Even Gods Must Fall - Christian Warren Freed Page 0,19
inflicting Delranan now. I lie awake each night wondering if matters would be different if I had accepted my rightful place. Would there still be a war? Would the future be in doubt? I can’t answer those questions and I don’t feel as if I should. This,” he said and gestured to the rest of the group, “is my world now. I am responsible for their lives, and yours, if only for a moment. Nothing else matters to me, Groge. Nothing. Once we destroy this Olagath Stone and send the dark gods back to whatever hells they come from, I will finally be able to look back on my life and decide whether or not I was a good person.”
Finding the answers to his potentially life-changing course of action mildly acceptable, Groge shifted the weight of the Blud Hamr on his back. It was no easy thing discovering he must reach his own conclusions while trying to struggle through day-to-day battles. He decided to change his method of approach. “What can I expect in this new village? I don’t relish the thought of having to hide in the forests again.”
Bahr grinned. “There will be no hiding for you this time, I’m afraid. We can’t afford to let the Blud Hamr out of our sight, meaning you will be coming with us the entire way. Don’t mistake my simplistic attitudes for lack of apathy. You’ve become an important part of our little dysfunctional group and I personally enjoy your company.”
“I understand. The Hamr is what’s important,” Groge said, displaying impressive clarity for one so inexperienced. “How then do you plan on concealing my…size?”
“Ha!” Anienam cackled.
Bahr cast a sidelong glance. “Now you comment? Groge, we’re going to find a nice warm barn for all of us. My precious sell swords might object to having to rough a night in the straw and stench rather than a soft bed but they’ll get over it.”
Satisfied with the answer, Groge plodded on. He’d learned much and was given more to consider before that fateful moment when he would be forced to use the Blud Hamr and alter the course of future days. Bahr continued glaring at the blind wizard, wondering why he chose that particular moment to open his mouth.
The village was as far out of the way as possible, an extraordinary feat considering the size and scope of Delranan. Less than twenty houses mixed with a tavern, millhouse, chandlery, and trading post composed the village. Bahr didn’t know the name, nor did he have any reason to learn it. His plan called for limited interaction with the locals, despite the possibility that many, if not all, of the villagers might be sympathetic to the rebellion. They could just as likely be loyalists for all Bahr knew.
Holding the group up less than a league outside of the village, Bahr sent Dorl and Nothol in to scout the area. The latent fear that Skaning might have forces stationed close by or garrisoning the village kept him from immediately striking towards the town. Time was steadily slipping through his fingers but he knew they were less than three days from the ruins of Arlevon Gale. A few small delays wouldn’t hamper the quest. Or so Bahr hoped.
“How is it we’re always the fools getting sent into harm’s way first?” Dorl complained. Chimney smoke, thin tendrils of blue-grey, rose into the fading day sky.
Nothol shared his best friend’s ire but knew better than to waste time griping about it. They each had a task to perform. This just happened to suit their particular skillset.
“You’re looking at it all wrong, Dorl.”
“How should I see it? That we’ll get killed before the others and not have to see how badly this all goes at the end?” Dorl snorted in reply.
“Or that Bahr had full confidence in our ability to complete the task. Besides, we get first dibs on where we sleep.”
“You don’t take things serious enough. What if the village is loyal to Harnin?”
Nothol shrugged. “We fight our way out and keep heading east. One meager village isn’t going to do more harm than the hundreds of mercenaries on our tail. I don’t think Rekka is doing a good job taking care of you.”
“Watch it,” Dorl threatened.
“I mean it. If she were you’d be a lot happier.”
Dorl opened and closed his mouth before finally letting a sympathetic laugh escape. Nothol followed suit as they rode closer to the thatch-covered houses.
“We need a drink, Nothol,” Dorl said after wiping his eyes