Free The Madness of Gods and Kings by Christian Warren Freed

without your vision.”
    Anienam stiffened angrily. “I’m blind, not an invalid. I don’t need vision to use magic, Bahr. We keep moving as if nothing’s different. The dark gods and their spawn will not care one whit for my handicaps. Neither should you.”
    “It’s not that easy.”
    He cocked his head. “How so?”
    Bahr shrugged, not expecting to actually explain his reasoning. Each time he thought he found the thread leading down the correct path he paused and swallowed the words. None of them felt right. Frowning, he decided to stall. “You are the only one among us with magic and we’re about to go up against not only a pantheon of gods but their magic using minions here on Malweir. How can we successfully counter whatever evils await us with you in a diminished state?”
    Anienam began to understand more clearly. He’d been at odds with most of the group since the beginning of their quest, some dating back to the voyage to rescue Maleela from Rogscroft under false pretense. Only now did they realize he was more vital than they imagined. More than an enigmatic old man, Anienam possessed raw power and the wealth of knowledge capable of seeing them on to victory. They were scared, unsure of what the future held. If he wasn’t quietly lamenting his own suffering he might have found time to chuckle at their newfound sympathy.
    “Bahr, all of you, can rest assured that I am more than capable of handling my end of this affair. Our way ahead is fraught with danger, more so than any we have encountered to date. I cannot promise any of you will survive, but I retain my full ability to wield magic. You do your parts and I will handle mine. Now please, can we change the subject? Or get a meal finished? My stomach is very upset with me at the moment.”
    Bahr gave in. There were times when even the soundest argument was trumped by hunger. He motioned for Skuld and Dorl to start cooking the brace of rabbits they’d caught after finding a suitable clearing. Boen rummaged through some of the supply sacks on the wagon and produced a handful of potatoes and a few carrots to add to the pot. He wasn’t much for stews or soups, but was experienced enough to know when the heavy, gravy-like stew was good for a soldier in the field.
    Handing the vegetables to Skuld he said, “Here, cut these up and toss them in. The heavier the stew the better on a night like this.”
    Skuld accepted and went about his work. Long fingers of dark draped across the land like curtains of despair. Bahr looked up to the frozen fields long buried under snow and ice and wondered what would become of his homeland. Never caring for kingdom or crown, he was in the unique position to care for a land and people who didn’t care for him. He doubted he’d be welcomed with open arms upon his return, especially after the debacle his brother had plunged Delranan into. His thoughts gradually turned to the two scout teams out patrolling the wilds, hoping they went unnoticed.
    * * * * *
    “Don’t you get cold?” Ironfoot grumbled, pulling the collar of his bearskin cloak tighter around his shoulders. His battle axe nestled snugly on his back, easily drawn in the event of trouble. His eyes were nearly lost beneath a heavy forehead and thicker brows but they were sharp, missing nothing as he and Groge stalked across the land.
    He wasn’t the finest soldier in King Thord’s retinue, nor the most professional. He’d been chosen for the sheer fact that he had not only captured Bahr and the others after they trespassed on Dwarven lands, but also led the raid in which Bahr and Boen performed the vital task of destroying the dark Dwarf cannons at Bode Hill. Ironfoot was deemed the most logical choice, though he didn’t fail to notice how none of his peers volunteered for the task. He vowed to have words with his fellow captains upon his return.
    Groge wanted to shrug indifference to Ironfoot’s comment but felt awkward. His tribe had been locked away from the