Thunderbolt (Dynasty of Storms Book 2)

by Brandon Cornwell

  Sargoth shrugged. “I just couldn't get the thought of moose off of my mind. After two centuries of bathing in lava and eating only pork, or whatever other animal they shooed down to me, spending some time in the snow didn't sound too bad, nor did mixing up the menu.”

  Elias laughed. “That's really it?”

  Sargoth shrugged, looking out over the field. The soldiers worked quickly; the trench was almost filled with bodies already. “As far as what matters right now, yes. I didn't have much of a plan, really. Nowhere to go, nothing to do, no lair to protect... it was just me. I could go wherever I wanted, so I did.”

  He looked back at Elias. “It just so happened that by the time I had meandered my way here, there was word floating around of a rather large elf leading a force of blue-skinned warriors into the Northlands. I figured it was you.”

  Elias furrowed his brow, puzzled. “Word from who? Are the dragons concerning themselves with the kingdoms of men and elves?”

  Sargoth moved in conspiratorially, holding one long, clawed hand near his mouth as if to shield his words, and said, quietly, “I'm not sure if you know this, but I have fantastic hearing, and Northmen aren't exactly subtle.” He chuckled. “I kept my distance, as my kind aren't exactly known for getting a warm reception. I had been in the north for about a fortnight when I caught a scent I hadn't smelled in a long time.”

  The silver dragon leaned back. “It was the Felle that put me in that cave, if you remember, so I'm none too fond of them. We've got a bit of a balance due between us. However, I wasn't about to be captured again, so I kept my distance from Tiefuhr. I had to pick my moment, you see. Once I saw the pickle you were in, I decided that it was as good a moment as any. After all, you saved my shiny hide from certain emaciation, and I figured I should return the favor. Once you were off, I flew back to Valtheim.”

  Sargoth chuckled. “After their initial shock at a giant, talking, flying lizard had passed, they accepted my offer to help. Brandt is a pragmatic man, if nothing else. He's also quite fond of you.”

  Sargoth glanced over at the trench that he had dug and noticed it was about filled. “One moment, if you please.” The dragon slid away from the wall, tucking his wings in tight to his body as he walked towards the mass grave. Elias marveled at how well such enormous limbs could fold up so small, sitting entirely flush with the dragon's back. While he had spent a lot of time with the silver dragon on the passage from Greenreef, Elias was still filled with a slight sense of awe when he watched at Sargoth move.

  The dragon positioned himself at one end of the trench, while the dwarves and Northmen retreated from the area, giving him plenty of space. Once he was sure that everyone was clear, Sargoth inhaled, then slowly, carefully, breathed a surge of fire so hot it was nearly white. He moved his head, directing the flames along the entirety of the grave, then back. When he had finished, red and orange flames rose out of the trench, consuming the bodies of the dead. Thick black smoke billowed towards the sky, blowing westward and away from the castle.

  When the flames had died down, Sargoth used his claws to pull the dirt back over the grave, burying the ashes and any embers left from the rather non-traditional burial. Several yards farther from the castle, he dug another trench, then returned to the wall, to converse more with Elias.

  “So, now that you've asked me what brings me to the north, I'll ask you the same. From what I gather, the man that lives in the rather large house, he is your kin?”

  Elias nodded. “Of a sort. We have different parents, but I was raised with him and his father and his father's father. I knew them all, and they are like family to me.”

  Sargoth leaned against the wall again, which shuddered from his weight but held. “It's not often that an elf lives with humans. You lives are much longer than theirs, aren't they? Much like we dragons when compared to elves?”

  Elias scratched his chin. “That's correct. We live about ten times as long as they do. Some elves have lived to be as old as a millennia, though that's uncommon.”

  Sargoth snorted. “I've lived nearly two of those, and I'm still young. Well, for my kind anyway.”

  Elias was surprised. “Nearly two thousand years?”

  Sargoth nodded. “I've lost track of exactly how many, but yes. Quite a few summers.” He looked back to Elias. “But you still haven't answered my question. What are your plans in the north? I was under the impression that this is where you were planning to stop off at, then head south. You were on the border of the Snowlands when I found you. If you had traveled much farther north, there would have been nothing but ice for as far as I could fly. No horses or men up there to aid your cause, and the ones you did find didn't seem to be too fond of you.”

  Elias looked down. “Carloman, along with two other lords, led a rebellion against my kinsman, Brandt, the man who lives here. They had stolen away his mother in an attempt to force him to comply with their demands, as well as legitimize another lord's claim to the throne. We had to bring her back. Now, though Brandt has taken his city back, and we have rebuilt his army, there are still three powerful lords who still want to split the north amongst themselves.” Elias shook his head. “I can't let that happen.”

  Sargoth nodded consideringly. “I suppose that makes sense. You are aware, then, of Carloman's ally, that wizard that was throwing the magic at me? What he can do, and who he serves?”

  Elias sighed. “We are aware. I'm not sure how we're going to deal with him.”

  The dragon scoffed. “Killing him seems like a pretty solid route to take. It's the one I would recommend, at least.”

  Elias remembered something that had made him curious. “When Eira joined us outside the castle, you said that you had wished that you had been able to meet her under different circumstances. Did you know of Eira before meeting her?”

  Sargoth shook his head. “Personally? No, I'd never heard of her or considered meeting her, specifically. However, just as I could smell the Felle on the fortress, I could smell the master of Air on her. Or, rather, his energy. It wasn't until after we got away from the region that the dark mage had control over that I was able to place who she was.”

  Elias frowned. “If you had never heard of her, why would it make a difference who she was?”

  Sargoth chuckled. “You ask a lot of questions, for a warrior.”

  Elias looked down, ruefully, setting his hands on the battlements. “I have many questions, yes. Some things don't make sense to me, and I find that worrisome.”

  Sargoth nodded. “I understand. However, what I think we should focus on, more than anything else, is how to kill that wizard, and how to get you your horse-riding soldiers. I don't think that will happen until you retake the Northlands.”

  Elias looked up at Sargoth. “Can you kill him?”

  Sargoth snorted. “Well, I tried, and I couldn't. I mean, I honestly tried. He is formidable, for sure.” He looked askance at Quartz, who had been listening silently during this time. “Maybe this one here would stand a better chance against him. Or perhaps the lovely queen. They are of the same... temperament.”

  Quartz stiffened. “We serve different masters.”

  Sargoth shrugged. “Different points of the same star.”

  Elias looked down at Quartz. “You know Drakhus?”

  Quartz scoffed. “I know of Drakhus. I have met him in passing. He is a student, like me. His master is the master of Destruction.”

  “He sure seemed interested in you,” Sargoth said, watching the soldiers slowly fill the second trench with bodies. “And he sure seemed interested in the Felle. Or, appeasing them, at least.”

  Quartz frowned but didn't speak. Elias got the impression that she knew more than she was letting on, but decided not to press her about it at this time.

  Sargoth seemed to notice as well, and glanced between Elias and Quartz. He was quiet for a moment, then pushed off of the wall, causing it to shudder again. “Well, I've got more bodies to dispose of, so if you'll excuse me...”

 
Sargoth sauntered over to the now full grave trench, and started breathing fire on it again, the searing dragonfire sending more thick black smoke into the afternoon sky. Elias turned to Quartz, who was already looking at him apprehensively.

  “So. How well do you know Drakhus?”

  She looked away, frowning. “Like I said. I've met him in passing once.”

  Elias frowned as well. “And like Sargoth said, he was certainly interested in you.”

  Quartz shrugged, still not looking at Elias. “Perhaps it was professional interest.”

  “He wasn't professionally interested in Eira.”

  Quartz shrugged, exasperated. “I do not know the mind of the student of Destruction. Our masters don't associate closely, and so neither do we.”

  Elias crossed his arms over his chest. “Anything you could tell us about this threat would be... greatly appreciated. I'm sure it could help us in our war efforts, both here and in the south.”

  “My purpose here is not to help anyone in any war effort,” Quartz snapped. “It is to carry out my master's bidding. I have done that.” She turned and walked briskly away, leaving Elias standing on the wall, watching her.

  What was she hiding, he wondered, and why was she so nervous and guarded about it?

  ~ ~ ~

  Elias sat at one of the long tables in the great hall. It was packed with warriors, where it was once filled with nobles and dignitaries. Elias found the inclusion of the common soldiers quite refreshing, and the soldiers approved as well. Morale was up, and the warriors were all in good spirits. Men, sea elves, and dwarves shared their meals in the hall in shifts, the kitchens taking over all of the food preparation normally handled in the army's camps. True, it was not the gourmet fare that was normally served in this room, but it was filling, and kept their army fed.

  Brandt walked around, greeting various soldiers, shaking hands, and making his presence known. Eira sat on the raised dais with the rest of the ranking women, the wives of knights and retainers, engaged in lively discussion with them. They had kept the secret of her magical training and study, preferring to celebrate the return of a queen, rather than the return of another wizard. Eira and Brandt both preferred it this way, and thus it was so.

  Over the last few days, the families of the soldiers that had returned from Gerulf and Adalhard's castles had been coming in waves. The city was filled to the brim with people returning to their homes, and Valtheim was bustling. Not only did the soldiers bring their families back to Valtheim, but their crops as well, inasmuch as they could. Typically, this many people flooding a city this late in the season would threaten food supplies, but the people of the Northlands were used to preparing for the long winter, and acted accordingly, bringing their winter provisions with them on their exodus.

  Brandt took his seat next to Elias, a broad smile on his face. “Good evening, brother! I trust you're well?”

  Elias smiled back. “I am, Brandt. I see you're in a fine mood!”

  Brandt clapped him on the back, causing Elias to wince, and poured himself a bowl of the same stew the rest of his men were eating. Normally, as lord of Valtheim, he dined much more extravagantly, but not tonight, it would seem.

  “Why shouldn't I be? We have rescued my mother, retaken Valtheim, and I have received word that some of my bannermen are willing to pledge their forces to retake the Northlands once more!”

  Elias paused in his meal, looking up. “Really? That's fantastic news!”

  Brandt laughed. “It is! Three lords from the west, two to the east, and two from the north! The western lords will send their forces to face Gerulf, when it is time for us to take Steinhalt!”

  Elias set his spoon down. “How many men?”

  “Six thousand in total, which swells our forces to nearly twenty-five thousand.” Brandt grinned again, drinking from his bowl, not bothering with a spoon.

  Elias nodded, considering. “We should match their forces. Six thousand of our own. Leave twelve here at Valtheim, just in case Carloman or Adalhard decide to make an attempt to take Valtheim. When do we begin?”

  Brandt drained his bowl and swallowed. “Steinhalt is five days march from Valtheim, perhaps six. We depart in the morning. Your friend the dragon has been a great help; all of the bodies have been burned. That would have taken my men a week, and the stench would have been horrific by then. We can go now without having to labor at that task.”

  Elias sat back, his bowl in his hand. With the other, smaller lords of the Northlands coming to aid their king, there would definitely be an advantage. Now would be the right time to press it.

  Brandt set his bowl down, and tapped the tabletop with his middle finger. “Once we crush Gerulf, we march north from there, two days, and deliver the same fate to Adalhard and his traitors at Eisberg. After that, it's just Carloman. He'll be harder, of course, with Tiefuhr as fortified as it is, but even if we have to put him to a siege, we can do it, and even march our men back and forth from Valtheim to refresh them, so that they never grow weary! Meanwhile, Carloman can sit and rot in his castle, and if that wizard of his shows his head, we'll put an arrow through his eye!”

  Elias wasn't so sure about that, but he decided he wasn't going to derail his friend's good mood. There was plenty of time to talk about the proper course of action with dealing with the wizard. Speaking of which...

  “Brandt, where is Quartz?”

  Brandt shrugged. “She left this afternoon. Said she had to return to her master, as her task was complete. Came straight off the wall with you to her chambers, and left. All of her personal effects are gone as well.” He side-eyed Elias. “You didn't make a pass at her, did you? I'd run if someone with your sour face made eyes at me too.”

  Elias shook his head, looking down. He hadn't told Brandt about Coral yet, so he could be forgiven his good-natured teasing. “No, not that. We just met with Sargoth, and she said she had to go. That was it.” He didn't want to speak too openly about his concerns. Those matters would be better to discuss in private.

  Brandt clapped him on the shoulder again. “Don't worry, brother. Perhaps those books will ruin her eyesight, and she'll remember you more fondly!”

  Brandt chuckled and got up, moving through the crowd and conversing with his soldiers. Elias stayed in his seat at the table, and finished his meal. He wasn't sure how to feel about Quartz. She had been a tremendous help, but her silence had him worried. What was it that she was not telling them, and would it have an effect on the upcoming battles?

  ~ ~ ~

  Elias stepped out into the brisk, cold air of the northern night. He stood in front of the doors, on the broad stone courtyard in front of the great hall. Tataramoa sat next to a large, blazing fire pot, and Elias walked over to him. He took a seat on one of the wide, shallow steps, the heat of the fire comfortable on his skin.

  The blue-skinned elf was sharpening his spear. “How are you, my friend?”

  Elias breathed in the cold air. “I am well, Tatar. How are you?”

  Tataramoa inspected his spear blade, then ran the stone over the edge another time. “I am as troubled as you are, but for different reasons.”

  Elias frowned. “What makes you think I am troubled?”

  “The elf stone witch. She does not tell you what you want to know.”

  Elias smiled slightly, looking down. “You saw that, then?”

  Tataramoa nodded. “I was on the walls with the rest of my men. We are excellent lookouts, and my hearing is better than many.”

  Elias sighed. “I wonder what it is that she is hiding, and why. I don't think she means to betray us, but I don't know her well enough to say for sure. She doesn't seem like that kind of person, but... I am not the best at divining the minds of women.” Indeed, his lover, Coral, had hidden not only her pregnancy from him but the fact that the prophecy that she had used to convince him to fight for the sea elves had been a fabrication.

  Tataramoa sharpened his spear in silence for a moment longer, before he said, “there is mor
e that we must speak of, Elias. My warriors are troubled.”

  Elias turned to face Tataramoa, concerned. “What is the problem?”

  Tataramoa thought for a moment before he spoke. “Many of my warriors wonder when they will be marching south, away from these cold lands. The beasts we came to hunt are not here. They say that your ties to the Northmen are stronger than your ties to them. Some of them wish to march south without you, to hunt the beasts called Felle and find their vengeance, or find their deaths.”

  Elias was quiet. It was true; their brief stop in the Northlands had become a full-blown campaign. They should have been at Castle Lonwick by now.

  Tataramoa set down his spear. “Elias, we would follow you to the Underworld if it would bring blood to our spears. We know that your heart is good and that your intentions are as well, but we have lost half of our number since we sailed away. Soon, if we keep fighting in the north, there may be none of us left to battle the devils that set our islands on fire.”

  Elias nodded. “I understand Tatar. I am sorry. This is not what I promised you when we left Greenreef. Many of your people have died on these shores.”

  Tataramoa set his hand on Elias's shoulder. “We would all die if it brought honor to our people. We would gladly throw ourselves into the fires of retribution if it burned right up to our feet. But here, we are just being killed by men, and now, we march west again? Then north? We are marching the wrong way.” The sea elf shook his head. “It is bad luck for so many of us to die so far from the sea, and so far from vengeance.”

  Elias stood. “When we march west, I would like for your warriors to stay here. Wait for me if you will. Your people are the best archers I have ever seen, and they can guard Valtheim's walls while we go off to war. The chances of the rebel lords attacking Valtheim in our absence is very, very low.”

  Tataramoa picked up his spear and stood, resting the butt of it on the stone steps. “And when you return, victorious, we will march south, to the Felle?”