Even Gods Must Fall - Christian Warren Freed Page 0,44
had fallen on anyone else but him. For all of his bluster and bravado, he felt weak inside.
“No, the Dae’shan will have assembled as many dark agents as they deem necessary to protect the ruins.”
“And keep us out,” Nothol added.
Anienam nodded. “And keep us out. Exactly what they’ve collected won’t be learned until we arrive, however.”
“Isn’t there some sort of spell you can cast to give us forewarning?” Ironfoot asked. He folded his burly arms across his chest as he glared at the wizard. Already his mind was racing through potential scenarios.
“That was never my area of focus. I can cast protection spells, the occasional attack spells, but long-distance scrying remains unknown to me,” he replied. “Captain Bahr, what would you suggest? We are but two days’ ride from our final destination.”
Bahr, a distant look in his eyes, casually glanced up from the fire. He hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation. Thoughts of Maleela and Badron and the possible confrontations upcoming twisted his thoughts in unimaginable ways. That he was subconsciously abandoning his friends and allies to deal with their own futures was almost lost. Almost.
Reluctantly, he took a deep breath and answered, “Scouts would be best, but Boen isn’t with us. I don’t know if he will return in time.”
“The Gaimosian will rejoin us, Bahr. That much I know,” Anienam affirmed. “He’s quite resourceful for an ogre-like sort. Vengeance Knights are crude, minimalist beings but their loyalty and devotion to duty goes well beyond any other tribe or race. He’ll be at Arlevon Gale.”
“That doesn’t alleviate our need for quality scouts,” Bahr pressed. “We can’t just go into this situation blindly.”
“I agree,” Ironfoot added. “We need to scout the area first.”
Rekka slowly stood. “I will go, if this task needs to be done.”
“Absolutely not!” Dorl protested.
Rekka offered a thin smile. Her heart wanted to stay with Dorl, for if these were to be their last days alive surely she deserved to die happy, content for the first time in her two decades. The sad truth was the world didn’t care whether one person was happy or not. Destiny and Fate marched to their own tunes, tormenting those caught up in the fervor. Some survived to great glory but eventually all wound up in the ground. Win or lose, Lord Death was stalking them all.
“I am the quickest and quietest of us all. The enemy will not spy me,” she said. “You all know this to be true.”
She forced the memory of her confrontation with one of the Dae’shan in the forests of Rogscroft away. Her guard had been down, despite the heightened caution of fleeing from armed soldiers. How one of the shadow agents of the dark gods managed to come upon her unawares remained a mystery. She’d always thought she’d been trained to deal with them. Her time with the dream masters of Teng and then in Trennaron deceptively allowed her to believe she had all of the tools necessary to ensure the successful completion of this quest. Could she have been mistaken this entire time?
“She’s right, Dorl. Rekka might be the best chance we have,” Nothol told his friend. The words were difficult, even after all the gentle ribbing they gave each other.
The first arrow sliced across the camp, speeding over the fire to strike the nearest pine bole. Skuld cried out. A horse whinnied. Stunned faces had just enough time to look around before the first wave of mercenaries broke through the barrier of darkness.
“Attack!” Ironfoot roared. The Dwarf snatched his axe from the ground at his feet and charged without waiting for the others.
Shorter by far, Ironfoot ducked under an ill-timed swing and took one of the mercenaries just below the knee. The severed limb flopped to the ground an instant before the screaming man. Blood dripping from his axe, the Dwarf brought a heavy boot down on the wounded mercenary’s throat, crushing his windpipe. Another sword aimed for Ironfoot’s head. The Dwarf barely managed to bring his axe head up to block the blow. Locked in the dual blades, the sword was instantly rendered useless. Ironfoot twisted hard enough to jerk the weapon free and punch the mercenary in the chest with his axe head.
A third attacker ducked in, hoping to catch the Dwarf unawares. He came to an abrupt halt as a mighty hand clamped over his head and squeezed. The mercenary barely had time to comprehend what was happening before he died. Groge stormed into the light as he tossed the