Tides of Blood and Steel (28 page)

Grugnak laughed in his face. “You sleep, we fight!”

The Goblin general turned and stalked back to his army.

“I warned you, king. Do not provoke them. Goblins are touchy beings. It will avail none to anger them.”

Badron glared back at the shadows in the dark. “Your words leave a chill upon my soul. I should tell you to piss off and be gone. This is my war.”

Laughter. Cold, merciless laughter.

“Why do you laugh?”

“This was never your war.”

Belkin couldn’t believe his eyes as the first Goblin ranks marched into the city he had been born and raised in. They’d come to kill. Axes and rusty swords glinted in the torchlight. More and more came, all with bloodthirsty abandon. They snarled and called foul cadence. Belkin felt a warm trickle run down his right leg. He never dreamed he’d be forced to stand the line against such a dark foe. Instincts begged him to throw down his sword and flee.

“We need to get out of here,” Pilin echoed his own thoughts.

Belkin’s voice trembled. “No. We have been ordered to hold. Have faith, Pilin.”

“I don’t think I can.”

Belkin understood. He caught the glimmer of another man in the building on the opposite side of the street. It was time. Dozens of arrowheads poked from every window on the street. Belkin did the same, drawing a bead on the nearest Goblin. His heart trembled. The thunder of each beat threatened to rip his head apart. He prayed his fingers kept their strength. A flaming arrow arced up over the city skyline. The signal. Every archer loosed simultaneously.

Goblins fell dead by the dozen. More lay wounded, trapped beneath the dead and the press of bodies still pushing into the kill zone. The archers loosed volley after volley, as fast as they could reload. Others poured buckets of pitch down on the writhing mass of bodies.

“Fire!”

Fire arrows plunged into the Goblins. A few managed to look up in time to see their deaths hiss down around them. The smell of cooked flesh roasted in the chill night air. Screams filled the city.

“Keep firing! Kill them!”

Belkin lost himself to battle, all thoughts of escape dissolved into the madness of battle rage. He and Pilin emptied their quivers well before the order to fall back was given. The handful of catapults on the castle walls barked flames into the night. Projectiles slammed into Grugnak’s follow on forces. The Goblin advance stalled. Body parts were flung up into the air. The iron smell of blood choked the defenders.

“Fall back!” came the order. “Get back to your secondary positions!”

Belkin snatched his empty quiver. “Come on, Pilin. We have to leave before Goblins find us.”

They ran, joining a large pack of others. The threat of death was very real. No one wanted to die this early in the siege. Mass confusion greeted the pair once they hit the main avenue. Rogscroft soldiers ran for their lives while burning Goblins ran off in despair. Their massed ranks had worked against them. Belkin and Pilin ducked down a tight alley and into another building. Two full quivers were already there. The boys settled down and prepared to kill again.

Rolnir watched the flames lick up into the fading night sky. Screams drowned out every other sound. He sighed. The Goblin assault had failed, miserably. Realistically it never stood much of a chance. The Wolfsreik hadn’t the chance to clear any of the traps or obstacles. Snipers remained hidden instead of being routed back into the castle. Rolnir was almost amused. They might never know how many Goblins had been killed tonight, not that it mattered. Each death was one less his men would need to deal with once the siege was lifted. Rolnir watched the scene with a small measure of satisfaction before turning in for the night.

Harnin’s Fall

Harnin One Eye ripped his wooden-handled dagger from the insurgent’s chest in disdain. A slender
thread of bright red blood splashed his tunic. Frustration caused the veins on his neck to stand out, pulsing darkly. Another prisoner and the same results. Harnin stabbed down hard. The blade lodged deep into bone. He turned and left the cooling corpse for his orderlies to remove.

“Your tactics don’t work,” Jarrik said.

“I can see that!” he snapped back. “More drastic measures are necessary.”

Skaning slammed his fist into the wall. “These are our people! We cannot continue murdering them without cause!”

“Without cause? They started this war! Need I remind you that the king’s own son was murdered not two hundred meters from where you and I now stand?” Harnin raged.

Skaning met his cold glare. “By Rogscroft, not by our own folk. You carry this vendetta too far, Harnin.”

“Perhaps I need to take it a step further.”

The younger Skaning dropped back into a fighting stance. “If you think you can.”

“Enough of this!” Jarrik barked. “We’ll get nowhere by fighting ourselves. I’m sure King Badron expects better of us.”

“Nor would he want us killing his citizens,” Skaning replied.

Jarrik stepped between them. “What would you suggest? I’m afraid that Harnin is right. We must try something else if we hope to end this war.”

“Find a military target and I will give my full support.”

Harnin spat. “This is what we are trying to do! Argis is behind this insurrection. Find him and we end the rebellion.”

“Argis is cunning. He betrayed us and no one saw it coming,” Jarrik commented.

“He is the head. We need to find and kill him.”

Skaning remained unconvinced. “What if he is not?”

“What?” Jarrik and Harnin asked at the same time.

“Hear me out. Argis betrayed us, that much is true. But what if he was turned by someone else? This rebellion is too well prepared to be run by one man. Argis might only be one of several.”

Harnin lashed out. His boot made a squishing sound when it struck the body of the man he had just killed. Blood splashed.

“Do not take me for a fool! You cry that my methods are too extreme, but they have yet to make a prisoner talk. You then dare to steal the blame from Argis and place it on any one of us? What you suggest would tear this kingdom to shreds. Perhaps if I begin hacking off limbs I will find my answers.”

Jarrik groaned. “Listen to yourself. What you propose will turn the entire population against us, including our own soldiers. Do you want to be the one who has to explain to the king how you lost his kingdom?”

“So long as Argis remains free and alive he is a threat,” Harnin said, ignoring him. “Where does it end? With our deaths? His? Or should Chadra Keep be burned to the ground? None of you have the answers. Regardless if Argis is their leader or not, he must die. The others are disaffected peasants following nobility. Kill the nobility and they go back to plowing their fields.”

Silence settled over them. Skaning tried not to stare at the One Eye. The younger lord had always been one of Badron’s staunched supporters, but he valued Delranan above any one man. The kingdom must come first. Anything less defeated the purpose. He wanted to run Harnin through for his indulgences. Doing so would only serve to brand him a traitor. The youngest captain instead decided to bite back on his pride and bide
time. Harnin would make his mistake soon enough and all Skaning had to do was wait to reap the benefits.

Jarrik cleared his throat. “We need to focus all of our efforts on finding Argis.”

Finally, Harnin spoke in more measured tones. “There is another facet that even Badron had not the time to consider.”

They looked at him expectantly.

“Argis must be in league with Rogscroft.”

Simple. A clear, concise statement with deep running implications. Harnin knew he had them in the palm of his hand now. Delranan and Rogscroft had never been close allies, but they’d seldom let their animosity flare into open hostility. King Stelskor certainly had his share of flaws and prejudices, just as Badron did. The one thing he didn’t have was reason to attack Badron. In that context, the attack on the keep made no sense. The death of Badron’s only heir was only helpful if they managed to kill the father as well.

Jarrik spoke first. “That doesn’t make sense. How could Argis have done so?”

“Think about it. Rumors are that the Pell Darga often come down from their mountains to trade with Stelskor. You were here the night of the attack. You both were. How many Pell short spears did we find in our dead? I believe they made contact with Argis and turned him against the very people he swore to protect.”

“If what you say is true, this changes everything,” Jarrik replied.

Harnin nodded slowly. “Making Argis more dangerous. He has to die for his crimes against our people.”

“We shall double our efforts,” Jarrik said after a few moments of silence. His amber eyes narrowed in newfound intent. The curve of his jaw steeled. “If he is in this city we shall find him.”

“King Badron deserves no less, Captain.”

Jarrik slapped Skaning on the chest with the back of his hand. “Come on, we have work to do.”

Harnin watched them leave. His breathing slowed back to normal. Skaning had come close to guessing the truth, and that was of great concern. Fortunately the man was still young enough to be naïve. Otherwise Harnin would have killed him where he stood. Suspicions haunting his conscience, Harnin turned away. His thoughts were already back on the prisoners. The acting lord of Delranan bore no illusions about halting his tortures. A dark part of him came alive with each new scream, each rivulet of dark blood draining from the victims. Half of the time he hadn’t even bothered to ask questions. It was enough to watch them die.

Smiling, he looked down at the blood stain on his tunic and left the dungeons.

“You play a dangerous game.”

Harnin’s heart leapt to his throat as the voice whispered in his ear. The darkness of the throne room was only broken by the half-dead fire in a distant brazier. He panicked. Fatigue had tired him, forcing down his guard. A shadow moved, ever so slightly, from behind the throne.

“All of Delranan’s captains are equally dangerous.”

Harnin reached for his short sword, knowing it would be of no avail. “Show yourself, assassin.”

Wicked laughter mocked him. “Were I an assassin you would already be torn limb from limb and fed to your own dogs. Put away your sword, Harnin One Eye.”

Pelthit Re lowered his shadows and became visible. The Dae’shan had been conspicuously absent these last few weeks, enough that Harnin failed to recognize his voice. That in itself was troubling enough.

“Why do you return now? When I do not need you?” Harnin questioned.

“The hour grows late and you have come to the edge of losing all you have struggled so hard for.”

Harnin felt a sudden tightness in his chest, like some giant invisible hand trying to crush his life out. The Dae’shan slipped around the front of the ancient cedar throne. His cowled head angled down in silent contempt. Men were so reliant on trivial symbols of power that it prevented them from achieving any true power.

Harnin gasped for breath. “How?”

An impossible wind lashed across the chamber. Dying embers danced in the air as they trailed aimlessly away. Pelthit Re sat himself upon the throne once Harnin fell to his knees. Corporeal hands gently grasped the arms, intricately carved into the heads of wolves.

“Your arrogance has allowed this. Argis is now a hero to the people. They rally behind his name as if he were a legend, a god amongst men. Will you allow him to deliver them from their nightmares? History often forgets villains.”

The constriction faded. Harnin glared up with a pinched expression. “Argis is a traitor to the kingdom.”

“Yes, one you helped create. Your blind subservience to that decrepit old man you call king has led you into ruin’s arms. I fear you might not recover before he returns.”

Taunts. The Dae’shan sought the weakness in Harnin and tried to exploit it. The One Eye felt insulted, his pride slapped. He also found a newly kindled hunger gnawing at him. All his life he had been forced to stand in the shadow of a lesser man. Pelthit Re had been delivered to show him how life was meant to be. His life was now stagnant, brackish from the lack of ambition he knew he was
supposed
to have. Harnin wanted it, wanted it all.

“Help me,” he begged from his knees. It was a single thread of hope.

Pelthit Re cocked his head. “Why?”

Harnin bowed. “I want Badron’s power. I want his life, the glory, and the pride. Argis is a threat, yes, but with your help I can quench his life and turn Delranan into the kingdom it should have been.”

“Perhaps,” the Dae’shan answered in a harsh cackle. “You should rise, kings do not kneel.”

The Dae’shan was gone, faded back into nothingness, by the time Harnin struggled to his feet. All that remained was a hollow glow in the seat of the throne.

* * * * *

“You should mind your tongue,” Jarrik scolded.

Skaning spun on his friend, pointing an accusing finger a little too close to his face. “Harnin is out of control. You know I am right. We risk ruin if we sit by and watch him lead us further down this dark road.”