Based on what Ridmark had seen of the Old One that Hhrolazur had spoken with, it was just as likely that the Old One would kill Vhorlaskur. But that was not his problem.
At the moment, the captives were his concern.
Ridmark circled around the tower from the opposite direction. Soon the pen holding the captive kobolds came into sight. Unfortunately, it was still guarded. Fortunately, there were only two warriors standing at the entrance to the pen. They both were paying more attention to Vhorlaskur’s oration than to their prisoners.
There was also a clear line from the pen to the outer gate of the palisade, and unlike the pen, the gate was unguarded. Ridmark needed a distraction.
Perhaps he could arrange one.
He crept back around the tower. Vhorlaskur’s sermon continued to hold the orcs’ attention, and Ridmark moved towards one of the crackling bonfires at the edge of the square, trusting in his gray cloak to blend with the darkness. He jerked a burning branch from the flames and hurried towards one of the round houses, ducking behind it. The branch hissed as he touched it to the thatched roof, and the fire spread.
Ridmark managed to set two more roofs on fire before the branch burned out, and he hoped that would be enough.
He ran along the perimeter of the palisade, heading towards the pen and hoping he could reach it before the burning roofs became noticeable. Shadows were everywhere, and Ridmark tried to keep to them, hoping to avoid the notice of the guards before it was too late.
It almost worked.
He had gotten perhaps a dozen yards from the pen before the guards noticed him. They had a brief moment of surprise. Ridmark seized that moment of surprise and threw himself forward, whipping his staff in a swing with all his strength behind it. The end of the staff struck the nearest bone orc in the white-painted forehead, and the warrior’s head snapped back with a crack. The second warrior bellowed an alarm and charged, and Ridmark dodged, barely avoiding the stabbing shaft of the warrior’s spear. He struck with his staff, and his blow broke the orc’s right wrist. The bone orc stumbled with a howl of pain, and Ridmark killed him with a strike to the head.
The bone orc slumped to the ground, and Ridmark heard shouts rising from the other side of the tower. The fighting had drawn notice from the assembly, but the first thing they had seen was the burning houses. With luck, that would hold their attention for the moment.
Ridmark seized the gate to the pen and wrenched it open. On the other side, over forty kobold warriors got to their feet, all of them marked with the jaw tattoo of their clan. Eighty sets of yellow eyes fell upon him, and the kobolds crept forward, getting ready to spring upon him.
“Listen to me!” snapped Ridmark. “Agataph and Caulbrach sent me!”
That made the kobolds freeze in surprise.
“Run, you idiots!” said Ridmark. “The way to the gate is clear. Move!”
He did not wait for an answer, but turned and ran for the gate. The rustling of kobold scales and the tapping of kobold claws against the ground filled his ears as the prisoners followed him, first a few at a time, and then in a rush.
Ridmark sprinted towards the gate, reached it, and heaved the bar away from the heavy doors.
He started to push, and then the bone orcs charged him.
Three warriors came at him, and Ridmark whirled. Two of the bone orcs had swords, and one had an axe. The axe-wielding orc came first, and Ridmark dared not parry the weapon with his staff. He ducked and jabbed the end of his staff into the orc’s belly, stunning the warrior, and the two swordsmen came at him. Ridmark whipped his staff in a circle, blocking their sword strokes, but they pressed him hard, and he could not manage to land a blow.
Then the kobolds swarmed over all three orcs in a tide of scales and fangs and claws. The orcs had time to scream, briefly, before the Dagger Jaws tore out their throats. Ridmark whirled and slammed himself against the palisade gate, and this time the doors shuddered open.
“Move!” he yelled.
He dashed out the gate and into the night, and the kobolds swarmed after him.
###
Drums boomed from the village of Qazhosk.
Ridmark stood on the hilltop with Agataph, Caulbrach, and the chief kobold warriors, watching the flames burn inside the palisade. One by one the orcs were putting out the fires.
“They will pursue us, shaman,” said Caulbrach with a growl.
“Yes, but not tonight,” said Agataph. “Vhorlaskur is not stupid enough to blunder about in the dark after us. Instead, he shall gather a war party and come at us in the Deeps. We must return to our village and be ready for them.”
“Very well,” said Caulbrach. He turned and began snarling orders to his warriors.
“And you, human Ridmark,” said Agataph. “You have done well. You have kept your promise to the Dagger Jaws.”
Ridmark nodded and dropped the bandoleer of smoke bombs upon the ground between them. “Your bombs. I didn’t need them after all. But best to be prepared, is it not?”
His fingers tightened against his staff.
“Indeed,” said Agataph, showing his fangs. “Now I shall keep my promise to you. I told you that the dark elven prince known as the Jeweler once ruled these lands. The Elder Shamans reside in the ruins of his former citadel, a place called Urd Drysaar in the Lion Mountains.”
“Where is Urd Drysaar?” said Ridmark.
“Two days east of here you shall find the River of Fangs,” said Agataph. “Follow it east until you reach the Lion Mountains and the ruins of the dwarven city of Khald Meraxur. Do not enter the ruins, but take the stairs by the gate of Khald Meraxur into the Lion Mountains. From there the path shall lead you to the house of the Elder Shamans and to your death at their hands.”
Ridmark inclined his head. “Thank you. I shall depart, and leave you to your battle with Vhorlaskur.”
“Mmm,” said Agataph. “If you go to Urd Drysaar, you shall die.”
“I will take that chance,” said Ridmark.
“Then it is a kindness,” said Agataph, “that we shall kill you and devour you at our victory feast.”
“Then you betray your word to me?” said Ridmark.
The other kobolds turned to face him, and Agataph laughed.
“Not at all!” said Agataph. “I keep my word. I said I would see you safely to your final destination. It is no fault of mine that your destination is our feast table. Kill him!”
The kobolds raised their bows, and Ridmark moved, taking a deep breath and raking his staff across the fallen bandoleer, shattering all four of the smoke bombs at once. The elixir within the bombs exploded with a whooshing noise, and a plume of gray smoke erupted from the hilltop, rushing to engulf Ridmark. He ducked and whirled, rolling across the ground as the kobolds screeched in alarm and arrows rushed past him, but he got to his feet and ran as fast as he could.
###
Ridmark did not stop running for a day and a half. The kobolds of the Dagger Jaws pursued him at first but soon lost interest. They faced greater enemies. Their little raid on Qazhosk had undoubtedly enraged Vhorlaskur and his warriors, and Agataph and Caulbrach needed every warrior to deal with the bone orcs.
In other words, the kobolds had bigger problems.
After a day and a half, he reached the bank of a broad river flowing to the west. This was the River of Fangs, and if Ridmark followed it long enough, it would take him to Urd Drysaar and the Elder Shamans.
And there, perhaps, he would find the answers he sought about the Frostborn.
THE END
Thank you for reading THE DAGGER JAWS. If you liked the book, please consider leaving a review at your ebook site of choice. To receive immediate notification of new releases, sign up for my newsletter, or watch for news on my Facebook page.
Follow this link to read the next adventure for Ridmark and his companions in Frostborn: The Gray Knight.
Other books by the author
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The Dagger Jaws Page 3
