Hammers in the Wind by Christian Warren Freed Page B

flow had yet to encroach upon the mainland and there were simply too many variable factors to make him comfortable. A dozen different scenarios played over in his mind, none of them with appreciable endings. Weather and family. He almost felt lost.
    He let his gaze settle on the wizard and the enigmatic southern girl. He didn’t trust either of them for good reason. They both knew far too much about him and the king than Bahr deemed right. Things that he had long forgotten. Making matters worse, he only knew a handful of the twenty men Harnin had hired. The entire situation chafed him.
    Bahr turned back to the ocean. This was where he felt safe, where he felt at home. Still, not even the troubled waters frothing against his hull managed to keep his thoughts straight. The prophetic interpretations of Rekka Jel’s dream masters disturbed him. He’d never been the superstitious sort and didn’t give in to the typical sailor yarn about good fortune. Bahr believed life was what you made of it, nothing more. He exhaled a long breath and rubbed his face with the palms of both hands. There was a brief moment where he felt that he was too old for this nonsense, too old to be gallivanting around Malweir’s northern oceans. Then again, he hadn’t a clue what else there was to do. Destiny was intent on keeping him a traveling adventurer.
    “What’s on your mind?” Boen asked in his rumbling voice.
    The big man eased alongside and offered a half-empty canteen. Bahr accepted the water and drank deeply.
    “There are days when I feel like the world is stacked against me,” he answered.
    “You get used to it after a while,” Boen answered gruffly. “This is a hard life in a hard world. We wouldn’t have made it this far if we weren’t good at what we do.”
    “Are you sure this is the right life? I almost wish there was a clear path ahead. I’m getting old, Boen.”
    “We all are. That doesn’t mean we need to slow down or stop now. Where would the fun be if we just gave up?”
    They both laughed, but without much force. Bahr knew the Gaimosian had lived a far tougher life than he could ever dream: a lifetime of warfare and change, nothing constant. Bahr doubted he’d have been able to do the same. The sad thing was Boen was more the rule than the exception. The Gaimosian people were scattered across the face of Malweir and forbidden to rebuild their kingdom. A massive army of nations combined to crush Gaimos and destroy their way of life thousands of years ago. The culture died. All that remained was a few small tribes of families and roaming mercenaries highly sought after by kings and queens. Boen simply had no place to call home, unlike the self-imposed exile Bahr chose.
    “Can I absolutely trust you?” he finally asked.
    If Boen took offense he didn’t show it. “Of course you can. What kind of question is that? We’ve known each other for almost thirty years, you damned fool.”
    Bahr almost smiled. I’ve known my brother for longer and that hasn’t turned out so well for me, he thought. “I’m not so sure about this quest anymore. It is growing more perilous by the moment.”
    Boen passed a quizzical look. “Getting cold feet already?”
    “Nothing of the sort.”
    He looked around to see if anyone else was near. “You already know about the woman, Rekka Jel, but she’s not our only guest.”
    “What do you mean? I’ve had suspicions that one of us is Harnin’s spy but it’s too early to prove who if that is what you mean.”
    Boen was a naturally untrusting man. It was a lesson learned early in life. One of his first partners betrayed him and tried to kill him in his sleep. Boen snapped the man’s neck and never put his full faith in another soul again.
    Bahr shook his head. “No. That’s not what I meant. Well, I agree with you but this is bigger. Have you ever heard the name Anienam Keiss?”
    The Gaimosian’s eyes widened in shock. “Damnation.”
    “He’s in my cabin.”
    “The