The Madness of Gods and Kings (9 page)

Chance Encounter

They were blindfolded and bound to their saddles. Brusque hands shoved them into compliance. Their captors balked at the sight of Groge, threatening to break and run until one of the rougher ones put his blade to Bahr’s throat and threatened to split him open. Groge complied willingly. The rest were put atop their horses and forced along an unfamiliar path. Bahr guessed they travelled for the rest of the day before halting for the night.

He was the first to de-horse. Hands tied behind his back, he was led into a stand of thick pines. The center had been cleared out. A handful of stumps dotted the ground with their trees lining the circle to form a protective barrier capable of hiding them from prying eyes. The warmth of a fire kissed his face and his heart sank. Harnin had captured them. The quest was over.

“Remove his blindfold,” a woman’s voice ordered.

Bahr stiffened. The last he knew there were no women in Harnin’s army, nor was he keen on finding any. Rumor had it that Harnin was partial to finding satisfaction with other men. Bahr didn’t know, nor did he care. The only thing that mattered was here, now. His blindfold was dragged off his head. Cold fingers scraped across his brow. Bahr blinked rapidly to get used to the light quicker and tried to take in his surroundings.

The clearing was as close to a field command area as his captors were going to get. A few cots were set up on the far side with packs and other bags stacked nearby. Tree branches arched, forming a natural dome. What little snow managed to drift in melted quickly. He heard sounds of movement outside the clearing, suggesting a large number of men and women.

“Where am I?” he asked, deciding to sound firm. Each of his captors wore different clothes. They were either mercenaries or specialty commandos Harnin started using after Badron went on campaign.

The woman raised her hand sharply. “I’ll ask the questions here, Bahr, brother of Badron. What are you doing out here?”

He suppressed a frown. How could she possibly know who he was? There was no better way to find out. “How do you know my name?”

She laughed in his face. “You didn’t think the brother of the king could go unnoticed in his own kingdom, no matter how far west we are, did you? You are not the most welcome person in Delranan at the moment.”

“I haven’t been in Delranan for months,” he protested, genuinely confused. “In fact, I only just returned. You have me mistaken.”

“I think not. I’ve seen you several times, enough to recognize you no matter how grey your beard grows or the lines on your face deepen. This is not the same kingdom you once knew.” She fell silent, questioning her next move. The relationship between brothers was well documented throughout the kingdom yet Bahr didn’t seem interested in discussing it. Perhaps she was wrong?

“Tell me, Bahr, if you haven’t been in Delranan, just where have you been? Don’t lie. I have no problem ordering Orlek here to cut your throat,” she told him.

Not feeling the threat she promised, Bahr did. He glossed over several key areas. Whoever this woman was didn’t need to learn about the Blud Hamr or the quest to stop the dark gods. At least not until he discovered whether she was another of Harnin’s agents or not. When he was done he was exhausted and, near as he could tell, so was she. Mention of Boen set her back some. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting to run across a Gaimosian, or a Dwarf and Giant for that matter. If she learned nothing else from his tale she learned Bahr traveled with dangerous companions.

“It appears I have been rude to you, Captain, but I needed to ensure you were not in league with that bastard One Eye,” she said with measured tone. “My name is Ingrid and I am the leader of the rebellion. Welcome to our camp. I believe there is much for us to discuss.”

The rebellion! How it came to be led by a woman was a mystery. The last he knew Lord Argis had returned to assume the leadership position. Had matters gone so drastically wrong in such a short period of time that he was no longer with them? Having been a prisoner in Harnin’s dungeons himself it didn’t take much thought before his mind wandered down foul paths best left forgotten.

“Thank you, Ingrid, but I can’t sit here in comfort while the rest of my companions are out in the cold freezing,” Bahr said.

“They will be taken care of, now that we recognize you as friend. Orlek, please see to his companions,” Ingrid ordered.

Orlek, a swarthy-looking man in Bahr’s opinion, gave him a withering glare and followed his instructions after a moment’s hesitation. “Clearly he’s not as convinced as you are.”

Her gaze lingered an extra moment longer on her second in command before she turning back to her guest. “We have endured a great deal of turmoil in your absence, Bahr. Delranan is not the kingdom you were born in. Darkness rots the heart. Brother turns on brother without thought. Many thousands have died this winter and, unfortunately, there is no end in sight. I fear for the future.”

It gets worse and I’m not sure you can handle it
. He contemplated telling her about the dark gods’ influence and their urgent need to get to Arlevon Gale but wasn’t convinced himself that she was who she claimed to be. Anyone in her position would almost have to consider turning him over to Harnin in exchange for a reduction in hostilities. He admitted he’d be hard-pressed to ignore such a proposition if he was in the same position.

“As much as I’d like to help, I need to know more,” he said.

Ingrid pursed her lips, debating how much to divulge. In the end she realized there was no actual choice. The only way to garner the brother of the king’s aid was to appeal to his patriotism, if any remained. Bahr was notorious for having turned his back on Delranan in pursuit of his own interests.

“Harnin has roughly seven thousand men at arms. Most are the Wolfsreik reserves but enough of the citizens have sided with him to significantly bolster their forces. Rumors of Badron’s return from the war have centralized his focus to the east where the main body of soldiers is busy constructing a series of redoubts and fortresses. He clearly intends on jamming up the Wolfsreik long enough to make it a war of attrition. I’m hoping he does.”

Bahr frowned. The last he’d heard the army had abandoned his brother, at least according to Artiss Gran. The truth in that remained to be seen. “I don’t see how that will help your rebellion. From what I gather you are either seriously under strength or spread too thin to be effective. Whatever battles are fought in the east will only delay the inevitable. Whoever wins will eventually turn their eye west, to you.”
Not to mention I’ll have to fight through two armies to reach the ruins. Can this get any more difficult?

“Harnin is desperate to finish us off before the king returns. He can’t and he knows it. We’ve estimated he’s thrown close to two thousand men at us. We’re hitting supply trains and small patrols every chance we can get and, while it’s gone far in disrupting his war-fighting capabilities, he still has enough in store to starve us out before spring.” She shook her head fervently. “I can beat him. I know this, but I need more than what I have.”

Bahr exhaled a careful breath. “We didn’t come here to fight a war, Ingrid.”

Anger flashed in her eyes. “It appears some things are incapable of changing. Aside from wasting my time, why have you returned to your birth kingdom?”

“That…is a tale for your ears only,” he stated flatly.

* * * * *

“Why are we wasting our time with these people?” Ironfoot asked Boen. Naturally disgruntled, the Dwarf wasn’t prone to sitting idle when important matters needed to be done. “We should be on our way east to finish this affair with the dark gods.”

Boen casually stirred the long-handled wooden spoon in the stew pot. “Bahr knows what he’s doing. Remember, he’s the brother of the king.”
A fact none of us knew until after we’d rescued Maleela. Interesting, the secrets we keep
.

Ironfoot tossed his meaty hands in the air. “I don’t care if he’s the bloody king of the world. We are losing valuable time. What’s the point in dealing when we have a Giant among us? Groge could swat their people like insects.”

“Calm down, Ironfoot. Your ire won’t help our situation. We felt much the same way while your own king dithered over our intent. This is but another temporary setback.”

Ironfoot’s face shaded crimson. Planting his feet shoulder width apart, he folded his arms across his chest. “Setback? When did Gaimosian knights become known for their patience? I say we move. Now.”

Boen shook his head, fondly recalling his own rash adolescence. There was a time when he wouldn’t have waited to make a move. Sitting still like this offended him but he’d been among the others long enough to utilize his limited amount of patience. They would either get to the ruins in time or they wouldn’t. Those were the only real options. All of the pressure lay on Bahr’s shoulders, not his. When the time came for him to get involved he would. Until then his focus was on dinner.

“You realize Groge isn’t a warrior? Even with his immense size there’s not much he can actually do. Even if he wanted to. Here, taste this. It’s missing something but I don’t know what.” Boen chuckled under his breath as he raised the spoon for Ironfoot.

The Dwarf snorted and stormed off.

“He’s a jolly sort,” Rekka said as she took his place by the fire.

Boen nodded. “Dwarves are an odd breed, that’s for sure. I’d rather have him on our side than against us. Give him a little time to settle down. Dwarves aren’t known for their even temperament.”

“The more I witness of this world the less I understand it. So many different races with so many different beliefs and ways. It is very confusing,” she confessed. “Life was much simpler in the jungle.”

She paused. Memories of the jungle and her village of Teng would never grow more than what they were now. Banished, wrongfully, for the death of Cashi Dam, Rekka could never go home again. Her heart twisted with guilt, but for reasons other than Cashi. His love for her was false, based on an empty premise from when she was a child. Now she was forced to sever all ties with the people she’d grown up with, abandon all of her friendships and loyalties, and live a hollow life wandering like a Gaimosian. Unless Artiss Gran decided to keep her on.

“Malweir is a strange and wonderful place. That’s part of the beauty of being Gaimosian,” he said and paused. “Not that there’s much, mind you. We have no kingdom, no place to call home. But I’ve wandered from ocean to ocean and dealt with practically every race in the world. The wealth of experience alone is irreplaceable. Of course I still haven’t seen a dragon yet. That would be something to claim before I head for the ground. A dragon.”

“The histories all say the dragons are either dead or have returned to their ancient homeland of the Crystal Mountain. I do not think you will be able to achieve your dream.”

“It is good to have dreams, even if they never come true,” Boen countered. “What do the jungle folk dream of?”

Rekka found the question unsettling. She’d long held the belief that she knew without doubt which direction to take her life. Recent events shattered that carefully constructed world, leaving her trapped in unknown horizons. The notion was both unnerving and invigorating. “Elves,” she blurted out before realizing it.

Boen’s eyebrow rose. “Elves?”

Slightly embarrassed, she nodded. “Yes, Elves. I’ve never seen one, at none other than Faeldrin and his mercenaries.”

“I’ve seen plenty. If you think Giants and Dwarves are strange wait until you run into a band of Elves. They’re the happiest folk I’ve ever seen. Maybe they know something we don’t, who knows? There’s none in this half of Malweir, though. Most of them stay east of Averon,” Boen said. “Those Aeldruin are strong fighters, but not representative of their people. Most won’t lift a sword unless they have to. A damned better people than me to be able to do that.”

She empathized. Secretly she longed for the day when she no longer needed weapons to get her point across. Malweir might not be the friendliest of places, but there had to come a time when violence failed to solve matters. Sadly, it was naught but a dream.

Her thoughts dissolved on her tongue at the sight of a warrior marching sternly towards them. Boen noticed her change in demeanor and glanced up. The man was one of the ones who captured them.

“I’m Orlek, I was ordered to provide you all with shelter and what little food we have to spare.”

Boen nodded his appreciation and subtly unclenched his fist. “My thanks to you, though we don’t need your food. We’ve enough of our own, for now.”

Orlek was unimpressed. Whether they ate or not wasn’t his concern. He’d done what Ingrid instructed. As far as he was concerned his task was complete. “That’s your business. The boss doesn’t want you to starve or freeze tonight. Looks to be a rough one. Bundle up and take shelter under the cover of the trees. That should protect you enough.”

He glanced over Boen. Even without weapons the big man was a formidable opponent. He doubted there’d be much of a fight. Even with his knowledge of hand-to-hand combat, Orlek wouldn’t last long. The idea was mildly enticing and might prove entertaining if the weather permitted, but now wasn’t the time.

“Best get moving now, while there’s still some daylight left,” he added. He started walking away but stopped and turned. “Where are you from?”

Boen grinned savagely. “Nowhere.”