Dragon Stones (Book One in the Dragon Stone Saga)

by Kristian Alva

  Chapter 13: Faerroe, City of Thieves

  Thorin and Elias had been riding for two days when they finally reached the city of Faerroe. The city itself was about half the size of Jutland. From the outside, the cities looked similar, but that’s where the similarities ended. Disfigured beggars lined the road up to the city gates, crying out with their hands extended.

  “Thorin, what has happened to all of these poor people?” Elias whispered in shock. Elias had never seen anything like it.

  “They’re vagrants. Faerroe is bursting with them. Thieves, too. This city isn’t safe, even during the day. So watch yourself. Most of the city’s inhabitants are involved in black market smuggling.”

  Thorin and Elias walked into Faerroe unchallenged. There was one fat guard at the gate, drinking steaming liquid from a grimy cup. The guard nodded at them as they entered, but otherwise said nothing. Greasy black smoke belched from stovepipes, and raw sewage filled the polluted stream running through the city.

  At one point, a beggar grabbed Elias’ saddle bag and tried to empty its contents. Thorin leaned over and rapped the beggar’s knuckles with his knife handle.

  “Shoo! Go away!” he scolded. The beggar glared, rubbing his sore fingers. He made an obscene gesture, and then skulked away.

  “Thorin, why are we coming here? Can’t we just go around this city?”

  “I need information, and I have an important contact here. We need to find out if it’s safe to take Orvasse River up to Mount Velik. If not, we’ll have to go by the coastline, which will add weeks to our journey. My friend will know if it’s safe to travel the river. He’s a smuggler, but an honest smuggler.”

  “How could someone possibly be an ‘honest’ smuggler?”

  “You’ll see what I mean when you meet him,” said Thorin, smiling. He seemed unperturbed by all of the filth and beggars.

  As they made their way into the city, Elias noticed some merchants on the streets, most were selling prepared food. Some of it was highly questionable. One man offered fresh rabbit, but Elias thought that the skinned carcasses looked suspiciously like cats.

  Another sold fried dough, cooked in hot grease. The man kept chasing away children, all of whom looked like they were starving. At one point, one child kicked the man in the shins, and he gave chase down the block, which was just enough time for a tiny accomplice to steal a few pieces of cooked dough.

  Elias smiled. He was glad these boys were able to get some food. He could see these people were desperate. Poverty and squalor was everywhere. They rode deeper into the city, which didn’t seem to improve. After a while, they stopped in front of a plain house with an iron gate out front. It was two stories, with peeling blue paint. Thorin banged on the gate and called out, “Aye! Aye! Falenrith!”

  A moment later, a thin man poked his head out of the curtains upstairs. “Who is making all that racket?” Then he paused. “Thorin? Thorin Ulfarsson? Is that you?”

  “Aye, it is,” he replied.

  “I’ll be right down,” the thin man replied. They heard a series of latches being opened, and Falenrith swung open the gate. He was tall, with dark hair and a sparse goatee.

  “How are you, old stonebreaker? It’s good to see you again.” Falenrith bent down and grabbed Thorin in rough embrace. “Come in, come in. My daughter has just finished making some flatcakes. We can talk over dinner.”

  “That would be fine, old friend. That would be just fine,” said Thorin. They walked up the stairs, and into a small kitchen. Thorin sat down on a stool. Then he pulled his pipe out of his pocket and started to smoke.

  A young girl kneeled by the hearth, cooking some flattened bread on a heated stone. A boy, about the same age, was carving a block of wood in the corner. The children both looked to be about twelve years old. They were all very thin, just like their father.

  “This is Abby and Braden. My twins.” The children waved, but did not say anything. “Abby, please cook a few extra flatcakes for our guests, and get us all a cup of tea.”

  Abby poured Thorin and Elias each a mug of hot tea. “Thank you, lass,” said Thorin, accepting the cup. A few minutes later, she gave them both two flatcakes, and they settled down on woven mats in the kitchen to eat.

  “So, Thorin, I haven’t seen you in years. What are you doing in a place like Faerroe?”

  “I came to see you. Do you still manage the Shadow Grid?”

  Falenrith grimaced. “Abby and Braden, please go to your rooms. We must speak in private.” Then his voice dropped to a whisper. “Thorin, how can you come out and just ask me about this? Who is this boy? I don’t know him, and I’m not sure if I trust you!”

  “I’m sorry to be so frank with you. But we’ve got a necromancer chasin’ us, and we really don’t have time to be delicate.”

  “A necromancer?” Falenrith sucked in a quick breath. “Are you sure?”

  “I peered into its black eyes myself. It was in Jutland, searching for Elias. This boy is Carina’s grandson.”

  “Carina’s grandson?” Falenrith groaned. “Then it’s begun. I knew that it would happen sometime, but I just didn’t know when.”

  “What are you both talking about?” asked Elias. He was getting tired of everyone talking about him like he wasn’t present.

  “Elias, Falenrith used to be a leader in the Shadow Grid. The Shadow Grid was a network of thieves and spies that worked for the resistance,” explained Thorin. “The thieves in the Grid are unique because they all mageborn, and none of them work for the empire.”

  Elias’ eyes widened. “A whole network of free mages? Why, that’s great!”

  “Sorry to be the bearer of bad news, son, but the Grid is not a network of free mages… as much as a network of starving ones.” Falenrith turned to Thorin. “Things have changed since we spoke last. The Grid has disbanded. The emperor captured or killed most of us. I estimate that less than a dozen remain. I don’t really know for sure. I’ve been in hiding in Faerroe for over five years, and I haven’t cast a single spell in that time. I still do some smuggling. Textiles, mostly. I try to avoid calling any attention to my family. After Muriel was killed…” Falenrith’s voice broke “… I just lost the will to fight. I’ve been raising Abby and Braden on my own here. It’s been difficult, but at least I feel safe.”

  “You feel safe in Faerroe?” asked Elias incredulously.

  “Yes. The city itself is awful, but I’ve never seen an empire soldier in all the years I’ve lived here. This management of the city is such a catastrophe that we hide in plain sight.”

  “Oh, that makes sense,” Elias responded.

  Thorin leaned forward, patting Falenrith’s knee. “I’m sorry for your loss, old friend. Muriel was a good mage and a fine woman. But you can’t stay here. You can’t. The empire is coming. Soldiers will come here, probably within the next few days. You’ll do best to leave the city by tomorrow.”

  “I don’t need your advice, old man,” Falenrith snapped. “In fact, I’m tired of bad news. That’s all I hear.”

  “My advice was well-meant, old friend. You would do well to listen,” said Thorin.

  “Is that why you came here? To give me a warning?” asked Falenrith.

  “No. I came because we need information. We need to know if travel on the river is safe.”

  “How would I know that?”

  “Well, I knew that you handled the smuggling routes. At least you did years ago. But if you know nothing, then we’d best be on our way,” said Thorin, rising from his chair. This conversation was going nowhere.

  “Okay, okay… Wait. Just wait.” Falenrith raised his hand and sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just been so hard these last few years. I shouldn’t have snapped at you. As for the river—you can still travel down the Orvasse River. I also know something else. At the time, the information … it seemed impossible. I thought it was a mistake.”

  “What is it?” asked Thorin.

  “A few weeks ago, I got a cryptic message from Norgu
l. He’s living up north, studying with the free mages in Miklagard. They use bird messengers to monitor the travel routes up there. He said that there has been a lot of military activity near Mount Heldeofol.

  “Isn’t that the orc kingdom?” Elias asked. Thorin’s expression remained calm as always, but Elias saw Thorin’s lips twitch.

  “Yes, it is,” replied Falenrith. “Norgul intercepted a message from one of Vosper’s couriers, but they could not decipher it. The only thing they knew for certain was that the message was from the emperor. It could not have been a forgery. The emperor’s seal was unbroken.”

  “The dwarves also heard rumors, but did not believe it, either,” said Thorin. “Then there is no doubt. The emperor is communicating with King Nar.”

  “Who is King Nar?” asked Elias.

  “The orc king. He’s been wanting to get his revenge on the dwarf clans for a long time,” said Thorin. “If Vosper forms an alliance with the greenskins, then the entire continent is at risk. Orcs have no sense of morality or decency. They will kill everything in their path. I would not have imagined it, but if this is true, then the emperor has truly gone mad. Elias, we must return to Mount Velik at once. Our lives are in more danger than I originally predicted. I’m sorry, but we will not be going to the Elder Willow.”

  “Where will we go next?” asked Elias.

  “Take the Orvasse River. It’s safe,” said Falenrith. “I have a friend who charters boats at Hwīt Rock. If you make it to the outpost, then he will transport you to Mount Velik. The captain’s name is Gremley and his boat is the Chipperwick. He’s smart and fair, and he doesn’t ask too many questions. Just tell him that I sent you, and that you wish to go to Ironport. That’s only a few leagues from Mount Velik, and it won’t arouse any suspicion.”

  “I believe I’ve met Gremley. I purchased a passage from him over a dozen years ago—he might remember me still. That’s it, then. We’ll head towards the Orvasse River tonight. Once we get to Hwīt Rock, we will charter a boat and travel to Mount Velik,” said Thorin. “It’s the fastest way.”

  Falenrith stood up, and shook both their hands. “Good luck to you both. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”

  “What will you do?” Elias asked Falenrith.

  He shrugged. “I’m not sure. We’ve moved before, and under greater duress than this. We can’t go east—the emperor will kill us. If we’re lucky, we might make it to Miklagard alive. We’ll have to travel over the mountains and through Lockdell Barrens, so we’ll have to wait until the weather improves. If we leave Faerroe, we might be able to stay further south. I have an aunt in Starryford.” Falenrith paused and ran his hand through his hair. “I must go tell my children. You can let yourselves out.” he turned and walked out of the room.

  “He’s upset, Thorin,” said Elias.

  “I expected him to be. No one likes to hear bad news. It’s better that he finds out now. At least he can make an educated decision. The emperor has been searching for him for years, and there is still an active bounty for his head.”

  Elias peeked around the corner, and saw Falenrith talking quietly to his children. They looked so thin and fragile.

  “Let’s go, boy. We’ve worn out our welcome here,” said Thorin quietly. “We’ve got to leave. There’s some hard day’s riding ahead for us.”

  “It seems like hard days are ahead for all of us,” thought Elias.

  ***