from Badron’s heart, Pelthit Re simply replied, “Because you are the one. My masters have seen your potential and know that you can be the instrument of their freedom. There are things I do not take upon myself to question.”

“Leave me now, if you will. I have much to think on,” Badron said weakly.

Pelthit Re bowed. “Do not think too long. Time flees from your grasp even as you struggle to understand.”

He wrapped the shadows around himself and disappeared.

“Damnation,” Badron scowled. “What have I gotten myself into?”

Only the gentle sounds of the winds kissing his ancient Keep answered him. Badron felt truly lost, and not for the first time. His lust for power was being checked by prudence. These Dae’shan frightened him almost to the point of abandoning his plans. The king of Delranan sighed his frustrations and went in search of Harnin, and answers.

“Inform the general that I will be there personally to oversee the first units deploy,” Harnin told Argis.

Argis asked, “Who rides with them? There should be a strong command presence from the king’s circle.”

“That is for the king to decide. He has yet to let me know.”

Argis shifted uncomfortably.

“Is there anything else, Lord Argis?” Harnin accused.

“We have heard no word of the mission to rescue the princess. Does the plan to invade still stand if she is rescued?”

Harnin frowned suspiciously. “You ask questions above your station. Whatever the king decides is his business. He is the ruler of this kingdom. It is for us to obey our commands.”

“I am not debating that legitimacy. I merely think the men have a right to know before they go into battle.”

“What exactly should they know, Argis?” came Badron’s booming voice.

Both captains turned and bowed to their king.

Harnin cleared his throat. “Lord Argis and I were debating if the army needs to know about the quest to rescue Princess Maleela before they deploy.”

“I do not think we should worry about matters that do not concern them. The coming war is going to take all of their strength and martial prowess. Let them concentrate on the fight. We can worry about those other matters.”

“Yes, sire,” they answered in unison.

Badron said nothing more on the matter, but his suspicions were already raised. He knew Harnin was as deep in this mess as himself. Murdering the house jarl went a long way in securing his silence. Argis was another matter. He could easily turn into a dangerous liability. The king stared once at his trusted captain. The time was fast approaching when those he deemed unreliable would have to be culled.

He turned slowly, fixing his gaze on Harnin. “What is the status of my army? Are they ready to begin the march?”

“Enough of them are.”

“Meaning what exactly?” Badron asked.

“Sire, General Rolnir says he is close to seventy-five percent strength right now. He believes, as do I, that we are strong enough to secure a foothold in Rogscroft and begin combat operations before winter sets in.”

“The sooner we attack the better. I am tired of being mocked by those lesser sons,” the king hissed. “Does the general give an estimate on how soon the rest of the army can deploy?”

“He is confident that they can be underway within the month.”

“That is unacceptable. The Wolfsreik’s strength lies in a full-combat contingent, not scraps of units.” Badron struggled to keep his anger checked.

“Delranan is a large kingdom. It takes time to assemble so large a force with arms and supplies,” Harnin protested.

“I would have thought the supplies had been collected from the first muster. Are you telling me that my best commanders and advisors are incompetent?”

Harnin offered no answer. He knew Badron well enough that there was no point in arguing.

“Inform General Rolnir I will be riding with the main body and I expect him to have his army in order before we leave.”

“Sire,” Harnin nodded.

“And Harnin, I fully expect to be moving before sunset.”

Badron stalked off, leaving both men to wonder what had turned his mood so foul.

*****

Rolnir crumbled the message and threw it angrily to the ground. His adjutant, Piper Joach, looked up expectantly.

“The bloody king has decided to join the main army group,” Rolnir scowled.

Piper laughed. “He must have great confidence in us.”

“That’s not the problem, Piper. You and I both know he’s only going to be in the way. I might as well hand over command to him and stay home.” Rolnir snatched his canteen and drank deeply. “Still, better him than that idiot son of his. We’d never make it beyond the border with him in charge.”

“Not all of us are ready to lead men into battle.”

The general found reason to laugh. “Neither one of them have much martial potential. Badron might prove to be an issue. I think I am going to need you to run interference once we cross the mountains.”

Piper shrugged nonchalantly. “That shouldn’t prove a problem. Stelskor’s pickets and scouts are going to give us a handful until we can get enough combat power on line for the advance.”

A company of light cavalry rode by. The looks on their faces whispered an amused tale. All of the rhetoric of king and kingdom was past. They were heading for the front lines, expecting to be the first in combat. Young men and old, they were carried a mixture of bravery and fear. Dread anticipation filled the recruits as veterans idly wondered who was going to live and die.

“That will be the most dangerous time. You have to hold until I can get the first infantry battalions deployed,” Rolnir explained.

It wasn’t necessary. Piper was the second most competent man in the army. He was one of the best of the new generation. He was also the heir to the army.

“We’ll hold,” Piper answered confidently.

Rolnir smiled. “I have no doubts, my friend.”

He laid a reassuring hand on Piper’s shoulder. “You’d best get out of here. The king will arrive shortly and I’d just as soon have your vanguard as far ahead as possible.”

Piper nodded. “Sir, I will see you in Rogscroft.”

Rolnir saluted even while questioning if they would. Wars were never easy. Nor was placing your friends in harm’s way ahead of you. Rolnir trusted in their training and discipline to see them through.

“All right people, fall in!” Piper barked to his command. “Sergeant Major, get the ranks in order. We leave now.”

Soldiers scrambled. Horses neighed and pranced in tune with their master’s urgency. An excitement settled over them all. Weeks of preparation had come down to this one moment. The vengeance of the Wolfsreik was finally set to be released. The army was going to war. Corporals and sergeants barked orders as the company formed up.

“The company is formed, sir,” Sergeant Major Bors announced proudly.

The playfulness of the encampment was gone. One hundred and twenty light cavalrymen sat in ranks of ten. Sunlight gleamed from the polished silver helms and breastplates. Barbed pikes rested in stirrups, dressed through the ranks. Every last man in the company bore serious looks. Many struggled with the fact that not all would return. Such was the eternal debate of the soldier. The uncertainty should have bothered them, yet it was the furthest thing from their minds. Gone were thoughts of family and friends. All that mattered was the man to the left and right.

The war had just begun.

“Gentlemen, my brave soldiers. Today we embark on the grand quest. Rogscroft has stolen the sole remaining heir to the throne. The king, your king, has declared war! We are marching to the enemy lands to make them pay for their crimes,” Piper paused to look as many of them in the eye as possible. “The honor of first blood belongs to you!”

A great cheer rose.

“Sergeant Major!”

Bors edged forward. “Company….attention! By platoon, forward…. march!”