The Dragonspire Chronicles Omnibus 1

by James E. Wisher

Brigid stared at the papers covering the board. They were all wanted posters. It only took a moment for Yaz to pick out his and Brigid’s likenesses. The sketches weren’t perfect, but close enough. He found Silas a few seconds later. His was rougher and showed him with long hair. You might actually have trouble picking Silas out of a crowd. Yaz and Brigid were another matter.

  “We need disguises,” Yaz said. Cloaks would’ve been ideal, but in the summer heat they’d bake and everyone that looked at them would know they were hiding something.

  “Looks like a small neighborhood market up ahead,” Silas said.

  “That’ll do.” Yaz led the way.

  The market wasn’t much more than a collection of wood and canvas stalls from which people sold a variety of items that appeared to have been scavenged from the beach. Only the poor or truly desperate would shop there. Yaz and his companions certainly fell into the latter group.

  “What can we find here?” Brigid asked with clear distaste.

  “Hopefully, a hat and really big tunic for you,” Yaz said. “And at least a hat for me.”

  It sounded pathetic as disguises went, but there really wasn’t much else Yaz could do. His scruffy beard made him look a little older than his eighteen years and he’d grown his hair out a bit, but without magic that was pretty much the limit. He’d considered suggesting Brigid cut and dye her hair but wasn’t sure how she’d take it. Besides, there really wasn’t much that made a good dye that lasted without running down your face if you sweat and this time of year, sweat was a real problem.

  They walked around and quickly selected a flat, green fisherman’s hat for him and a broad-brimmed sun hat for her. There were no tunics available clean enough to even consider wearing and they weren’t big enough to disguise her figure anyway.

  The sooner they found an inn and got off the street the better Yaz would feel.

  After what seemed like the first good night’s sleep he’d had in weeks, Yaz and his companions set out to scout the guild hall. The walk took twenty minutes, and when they finally arrived Yaz’s hopes were dashed. Not that he intended to give up. One way or another he’d get the information he needed.

  Slavers Guild headquarters resembled a fortress more than a guild hall. The massive, walled-in compound covered four city blocks. A stone building in the center had to be the main hall. It stood only two stories tall, yet still seemed to loom over everything in the area. Two smaller, single-story buildings looked like barracks, but even from a distance Yaz could see the heavy locks on the doors. But that was all he could see from their position across the street from the wall’s single gate.

  There wouldn’t be any breaking in to the compound and sneaking in would be no easy task either. How, by all the watching gods, were they going to get in there and retrieve the information they needed? Yaz wished he had an idea, but his mind was blank.

  “As least there’s no magic protecting it,” Silas said. “Not that they need magic. I’ve seen noble citadels less well defended.”

  “It’s certainly intimidating,” Brigid said.

  “We don’t want to stand around here too long,” Yaz said. “Let’s find somewhere to sit and talk.”

  So far, they hadn’t attracted any bounty hunter attention and Yaz didn’t want to have to worry about the city guard as well. They set out down the smooth cobblestone street, moving away from the guild compound.

  They hadn’t gone far when a notice stuck in the window of a dry goods shop caught Yaz’s eye. He crossed over and paused to read. There was going to be a slave auction the day after tomorrow at the guild hall. Maybe they wouldn’t have to sneak in after all.

  Plans were already forming when Brigid and Silas joined him.

  “What is it?” Brigid asked.

  “Our best chance.” Yaz read the notice to her. “Silas, you know more about the nobility than us, you’ll have to take the lead. Brigid and I can pretend to be your servants. Do you have a spell to scout the interior?”

  Silas nodded. “Sure. What would I be looking for?”

  “A record room. I won’t have a ton of time, so knowing exactly where I’m going will be important.”

  “Wait, wait, slow down,” Brigid said. “We’re going to the auction and you’re planning to sneak away in the middle of it? That place must have dozens of guards. How will you get where you need to go?”

  That was an excellent question. “I’ll have to make it up as I go. But this is too good a chance to pass up. The gods alone know when we’ll have another chance to get in there honestly. Most of the guards will probably be busy with the slaves.”

  “Yaz is right,” Silas said. “We’ll never have a better chance. I’ll need to find somewhere close by given the spell’s limited range.”

  Brigid sighed. “If you’re really serious, we’ll need clothes. Servants’ uniforms for me and Yaz and a noble’s outfit for Silas. If we showed up like this, no one would believe we could afford a slave.”

  “I say we shop today and come back at night to scout the interior of the guild. Tomorrow we can finalize our plans.”

  “That’s a good idea. My spell lets me see in the dark as well as the light.”

  They left the front of the shop and set out for the wealthy district. As they walked Brigid asked, “Why don’t you just get the information we need tonight?”

  “I’d be happy to, but if the book with the details is closed, I have no way to open it. My magic allows me to extend my sight, nothing more. I can’t manipulate objects.”

  “That’s still pretty handy,” Yaz said. “I’m surprised there aren’t more wizards around. We’ve done a fair bit of traveling and you’re the first one we’ve met.”

  Silas grinned. “It’s not that easy. Most masters only take a single apprentice in their lifetime. The study and practice is rigorous, not to mention the fact that the final exam is potentially fatal.”

  “What did you have to do?” Brigid asked. “I’m sorry, it’s not a secret, is it?”

  “Sure. Basically, I cast a spell to protect me from lightning then walked out into a thunderstorm summoned by my master holding a three-meter iron rod. If I survived ten strikes, I passed and received the rank of journeyman wizard. Which, obviously, I did. But if I’d made even a tiny mistake casting the spell, the first or fifth or tenth strike might well have killed me. Magic’s too demanding a path for any but the strongest to follow. Frankly, I can’t really recommend it.”

  “Even with all the powers you’ve gained?” Brigid asked.

  “You’ve seen what using those powers does to me. Even with my catalyst I have to be careful. Channel too much energy and I end up helpless. There are ways to mitigate the cost, but without more practice and access to the proper supplies…” Silas shook his head. “Sometimes magic’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

  “But when you need it, magic can save your life,” Yaz said. “And before this business is over, I fear we’ll need it.”

  Chapter 10

  Moz carefully covered the tripwire with moss and fallen pine needles. When some unlucky bandit stumbled on that, he’d get a spiked branch to the head. It should be lethal, but even if it wasn’t, a strike from that would put any man out of action.

  It was midafternoon and he was glad to be in the woods out of the heat. For what seemed a long time Moz had been out in the forest setting traps. He was determined to help the settlers even as he begrudged every hour he wasn’t searching for the Dark Sages’ base. At least his prisoner was still alive. No one had even tried to make a move on him despite the many angry glares he received as Moz guided him to the shed that served as the town’s jail.

  In the time available, Moz felt like they’d accomplished quite a bit. The village was fortified with extra barriers outside the wall to slow a charge and make it hard to set up scaling ladders. His traps should slow the enemy advance as well, though he knew it wouldn’t stop a determined enemy. And from what Alva said, the bandits feared the Dark Sages far more than anything he and the settl
ers might do.

  Moz straightened and scrubbed a hand across his face. He’d done about all he could out here. He needed to take a scouting run further out and see if the enemy was approaching. He didn’t expect any action for a couple more days, but you couldn’t count on anything at times like these. Best to make sure.

  He left the site of his most recent surprise and slipped silently through the forest. His gaze never stopped searching for the faint signs he’d left. Would’ve been embarrassing to trip his own trap. Fatal too.

  When he’d left the danger zone behind, Moz picked up speed. The forest ran for nearly a mile with only a single cart path leading to the village. They’d felled trees across the path to slow the bandits’ advance and hopefully drive them into the woods. He sighed as the edge of the forest approached. There was far too much hoping and shoulds in their plans. It didn’t exactly fill him with confidence.

  Just short of the fields beyond the tree line Moz stopped. A motley collection of ragged men and women had gathered around a dozen fires. A quick count revealed nearly four hundred bandits. More than they expected, but not a lot more. Five heavily laden supply wagons were parked to one side and guarded by twenty men armed with spears and crossbows. Beside the wagons loomed a steel-tipped, wheeled ram. The ram itself was suspended from heavy chains and protected by an iron-clad roof. No way had the bandits built it on their own. That was a professional war machine.

  Where did they get it? The Dark Sages, probably. That one piece of siege equipment, more than all the bandits put together, told him just how much trouble the settlement was in. He needed to get back and warn everyone. There was still time for them to flee and reach the Rend border. The bandits could burn an empty village and call their job done.

  Moz sighed and slipped deeper into the trees. There was time, but he doubted the settlers would run. They were all dedicated, determined to fight and die for their new home and the ideals it represented. Moz respected that, but it was a position likely to get them all killed.

  After his scouting mission, Moz had returned to the settlement and made his report. The village leaders, Bernard and Ella, along with four leading citizens had joined Moz in their city hall, a four-room cabin that was also Bernard and Ella’s home. A round dinner table did double duty for town meetings.

  “Gods’ blood!” Bernard said when Moz finished explaining what they faced. “That’s worse than we feared.”

  “Much worse,” Moz said. “The Dark Sages want you destroyed and they’re not taking half measures anymore. That ram will destroy your gate in five strikes. I don’t question your courage or determination, but given the weapons available, I can’t see any way for you to stop the ram. And once the bandits get inside the wall you’ve lost your only advantage.”

  “What do you suggest?” Ella asked. Her hands were clenched so tight her knuckles had turned white.

  “I suggest you gather everything you can carry and run for the Rend border. You can always rebuild, but only if you’re alive.”

  “And when we do, they’ll send another gang of marauders to burn us out.” Bernard shook his head. “We have to make a stand eventually. Better to do it now.”

  The others looked nervous but they nodded all the same. Moz figured that would be their reaction. Still, he had to try to convince them.

  “I understand,” Moz said. “Losing everything’s a hard prospect to swallow.”

  “Will you help us?” Bernard asked.

  “Can’t. I’ve got my own mission and if I die here it fails. That’s not acceptable. My traps should take out a few. I’m sorry I can’t do more.”

  Bernard sighed. “No, I shouldn’t have asked. Your warning at least gave us a chance. You didn’t have to do that, or anything else. We’re grateful for everything.”

  He stuck out his hand and Moz shook it. “Good luck.”

  He’d barely released the man’s hand when the door burst open and a girl about twenty dressed all in forest green said, “Someone’s coming.”

  “Who?” Bernard asked.

  She shook her head. “He looks rough, but he’s carrying a white flag. Some of the archers want to feather him, but Tad convinced them to wait for you.”

  “Thank you, dear. Back to your post.” Bernard waved her off and rubbed his eyes.

  “That was faster than I expected them to arrive,” Moz said. “Copper’ll get you gold that this guy’s job is to keep you talking so his comrades can get in position.”

  “I suspect you’re right. Still, I’d best hear him out. At the very least it appears the chance to flee has vanished.”

  “For all of us,” Moz said.

  “Then you’re staying?” Ella brightened at once.

  “No choice. I can’t do what I have to with bandits on my trail and if they see me escape they’ll give chase. Can’t have witnesses to a massacre.”

  She winced at his choice of words, but Moz wasn’t the sort to sugarcoat things. Their only options were victory or death.

  Bernard led the way out. The entire group made the short walk to a set of stairs that led to the battlements. At the top waited a handful of archers with nocked arrows. They all wore woodsman’s garb in brown and green.

  A scruffy bearded man that would have fit right in with the bandits said, “Just give the word and we’ll stick the bastard.”

  Moz changed his opinion when he heard the archer speak. He sounded more like a street thug for one of the bigger cities, a city in Rend from his accent. Maybe he’d come out here to evade the law. Ordinarily Moz wouldn’t have wanted a man like that at his side in a fight, but today he’d take anyone that knew how to draw blood.

  Bernard patted the archer on the shoulder. “Thank you, Kane, but we’ll honor his parley. They’re the bandits, not us.”

  Kane spat over the wall. “You give them too much honor, Bernard. They’re rabid dogs and should be put down.”

  “I fear that time will come soon enough. No need to hasten the bloodshed.” Bernard turned his attention to the messenger and waved him closer. “We will speak peacefully! Come closer.”

  The man, more a boy really now that Moz could see him better, eased closer to the wall, his gaze darting amongst the many angry stares bearing down on him. He didn’t tremble though and that impressed Moz.

  When he was about fifteen feet away the boy said, “I got a message from our commander. He’s giving you one chance to flee with your lives. Anyone that leaves in the next hour will be allowed to pass in peace. Anyone still here when the time’s up dies.”

  Having said what he had to, the boy turned and marched away. Moz doubted the offer was legitimate. Maybe they hoped to weaken the resistance by a few desperate souls. Anyone they killed outside the walls would be easy meat.

  “Not much of a negotiation,” Bernard said. “What do you think?”

  That last was directed at Moz who crossed his arms. “I think it’s a setup, but if all they want is to destroy the village, it might be an honest offer. Don’t think I’d chance it though.”

  “My thoughts as well,” Bernard said. “Everyone discussed our options earlier, so I see no reason to even mention the offer lest someone make a run for it and end up killed. If we have an hour, we’d best make good use of it.”

  “What more can we do?” Kane asked.

  “Pray that the gods favor us.”

  Thanks to the trees they felled, the bandits needed closer to two hours to roll the massive ram down the rough, narrow road, but when it finally emerged from the trees, surrounded by several hundred brutal-looking, heavily armed men and women, the effect impressed Moz. And he’d seen a lot. The archers on the wall with him appeared outwardly calm, but they had to be losing it inside. They wouldn’t be human if they weren’t.

  The people pushing the ram were largely hidden by the roof, but most of their legs were visible and if they were visible, then the archers could hit them. Bernard had remained with Moz on the wall while Ella retreated to keep the noncombatants calm. Moz called them non
combatants, but if the bandits made it deep into the villages, they’d have no choice but to fight. Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that.

  “You see what I see?” Moz asked.

  “A gathering of brutes and thugs eager to spill our blood?” Bernard asked.

  “That too, but I meant their legs under the ram. Your archers should focus on them. Slow the ram as much as possible. It won’t win the battle, but it might buy us a little time.”

  “I’ll spread the word.” Bernard whispered in Kane’s ear and he passed to the next archer.

  And not a moment too soon. The ram, after a brief pause, lurched forward, slow and unstoppable. It was a pity the settlers hadn’t built on a hill. That would’ve really slowed the bandits. The fighters kept their position near the tree line, no doubt ready to charge in the instant the gate came crashing down.

  The first arrow arced out and slammed into the ground six inches from its target. The next shot drew a scream from the far side of the ram and it slowed a fraction. One of the watching bandits rushed out to take the fallen person’s place. Or so he intended. An arrow drove into the bandit’s chest long before he reached the ram.

  Moz grinned. Whoever was leading these thugs didn’t have a clue about siege warfare. And thank the gods for that.

  Another bandit went down and the ram stopped in its tracks. The loss of just two people was enough to keep it in place. Good to know.

  This time ten bandits ran for the ram, half of them with shields. Arrows arced in, felling half the targets before they reached the ram. Two tossed aside their shields and the weapon was on the move again. The other bandits kept their shields up and walked along beside their comrades, ready to step in should another fall.

  And fall they did. Now that the archers had some practice under their belts, they hit the visible legs with ease, leaving a trail of bodies writhing on the ground behind the ram. Eventually another batch of bandits made the run to replace fallen people. More of them fell on the way in and more still as the weapon inched closer. Looked like they lost a bandit per twenty yards, give or take.