Reaching Highport would be like crossing the finish line at last.
“It’s colder than usual for this time of year. Even if the Vardmiters accept us with open arms, it’s going to be a hard winter for everyone,” said Skemtun.
“At least the trail is clear,” said Kathir. “That’s a blessing. Do you anticipate the Vardmiters to accept all your survivors?”
Skemtun shook his head sadly. “I hope they do, but I’m not sure what to expect—not after everything that’s happened between the clans.”
Skemtun didn’t say anything more. He rode up to the front in order to get a better look at the trail. When he made it up to the front line, he spotted Bolrakei and stopped. They hadn’t spoken much in the last few weeks. Skemtun tried to avoid her. He’d told himself it was because he was busy with his leadership duties, but he knew in his heart that was a lie.
Bolrakei rode a mule while everyone around her walked. Somehow she’d managed to remain quite fat, despite their lack of food. Her neck and wrists glittered with the jewels her people had been able to retrieve from the mountain during the siege.
Bolrakei turned around and eyed Skemtun with disapproval. “What are you doing up here? Aren’t you supposed to be safeguarding the back of the line?”
“The orcs haven’t attacked us in days,” Skemtun said. “They’re leaving us alone for now, so I decided to ride up front for a while. Your clan members have some nice weapons. Perhaps some of them would like to take a turn fighting in the back for a while.”
“Not a chance!” she snapped. “I need all my guards up here! Who will guard my gemstones? Someone has to protect the last bit of wealth we have! Without me, the clans would have nothing!”
Bolrakei’s words stirred up intense anger within him. “What good are yer gemstones here, Bolrakei? Look around ye! Can’t ye see that everyone is starving? People are only interested in bread to fill their bellies. Maybe if ye’d spent less time obsessing about yer money and yer jewelry, this march wouldn’t ‘ave been so hard on everyone!”
“You don’t know anything!” Bolrakei snapped. “We’ll certainly need my treasures if the Vardmiters don’t allow us to stay with them! Have you thought about that? How will we buy food or supplies? How will we purchase land? It will fall on my clan to purchase those things, since my clan is the only one with anything of value!”
Skemtun’s frowned. “Yer clan is no more important than mine, Bolrakei. We’re equals.”
“Ha!” she snorted. “ I’m high born and have a long line of royal ancestors. You’re nothing more than a miner’s son, and a lucky one, at that! You’re low by birth, and I’m destined to be the next queen.”
“Don’t be so sure about that, ‘princess,’” said Skemtun, with sarcasm. “Ye don’t wear a crown yet, thank goodness.”
Bolrakei’s expression became even uglier. “You watch your mouth! I will be the next queen! You can bet on it!”
“Ye know, I wouldn’t take that bet myself!” he snorted, turning his pony around. Bolrakei screamed obscenities at his retreating back. He just kept moving until he couldn’t hear her anymore.
Kathir rode up behind him. “I can tell from your expression that your little chat with Bolrakei didn’t go very well.”
“No…it didn’t.” Skemtun sighed. “I let my anger get the best of me. She just kept pushin’ and pushin’ and I finally exploded. But I know how she is, and I really shouldn’t antagonize her like that. It’s distressin’ for the others to us bickerin’ like children. We’re supposed to set an example.”
“As you say,” Kathir said, “I agree with you, but I also understand the temptation to fight with Bolrakei. I’ve been tempted to sock her myself a few times.”
“Now that’s a diplomatic answer,” Skemtun chuckled.
“Come on, you know that she’s not fit to be a clan leader, much less a queen. She’s insufferable, greedy, and self-centered. I realize that her clan holds most of the wealth, but that doesn’t excuse her behavior.”
Skemtun remained silent for a moment. “Aye, well…let her do what she wants, for now. As long as my people are safe, it doesn’t really matter.”
There was no wind, but there was a strange haze in the air, and it was growing dark. In the distance, they could see lightning flash on the horizon, the sign of a coming storm.
Kathir opened his mouth to make a comment about the weather, but an alert from the back of the line told him that orcs had been spotted. “Again? I thought this was over!”
They both turned, spurring their mounts to the blast of the horn.
“The orcs have followed us onto the plains!” shouted Kathir, and the dwarves scrambled to defend the camp.
By the time Skemtun and Kathir reached the rear, dozens of dwarves were already fighting for their lives. It was another roving band of orcs, and this time, they were mounted on drask, the large, venomous lizards the orcs rode into battle.
“They’ve got drask with them!” shouted Skemtun. The horn sounded again, with three short bursts: a warning to the women and children to run and hide.
The drask lined up in a single row—clicking and snapping their jaws. The foul smell of the lizards was so strong that they had to stifle the urge to vomit.
Kathir set a bolt in his crossbow. He hoped that he would be able to keep himself and Skemtun alive, but the odds were certainly stacked against them this time.
As he let loose the first arrow, a huge shadow moved overhead. The dwarves looked up to see two massive shapes in the clouds. The dwarves cheered: the dragon riders had finally arrived to help them—and just in time.
The dragons roared as they swooped down from the sky, sending thick streams of dragonfire towards the orcs. The drask scattered—running in every direction. For an instant, the fire engulfed everything around them, and the dwarves felt fear as the incredible heat scorched their skin.
Ear-piercing screams carried through the air as the drask died within the flames. The orcs jumped from their terrified mounts and ran, screaming as they tried to escape, but there was no cover for them. The dragon riders continued their attack. Minutes later, it was over.
Once they were sure that all the orcs were either scattered or dead, the dragon riders swooped down and landed near the dwarves. They were all cheering like mad. Elias and Sela slid from their saddles and the dwarves surrounded them instantly.
“You two are a wonderful sight!” Kathir shouted gratefully. He really meant it. None of the dwarves had been hurt.
“Who’s in charge here?” Sela asked.
“I am!” Bolrakei shouted, trotting up on her mule while pushing her way through the crowd. “I’m in charge!”
Skemtun maneuvered his pony beside her and said in a loud voice, “I’m here, too.” He crossed his arms over his chest and shot Bolrakei an irritated look.
Sela smiled. “I’m glad to see that both of you made it. We came as soon as we could. How is everyone else doing?”
Skemtun shrugged. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. We’ve made it this far, and most of us survived.”
Sela nodded and looked Skemtun directly in the eye. “You’ve done a good job leading your people.” Then she turned to address Kathir. “I’m surprised you’re still here, mercenary. Why haven’t you gone back to Miklagard?” Her tone was curious but not accusatory.
Kathir gave her a slight smile. “Because my contract is still active. It’s my job to guard Skemtun and bring him to safety. If he doesn’t make it to Highport alive, then I don’t get paid.”
“Ah, I see,” she replied.
“Kathir’s been very helpful,” Skemtun said. “He’s helped us all along the way.” Then his expression grew anxious. “You and Elias stayed behind at Mount Velik for a long time. What happened back there? Were there any more survivors?”
Sela nodded. “Yes, a few every day. We would have come to help
you sooner, but survivors kept coming out, usually in ones and twos. We continued to search for survivors and checked all the exits several times a day. Many of your people were badly injured and could not be saved. We stayed behind as long as we could, but I eventually called off the search and we flew here. If any unlucky souls are still trapped inside Mount Velik, they are all surely dead by now.”
Skemtun looked down sadly. The news was terrible, but not unexpected. ““What happened to the rest of the survivors?”
“Some chose to make the journey through the forest alone,” said Sela. “Elias flew the ones who were the most sick to Ironport. I assume they will catch up to your group eventually.”
“Well, that’s good news…” said Skemtun. “Are you staying with us? It would be a real help to us if ye stayed with us until we reached Highport. We could use help finding food, too.”
Sela nodded. “We’ll help any way we can. Brinsop and I will monitor the skies. Elias will tend to your sick, and Nydeired will go hunting and find some food. Nydeired is very strong; he is capable of carrying large game. In the meantime, your people should keep moving. There’s a storm coming, and it’s too cold to make camp. Your people will freeze to death out here.” She pointed north. “There’s a large cave just a few leagues away. It will give your people some shelter for the night, and keep you out of the storm. I’ll show you the location when you reach the slopes. You should be able to make it to the cave by this evening, if you move quickly.”
“Thank ye for helpin’ my people,” said Skemtun. “It means a lot to us.”
Sela nodded and returned to the air, where she and Elias circled overhead and watched for orcs. Everyone seemed more at ease with the dragons flying above them—they felt safer, and the relief on their faces was palpable.
Skemtun turned to Bolrakei. “Look, do us all a favor and spread the word that everyone needs to move quicker up if we’re going to make it to that cave by tonight. Everyone’ll be thankful for some real shelter for a change.”
Bolrakei huffed a bit, but she didn’t argue. She set off and returned to her place at the front of the column.
Skemtun took his place at the back of the line again. He turned to Kathir. “The young dragon rider—Elias—I saw the way ye looked at each other. Do ye know him?”
Kathir paused for a moment, considering his words. “We’re not friends, if that’s what you’re asking. It’s a little complicated. I met him years ago, under different circumstances. He was part of a contract job I did, unfortunately.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t really want to talk about it. A good mercenary learns to keep quiet about his previous jobs. It’s not good for business.”
Skemtun scratched his chin. “Humph. Ye’re a strange one, ye know that? I don’t know anything about ye—not really. But then…I guess ye’ve saved my life enough times that I should probably trust ye anyway.”
“Thanks.” Kathir smiled. It was an odd feeling, being trusted. For most of his life, he had been loathed or merely tolerated. As a slave, he was treated like an animal. When he became a dragon hunter out of necessity, he was despised by everyone. Even as a mercenary, he was treated with contempt by most people. No one seemed to like him; they just hired him to do their dirty work.
But things were different with Skemtun. The dwarf seemed to trust him, and Kathir found that he liked travelling with him. It felt good to help people, and he felt like he fit in, even though he wasn’t part of their clans. He looked onto the horizon. A cave came into view in the distance.
“Woo!” shouted Skemtun. “A cave. that’s exactly what we need!”
Kathir nodded. A warm cave to sleep in would be good for everyone. If the dragons got lucky hunting, maybe they would have a nice meal, too.
Filled with a strange excitement, the dwarves hurried forward, reaching for their goal.
6. The Refugees
They reached the cave just in time. The rain started coming down in torrents as soon as they arrived. The dwarves clawed up the final slope and dashed inside the cave to safety.
The dwarves were so grateful to sleep inside a cave again that no one complained about how crowded it was. Despite their cramped quarters, the temperature inside was comfortable. The air smelled cleanly of mud and clay. The dwarves made camp on the clean sand floor, lighting fires to cook and heat water. After tying their pack animals inside the cave, they all settled down to rest and relax.
Nydeired caught two wild boars, so they even had a nice meal that night. Everyone’s spirits were lifted, and it was one of the best nights the dwarves had had in a long while. The next morning, they packed up their things and continued their journey in much better spirits.
But soon, reality set in. As the refugees began the final leg of their ascent up the mountain, it became clear that the Vardmiters would not be welcoming them. In the distance, the stiff lines of the Vardmiter army stretched out across the slopes of Highport.
The Vardmiters could have sent a messenger, but instead, they sent their entire defensive force out to meet them.
It was not a good sign.
There was a lack of order in the Vardmiter’s front lines that showed they were not well-trained soldiers. Most of them were armed with farm tools, rather than regular weapons. The Vardmiters were farmers and laborers, not warriors. Even so, they looked ready to fight. Despite their lack of formal training, the ragged group of refugees from Mount Velik would be no match for the Vardmiters, who were all fresh, well-rested, and healthy.
The refugees paused a short distance away from the Vardmiters, not willing to move forward any further.
Bolrakei looked frantic. “Their army is waiting to attack us! Can you believe it? Our own people! How could they do this to us after everything we’ve been through? Don’t they know we were invaded by the orcs?”
“I have to defuse this tension before things get out of hand,” Skemtun thought. He approached the front lines, and the Vardmiters tensed and shifted their weapons.
Sitting on her mule, Bolrakei cried out behind him. “The Vardmiters mean to destroy us! They’re traitors! We should take this mountain for ourselves!”
An alarmed murmur ran through the lines of refugees.
Just then, Bolrakei’s mule, tossed its head and reared back, depositing her unceremoniously in the mud. The animal snorted happily and trotted off in the opposite direction, pleased to be free of his burden. Scattered laughter went through both sides of the crowd. Bolrakei wiped futilely at her grimy face and hair, and then screamed at Skemtun. “Don’t just stand there! Do something!”
“Be quiet, Bolrakei,” Skemtun hissed. “What do ye want me to do? Attack them? Our people are exhausted. If we attack, people will die on both sides. Is that what you want?”
“We’ve got to do something!” she screeched. “I haven’t come all this way to be treated like this!”
Kathir interrupted her. “Skemtun is right. Everyone’s tired from marching, and you’ve lost your best warriors fighting the orcs. The Vardmiters could massacre us if they wanted to.” He tried to speak as dispassionately as he could, but his words still caused Bolrakei to glare at him intensely.
Bolrakei spun towards Kathir with unmasked fury. “Shut up, mercenary! You don’t get to make decisions for my people!”
“And ye don’t have the right to commit our people to a suicidal charge!” said Skemtun. “We came here to forge a compromise with the Vardmiters, not to fight them.”
“I’m a clan leader!” Bolrakei screamed. “My clan ranking is higher than yours!”
As Bolrakei and Skemtun continued to argue, Kathir scanned the Vardmiter ranks. They seemed frozen in place. Kathir could see one dark-haired dwarf in front; he was heavily armed and was wearing fine armor. He was obviously in charge.
It was Utan, the leader of the Vardmiter clan. He watched the drama unfolding in front of him calmly, without saying anything. He didn’
t order his men to attack. He simply watched and waited.
The dragon riders arrived next on the scene, circling down to land so they were positioned between the two groups of dwarves.
Sela stepped forward and addressed both groups. “It seems we are at an impasse. Are you going to speak to each other?”
There were nods and murmurs of agreement from both sides.
Skemtun heaved a sigh. “I’ll go talk to Utan.”
“Stop!” yelled Bolrakei, grabbing his sleeve. “What are you doing? They sent their army out to meet us!”
He shook her off. “Arguin’ with me isn’t going to help the situation. Our people are starvin’ and tired. We can’t go back to Mount Velik now. We’ve no place to live, so I’m going to talk to Utan and see if we can come to a compromise.”
“They’re not trying to welcome us, can’t you see that?”
Skemtun frowned. “It doesn’t matter. We don’t have any choice in this, so I have to try.”
Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “I wouldn’t do it, Skemtun.”
Skemtun rolled his eyes. “I’m still a clan leader, and ye don’t have the authority to boss me around. Ye’re not a queen—not yet, anyway. Now, I’m going over to talk with Utan. Ye can come along, or ye can stay here, sulking in the mud. I don’t care either way.” He dismounted and started walking up the hill.
He hadn’t gone far before Bolrakei ran up behind him, panting as she jogged. “Wait! I’m coming! I’m coming!”
Utan stepped forward, flanked by two bodyguards. Sela and Elias stood nearby, but they did not attempt to interfere. Utan addressed Sela and Elias first. “Thank ye for bein’ here. I appreciate the dragon riders’ presence durin’ this difficult time.” Then he gave a curt nod to Skemtun and Bolrakei.
“Don’t try to sweet-talk us, Utan! I remember what your clan did! Don’t forget that!” Bolrakei snapped.
Kathir's Redemption (Book 6) Page 7
