Haven Keep (Book 1) (2 page)

Deeper into the cave the air grew colder, damp, and heavy.  Ancient paintings appeared in sporadic intervals, decorating the stone walls.  The three edged further and further into the passage, and the images on the cave walls became more common, eventually covering the stone surfaces from floor to ceiling.

Von smiled, remembering childhood games played here not so long ago. In their minds they became pirates or fought mock battles, slew dragons or stormed castle walls.  It was never hard to get his imagination going, not when surrounded by scenes of conflict between armies on land and ships on the open sea.  Fanciful creatures from tales long forgotten adorned the walls, dancing across solid rock  in the flickering light.  Dragons, sea serpents, banshees, and other horrors Von knew no name for, came to vivid life.  He wondered if they were the artist’s concept of demons from the Rift.  Locals claimed the paintings were ancient, from as far back as the time of the Dragon Lords.  If that were true, maybe this treasure of Dell’s was from that time too.

“You say you had caves like this back home?” Reece asked Von, for what must have been the hundredth time.

“Not exactly,” Von answered.  “There was one cave.  It wasn’t this extensive.  I used to go there with my brother and a few friends.”  Maybe that was why he so enjoyed coming here. The time spent in the cave reminded Von of his brother, helping Von keep his memory alive.

That memory pained him.  His whole family was gone, killed in the war that destroyed his homeland.   In an instant his life was changed forever.  He was a little boy all alone in a strange, unknown world.  Alone until Baiden bought him.  He knew he had a good life now, the problem was, he wanted his old life back.

He put those thoughts out of his head and finished answering Reece. “Our cave was big, more open, but it didn’t have any additional passages.  There was a fresh pool of water, probably like this cave once had before the spring and West Well went dry.”

“Sounds exciting,” Dell said sarcastically.  “I bet it didn’t have any buried treasure.”

“No,” Von admitted.  “No paintings, and no buried treasure.  Although I did leave something there once.”

“Who cares?” Dell asked.  “When we retrieve what’s at the bottom of this hole, you’ll forget everything you ever dreamed about before.  We’ll all be able to buy our freedoms.  Even you Von.  We’ll buy your freedom for you.”

“Thanks,” Von said, his voice as sarcastic as Dell’s.  “I appreciate the thought.”

The fact Von wasn’t a native bound him by different customs than his two friends, customs almost as strong as law.  In their free time Dell and Reece did chores to earn extra money.  Money they could use to buy their freedom, pay off their indentured servitude early.  Von, a foreigner, didn’t have that privilege.  He could earn extra money, but not buy his freedom. He was a slave in all but name.

“How much farther?” Von asked, his mood less jovial than before.  Reminders of his family and situation often gave him melancholy feelings.  Events in his early life left him scarred, his heart broken, but he did his best to appear happy to others, and after so many years the anguish was finally turning dull.  He still ached, constantly ached, but the pain was not so raw and jagged anymore.  It was almost bearable.

“It’s just up here,” Reece answered.

“Yeah, just around this next bend,” explained Dell.  He picked up his pace, his growing excitement evident.

The cave narrowed, curved, and narrowed more.  Von turned his wide shoulders to ease through.  It was a tight fit, even for Reece.  No wonder they’d never come this way before.  Von ducked and slid between the narrow cave walls.  His chest and back scraped along the damp rock, the coil of rope catching on the rough surfaces.  Von removed the rope from his shoulder in frustration, holding it behind him in one hand, his lantern out front in the other.  He flattened against the rock wall, barely squeezing through the tight passage, ducked and turned, following closely on Dell’s heels.

The cave eventually opened into a small room, its porous walls marred with old tool marks.  Someone from long ago had worked at enlarging this room. Von wondered why anyone would bother.

A large hole dominated the center of the stone floor.  In the dim light it was impossible to view the bottom.

“That’s it!” Dell exclaimed.  “Bring the rope. I want to see what’s down there.”

“Hold on, don’t you think Reece should go down?  He’s the lightest.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Dell admitted.

Von uncoiled the rope, and tied a double bowline at one end.

“I’m glad you two feel comfortable enough to volunteer me,” Reece said accusingly.

“Hey, you could lower me down,” Von offered.

“Oh sure,” Dell said. “You’d pull us all down in there with you.  That, or we would need an ox to pull you out.”

“You calling me fat?” Von asked.

“Yes,” Dell joked.

Von’s tall frame and hard muscle made him the perfect candidate for holding the rope. Baiden started training Von as a blacksmith soon after Von arrived in the north, and years working at the forge had given him a strong powerful body.

Reece slipped the loop under his arms.  “Okay, I’m ready.”

“I’ll drop a light down so you can see,” Dell offered.  He lit a cloth bound torch and  tossed it over edge.  The flames illuminated the hole, revealing an old wood and iron box hidden in the shadows at the bottom.

“See, I told you,” Dell proclaimed triumphantly.  His eyes gleamed with anticipation in the faint light.  “We’re going to be rich.”

Von had to admit the box did look like all the treasure chests he had ever imagined.  Since he’d never seen a real treasure chest he couldn’t say for sure.  He exchanged excited smiles with his friends.

“It’s not too far down,” Reece said, “but I still wouldn’t want to fall that far, so don’t let the rope go slack.”

“I won’t,” Von assured him.  “Plus I have Dell here to help me.  He wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

“I’m sure,” Reece said and started over the edge.

Von lowered the rope slowly as Reece repelled down the rock wall.  The bottom was only three or four spans down, but a false step on Reece’s part could be disastrous.  Von adjusted his hands one more time.  Too bad there wasn’t something to tie off to.  Thankfully the floor was rough and gave good traction.

“You okay down there?” Von called.

“I’m fine, just keep lowering the rope.  It isn’t much further.”

Von released more rope, hand over hand, lowering Reece inch by inch.  His muscles tightened with the effort.  He strained against Reece’s weight, heard Dell grunt with resolve.  Sweat began to bead on his forehead.  He hoped this didn’t last much longer.

“Just a little further,” Reece yelled.  The rope went suddenly limp. “I’m down.”

Dell and Von rushed to the edge and peered over.

“Can you open it?” Dell called.

“I don’t know, give me a minute.”  Von watched Reece scramble toward the wooden box.  “I think the hinges are rusted shut.”

“Use your knife to pry it open.”  Dell’s excitement was turning to impatience.  A dull snap came from the bottom of the hole.  “What did you do?”

“Nothing, the lid just broke.  The wood is rotten.”  A few more snaps followed. “It’s crumbling apart.”  Von heard another crack as Reece broke away more wood.

“What’s inside?”

“Hang on, I can’t see much yet.”

“Is it gold? It has to be gold!”  Dell turned to Von.  “Maybe jewels, do you think it is jewels?”

Von shrugged, not knowing what to think.

“There is definitely something inside,” Reece called to his friends.  “Hang on.”  He didn’t sound too excited.  “Watch out, I’m going to throw it up to you.”  Reece hefted something heavy out of the chest then launched it with both hands in a reverse toss over his head.  Von and Dell stepped back as the object landed in front of them, clanging loudly on the floor of the cave.

Dell rushed forward, scooping up his treasure.  He stared at the thing with a confused look. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, let me take a look.”

Dell placed the heavy object in Von’s outstretched hand.

As soon as Von set his hands on the object he knew what it was.  He began to laugh.  “At least we were rich for a few moments,” he chuckled.

“What do you mean? It’s valuable, isn’t it?”

“It’s an old rusted forge hammer,” Von explained.  “What’s left of it.  The handle must have rotted away. All that is left is the heavy iron head.”

Dell’s shoulders sank with disappointment.  He looked dejected.

“Look out, here comes some more,” called Reece.  Up came another hammer head, then some large tongs that were so rusted Von couldn’t even work them open.  Soon a pile of forge tools sat at Von and Dell’s feet.

“Demons and devil’s,” Dell swore.  “We found somebody’s Rift cursed tool box.”

Von couldn’t control his laughter.  “Well, it was fun while it lasted,” he confessed.

“Yeah, right,” Dell seethed, shaking his head in disgust.

“Hang on, there’s something else here,” Reece yelled to his friends.

Dell rolled his eyes.  “What is it, some grandma’s sewing kit?”

“No, some sort of metal bars.  Four of them.  They’re shiny, no rust at all.”

Dell rushed back to the edge.  “Throw them up, quick.”

“No, I don’t want to damage them. Pull me up.”

Dell was at the rope before Von could turn around.  “Come on, help me get him up here.”

Von grabbed the rope and they began to pull their friend up.  Dell put more effort in than before, trying to hoist Reece up as fast as possible.  Von worked steadily, not wanting to lose his
grip, working hand over hand again, bringing Reece up little by little.  Reece finally appeared, gripping the top of the ledge.  With a little effort Von and Dell pulled him up and over.

“What do you got?” Dell demanded.

Reece grinned at his friends then carefully removed four silvery rods from his pouch.  Despite years at the bottom of the hole, they still shone in the lamplight, glimmering with an even, perfect sheen.

“Silver?” Dell asked hopefully.

“I don’t think so,” answered Reece. “Silver tarnishes.”

“Well what is it?” he asked grabbing one of the thick  rods from Reece, turning it over in his hands.

Once again Von had the answer.  “They’re billets.”

“Billet’s?” Dell’s disappointment came back as fast as his excitement had.  “Stock iron for making more useless tools.”

“No,” Von corrected, “not iron, fine steel.”  He ran his hands over one of the rods.  It was smooth and surprisingly lightweight.  “From what I can tell, very high quality.  There’s no blemished or rust on them at all.  I’ve never seen anything like them.  After years in that hole they should have had at least some rust. They’re probably fairly valuable.”

“Maybe for you,” Dell said. “I’m not a blacksmith. You can have them.  The rusty old tools too.  They’re worthless to Reece and me.”

“If you think that’s fair,” Von said.  He knew this find wasn’t exactly a treasure chest of gold, but it was valuable none the less.  He could use this material to make some quality pieces and sell them for a nice profit.  Even the rusty tools could be melted down, the metal reused.

“Hang on,” Reece piped in. “These aren’t exactly worthless.  Obviously they will be worth more once Von has forged them into something, but that doesn’t mean I want to come away from this empty handed.”

“What do you have in mind?” Von asked.

“How many daggers do you think you could make from this much material.”

Von shrugged.  “I don’t know for sure.  At least five per billet maybe six.”

“Okay, here’s an idea.  You are going to be doing most of the work , so you can have the material, but you have to forge Dell and me one of those famous daggers of yours.”

Dell’s face lit up with excitement again.  “Do you think you could do that? I hear Baiden get’s a pretty price for those.  They say you’re one of the best.”

“I wouldn’t say the best,” Von said modestly.

“That’s not what I hear,” Reece argued, “but I wasn’t done yet.  You’re still getting the better part of the deal, so I say you have to come help us with the dishes during the Harvest Celebration.”

Von chuckled.  “Sounds more than fair.  That is if Dell agrees to it.”

“I say two daggers each,” Dell offered. “One we can keep, one we can sell.  You can do what you want with what’s left.”

Von nodded. “Sounds fair.”

“It’s agreed then,” Reece said.  “A week and a half from now we’ll see you in the kitchen’s”

“Sounds good.”

“I still wish it would have been gold,” Dell mumbled.  

“Me too,” Von offered, slapping his friend on the back.  “Let’s go.  I have some stables to
clean and some horses to shoe.

Chapter Two

Von waited in a wagon near the docks for Flenn to finish conducting his business with the trade council representative.  The fishing boats were out on the fjord, plying their trade, leaving just three ships moored at the pier.  They were trading vessels, a pair of large triple masted schooners from the south and one longboat hailing from the Fire Islands.  That was two more ships than usual, but at this time of year, so close to Harvest Celebration, additional traders were not uncommon.

Von waved to Reece and Dell, who were busy working along side the other kitchen servants, unloading the Kragen Clan vessel.  The ship was long and sleek, set low in the water with a single mast and one large square sail, its double bank of oars pulled in and pointed to the sky, allowing the ship to dock closer to the pier.  Dock hands and kitchen servants scurried along the pier, loading food stores and spices from the Fire Islands into small horse carts to haul back to the pantries.

Reece nodded a hello to Von and Dell called out. “Hey, why don’t you come help us?”

“I have to help Flenn,” Von answered.  “The Hywel brought coal and iron to stock the smithies.”

Flenn looked up at the mention of his name.  He was tall, almost as tall as Von.  His red hair twisted back in braids in the style of the north and he wore a black cloak that made his grey eyes seem darker than they were.  He was only a handful of winters older than Von, but was already a councilor to the Lord of Azmark, the youngest ever.  It was whispered  the appointment came only because Flenn was Kaiden’s best friend, and that Baiden wished to train Flenn as a voice of reason for the day Kaiden took his father’s place.  Von didn’t believe those theories.  He knew Flenn had earned the appointment on merit.

The Hywel trader and Flenn came to an agreement and Flenn waved Von over.  Von backed the wagon slowly onto the dock stopping near the large stationary crane.  Dock hands worked the crane, cranking the gears rapidly.  The timber boom moved slow and steady over the ship’s cargo hold.  Hywel sailors looped the chain around the crates, securing the load with a massive hook.  The crane easily hoisted the heavy crates up from the Hywel ship, the timber boom creaked with age and  the weight of the load as it swung back over the dock.  The dock hands turned another wheel driven gear and the boom swung slowly toward the wagon. Flenn used hand signals, guiding the dock hands’ movements and the wares lowered gently into the back of the wagon.

Von felt the weight of the large crates as they set down in the flat wooden bed.  A dock hand scrambled onto the bed to unlatched the hook and chain from the ropes that bound the crates. The wagon struts flexed under the new weight, easily holding up to the strain they were designed for. The dock hand gave a signal and Von urged the twin draft horses forward, the axles squeaking all the way up the dock.

“Sounds like you need more grease,” Flenn observed.

“Yeah, I’ll be sure to take care of that,” Von agreed.

“Here,” Flenn offered, handing Von a ledger.  “This will tell you who gets what.”

Von glanced at the ledger.  There were four names, all with specific amounts of iron and coal.  Von spotted one name and his heart sunk.  Berkler.  He hoped the man would not be in his shop when Von made delivery.  Anytime spent around that man was too much.

“This first load is for Sem,” Flenn explained.  “The other three loads will be waiting on the dock here when you get back.”

Von nodded, still worried  he might have to see Berkler.  He pulled away from the dock and headed up the cobble stone road.

“Oh, one more thing,” Flenn called.  He trotted up to the side of the wagon.

Von stopped, hoping this didn’t have anything to do with Berkler.

Flenn’s smile put Von at ease.  “Kaiden and I are going hunting in a few days.  You know that icebear that has been bothering the herds?”

Von nodded.

“We’re going after it.  As soon as Harvest Celebration is over.  Do you want to come?”

“Do I?” Von could hardly contain his excitement.  He’d been with Kaiden to hunt rabbits and fox, but never an icebear.  Baiden hadn’t even let him go on the elk hunts.  This would be his first real hunt.  “Do you think Baiden will let me go?”

“I’ll put a good word in for you,” Flenn offered.  “Kaiden really wants you along.  I’m sure he’ll be able to convince his father even if I can’t.  Kaiden seems to have a way with him.  It’s about time you started doing manly stuff anyway,” he laughed.

Von laughed too.  He was so excited the prospect of seeing Berkler no longer bothered him, well not too much.

Von passed a few field workers who waited to sell their goods to the visiting merchants.  Tyree, one of the smiths Von was scheduled to make a delivery to was waiting to see the merchants as well.  He was standing next to a couple crates full of wares.  Those crates were probably filled with swords.  Blades from Azmark always fetched a hefty price and were always in demand, especially with the wars in the south.  Those swords were the finest quality found anywhere in the world.  At least that was what the seven clans and most their neighbors thought.

Von waved to Tyree. “I have a delivery for you.”

“Just leave it in the usual spot if I’m not there.”

Von nodded and followed the cobblestone road toward the city’s dock gates.  He smiled to himself when he thought of how proud the northerners were of their capital city.  The idea was more than a little amusing.  In his mind Azmark wasn’t much more than a fortified fishing village.  His memories were filled with greater settlements in his homeland, settlements that dwarfed Azmark.  Even those places were small compared to the sprawling capital of Evenfelle where he was born.  Yet Azmark, the capital of the north, was still a seat of power and a modest trade center in its own right, bringing minor profits to the various local merchants that traded with other ports.

He whistled to himself as he drove the wagon to his first stop, waving to those he passed.  This was shaping up to be a good day.  He should be done with his deliveries by mid morning if he hurried, then he could get back to the shop and finish working on those daggers for Dell and Reece.  The alloy they found in the cave was a mystery to him.  It was the finest steel he’d ever worked with, of a quality he’d never encountered.  He wanted desperately to know what it was, how to reproduce it.  He was determined to find it out.

Morning wore on, and thankfully Berkler hadn’t been in his shop when Von stopped by.  The day really was turning out good.

The last delivery was to Baiden’s shop, then Von could get to work on those daggers.  He could always muck out the stables after dinner.

Unloading the last of the wagon took some time, but was made easier by the use of his hand cart.  He placed the stock iron onto the sturdy shelves and the coal into the heavy wooden bins, making sure to keep everything neat and in order.  Baiden always kept a tidy shop.  Of course lately Von was the one who used this place the most.  He dreamed of owning a shop just like it some day.  That dream seemed out of reach for the moment.  He was a bond servant.  His life was not his own.  He pushed those thoughts out of his head, trying to forget his old life, trying to be content with his new one.

Von stoked the forge fire and began working the bellows.  Soon the flames were burning with an intense heat, the coals glowing red and yellow.

Von retrieved a dagger from the shelf.  It was a wicked looking blade and nearly complete, lacking only the hilt.  He stared at the blade, admiring the quality of the steel.  Something was missing.  He hadn’t done anything different with this dagger, but there was something at the back of his mind, some strange feeling nagging at him.  He set the piece aside and pulled out what would become the second dagger.

It wasn’t much to look at, just a piece of stock really.  He used his tongs to place the stock in the hot coals.  The metal was soon glowing with the same colors as the fire. 

A sense of power came over him, one he often felt when working alone in the forge. He was a creator, an artist.  His body did the work, but his will forged these weapons.  His efforts were singular, the results always reflecting his talent, producing pieces that even the master blacksmiths praised.

He drew the steel from the fire and laid it on the anvil.  His hammer rang out, over and over again.  The sense of creative power redoubled.  He worked with skills taught to him by the blacksmiths of Azmark.  Skills never taught to outsiders, until now.  He was the first and only foreigner to have learned them.

Stories Von remembered from his childhood spoke of mythical blades from Azmark.  Blades said to be magical.  Azmarkian weapons were prized throughout the world and Von was learning to forge them.  They exceeded the craftsmanship of other nations so far that Von understood why many believed them magical.

Azmark blacksmiths knew ancient secrets they guarded closely.  Tales claimed even
greater secrets were now lost, that blades and armor from centuries ago actually were magic.  Von knew those were just stories.  Still a strange energy pulsed inside him as he pounded the steel.  The metal felt alive in his hands, almost as if contained within the techniques he used there actually was magic at work.

Von knew nothing about magic, but he did know how to craft a fine blade, and he was continually improving.  He hoped to develop enough skill to one day forge a sword to rival the fabled Durendal, the legendary blade of the ancient lords of Azmark.  It was pure fantasy. That weapon was lost ages ago.  Maybe it never existed.

Von’s father once owned a remarkable sword.  One prized above all his other possessions.  Von never thought it more than a masterfully crafted blade, a sword well suited for battle, but used mostly for ceremony.  Certainly nothing that would be called magical.  Von remembered it as the greatest sword he’d ever held, but now attributed those feelings to the fanciful thoughts of a little boy.  One who knew nothing of swords and sword craft.  He wagered he could forge a weapon just like it now.  Especially if he used the steel from the cave.

The energy and power he often felt when working in the forge grew within him, stronger than ever before.  The metal sang to him, he was one with the hammer, the anvil, the forge.  This would be a master piece.  He could feel it, he knew it.  Dell and Reece would be pleased when Von presented them with these prizes.

He pounded the metal, folded it, again and again.  The power built within him, became a song, built in tempo, built in volume.

He worked in the forge fires with skill and artistry, drawing upon all that was taught him in his years of training, blending the techniques together, changing them slightly, making them his own. He worked by instinct, sheer talent, incorporating all the brawn, force, power, energy, speed he could muster.

The power was growing.  Building to a climax.  Each hammer stroke continued the song.  It sang to him a melody, one of his own making.  He laid a pattern into the metal.  Layer after invisible layer.  Each building upon the other.  Fitting perfectly into an intricate puzzle.

“What’s going on here?”

The voice startled Von.  He whirled around.

Berkler stood just a few paces away.  The man possessed the face of a weasel and Von often thought of him as such.  There was not much left of his sand colored hair, and his body was just as thin and appeared frail, but years working as a blacksmith had actually made him strong and wiry.  Those who thought Old Berk, as many called him, was weak did not know the man.

“What’s going on here?” he repeated.

“Nothing,” Von answered, shaken by the appearance of the man.  “I”m just working.”

“On what?” Berkler demanded.

“Just a dagger,” Von answered.

Berkler scrutinized the dagger on the anvil then gazed back at Von.  “Doesn’t look too remarkable.  What kind of techniques are you using?”

“Just what I’ve been shown,” Von said, not willing to share with Berkler the strange feeling that had overcome him.  He hoped Berkler didn’t look too closely at the dagger.  Berkler had no right to know about the alloy or the cave.

Berkler stared Von down.  Von shrunk under the gaze, wished he could leave, just turn and go, ensure his secret stayed safe, but Berkler was a master blacksmith and demanded respect.  Von was not in a position to talk back to him or refuse to answer his questions.

“I’m going to watch you, make sure you’re not being sloppy.”

Von sighed and Berkler’s eyes narrowed.

Von couldn’t argue. It was supposed to be a privilege to have a master blacksmith watch you, critique you.  If Von was honest with himself, one of the reasons he was so talented was Berkler’s unreasonable interest in him. For some reason Von felt less than privileged.  He turned and began working again.  With Berkler watching, Von was uncomfortable.  He continued to work with flawless technique, but his excitement was gone, the power that filled him no longer there.  Missing.  It left a void, one Von couldn’t fill.  He wasn’t sure he wanted it back, not with Berkler standing behind him.  He fought the urge to look over his shoulder, see what Berkler was doing.

Hours passed and Berkler became agitated.  He began to criticize Von, analyzing his every hammer stroke.

“More power in your strike.

“No, not that much. Use a larger hammer.

“Heat the blade again.

“Your fire is getting too cold.