A Whisper After Midnight (18 page)

Anienam finally set the book down and leaned back, folding his hands over his stomach. “That is a story set in mystery and wonder. Magic, so far as we know, has always existed. A gift from the gods before they left or so the wisest of us wrote. The Mages, however, came from a very specific place. We’ve theorized that magic is inherent in many of us but can only be awoken by a subliminal trigger. Elves and Dwarves have had such powers long before Man evolved, but it was in forgotten Gaimos that magic first appeared in Men.”

Skuld’s eyes widened, forcing Anienam to chuckle.

“That’s right. Home of our very own Boen. Gaimosians were highly receptive to the powers channeling up from the earth. After the fall of Gaimos many fled east. They were drawn by something none understood. We know now that it was the pull of magic. They seemed destined to rise above what seemed like a war of annihilation and for a time they did. Magic flourished and the order of Mages grew rapidly. Soon enough Mages spread across Malweir in search of others. The order continued to grow. Ipn Shal was built in order to conserve our knowledge and provide a school to teach and learn. Magekind soon occupied the most important positions in many courts.”

“It must have been a grand time,” Skuld said breathlessly.

“I trust it was, one I wish I would have seen,” Anienam said. “Ipn Shal is nothing but haunted ruins now. A memory of what used to be. I fear when I am gone so too will the wealth of ages’ worth of knowledge. It is a sad thing, but inevitable.”

The doors opened suddenly with the quiet echoing sound of hobnailed boots marching in. Groge stalked behind a quartet of guards. His face struggled to conceal the raw emotions chewing his insides. As much as he wanted to shout out the news from Thord, he had been given specific instructions to not speak in front of the entire group. The king hadn’t exactly threatened to go to war against Venheim so much as insinuate it. Regardless, Groge decided prudence was his best course of action.

“Bahr and Anienam Keiss, you are summoned to an audience with the king of Drimmen Delf,” the Dwarf captain announced with a deep, thunderous voice. Even Boen appeared impressed with the commanding tone.

“It’s about time,” Bahr muttered under his breath, failing to take into account Dwarves’ outstanding hearing.

Scowling, the Dwarf captain patiently waited for the Men to join them. Silver ingots were plaited in his long beard, giving an almost regal appearance. Bahr studied the Dwarf as he got closer. Barely four feet tall, he was nothing but a mass of muscle with a perpetually angry scowl. Bahr almost felt they might have been friends in another life. Silver torcs wrapped around his biceps, the same colors as his eyes.

“Follow me,” the Dwarf growled and spun about.

Bahr waited until they were well down the torch-lit corridor before asking, “How long did it take to make all of this?”

The Dwarf passed a secretive glare to his companions. “All of what?”

“Your city.”

Muscles flexing, the Dwarf stopped abruptly and whirled on Bahr. “Drimmen Delf is the jewel of the Dwarven kingdoms, matching your Paedwyn.”

“I’ve never been myself but I hear it’s a real nice place,” Bahr countered, refusing to be cowed by his keepers.

The Dwarf scowled fiercely. He wanted to attack but feared the repercussions from King Thord. Discipline was held highly in their society and any lapse, intentional or otherwise, would be met sternly. A public shaming would hound him for generations.

“Drimmen Delf was built on the sweat of thousands of Dwarves over one hundred years. Few are those permitted within our halls, especially those not of our kind. King Thord is a proud man and brokers no ill will towards other races; neither does he find time for their inconveniences. You would do well to mind your tongue in his presence.”

“I’ve had enough of kings, Master Dwarf. Comes from my brother being a lousy one,” Bahr sneered. “I’ll show your king the respect due, don’t fret.”

“Enough of this pointless banter!” Anienam scolded them both. “You are the brother of the king of Delranan and you are the voice of the king of Drimmen Delf. I expect you to behave as such. We have important matters to discuss and I don’t need the two of you acting like children.”

Properly scolded, Bahr and the Dwarf nodded to each other and continued on to the throne room. King Thord sat well back on the throne, a leg up and chewing on a meat-covered bone. A handful of advisors milled around the base of the throne all muttering for attention. Stacks of parchments piled high upon the old table brought in for these meetings. Thord had little patience for the politics behind running a kingdom. He was bred to be a warrior and only ascended to the throne because of a foolish clause built in to Dwarven law. Never wanting to be king, he reluctantly settled in and realized he was in over his head. He was content to let the advisors try and figure out how best to run the kingdom while plans of warfare fell in his lap.

He looked up at Bahr and Anienam with relief. “Ah, the pirate and his wizard friend returned with my new Giant friend! Thank the gods. I grow wearisome of my advisors and their petitions. The young Giant tells me you wish to speak of the war. Good. I am more comfortable dealing with battles and troop movements. Be gone, lowly ones. I have important matters to discuss.”

Thord brushed his advisors off with grease-stained fingers and they filed away with mocking bows and curses under their breath. “Damned bureaucrats will be the death of me. I need to feel a good axe in my hand and the sting of wind on my bloodstained face again. Wars make us who we are. This,” he gestured to the expansive throne room, “This drives us all mad.”

“Precisely why I never wanted to fall into the trappings of kingship,” Bahr replied.

Thord regarded him for a moment, his eyes crisp and accusing. “A wise man. If only I had been so fortunate. Alas I wasn’t and here I sit, trapped in a world not of my making.”

“There’s a lot of that going on, your majesty,” Bahr replied. Most of his earlier animosity was gone, replaced by the idea of getting his people set free and on their way to Trennaron.

The Dwarf king nodded thoughtfully. “My captains tell me you have ideations on our little civil war. Tell me, what know you of Dwarf wars?”

“Absolutely nothing but that doesn’t mean I don’t know war,” Bahr said. “As we speak, my brother wages war on two kingdoms. Three great peoples are being subsumed under the heavy strain of combat and slaughter, all at the behest of the dark gods and their pawns on Malweir.”

“You expect me to believe this nonsense? There are no gods left on Malweir. Everyone knows that. We are alone here. The old gods fled, leaving us to our own perversions.”

Anienam stepped forward. “That’s not entirely true, King Thord. The gods may be gone, but the dark gods are forever seeking to return and lay claim. Their agents walk among us, seeking to turn great men evil and ruin as many lives as they can in the process. They have come to the northern kingdoms with lies and temptations. Bahr’s brother has succumbed to their whims, no more than a puppet in a great lie. Their war has already engulfed two kingdoms and threatens to spread across the entire north. How long before it reaches these halls?”

“What proof do you have, wizard-son?” Thord asked, eyes raised. His superstitious side wanted to believe, to accept the gods hadn’t abandoned Malweir at all. His practical side, however, demanded more than what he’d just heard. He needed proof if he was expected to give in and aid these Humans on their quest. Thousands of Dwarves depended on his judgments to guide them in the right directions. Going to war against the powers of darkness definitely wasn’t in Drimmen Delf’s best interests.

“Physical proof? None, but your scouts will be able to confirm we are being tracked by a trio of Harpies. We travel with one of the Giants of Venheim, a race practically none thought existed anymore, to the fabled city of Trennaron to retrieve the Blud Hamr. Check with your scholars. They can confirm the Hamr’s only use. Don’t be so quick to abandon rationale, Dwarf king. Malweir’s history is laced with times when the dark gods tried to return.”

“I know all of that, but what you speak of is ancient history,” Thord protested, weakly. “Present times have no need for gods or their return. How will any of this help me in my war against the dark Dwarves?”

Bahr cleared his throat with a sudden thought. “Perhaps by admitting that these dark Dwarves were turned by the very powers we seek to stop and come to pen you under your mountains while the true war rages elsewhere, effectively removing you from the equation entirely.”

Thord opened and closed his mouth, teeth snapping shut harshly. “You suggest we are not relevant? Dwarves have lived under these mountains for millennia. Much of your great treasures were built from our sweat, Human. Don’t think to come into my throne room and threaten me when I give in to whim and grant your audience.”

“That’s not what he meant,” Anienam rushed to stop the damage. “Bahr speaks a measure of truth. You are too close to the situation. Too used to thinking the same way. We merely seek to give you an outside perspective that will help you turn the tide and end your war as quickly as possible.”

“While convincing me to let you cross my lands on your foolish quest,” Thord finished tartly.

Anienam flashed his most charming smile. “We’re not really asking for much compared to what we’re willing to deliver.”

Thord’s laughter rumbled across the room like a thunderstorm breaking the heavens. His face burned crimson and tears trickled from the corners of his eyes. “I’ve fought in many wars, wizard. I know my business well. The dark Dwarves will break on our shields and flee the field. We are the Dwarves of Drimmen Delf and no greater force can be fielded in all Malweir.”

“Let us help you and you can add to your combat effectiveness. We have a Giant and our very own Gaimosian Knight, not to mention the talents of one of the last remaining wizards.”

Bahr cast Anienam a reluctant glare.
Not much of wizard if you ask me. I’ve had better stable boys.

Thord’s expression turned dark suddenly, serious. “And we have weapons the likes of which have never been seen in any other kingdom.”

“This is pointless, Anienam. He’s not willing to budge and we’re wasting our time. Let’s just get the hells out of here,” Bahr snapped, unwilling to sit through the charade any longer.

“How dare you!” Thord raged. He leapt up, dropping his meat in the process. “I give the courtesy of hearing your schemes and you insult me to my face. By my beard! I ought to have you all strung up by your necks and cast from the mountainside.”

“My lord I assure you there is no need for that,” Groge interrupted. “These are good people, with good hearts. I confess I do not understand their ways, but I trust them entirely. We must be allowed to find the Hamr. All of our fates hinge on it.”

Hearing the Giant’s words calmed him slightly, but Thord remained incensed at Bahr’s casual disregard. Others lost their heads for less. Pride struggling with prudence, the Dwarf king managed to retake his seat and breathe normally. “Were it not for your Giant friend you’d already be dead, but he is kin and I will heed his words. Captain Ironfoot.”

The gruff Dwarf captain edged closer, hand hovering over his axe. “My lord?”

“I am putting our guests in your care for now. See to it they are fed and given the opportunity to clean up. Tomorrow they will march with me to the forward command center at Bode Hill. They want to fight our war, let them.”

Bahr and Anienam exchanged unmistakable looks.
What have we gotten ourselves into
?

A Different Kind of War

Cold winds whipped across the plain, making Bahr shiver. He pulled his bearskin cloak tight and scanned the gentle, rolling hills stretching for leagues to the south. A wide plain at the base of the hill that was once peaceful and serene had been transformed into an ugly network of trenches, bunkers, and wire obstacles. A scattering of broken skeletons littered the area. He had seen war before, but nothing like this.

Monstrous engines of a sort were dug in positions behind both lines. Mostly iron, they had large, round barrels and were built on carriages. Each was manned by six Dwarves. Stockpiles of ammunition were stored close by. Bahr couldn’t imagine any use for them. Catapults and ballistae required leverage and used stone and arrow. All he saw were round balls of black metal.

Thousands of infantry massed in ranks stretching across the valley. The sounds of smiths and armorers repairing weapons and armor hovered over the encampment. Great fires burned, packs of Dwarves huddled around them for warmth. Unlike in the great halls, they were somber. Days of trench warfare had turned to weeks, and weeks to months. They were haggard, ready for the tide to break so they could wipe their enemy from the field.

Bahr squinted as breaking sunlight struck the hundreds of iron barriers in front of the trenches. Each was massive and shaped like an “x.” Beyond that lay strand upon strand of wire. Bahr had never seen the like. Wars were meant to be fluid, not static like this. Most armies didn’t rely on defenses or barriers. The Wolfsreik attacked with speed and strength, smashing their enemies under great weight. The Dwarves seemed content with digging in and waiting.

“What are those barriers?” he asked.

Ironfoot grunted his displeasure at being questioned by an outsider. “We call them dragon teeth. They are quite effective at halting an infantry assault.”