Tallin looked over his shoulder, feeling the heat from the spreading flames. Duskeye was magnificent. A river of white flame poured from his mouth, burning everything in its path. The fire spread, and soon the entire forest was burning, destroying evidence of the dead soldiers and their cowardly mage with it.
***
Chapter 11: The Necromancer
Thorin and Floki covered Elias with hides and attached the cart to one of the mares. They were ready to leave the city.
“Elias, stay alert,” said Floki. “Save your strength, and use the concealment spell only if we are stopped along the way. I will tap the side of the cart twice once we get to the guardpost. We will be searched at the gate, so make sure you hide yourself once we get there.”
“I will ride ahead and make sure that the necromancer is not at the gate,” Thorin said. “I suspect that it’s resting now. Necromancers tire easily during the day. Their vision and strength is much better at night.”
Elias memorized the concealment spell, but he was still nervous. He couldn’t afford to make a mistake. He heard the stable gate click, and they started to travel towards the city exit. His stomach felt unsettled. He regretted not eating breakfast.
As they rode through the city, Thorin took stock of all the activity. There were fewer merchants on the streets today, and many of the shops were closed. Word travelled fast—people were staying inside because of the necromancer. As they reached the city gate, Thorin and Floki both breathed a sigh of relief. The necromancer was nowhere in sight.
The line to leave the city was long, because all the carts and carriages were being searched. The regular city guards were there, but there were also two empire soldiers. They sat on horseback in leather armor, yellow plumes from their silver helmets glinting in the sunlight.
People chattered in line, although more quietly than usual. The two soldiers watched the activity silently from either side of the gate.
One of the merchants at the front of the line started arguing with one of the guards. “Hurry up, ye daft fools! I’ll never make it to Faerroe by tomorrow if ye keep harrassin’ me horses and me goods!”
“Be patient. We’ll be done soon enough, old man,” said the guard, who continued to look through all the merchant’s bags.
The merchant complained louder. “This is outrageous! What in blazes are ye lookin’ fer? I don’t have nothin’ ye need!” he shouted again.
One of the soldiers frowned. He’d heard enough. The old man was turned away from the soldier, who drew his sword. The crowd gasped. The soldier smacked the merchant in the back of the head with the flat of his sword, and the man went down, face first into the mud.
“Confiscate his goods and take him away. We do not have the patience for this,” said the soldier. Then he addressed the line, “Does anyone else have any… grievances? Anyone?”
The people fell silent and looked away.
“Good,” said the soldier, sheathing his sword. “We can move a lot faster if everyone cooperates. If not, then you’ll get the same treatment as our ill-tempered old friend.” A city guardsman dragged the unconscious merchant out of the way, and his donkey cart was moved off to the side.
Thorin looked at Floki, but said nothing. It took another miserable hour, standing in drizzle, to get up to the gate. One of the regular guards recognized Floki. “Aye, Floki, where are you goin’?”
“I’m going to Gardarsholm, to meet another merchant. He wants to purchase some of my premium leathers. That’s what I have in the cart.” Floki tapped the cart twice, and Elias said the cloaking spell quietly.
“Alright, then. I need to search the cart before you leave.”
Floki lifted the tarp covering the hides, and the soldiers nodded in silent approval. They saw nothing but hides. Floki smiled, replaced the tarp, and dug his heels into his horse. The horse started trotting towards the gate. They were almost through when he heard a shriek, like the sound of breaking glass.
“Ssssstop!” screeched a cloaked figure, as it glided down from the watchtower. The necromancer! She had been watching from above all along.
Long black hair spilled out from underneath her hood. Her skin was alabaster white, but her lips were very red. She reached out and grabbed Floki’s chin. “Sssssssso… what do we have here? A dwarf half-ling, eh?” her voice rasped.
Floki stiffened, but he stood his ground. “Yes. I am.” He jerked his chin out of her grip, and touched the dagger strapped to his belt. The necromancer laughed, revealing two rows of red, sharpened teeth.
“Ssssss… What are you planning to do with that little knife of yours, hmmmm? Do you plan to fight me, half-brrrreed?” Then she turned to Thorin, who was a few people behind in line. “And how about you, old dwarf? Did you think that I didn’t see you, ssssticking out like a sssssore thumb?”
Thorin just stared calmly. His face betrayed no emotion. “A good day to you, dark one.”
The necromancer snorted in reply, turning her attention back to Floki. She lifted the tarp up again, and sniffed inside. Nothing was visible except the hides. The necromancer paused, and sniffed again. Floki held his breath. His hand tightened around the dagger.
She closed her black eyes and backed away. “You may leave, half-ling. Take your cart of leathers.” Then she looked squarely at Thorin. “You! Old dwarf… get out. Don’t let me catch you back insssside this city… or I’ll gut you… from nose to navel.”
Thorin bowed slightly and trotted away on Duster, humming quietly as usual. He joined Floki on the road, but they did not speak until they were a league from the city.
“Floki, take a breath. Have you been holdin’ it in the whole time?” Thorin chuckled.
Floki exhaled deeply and said, “By Baghra! That necromancer scared me nearly to death! I felt its breath on me and it was freezing cold. That thing isn’t even human!”
“You’re right. It isn’t. There’s no reason to be afraid of something that you can’t control. She was either going to kill us, or she was going to let us go. Lucky for us, she decided to let us go.”
“Is it okay for me to come out yet?” said Elias, muffled underneath the tarp. “It’s hot under here!”
Thorin replied without turning around. “Not yet, boy. It’s too dangerous. I can still see the city behind us. Just be patient. We’ll be in Darkmouth Forest soon enough, and then you can come out. Keep up the spell as long as you can, just in case.”
“Okay,” Elias said.
They travelled another hour before stopping by a small creek. The horses were allowed to drink, and Thorin dismounted.
“Come on out boy,” said Thorin, pulling back the tarp. “We’re going to pause here for a moment, and then we’ll continue on our way.”
The air shimmered, and Elias appeared, exhaling loudly. “Finally! I didn’t know how much longer I could hold that spell. I felt fine this morning, but holding it steady for so long drained my energy.”
“Cloaking spells are difficult to maintain, even simple ones like yours,” said Thorin. “The more you practice, the easier it will become. Keep training, because it’s likely that ye will have to use it again.”
“How do you know so much about magic, Thorin?” asked Elias.
“Boy, I’m much older than I look. I’ve seen plenty of wars in my day, and there’s another one comin’, ye can be sure of that. Best be prepared, I say.” Thorin smiled and started humming again. Elias was speechless. Nothing seemed to faze him.
“Floki, are you going to travel with us any farther?” asked Elias.
“No. I’m going to wait here and see if there’s anyone I know returning to the city. I might get lucky and get a message to my family without having to return. If that deadrat is still at the gate, I’ll probably be arrested if I try to reenter. But either way, I must fetch my family. It’s not safe for any of us to remain here,” said Floki. “Thorin, I’ve decided to go back to Mount Velik. It’s best for all of us.”
“I’m sorry, old friend,” said Thorin, placin
g his hand on Floki’s shoulder. “I know it was a hard decision for you. I’ll be expectin’ you soon at Mount Velik, cousin. When you arrive, we’ll have a feast waitin’ for you. May the gods protect you and your family on the journey.”
Floki clasped Thorin’s hand. They were silent for a moment. Elias turned away; he felt partly responsible for the predicament that Floki was in.
Floki walked over to his horse, a pretty chestnut mare. “Take care of Buttercup, boy. She’s yours now. She’s a fine horse and as good natured as any I’ve ever owned.”
“I will… I promise,” said Elias quietly.
“And listen to Thorin. If anyone can get you out of the trouble you’re in, it’s him. Take a few hides from the cart; they’ll come in handy while you’re travelling. Good luck to you both. Now go, before it’s too late. You should try to be as far away from Jutland as possible by nightfall.”
Thorin unhooked the cart from Buttercup’s saddle, and Elias mounted the mare. Together, Thorin and Elias left the clearing. Elias turned back around. He saw Floki sitting on the cart, shoulders hunched, with his head in his hands. What if Floki’s family was killed because of him? Elias turned back around, sighing heavily.
“Don’t be blamin’ yourself, lad. Everything will be alright in time. Just have a wee bit of faith,” Thorin said, staring straight ahead. “Why don’t you pull that spell book of yours? Practicin’ those spells is going be more helpful than cryin’.”
Elias wiped his nose with his tunic sleeve. Thorin was right. There was no point in getting upset now. He had to be strong. He owed it to his grandmother, and he owed it to Thorin. He pulled the little journal out of his pack and started reading.
“That’s a clever lad,” said Thorin, smiling. “We’ve got a few days of travel before we’re out of this forest, so you may as well learn somethin’ useful along the way.” A few minutes later, Thorin started to hum quietly. Elias smiled. Thorin’s positive attitude was infectious. They rode on at a steady pace, keeping off the main path.
Elias flipped to the map in his grandmother’s journal. They were travelling east. If they travelled fast, they might make it Faerroe by tomorrow evening. From there, it was at least five days by horseback to reach Orvasse River.
That’s if they made it out of Faerroe alive.
***
Chapter 11: Mitca’s Bad News
Back in Parthos, Sela paced nervously in the corridor, waiting for King Mitca to arrive. A few moments later, one of the king’s guards popped his head through the thick curtains outside the chamber.
“Mistress Sela, you may enter.”
“Thank you,” she replied. She handed the guard her dagger and short sword. Even the dragon riders were prohibited from wearing their weapons in the king’s throne room.
“Sela, thank you for coming to speak with me in private,” said the king. “Please sit.”
Sela took a seat at the table, and the king stepped down to join her. There was a bowl of fruit on the table, and she picked absently at some grapes. Her heart pounded with emotion. Even though years had passed since they were lovers, it still made her uncomfortable to be alone with the king.
The other dragon riders didn’t know that Sela and Mitca were past lovers, although Tallin suspected something, and told her as much. Sela denied the relationship, but her face betrayed her true emotions. It was impossible to keep anything secret from Tallin. He seemed to know everything about everyone.
“Sela, this is not a social call,” said Mitca.
“I know,” Sela replied. “I am reading the reports from all over Durn. The news is discouraging. Even the dwarves are preparing for battle.”
“How goes the training?” asked Mitca.
“Not very well. Riona and Stormshard are too headstrong. Hanko and Charlight are skittish, and Tallin and Duskeye are uncontrollable. Karela and Orshek may never be ready to take a rider. Their training goes slowly. It’s… disheartening.”
“Then you must work harder. Accelerate their training. All of the riders have to be ready for war, and time is a luxury we can no longer afford. The emperor’s armies are gathering in the east. Parthos is no longer safe. I lost six of my best soldiers last week to a Balborite assassin.”
“Another one? That’s the second one this year,” said Sela.
“Actually, it was the third. You and Brinsop killed one, and Tallin and Duskeye found another travelling alone in the desert. This most recent attack actually reached the city gates. Three of my guards fell instantly, and two others were stabbed with daggers laced with kudu oil. One of my captains managed to remove the dagger in his arm and stab the assassin. Only minutes later, they both died in convulsions from the poison. Neither wound would have been fatal otherwise.”
“How come I did not hear of these other attacks?” Sela pounded her fist on the table. “It’s my job to keep the city safe!”
“A king must keep his own counsel. I did not anyone to panic. I do not presume to be told how to do my job, even by a dragon rider.”
Sela hung her head, chastised. “My lord—how can I prepare for future attacks if I am not allowed to study the enemy?”
“All of the assassins were killed. You know that a Balborite can never be taken alive. Tallin and Duskeye captured the one they found, but he was dead before they returned to the city. The assassin committed suicide, along the way, without using any weapons.”
“Did the assassin poison himself?”
“Duskeye carried the body back to the palace so we could examine it. My surgeon performed an autopsy.”
“What did you discover at autopsy?”
“The assassin’s flesh is marked everywhere with magical tattoos. Wherever there was a tattoo on the skin, the surgeon’s knife would not enter the flesh. Tallin had to intervene. He cast a spell to pierce it. When the doctor opened the assassin’s chest, we saw that the heart had burst. It was shattered within his chest. And directly above it was a black stone, implanted near the sternum.”
“A runestone!”
“Yes, it was a runestone, enchanted with black magic. I had never seen one up close. Tallin told me not to touch it, because the enchantment could still be active. We were able to make the runes visible, but neither Duskeye nor Tallin could decipher the spell. The stone bore an inscription in the Balborite language. That is all that we know. It is unlikely we will ever take any of the Balborite mercenaries alive—they cannot risk anyone deciphering their secrets.”
“The runestone blew a hole in the assassin’s chest?”
“Yes. As long as the assassins are conscious and able to speak, they will be able to kill themselves to evade capture. I had the ashes of the other assassin examined, and we found an identical runestone in the remains.”
“How about if we use a sleeping spell, or a paralyzing agent? If the assassin cannot talk, then he cannot voice the enchantment. We could capture him alive.”
“Yes, it’s possible that would work—but to what end? How are we going to question him? As soon as we grant him the ability to speak, he will use the spell to activate the runestone.”
Sela sighed. “You have a point. Do you feel like the danger has escalated?”
“Yes, definitely. My scouts have returned with grim news from all across Durn. The emperor has started conscripting youths for his army, and he is using outside mercenaries.”
“This is old news. The emperor has been assembling troops for over a year. What has changed?”
“It’s not what you think. The mercenaries are orcs.”
Sela gasped. “Orcs? The emperor is using orcs? That’s absurd! Orcs eat humans!”
“Yes, I know. Presumably, the emperor signed a treaty with the orc leader, King Nar, last winter. The orcs have been growing their number for years. Their main outpost is in the northwestern part of Durn, in the caves of Mount Heldeofol. King Nar has been waiting for years to get his revenge against the dwarves. Presumably, the emperor has offered Mount Velik as spoils of war if the orcs help him.”
/>
“Even the emperor’s army will refuse to fight alongside those monsters.”
“They won’t have to. Look at their positions.” Mitca pointed to a large map on the wall. “The emperor plans to flank our city and attack us from the north and the east. It is also likely that he will hire mercenaries from Balbor to attack us from the west. The emperor wants Parthos destroyed at all costs.”
“But why now?”
“The prophesy. Once I received the note about the dragon stone, I knew that things had gotten serious. The emperor knows that we are harboring dragon riders. He wants to make sure all of them are killed, even if it means he has to work with orcs in order to do it. He has entered into this unholy alliance as a last resort.”
Sela sighed. This was truly alarming news. “Mitca, if orcs capture this city, everyone will die. The greenskins will slaughter every man, woman and child.”
“I know. That’s why we have to make sure it doesn’t happen. I have already sent a messenger to the dwarf king, Hergung. We’ve had a strained relationship until now, but we have little choice but to work together. He has already responded in the affirmative.”
“What are your orders?”
“Brief the other dragon riders, but do not tell anyone else. You have one month to finish their training. After that, I will be sending each of you out to collect information and perform certain... tasks. Orshek and Karela will stay behind to guard the city.”
“Orshek and Karela? But they are too young—and who will communicate with them?” asked Sela.
“One of the palace mages, Alboline, can speak some dragon tongue. She will train alongside them so she can practice. The dragon riders are my best defense inside the Death Sands, but I can’t afford to keep you here any longer. You have to go out and collect information. No one else can travel as fast or as far.”
“How about the elves?”
“The elves care little about human suffering. They live out their immortal lives in enchanted cities, and that is where they shall remain. They did not come to our aid during the Orc Wars. Why would they intervene now?”
Dragon Stones (Book One in the Dragon Stone Saga) Page 10
