Hammers in the Wind by Christian Warren Freed Read Free Book Online Page A

his words carefully, partly because he wasn’t sure how Badron would react and partly because he recognized the frailty of this time. All of Delranan held its breath. War was nearing, but against whom? Harnin hid his smile as Badron asked just that.
    “Who then has a vested interest in seeing my house in ruins?”
    “My lord, Malweir is an ever-dangerous world. I’ve heard rumors of a civil war between the Dwarf clans to the east. Strange companies of Elves and Goblins have been seen wandering through the land. Some even whisper of the return of the fabled Gaimosian Knights.”
    Badron shook his head. He’d heard the fairy tales as well and refused to mire his thoughts in such. “For all that you name I can find no true enemy.”
    “That leaves Rogscroft.”
    The word stung, hanging in the air like a miasma of doom.
    Badron sneered. “They couldn’t possibly know what our plans are.”
    Harnin shrugged. “Perhaps not, but Prince Aurec is your daughter’s lover whether you choose to accept it or not. There is a chance he might have succumbed to an act of grave stupidity.”
    “Or at the insistence of his father,” the king finished. He smashed a fist into his palm. He regretted not invading his hated foe those many years ago. “Aurec is no fool, neither is his father. They are brash but not foolish enough to risk reprisal.”
    “Rogscroft will deny everything, naturally. Not that it matters much, all tracks lead back to the east. This is our chance to finally blame them. It also gives us the perfect opportunity to go to war.”
    The prospect of no more subversion enticed Badron. “The Wolfsreik is already marshalling, but it will take time, as you pointed out, for them to actually muster the strength to march. I do not want to tip our hand to our enemies. Continue to use the Pell as an excuse. Keep our people and his spies in the dark for as long as we can and the advantage is ours. Let us catch them unaware.”
    The bell tolled again, deep and ominous.
    “It is time, sire,” Harnin grimly announced.
    “Then come, let us bury my son.”
     
     
    Somber crowds lined the main avenue from the Keep down to the shore. Most of Delranan showed to pay their respects to their prince. Mothers wept openly, for him and for all of the sons who lost their lives that fell night. Fur-cloaked soldiers lined the way at specific intervals. They served as much for crowd control as for respect. Their steel helmets gleamed in the sporadic light. Spear and sword did the same. Each bore the same dour expression, as if a piece of them had been torn away. Brothers had been murdered. The guards remained perfectly still, only moving their eyes to follow the procession as it inched out from the massive gates of Chadra Keep.
    King Badron led them. His robes were stately. The wolf skin cloak clasped about his shoulders shimmered in shades of black and grey. The kingdom’s crown, which he seldom found cause to wear, was bejeweled and heavy upon his head. A ruby the size of baby’s fist sat in the center. The king of Delranan presented the image of a hard man. His eyes, posture, the measure of his gait were all determined. Such was he always seen by his subjects for to do otherwise would invite insurrection. His face was a mask that concealed more emotion than any could have guessed.  Anguish clashed with dispassion and the building thirst for revenge.
    His captains and battle lords marched in step behind him. They had become the life’s blood of Delranan now that his only male heir was slain. Harnin One Eye led them. Sorrow was evident on his visage, but there was more. Those who dared to look too close could see lust for power beneath all of the scars. Whether that lust was focused on the throne or something much greater remained hidden.
    Last of the group of captains was the young warrior Jarrik. Rumor had it that he had been born to a bear and raised in the wild. His pale blue eyes kept a feral glint. His body was large and muscled,