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

by Jenner, M

  Nuran and Jarrow followed their orcs around the far side of the barn and hid behind a wagon, watching as the guards looked round the end wall. Though they couldn’t know what the orcs were seeing, they guessed it was Galandrik and Ty defeating the other orcs, because after these two guards had crouched and watched for a few seconds, they began quietly backing away. Nuran kicked a shovel on the ground and Jarrow gladly picked it up as the two orcs retreated ever closer.

  Nuran watched as the two orcs turned and ran – straight towards them. He gave a nod to Jarrow and they waited until the orcs were level with them, then pounced. Nuran’s sword beheaded the closest in one swing. Jarrow swung his shovel at the legs of the second, who immediately tripped, pitched forward, and dropped the sword he was carrying. Standing above the orc, who was crawled frantically on his stomach reaching out for his lost sword, Jarrow brought the shovel down into the exposed back of the orc’s neck. His first blow only managed to make a slight cut in the crawling orc’s flesh, so down he thrust again and again, dark blood splattering on the shovel until the orc was beheaded. Jarrow threw the shovel down in the dirt.

  “This way,” Nuran said, running past Jarrow towards the back of the barn. When they turned the corner they could see Galandrik dragging an orc by the arm. They ran over and helped uncover Ty from the pile of orc corpses.

  Kern joined the group and rushed everyone into the barn, “Quickly, everybody mount up. We need to be gone before any patrolling orcs alert the world.”

  “Agreed, Kern, but should we cause some chaos first?” Nuran suggested.

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Fire. The wagons outside are full of fresh hay,” Nuran said as he led a horse from its stall. “If we set them alight, I’m sure the horses would do the rest?”

  “I like it!” Galandrik smiled.

  “Are all paladins as evil as you?” Ty quipped.

  “Evil? I am good, killing evil!” Nuran answered. “Now bring more horses.”

  Keeping as quiet as possible, they quickly attached two horses to each cart, including each of the ore carts. The horses were surprisingly good-natured, and didn’t offer any resistance. Aside from two patrolling orcs – both dispatched silently in less than a second – everything went quietly and smoothly. When their mounts and the carts were ready, Nuran grabbed a handful of hay. The others moved around to the side of the barn so they could mount up while staying out of sight from any orc tent.

  After a thumbs up from Kern, Nuran raced over to the metal fire bin next to the orc’s card table. It stood waist-high, circular and filled with wood and coals. The bottom had holes cut all around, allowing air in to feed the fire. A crude tin container hung above the bin, but its contents were anybody’s guess.

  Nuran dipped the handful of hay into the fire bin, and it lit immediately. Keeping low, he ran over to the carts and lit the bundles of hay. It was only moments before the panicked horses were racing through the orc tents, trailing the fiery carts behind them. Before Nuran ran to join the others, he kicked over the fire bin, sending hot coals and embers into the barn. The large wooden pillars that supported the front roof section were ablaze before he had even mounted his waiting horse.

  “Go!” Kern shouted, and they set off at a wild gallop along the edge of the camp, towards the eastern path. The camp was a welter of absolute chaos and noise, shouts and screams. Tents were burning as the horse and carts ran wildly through the camp; some orcs were trying to douse the flames while others ran to stop the horses. The barn was engulfed in flames and this sent off the horses harnessed to the three ore-filled carts, trampling orcs and tents as they fled the heat and flames of the barn.

  No one noticed the prisoners escaping.

  “There it is!” Nuran shouted as he pointed at an opening in the East Mountains. Two orcs stood guard at the entrance, distracted and alarmed by the sounds and sights coming from the garrison camp. The party’s horses bore down on them from out of the darkness, but they heard the hoofbeats too late. Before they could draw their weapons, Kern’s sword had decapitated one; Galandrik’s axe split the skull of the other.

  They flew past the bodies and into the tunnel. Gouged out of the pure stone of the mountain, it was wide enough for a cart to travel through – easily wide enough for two mounted men to ride abreast. Their pace slackened a bit, as they didn’t want to overtax the horses, but they kept moving steadily onward.

  Chapter Twelve: Old Friends

  Conn sat in his study, talking to Belton, his faithful friend and companion.

  “Any news of Solomon and the dragon eggs?” Belton asked.

  “No, but it’s only been just over a week, so it’s early days,” Conn said, looking across his cluttered desk at his friend. Scrolls, parchments, and random pieces of paper lay strewn all over his table.

  “Where were King Moriak’s men taking those eggs, when the orcs stumbled across them?” Belton asked Conn.

  “To be sacrificed to the gods,” Conn answered coldly.

  There was a small silence. Belton said tentatively, “I support King Moriak one hundred percent, but I… I just don’t know if I agree with the deliberate extinction of white dragons, just to appease the gods.”

  “You know how ill he is; he thinks it is the ultimate sacrifice. He thinks the gods will bless him with eternal life or something. And don’t let anybody hear you say you disagree with anything the king does, or he’ll have your head on a pole before you can say ‘dragon’.”

  “He may be ill, but I don’t think it’s any sickness of the body that’s making him kill dragons.”

  “Something is twisting his mind?”

  “I think it’s his son, Hordas,” Belton ventured. “He’s evil, that’s all there is to it. Rumours are he fills the king’s head with these pathetic stories about gods and killing dragons.”

  “Maybe he does, but that doesn’t change things. You just can’t speak against him.”

  “Still doesn’t make it right, either.”

  “Listen, friend, I am not saying I agree – but it’s the king’s wishes, and what he wishes for, he gets. It’s too far gone now anyway. We’ve killed every white dragon from here to hell, and those last two will go the same way, whether it be the king’s wish or his son’s. They only kill the farmers’ livestock, anyway. They’re vermin, a bloody nuisance!” Conn argued, as he opened the study window to let in some fresh morning air.

  “Nonsense and you know it! They were here long before we were, and all we have done is hunted them. I’m damn sure they killed sheep, cows, and wild horses before we stuck a fence round the beasts and declared ourselves their owners,” Belton said, clearly angry.

  “We don’t know if these are the last two existing,” Conn said placatingly. “Just the last two we can find.”

  “Well, that’s okay then,” Belton said sarcastically.

  “I know, friend – it’s not right… but that’s life,” Conn said, putting an end to the conversation.

  Just then, Solomon’s messenger-bird landed on the windowsill, then fluttered into the office and onto Conn’s cluttered desk. He gently scooped the bird up into his hands, wrapping his spindly fingers round it, and held it up to his ear.

  “Well, my friend, I think you have talked the dragons up,” Conn said, opening his hands and sprinkling bits of paper, like tiny feathers, onto the floor.

  “What’s the news?” Belton asked.

  “Solomon has the eggs, and he rides back. He should be here in four days. Kern and the others are dead,” Conn said rising to gaze out of his study window.

  “That boy is full of surprises,” Belton said, standing up to join Conn.

  “Aye, he is; he has come up in leaps and bounds. I just wish my sister were here to have seen his progress,” Conn said.

  “Yes, such a shame. Childbirth is a cruel thing; one second giving life, the next moment life taken away,” Belton said, placing a hand on Conn’s shoulder in consolation.

  “Very true,” Conn agreed with
a sigh. He picked a little piece of tissue paper from his pocket and cupped it in his hands. He whispered into his grip, then opened his hands to release a little green-speckled bird which flew off and away, into the air. “Fly, my baby. Fly,” he whispered.

  The party slowed their pace in the tunnel, confident that no orcs had followed them. Kern turned in his saddle to speak to Ty.

  “So what happened with Sol then?” the ranger asked.

  “Well, remember that apple thief we helped in the marketplace?”

  “Yes, the one you helped that landed us in prison. Kind of hard to forget,” Kern laughed.

  “He and Solomon are one and the same.”

  “What are you saying, it was all planned?”

  “Yes,” Ty said bitterly. “There is no ‘king’s treasure’ or one thousand gold in reward. Never was.”

  “I told you! What did I say from the start?” Galandrik exclaimed.

  “You did, friend, indeed you did,” Kern sighed. “So what was it he wanted us to do, then, if there were no chests full of gold?”

  “Oh no, there were two chests; we found them in the Black Tower. They were just not full of gold,” Ty explained.

  “I don’t understand, to be honest,” Kern said as he shook his head.

  “In each chest was a white dragon’s egg. Maybe the last two in Bodisha.”

  “Bloody dragon’s eggs?” Kern said, surprised. “So we travelled all this way for bloody dragon’s eggs?!”

  “King Moriak wanted them to use against the orcs in the great war, apparently,” Ty said with a shrug of his shoulders.

  “Strange, I thought dragons took years and years to mature,” Nuran chipped in.

  “No idea,” Ty said. “I’m just telling you what Solomon told me, before knocking me out and stealing my cloak.” He ran his hand over the lump on the back of his head.

  “Solomon knocked you out?” Galandrik asked with a doubtful chuckle.

  “Yes, you want to feel the lump? I really didn’t think he had it in him.”

  “So what are you going to do now, then?” Jarrow asked of no one in particular.

  “Who is he?” Ty asked, frowning at Jarrow.

  “I am Jarrow. I have been a slave to the orcs for the last two months, and you have released me from that life. I am very grateful for what you’ve done for me.”

  “Don’t mention it.”

  “As we all are, Ty,” Kern said awkwardly, then hurried on, “and the answer to your question, Jarrow, is I have no idea.”

  “Head to Forkvain and think about it,” Galandrik said.

  “Well, we can’t catch Solomon up, and I wouldn’t think Conn wants us dead now that we’ve done his dirty work,” Kern mused. “So it looks to me like we are free to do whatever we want, to be honest.”

  “We are officially free!” Galandrik cheered.

  “True,” Ty said dryly, “apart from the five hundred crisped orcs who want us dead, we should be fine!” He sighed, weary from the night’s exertions. “Let’s get to Forkvain, like Galandrik said, and sleep on it. Maybe we can find work.”

  “Have we any money to buy a beer?” Galandrik asked.

  “Yes, I took the liberty of borrowing some gold,” Ty said. “I wanted to take a sackful, but Solomon convinced me that Conn’s reward would be just as profitable. He really was good,” Ty admitted ruefully.

  “I bet he led us into the Norse Keep on purpose, so the orcs would take us to the tower,” Galandrik said.

  “Probably. They had it completely worked out, I guess,” Kern said. “But let’s just forget it now and get to Forkvain.” He glanced over his shoulder, looking back down the tunnel.

  “What I don’t understand is why he knocked you out,” Galandrik queried. “Why not just let us accompany him back to Conn? It didn’t matter to us whether it was gold or dragon’s eggs in the chests.”

  “Probably so they never had to cough up the gold for your reward,” Nuran said.

  “Well, actually I think that could have been my fault,” Ty admitted.

  “Go on,” Kern smiled. “This should be good.”

  “Well, I told him that we were going to take the eggs back to the mountains north of Tonilla and give them back to the mother dragon,” Ty elaborated.

  “That is very honourable of you, sir,” Nuran said soberly.

  “Thank you. I was so angry about being tricked and having no reward, I just thought ‘sod Conn – we’ll do what’s right, deny him and the King’s wishes, and hand the eggs back.’ But all it got me was a lump on the head,” Ty said, rubbing the sore knot again.

  They proceed down the tunnel until it came to a dead end. They dismounted and looked around, Ty checking for any signs of hidden levers or switches, but no one found anything promising.

  Then Galandrik said, “Feel this, there is a draft here.”

  Nuran walked over and held out a hand. “You’re right,” he said. “I think this is a door more than a wall. Let’s give it a push.” He placed both hands on the wall and planted his feet. Jarrow, Ty, and Kern all squeezed in to help.

  “One, two, three… push!” Nuran ordered.

  They strained to dislodge the giant stone block. At first their efforts seemed fruitless, but then they could feel it starting to move. They managed to push the block just enough for them – and the horses – to squeeze through the opening. They could feel the wind through the doorway and stepped out into the open air. They found themselves in an open field; apart from a few scattered trees, the land was empty, just miles of lush green grass.

  “I think we’d better keep on moving,” Nuran said.

  “Yes, we kicked a massive ant’s nest back there,” Kern agreed. “I don’t think it’ll be long before they put out the flaming tents and want to know whose boot it was.”

  The party moved on, heading east towards the town of Forkvain. Ty shared out what little food he had taken, and they ate as they rode, thinking it better to keep moving except for brief stops for water and rest for the horses. Morning came and went; still they pressed on, though they were confident that no orcs had followed them.

  Eventually they saw Forkvain in the distance, and the mood changed.

  “Thank the gods for that,” Galandrik said into the silence.

  “Aye, I am starving,” Kern admitted.

  “Me too,” the paladin added. “And to have a bath would be a delight,” he said, lifting his arm and sniffing.

  “I could sink a pint of mead!” Jarrow laughed.

  “Excuse me, but as far as I am aware you lot haven’t got a pot to piss in between you. So how exactly are you paying for food, baths, and mead?” Ty asked as they trotted along.

  “I have some money in Forkvain,” Jarrow replied.

  “You know I’m good for it!” Galandrik chimed in with a wink. Ty revelled in the fact that he was the only one with money, that they would have to rely on him to pay. They rode on towards Forkvain, spirits rising.

  Forkvain was a large city, nearly as big as Raith. A massive wall surrounded the city, as was common for most towns and cities in Bodisha. Orc attacks were a constant threat, especially in the eastern lands. Forkvain catered to adventurers and traders, boasting shops selling weapons, armour, magical items, and adventuring equipment. A small marketplace with a row of workshops at one end completed the town. The militia’s presence was greater here than in other places around Bodisha. The King’s Army trained to the south of Forkvain, and this town served as the new recruits’ first training post.

  Kern rapped on the massive gate with his fist. The wooden slide in the door opened and a set of eyes peered out.

  “What’s your business in Forkvain?” the voice behind the door asked.

  Before Kern had time to answer, Jarrow stepped forward and in a confident and assured voice said, “Lord Jarrow and his companions wish to enter,” as he looked through the door slit.

  “Well, why didn’t you say?” the voice replied.

  “Lord Jarrow?” Kern asked, raising
his eyebrows.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Nuran asked.

  “You didn’t ask,” Jarrow replied, walking his horse through the open gate and into the town.

  “Now there’s a turn-up for the books – someone more important than you,” Ty said as he moved past Kern.

  They rode through the town’s streets until they reached an inn called The Bull; they tied the horses up outside and entered. It was a large establishment, but quite empty. They settled in at a round table. Jarrow spoke to the innkeeper, then joined the others. Five flagons of ale were soon brought to the table, and before long the table teemed with bowls, plates, and cutlery. The barmaids scurried about bringing trays of roast pig, breads and cheeses, a saucepan full of chicken stew, and fruit.

  “Tuck in, lads, this one is on me,” Jarrow said. Their relaxed chatter fell silent as they devoted their attention to the first real food any of them had had in days.

  After they’d all eaten their fill, Kern leaned back into his chair. “Where shall we start, Lord Jarrow?”

  Jarrow chuckled at his remark. “I’m not a Lord. I don’t wish to be one and I have no land,” he explained. “All it signifies is that I have acquired some antiquities on my travels and amassed some wealth, but I am no Lord. The title is merely honorary, and was given to me when I donated some gold to Forkvain, that’s all.”

  “So how did you end up in the orc mines?” Nuran asked.

  “I was ambushed just south of here, overrun as I rode,” Jarrow replied.

  “That’s what happened to us, overran,” Galandrik said. “Couldn’t fight that many, plus it was a trap.”

  “How long has that tower been there?” Ty cut in.

  “Not long; it’s the iron ore. They mine for it, make the weapons, then ferry them to whatever war they need them for,” Jarrow said, picking up a chunk of bread and stepping away from the table. He walked over to the innkeeper and they had a brief and whispered conversation. Jarrow shook the innkeeper’s hand, and returned to the table.