The Brotherhood of Dwarves: Book 02 - Red Sky at Dawn

by D. A. Adams

  The steward clambered to his feet and opened the rack that held the king’s best axes. While Kraganere chose the weapons he would take, the steward unpacked a suit of mail suitable for battle. Pleased with both his weapons and the mail, Kraganere ordered the steward to deliver them to the livery. Then, he returned upstairs to instruct his wife and other children that he was heading to the eastern gate.

  ***

  Master Sondious rode for three days, barely sleeping more than a couple of hours a night and changing ponies frequently as he passed through cities and townships. When he finally reached the eastern gate, he had at least four days before the moon cycle ended to talk with the ogres and lower tensions, so he slept for a full night and spent half of the next day grooming himself to greet the clan matriarchs present.

  At the gate, these soldiers acted much the same as the young ones in Dorkhun outside the advisor’s window, a lot of blustering and bravado about how badly they were going to defeat their enemy. Master Sondious ignored the pretense and focused on what he wanted to say to the ogres. First, he would apologize on behalf of the council. This apology would not violate any ethical boundaries because he had the authority to speak for the council. Second, he would offer tribute to the matriarchs as compensation for their time and energy in traveling to the eastern gate under these circumstances. He would use his personal wealth as the capital. Third, he would request a reprieve of one moon cycle to allow him to gather more information on the fate of the heir, which might prompt the king to recant his accusations, thus staving off war. Given his knowledge of ogre customs, he believed that these three acts would appease the matriarchs’ anger and provide the needed time.

  That afternoon, once he knew his speech was well enough rehearsed, he dressed in his best silken clothes and walked through the eastern gate. The soldiers called for him to stop and return inside, but with his position, they could not force him to do anything. A mile in the distance down the mountain, he could see the ogres’ camps, so he marched steadily towards them. At the gate, which was over 8,000 feet up, the spring snows were still deep and powdery, and the going was slow. As he neared the camps, a platoon of several young ogres blocked his path and ordered him to halt.

  “As a dignitary from the Council of Dorkhun, I request an audience with your matriarchs.”

  “That so?” an ogre asked, patting down the advisor for weapons.

  “I bring news from the capital.”

  “Give us the news, and we’ll see it gets to them.”

  Master Sondious was appalled at the impudence of these ogres. For thousands of years, they had been peaceful allies, and in any dispute, both sides had without fail honored the right of a dignitary to speak to his or her counterpart. When he got in front of the matriarchs, he would voice his displeasure with this rudeness.

  “I repeat my request to speak to your matriarchs. I am from the king’s council.”

  “Hear that? He’s from the council,” the ogre who had patted him down said. His disdain was thick, and Master Sondious’s stomach turned cold.

  “Maybe he’s an important rock-brain,” a second ogre said from behind the advisor.

  “Let’s not insult each other, my friends...”

  “Friends? Is he accusing us of fraternizing with the enemy?” the first ogre asked her companions.

  “I believe so,” a third answered.

  A club struck the back of Master Sondious’s legs, and he collapsed in the snow, blinding pain shooting from his legs up his back.

  “We’re not friends with any treacherous rock-brains,” the first ogre said, standing over him.

  Master Sondious tried to crawl from them, but as he clawed at the snow with his hands, the ogre that had struck him scooped him up and tossed him over her shoulder. The platoon marched back to their lines, and Master Sondious stared in the direction of the eastern gate. His nearsightedness, the result of a lifetime underground with little need to see beyond half a mile, would allow him to make out only a blurred outline of the gate’s fortifications. For the first time he saw that the war was beyond control, beyond reason, a realization that came much too late. He was certain he would never again see home.

  ***

  King Kraganere arrived at the eastern gate with his guards and the first Ghaldeon-armed soldiers a full day after Master Sondious had been taken prisoner. Upon hearing the news, he raced to and burst through the gate, determined to charge down the mountain and attack the ogres himself. Captain Roighwheil tackled him from behind and restrained him till the initial rage wore off. When Kraganere calmed down, the captain led the distraught king back inside, and once they were safe, he kneeled at the feet of the king and spoke:

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

  “Nothing to forgive,” the king answered, sensing the captain’s fear. “You saved me from my rage.”

  “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Stand up, Captain. Tell me what you do mean.”

  Captain Roighwheil told him the entire story of how he had met with Master Sondious and discussed sending the advisor to negotiate with the ogres. The king listened, his face twitching as the rage boiled again. He couldn’t believe that in such a short time, barely two months, so much could unravel around him: his son sold as a slave by his closest allies; the first Kiredurk war in two Kingdoms; betrayal by his best, most trusted warrior; and his friend and closest advisor a prisoner to the enemy. The entirety of it staggered him. He found a stool and sat.

  “Captain Roighwheil, when this war is over, you will appear before the council to answer for your actions.”

  The captain lowered his head in shame, and his head was so low, his beard almost touched the floor.

  “Until then,” Kraganere continued. “Can I count on you? Are you still on my side, or has even that been taken from me?”

  “My king,” the captain said, kneeling back at the king’s feet. “I’ll serve you till my death.”

  “Then, prepare the troops for battle. We have much to do.”

  The captain rose and looked Kraganere in the eyes. The king stared back and, for a moment, saw himself as Master Sondious and Captain Roighwheil must have seen him these last few days. He had let his emotions override the etiquette, logic, and sound judgment a king should follow, and he had accused his allies and neighbors of an outlandish crime based on the secondhand news of one spy. Regardless of what had happened to Roskin, he had brought his kingdom to this point, and he would either lead them through it or fail.

  Oddly enough, he found comfort in the last thought. No one else had been as well-educated and well-trained as he had for governing a nation. He was the tenth king of his line, and each before him had faced his own crisis and had had the strength of character to overcome it. He was one of them, shared their blood and their strength. He could and would face this challenge and lead his kingdom through it.

  With that, he rose from his stool and found Captain Roighwheil, who was organizing the soldiers into stations for defending the gate. The king stood behind his captain and watched the dwarf lead them with confidence and purpose. Kraganere would not hold a grudge against what Roighwheil and Sondious had attempted. Instead, he would probably honor them for serving the kingdom ahead of the king.

  ***

  In the dark of midnight, Master Sondious lay on the snow, both legs broken from the club’s blow. He was well behind the front line but not near the matriarchs, and there was little hope of gaining an audience with them. He was certain they were going to kill him, probably just before the battle began and probably in full view of the gate. The ogres liked to do that to the humans of the Great Empire to diminish morale before a fight.

  He wasn’t saddened by the knowledge, and while he didn’t want to die, he wasn’t scared either. Instead, he was more ashamed at his own poor judgment of the situation. Ogres rarely forgave an indiscretion, and whether or not Roskin had befriended their most hated enemy, the perception was that he had done so. Perception was reality, in most cases
, and Master Sondious had only considered King Kraganere’s accusation as the cause for this war. As it were, he deduced, the ogres were more upset with Roskin and his perceived treachery than the king’s declaration. That action had merely been the last catalyst.

  Master Sondious saw now that he could have done nothing with either side to prevent this war. He found it curious that events were somehow steered to this course, almost as if by some person or some force. Regardless, he would die soon, never to know the outcome of this postulation. His only consolation was that he would die a loyal Kiredurk, for he had used all his skills and energy to protect the kingdom. Even though he had failed, it was not from wont of effort.

  The battle would begin sometime the next day, which meant the ogres would come for him early in the morning. From what he had read about the custom, his death would be slow and would involve many clubs. He had to keep his wits so as not to cry too pitifully during the pain, but he was weakening from lack of food and water. The ogres had offered him nothing, and all he had been able to get for himself was an occasional mouthful of snow.

  Most of the ogres surrounding him were asleep, and the few still awake were preoccupied with readying their weapons and discussing strategies. Through the darkness, Master Sondious saw a figure moving through the camp, but none of the ogres noticed as it darted in and out and around the sleeping platoons. At first, the advisor thought he was hallucinating out of pain or hunger but as the figure neared, he recognized the dwarf and almost called out in joy. He bit down on his lip, enough to draw blood, to stifle any sound as Captain Roighwheil knelt beside him.

  “Can you walk?” the captain mouthed, not actually speaking.

  Master Sondious shook his head and pointed to his crippled legs. Captain Roighwheil didn’t hesitate as he scooped up and laid the frail dwarf on his back across the captain’s shoulders. Master Sondious, knocked nearly unconscious by the explosive pain of his bouncing legs, allowed no sound to escape his lips. The effort took almost more will than he had left. In a moment, the two, burden-bearer and burden, slunk back through the camp. With each step, lightning tore through the advisor’s legs, and he wasn’t sure if he could remain conscious.

  He turned his head to see if anyone was following them and, to his horror, saw about two hundred yards away a group of three ogres staring in his direction and motioning to each other. He turned the other way and saw that he and Roighwheil were clear of the front line, so he whispered that they had been noticed. Roighwheil quickened his pace, but in the deep snow and up the steep incline, each step was an ordeal. With each jostle, nauseating pain raced through Master Sondious’s legs. He looked back and saw that the three ogres were trotting in their direction.

  “Drop me and run, Captain,” Master Sondious said. “Save yourself.”

  “No,” the captain puffed. Each breath he took was deep and arduous.

  One of the ogres called out, and others roused from sleep. In a moment dozens of ogres had joined the chase, which had quickened to a steady run. The distance had closed to less than a hundred yards, and the captain and the advisor were still a quarter of a mile from the gate. As the ogres neared, their shouts and calls grew clearer, and Master Sondious screamed at Roighwheil to save himself. This time the captain didn’t answer.

  The ogres were within twenty yards, and one had hurled its club at them, missing Roighwheil’s back by a couple of feet. They were near the gate but far enough away that Master Sondious knew they would be overtaken by the charging mass. The pain in his legs was nearly unbearable, and part of him hoped that the ogres would kill him quickly to end it.

  The ogres were upon them now. Their ragged breathing from running up the hill sounded wild and brutal to the advisor. He had known ogres his entire life, and not once had he ever thought of them as anything but kind, reasonable people who were – while not as cultured and sophisticated as the Kiredurks – a race that respected law and upheld justice. Now, with a pack of them clamoring to rip him to pieces, he hated them with a fervor he had never known. In this moment, they were crazed animals as far removed from civilized beings as the cave trolls of the wild deep.

  The nearest ogre raised its club to strike the captain’s legs, but before it could swing, an object whistled just over Master Sondious’s head and struck the ogre in the throat. The massive beast stumbled forward a couple of steps and fell in the snow. Suddenly, the air was alive with whistling, and several ogres were hit by crossbow bolts from the archers at the gate. In the next instant, a line of Kiredurks charged down the mountainside and exploded into the stunned ogres with their axes flashing in the moonlight.

  Chapter 5

  Calculating

  Crushaw was almost ready to ride ahead of the army to scout for his ideal terrain, but he had called Molgheon and Leinjar to him to give them last minute instructions. Once he found the place, the army would have to march steadily, without much rest, if they had any hope of getting prepared. His two captains would have to keep the mass organized, and forcing them to march through one and possibly two nights would not be easy. Molgheon had almost as much battlefield experience as he did, but most of it was as a member of an elite squad of archers that would strike a target and then disappear into the wilderness. She had not led many troops before. Leinjar had led scores of Tredjards into battle, but his years of isolation in the leisure slave cage had eroded those skills. Crushaw’s biggest fear was that, without him there to guide it, the army would fall into chaos.

  “We are held by a thin bond,” he said, staring at them with an intensity that made each uncomfortable. “Take the gold we’ve captured and pay them equal amounts. That should keep them loyal until the battle.”

  “Loyalty isn’t an issue,” Leinjar said, scratching his thick beard.

  “I’ve led many battles, and a little gold in a soldier’s pocket goes a long way.”

  “I agree,” Molgheon said. “We’ll start during supper.”

  “When you give them orders, be respectful but firm. If any get lazy, remind them of the orc’s lash. That’s why we really march.”

  “That should do it,” Leinjar agreed, his eyes glossing deep in memory.

  “The oaths they swore are feeble, at best.”

  “Red,” Molgheon said, pointing her thumb in the direction of the camp. “They’ll follow us because we follow you. Stop worrying. It ain’t you.”

  “There’s a lot that has to go right for us to survive this fight. I’ll stop worrying when we cross the Pass of Hard Hope.”

  ***

  Suvene scanned the guards and saw that all of them were enthralled by the drills. The runaway and the ogre were each putting on quite a show, and if he had not been so intent on escaping, he too might have watched them. A dozen slaves encircled the runaway, and at random two at a time would charge him from different directions, a game that reminded Suvene of one he had played as a boy. Without any wasted effort, the runaway would parry their blows and disarm them, which by the apparent rules of the game sent them back to the ring. The little bit that Suvene did watch impressed him. For a rock-brain, the runaway was skilled with a sword, and Suvene wished for an opportunity to draw blades against it.

  The ogre, meanwhile, had another group trying to get her off her feet. She was obviously trying to teach them about leverage, and in her drill the entire dozen would charge her at once. As they would pry at her legs and arms to pull her down, she would squat lower and lower to show them how a solid center of gravity could overcome their force. Suvene was more than a little scared of the ogre and her immense size and strength. As much as he wanted to strike down the phantom, he wanted to avoid her at least that much and probably more.

  But he was not concerned with watching those two dazzle the dim-witted slaves. His only care was reaching the army before the fugitives could slip by the Pass of Hard Hope, so as the drills kept the attention away from the slaves, he began loosening himself from the leather strap. As he had practiced so many times over the last few days, he shed the bi
nding in less than thirty heartbeats and then, without anyone noticing, stepped from the wagon into a thick grove of scrub pines.

  The needles scratched and tore at his skin as he moved through the brush, but he was so focused on putting distance between himself and the camp that he barely noticed. Within a couple hundred yards the grove ended and open, rolling grassland opened before him. He would be completely uncovered for nearly two miles, and if his luck didn’t hold, even a mediocre archer would be able to hit him. Still, he had no other choice. This was his best and last opportunity to warn them. Taking a deep breath, he broke into a full run across the field.

  ***

  Molgheon saw movement behind Crushaw and lost his words as she focused on what she saw. One of the prisoners had gotten away from the camp and was running for the east. Calmly, she took her bow from her shoulder and notched an arrow. Then, aiming to account for its speed and the wind, she prepared to kill it, but just before she released the string, Crushaw grabbed and held her fast.

  “Get off,” she grunted, trying to shake him.

  “Let it go,” he returned, keeping a firm hold.

  “Are you nuts?” Leinjar asked, grabbing at Crushaw’s arms. “It’ll warn others. They’ll know our path.”

  “I’m counting on that,” Crushaw said. “That’s our best chance.”

  “Let go,” Molgheon said, her voice filling with rage. “Let me go, now.”

  “Trust me,” Crushaw said. “I’ve thought this through.”

  Leinjar let go of Crushaw’s arms and backed away, a look of disgust and bemusement on his haggard face. As the orc got out of range, Crushaw released his grasp on Molgheon. She raised her bow as if to fire but, seeing that all hope of hitting the prisoner was gone, lowered it and returned the arrow to her quiver. Then, she turned away from the other two and walked a short distance away, obviously shaking.

  “If that orc doesn’t warn the army and lead it in this direction,” Crushaw said. “We’ll have to face them on their terms. This way, we control when and where, as long as we get to a spot first.”