The Dragonspire Chronicles Omnibus 1

by James E. Wisher

  Wrath had shrunk to about half his earlier size and the anger that had driven him faded to a dull burn in the back of his mind. Part of him wanted the guild master to suffer, but it was a much smaller part now. Small enough that he had a firm grip on it and no fear of being overwhelmed again.

  Half an hour before sunset, Silas led them off the side of the road and down a narrow deer trail that ended beside a shallow brook. They tended their horses and tied them up near a patch of lush, green grass at the edge of a clearing. The clean smell of the forest and the babbling of the brook soothed Yaz’s ragged nerves.

  Silas glanced at Brigid and Yaz. “I’m going to go collect firewood.”

  He took Wicked out of the pouch at his side and stomped off into the nearby woods, the little undead floating at his shoulder. For someone who’d been traveling alone before meeting up with Brigid and Yaz, Silas had a good sense of how to deal with people, a better sense than Yaz had ever had, that was for sure. If the two of them ever needed some time alone, this was it.

  He slumped on his saddle and braced himself to open the door. Brigid settled beside him and said, “Tell me about it.”

  “Are you sure you want to hear everything?” he asked.

  “I think I need to,” Brigid said.

  Yaz nodded. In his mind, a little more of the black ice melted. Hopefully, he could ease his emotions out as he told the story. That should make it a little less overwhelming.

  Yaz spoke hesitantly at first, not certain how to begin. Sentence by sentence he got stronger. When he reached the part about what he did to the guild master’s family, tears ran freely down his face. Brigid stroked his hair and whispered words of reassurance.

  The last of the ice shattered and fell away. His emotions came rushing out and for a few seconds he was unable to speak.

  When he got himself under control, he cleared his throat and continued. Yaz finished at the moment he stepped into the little basement room where they’d held Brigid captive. “And you know the rest. I’m not proud of what I did,” he said. “But if I had to, I would do it again without a second thought.”

  “What did you say to him? You know, right before we left,” Brigid asked.

  “When he threatened us with a new bounty,” Yaz said. “I told him if he did that, I’d come back and make him wish that I had burned his family to death. I’d just as soon not give you the exact details of what I suggested. Suffice it to say I’m confident he won’t be putting a new bounty on our heads.”

  “I’m sorry I made you do all that,” Brigid said. “If I hadn’t gotten captured…”

  Yaz reached up and squeezed her hand. “You didn’t make me do anything. I had already lost so much, the thought of losing you drove me over the edge. For the two days you were a prisoner, I think it’s fair to say I wasn’t really myself.”

  “Well.” Brigid leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. “You seem to be back to normal now. Let’s see if we can keep it that way.”

  Yaz hoped he’d be able to grant her request, but deep down, a small piece of him wondered if Wrath wasn’t closer to his true personality. He hoped not but he couldn’t dismiss the possibility.

  When Silas emerged from the forest with an armload of dry branches, Yaz had himself under control and his tears dried. The wizard dumped his load, made a little pile of the smallest sticks, and snapped his fingers. A tiny lightning bolt leapt out and struck the wood, setting it instantly ablaze.

  “You two get everything straightened out?” Silas asked.

  Yaz sat up and nodded. “I’m good, thanks. While dinner’s cooking, I’m going to take a closer look at the information I found.”

  “I thought you remembered everything,” Brigid said.

  “I do, but I didn’t read the ledger, I just looked at the pages, so what I remember is an image of the words not their meaning.”

  Brigid shook her head. “I don’t get it, but as long as you know what you’re talking about, that’s all that matters. I’ll get the stew going. You do whatever you need to do.”

  Yaz closed his eyes and entered his mental library. Since it was among his most recent memories, it didn’t take long to find the ledger. His emotions had all vanished along with the hidden door. That was a relief. Their absence proved to him that he was under control, at least for the moment. They’d become visible again the next time he got upset, but for now he was content to enjoy the quiet.

  He opened the ledger and scanned the listings, more for the buyer than the names of who was sold. Most were sold singly or in pairs. The farmers were sold as general labor and those with skills went to people with need for them. The second largest block was the sages. They all went to the same buyer, a book dealer in the capital. Slaves that could read and write were probably a great find for him.

  The largest block was the one that interested Yaz right now. Thirty laborers sold to a merchant collective called Alchemy Supplies. That would be the place to start. Though he knew he wouldn’t find them, Yaz spent a few minutes searching carefully for his parents, but as he expected there was no sign of their names.

  He sighed and blinked a second time. A pot bubbled over the fire and a savory scent filled the air. “I know where we need to go first.”

  “Where?” Brigid asked.

  “Alchemy Supplies’ main office. They bought twenty of our people. Someone at the office will know where they’re working.”

  “Why start there?” Silas asked.

  “Simple, I know where it is. They bought over half of the village’s dragon scales. Someone came twice a year to pick them up.”

  “What about my parents?” Brigid asked. Her whole body trembled when she spoke. It was the most emotion he’d seen from her in a while.

  “They were sold to separate farms well to the southwest. I know you want to get them as soon as possible, believe me I do, but we need to grab the biggest groups first. Once word gets out about what we’re doing, the harder it will be to free everyone. Getting one person from a small farm will be easier than breaking into a place like Alchemy Supplies.”

  She nodded, clearly not happy, but hopefully willing to accept his plan.

  “Think they’ll remember you at the alchemy place?” Silas asked.

  “Maybe, but if they don’t turn our people over, they’ll remember me when I’m done.”

  Brigid gave him a sideways look and Yaz sighed. Maybe Wrath was still a little out of control. At least that’s what he wanted to think, but the truth was, the threats came so easily now he hardly had to think about them. The thought of bashing someone over the head and breaking a leg didn’t bother him much, and it should. Deep inside he knew that. Being determined was fine, but he had to be careful not to turn in to someone he didn’t want to be.

  “Don’t worry,” Yaz said. “I’m not going to kill anyone. But it has become painfully clear that if you want someone to do as you say, aggressive persuasion is sometimes necessary.”

  “I understand,” Brigid said. “It’s just that sometimes it feels like things have gotten completely out of control.”

  “If you think things are out of control now,” Silas said. “Wait until word gets out that you’re running around freeing slaves. You’re fighting against an institution that is hundreds of years old, and an ingrained part of the kingdom’s history. No one is going to accept that lying down.”

  Yaz had never thought about it that way. What he saw as freeing his family, friends, and the people of his village, the slaver owners saw as having their property stolen and their livelihoods threatened. Of course they were going to fight back and resist as best they could. But that wasn’t going to stop him. One way or another, Yaz would see his family and his people free.

  Chapter 18

  No man’s land was a band of wilderness to the east of Rend and Carttoom and south of the freeholds. The area teemed with wildlife, some of it wilder than others and some of it not entirely of natural origin. Given the wealth of timber and minerals in the foothills, both kingdom
s had tried to tame the rugged land and both had failed miserably. Rend had sent a full legion to carve a foothold. Fifty survivors had returned three weeks later with tales that would curl your hair. The current king had written the area off after that, wisely in Moz’s opinion.

  And now Moz found himself traveling through the area with only a bandit for company. After three days of traveling together, he and Alva had settled in to a somewhat comfortable rhythm. The former bandit and current prisoner made no moves to try and escape and in return, Moz didn’t tie him to a tree every night. It was a decent system given what Moz had to work with. Not that he slept deeply or well, but at least he slept.

  Traveling with a prisoner was one of the rare times Moz would have liked a partner. No man’s land did a fine job all on its own of keeping Alva close and well behaved. Only an idiot would risk traveling with no weapons, no armor, and alone in the monster-haunted region.

  In the last two days they already had to make wide detours around a pack of terror birds and a saber-fanged tiger. Neither of the creatures had noticed them for which Moz was grateful. Fighting half a dozen thousand-pound flightless birds with beaks like axes was only moderately less daunting than fighting a two-ton tiger with foot-long teeth like swords. Surviving a bandit war only to get killed by a random predator would have been too pathetic for words.

  “Are we getting close?” Moz asked.

  “Should be,” Alva said. “Like I told you before, I’ve only been here a couple times and always with an escort. Are you sure you don’t want to just turn around? I’m happy to take my chances in prison rather than with the local wildlife.”

  “You’re a murderer, Alva. It’s the rope for you, not a cell.”

  “Well, why should I keep helping you if I’m going to die anyway?”

  “Because hanging is a better way to die than getting staked out for the terror birds.”

  “You make a compelling point. If we make it through this and back to Rend, can’t you at least put in a good word for me?”

  “Fine, but only if you shut up about anything not related to our mission or a question I ask.”

  “Deal.” Alva grinned like a good word from Moz was likely to keep him from hanging. “If we keep on this bearing, I think we’ll be within sight of the fortress by the end of the day. You don’t want to get too close. They cleared an area a half a mile across all around it to keep anyone or anything from getting too near unnoticed.”

  Moz only half heard him. There was something weird in the sky. A big, fluffy white cloud was flying against the wind. It was miles distant but impossible not to notice. Why would a cloud be flying against the wind? It wasn’t possible, not without magic. And why would you use magic to do something like that anyway?

  “See that cloud?” Moz pointed.

  Alva squinted. “I see a cloud. What about it?”

  “It’s moving against the wind.”

  “No, it’s not moving at all.”

  Moz frowned. He was right. The cloud had stopped dead in the sky while every other cloud continued on its merry way.

  “Gods’ blood!” The crazy thing started slowly falling out of the sky. Moz had seen some weird things in his travels, but this took the cake. “What’s over there? Looks close to the mountains.”

  Alva stared then looked left and right. Finally, he snapped his fingers. “The old imperial capital. I remember one of the Dark Sage guys mentioning the ruins were off that way. All sorts of strange things over there. That cloud probably got caught in some old magic or other.”

  Moz nodded. He’d heard stories of the former capital. It was supposed to be a death trap. Alva was probably right, though why, by all the watching gods, anyone would want to pull a cloud out of the sky he couldn’t begin to guess. Probably why he was a ranger and not a wizard.

  Whatever it was, it had nothing to do with his current mission. Moz put the cloud out of his mind and urged his mount into motion. The trees were thin enough to allow them easy passage and the scent of evergreen made a nice change from fire and death back at the settlement.

  It was nearly sunset when Moz reined in a few yards from the edge of the woods. As promised, a tall fortress of black stone surrounded by a wall built of the same material dominated a massive clearing. A rough road ran east to west thirty yards from the main gate. Once upon a time that road had probably been an imperial highway that connected the capital to the eastern provinces. Time and weather hadn’t done it any good.

  “So what now?” Alva asked. “You’ve seen the place. Can we get out of here?”

  “Hardly. We’ll make a cold camp tonight and begin surveillance tomorrow.”

  “Surveillance? For how long?”

  “Until I’m satisfied or we get low on supplies.”

  Moz urged his horse back into the woods. They’d set up a quarter mile or so from the edge of the woods. A few days to a week should give him some idea of what was going on out here. And if a visitor should come with a weak guard, well, a little interrogation might not go amiss either.

  Moz had been watching the road for a little over an hour when the first visitors arrived. Far sooner than Moz expected and from the wrong direction. A small party of four appeared riding out of the west – the same direction as the capital and where Moz saw the weird cloud. It was probably a coincidence, but Moz didn’t believe in coincidences. Whether it was important or not was a whole other question. Pity he didn’t have a spyglass. But even without one it was clear the group was dressed in Dark Sage black robes.

  All but one that was. The fourth person, Moz guessed it was a man based on height, but couldn’t really be certain, wore a dark tunic and trousers. That one had to be a warrior. Just the way he held himself screamed danger.

  “Any idea why they’d be coming from that way?” Moz asked.

  Alva shrugged. “The sages are always looking for some magic thing or other. Maybe they were prowling around the ruins.”

  That made sense, though if what he’d heard about the ruins was accurate, you’d want a lot more than four people in your group. Maybe they were the survivors.

  When the group reached the main gate, they were instantly ushered in. Whoever they were, they were important. Gate guards had only a piddling amount of authority and always exercised it when someone came to call. If they let those four in that fast you could be sure they were high up.

  Once they were inside and out of sight, Moz settled in to wait some more. And wait he did, for hours and hours until dark. Not another soul appeared from either direction.

  The next day passed much the same as the first. When the third day dawned, Moz had had his fill of watching the empty road. After a cold breakfast of jerky and hardtack he said, “We’re going to have a look at those ruins.”

  Alva nearly choked on his food. “Are you nuts? Nothing out there but smashed buildings and death. Let’s just pack it in and head back. No shame in that.”

  “I was telling you my plans, not asking your opinion.”

  Ten minutes later they were mounted up and making their way through the woods, around the clearing to the far end of the road. They reached it without incident and kicked their horses into a trot.

  They rode through lunch and around midafternoon the first tower appeared in the distance. A big one with a dragon at the top. A jagged length of metal emerged from the dragon’s mouth and it appeared to be spitting lightning. That might be what dragged the cloud down. Though Moz still couldn’t imagine why anyone would want to.

  A quarter mile on Moz spotted a little clearing fifty yards off the road. Looked like a perfect spot to leave the horses. He nudged his mount toward it and when they arrived climbed down. Despite his manacles and missing hand, Alva scrambled to the ground on his own. He’d had plenty of practice over the past few days and now managed the task easily.

  Moz hobbled the horses and left them cropping grass while he and his prisoner continued on foot. It wasn’t even ten minutes later that the city edge came into view in the form of a hand
ful of smashed stone huts. Not the most awe-inspiring imperial ruins Moz had ever seen, but he assumed they would get more impressive the deeper they went into the city.

  “Are we really going in?” Alva asked.

  “Yes, and if you complain one more time, I’ll knock you over the head and leave you there.”

  Moz scratched his chin as he eyed the ruins. Assuming the Dark Sages had come from here, the safest thing to do would be to figure out where they exited and follow their trail.

  It took a good fifteen minutes of searching to find the tracks, and it wasn’t just a few from four horses. Whoever they were, they were making regular trips to the ruins. Clearly there must be something interesting inside.

  The path went between a pair of square towers that had been smashed almost exactly in half. Moz’s gaze darted constantly from the trail to the looming buildings and back again. Sometimes he thought he caught a flicker of movement, but when he looked closer there was never anything there. While he never considered himself the fanciful sort, something about the setting encouraged that sort of thinking.

  A few hundred yards in, dirt and rubble gave way to neat cobblestone. The street looked so perfect it might have been taken from Rend City. It was amazing to find something so undamaged after such a long time. There had to be magic involved, but Moz was hardly the one to figure it out.

  What he needed to focus on was following tracks across stone. It had been simple enough out in the dirt and grass, but here the path turned subtle; scuff marks on the stone, disturbed dust, that kind of thing. It was always damn tricky tracking someone through a city, even a ruined city. At least there weren’t other people to disturb the signs. If there had been, Moz would’ve been doomed.

  As it was their speed slowed to a crawl. A quarter mile took them nearly half an hour. They reached a plaza decorated with a pair of perfect statues depicting a man petting a dragon’s head and Moz stopped to rest his eyes. The man was probably a former emperor, one of Ariel’s many-times-great grandfathers.