The Dragonspire Chronicles Omnibus 1

by James E. Wisher

  No one found fault with that suggestion and they started walking again. Every warehouse had a sign on the front above the main doors. Some had writing, others just designs. Wagons were being loaded and unloaded by swearing teamsters at every warehouse but one. The quiet building had a sign featuring three dragons chasing each other’s tails. That had to be their target.

  The group continued past, careful not to give the place a second look in case someone was watching. When they reached the end of the street they stopped in the shade of a rundown tavern.

  Yaz scratched his chin. “You’d think they’d have something going on, just to blend in a little. Anyone paying the least attention could tell something strange was happening at that warehouse.”

  “No one was, though,” Brigid said. “Everyone’s so busy with their own work, they don’t give anyone else a thought. That would never happen back home. Even out on the farms, everyone knew everyone else’s business.”

  “I didn’t see any guards,” Silas said. “I expected at least a lookout.”

  “Someone standing around and not working would look even more suspicious than the quiet warehouse,” Yaz said. “They have a dock. Maybe we could attack from the river.”

  “We’d be sitting ducks coming from that way,” Gerard said. “Maybe—”

  His thought was cut off by the clatter of a wagon rumbling to a stop in front of them. The driver climbed down, tied off his team to the rail in front of the tavern, and said, “You’re blocking the door.”

  “Sorry,” Yaz said. He looked at the wagon and grinned. “I’ll give you two silver scales for the use of your wagon for half an hour.”

  “Five,” the man said without missing a beat.

  “Three, I don’t need you to drive it.”

  “Deal.” The driver stuck out his filthy hand and Yaz shook it. “You pay for any damage.”

  “Fair enough.” Yaz counted the coins out and passed them over.

  The driver went in looking well pleased. Yaz eyed the empty wagon.

  “What was that about?” Gerard asked.

  “Lost teamsters making a delivery.” Yaz untied the horses. “It’s a warehouse, right? What could be less threatening than a wagon pulling up to the door to make a delivery?”

  “That could work,” Gerard said.

  “Great.” Yaz looked at each of them in turn. “Anyone know how to drive one of these things?”

  The wagon clattered up to the Three Dragons warehouse with Gerard driving and Yaz riding beside him. Apparently in his youth, Gerard had worked as a teamster on three caravans before moving to Fort Kane and getting a position with the watch. Brigid and Silas hid under a tarp in the back posing as cargo.

  “Whoa.” Gerard pulled back on the reins. They waited a full minute for someone to come out and see what they wanted, but no one obliged. “What do you want to do now?”

  Yaz hopped down from the wagon seat. “Knock.”

  He pulled a dagger and held it hidden along his forearm then marched straight up to the heavy wooden doors and rapped good and hard half a dozen times. Half a minute passed and he feared he was going to be ignored a second time when the doors finally opened enough for a grizzled face to appear in the gap.

  “What the bloody hell do you want?” he asked.

  “I got a delivery.” Yaz jerked a thumb toward the wagon.

  “We’re not expecting a delivery.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you, pal. We just go where we’re sent. This is the Three Dragons warehouse, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You don’t have another warehouse around here do you?”

  “No.”

  “There you go. Could you let us in? If we hurry, my partner and I might get another load today.”

  “We’re in the middle of something here,” the man said. “I’m telling you this isn’t the warehouse you want.”

  “Can’t you at least take a look? If we return with the load, our boss is going to be furious. Please?”

  The man stepped out revealing an apron-covered pot belly and bowed legs. “I can’t let you in no matter your cargo. I feel for you, really. I’ve worked for my share of assholes, but it’s out of my hands.”

  Yaz snapped the dagger up and pressed the tip hard against his neck. “That’s a shame. Because if you don’t open that door and let us in, I’m going to have to kill you and do it myself. You don’t strike me as a Scaled Society true believer. No reason to die for fanatics, right?”

  “Gods damn it. I told them not to bring the merchant here, but did anyone listen to me? No, I’m just the warehouse manager. What do I know?”

  “Where are they holding Randall?” Yaz asked.

  “Rear left corner. He’s tied up on the floor. Two guards.”

  “Anything else? Be honest, don’t do anything stupid, and you might live through this.”

  “No. It’s just the three of us. Not like a man bound hand and foot’s going to cause us any trouble. Not beyond shutting my business down and getting me taken hostage at least.”

  “I feel for you,” Yaz said. “Let’s get those doors open. I’m going to let you go, but I won’t be far away, get me?”

  “Yeah, I got it.”

  Yaz lowered the dagger and pushed the right-side door open while the manager pushed the left. As soon as it opened enough, Gerard snapped his reins and guided the wagon through. Yaz fell in behind them.

  The inside of the building was lit by oil lanterns that cast a ruddy glow over dozens of stacks of crates. Two men in leather armor, big, strong and fit, unlike the manager, came running from deeper in the warehouse. Both of them held drawn long swords.

  “Hey! What are you doing?” the left-hand guard shouted.

  “Silas!” Yaz shouted.

  The wizard popped up from under the tarp and hurled lightning from both hands striking each man in the chest and sending them flying across the warehouse into a pile of crates where they stayed very still.

  No other threat presented itself as Silas and Brigid climbed down out of the wagon. The warehouse manager closed the doors and came over, hands raised. “I guess you weren’t messing around. Those two had a fair reputation as fighters. They worked for us as caravan guards plenty of times over the years.”

  Gerard leapt down from the driver’s seat and ran toward the rear of the warehouse. Yaz and the others followed more slowly. When they reached the back left section, Randall was free of his bindings and rubbing his wrists.

  “Are you well, my lord?” Gerard asked.

  “Yes. And for the thousandth time call me Randall. I figured I was going to die here. Should’ve known you and Emma wouldn’t let that happen.”

  “Lady Cobb and I will always do our utmost to keep you safe,” Gerard said. “But much of our success is due to these three.”

  Randall looked Yaz and his friends over before settling his gaze on Yaz. “You look familiar.”

  “Yazgrim Yeager. I sold you wolf hides two years ago. My father’s chief of Dragonspire Village.”

  Randall snapped his fingers. “Right, I remember now. How did you escape?”

  “Escape?” Yaz shook his head. “Brigid and I were out of the valley when whatever happened, happened. Our parents are missing along with all the other villagers and visitors. We found your lucky coin and came hoping for answers. Saving you seemed like the best way to get them.”

  “Not that we weren’t happy to help,” Brigid added.

  “Whatever your reasons, I’m glad for the rescue. As for what happened, I’m not entirely sure myself. Last thing I remember was eating a late supper at the inn when a wave of exhaustion rolled over me. Next thing I know I’m manacled and locked in the hold of a ship along with scores of others. When my captors finally bring me up on deck, we’re in Port Steel harbor.”

  Yaz knew all the maps of Carttoom and there was no way for a ship to travel from the valley to Port Steel directly. Even the deepest rivers would accommodate only shallow barges. Trading ships sailed al
ong the coast and that was it.

  “How?” Yaz asked.

  Randall stood and stretched, cracking his back and neck. “I asked myself that more times than I can count and still have no good answers. Anyway, from the docks we were taken to a slave processing center. Men and women were separated, questioned, and divided further based on any skills they possessed. Yazguard and the other warriors ended up in a third area, far from the rest of us.”

  “My mother?” Yaz asked.

  “I’m sorry, I saw no sign of her. When my turn came and I gave my name, I was quickly taken aside. Among the merchant class at least, I’m fairly well known. Any attempt to sell me in an open auction wasn’t going to go well. Many of the bidders were apt to be my colleagues and none of them would believe for a moment that I was a debt slave and the idea of having a peer kidnapped and sold into bondage wouldn’t please them any better.”

  “But no one would care about poor farmers like my parents,” Brigid said.

  Randall shook his head and refused to meet her angry glare. “That’s the way of the world I fear. No one ever claimed it’s fair. The bosses got into an argument about what to do with me. I only recognized one of them. Korbin Breaker runs the Slavers Guild. He wanted to kill me and feed my body to the sharks. A few of the others agreed, but an old bearded man, an elder in the Scaled Society I think, asked that I be turned over to him. They’d try to get my wife to pay a ransom for me before finishing me off. The others seemed to think he’d done something to earn an extra reward and they agreed on the condition that I never speak to anyone about what happened.”

  “How could they promise that?” Brigid asked.

  “By killing me once they got the gold. I’m delighted that they failed thanks to you all. I hope my story was suitable reward for saving my life.”

  Yaz shook Randall’s hand. “It was, thank you. We’ll escort you home before resuming our search.”

  “No need,” Randall said. “Gerard and I can find our way back on our own. For what it’s worth, I wish you both the best of luck finding your families. If I can be of assistance, please, don’t hesitate to call on me. You’ll be welcome at my home anytime.”

  “I’ll run the wagon back to the tavern before we go,” Gerard said. He gave them a final nod and helped his master out of the warehouse.

  And once again they were on their own. At least they’d done some good and now they knew where to look next, more or less. Port Steel was the biggest city in the kingdom and Yaz seriously doubted the Slavers Guild was going to tell them where everyone was sold. Nevertheless, he felt more optimistic than any point since returning to the valley and finding everyone gone.

  “So, Port Steel next?” Silas asked. “Can’t say I’m too excited about it. A lot of bounty hunters work out of the city.”

  “It’s also home to the Scriveners Guild’s headquarters,” Yaz said. “I’m sure no one will be thrilled if they learn we’re there. Unfortunately, it’s our best lead. Before we go, there’s one more thing I want to do here.”

  The warehouse manager was still standing quietly off to one side, clearly hoping he’d been forgotten about. Pity for him he hadn’t been.

  Yaz walked over and leaned with one hand on the wall so his face was only inches from the manager’s. “Tell me where your boss lives.”

  Yaz, Brigid, and Silas stood across the street from a pleasant, two-story house in the city’s finest neighborhood. It was far enough away that they could barely smell the river. Judging by the silk-and-satin festooned locals, Yaz and his friends were woefully underdressed.

  “No guards,” Yaz said. “This Delmar guy must be confident no one is going to bother him.”

  The warehouse manager had been all too eager to tell them everything about his employer, or no doubt former employer considering how things had turned out with the prisoner. Apparently, Delmar owned a string of warehouses up and down the Wallowing River. Though he had no proof, Yaz suspected it was one of the Scaled Society’s main income sources. Business must not be very good if they resorted to extortion.

  “Are we going to kick the door down?” Silas asked. He sounded eager to give it a try.

  “I thought we might just knock,” Yaz said. “Specifically, I thought Brigid might knock. There’s a little peephole in the door. I figure a servant looking out and seeing a pretty blond rather than me or you, will be more likely to open up. Once the door’s open, the rest is easy.”

  “Knife to the throat and violent threats?” Silas asked.

  “If it isn’t broke, don’t fix it.” Yaz turned to Brigid. “You don’t mind being the bait, do you?”

  “Not at all. I wasn’t much help at the warehouse, so I’m glad to pitch in.”

  “That’s the spirit. Silas, do you want the dagger?”

  “Nope,” Silas said. “I’m not much good with a knife.”

  While Brigid ran her fingers through her matted hair and generally spruced herself up Yaz said, “Didn’t you train with weapons?”

  “The basics.” Silas shrugged. “My master taught me to throw lightning. He didn’t figure he needed to teach me to stab people too.”

  Yaz didn’t have an argument for that.

  “I can’t do much more without a bath and comb,” Brigid said.

  She had her hair smoothed and the snarls picked out. She always looked beautiful to Yaz, but he wouldn’t lie and claim she was at her best.

  “You look great.” He looked up and down the street. They were alone save for a couple strolling five doors down. “And don’t worry, I’ll be right beside you. We’ll go as soon as those two are out of sight.”

  Brigid watched the locals walking hand in hand and sighed. “Will we ever have a moment like that?”

  “Of course we will.” Yaz gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “When we’ve rescued our parents, gotten the bounties on our heads removed, and returned home, we can walk in the fields and watch your sheep graze.”

  “Assuming the dragons haven’t eaten them all,” Silas said.

  Yaz shot him a “not helping” glare. “The street’s clear. We need to go, now.”

  Brigid trotted across the street and stood directly in front of the door. Yaz took up position to the side opposite the hinges. He drew his dagger and nodded.

  She took a breath and knocked. Nothing happened for a moment, then the little slot opened. “May I help you, young lady?” a stiff, proper voice asked.

  “I have a message for Master Delmar. There’s been some trouble down by the river.”

  “I can relay the message,” the servant said.

  “The warehouse manager said I should tell no one but Delmar. He was adamant.”

  The servant sniffed. “That man has always had too high an opinion of himself. Very well. You may wait in the sitting room while I check if the master will see you.”

  The slot snapped shut and the door opened. The moment the way was clear Yaz reached out, clamped a hand on the servant’s arm, and pressed the knife to his ribs. He would have gone for the neck, but the man was nearly as tall as Yaz’s father though so gaunt he probably only weighed a hundred and fifty pounds.

  “Make a sound and I’ll drive this into your liver. It’s a painful way to die. Inside.”

  Using pressure from the dagger to force the servant back Yaz entered a parlor decorated with couches and a small table. A narrow staircase led up to the second floor. Brigid followed him in and Silas joined them a second later, closing the door behind him.

  “Where’s Delmar?” Yaz asked.

  When the servant didn’t speak, he pressed harder with the dagger. The tip pierced flesh and blood flowed. The tall man winced.

  “I’m willing to search the whole house if I have to,” Yaz said. “You can save me time and yourself pain if you answer my question.”

  “Jenkins?” a muffled voice called from upstairs. “Is everything okay? Who was at the door?”

  “Consider your answer carefully.” Yaz gave the dagger a twist.

  “A
lost delivery boy, sir,” Jenkins said. “I gave him directions and sent him on his way.”

  “Well enough. Bring us up some tea, won’t you?”

  “Right away, sir.”

  “Well done,” Yaz said. “You get to continue breathing. Which room upstairs?”

  “The library, second door on your right.”

  “Silas, would you mind?” Yaz asked.

  The wizard put his hand on Jenkins’s should and darkness gathered under his fingers. A moment later Jenkins collapsed to the floor, still breathing, but in no position to cause them trouble.

  Yaz mounted the steps and took them two at a time. At the top, a hall branched left and right. He went to the right and stopped at the second door. It was slightly ajar and two soft voices murmured. Brigid and Silas stood a few feet behind him.

  They were as ready as they were going to be.

  Yaz pushed the door open and froze.

  Seated at the room’s sole table were a familiar pair. On the left was Master Robotham and on the right his friend from the inn. A big mystery clicked into place. Only one thing could explain why Robotham wasn’t in a slave collar.

  “It was you,” Yaz said.

  “Yaz, I can explain,” the former master of dragons said.

  Yaz didn’t really hear him though he registered the words in the back of his mind. “I thought maybe one of the squires sold the village out, they all had enough basic knowledge to dose some meat with dragon’s bane. But I should have known it was you. I didn’t want to believe a man I considered my friend would do something like that. A bit of sentimental stupidity on my part.”

  “Please, I can explain everything if you’ll let me.”

  “That’s good.” Yaz finally stepped into the room and marched over to the table. His grip on the dagger was so tight the handle dug into his palm. “If you tell me everything, I promise to make your death quick.”

  “Look here, young man,” Delmar said. “You can’t just walk into the home of one of Fort Kane’s most prominent citizens and start making threats. I’ll have you—”