Tides of Blood and Steel by Christian Warren Freed

a balled-up cloak. He drifted off the moment his head touched the fur.
    Anienam Keiss glanced up from the book they’d risked so much to find. A wry smile cracked his thin lips. He felt positive about this group of would-be heroes. All were normal people with everyday issues; some suffered from selfishness while others ached with selflessness. The important part was that none wanted to be a hero or a champion of fate remembered in song and tales for generations to come. They did what they did because they had to, and that was a comforting thought.
    Too many times in the past he and his father Dakeb had gathered men and women and gone off to combat one of the many facets of evil threatening Malweir. They weren’t always the best, but they were the best available. Anienam struggled to find a bright side. Never before had the odds been stacked so high against him. Natural doubt crept into his mind.
    The thoughts disturbed him so much he failed to see Rekka Jel slink across the shadowed room. She laid her weapons down and eased over to where Dorl Theed slept. His companion and battle buddy, Nothol Coll, had volunteered to pull the first guard shift and was no doubt standing on the front porch freezing right now. Anienam insisted that his wards were enough to protect them against all but the strongest dark magics. No one wanted to be the one who took chances at this stage of the adventure. The stakes were raised much too high.
    That was why she was able to make up her mind so easily. The secrets of her coming north continually threatened to get the better of her. It was all she could do to suppress the urge to break down and tell someone, anyone. Tonight there would be no conflict. She knew what she wanted, for it was more desire than need. Rekka had to feel human again. All of those she’d killed begged for release from her eternal self-torment. She lifted Dorl’s blanket and curled into him.
    “What?” he asked groggily.
    She closed her soft brown eyes and whispered, “Shhh.”
    Neither of them resisted what happened next. The rest of the world could wait.
     
     
    A soft wind swirled handfuls of dead leaves in front of him but Nothol lacked an appreciation for it. His mind raced. So much had happened he wasn’t sure exactly where he stood. His friends were changing daily, forcing him to change with them. He and Dorl had signed on to keep Bahr safe, nothing more. That part was finished. The conditions changed drastically. Their lives were effectively over. There seemed little doubt the pair would be forced to flee Delranan. They weren’t even a part of the war and yet it consumed them.
    He thumbed the edge of his sword. Many decision points lay before them. He hoped for the strength to keep going. His heart hurt and he didn’t know why. Nothol felt the past finally catching up to him. It was all he could do not to cry. He steeled himself against the night and watched the moonlit fields of frost.

NINE
    The Heroes Go East
    Anienam interlaced his fingers over his head and stretched. His bones groaned and snapped from degenerative arthritis, causing a frown. He hated getting old. Age was the one thing that left him truly helpless. No amount of magic in any language or from any race could prevent the tides of time from washing him away. There was no way of telling how much time he had left and that was the most disturbing facet. His father had spent countless centuries roaming Malweir in an ultimately vain attempt at stopping evil from taking root. He died without ever seeing that dream fulfilled.
    Anienam did not suffer from the same delusions. Evil was eternal, a part of Malweir that could not be excised. Neither evil nor good had the ability to outlive each other. They were reciprocal, mocking yet complimentary. Each needed the other to bring forth the best in races. Entire races dedicated themselves to the pursuit of one or the other. That was the true tragedy of life. He’d never met a Goblin with the propensity to