Return of the Dragon (The Dragon's Champion Book 6)

by Ferguson, Sam

  Lepkin shook his head. “We scorched the forest the old fashioned way.”

  Al’s face turned sour. “I see.”

  “It was the only way to seal off our retreat. We were being pursued constantly.”

  Al raised a hand. “I understand. I am not new to the devices of war. I just don’t like seeing trees go to waste.”

  “Ironic, for a dwarf who spends his life underground,” Lepkin replied with a half-smile.

  “Except this dwarf didn’t spend his life in the dark,” Al reminded him. “I ran a blacksmith shop, in Buktah. That’s all I wanted out of life, and I lived it well.” His eyes lost their focus and his face grew long and sad. “I guess there isn’t any use thinking about going back there now.”

  “I suppose not,” Lepkin said.

  “My apprentice died defending us,” Al put in. “The Blacktongues found me and the boy, back when he was stuck in your body.”

  Lepkin nodded. Al had already mentioned that shortly after Lepkin had woken from his coma, but Lepkin didn’t stop the dwarf from talking about it now.

  “He was a good lad,” Al said. A half smile flashed across his face. “A good man, I mean,” he corrected. He slapped a hand to his face and leaned back into the sofa. “It’s the quiet ones who surprise us the most, I think. No one would have called him a warrior by any means. He was a blacksmith. He had never known anything other than that his whole life. He was good at it too. He could have made a great smith. Still, never would have dreamed he would be the one to come out fighting against the Blacktongues.” Water welled up in his eyes and he turned away from Lepkin.

  “I’m sorry,” Lepkin said.

  Al nodded and wiped the tears from his face. “Me too,” he said. “War is an ugly game, isn’t it? It wasn’t bad enough that we were fighting off warlocks who wanted to make us slaves, but now we have orcs trying to kick in our doors and take everything from us.”

  “They see it as their home,” Lepkin said. “At least, that is what I choose to believe. Otherwise they are just monsters, blinded by their lust for blood and conquest.”

  Al shook a finger at Lepkin. “That is all they are! They didn’t live here first, the dwarves did. They came and ruined everything. They stole what they could and killed whatever crossed their path. They aren’t retaking their homeland, which is thousands of miles away on a continent covered in darkness. They should all go out to the sea and jump in, do us all a favor.”

  Lepkin nodded. “Well, I don’t think we are going to be so lucky.”

  Al slapped his left hand to his knee and then pointed at the map. “And that is why I have taken a look at the map. I plan on sending those dogs down to Hammenfein as soon as they arrive here. They want to rule in Hell, and I am happy to send them there.”

  Lepkin rose and moved to the map. “I assume you saw the positions I had marked already?”

  Al nodded, but he didn’t get up. He didn’t need to. He had memorized the map in its entirety. “I am sure your messenger told you, but I have a number of spears we can put at a few locations. There is a narrow spot in the chasm if you look about two miles east of the axis due south from Stonebrook. We could assign some there.”

  “I have a catapult there, so they can help defend it,” Lepkin said.

  “Yes, I noted. But why only ten?” Al asked.

  “I wasn’t sure when, or if, we would have support.”

  Al grumbled something about tall-folk that Lepkin couldn’t quite hear before jumping off the sofa and coming over to the map. “We can divert some of the recruits we brought. I assume you have assigned dwarves to mine the stone?”

  Lepkin nodded.

  “And then what, have you tasked them with building carts to carry the stone for the catapults?”

  Again, Lepkin nodded.

  Al grumbled. “Thought you would.” He jabbed a finger in Lepkin’s side and then seized the pencil from the table. “Don’t waste dwarves driving carts that any fool with two hands could do. Reassign the dwarves to create more catapults. I’ll mark the best locations here, here, and here. Place two more in each of those three spots. Then, place one catapult here, here, and another here and here.” Al stepped back and smiled. “There, I just doubled our fire power, and they are placed at the most advantageous positions. I’d like to see the orcs bring their bows within range to cover any of their footmen. It will be a slaughterhouse filled with orcish brutes!”

  Lepkin smiled and held up a finger. “For the first skirmish, we want to bring them in close,” he said.

  Al screwed up his face and shook his head. “No we don’t. We want to send them running as fast as possible.”

  “Hear me out,” Lepkin implored. “We are in the process of designing camouflage for the catapults. We don’t have the time to completely disguise them, but enough that we can lure the orcs in just close enough that running away will be difficult. The last thing I want them to do is spot our catapults from afar and skirt around the brook and come at us from behind.”

  Al shook his head again. “No, the worst thing would be if they bypassed us altogether.”

  “They need food,” Lepkin said. “Winter is coming on soon and they will want to raid what they can in order to dig in. They will not want to fall back.”

  “Unless they dig in at Ten Forts,” Al said.

  “It’s possible, but if they do that, then we can dig in here as well. The more time we have, the better off we will be.”

  Al growled. “And they know that too,” he put in. “So they will come soon.”

  Lepkin gestured to the forest marked on the map. “I would wager that as soon as the forest is calm again, they will come north.”

  “Well then, I suppose it is time for me to find a pickaxe,” Al said. “I should help my kin.”

  Lepkin placed a strong hand on Al’s shoulder. “Do we have good men with us?” he asked.

  Al nodded. “Commander Nials appears to understand what is going on here. He was reluctant at first, but he agreed to come here even though it disobeyed orders. He sent a messenger to Drakei Glazei of course, but he could still lose his job over this.”

  Lepkin shook his head. “King Mathias will see the wisdom in it. You can’t ignore an invasion by the orcs. To do so is to commit suicide.”

  “The officers appear solid as well,” Al put in. “I made an effort to study them on the march down here. I think we have as good of men as we could hope for.” He smiled again and then pulled away. “I will rejoin with my kin and get the new catapults underway. You should go back to sleep. I’ll tell Commander Nials to wait until tomorrow to call upon you.”

  Lepkin shook his head. “That wouldn’t be right. Send him in at his earliest convenience. He has brought reinforcements, after all.”

  Al smiled the sly grin of his. “I know, I just thought it would be funny to see the look on his face, that’s all. I’ll send him in.”

  *****

  Lady Arkyn sat in the tall, yellow grasses fifty yards north of the scorched earth and the burnt skeletons of the once mighty forest. The wind flew toward the northeast, bringing with it the smell of ash, and the unyielding heat from the stubborn embers and fires that still burned. In the last day, the smoke had thinned. Where before it was a black, dense wall of billowing heat and death, now there was only a gray haze along the ground highlighted by red and orange undertones. Ash and bits of burning wood flew up into the air only to fall several yards away from the forest. Every now and again a small fire would ignite in the grasses nearby. She didn’t let it bother her, though. She had enough magic to cool the area around her and keep her spot unharmed.

  Her eyes scoured the smoke and heat waves, looking for any sign of forward scouts. Most of the animals had already fled from the forest long ago when the blaze first began, but occasionally she still saw the odd hare or deer making its way out of the forest, or crossing from east to west in front of her. She marveled that even when they did come straight from the forest, they had no significant wounds upon their
bodies. Singed fur and small blights, to be sure, but nothing severe. It was as if the animals had found places of refuge inside the blaze instinctively. Or, perhaps they had a magic all of their own. She liked to think that they did. It seemed to balance the laws of nature in her mind if she thought of animals that way, instead of simply as creatures of instinct and habit.

  A long stem bent low in the wind and tickled her face. She pushed it away gently and then raised a bit of bread to her mouth and took a bite. She chewed the dry, stale morsel and then put the rest back into a small satchel that hung from her belt.

  She sat there until well after sunset. Darkness fell over the land like a blanket, but it could not smother the lights from the fires. The orange and red spots played out their dance as the haze and smoke above blotted out the stars. Still she watched.

  Nothing happened until shortly before dawn. It was faint at first, a movement that could have been nothing more than the shifting wind blowing a wisp of smoke between the burnt trunks in the forest. Her gut twisted with that primal fear and anger that only comes before a fight. She stroked a left hand over her bow. She was far south of the chasm and the brook, so waiting a bit would not endanger anyone else. So she let the stranger come closer.

  A few minutes later she spied a second scout. She smiled. Orcs always worked in pairs when scouting, she knew. Now that she had found the second, she would be able to engage at will. An arrow flew and the second orc caught it in the eye. His body fell instantly, throwing ash and embers out around him. The first orc turned to run, but an arrow through the back of his left knee dropped him to the ground.

  Lady Arkyn was up in a moment and sprinting across the blackened ground. She leapt atop the first orc and slammed her right elbow into the back of the orc’s neck. A second blow with the handle of her dagger put the orc out cold. She seized the orc’s sword and tossed it aside. She undid the orc’s leather belt and then looped it around his elbows behind his back as tightly as possible. The orc’s greenish skin stretched and turned white against the belt.

  The she-elf moved along to the second orc. Her arrow was too far embedded into the orc’s skull to be successfully removed. She reached under the corpse’s armpits and dragged it to a pile of lumber that was still burning and then threw him into it. Any who found him would be left to assume he tripped into a fire. Unsatisfied with how the body looked haphazardly cast into the fire, she went to the nearest burnt tree and pushed it over on top. Now it looked like a burning tree had fallen onto him. That was better.

  She went back to the first orc and slapped his cheeks.

  The orc groaned.

  She rolled him over with a push of her foot.

  “How many orcs are with you?” Lady Arkyn asked.

  The orc glared at her with burning eyes. “Foggd be!” the orc shouted.

  Lady Arkyn reached down and ripped the arrow from the orc’s knee. The orc grunted, but he did not overtly show his pain nor cry out. “How many orcs are there?” she pressed.

  “Foggd be!”

  Lady Arkyn sighed impatiently and pulled her dagger. She knelt down and placed the blade against the orc’s neck. “Last chance,” she said.

  “Csinalja!” the orc shouted.

  It was useless. Either the orc couldn’t speak Common Tongue, or he was far too proud to fear for his life. Lady Arkyn ended the interrogation and then dragged his body to a ditch some three hundred yards away. She dropped the orc’s body down atop seven other orc corpses.

  “Stubborn pigs,” she spat as she looked down upon all her other failed attempts to interrogate the forward scouts. She knew that soon the orcs would cease sending scouts. Soon they would march north in force. Until then, she was going to go back and sit in her spot in the grass.

  *****

  “Why don’t they fight back?” Maernok asked as he swirled the ale inside his pewter mug.

  Salarion pulled her left boot free of her foot and dumped the pesky pebble that had been bothering her onto the wooden floor. “They are afraid,” she explained.

  “Afraid?” Maernok echoed sarcastically. “I count seven men in the street right now and only two of the governor’s soldiers. They should fight and keep their children safe rather than let them be taken to be sacrificed.”

  Maernok watched as yet another teenage daughter was loaded into a cart. Her hands were bound with leather strips. One guard moved to the front of the horse-drawn cart while the second secured the newest prisoner to the cart via a chain. “An orc would never be paralyzed by fear.”

  “Pinkt’Hu has been losing people for weeks now,” Salarion stated dryly. “It was quiet at first. Then the governor moved on to accusing people of false crimes. Soon the ruse was abandoned altogether. Now, anyone who fights back is killed in the streets, their body either left to rot or hung from the nearest balcony for all to see.”

  “If they cannot fight, they should leave,” Maernok said simply.

  Salarion laughed and slid her boot back onto her foot. “Some have. Most can’t. The Middle Kingdom was at war before the orcs came to Ten Forts. There aren’t any cities that are unaffected by it. The lone traveler is doomed to certain death. Those who had money purchased their way out with merchant ships, but the rest are here, trying to keep their heads low and their children hidden.”

  “There is no honor to be found among them.”

  Salarion stood and moved to the window. “That is not entirely true,” she said. “Would a wolf assume that a fish is without honor because it does not fight the bear?”

  Maernok cast a glare at her. “Weak as the humans might be, they are not fish.”

  “Fear is a powerful oppressor,” Salarion said. “Some are brave and fight back, but humans are easier to frighten than embolden. They are oppressed by shackles they place upon their own minds and hearts.”

  “And that is why they have no honor.”

  Salarion sighed. She turned to say something but Maernok cut her off.

  “Orcs are born cursed. Before a baby orc takes its first breath, it is predestined to spend an eternity in the flames of Hammenfein. Such is our fate as assigned by the Old Gods of the humans. Yet, despite this, we fight. We raise our young to embrace honor and glory.”

  “That is because you are beyond hope,” Salarion said. “And that is your blessing, not your curse. For the humans still hold on to hope, and it is that hope that strengthens their fear and holds them down. They know they should have hope, so when it is taken from them they are paralyzed, afraid of losing it entirely.”

  Maernok finished his ale and set the mug down upon the windowsill. “Then why not kill the governor and disrupt Gilifan’s dastardly deeds here?”

  Salarion nodded. “I have thought of the same thing, but it would not work just yet. We must wait until Tu’luh is bound to the new dragon.”

  “Why?” Maernok asked.

  “While Tu’luh is a spirit, he will be able to sense our presence if we get too close. If we were to assassinate the governor, Gilifan would likely send Tu’luh out to find us. Better to wait.”

  “We will watch while people are led to slaughter?”

  “What difference does it make to you? They are only humans, as you put it.”

  Maernok shook his head. “I only warred with the humans in order to earn the right to kill Gilifan. I see no honor in merciless killing. These people have not the strength to raise up swords in their own defense.”

  “An orc with a conscience?” Salarion teased. She moved to sit upon the bed. “How interesting.”

  Maernok eyed her from head to toe and then went to sit by the table in the room. “When Tu’luh is joined with the new egg, what is the plan?”

  “What do you know of Nagar’s Secret?” Salarion asked.

  Maernok shrugged. “Never heard of it.”

  Salarion sighed and curled her legs up under her slender body. “To make it simple, it is a spell created by my father and Tu’luh. It is designed to bind the hearts and souls of every living creature so that
they can be controlled. This is the power that Gilifan seeks. No one is immune to the spell.”

  “Then we should strike before he can use it,” Maernok said quickly. “Even if Tu’luh’s spirit is watching, if both of us go in then one of us can get to the wizard before it is too late.”

  Salarion shook her head. “It isn’t that simple,” she said. “To infiltrate the underground fortress I will need to use powerful magic to disguise us both. Using my magic will draw his attention. The only way is to wait until Tu’luh has been rejoined with the new hatchling. As for Gilifan, he will sense me when I approach, even if I use a disguise. He put a marker upon me the last time we met.”

  “If you already met with him, why didn’t you kill him?”

  “It’s complicated,” Salarion started. “But, I need Gilifan to use the spell in order for Nagar’s Secret to be destroyed.”

  “You would let him enslave everyone?”

  Salarion shook her head emphatically. “I altered the spell in a way that he will not detect. It will affect the spell’s range and limit it to just a few square miles from wherever the magic is used. Then, after the first use, its range will diminish to only twenty or thirty yards.”

  “How could you do such a thing without him noticing?”

  Salarion sneered slyly. “I am a dark elf, and the book is written in my language. I altered a couple of words, and that is all it takes. Then, once he uses it and it is discovered that the range has been limited, he will have no choice but to transfer the power to some sort of object like a staff or an amulet.”

  “So instead of being able to hide with the book in a far off mountain, you would force him to come out with the magic, thereby giving the humans a chance to take the amulet or staff and destroy it.”

  “Precisely,” Salarion confirmed. “Otherwise the whole of the Middle Kingdom, the Eastern Wilds, and the orcish lands would be enslaved within the blink of an eye. I did something similar when my father first used the spell some centuries ago, but I did not hamper it enough. He was still able to use it from a great distance, and many battles were fought before the book was finally taken away from him.”