The Dragonspire Chronicles Omnibus 1

by James E. Wisher

The guide took a step, but Balinda stopped him with a single hard look. “Not you lot, just the one that saw Rondo.”

  The big man shrugged and made room for Moz. Roland must have been confident if he agreed to see Moz without his muscle along. This meeting might prove more interesting than Moz first thought.

  He followed Balinda down a long hall carpeted in red with polished wood walls. There was no art or anything to break up the paneling. No small tables held knickknacks. The passage was far more utilitarian than the giant mansion suggested from the outside. It was like opening an oyster expecting a pearl and finding nothing but sand.

  The hall led to an open door beyond which was a square room with a table and two chairs. A man around Moz’s age sat behind the desk. His hair was dark and slicked back, his cheeks sunk in revealing the shape of his skull. He dressed in a plain tan tunic. It was like someone took a human being and sucked everything kind out of him leaving only the bitter dregs behind. He looked enough like Rondo that Moz had no doubt he faced Roland Tegan.

  Standing beside Roland was another man, this one tall and lean with hard blue eyes that assessed Moz in a second. A long, curved sword hung at his waist and Moz had no doubt he knew how to use it. Whoever he was, he presented more of a threat than all the mercenaries that remained outside.

  “You’ve seen my son,” Roland said.

  “I have. He wanted to hire me to guide him through the Vast Swamp on a ruin-hunting expedition. I turned him down.”

  “Why?” Roland asked.

  “Because ruin hunting is a good way to end up dead. Your son either didn’t find the ruin or got lucky because he got out of the swamp alive. Then he and his mercenaries killed a farmer and his wife and tried to kidnap their daughter. I rescued her and killed the mercenaries.”

  “Can’t have been worth much,” the swordsman said.

  “They weren’t,” Moz said. “Rondo fled. Where he is now I couldn’t say.”

  “Are you now hunting my son to bring him to justice?” Roland’s voice held no emotion as he spoke, but something in his eyes warned Moz to be careful how he answered.

  “What I want to know is why he was so interested in the daughter and whether he was working for someone else. I’ve been following his back trail, trying to figure out where he came from. I tracked a mercenary named Koltin here. Never would have guessed this was his hometown.”

  “Our interests may align in this matter,” Roland said. “I want Rondo returned home. Bring him back to me and I’ll make it worth your while. I will also offer my solemn promise that he will remain here and cause no more trouble.”

  “That works for me,” Moz said. “Can you tell me anything about where he went when he ran away?”

  “Nothing certain, but he was obsessed with seeing the city of Blinder. He was always overfond of books and he read about the city’s great library. That’s the best information I can offer.”

  Moz nodded. It wasn’t much, but it gave him somewhere to look. Maybe Diamond Point wasn’t going to be a complete bust after all.

  Chapter 21

  After leaving the trading post, Yaz and Brigid rode hard for the rest of the day, made a cold camp, and set out again at first light. Noon had just passed and he hadn’t seen any signs of pursuit. The constant checking over his shoulder was giving Yaz a crick in his neck.

  “Will you please stop that?” Brigid said after he looked back for the third time in a minute. “I’m sure if someone comes up behind us, we’ll notice.”

  “Sorry, it’s almost a reflex.”

  “What are we going to do, Yaz? Anywhere we go, we’ll have people looking for us, hunting us. Where will we be safe?”

  “Back home.” Yaz had been thinking about it for a while and there was really no other option. As soon as they ran out of supplies, they’d have to return to the valley. “Bounty hunters and guildsmen aren’t welcome in Dragonspire Village and Dad would never turn us over in any case.”

  “So it’s the noose or an unwelcome marriage. Talk about choices.”

  “There’s one other option,” Yaz said. “I’m going to get back into hunting and looking for rare herbs. I could use a partner. We won’t get rich, but with what I make writing papers for the sages, it’ll be enough for two people to live on. Then, when you find the right person, you can get married on your own terms, or not at all for that matter.”

  “I… You’d do that for me?” Brigid’s voice was choked with emotion. “Why?”

  “Why? We’re friends, right? We look out for each other. If you can’t count on your friends in a tough spot, who can you count on?”

  She smiled and brushed her hand across her eyes. “Thanks. If there’s anything I can do to pay you back, just tell me.”

  “You don’t have to pay me back. There’s no score between us.”

  She sniffed and Yaz looked away to give her a chance to wipe the tears away. The moment he focused ahead, three men stepped into the road, loaded crossbows in their hands.

  Yaz pulled up and looked back. Another trio emerged from the woods behind them similarly armed.

  A moment of distraction and they rode right into a trap. Yaz cursed himself silently. How could he have been so stupid?

  His hand tightened on his staff.

  “Don’t,” the left-hand crossbowman said. “You’re both wanted for serious crimes and we mean to take you in to stand trial for them. Surrender and you’ll get a fair hearing. Resist and you’ll still get a fair hearing, only you’ll get it with a crossbow bolt in your leg.”

  “I don’t suppose it would help to point out I only killed that guildsman because he broke into my inn room with a weapon in his hand.”

  The bounty hunter shook his head. “Nope. The magistrate decides that. We just bring the wanted people in. Now toss those staves aside.”

  Yaz grimaced but escaping with a wound would be far harder than if they were uninjured. He dropped his ironwood staff and a moment later Brigid’s landed beside it.

  “Very sensible,” the bounty hunter said. “Two of my men are going to tie your hands behind your back. Hold real still.”

  One of the hunters from behind eased up beside Yaz and another went to Brigid. He grabbed Yaz’s wrists and jerked them behind his back. Coarse rope was wrapped and tied tight, binding his hands.

  At last the crossbows were lowered. The men who tied them up rode around and grabbed the horse’s reins. The final hunter urged his horse up closer and paused to collect the staves. Yaz didn’t blame him. Ironwood weapons brought good money. The thought of his captors profiting not only from selling Yaz to the law, but also selling his weapon made him sick.

  “Let’s get back to camp,” the leader said. “I doubt the boss will want to move out before morning, but you never know.”

  Reduced to a passenger, Yaz bobbed along and tried to learn what he could from studying his captors. The clothes and weapons gave away little beyond their profession. None of the men carried edged weapons. In addition to their crossbows they had clubs at their waists to stun their prey. Yaz had always assumed the bounties were dead or alive, but judging from their gear, this group focused on alive.

  He flicked a glance at Brigid and found her glaring at the back of the man leading her horse. Good, angry was more useful than scared. Calm and ready was better yet, but you couldn’t have everything.

  It took nearly two hours to reach the bounty hunters’ camp. Three tan canvas tents were pitched around a large fire pit. A pot was suspended from an iron tripod over a low fire. Yaz’s mouth watered at the savory smells.

  A line of horses was picketed thirty feet from the tents and a pair of men tended them. When they were nearly into camp a tall, slim man emerged from one of the tents. He was shirtless and his dark hair had been slicked back with water. His left eye was milky and bisected by an angry scar.

  The leader of their captors broke off and rode over to the one-eyed man. Yaz dearly wanted to hear what they were saying, but the rest of his captors led them to a patch of g
rass where another bound figure lay. Rough hands dragged them from their horses and dropped them to the ground next to the other prisoner.

  The bound man shifted so he could see them through long blond hair that nearly covered his whole face. His hands were tied behind him and several bruises colored his pale skin. He was dressed in gray trousers and tunic with brown leather boots.

  He smiled, revealing straight, white teeth. “Good evening. I see I’m not the only outlaw having a bad day. I’m Silas Stormcrow, pleasure to meet you.”

  Yaz frowned. “Stormcrow. Lightning-path wizard?

  Silas’s bright, blue eyes widened. “Very impressive. I doubt one in a hundred people could have known that just from my name.”

  “I read a lot. Name’s Yaz, my companion is Brigid.” Yaz looked around. A pair of hunters kept a close eye on them but seemed untroubled by their talking. “How did these guys capture a wizard?”

  “Base treachery. They set a trap that broke my horse’s legs and sent me flying. While I was stunned, they tied me up and took my catalyst.”

  “Catalyst?” Brigid asked.

  “A platinum and onyx ring that I enchanted. It allows me to interact with the forces of magic. Valuable though useless to a non-wizard, but without it, I’m practically a non-wizard as well. Bastards! If I could get my ring back, I’d show them a thing or two.”

  “Why did they grab you?” Brigid asked, prompting a wince from Yaz.

  The question didn’t seem to bother Silas. He smiled and said, “Murder. I killed the son of a baron after he slaughtered my familiar right in front of me. How about you?”

  “I wrote a letter,” Yaz said.

  Silas burst out laughing. When he got himself under control he said, “Seems a little excessive to put a bounty on you for that.”

  “I also killed a guildsman when he came to teach me a lesson about working without his guild’s permission. That might have been what really upset them. It was pure self-defense, but I doubt a magistrate will find for us.”

  “Probably not,” Silas agreed. “The guilds and nobles control everything in Carttoom and they dislike having their authority challenged. Trust me on that.”

  Yaz didn’t need to trust the man, he’d seen it clearly for himself. “How long have they had you?”

  “Since dawn this morning. They set up camp when word came in that another bounty was in the area. I guess they figured they’d make it worth their while. Lying on the ground with your hands tied behind your back all day leaves a lot to be desired. Not that anyone seems to care.”

  Yaz’s shoulders were already starting to cramp. At this point, even if the opportunity to escape arose, he doubted he’d be in any shape to make a run for it. Not that he wasn’t willing to try.

  The bounty hunters had prepared their dinner hours ago and the scent still lingered in Yaz’s memory. Someone among them knew how to cook judging by the odors of stewed meat and fried bread. Not that any of the food had been offered to the prisoners. All Yaz, Brigid, and Silas got was to watch their captors eat.

  When the sun set two hours ago, a pair of men had been chosen to watch over the prisoners. Each carried a torch in one hand and a club in the other. Yaz’s shoulders hurt so bad now he could hardly stand it. The gods alone could guess what was going to happen over the next few days. And forget about sleep. There was no way to get comfortable even if the pain subsided enough to let him rest. He could just make out Brigid in the dim torchlight. She had to be every bit as sore as him, but she hadn’t said a word.

  Talk about tough.

  Silas had shifted onto his side, facing the guards who watched them with silent indifference. All in a day’s work for a bounty hunter.

  A faint chill sent a shiver down Yaz’s spine. He caught a glimpse of movement from the darkness as something small and white glided along just above the grass. As it got closer details emerged. The object was a fist-sized dragon’s skull, from a hatchling maybe five years old. Its tiny teeth were razor sharp and a faint red glow emerged from the empty eye sockets.

  It was an undead creature, but no malevolence radiated from it. Yaz had read stories that said their hatred of life produced an aura of darkness. This little monster gave off nothing. Instead it flew over to Silas and chewed on his ropes. Its teeth quickly and silently frayed the strands and in less than a minute Silas’s hands were free.

  He gave no outward signs of his release beyond using the first two fingers of his right hand to stroke the skull. At first Yaz thought Silas was just thanking the thing for setting him loose, but a moment later tendrils of dark energy rose from the skull’s white surface.

  When Silas had coaxed a handful of the energy from the skull, he spun his finger and guided streams of darkness out toward the two guards. The bounty hunters didn’t seem to notice anything at first. Neither did Yaz for that matter, but as seconds passed the light from their torches dimmed and the men rubbed their eyes with the backs of their arms. They yawned and blinked, staggering around a moment before collapsing.

  Silas scrambled to his feet and winced. He studied the guards for a moment then nodded to himself. When Silas had decided that things were to his liking, he knelt beside Yaz and started working the ropes around his wrists loose. In a few seconds Yaz was free. While Silas worked on Brigid’s bindings, Yaz took a step toward the fallen guards. The clubs weren’t much, but any weapons would be an improvement.

  “Stop!” Silas said.

  Yaz froze. “What?”

  “If you enter the area of the spell, you’ll end up unconscious like the hunters. Even I can’t enter the area safely.”

  Yaz rejoined his companions just as Silas finished untying Brigid. She rose and rubbed her shoulders. Silas stretched while the little skull rubbed his cheek.

  “What about our gear?” Yaz asked.

  Silas shook his head. “Can’t do it. We’re going to have to make do with our wits. The binding darkness spell will last until sunrise. Soon as that happens, they’ll be on our tails.”

  “What’s the plan?” Yaz asked.

  “We put as much distance between us and them as possible before morning. I was planning to explore a ruin north of here. I’m headed back there to hide out and search for a piece of platinum so I can reforge my ring. If you want to join me, you’re welcome.”

  Yaz and Brigid shared a look, but what choice did they have? “We’ll take you up on that,” Yaz said. “Lead on.”

  Silas screwed up his face and after a few seconds a weak glow surrounded the skull.

  “I thought you couldn’t do magic without your ring,” Brigid said.

  As they walked Silas said, “I can’t do much, but through my connection with Wicked I can cast a few simple necromancy spells and any wizard worthy of the name can conjure light.”

  “Wicked?” Yaz asked.

  “My familiar, or at least the little that’s left of him. I drew a fragment of his soul back from the other side and bound it to his skull.” Silas let out a loud sigh so filled with pain that Yaz was glad he couldn’t see the wizard’s expression in the dark. “I can’t help thinking what we might have become if Wicked had survived. Anyway, since he’s an undead being he has a direct connection to necromantic energy that I can use to power my magic. I can’t draw too much since Wicked needs the power to exist, but it comes in handy now and then.”

  It was lucky Yaz and Brigid had ended up captured with Silas. Yaz shuddered to think what might have become of them without the wizard’s help. But then Wicked looked at Yaz with his glowing red eyes just long enough to make him wonder what they’d gotten themselves into.

  Chapter 22

  During one of their brief rests, Yaz had gone into his mental library and shoved his pain and exhaustion into the side room where it wouldn’t bother him. His thoughts were clear as they climbed a grassy hill. The sun was just coloring the sky orange and red and below them a huge hardwood forest spread. Under other circumstances the view would have been beautiful, but they all knew that Silas’s spe
ll was now broken and their pursuers would soon be on their trail. Worse, the bounty hunters had horses. It wouldn’t take long for them to close the distance.

  “Where’s this ruin you mentioned?” Yaz leaned forward and gasped for breath.

  “In the forest another five miles northeast,” Silas said. The wizard was pale, his eyes red and rimmed with dark circles. Yaz doubted he could make it another five miles. “I was hiding out in the forest and stumbled on it a few days ago.”

  “Do you explore ruins often?” Brigid asked. Her hair was snarled and tangled and she looked every bit as exhausted as Silas. Yaz was glad he didn’t have a mirror.

  “When I can. Selling the loot, it’s one of the few ways I can make a living. Plenty of merchants want imperial artifacts and don’t ask questions about who they buy from. It’s a sketchy way to survive, but when your options are limited you do what you must. I keep saying I’m going south to Rend, but it’s a long journey with bounty hunters on your tail. Maybe someday.”

  “You could come to Dragonspire Village with us,” Yaz said. “After what you did, I’m sure my father would offer you sanctuary. Bounty hunters and guildsmen aren’t welcome in the valley.”

  “Assuming we can get clear of the group on our tail, I’ll do that. For now, we should keep going.”

  Brigid groaned and Yaz straightened. The trio set off down the hill toward the forest. It was farther to the forest than it looked; an hour after leaving the hilltop, they stepped under the branches. The air was twenty degrees cooler in the shade of the trees.

  Silas picked his way around oak and maple trunks, seeming confident in his direction. Hopefully it wasn’t all for show.

  A couple hours later the first distant howl echoed through the trees. Yaz spun and tried to orient on it, but the sound bounced around too much.

  “Please tell me that was wolves,” Brigid said.

  “Hounds,” Silas said. “The guy that runs the bounty hunters has four of the beasts that he keeps with him. He must have set them on our trail. The ruins aren’t far. We need to find a defensive position.”