The Madness of Gods and Kings by Christian Warren Freed Read Free Book Online Page B

journey. I expect him to set foot in Delranan within the next few weeks.”
    Adding reason to your obsession with the rebellion. It begins to make sense. You can’t move against Badron with an enemy force in your rear. How I don’t envy you, One Eye. All of your plots and schemes are boiling down into dismal failure before your very eyes. No wonder madness is your boon companion . “When do you want me to depart?”
    “At the dawn. There is no time to waste,” he ordered. “Do not fail me, Lord Skaning. I will have need of men I can count on when the dust of this war settles. Remember that as you conduct your business. Now leave me.”
    * * * * *
    They made landfall in the middle of the night. Skiffs were launched to take the passengers to shore. Frigid water sloshed against the weather-worn boats, spilling over the rails already dangerously low in the water. Badron, King of Delranan and Lord of Rogscroft, clutched the rails with disdain to prevent from tipping into the sea. His disgust for water stemmed back to an early age. Perhaps having a famous brother who made a reputation sailing the seas aided in the rising jealousy, perhaps not. Regardless, Badron couldn’t wait to be back on dry land again. He briefly contemplated ordering Grugnak’s Goblins to kill the crews and have the boats burned but anticipated needing them again at some point, especially if his attempt at reclaiming Delranan went ill. A viable escape plan in his back pocket helped ease his troubled mind.
    Each splash of the oar took them closer to the rocky shoreline of his kingdom. The men sitting beside and around him were just as eager to return to their homes, their families, their lives. Badron knew this through his dealings with Amar Kit’han and the other Dae’shan that whispered in his ear when no one was looking. He despised their involvement, secretly wishing he’d never made the deal with them in the first place. Grief over the loss of his only son and, he begrudgingly admitted, the kidnapping of his only daughter, drove him willingly into the Dae’shan’s embrace. So far gone, Badron danced like a puppet on strings. At least they have no qualms about letting me reclaim my own kingdom .
    Shadows of pine trees loomed, dark and ominous. They reminded him of the jaws of some great beast from legend, eager to swallow him and all who travelled with him. Ever since deploying the Wolfsreik to Rogscroft, Badron felt Lord Death barreling towards him. It was only a matter of time before events let them meet. He knew he lacked the strength to withstand any assault Lord Death chose to make and, oddly enough, he was ready to meet it. Life had never been kind to Badron, not even during his tenure as king. Watching his wife die in childbirth pushed him closer to the edge. Life lost its luster, turning to shades of grey and doom.
    He’d placed all of his hope in his son, who was so cruelly murdered one night at the end of autumn. Hatred for Maleela, his lone daughter and reason for his wife’s death, spurred him to invade neighboring Rogscroft. The old king allowed Harnin to recruit Bahr and a crew of misfits to reclaim Maleela from her captors while he took the army to conquer the one kingdom he’d envied since rising to the throne. The nightmare campaign that followed was the result.
    Now, months later, he’d lost his kingdom, his army, and what remained of his dignity. The few hundred men that remained loyal to his banner huddled together in the long boats as sea water splashed over them. Despite having so many familiar faces clinging to him, Badron found no comfort. They were the remnants of more than ten thousand soldiers and another thousand of his personal retinue. The Wolfsreik abandoned him almost to the man. That left him with a Goblin army not even he wanted.
    Badron folded his arms, reluctantly, across his chest and frowned as his thoughts centered on Grugnak and his Goblins. They’d originally invaded Rogscroft under the direction of