The Dragons' Graveyard

by James E. Wisher

  The Dragons’ Graveyard

  The Dragonspire Chronicles Book 3

  James E Wisher

  Sand Hill Publishing

  Copyright © 2019 by James E Wisher

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Edited by: Janie Linn Dullard

  Cover art by: Paganus

  032720201.2

  ISBN: 978-1-945763-52-6

  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

  Afterword

  Also by James E Wisher

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Yaz yawned and twisted his neck to work out a kink. A saddlebag didn’t make the best pillow, but it was the only one he had. Ten days on a barge with nothing to do and camping on the riverbank in lean-tos left everyone in a miserable mood. The passengers were all ready for a night in civilization.

  On the left side of the barge, a brawny man with a twenty-foot-long pole shoved them forward in time with his partner on the right. The Wallowing River lived up to its name. If the bargemen had relied on the current to carry them to Roval and the villages beyond, they’d be ancient before they arrived. As it was, tonight they’d reach their first town after leaving Fort Kane.

  To kill time, Yaz spent most of his days exploring his mental library, rereading books he’d memorized. Not exciting, but better than nothing. At least the nightly ordering of his memories didn’t take long. And without the chaos and violence they’d been dealing with, his sleep had been untroubled by nightmares. It was the sole benefit he’d found to traveling by barge. His companions, on the other hand, seemed to be having a ball.

  Silas played cards for hours with some of the other guys on board. They only bet with copper scales so there was no real risk and anyone that pulled a knife on Silas would regret it immediately. As a skilled lightning wizard, Silas could take care of himself. Yaz sat in on a couple games, but after fifteen minutes had everyone’s tells memorized and got bored.

  Brigid surprised him the most. She struck up a friendship with the older woman they’d spoken to on the Fort Kane docks. Her name was Dorthy and when she was a girl, she tended a flock of sheep just like Brigid. Yaz didn’t listen in on their conversations, but every night when they made camp, Brigid had a big smile. Whatever they discussed made her happy and nothing else mattered to Yaz.

  He got to his feet and walked to the front of the barge. A few of the other passengers glanced his way as he passed, but no one spoke. There was no hostility in the gazes that tracked him, just indifference. Considering all the unwelcome attention they’d received over the last couple months, indifference suited Yaz fine.

  Though slow, at least the river was smooth. There were few rocks and no rapids, just a gentle, steady current. No wonder so much merchandise went by river. Even in the spring he doubted there would be any danger.

  A hint of smoke rose in the distance and when they rounded the next bend Roval appeared on the bank and with it the stink of sewage. It seemed everyone used the river like an outhouse. From this distance the buildings were little more than specks and the wall appeared six inches high. Docks jutted a third of the way out into the river. It was a welcome sight. Yaz dearly hoped they had a large, comfortable inn.

  Steps on the deck alerted him to someone’s approach and when he turned, he found Brigid a few feet behind him. She smiled and sidled up beside him. “Dorthy invited us to dinner at her daughter’s farm. I don’t know about you, but a home-cooked meal sounds good to me.”

  “Sure, but will her family complain if she shows up with three total strangers?”

  “She says not. Apparently, they always cook a large evening meal, so a few extra mouths won’t be a problem. Anyway, Tom, he’s the son-in-law, enjoys company. Likes to brag about how well his farm is doing from the sounds of it. Seems a small price for a free meal.”

  Yaz suspected that spending one last evening chatting with her friend interested Brigid at least as much as the food. “Did you talk to Silas yet?”

  “No.” She cleared her throat. “I already accepted on our behalf. You don’t think he’ll be mad?”

  “Nah, but he might not feel like going either.” Yaz shrugged. “I’ll talk to him. Even if he prefers to stay at the inn, I’ll be happy to join you.”

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks.”

  Yaz smiled and watched her hurry back to Dorthy and start chatting again. Looked like she’d gotten over being mad at him for killing his former master. That came as a relief since it felt weird having her angry. Hopefully the food would be good.

  They were a hundred yards out from the dock when Silas’s game finally broke up. The wizard scooped up his winnings and joined Yaz in the front of the barge. A group of locals stood waiting for them to tie up. Probably people picking up family from upstream.

  “How’d you make out?” Yaz asked.

  “I finished the trip up ten scales. Hardly earth-shaking money, but better than being down. I wasn’t even the big winner. One of the other guys won twenty. What’s the plan for our one day in port?”

  “Funny you should ask. Brigid accepted a dinner invitation from her new best friend at her daughter’s farm. You in?”

  Silas shrugged. “Why not? We’ll need to get rooms first though. With this many people arriving in town all at once, the inns will fill up fast.”

  “You’d think a town built on barge trade would have plenty of rooms for rent,” Yaz said.

  “No, build too many inns and you can’t charge as much for the rooms. Supply and demand, you know.”

  And Yaz thought he was cynical. Silas put him to shame. Either way, it wouldn’t take long to find lodging. As the barge pulled up to the docks, he could already see three inns waiting for them.

  It was early evening when Yaz stopped at the end of the gravel walk leading up to a neat farmhouse. It had nothing on Randall’s manor, but it still looked like a nice place. Two stories with a red roof and white siding, glass windows and a brass weather vane. A cozy place to raise a family. Beyond the house stood a matching barn nearly twice as big, a long house for the workers, a storage shed, and acres of fields filled with waist-high, deep-green plants Yaz couldn’t identify from a distance. Dorthy hadn’t been exaggerating when she said her son-in-law had a successful farm.

  Brigid led the way down the path to the front door where she knocked. A few seconds later the door opened revealing a woman in her mid-twenties who looked like a younger version of Dorthy. The woman smiled, showing a lot of straight white teeth. She wore a blue-and-white dress with a white apron over it.

  “You must be Brigid,” she said. “Mother hasn’t stopped talking about you since she arrived. It was very nice of you to keep her company on the barge. I know she often finds the long trip tedious. Please come on in.”

  “And you have to be Anna,” Brigid said. “Your mother told me all about you and your husband.”

  �
�I hope she didn’t say anything too embarrassing.”

  She stepped aside to let them enter and Yaz followed Brigid inside. The smell of stew filled the air and he breathed deep. This would be a fine meal, he could almost taste it. The inside of the house had a rustic but welcoming feel. On the right was a living room filled with furniture of wood and leather. On the left, a long table in the dining room had been set for six with fine porcelain plates and silverware. Yaz’s parents didn’t even have this nice a dining set. They must have been even richer than he first thought. There was a door in the wall to the left that he assumed led to the kitchen.

  “Mom’s upstairs with the little ones.” Anna closed the door behind them. “Have a seat. Dinner’s almost ready. Tom’s just finishing out in the fields. Harvest isn’t far off so the poor man’s outside from dawn to dusk.”

  Yaz sat in a hard, high-backed chair. The leather ones in the living room looked more comfortable, but he wouldn’t complain. “What are you raising?”

  “Wheat and rye. You can’t see it from the house, but beyond the fields is a pasture with fifty fine beef cattle.”

  “It’s a lovely farm.” Brigid sat beside Yaz.

  “Thank you,” Anna said. “It’s been a lot of hard work, but it’s finally paying off. I even got my first house slave to help with the cleaning. Tom brought him back from Port Steel with the two hands he bought. It was such a sweet gesture. Lord knows I can use the help.”

  Anna turned at the sound of footsteps coming downstairs, so she missed Brigid’s disgusted expression when she mentioned the slaves. She had a worse poker face than the would-be card sharps on the barge.

  Yaz gently nudged her in the side and when she looked his way whispered, “Careful.”

  “What?”

  He pointed at her frowning, wrinkled brow and narrowed eyes. She looked ready to kill someone.

  “Oh, sorry.” Her expression smoothed an instant before Dorthy appeared.

  “Finally got them to sleep. Dinner smells lovely. Hello Brigid, so glad you and your friends could make it.”

  Brigid rose and gave the older woman a hug. “Thank you for asking. After eating camp food, we’ll all appreciate a home-cooked meal.”

  The front door slammed and in stomped a hale, red-faced man in overalls and work boots. He’d barely taken three steps when Anna said, “Tom! How many times have I told you to take those dirty boots off before coming in the house?”

  He looked down and gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry, dear.”

  Tom went back outside and returned a moment later in his stocking feet. Brigid watched the scene with a wistful expression, visions of domestic bliss no doubt dancing in her head. At least she appeared to have calmed down after the mention of slaves.

  Introductions and handshakes were exchanged all around. If Tom’s gaze lingered a moment too long on Brigid, no one was rude enough to point it out.

  At last he took his place at the head of the table. “I’m starved. Is that stew I smell?”

  “Yes, it’s your favorite,” Anna said. “I’ll go get it.”

  She disappeared into the kitchen. To fill the silence Dorthy asked, “Did you have trouble finding rooms, dear?”

  “No,” Brigid said. “There were plenty of vacancies. I think Silas even got us a deal by threatening to go across the street to their competitor.”

  “A real negotiator, eh?” Tom said.

  “I try,” Silas said. “When you’re broke, necessity is a great teacher.”

  Tom grinned. “I hear you. When my parents started this farm all they had was a pair of mules and a two-room log cabin.”

  The kitchen door swung open and Anna emerged with a large, steaming bowl in her hands. Behind her came a little boy with a plate of bread. He had an iron band on each wrist to mark him as a slave. He kept his head down, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes.

  The moment she saw him Brigid gasped so hard she started coughing. Yaz patted her back. “Are you okay?”

  “Just a hiccup,” she said, trying to cover up her honest reaction to the boy. “Is there a washroom?”

  “No, but if you need to freshen up there’s a pitcher of water and basin in our bedroom upstairs. It’s the second room on the left,” Anna said.

  “Thank you. I won’t be a minute. Yaz, would you give me a hand?”

  He couldn’t imagine what she might need help with but nodded. The two of them left the table and went quickly up the stairs. As soon as they were inside, she closed the door and said, “I know that boy. He’s my neighbor’s son.”

  “Are you sure?” Yaz asked.

  She nodded. “He’s got a very distinct scar on the back of his left hand. That’s him. Tom must have bought him in Port Steel when they sold off our people.”

  Yaz grimaced. On the one hand, it was good to know at least some of the villagers had survived, but on the other, this was a complication they didn’t need right now.

  Brigid went to the table, poured water into a white basin, and splashed her face. “We have to get him out of here.”

  While she dried off with a towel placed there for that purpose Yaz said, “How? I doubt we can afford to buy him and killing the whole family to free him is crazy even for us. And assuming we free Cal, how will we look after him while we search for the others?”

  Brigid tossed the towel aside and glared at him. “What do you suggest?”

  She wasn’t going to like this. “We leave him where he is.”

  The muscle in her jaw clenched.

  “Just for now,” Yaz hastened to add. “We know where he is and Anna seems nice enough. I doubt she’d be the sort to whip a little kid. We need to free some adults first and set up a safe place.”

  “I can’t just leave him.”

  “In the morning we’re boarding a barge for a city literally filled with slavers. Not exactly the place you want to take an escaped slave. Plus, we’ve still got bounty hunters to worry about. If we get caught what do you think’s going to happen to Cal?”

  “I know. I know.” She looked like she wanted to rip her hair out and cry all at the same time.

  “We’ll come back for him,” Yaz said. “I promise. But for now, he’s safer here than with us. For all we know, the other slaves Tom brought back with him might be from the valley too. When we find out, we might be rescuing more than just a kid.”

  Brigid took a deep breath and blew out a long sigh, visibly getting herself under control. “All right. For now at least we leave him here. But if there’s a mark on him when we get back, so help me…”

  “I understand. If they’ve hurt him, you can have the dagger.”

  To say that dinner the night before had been a strained affair would be to greatly understate matters. Yaz and the others ended up excusing themselves the instant dessert was finished. Brigid complained of an upset stomach and the need for an early departure.

  Dorthy seemed to smell a rat, but no one said anything as they made their escape. At least Cal never looked up at her when he made his brief appearances. If the boy had recognized Brigid and said anything about wanting to escape, Yaz doubted he could have stopped her from doing something about it.

  As it was, Brigid’s eyes were bloodshot from crying all night. Yaz had offered to stay up with her, but she insisted he get some sleep. Like he could sleep with her weeping twenty feet away. At least she seemed to have herself under control this morning.

  The rest of the passengers had joined Yaz and his friends on the dock. The bargemen were taking on supplies and when they finished, the passengers would board. Yaz saw plenty of people he recognized from the first leg of the trip, including all but one of Silas’s card buddies. There were also ten new faces joining them for the next leg of the trip.

  There was one more stop before Port Steel, but that was a supply depot where they’d pick up food and water. Everyone getting on board now would most likely be going all the way to the city.

  When the last of the supplies had been stowed the barge master said, “All abo
ard.”

  The line shuffled forward, each person handing their ticket to the barge master. Yaz frowned as he passed his ticket to the gaunt, middle-aged man. The barge master for the first part of the journey had been a fat fellow with a bald head, not this hollow-cheeked ghoul.

  “What happened to the other guy?” Yaz asked.

  “Oh, Andy never goes all the way to Port Steel.” The new barge master scrunched up his brow in thought. “He never really said why, just that he couldn’t. I don’t know. We always swap off in Roval.”

  Yaz shrugged and climbed aboard. It didn’t matter who ran the barge as long as they arrived on time at their destination, but he hated when something happened and he didn’t know why. That sort of thing went against his sense of order.

  While Silas and Brigid had their tickets checked, Yaz studied the rest of the passengers. As he did, his gaze locked for just a second with a woman in dark traveling clothes who was clearly checking everyone out just as he was. She looked to be in her early twenties, with long, dark hair and a pale complexion. A flash of understanding passed between them and then they moved on. Whoever she was, she wasn’t just another passenger, that was for sure. Perhaps he’d seek her out for a chat later.

  “Everything okay?” Silas asked.

  “Sure, why?” Yaz asked.

  “You questioned the barge master.”

  “Oh, just excess curiosity. It’s a curse that comes with perfect memory. Whenever something’s out of place, I get this overwhelming need to find out why. It’s annoying, but I’ve come to accept it as a part of how my brain works.”