Tides of Blood and Steel by Christian Warren Freed Page A

commit an act of kindness. They were savage, brutal creatures with deep emotions that thrived on hatred. Conversely, the Fey seemed incapable of doing harm. Too often they’d been slaughtered for those personal convictions.
    Doing his best to force the thoughts away, Anienam settled back in his chair and continued reading. The book was dry, a common failing of the period. The author promoted a high opinion of himself. Anienam reached over and took a sip of tea. No wonder this book was lost, he grimaced. I can barely read it without falling asleep . He started flipping through the aged pages. The text went on about this god or that and the qualifying factors that made them gods.
    He was just about to give up for the night when he stumbled into what he was desperately looking for. Or so he believed. His heart beat a little faster. This could be it. Secrets lost since the days before Ipn Shal. He grew giddy and devoured every word with renewed interest. Seventeen pages later he set the book down. His grin bordered on permanent. Secrets opened to him. He’d discovered the truth of the Blud Hamr.
    Anienam glanced to his sleeping companions and decided to let them sleep. Exhaustion reached out to claim him as well. It had been a long day. Marking his place in the book, he set it down and decided to catch a few hours of sleep.
     
     
    The hearty smell of cooking bacon and roasted late summer tomatoes woke them with growling stomachs. Half felt like they’d just left a tavern. Bahr didn’t find anything wrong with that. A cold flagon of ale would have made getting up worthwhile. Boen seemed the only one unaffected from last night’s events. The Gaimosian rose to his full height and stretched, a throaty growl accenting it. He’d slept the most and recovered his strength. Boen looked ready to go to war. He smiled at the smells enticing him. That smile froze upon seeing Rekka and Dorl snuggled together.
    “These are strange times,” Bahr told his friend.
    Boen merely shook his head and went into the kitchen. Bahr puzzled him. He was a good friend and a stalwart companion, but he had too many ghosts haunting him. Boen empathized. Gaimosians spent most of their lives being chased by ghosts. He pushed the thought aside as he passed Anienam. The wizard was face down in that dusty old book snoring. Skuld sat behind the old man, staring out the nearest window as if waiting for Harnin to come. Certainly plausible, the thought made Boen frown. He’d love to run his sword through that one-eyed bastard. More, he liked Skuld. The lad showed character when needed. He had a fire in him that often reminded Boen of his own youth. Satisfied, Boen snatched a mouthful of bacon and went outside.
    Argis turned at the soft click of the door opening.
    “There is hot food and tea brewing,” Boen announced more gruffly than intended.
    Argis sheathed his sword, frowning at the thin veil of frost coating the blade. “I would rather have sleep. It has been damned cold out the last few nights. Winter is finally here. My old bones don’t agree with the weather the way they used to.”
    “A terrible thing, getting old,” Boen agreed.
    “Indeed.”
    Argis stared at the Gaimosian a moment, silently wondering the man’s true intentions. He decided to let matters remain unspoken and went inside, looking over his shoulder only once. Argis was surprised to see the Gaimosian stretching out his immense muscles. No doubt Boen meant to practice his sword techniques. Argis was no stranger to battle, but this was not his place. He closed the door behind him.
    The pleasant smell of breakfast greeted him. It was the last thing he expected. His companions were a rough lot used to the hardships in life. Simple luxuries were more of a nuisance. He idly wondered how many men they had killed between them. Of course there was no point in wasting his time trying to figure it out, he was just glad they were all on the same side. For now.
    “Well, Argis, it looks like