Free Blood Storm: The Books of Blood and Iron by Steven Harper Page B

I think you are.”
    “And that would be?” Ranadar said.
    The man Hector lowered his voice. “You’re the ones from the Battle of the Twist. You stopped an entire war. Vik, you’re Danr the Hero, and you wielded the Iron Axe itself. Isn’t that right?”
    Danr didn’t want to answer, but Hector had asked him a direct question, and a reply pushed at the back of his throat. The words piled up like water behind a dam and finally spilled out of him. “I did, and a lot of people died for it, so keep it to yourself. We don’t want a lot of—”
    “Attention, I know. Don’t blame you. I just want to buy you a round or two and say thank you.”
    That surprised him. “Thank you?”
    “For stopping the slaughter. I have family in northernBalsia, and if that war had begun . . . well, in my book you’re the biggest heroes since Bal himself.” Here, Hector looked a little sheepish. “I just wanted to give you something back.”
    Huh. Usually, people wanted something from Danr. The gratitude made him feel . . . warm. Appreciated. It was nice. Maybe an unexpected stranger wasn’t so bad. The barmaid arrived with her heavy tray. She laid out bread, meat, and two pitchers of ale. The food was plentiful—Danr was almost always hungry—and the new ale flowed like liquid gold. The food and the man’s kind words made Danr feel a little better, though he was still a bit put off by the man’s forwardness.
    “How did you recognize us?” Talfi asked. “We’re kind of hiding right now.”
    “I told you—I have family in northern Balsia.” Hector sipped from his horn. “And everyone’s heard of the half troll, the elven sorcerer, and the boy who can’t die. But isn’t there an orc swordswoman?”
    The much stronger ale warmed Danr’s stomach and he didn’t bother trying to fight the question. “Kalessa’s at a leather worker’s, seeing to her armor,” he said.
    “So it’s just us men, and you’re having some woman trouble, eh?” Hector tore into the bread with strong white teeth.
    This was more a statement than a question, but Danr responded anyway. “How did you know that?”
    “Danr,” Talfi said, “maybe—”
    “Not hard to spot.” Hector raised his horn to Danr, who obligingly toasted with him and drained most of it. Drinking the smooth ale was like drinking sunlight. “Your lady isn’t here and you look sad. And I overheard the last part of your conversation.”
    This last struck Danr as funny, and he laughed. “Well,you’re right, and these two”—he waved his horn at Ranadar and Talfi, who ducked—“aren’t much help.”
    “Understandable.” He poured more ale into Danr’s horn. “But I can understand your lady’s problem, at least a little.”
    “Yeah?” Danr leaned toward him, curious. “How?”
    “Just look at you!” Hector raised his horn yet again, and Danr obliged him with another drink. “You’re half troll. Not a lot of people like half-bloods. They’re an abomination.
I
don’t feel that way, of course, but I’m sure you’ve seen it.”
    “Sure,” Danr said dryly.
    “There you are, then.” Hector scratched his chest. “Once she marries a half-blood, all those people will see her as a traitor to humans. And since you’re famous, they’ll all know about it. No way to escape it. Must be hard for her.”
    Half-blood. Traitor. The words stabbed Danr with an icy dagger and he sat still as a winter boulder. That was it. Hector’s words made cold, terrible sense. Really, it made a number of thoughts rush together, like streams trickling into a gushing river. Aisa was angry about the merfolk, yes, she was, and she was nervous about marrying a half-troll because of the shit it would bring into their lives. Would their marriage last with people always judging them, attacking them, making both of them outsiders the way he was now? Still, she had indeed said she would marry him, if he asked. That was hope. A tiny fleck of warm hope. If only he could figure out