My Father's Swords (Warriors, Heroes, and Demons Book 1)

by Dave Skinner

  “Yes, I made breakfast.” Adamtay watched his friend struggle out of his bedding and stagger to the fire. Nailmoe was right. He had been driving them hard for the last three days. They could afford a good meal this morning. After all, they would need their strength today. They had arrived. “Eat hardy, my friend. I am going outside to check the trail.”

  The cave they had sheltered in was located at the foot of the mountain where the caveworm made its home. The cavern was large in the sense that the horses, all six of them, could share it with the two men without crowding. It was round in shape, with a high ceiling, and a dry sand floor. It was as deep as it was high and had only one egress. A point he had checked carefully the night before. They did not want a caveworm sliding out of the black depth of the cave while they slept.

  Before he reached the opening to the outside he pulled up the hood of his cloak and jammed his hands into his gloves. They had both been living in their scaled dayskin as they travelled, even at night—this was a wild section of the country, there was no point in taking unnecessary risks. Facing a caveworm would be challenging enough.

  “We will leave the chargers and food packs in this cave,” he told Nailmoe when he returned. His friend had finished eating, and was scouring the pots and dishes with sand before packing them away.

  “We have arrived then?”

  “Yes. The trail up is steep, but not dangerous. One pack animal should be enough to carry the pikes, shields, and bows. I suggest the small pack horse because there are a number of sharp turns.”

  “The obstinate one? It might be better to carry our own weapons. It will be a struggle to get him up the mountain side.”

  “At least he will stay put while we are in the cave. Not likely to wander off.”

  “Just lazy if you ask me.”

  “I will wear my sword,” Adamtay said.

  “Good idea,” Nailmoe agreed as he set off to unpack their weapons. “How large do you think this worm will be? I didn’t get a good picture from your uncle about what to expect.”

  “Neither did I. Truthfully, I do not believe he knows. The books he referenced were ancient. Supposedly, it is a young dragon or a larval form of a dragon,” Adamtay answered as he saddled the pack beast.

  “How can it be a young dragon if dragons disappeared ages ago? They have been gone for so long that even the illustrious Court Wizard has forgotten them, and your uncle does not forget much. He certainly has not forgotten that little fling I had with his daughter.”

  “I doubt he ever will, my friend, unless you marry her.” While Nailmoe coughed and choked, Adamtay continued. “My niece is very personable when you get to know her. One night might not have been enough time for you two to get properly acquainted.”

  “I got to know her just fine, thank you. She is a typical courtesan—vain, narrow-minded, and shallow. Sometimes I think you got the only interesting woman around.” For a moment silence roared in the cave. “I am sorry, Adamtay, that was insensitive of me. We will get her back. I am sure of that.”

  The anguish Adamtay had felt after Mearisdeana was torn from him had diminished over the past few days, but he now felt it again as strong as ever. Pushing the pain down he attempted a smile which may have looked more like a snarl. “Yes, we will get her back,” he said. “Ready?”

  Nailmoe finished buckling on his sword belt and settling it on his hips. Grabbing the lead of the pack horse he responded, “Ready.”

  The trail turned out to be too narrow and switch-backed to allow the pikes to be carried by the pack animal, so they ended up each carrying one and using it as a staff. They were both leaning heavily on them by the time they reached the cave at the head of the trail.

  They rested and ate some bread and cheese. Nailmoe unloaded the shields and the large crossbow. Leaving the pack animal tethered to a rock, they entered the abode of the caveworm. Each carried a pike. Nailmoe carried the crossbow. Adamtay carried a lit torch, with a reserve of three hanging from his belt. They both had shields strapped to their backs.

  “Maybe we should make some noise,” Nailmoe whispered as they lit the second torch from the dying remains of the first. They had crept silently on and on for a good while. The cave had turned out to be straight without any openings to either side. It did not appear to be natural.

  “Additional noise is not necessary,” boomed a deep voice from up ahead. “I have heard you since you entered, and if that was not enough the stench of your fear precedes you. Come forward.”

  The last was a command which neither Adamtay nor Nailmoe could disregard. Like marionettes dancing on the puppeteer’s strings they were dragged forward. Within a few reluctant steps they could make out light ahead which soon overpowered the glow from their torch. They entered a large chamber ablaze in an unnatural glow, in the centre of which sat a dragon.

  “So much for the young dragon idea,” Nailmoe observed.

  “Young? I have not been young for a thousand years. My youth has been drained from me while I sit chained to these accursed walls, and now the first visitors I have seen in eons come carrying weapons. Are you here to kill me, or have you been sent by the wizard as a snack to appease my hunger? I must admit I could use a snack after all this time.”

  “We have come for the Sword of Sacrifice,” Adamtay found himself admitting.

  “The weapons are for protection only,” Nailmoe informed the beast.

  Adamtay was wondering how Nailmoe could manage to lie like that to the dragon’s snout. Natural ability he supposed. Regardless, it did spark an idea.

  “We would gladly put them down if you would agree to not attack us. As my friend has said, we had no idea what we would find in the cave, so we took precautions. You appear to be an intelligent being of character. Perhaps we can discuss our options.”

  Now that the initial shock of seeing a dragon had passed, Adamtay was calculating possibilities as he spoke. The dragon had not evidenced any fire-breathing capabilities … so far. Perhaps that ability was a myth. The beast was attached to the walls on either side of the chamber by chains that ended at a large metal collar that encircled its neck. The chains appeared to have enough slack for the dragon to move around somewhat, but not enough to allow it to reach Nailmoe and himself where they were currently standing.

  From paintings and pictures he had seen, Adamtay had expected a majestic beast with shining multicoloured scales and a noble, although elongated countenance. Instead, the scales were dull and lusterless. Where the metal collar encircled the long neck, they were abraded and appeared raw in places. Large bat-like wings were folded onto its back. The beast’s face was impressive with a long snout, sharp hand-length teeth, and eyes that were hypnotic. Adamtay forced his vision away from the eyes.

  “The Sword of Sacrifice is what you want, is it? Then we have a problem because I am its guardian. A mighty wizard placed me here to stop anyone from obtaining the Sword.” The dragon turned its head to look at the black depth behind it. “The blasted Sword is back there. I can sense its magic. It is like a constant itch that I cannot reach, the most irritating of the many that I am cursed with.”

  With its head turned, the damage the collar was inflicting on the neck was clearly evident. Scales had been worn away leaving only the tender under-skin. Weeping sores and half healed scabs could be seen.

  “Why do you guard the Sword?” Nailmoe asked.

  “It gives my existence purpose. As you can see, I am a captive here. I have been here for more centuries than I care to count. Without the Sword to guard, my life would have no meaning. I would simply be a prisoner, without intent, and if I was here for no reason, I would go mad.

  Adamtay glanced at Nailmoe. He believed they were both thinking the same thought. Despite its purpose the dragon was already mad. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing he did not know, but he was about to find out.

  “What would you do if you were free?” Adamtay asked.

  “I would leave this accursed dim
ension. I would find a world of my own and never think of this place again. But what you ask is impossible. These chains contain magic. Your feeble weapons could never free me.”

  “But the Sword of Sacrifice could.”

  The dragon’s eye ridges rose as he considered Adamtay intensely. “That is a possibility. After all, the wizard put it here for just that reason. It could be used to gain entrance to something he did not want opened. What are you proposing?”

  “If you let me pass, I will obtain the Sword and use it to free you.”

  “And I should trust you why?”

  “Because I also have to trust you,” Adamtay replied.

  The dragon crossed its front feet and lowered its head until it rested on them. It reminded Adamtay of a cat watching a mouse.

  “Explain to me exactly what you will do, in detail, leave nothing out,” the beast finally demanded.

  Adamtay indicated the left side of the chamber. “I will walk down this side—”

  “You will leave your shield and weapons where you now stand and—”

  “Yes, I will leave my shield and weapons here and proceed past you along this wall. I will obtain the sword and return here before I approach you. I will figure out—”

  “We will figure out.”

  “Of course, we will figure out the best way to remove the chains and collar. I will do that and then we will go our separate ways.”

  “And your friend, what will he be doing after he puts his weapons down?”

  “His friend will be standing here figuring out how best to kill you if you break your word,” Nailmoe announced.

  “I would expect nothing less,” the dragon said with a smile that exposed all its teeth. “But I still do not know if I can trust you. Why do you need the Sword?”

  “My intended was pulled through a dimensional rift of some sort. The Sword will allow me to open a wizard’s crypt to obtain some crystals which can open a passage to her, so that I can bring her back.”

  “The Crystals of Light and Blood?” the dragon asked.

  “Yes, you are familiar with them?”

  “Quite. The wizard who possesses them is the same one who imprisoned me here. Does he still live?”

  “It is doubtful. He sealed himself away ages ago, and has not been seen or heard from since.”

  “But if he does live, what will you do?”

  “Whatever is necessary to obtain the crystals.”

  “If he still lives, will you promise to kill him? If you make that promise, I will gladly hold to our bargain.”

  “I am already planning on killing the wizard who took Mearisdeana away, so what will one more dead wizard matter? I promise.”

  “Then we have a bargain. You may proceed.”

  Adamtay and Nailmoe laid their weapons and shields aside. Nailmoe grabbed Adamtay’s arm in a soldier’s embrace—forearm to forearm. “If this goes wrong I will avenge you and bring her back,” he whispered.

  Adamtay straightened his back and squared his shoulders before marching past the dragon. In the dimness behind he could barely make out a stone altar with a thick covering of dust. Below the dust something lay, causing a mound running lengthwise along the top. The Sword, he surmised. Removing a glove he used it to brush along the length of the item, attempting to ascertain what was blade and what was hilt. He reasoned that a sword that could cut anything was probably sharp enough to remove a digit. Carefully he brushed away the dust of ages until he recognized the shape of a sword hilt. Pulling his glove back on he dug his hand into the dust and closed it around the hilt. As he lifted the Sword the rest of the dust fell away revealing a scimitar with a thick curved blade and a jewel encrusted grip. Sword in hand, Adamtay headed back to Nailmoe.

  The dragon watched him intently as he made his way to the front of the chamber and then approached. Its head was up now, no longer resting on its crossed front feet. “Be careful man. My teeth are sharp.”

  “And very long,” Adamtay added. “I will put the Sword down here while I … we … decide how to free you. Would you lower your head?”

  Before doing so, the dragon unfolded his front feet and extended one out. It almost touched Adamtay’s back. Adamtay tried to ignore it as he studied the chains and collar. The collar was made of two pieces. The end of each was bent outwards and contained a hole through which the last link of each chain passed.

  “If I cut this final link, the collar will open,” he told the beast. The dragon’s neck was long enough to allow him to swing his head around to see where Adamtay pointed.

  “I am going to pick up the Sword now and test it on the chain. Please lower your head.” Slowly, using only one hand, Adamtay retrieved the Sword and moved up to the dragon’s neck. Gingerly, he reached out with the blade and stroked the final link of the chain. The Sword flowed through the metal leaving a notch about a quarter of the way into the thick link.

  “It cuts!” the dragon exclaimed.

  “It certainly does,” Adamtay agreed. “But we will have to position the chain so that when it breaks through it does not injure you.”

  “That would be wise for all concerned,” the dragon agreed.

  After the dragon performed some squirming around and used one massive foot to claw the chain taunt, they were ready. Adamtay held the Sword firmly in both hands, placed it against the metal and, with controlled force, drew it swiftly across both sides of the link. The severed chain fell heavily to the ground leaving a nub of metal holding the two parts of the collar together. The dragon reared up with a mighty bellow. With one front foot he grabbed the remaining chain and drew it tight. For a moment the nub held before the force tore the collar apart. It was flung across the chamber with enough force to make the ground shake. The dragon roared, and swooped towards Nailmoe who dove out of its path. It ignored him and shuffled in an awkward crouch down the entrance tunnel. In seconds it was gone.

  “I do not think I packed enough under garments,” Nailmoe observed.

  Chapter 39

  Vee watched the other captains as Needles finished the sand drawing of Waysley. No one had openly baulked at the idea of taking Waysley as a new home, but open displays of discontent were few these days since he had killed the last two men who disagreed with him. These captains seemed to like the idea, now will they like the plan?

  The fog that had crawled across the island for some time had dissipated, allowing the sun to blaze down on the men as they stood on the firm sand by the shore. In no time the sun was steaming the dampness from their gaudy clothes. Needles finished the drawing and stood inside the lines with the long drawing stick still in hand. The sixteen captains Vee had invited to attend stood in a loose circle around the picture.

  “The walls be log, bout twice a man’s height, and there be two gates set in stone with a gatehouse and stone crenellation above,” Needles explained, “and four stone guard-towers along the walls, here, here, here and here.” He pointed to the locations of the four towers and then to one of the gates. “The Water Gate be two long bow shots from the wharf. There be some warehouses and other buildings closer to the water, but there be an open area—more than a bow shot wide—between the buildings and the walls.”

  “The killing ground,” Wolf Blackheart, captain of the Foam Skimmer, interjected.

  “It goes around the whole city,” Needles continued. The Woods Gate be here at the other side of town. It services the farmers, woodcutters and miners. The road travels to the mines which be a three day cart ride into the hills.

  “There be only forty or so city guards in the town’s garrison. They sentence law breakers to work in the mines, so there be sixty or so guard there, but they be too far away to do any good. We will outnumber the full complement of guards by three or four to one.”

  “The killing ground is what bothers me,” Blackheart commented. “It suggests a commander with experience and influence. He could be a problem.”

  “The Captain of the Guards was killed de
ad in a botched robbery attempt just before we left,” Needles put in. “That be what it looked like anyway. Story be that a pickpocket tried for his purse, was grabbed before he could flee, but managed to stick the captain with his knife. They be both dead by the time they were found. The thief be one we had grabbed to learn about sneak holes through the walls. He had talked without too much persuading.”

  The captains murmured their approval. Vee stepped forward.

  “The plan so far be to sneak into the city with a small group of men, led by Needles, through a thieves’ hole. They will remain hidden until the main attack. The rest of us will divide into two forces, one for each gate. I will lead the attack on the Woods Gate. Cracker will lead the Water Gate attack. Blackheart, I want the Foam Skimmer to handle any ships found in the harbour. Choose another captain to assist you. Do you have a problem with that?”

  “Am I to be in command?”

  “Call it what you will. Use two more ships to block the harbour entrance to keep the merchant ships contained, maybe set fire to a few on your way past. The rest of our ships will land their men and attack the gate. That will draw most of the guards to the Water Gate. That be when Needles’ group will force the Woods Gate open as my men attack. That will draw guards back to the Woods Gate. Needle’s group will then open the Water Gate, and except for some cleanup the city be ours.”

  Most of the captains could be seen nodding their heads as they thought over the plan. Vee expected Blackheart to mouth some veiled insult to the details, but when he opened his mouth he asked a question.

  “How many sneak holes are there?”

  “Three.”

  “Then why not send men through all three? One group could run into trouble and fail to open the gates. There would be a better chance of success with two more groups.”

  “Good thought,” Vee admitted. “We’ll send in three small groups.”

  The rest of the captains murmured their way from acceptance to enthusiasm. Before the day ended, Vee sent them all off to gather the rest of the captains and ships with instructions to be ready to sail by the next new moon.