Chaos Reigning: The Five Kingdoms Book 10

by Toby Neighbors

  They feasted that night and the officers paid homage to Lorik, swearing their fealty to their new king and getting to know Toomis. The next morning they set out for their homes in the south, with Toomis taking the lead. Lorik hoped the young soldier would thrive in his new position, but if he didn’t Lorik would deal with that in time. It was better to segregate the outcasts from the humans. He didn’t want to spend all his time policing his people and settling disagreements between them. The outcasts would build a spectacular kingdom and the humans would only slow them down. In time, it might be necessary to enslave the humans in the south to make them serve the outcasts in Lorik’s new empire. He knew humans couldn’t be trusted for long, and he would ensure that none of them had the opportunity to betray him ever again, but for the moment they were not a threat.

  Lorik sent the outcast soldiers to the east and west to gather other outcasts and send the humans they found south. When Lorik and Spector finally returned to Center Point the city was unrecognizable. There were people all along the valley and spreading out across the plains on either side. The fortress on the hill had been built into a massive tower with a strong stone wall encircling the great hall. Stone had been set on the north side of the city to begin building a wall and there were vast fields being cultivated on the southern side. Water was diverted from the river and pumped up the hillside into a simple irrigation system. Lorik saw fields of wheat, barley, hops, corn, and rye. There were also large vegetable fields and pastures for cattle.

  The town had become the first major settlement in Osla or Falxis since the Witch’s War. Caravans were being brought in from across both kingdoms as the salvageable goods from settlements near and far were collected by the growing number of outcasts. Butchers, blacksmiths, bakers, and tanners had built shops and begun producing goods for the community. There were tailors, artisans, carpenters, and farmers. Every outcast had at one time been a normal citizen, plying a trade. Inns were built, along with taverns and cafés. Armorers and blade smiths were commissioned to make weapons and armor for the larger, stronger outcasts that served as guards in the new city. It was the fastest growing community that Lorik had ever seen, and even more productive than he had dreamed.

  There were armed guards throughout the city, and as their numbers grew more of the able-bodied outcasts were recruited and trained. Some were regulars, others served part time. The outcasts could stand watch for eight hours and then return to their professions for eight hours, since they only needed a few hours of sleep. Stonemasons had begun cutting blocks of granite to be used for the city walls. The strong outcasts could move the stones much more quickly than normal humans. And while no one liked working for free, the outcasts all had vivid memories of the horrors of being on their own. Many had seen humans killing outcasts for sport, or had lived in terror, hunger, and deprivation, not to mention crippling loneliness since the witch had been killed and they had regained their senses. They couldn’t reverse the mutations that had forever changed their bodies, but they could make a place for themselves where they felt safe. In many cases most of the outcasts liked their new abilities. They were stronger and had more stamina than ever before. They were hideous, but so was everyone else in the community, which meant that they didn’t stand out, but rather fit in to their new home.

  Some had begun to mate, building homes and joining together as families. Children had been mutated in the war too, their bodies unnaturally tall and thin, but none of the couples in the entire community were able to have children. Something about the magical change had robbed them of their ability to have children.

  After his return, Lorik settled into his new quarters above the great hall. It wasn’t a castle exactly, but was quickly becoming one. The outcasts gifted the most treasured objects to their new king and Lorik was lavished with beautiful furniture, jewelry, weapons, plates, goblets, serving ware, tapestries, rugs, and clothing. A treasury was built and gold was collected for Bartoom. The watchtower was reinforced and a lair was created for the dragon. No one had seen the dragon since Lorik’s confrontation with the queen, but Lorik kept his word. The lair had pillars supporting a strong roof, but the walls were open and the floor was a concave pit. Lorik had all the gold collected and piled into the lair. A few days later the dragon arrived, landing in the aerie and settling among the gold. It used the heat from its fiery breath to melt the precious metal and line the pit of its lair.

  Lorik was satisfied with what he’d built and he sent trustworthy people to replicate his success in various settlements east, west, and south of Center Point, but to the north no real reconstruction was undertaken. To the outcasts who chose to live north of Lorik’s new city, warning of the coming danger was given, along with instructions to hurry south if human soldiers were spotted moving south. And like wind before a storm, a sudden influx of outcasts just a few days after Lorik had returned home carried rumors of an army from Baskla marching through Ortis and claiming the land as their own.

  “At last,” Spector hissed. “We will have revenge.”

  “I told you they would come,” Lorik said. “Their greed and avarice drives them, but it shall be their undoing.”

  “You will fight,” Spector said. “No mercy.”

  “None,” Lorik said. “They might have lived in peace, had they stayed in their kingdoms and turned over those who played a hand in turning Ortis against me. But they chose this fight, they invaded lands not their own and laid claim to goods that were never theirs. We shall destroy them utterly, and once their armies are broken and ruined, we will march north and bring order to the Five Kingdoms.”

  “I care nothing for order, only death.”

  “And you shall swim in it, my friend. All those who have wronged us will die, their families will die, and their lines will be wiped off the face of the earth and remembered no more.”

  “You swear it?”

  “On my life,” Lorik said. “Anyone who challenges us is my enemy and I will see them brought low. Anyone.”

  Chapter 31

  When Jute woke up his pain returned in a way he’d never experienced before. Jute had worked a forge and had burned himself many times. But he’d never lost a limb or had the stump seared with fire to stop the bleeding. It was all he could do to lay still and not cry out. His body was wet with sweat, but above him he could see bright blue sky between the waving boughs of towering evergreen trees.

  “So, you’re alive. Wonders will never cease,” Babaz said, leaning over Jute.

  “He doesn’t look so good,” Hammert said, leaning in from the other side.

  “That’s just because he’s from the Yel clan. They’re all ugly, soft, and slow witted.”

  “Don’t die, Jute, there will be feasting and songs sung in your honor when we return home,” said Hammert, leaning in closer. “And you’ll have your pick of mates.”

  “Jute the Pathfinder,” Babaz said with a sour expression. “We’ll have to come up with a better name.”

  “Jute the Rescuer?” Hammert said, but sounded uncertain.

  “We’ve got plenty of time to come up with something,” Babaz said. “Now that we’re free of the caverns we can go back to the Highlands.”

  Jute smiled at the thought of returning home, but then his mind wandered and he fell asleep. Nightmares haunted him and he remembered that Brianna had said the dwarves who had stayed behind in the Highlands were suffering too. He knew they would need to return home as quickly as possible, but for the moment it was all he could do to rest quietly and not give in to the constant agony of losing his hand.

  The dwarves had found a boulder large enough to cover the tunnel to the underworld shortly after Jute was pulled free. They beat back the demons trying to escape behind them, then rolled the large stone into place. They knew that eventually the demon hordes would find a way to move it and escape, but the boulder gave the dwarves time to set up a camp away from the cavern entrance.

  They had gone into the forest of evergreens, finding a stream of clean, cold wa
ter. The dwarves were hardy folk, but they had gone without adequate water for too long. Most collapsed beside the stream and drank until they were sick. Hammert and Babaz set about organizing a camp. They needed shelter and time to rest, but they needed to remain vigilant. They were out of the caverns, but they weren’t out of danger.

  Fires were kindled and while Jute slept, his body still in shock from losing his arm, the dwarves cauterized his stump and did their best to dress the wound. Jute woke to water being dribbled into his mouth. He licked at the cool water, which tasted sweet.

  “Go slow, we have time,” a female dwarf said.

  She had her beard tied into a thick braid that was tucked into the ragged tunic she wore. The skin around her eyes was smooth and she had thick lips.

  “Am I dead,” he managed to croak.

  “Not yet,” the dwarf said.

  “I hurt.”

  “That too will pass in time.”

  “How did I get out of the caverns?”

  “Babaz pulled you out.”

  “He didn’t say anything,” Jute said.

  “He wouldn’t, that’s not his way.”

  “You are of the Oliad clan?”

  She nodded. Jute laid back and closed his eyes. The dwarf beside him stroked his head softly. Even in his misery he enjoyed her touch. Dwarves mated for life, but usually not until they reached their middle years. Jute hadn’t really thought about settling down, but he had to admit the dwarf’s light touch seemed to ease his pain a little.

  The dwarves had searched the forest and found enough food to keep them alive. There were dandelion greens and wild mushrooms growing in the forest. It was simple fare and they would need more to regain their strength and health, but it was enough to make a healthy soup. When Jute was feeling a little stronger, the female dwarf helped him raise up so that he was propped against a tree trunk and could sip some broth. All around him he saw the sick and wounded dwarves. They seemed happy, despite their poor physical condition.

  Days passed, and with each one the dwarves grew stronger. Jute even saw Brianna’s dragon, but only from a distance. One morning the dwarves discovered a fat bull elk freshly killed and abandoned near their camp. There were strange marks on the animal that Jute guessed came from the dragon’s talons. The dwarves roasted the meat and ate well for the first time since entering the caverns over a year before. Health returned to the sick and even Jute’s missing hand began to heal. Eventually they began their long trek home.

  The mountains were covered with evergreen trees; spruce and fir, cedar and pine. The trees made the terrain difficult to traverse but at the same time gave shade and shelter to the dwarves who never really felt comfortable under open sky. There were signs of the escaped Groslings, but the dwarves had no way of hunting them down. Jute struggled with guilt over the escape of the wretched creatures. He had no doubt they would bring chaos and ruin wherever they went and he vowed to hunt them down once his arm was healed and his people safely returned to their home under the Northern Highlands.

  They were two days out from the Walheta Mountains, skirting the Rejee Desert when they saw Zollin and his mighty green dragon. Jute wasn’t afraid of the young wizard, but he was filled with dread at the prospect of telling him about Brianna. She had sacrificed everything to save Jute and the other dwarves, but the fact that she remained in the underworld plagued him daily.

  As the dragon circled down toward the dwarves Jute knew he couldn’t put off telling Zollin about Brianna. He only hoped that if the young fire spirit was still alive that Zollin might somehow find a way to help her. And despite his missing hand and still mending arm, if Jute could help rescue her, he would do it. The thought of leaving his fellow dwarves was painful, but he had led them to safety and they were out of the mountains, far from the reach of the powerful Bollark. It was time for Jute to clean up the mess he’d made of things, even if it wasn’t entirely his fault. He would go with the wizard and lead him back to the underworld, back to Brianna, even if it meant sealing his doom.

  ***

  Time meant nothing in the underworld and Brianna had no way of knowing how long she had suffered. The Bollark’s fiery touch didn’t harm her, but she was held in the creature’s unbreakable grip. Whenever she struggled the Bollark squeezed her until she couldn’t breathe. At other times it pulled her arms and legs until Brianna thought her limbs would pop from the sockets.

  Nothing else could survive the creature’s fiery touch. Even the stone grew so hot that it glowed red after only a few minutes in the Bollark’s hand. She had seen the fire giant melt stone and swim in molten rock. No other creature could come close without being burned. The Bollark had been angry with the Groslings who returned after the dwarves escaped. Brianna saw that their number was greatly diminished, but she had no way of knowing what had happened. The Bollark’s anger gave her hope that the dwarves had made it safely out of the caverns. It was the one thought that brought her any relief.

  Her feelings for Zollin haunted her like a bad dream. She felt guilty for leaving him behind and couldn’t shake the idea that she was being punished for abandoning him. He had done nothing but love her and yet she felt smothered by his affection rather than strengthened. She wanted spontaneity not security, and adventure rather than routine. Still, she knew if he had been with her things would be different. She had sacrificed herself to give the dwarves a chance to escape and while she knew Zollin would have done the same, she also knew that had he been there he would never have stopped trying to save her.

  No one could rescue her from the Bollark, she knew that. The fire giant held her in its hand like a child who has captured a bird. She did her best to try and escape, but the powerful demon only seemed amused at her efforts. The fire giant never slept and while she tried to slip away when his attention seemed occupied by other things, he was simply too strong. The grip of the fire giant made her feel like she would be crushed if she fought to escape. And her greatest fear was that she might end up hurting the baby by fighting to break free.

  Eventually the lack of food and water caught up with her and she grew listless. She knew that at some point she would have to make a decision. No one could come close enough to the fire giant to bring her food, and the Bollark refused to let her go even to eat. Her supernatural powers sustained her for a while, but eventually she lost her strength. Her only option left was to die fighting. She vowed to herself that she wouldn’t let her child be lost to the Bollark. The underworld was a nightmarish place and she refused to think of her baby suffering there. She would die first, but she needed to rest and find the right opportunity. She knew there was one more battle to fight and while it frightened her terribly, she swore to herself that she would fight it. She wouldn’t give up hope or leave her fate in the hands of the Bollark. The time would come soon, she knew, and she would escape or die trying. She only wished that she could conjure up even a spark of hope that she and the baby wouldn’t be lost forever.

  Chapter 32

  Ferno spotted the dwarves in the distance before Zollin could see them at all. The dragon sent a mental image of the troop of dwarves marching north. Ferno could zoom his vision far away to make out the smallest details. Zollin recognized the dwarves as those from the Northern Highlands, although he felt a pang of regret at how thin and ragged they seemed.

  “We need to meet them,” Zollin said. “Land nearby, but not too close. I want to make sure they recognize us.”

  Ferno circled the column of dwarves once, before settling several hundred feet away from them. Zollin got down and approached the dwarves on foot. He was anxious to hear what had happened to the dwarves since the witch’s war, but didn’t look forward to telling them news from their own homes in the north.

  “I hope you have food, wizard!” Babaz shouted as Zollin approached. “My throat is dry from all this walking.”

  “I have food, although it may not be enough for everyone,” Zollin said. “I can get more.”

  The dwarves gathered around Z
ollin and most had grave expressions. Zollin recognized several as he uncorked the cask of ale. The small barrel was only half full and Zollin worried that there wouldn’t be enough for the dwarves to each have a single drink, but he shared it freely.

  Jute pushed his way to the front of the crowd. His face was pale and Zollin noticed the dwarf was missing a hand. The amulet pulsed as the dwarves drew near as many of them were wounded or sick.

  “We’ve had a long journey,” Hammert said. “Your generosity is well received.”

  “I can go to a village and get enough food and supplies for all of you,” Zollin said. “Enough for your trip north.”

  “First you must hear our news,” Jute said, his voice grave. The dwarf took a breath and then told Zollin about Brianna in one hurried statement. “The fire spirt is held prisoner in the underworld by a Bollark. Brianna sacrificed herself to save us.”

  “What?” Zollin said, his breath catching in his throat. “Is she… dead?”

  “I cannot say,” Jute said, his head hanging low. “We were captured by the demons under the Walheta Mountains. I managed to escape and she helped me free my kin. But at the last moment she sealed the cavern behind us and we have not seen her since. I fear the Bollark has her.”

  “What’s a Bollark?” Zollin said, his heart pounding in his chest.

  “A fire giant,” Babaz explained. “Ancient beings that were trapped in the underworld long ago.”

  “Her fate weighs heavy on my conscience,” Jute said. “I will lead you to her.”