Path of the Flame
The Dragon Thief Book 1
D.K. Holmberg
Copyright © 2021 by D.K. Holmberg
Cover art by Damonza.com
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Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Author’s Note
Series by D.K. Holmberg
Chapter One
It was almost as if Ishantil, the volcano deep in the heart of the jungle, had grown angry. Its rumbling sent the trees shaking in the humid air. The jungle’s density made it difficult for Ty to see much of anything, but he used some of that darkness to his advantage, as it camouflaged his presence. It wouldn’t do for the king’s men to know just yet that he was hiding there.
Ty pressed himself up against one of the smooth rubal trees, inhaling the pungent aroma but trying to keep his focus instead on what he could hear through the trees. The path wound only a few paces in front of him, but it would be difficult to see through the trees even a few paces away given his location within the jungle—unless someone was looking for him. In addition to the darkness, his dappled green cloak helped conceal him.
They should have been there by now. He’d followed the king’s men for the better part of the last hour, tracking them from deep in the jungle as they made their way back toward the city of Zarinth on the edge of the jungle. They hadn’t seen him—Ty was far too skilled to be caught by any of the usual soldiers—and the more difficult part of the job would be coming soon.
A flicker of shadows appeared. In the jungle, that could be many things, though he didn’t expect to see any wildlife this close to the path. For the most part, the wildlife within the jungle avoided any place occupied by humankind. Birds would swoop down occasionally, but that was rare. Sometimes the long-tailed velum—creatures with furry bodies, hands and feet like a child’s, and enormous wide eyes that seemed far more knowing than they should be—would swing through the trees overhead, but they generally avoided the path as well. Too many had been hunted over the years as a prize for those deeper within the kingdom who believed their meat a delicacy.
Ty remained in place, and he could hear the soft murmuring before he saw where it came from. Voices.
The king’s men had no reason to conceal their passing. They didn’t fear anyone watching or tracking them, and they certainly didn’t think there would be anyone near enough to steal from them. What fool would dare risk the ghost king’s wrath by stealing? Others carting the expedition’s finds had been left alone, but this one had no guards, making it a reasonable target.
Ty slipped behind the tree as the party approached. There were three of them, probably enough to make them believe that the dragon relics they’d gone after were safe. All he needed was to see what they carried with them. When he did, he could decide whether the risk was worth it. He thought it was. Given the rumors out of the mountain about the kind of relics that had been found, he felt certain he would find something of value.
“I’m ready for a cold bath, and maybe a mug of ale,” one of the men said.
From where he remained perched at the base of the tree, he could make out the man’s features. He had dark hair and carried his wide-brimmed hat in hand rather than wearing it, even though most who ventured into the jungle would have it on their head. Some sort of head covering was necessary to prevent the spiders and other creepy crawlies from climbing down one’s back.
“There’s no good ale in Zarinth. You need to get closer to Holdan before you find anything of quality,” another of the men said. He was short and stocky, but at least he wore his hat. His long sword would probably be useless in the close confines of the jungle.
Not at all like the long-bladed dragon-bone dagger Ty carried. Something like that was far more functional. Fools out of Carn, the capital of the Neranl kingdom, liked to think swords could be used on anything and didn’t pay any mind to the fact that the preferred long blades they carried would get caught in vines or the underbrush, making it difficult to fight if it came down to it. The only thing those swords were good for was clearing the brush, though the Priests of the Flame in Zarinth made sure the path through the jungle to Ishantil remained cleared.
“I don’t even care about good ale,” the first man said. “After what we saw up there…”
His voice trailed off, and Ty found himself trying to squeeze a little bit closer, curious to hear about what they might have seen. He had known there was an expedition moving through the jungle, but hadn’t caught sight of them before now. It was too difficult for him to try to attack the expedition higher in the mountain anyway—it would be too well guarded—which was why he had thought he might be able to catch them on the downslope, figure out what they had found, and relieve them of it.
“We’re not going to talk about what was up there,” the pudgy man said. “Finish the job. Get the damn bones down to the city where the king can get them moved. We don’t have much time anyway. The scholars made that clear.”
“You think we can trust the scholars?” the first man asked.
“Scholars. Priests. I don’t care. They are all saying the same thing.”
Ty tried to scoot forward to see who was talking, but couldn’t hear well enough. What were the scholars and priests saying?
The others surrounded the man who was talking, but there was something soft and weak to his voice. Maybe that was just his imagination. Too many of the king’s men came out here thinking they were strong, but when they got into the jungle and had to deal with some of the creatures and insects, they panicked.
The ground trembled again.
The volcano had been far more active over the last week. Ever since the expedition had come, really. So far, Ty had only seen the activity surrounding the expedition; this was the first time he had managed to get close to some of the men who had actually gone to the dig site without having them surrounded by soldiers. It was his first opportunity to grab something.
He had no idea what to make of Ishantil trembling like that. It had often spewed some ash and smoke, making its presence known, but it had been a while since the volcano had erupted. Sometimes a flow of lava would make its way down the mountainside, celebrated by the Priests of the Flame, but it cooled down long before reaching Zarinth.
“Damn volcano,” the third man said, his voice quiet and tight. “I want to get out of here before it erupts.”
“We’ve got time, if you listen to the priests.”
The priests had said that the volcano will erupt?
If there was one thin
g Ty believed about the Priests of the Flame, it was that they seemed to know when the volcano would be more active. It was said that the priests had once even anticipated the last great eruption hundreds of years ago.
“I’d rather listen to the scholars than the priests.”
This came from the second man with his hat on his head; the pudgy one. He looked around as he walked, but Ty smiled tightly to himself, as he knew he was concealed in the shadows of the jungle. Even if the man had caught sight of him, he’d probably think it little more than his imagination, not that Ty had been stalking them.
“The damn fools think the Priests of the Flame keep them safe,” the first man said, wiping his arm over his forehead. A large welt had appeared on one temple, and Ty knew how a maccan beetle bite like that would fester. Better not to get bit in the first place, but if he was going to avoid wearing a hat, then the beetles could drop down from above and crawl on him.
He couldn’t hear much more of what they were talking about. If the priests and the scholars both thought Ishantil might erupt, shouldn’t that be something they shared with others in the city?
Unless it wasn’t a serious eruption.
Ty braced himself as the volcano trembled again, but it still sent him staggering, and he stumbled, stepping on a branch that cracked underneath his foot.
He hurriedly grabbed for a tree, wrapping his arms around it, hoping that none of the stupid insects would drop down on him and that there were no velum in the tree, but he was more worried about the men hearing him.
“What was that?” the man without the hat asked.
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“There was a sound.”
Ty should have been more careful. Especially knowing that the volcano was angry. He didn’t believe, as the priests did, that fire decided all things and that the volcano was one more aspect of that, but he had lived near Ishantil his entire life, and he had a healthy respect for the dangers that came from living so close to a volcano.
He watched the men. They started moving away from their small clearing, searching the trees for him.
“It’s probably one of those stupid velum,” the pudgy man said. “We saw them often enough on the expedition. Wouldn’t be too surprised if they’d also come down here.”
There were velum down here, though even Ty preferred to avoid them. They had a tendency to be unpredictable, and violent as well, though they typically left him alone. Then again, he was usually smart enough to avoid them.
“I wouldn’t mind dragging one of those back to the capital too. I bet something like that would fetch a pretty penny. Especially after the volcano erupts and burns them all up.”
“Would you be quiet?” Ty couldn’t see who spoke the time, but he had a harsh tone, one that sounded like he was used to command. “There’s something here.”
He had to be careful. He could hide in the jungle. He was certain of that. And he knew he could disappear if it came down to running, but that wasn’t what he wanted to do. His whole purpose for being here was to grab a few dragon remnants—bony remains of long-dead dragons. Maybe even more than a few, given the rumors coming out of the expedition. But if there were relics—the obsidian sculptures made by the ancients—they would be far more valuable.
Most of the items coming down from the peak had been guarded by the Dragon Touched. Ty had watched this group of soldiers head into the well-worn path, noted the absence of Dragon Touched, and figured it was his chance. But only if he could steal from them here. Once they reached the city, it would be too late.
Slipping along the trees, he looked up, worried that maybe the sound that had alerted them had come from a velum or tapin, not him. Even though they could be found there, it would surprise him if they made their presence known so close to the edge of the city. Most of the time, they knew to avoid the passing of the king’s men—most of the time.
He weaved a little farther ahead, moving out and around one of the trees, until he found himself fighting his way toward a small ravine. He swung on a long vine hanging down, using it to help him slip across to the other side. He hesitated upon landing there, as the action had made more noise than he had intended, and he had to ensure the king’s men didn’t hear his passing.
But he heard no other sound surrounding him, just his own breathing and the steady pounding of his heart.
He wasn’t too far off the path—still near enough that he would need to be careful to not draw them away toward him.
Slipping around another tree, he paused and looked through the dense underbrush, where the three men had positioned themselves around the footworn path. It wasn’t traveled nearly as often as the priests’ Path of the Flame, but there were more than a few hunters, traders, and even smugglers who ventured up alternative routes through the mountain and kept it cleared.
They had their backs to each other. One of them had his sword unsheathed and was moving slowly toward the trees.
Maybe they hadn’t heard him.
Could a velum be nearby?
Ty would’ve expected to have seen or heard it. Unless they had thought the sound he made was one of the velum. That might be better for him, after all.
Better still, one of the men had dropped his pack.
Now all he had to do was take advantage of the situation.
This wasn’t normally the way he would slip in and steal from the king, though there was a certain amusement that came with the idea of getting in while the men were distracted. Typically, he had to find the right moment, whether through deception or darkness, then steal. He hadn’t expected to have an opportunity to take the dragon relics, but if the Flame wanted to provide it for him, then who was he to ignore it?
Ty grabbed a length of fallen wood and crept closer to the path. The men were still distracted by whatever was taking place overhead, something he couldn’t quite see, and as he approached the path, he hurled the log and waited. It made just enough noise, as much as he had expected it to, and they turned toward it.
One of the men hollered and motioned with his sword. The other two started forward. It gave Ty a little space, not as much as he had hoped, but he thought he might be able to sneak in behind this man and grab whatever they had at their campsite.
He crept forward, staying low. The other men had gone into the jungle, disappearing, leaving only the one with the sword guarding the path and their belongings. As long as the man kept his back to him, Ty should be able to sneak in.
He found a small stone and tossed it into the trees.
The man with the sword headed toward the sound, buying Ty a little more time.
Not much, he suspected. He figured they would search the forest around them for a little while, come to the conclusion that they couldn’t see anything, and probably return to the path. If they weren’t familiar with navigating through the jungle, they might not venture too far anyway.
They had dropped the rest of their belongings. There was a pack, a bow with a quiver, which he thought foolish to leave behind, and a small handcart that they had somehow managed to drag up then down the mountain, several boxes stacked atop it.
He hurried over toward the boxes, reaching for one of them, when he heard voices coming back toward him.
He cursed under his breath.
Ty dropped down to the ground, grabbing for the pack, but it snagged on something.
He cursed again.
“There’s something out there,” one of the men said. “And we need to—”
“Quiet,” the harsh voice said.
This was the man with the sword.
They were getting closer, and here he was, still out in the open.
He grabbed for the pack again, trying to pull on it, but it wouldn’t come free.
What had it gotten snagged on?
He couldn’t spend the time looking.
He jerked again, and the pack ripped with a loud tear.
A glint of silvery stone dropped, and Ty grabbed it—a dragon claw, he realized—bef
ore darting back toward the trees. Another twig snapped beneath his feet, but by then he had reached the dense part of the jungle and backed closer to one of the other rubal trees.
“I heard something,” one of the men said.
“Look at the pack,” the harsh voice said.
They had discovered what he had done.
“Someone was here,” he said.
“We can’t know that it wasn’t those velum.”
“You think the velum come for dragon relics?”
Ty shrank deeper into the forest, wanting to retreat altogether but feeling as if he couldn’t get far enough away.
“There’s nothing here,” the soft voice said. It was the pudgier man. “Not that we can find without getting too deep into the forest. Unless you want to do that.”
“Get the cart moving.”
He heard a few grumbled comments, then the steady sound of the cart moving down the trail, a soft, rhythmic thumping. One of the men grunted at one point, and Ty tried sneaking along, thinking he might find a way through the jungle to catch up to them, but he’d already revealed his hand.
So much for being the skilled thief he thought he was.
He waited for a moment, then froze as he started forward.
The man holding the sword stood framed in the jungle.
Thankfully, Ty was dressed for the jungle. His dark green clothing should blend in, but he didn’t know if the man could still see him.
“Are you coming?” one of the other men shouted.
“There’s something here. Maybe it’s even him.”
There was a moment of silence, but then somebody laughed.
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