The King's Gold: (The King's Gold Saga Book 1)

by Jenner, M

  “We’ll never carry these climbing. Leave them outside the door, near the railings. I’ll climb up and drop down a rope, and we’ll pull them up – but first we need to deal with the three guards.” Ty was still angry about the two small chests and Sol’s refusal to explain them. He was beginning to suspect that they had been tricked.

  “What’s the best way?” Solomon asked.

  “I could probably sneak up on one and do some damage, but after that I’d really be depending on your backup,” Ty said, waiting to see if Solomon would step up to help solve the triple problem.

  “Could you attack one and get away without being hit?”

  “Of course. But two would chase after me straight away.”

  “Okay. Hit one, then run back round towards me. By that time I could do some crowd control, leaving just the last one for you to deal with?”

  “What about if I attack one with my crossbow and you do whatever it is you are going to do to another, then we both deal with the last?”

  “Sounds like a plan. Just try and do it quietly. We don’t want to wake the world,” Solomon replied.

  “Quiet is my middle name,” Ty said, leaping onto the rope.

  “I thought it was ‘The Rat’?” Solomon chuckled.

  Ty looked back at Solomon and gave a quick grin. He shimmied up the rope to the topmost level, and jumped off over the handrail. The three guards on the other side were still at their dice game, kneeling over the dice tray and watching the tumbling cubes intently. Ty looked over the railing and beckoned Solomon up.

  Solomon jumped for the rope. He didn’t manage it as smoothly and adroitly as Ty had done, but he managed to grasp the rope firmly and started climbing up. Ty gave Solomon a thumbs-up, and got a nod back in reply.

  Ty squatted low, and slowly moved round towards the guards. Just before the arc of the handrail, where he was still not quite in view, he pulled out his small crossbow and cocked a bolt. It was a small enough crossbow to fit inside a thief’s cloak, but powerful enough to render crippling damage in the right hands. Add hemlock poison to the arrowheads and it was certain death, but without the hemlock Ty would have to trust to his aim.

  Ty held the crossbow to his chest and took a deep breath. As he breathed out, he leaned forward and fired a bolt into the threesome. It struck the furthest guard in the collarbone and threw him backwards to the floor, reeling in agony. The other two guards jumped up and grabbed their weapons, which were leaning up against the wall next to them.

  Solomon saw Ty’s attack, and wriggled a foot or two up the rope to get a better view of his prey. Wrapping his legs around the lift rope, he extended his staff, pointing it at an orc.

  “Blaxon forchaloo!” His shout was accompanied by a burst of white light from the end of his staff, aimed towards one of the guards. The ball of energy stuck the guard straight in the face, and he immediately dropped his weapon, bringing both hands up to his face and shrieking in pain. Still running but now directionless and unable to see, he screamed blindly straight towards the handrail.

  Ty dropped the crossbow and drew his daggers. The last orc advanced, raising his sword to shoulder height. Ty, watching every movement the orc made, braced himself as the sword swung downwards; at the last instant he rolled to the orc’s right.

  The blow missed Ty’s left shoulder by mere inches, and the sword crashed against the floor. Ty rolled and stood up, lashing with his dagger at his opponent’s ribs, but the orc was too quick. He parried the attack with a swing of his sword, sending Ty’s dagger flying down the walkway floor.

  Ty stood with his last remaining dagger in his left hand. The orc lunged forward; Ty barely managed to sidestep the blow, slicing the orc’s arm with his dagger as he did, but his strike cost him his balance. Falling down to one knee, his back against the wall, this time he feared the worst. Relentless, the orc raised his sword once more to deliver the killing blow.

  But just at that moment, the screaming orc, blinded by Solomon’s magic, plunged into the handrail. With his hands still covering his face as he screamed, his forward momentum carried him over the railing. He plummeted through the cavernous central emptiness of the tower to his death, his screams waking every orc in Sanorgk.

  The orc above Ty was distracted momentarily by the commotion, giving Ty just enough time to roll, spring to his feet, and prepare himself to attack. The orc lunged, but Ty was ready. He dodged under the blow and thrust his dagger into the orc’s stomach. Without pausing, he ran to retrieve his other dagger. The orc dropped to his knees, then rolled over, both hands clutching Ty’s dagger. Ty dashed back to the orc brandishing his retrieved dagger. Without hesitation, he forced the blade through the orc’s eye socket and into his brain. The orc twitched and was still.

  Ty looked around for Solomon. He had climbed over the railing, but stood there frozen with fear, watching the fight.

  “Thanks for the help!” Ty shouted as he pulled his dagger from the orc’s eye socket.

  “But… but…” Solomon stuttered.

  “But what, exactly? The plan was for both of us to take on the third, not just me. If that orc hadn’t gone over the railing I’d be dead!” Ty snarled, wiping his daggers on the dead orc’s leather armour.

  “It was all over so soon! Anyway, we haven’t got time to argue – look.” Solomon pointed at the lift ropes, both rising.

  “‘Be quiet,’ you said,” Ty said sarcastically.

  “I didn’t know he was going to run blindly over the edge! He could have just as easily run into the wall, or just stayed where he was,” Solomon argued, pulling up the backpacks from the level below.

  Still shaking his head, Ty ran to the big window and looked out at the ledge below. “The window, Sol,” Ty said, “it’s our only hope.” He looked over the smashed handrail and added, “And we’d better be quick, too!” Without waiting for Sol’s response, Ty turned to the dead orc and picked up his sword. Taking a step back, he hurled the sword through the window, glass flying inside and out. Ty used his dagger to knock out the remaining pieces of glass, and hastily threw his backpack on.

  While Ty was frenziedly working on their escape route, Solomon asked, “What if we cut the lift ropes?”

  “No time,” Ty said. “Plus we’d be lucky to cut through even one. They’re thick, and they’re moving too fast. Come on!”

  Ty scrambled up onto the ledge, Solomon following close behind him. Looking around for their next move, they realized there was no escape, just one huge drop. They stood on a windowsill with no way up or down. They could see the mountains all around, and the lights from the little huts below them seemed like stars flickering in the night’s sky. The soft moonlight flowed over them and through the smashed window.

  Ty looked back inside. “…I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try cutting the ropes,” he said.

  “No time!” Solomon echoed Ty’s earlier words, pulling out one of the scrolls tucked into his belt. “I knew these would come in handy,” he added as he unrolled it.

  “Be quick – I can see the top of the lift! What is it?” Ty asked.

  “Scrolls of Featherfall. When I say ‘jump,’ jump straight up, as hard and as high as you can,” Solomon ordered. Ty swallowed hard and nodded.

  “Flex Foucam Folly,” Solomon shouted. With that, a red light covered them both, swirling and circling around them, then disappeared as quickly as it had come.

  “Now… jump!” he shouted, and Ty jumped.

  The feeling was incredible – he felt he was floating like a feather, drifting on the night air towards the side of the mountain. The wind rushed against his face as he looked back at the tower; he could see figures at the window, gesturing wildly.

  They drifted for a good sixty seconds, then Solomon shouted, “Brace yourself!” above the noise of the rushing wind.

  Ty saw the mountain looming ever larger as he floated slowly towards it. They came to rest some fifty feet above ground level on the mountainside. Small stones scattered and fell as they got their footin
g.

  “Look down there,” Solomon said, pointing to a small ledge below them. He jumped again. The spell was still working and he landed on the ledge with ease; Ty followed. The ledge led inwards to a small cave, just big enough for the two of them to sit comfortably. Once inside Ty turned to Solomon, grinning.

  “That was by far the strangest thing I have ever done. It felt like I was floating, flying, and falling,” he said.

  “Me too. I had heard about it, but never done it.”

  “How long does it last?” Ty asked, crawling over on all fours to peer over the ledge towards the many small towers below.

  “Not sure. Why?” Solomon replied.

  “We need to rescue the others. My guess is they’re in one of those small huts,” Ty said as he stared at the ground below. Then in one smooth motion he spun round and brought his dagger to Solomon’s throat.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Solomon squawked, dropping his staff and raising his hands.

  “You can’t trust anybody, Sol,” Ty said, stony-faced. “Now tell me about these chests.”

  “Okay, okay, I’ll explain,” Solomon said, his eyes crossing as he tried to focus on the dagger at his throat.

  Ty withdrew the blade a few inches. “Yes. I think you should,” he answered.

  Solomon took a deep breath. “Well, remember the thief in the marketplace?”

  “The apple thief? Yes, why?”

  “That was me,” Solomon said with a smile.

  Ty sat back and thought for a moment. “I knew I recognised you from somewhere when we met,” he said, “I just couldn’t place you.”

  This revelation put Solomon in a completely different light, and Ty was thinking hard while Solomon talked. “We needed a couple of thieves to retrieve our chests,” he continued. “We knew the orcs would have them here, and we knew only a talented thief could have located them.” As he talked, Solomon lifted a chest from his pack and unwrapped it.

  “It’s starting to make sense now,” Ty nodded.

  Solomon placed the chest on the cave floor.

  “I thought these were magically locked?”

  “No, magically protected from damage,” Solomon answered as he placed four fingers on four separate gems. He pushed them all at once and the lid clicked open.

  “Ingenious,” Ty observed.

  Solomon carefully opened the lid and Ty peered in.

  “It’s an egg!” he exclaimed angrily. “We risked everything for a damn egg?”

  “No, not just any ‘damn eggs,’ two white dragon eggs! Ty, you don’t understand – these are possibly the last two in Bodisha!”

  “Where is the mother dragon?” Ty asked after a tension-filled pause.

  “She nests in the mountains northwest of Tonilla, why?”

  “Because that’s where we are taking them, not back to Conn for pets.”

  “You think he wants them for pets? They won’t be pets, man! They’ll be trained by the dragonriders and used in the great wars against the orcs, not pets!”

  “I don’t care! I am not sending the last two white dragons in Bodisha to their deaths!” Ty said angrily.

  “You’re more worried about two animals than the orc army overrunning Bodisha and enslaving us all?” Solomon asked incredulously.

  “The king does not need two dragons to defeat an army of half-brained orcs!”

  “It doesn’t matter what he needs, it’s what he wants,” Solomon argued.

  “Well, what the king wants and what the king gets just might be two completely different things. If you want to go back and crawl up to your precious king and tell him Ty said that, please do!”

  “You would go against your king? Take the side of a dragon before your king?”

  “Listen, Solomon – if that is even your name?” Ty said scornfully.

  “Yes, Solomon is my name. I never wanted to lie or keep secrets from any of you. My orders are to get the eggs back to Conn. I follow orders and I do as my King says.”

  Ty stared at Solomon for a few seconds. “Well, Solomon,” he said, “he isn’t my king, and I take orders from no man.”

  “Of course he’s your king!”

  “Who says so? Who said he has the right to tell you or me what to do?”

  Solomon gaped at Ty, thinking about the thief’s words. “That may be so,” he finally managed, ‘but these dragons belong to King Moriak.”

  “There you go again, Sol. They don’t belong to anybody! They are dragons and they were here long before that fool King Moriak!”

  “Yes, but –”

  “No buts, Sol. He doesn’t own the mountains or the forests, nor dragons or men! We are free, and those who follow a fool king are bigger fools.”

  “But who would we follow? Who should we –”

  “Solomon,” Ty said, placing a hand on his shoulder, “you will follow your own dreams and make your own legends. You don’t need a king to tell you what to do. You are a free man, make your own decisions in life. Life isn’t a destination – it’s a journey, and one that you must travel.” Solomon bowed his head, and Ty continued, “On my journey with my decisions, I will take the dragons back to where they rightfully belong. These dragons are sacred animals. They shouldn’t be enslaved by humans.”

  There was a silence; Solomon stared down into his lap while Ty waited. Finally Solomon raised his head and nodded.

  “OK, I’m with you. What shall we do?”

  Ty flashed Solomon a grin, then tucked his dagger away and dropped to all fours again, looking down at the huts below.

  “First we need to find out which hut the others are in, then get them out somehow,” Ty said. Then he felt a stunningly heavy blow to his head, and his world went black.

  Solomon leaned over Ty’s limp body. “You’re right, Ty. You just can’t trust anybody.”

  He dragged Ty inside the cave and stripped off the halfling’s cloak, wrapping it around his own shoulders. He pulled a tiny box from his pack and opened it. Inside was a scrap of tissue-thin paper. Solomon cupped the tissue in his hands and, bringing them close to his face, whispered into them.

  When he opened his hands, a tiny bird flew out and away into the night sky. Solomon smiled. “Fly, my baby, fly.”

  He tied up his backpack again and swung it over his shoulder, then jumped from the ledge of the little cave down to another outcropping a few feet below. He knew the Featherfall spell would fade out soon so he had to move fast, jumping from ledge to ledge and away from the tower. After a while the commotion from the tower got quieter, and Sol knew he needed a good head start to keep ahead of any following orcs.

  Solomon was only about ten feet above the ground when he spotted a lone orc below him, walking alongside a limping horse. Solomon saw his chance.

  He grabbed the biggest rock he could lift, and waited until the orc was directly below him. Then he jumped, smashing the rock into the orc’s head as he landed. The orc fell instantly and Solomon quickly down and seized the reins before the horse could bolt. He touched the tip of his staff to the horse’s foreleg and muttered a few arcane words as a soothing pale green light swirled briefly around the hoof the horse had been favoring. Then he jumped into the saddle, leaned forward to whisper into the horse’s ear, and kicked it into a gallop. The horse ran like the wind, faster than it had ever gone before.

  Solomon rode towards the mountains due north, searching out the path that had brought them here.

  Kern woke up to the noise of shouting from outside their hut; he heard footsteps running back and forth along with sound of horses’ hooves.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Galandrik asked, startled into wakefulness.

  “I don’t know. Sounds like the orcs are going to war,” Kern answered.

  Jarrow looked out through the bars. “Something’s badly wrong here,” he muttered as hordes of orcs rushed by.

  An old man led an orc horse past their cell door. “Jumbo!” Jarrow shouted, recognizing the man. “Come over here.”

 
The old man looked around, making sure no orcs were watching, and quickly moved over to the door, leading the mount behind him.

  “What is it, Jarrow? Be quick before you get me whipped!” Jumbo had to shout to be heard over the noise and commotion.

  “What the hell is going on out there? Are they going to war?” Jarrow shouted back.

  “Yes, against two thieves!” Jumbo replied.

  Kern heard the comment and his blood chilled. He joined Jarrow at the door.

  “What do you mean, old man?” Kern demanded.

  “Apparently the two thieves that were brought in yesterday killed a few orc guards, stole some of the queen’s gold, and disappeared into the night!” Jumbo answered with a laugh. “Good for them, I say! Now I must go, here comes a guard,” and he quickly walked on, dragging the horse behind him.

  Kern sat back on his straw bed. “I can’t believe that good-for-nothing, cheating little thief has left us here to die!” he raged.

  “He could hardly have helped us,” Nuran answered.

  “But he could have tried,” Galandrik chimed in, agreeing with Kern.

  “Typical of him, to steal some gold as well. I should have known better than to trust that toad,” Kern said, still furious.

  Galandrik sighed. “Best we work out a plan to escape ourselves, then,” he said, lying back on his bed.

  “I agree. Wasting energy moaning about it is not going to help us any right now. We’re digging tomorrow,” Nuran said as he turned over in his bed.

  “They’re right, Kern,” Jarrow offered. “Your friends may have deserted you, but your time will come. Now get some rest. Remember,” he reiterated, “a weak slave is a dead slave.”

  Kern lay on his bed, cursing the day he’d met Ty ‘The Rat’ Quickpick.

  All the times I helped him, he thought, and his stomach twisted with helpless rage.

  Chapter Eleven: The Headache

  “Where do you think they went?” Joli asked.

  “I don’t know, but if we follow this path between Gatewood and Blame down towards the Norse Keep, we can’t be far away from them. We may even meet them coming out of the forest to the south.”