“Have you any news on your journey from the human lands?” asked the guard.
The convoy leader cleared his throat. “We had one encounter on the way here. We happened upon a large contingent of ogres who had been camping near our path. They hadn’t expected our group to be coming along, and were unprepared when our scouts had come upon them. Our frontal forces had been able to dispatch a number of them before they could regroup and counterattack. By then all of our forces were engaged as we were trained, and we held steady under the onslaught. An ogre wielding an ice axe appeared, but the gods intervened.
“Oh?” said the guard. “How so?”
“Apparently an axe had appeared out of nowhere,” said the dwarf. “I didn’t witness it myself but others in my group had seen it. It severed the ogre’s head from its shoulders and then an earthquake struck. Right after that, the mysterious axe exploded and vanished.”
“Interesting,” said the guard. “And what of the ice axe?”
The convoy leader shook his head. “We could not find it. Either the god had claimed it for himself, or an ogre had found it and run off with it.”
“That’s too bad,” said the guard. “Are you sure magic wasn’t involved?”
“It’s doubtful,” said the convoy leader. “If there was magic, it was on our side. Why do you ask?”
The guard scratched his beard. “Well, we just had a patrol come back from the furthest of our return paths from the humans’ realm. They had come upon the scene of a convoy that had been attacked. The convoy had been defeated with the aid of magic, and the gold and valuables had been taken.”
“The ogres we defeated had gold and valuables in their possession!” exclaimed the convoy leader. “It must have been the same group!” He pointed to the overloaded chariots. “Much of the gold you see is from our encounter!”
The guard looked back. “Well done! Your chance encounter has resulted in saving what was lost. The gods have surely been watching over us.”
Olag could contain his curiosity no longer. He took a chance and spoke. “Excuse me, Sir, but you said earlier that magic was involved in the attack on the other convoy. How do you know this? Were there survivors?”
The guard looked at him curiously as he debated whether to answer a civilian.
“I had friends in that convoy,” added Olag.
The guard’s face softened. “Ah. I’m sorry to hear it. From what I was told, the patrol said they had seen signs of burning consistent with magic and there was one survivor who confirmed the presence of a lizardman. I don’t know whether to believe the story or not, but if it’s true, I think it may be an isolated incident. I don’t think the ogres are smart enough to hire lizardmen. If they were, we would have encountered more magic when our convoys were attacked previously, and I haven’t heard of anything like that so far except for this one incident.”
Olag was ready to inform him of the lizardmage he had seen, but realized he may have been the only one in his convoy to see him. If he spoke about it, he would surely be questioned, and his background would be put under scrutiny. Instead, he asked, “Do you know who the lone survivor was?”
The guard shook his head. “No. All I know is it was a civilian. I think he claimed to be a mapmaker. He’s been sent to relay his story to the king.”
Olag’s heart was in his throat. A mapmaker! Harran was a mapmaker. Could it have been he? “How long ago did he come through here?”
The guard scratched his beard. “About a half a day ago. Excuse me,” he added as they approached the gate leading to the dwarven tunnels, “but I have work to do. The earthquake has done some minor damage to the battlements and I must oversee the repairs.” He rode ahead with the convoy leader and they spoke to some tunnel guides. Arrangements were made to move the supplies and gold to wagons drawn by miniature oxen, a favourite breed of the dwarves.
During this time, Olag filled Zylor in on what he had learned from the guard.
Zylor seemed skeptical. “I don’t know. What if the survivor was someone else? We would be going into the heart of dwarven territory for nothing. Besides, Harran wouldn’t go interfering by talking to the king. That could change history, and he knows better than that.”
Olag was surprised at Zylor’s lack of faith. “What if he had no choice? The guard said he was ‘sent’ to the king. That implies he had no choice. If he’s the only eyewitness who saw the lizardmage, he’s the one who has to tell the king personally.”
“If Harran was the sole survivor,” argued Zylor, “he wouldn’t have said anything about lizardmages in the first place.”
“Unless he didn’t know that they didn’t know about them!” spat Olag. “Did you know the dwarves aren’t aware of lizardmen being in these parts? I didn’t. I saw one, and maybe you caught a glimpse of him, but no one else saw him.”
“I don’t know,” said Zylor uncertainly.
“Do you have any better ideas?” snapped Olag. “I’m going to wherever the dwarven king is, because that’s where Harran went. If you don’t want to come along, suit yourself.”
Zylor was surprised at Olag’s vehemence. It spurred his bloodlust to kick in. “You are right. We haven’t got any other leads. Let’s do it!”
“Good,” said Olag. “And remember, we have Kazin’s rings to instantly teleport to his location if something goes wrong.”
“Good thinking,” said Zylor, “but there’s one problem.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you know the way to the dwarven king’s home?”
Olag grinned. “We just go where the gold goes.”
Zylor laughed and slapped the skink warrior’s back with an invisible hand. “Of course! I should have thought of that!”
There were still a few minutes before the gold was scheduled to depart, so Zylor and Olag came up with a way for Zylor to communicate silently without speaking. This was needed as the next leg of their journey would be cramped and any noise Zylor made was bound to expose his presence. So they worked out a series of taps where the minotaur could tap Olag to let him know certain things.
When that was sorted out, Zylor had Olag obtain some parchment and writing implements so the minotaur could draw maps of their progress through the mountain. That way they could backtrack and leave the mountains should the need arise. They even paused to confirm Zylor could use the writing implements and parchment without those items becoming visible to anyone other than Zylor. The minotaur was glad he had learned the skill from Harran. It was a skill that no other minotaur could boast about having.
Shortly thereafter they were underway. The light of day gave way to the darkness of the tunnels and Zylor inwardly thanked Harran again, this time for having the foresight to purchase sight giving wildhorn leaves before he was captured.
Olag didn’t require any, being naturally able to see in low light conditions. The dwarves in the convoy traveled with torches and this was more than enough for them to see where they were going. Side tunnels appeared at intervals and here and there dwarves left the main convoy to go to other destinations. Olag and Zylor stayed with the oxen and carts, because they were destined for the king’s treasury.
They stopped to take breaks at convenient intervals, and even encountered underground streams where they and the oxen could obtain fresh water. Zylor was thankful there were no tunnels that were too small for him to travel, although there were a few places where he had to duck his head to avoid hitting his horns on the tunnel roof. He followed the party at a discreet distance so as not to be heard, and the close quarters meant his scent could potentially be picked up if he was too close to another dwarf. Thankfully most dwarves had weak noses - almost as weak as humans - so he wasn’t too worried about the latter.
Olag kept to the back of the group as well, providing a buffer between the invisible minotaur and the rest of the convoy. Any minor noises Zylor made were assumed to be c
oming from Olag.
At one break Zylor discreetly showed Olag his map of their current location. They were much lower in the mountains, and the temperature was considerably warmer as a result of their proximity to a lava flow that meandered along beside their path. The path appeared to have been cut into the rock many years ago, undoubtedly by dwarven craftsmen. The path was solid and smooth, and weathered only in areas where rock slides had made their mark over the centuries. Olag was impressed with Zylor’s ability and commented on it more than once.
Zylor insisted it was amateur work compared to the maps he had seen Harran draw.
The rest of the trip was uneventful, and both Olag and Zylor were surprised to learn that they had reached the capital city of the dwarves within twenty-four hours. Zylor was slightly disappointed that there were no foes to fight, but concluded the dwarves had rid the area of monsters years ago. No threat could be expected so close to the dwarven capital. Indeed, there were no guards evident at the entrance to the city.
Once within the city limits, most of the remaining civilians in their party veered off to find their homes or the nearest taverns or inns. Zylor tapped Olag’s shoulder and the skink warrior-dwarf turned off into a side street.
“We’d better not stay with the carts of gold,” murmured the minotaur when they were out of earshot. “The guards might become suspicious.”
“Agreed,” said Olag. “But we have to follow them to get to the castle.”
“I agree,” said Zylor, “but it’ll be tricky for me to keep up with mapmaking with so many side streets to mark.”
“Maybe you should only mark the major routes,” suggested Olag. “You can mark any unusual or memorable landmarks for additional reference.”
“Good idea,” said Zylor. He looked after the convoy. “We’d better get moving so we don’t lose them.”
Olag led the way, keeping a safe distance behind the wagons of gold. Zylor frequently signaled Olag with the arm signal when he needed to stop and mark the map. This carried on for about half an hour when they finally spotted the king’s palace ahead of them. They stopped in awe of the incredible sight. The entire castle seemed to be made of gold. All of it, from the pointed spires to the walls, buttresses, and even the gate radiated its own golden light. It was as though a thousand torches were lit, reflecting off its surface, yet no torches could be seen.
The procession of carts was ushered through the gates, which closed silently again behind them.
“Well, now we know what they’re using all that gold for,” said Zylor.
“I’m sure not all of it is in use,” said Olag. “I’ll wager there is a sizeable stash of gold stored somewhere within those walls.”
“But it’s not the gold we’re after,” reminded Zylor.
“True,” answered Olag, “but my guess is if Harran is anywhere to be found, it’s somewhere within the castle. We have to find a way to get inside.”
Zylor shuddered as he thought of the last time he had been in a dwarven castle. That time he had been a prisoner and had to break out. This time he was being asked to do the opposite. “I could take out some of the sentries. They wouldn’t see me coming.”
“Chances are that would set off an alarm,” said Olag, shaking his head. “Then it would be impossible to do anything with all of the guards on alert.”
“I’m open to suggestions,” said Zylor.
Olag considered. He looked down at his satchel and an idea began to form in his head.
“Go on,” urged Zylor intently. “You look like you’re onto something.”
Olag grinned mischievously. “I see my thoughts are more noticeable in this dwarven body. Yes, I do have an idea. I think a more subtle approach is required for this part. Follow me, Zylor, and on my cue make sure to squeeze past me to get inside past the gate.”
Olag walked up to the gate where a sentry resolutely stood on guard. Two more sentries stood behind the gate watching the stranger approach.
“Good day,” said Olag cheerfully. “I have a delivery for Hagen Ironfaust. He is one of the king’s elite guard.”
“I know who he is!” snapped the sentry. “Give it to me and I’ll see that he gets it.”
Olag shook his head. “He wanted me to deliver it personally. I made some modifications to the item and he needs to inspect it first. If it’s not satisfactory, I have to take it back and make any necessary changes. Giving it to you will only delay matters.”
“What is it?” snapped the sentry, obviously not pleased at being prevented from taking the item inside himself.
Olag withdrew the chain mail Harran had taken back in time with him.
When the sentry saw the chainmail, his eyes opened wide. He briefly inspected the engravings. “Where did you get this?!”
“I told you, Hagen entrusted it to me,” said Olag calmly. “He wanted some alterations made and I made them. Do you want to call him out to explain his wardrobe changes to your satisfaction? I’m sure he’ll be overjoyed to explain why he’s gained weight and needs alterations made to his chain mail.”
The sentry reddened. “No, no. That’s not necessary.” He turned to the guards behind him who were snickering at his predicament. “Open the gates!” he ordered.
The guards opened the gates and Olag smiled a charming smile at the sentry as he walked past. “Thank you.” As he passed the inside gate, his pack got caught on the edge of the left gate.
Olag tugged at the pack. “Oh, my. It’s snagged.”
One of the inside guards sprang to aid Olag in freeing his pack. As he worked, the other sentries looked on. None of them noticed as Olag made a gesture with his fingers behind his back. A light tap on his arm indicated that Zylor had passed by.
The guard freed the pack and handed it to Olag. “Here you go.”
“Thank you,” said Olag with a smile. He waved to the outside sentry and then turned to go.
“Do you need any directions?” asked the other guard.
Olag turned back to him. “That’s not necessary. I’ve been here before. Thanks anyway.”
The guard nodded and helped his counterpart close the gate.
When they had gone around a corner out of sight of the guards, Zylor spoke. “You’re smooth, Olag, very smooth.”
Olag hissed at the compliment. “Thanks. But that was the easy part. Now we have to find Harran and get out of here. I don’t want to be in this place any longer than I have to.”
“Agreed,” said Zylor.
Chapter 22
Arch Mage Gresham looked at the assembled mages and their mounts. The dragons varied as much as their masters. Some dragons were metallic in colour, ranging from red to bronze to green. Others were more drab in appearance, being mostly black or brown. Violet’s white dragon contrasted with all the others, being the only white one among those assembled. Colour was not the only difference. Size and girth also distinguished them from one another. There were a couple of smaller, younger dragons all the way up to some larger, more intimidating ones. Some dragons were slender and flexible, while Belham’s Fillith was rotund and bulky. It was an interesting cross section of the dragon population. There were fifteen dragons in all so far, and the count was growing.
Gresham had imparted information on the failed orb control attempt he had witnessed and all of the riders and dragons had listened intently to the story. It reinforced the importance of keeping both the rider and dragon protected from life threatening situations. It also proved how important it was to have complete mastery of the dragons. Some, like Belham and Fillith, had a strong healthy bond and therefore there was little strain for Belham to maintain control. Others had a more tenuous bond, particularly those with older, more experienced dragons. But even those dragons were heedful of Gresham’s story, realizing how fragile their own existence was since it was now reliant upon the survival of their new masters. No one relished the idea of
either the dragon or mage losing their life.
“Did you find out who the other dragon rider was who intervened on your behalf?” asked Brendan.
Gresham shook his head. “No. Whoever it was managed to disappear before I could catch up with them.”
“Do you think they got hold of one of the orbs without our knowledge?” asked a female master mage. Her name was Sasha and she rode a large black dragon called Hess.
“It’s possible,” admitted Gresham, “but I can’t say for sure.”
“We have all orbs accounted for,” said Violet. “There are none missing, except the one that was shattered when the master mage lost control of his mount.”
“Are you sure?” asked another master mage with a green dragon.
“Definitely,” said Violet. She looked at Brendan for support.
“She’s right,” said Brendan. “Our orbs are all accounted for. Whoever was out there was controlling a dragon using some other means.”
Murmurs spread throughout the group and Gresham held up a hand to achieve silence.
“Be that as it may,” he said, “we will need to concentrate our efforts on the war. If there’s someone else out there, hopefully they see fit to show themselves again. We will need all the help we can get on the battleground.”
At that instant, a horse rider came galloping up to the mages and their dragons at full speed. The rider reigned in at the foot of Gresham’s dragon. It looked tiny compared to the massive dragon. Waving up to Gresham was Arch Mage Sallow.
“Sallow!” called Gresham in greeting. He quickly got off the dragon to speak with Sallow. “What news have you?” He spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear.
Sallow dismounted and walked up to Gresham. He took his cue from Gresham and spoke loudly as well. “I have received a number of reports from mages who have aerial familiars. Most of the familiars have returned from an extended flight out beyond our front lines and report that the enemy is preparing to move out. It looks like they are getting ready to make an attack on our forces. Their numbers seem to have grown, if many of the accounts are correct.”
Spirit Blade: Book III of the Dragon Mage Trilogy Page 26