Beyond Dagothar (The Oraclon Chronicles Book 1)

by Jason Breshears

  Our gaunleteer ranger is also a very learned loremaster of dwarven antiquities and knows more about the histories of Borderealm than any other Caerean. He is assigned the patrol of the Broken Lands, all of the orc domains of Bholbash Valley including Dijin Castle in the north and Ebrog Pass in the south as well as the centrally located Kag'ar Grul at the middle of the valley. These are the strongholds of the Bholbash orcs. He is assigned to keep watch over southern Devilspire Mountains too, the region under the control of the orcan axemasters who do not serve Kag'ar Grul. Feymark'ul where we hold this gathering is also under Matthias' guardianship.

  Lastly there is Trevor Sindair III. He is as quiet and subdued today as he was two months ago at Conclave. Trevor had fallen in love with an Aelvani wood elf name Weolah, the scandal shocking the other elves of Everleaf Pines. Elven-human sexual relations was unheard of and the matter had been brought to our attention because he is a ranger. Though no laws were broken the elf maiden defied the Aelvani elders and declared openly her love for Trevor. He had informed us that the elfess was pregnant and Cavin at last Conclave reassigned Trevor, removing him from Borderealm proper where Everleaf lies and sent him to patrol the wilds of Splinterdark and Treehelm. These two immense forests were my assignment but I was sent to Arborealm, Everleaf and Enchandrus to replace Trevor. This was fourteen months ago, and still Weolah was with child. Normal elven women give birth exactly after one thousand and eighty days, a race that lives for eons unless they are killed. It is said that in those rare occasions when an elfess carries a child for longer it is always one thousand ninty-five days and the newborn is fated to be a hero. With Trevor being human there is no guessing when his child will be born.

  The reassignment enraged Trevor and he had wanted to fight Cavin, brooding ever since. This merely increased his suspicion of the Poltyrian of the Knightshade family. From the very first appearance of Cavin, Trevor had voiced his doubts about Knightshade's loyalty to our fraternity, to the security of Borderealm. He believed and outwardly voiced that Cavin was here to further the interests of the Poltyrian crown and that even wedding into a local Caerean family was but a stratagem to fulfill this means. Trevor's accusations further alienated himself from the rest of us who accepted Cavin into our order. He accused our First Ranger of being too ambitious, too secretive and given too much lattitude when his reports had been found wanting. I did not agree with Trevor though I will admit that on a personal level I do not like Cavin Knightshade.

  Two months ago everyone was involved in their own investigations, following up on leads and rumors, in the middle of negotiations or still needing to deliver a message. I was doing nothing but patrol and for this reason I was elected to travel west in search of Cavin. But I never made it to Talan Dathar.

  Cavin's fascination with the ancestral ruins of the human race, Talan Dathar in mighty Dimwood, was known to us all. I had only the vaguest idea where I might search for this place but on the way ran into the orcs building a road through the forest. A road pointing directly eastward toward Borderealm.

  Our gear and weapons stacked in piles along the walls beside and under large stone windows, the six of us stood in a circle. Caereans all, we had very pale green eyes and brown hair.

  Michel, my closest friend, my adopted brother, a desert ranger and the only other bowmaster alive.

  Abdias, also called Borderfish, a sea ranger and older brother to Luey.

  Lucretius, or Luey, jungle ranger and poison lore expert, younger brother of Abdias.

  Matthias, or Thunder Hands, gauntleteer ranger and loremaster of dwarven antiquities, my friend.

  Trevor Sindair III, forest ranger, expert bladesmaster and knife thrower, elfess lover.

  Cavin Knightshade of Poltyria, a knight-scholar of Castle Demarsculd made ranger of Borderealm. First Ranger by our election two years ago. His disappearance left me as the sixth.

  I am Josiah Arrowloft, last of my line, forest ranger and bowmaster.

  With the other five listening quietly, I gave my full report, down to the smallest detail as we are trained to do. I related all that I saw among the enemy to my escape, shooting the orcs and winged goblin. As I spoke the others envisioned the hornback orcs, the one-horned ogres chopping down trees, the width of this forest highway cut down somewhere south of Lake Mir Dol'hinnon in Dimwood. At mentioning the ogres Matthias' brow furrowed and when I described the dark-skinned giants in full armor Luey's eyes opened wide. Trevor found the tiny goblin engineers humorous and I could tell Abdias was disturbed at my description of the six-legged beasts the size of bulls and their dark elf masters that had four arms.

  But when I mentioned the gigantic spidery thing with a one-horned ogre on its back directing all the labor Trevor swallowed and Matthias' jaw dropped. I stopped.

  "A Taran Warlord..." Trevor whispered.

  "...on a tarantulak," Matthias finished, glancing at Trevor. This caught our attention, for these two men knew something the rest of did not. Matthias disliked that Trevor was so vocal about his distrust of our First Ranger. Further, Matthias had little respect for a man who would fall in love with an elf. I had no idea what either of them were talking about but it was Abdias who spoke first.

  "What's a Taran Warlord?"

  "He's a tyrant from the underworld," Matthias answered, pulling at his beard. "No doubt you have heard of the Uprising?" We all nodded and Matthias continued.

  "A Warlord well over five centuries ago embarked on a campaign in Hollowrealm deep in the underworld, building a massive army that he then invaded the surface with. His specific mission was to eradicate mankind, some claiming that it was caused by underworld religious beliefs that had persisted since the time of the Minion Wars."

  "Minion Wars? What religious beliefs are you talking about?" Luey asked.

  "Long ago the underworld was full of strange cults, the various races below the world worshipping powerful creatures called Minions. They spread a doctrine that no races or civilizations will ever flourish in the world until humankind was exterminated."

  "So these Minions and their believers invaded about five centuries ago with a Taran Warlord?"

  "No, Luey, the Minions are long gone. Nothing has been written about them in ages. But their teachings may have continued. The Uprising was the first appearance of a Taran Warlord on the surface world. The dwarves of Red Anvil still have many alive who faught at the Battle of Ghul-run, and they have told all they remember about the Warlord. He is a titan ogre, one-horned ogres larger than the cave ogres we are familiar with. The Taran ogres have a double row of unusual teeth, six fingers and toes on their limbs and they are very smart. For reasons unknown this breed is very resistant to magic."

  "Alright, Matthias," I asked, "What does all this mean right now?" The others remained quiet as Matthias collected his thoughts.

  "Okay. The Warlord attempted to exterminate us, Josiah. The hordes under his command totally cut down the First Expeditionary and Second Expeditionary Army of Poltyria...two hundred thousand men."

  "Poltyria can't field two hundred thousand soldiers," Luey gasped.

  "These will pass through Borderealm before getting to Poltyria," Abdias noted.

  "True. Poltyria is not what it once was. Yes, we will have to deal with this before we can expect aid from Poltyria. If any at all. But I don't think that another Warlord will ever make the mistake his predecessor made."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Over five and a half centuries ago the Warlord marched his armies passed the kingdoms and domains of goblins, orcs, dwarves, elves, gnolls and the faeries under Elderboughs and committed his strength against the armies of men. Caereans faught side by side with Poltyrians and at the end of the war only one Borderealm ranger was left alive."

  "Alec Arrowloft...a bowmaster," I said softly, knowing a little of my family history.

  "Yes, Josiah. But in those days all rangers were bowmasters. Anyway, as the Warlord conquered every military force of humans that opposed him the other races assembled in wh
at was called the Fey Alliance. Led by King Craniax the sky giant of Deep Ore Peaks , the armies of faeries were joined by elves, dwarves and even the terrible Magrar of the Illyriac Plain with orc and goblin allies. One vicious battle lasting seven weeks was faught at the Ancient Battlefields of Ghul-run. Toward the end a third and smaller Poltyrian army landed very hastily built ships from the timber of Harrowood. The Warlord was killed, his hordes put to death or chased off and it is known that in these passed five centuries the faeries have never totally recovered from their devastating losses. They distrust and dislike us more than ever now. This one battle took a terrible toll on the elder races and their numbers have never replenished."

  "So this is why the faeries now hide from us? Only Josiah has been accepted into their sanctuaries."

  "No, Luey. In those days they secluded themselves as well. In truth, there have never been any close dealings between men and faeries. Josiah from childhood learned the sylvan speech and for this the faeries regard our brother here as someone unusual. But now, having been almost slaughtered in our defense, you can bet that we're not going to get a lot of cooperation from them now.

  "You need to remember, Luey, the faeries are old. What we consider history is merely memory to them. Every faery still breathing today was alive during Ghul-run and was breathing the air of Dagothar even thousands of years ago.

  "So this war happened about five and a half centuries ago?" Abdias asked, but it was Trevor who answered.

  "A Taran Warlord has not been seen since. Actually, Matthias, the Uprising occurred the same year that the Broken Moon appeared." At hearing this I jerked my head toward Trevor and the motion caught everyone's attention. My chest suddenly burned as if I'd been struck by my own arrows. I remembered.

  The Broken Moon.

  Everyone has heard the stories of the Broken Moon. It was a strange red star that glows brightly in the sky, grows a tail that gets bigger and bigger until it fills the sky with fire, throwing fallen stars to the ground while bringing terrible earthquakes. Cavin specifically told me that the Broken Moon reappears every five hundred and fifty-two years...that there are old books containing records of its appearances for thousands of years. The silence atop the tower caught my attention and I realized that everyone was staring at me. I cleared my throat.

  "What is it, Josiah?" Michel inquired, a concerned look across his face.

  "I think we're in trouble. I think Cavin knew things he did not disclose to the rest of us."

  "What things?"

  "The Broken Moon. Well, it returns this year." The words did not sound like they were mine and they were met with puzzled looks from the others.

  "What are you talking about? No one knows when the Broken Moon returns, it just does," Trevor added, sounding not too sure, attempting to convince himself that this was true.

  "At last Conclave over a year ago he spoke in earnest with me concerning matters he had studied from an old book. He said that he knew for certain that next year the Broken Moon was going to return. He said that it was recorded in the annals that it returned every five hundred and fifty-two years. He mentioned the archives of Castle Demarsculd. He was rather excited about it, but he never mentioned any Uprising or Taran Warlord." The others remained silent as they pondered this, wondering anew where Cavin was. I could almost feel Trevor imagining that Cavin was involved in some dark intrigue.

  "Josiah, we have to assume the worst of Knightshade at this time," spoke up Matthias.

  "Yes, you have to assume First Ranger...at least until he is found. Or returns," Luey stated and his older brother nodded. I looked around at the other three men and saw that the matter was settled, though in my own heart I felt that Matthias was the better choice. He is more suited for leadership. As I was thinking this it was Matthias that went on.

  "This force you saw in Dimwood must be a work detail. They are preparing the way for a much larger group, with seigecraft and such. Otherwise no road so wide would be needed. We must worry about Cavin later, Josiah. We are standing today at the front of a new Uprising."

  His words sank deeply in to us all.

  "The other races will not help us as they did so long ago," Luey remarked.

  "They have little choice in the matter, if what I'm suspecting is true. I don't think the Warlord is going to pass them up again." We all concluded that Matthias was probably correct.

  "We are bound by oath to inform all," Michel spoke, ever the pillar of morality.

  "Does that mean orcs, too?" glowered Matthias. I saw that Abdias had begun staring blankly over the distance at the floodplain. A pigeon suddenly appeared in the window, fidgeted nervously and took flight.

  "Yes, we will alert everyone. At least this may slow down the Warlord's push toward our own lands. I will send a message scroll to the Poltyrians."

  "Good," Abdias said, turning again to face the group. "What would you have us do, Josiah?" With all eyes on me I found that what was needed to be done quickly sprang from my lips.

  "Well, Michel, we will need you to go to Shannidar and Sigils Arch. Prepare them as best you can but do not tarry. Leave the Ayr quickly and go to Deep Ore Peaks. Inform the Galdirin dwarves and get word to King Craniax. I have heard that he still lives." Michel nodded but he was clearly taken aback by the thought of approaching the legendary sky giant.

  "Trevor, go to the lizardfolk and see if they will form an alliance with the Ayr. Then go through Deep Ore as well. If you can't meet up with Michel then go home. Fill Arborealm with this news."

  "Luey, go to Wandering Elms and seek out a huge centaur called Thalleus. Anyone you come across will know who he is. Tell him everything you know. Then go through Deep Ore and back home. Visit all the militia posts in Arborealm. Should I not make it, go to Everleaf as well."

  "Abdias, fly straight as the arrow to Deckers Port. Spread the word in Hinterealm and follow the coast informing all you come in contact with. Then fly the coast from Kings Bane back toward Deep Ore. If there's nothing obvious you need to do then go to Everleaf."

  "Matthias, you and I are going to Devilspire. I'll approach the Bholbash orcs. Once we've seen what is going on we'll split up. I'll take Splinterdark and you can go to Red Anvil." I know this pleased the dwarf-loving gauntleteer.

  As we all gathered our gear and provisions, making sure the drakes were fed and harnessed, I paused to look out over the floodplain. It was a bright and beautiful day. But I knew it was about to get really dark.

  At receiving the dark tidings Craniax came to

  Daethalon. The ancient wyrm, Laer'garoth the

  Old was dying, mortally maimed by a wild wyrm

  he killed in combat. His immense length laid out

  atop a granite platform soon to be his crypt floor

  amidst the buildings of Caedoria, the fading

  dragon-chronicler shared many secrets with the

  legendary sky giant...and quietly listening was the

  young dragon called Navaniz the Bold.

  The Late Caedorian Empire,

  Yald'bar Whitlock, scribner

  Darkfrost Peaks...lair of Navaniz the Bold

  Navaniz very slowly opened his ancient eyes. They had seen many thousands of years and did not open as quickly as they had in his youth. His mind cloudy, he stared at the cracked, black-charred goat skull near the edge of his pile of scattered jade fragments and coins. The goat skeleton nearby was all bone, no trace of hide or hair.

  Has it been so long? he thought. The goats were the last meal he had eaten. Or remembered eating. These skeletons were very aged. Most of his life was now spent sleeping. He recalled that he had scooped up the goats just before winter along the cliff face. Sniffing, the venerable archaic dragon's eyes opened wider at the realization that it was spring already.

  Honeysuckle...clover...mushrooms...rock moss...beetles...he could smell them all...and something else.

  A strange scent wafted into his nostrils. He listened intently, alarm coursing through his gigantic body loosening the stif
fness. Somebody...something, was outside the cave entrance. Something was too close to his lair.

  Long ago he had terrorized some local goblins and struck a deal with them. It was agreed that they would haul up the mountain many loads of cobble stones from a nearby river and spread them out all over the open ledge in front of his cave and he would not eat any more goblins. To the goblins of Darkfrost the word spread quickly that the newly appeared dragon was stupid, hoarding rocks instead of gold. His lair was only accessible by a narrow entry small enough for goblins but larger creatures would have to fly in to it. The rocks brought by the goblins and spread out over the entry ledge had a very good reason for being there. Anything passing over those loose stones would be heard by his keen hearing.

  And Navaniz was listening now.

  Something crushed stones underneath it. They popped, and the old dragon realized that it was these sounds outside that had awakened him. Whatever it was, it covered a lot of ground surface and the rocks hinted that it was very heavy.

  Without moving, lest he disturb the mound of coins, gold ingots, wedges of the greenish gold called pallon, some ornate amphorae and pieces of crafted jade, turquoise and other assorted treasures, Navaniz inhaled slowly tasting the air. He was deep inside his lair. His muscles went rigid. He could feel his heart pumping as acid bile reflexively built up in his gut.

  A dragon. No! A mare dragon...but of an unfamiliar scent.

  Navaniz did not move fearing that he'd give himself away. The tokens of a life he no longer enjoyed were crushed beneath him. He was a great venerable wyrm and the only one of his breed in all of Darkfrost, though it was rumored that a younger black dragon was now living somewhere in northern Dimwood. Pondering why a mare of any breed would visit him rather than this other youth nearby, he stared toward the cave that led outside.