A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga) (28 page)

If the truth be told, most modern scholars are completely uncertain as to whether the Dragonscales rose as a result of the Cataclysm, or whether they were the cause of it. As stated many times in this work, writings from the time are scarce. The widening of the Broken Bay was almost certainly a part of the Cataclysm. Few maps survived from the Elder Days, and this Historian has only seen one of those. It shows a much smaller bay (labeled as The Bay of Figs), and the Iron Mountains, set in the center of a vast plain. The Dragonscales do not appear, and the Andon is a much less significant river with only a few tributaries.

— “Second History of Gannon, Vol. I” by Elyn Bravano

T
he clank of heavy hammers on red hot metal bounced off the stone walls of the cavern. Ruddy light danced in the shadows, reflected from a hundred hot forges and twice as many sooty torches. Slar far preferred the open air of a Northlands meadow in summer, but the needs of an army were many – weapons and armor far from the least.

“We’ve got ‘round twenty-two thousand scimitars laid away already, Warchief,” the forge master growled. “Chainmail takes longer, but we will move more smiths over to its production when we get to quota on the swords.”

Radgred nodded, his red eyes scanning the hundreds of smiths and apprentices scurrying about. Slar noticed a look close to approval on the old sergeant’s face, something rarely seen, if ever.

“What about pike heads?” Slar folded his clawed hands behind his back. A twinge of tightness remained in his shoulder from the feral dragon’s attack, even though a shaman had healed it not long afterward. “I will need half as many pikes as scimitars, but they are twice as important, especially when we face Human cavalry.”

Radgred spit, and the forge master stared at the stone floor.
Our people are fools to fear horses so. Every other race uses them to great advantage. Even the dwarves ride ponies.

“I have the pikes complete, Warchief.” The forge master bowed his head, a smile of pride visible in the glow of the cavern. “We tempered the last one this morning.”

“Good.” Slar nodded. “Woodsmaster Farrol informed me that the poles have been properly cut. See to it that your work gets delivered to him.”

“Aye, Warchief.”

Raising an eyebrow, now marked with a fresh scar from his fight in the mountains, Slar leaned in closer to the forge master. “And the catapults – you received the designs?”

The burly smith nodded. “Indeed I did, Warchief. Most intricate, and most fascinating. I see no problem with production, as long as the vein within this mountain keeps producing.”

Slar smiled. “It will.” He tapped his chest with a fist. “Well done, Baylax. Keep at it. More smiths will come when the Snake and Bear Clans join us.”

Master Baylax bowed again. “We will have forges and tools ready for them, Warchief.”

Once they mounted the dirt ramp leading out of the pit, Radgred tilted his lips closer to Slar’s ear. “That is the first you have mentioned of Snake and Bear joining us to anyone outside the war council. Was it purposeful, or are your wits aging faster than mine?”

Unconsciously rubbing the hilt of his father’s sword, Slar smiled at his old friend. “It was purposeful. There is a smith here from every tribe, town, clan, and village – and they usually know everyone in that village.” He nodded toward the swirl of fire and activity below. “When they go back to the camps tonight, the rumor will spread faster than molten iron.”

“You wish a rumor rather than announcing to the people yourself?” Radgred ran a curved, yellow claw along his jawline. “You should take some of the credit yourself – fortify your position among the Clans.”

Tilting his head to gain one last glimpse of the glowing forge pit, Slar led Radgred into the recently carved out tunnel. It twisted its way back up toward the main exit from Dragonsclaw. “That would be too presumptuous. A Warchief needs not claim credit, as credit is his due.” His lips twisted into a cunning smile. “Believe me, old friend. We will be ready to greet Dradlo and Sarinn when they arrive with their people.”

Radgred wrinkled his brow. “Those chieftains come with their warriors?”

“Yes. Apparently so moved were they by Galdreth’s visit.”

The old sergeant frowned. “I understand that, but why are you smiling like a white fox with a clutch of goose eggs? Valgrar did not come with Wolf, and he might even be seen as an ally.” Radgred shook his head. “Maybe.” The whites of his crimson-pupiled eyes glittered in the torchlight. “But none of the other clans sent their chieftain, and you have only recently worked out a rough truce in council with the shamans. The Bear and Snake will be far less amenable to you than the Wolf, Shark, and Ram.”

Slar shrugged. “It is not me who needs inspire them. It is Galdreth who is our lord and master now.”

Radgred frowned. “Then you haven’t heard a word I’ve said.”

Patting his old friend on the shoulder Slar watched a young orc in leather running toward them. “Just wait until they arrive, my friend. There are advantages to being Galdreth’s
Chosen One
.”

Radgred held his tongue as the courier stamped to a halt, breathing heavily from his run.

“Warchief,” the messenger slipped between breaths. “A carrier pigeon arrived moments ago.” He handed over a small piece of curled paper. “The message was relayed via Blackstone and Sourbay.”

With a sideways glance at Radgred, Slar took the paper and dismissed the messenger with a wave. The young man saluted and dashed back the way he came.

“Well…read it,” Radgred growled.

Leaning in underneath one of the torches hung upon the wall, Slar squinted to scan the message. Upon finishing it, the knot of fire and pain within his gut that had been silent for the last several weeks burned again. It throbbed, eating away at his insides. He suppressed a sudden urge to vomit. A bit of sour bile rose in his throat, and Slar tasted a hint of blood. He swallowed hard to prevent Radgred from noticing.

“What does it say?” From the expression on Radgred’s face, Slar knew his friend could sense his anxiety.

“The second team has failed. None have reported back to base.” Slar lifted the paper to a torch, watching it burn down to his claw. “I knew more strength was not the proper approach, and now we have exposed ourselves within the borders of the Human kingdom. One of our best-trained trolls, wasted.” He spat on the floor, sending the gobbet into a corner to hide its pinkish color. “I will be forced to apologize to Galdreth for the failure of a plan our master forced upon me.”

Frowning, Radgred folded his arms across his wide chest. “How will you deliver the news to the dark one?”

Slar led his friend onward. The fire in his belly subsided with movement. “It is certain that Galdreth will already know. Our master created the tracing stones that are trained on the vessel.” Slar fought to hide the pain and dread from his former sergeant. “It is only a matter of time before Galdreth appears to me. Our master should soon be rested from its journey to the Bear and Snake.” He clapped Radgred on the shoulder. “Come, old friend. Let us find some lunch, and then we will retire to await our rebuke for failing the impossible.”

T
he swirling black form gathered over Slar, its bright eyes shining down upon his head. The piercing agony in his mind masked the pain in his gut. He winced, a scream gurgling its way to the top of his throat. As quick as it had begun, the pain stopped. The shattering thump within his mind disappeared, leaving only the familiar companion in his bowels. Slar turned his head to see Radgred panting heavily. The veil of pain hung plain in his eyes.

You have failed again, my Warchief. Or perhaps it is just the weakness of your entire race
. The screech of rusty iron rang out from the formless face of Galdreth, its shining eyes glimmering in cadence with its words. Malevolence glared down on Slar.
Nevertheless, you are the only tools at my disposal. I only hope that when our victory is complete, your people will realize the honor I have granted them.

The pain returned, and Slar fought to control his rage, knowing it to be futile. He drew heaving breaths into his lungs, and his claws clenched until they drew blood from his palms. Remaining in his prone position, he bowed his head even farther.
I must draw Galdreth’s attention from Radgred. The old man cannot take this.

“This was my mistake, my Master.” Slar scrambled closer to the swirling mass of black smoke, placing himself between Galdreth and his friend. “I could not get enough soldiers inside the great cities of the humans. The vessel is now in their capital, protected by thousands.” He stretched his hands out, noticing a slight quiver in them. “Perhaps we could find another…”

NO!

The concussion threw both orcs hard against the wall of the cave.

I have chosen my vessel because he is the only one strong enough and young enough for my purposes. I will have no other!

Climbing back to his unsteady feet, Slar dipped his hands in obeisance. “Forgive me, my Master, I beg of you. I did not know. I wish only to offer every idea my feeble mind might spawn.” He knelt down again, casting his eyes in Radgred’s direction. The tough old orc shook his head, fighting to come back to his senses. “We will spend every last warrior to capture your vessel, no matter where he flees. I have worked out a plan to slip into the city from the Great River delta. If we can—”

No, my Warchief.

The voice no longer pained Slar’s ears. He noticed Radgred sit up from the periphery of his vision.

My vessel will move yet once again. They will send him to their Isle of Wizards.
A sizzling chuckle rang through the cavern, lit only by a brazier and the lights of Galdreth’s eyes.
It is more isolated than any of the human cities. But it will require true skill and stealth from your people to capture him there. Will they be ready?

“I will lead a team myself, Master Galdreth.”

No!
Fierceness returned to the steely voice. The dark spirit roiled in a tempest, then calmed. The shining eyes focused upon him.
You must be the one to lead my army once the Bear and Snake arrive. However, this display will take a great deal of my energy, and I will be required to rest for some time before I can go unto the Mammoth Clan. Their lands are a great distance from my prison. It is unlikely I will return before you must move forward with our plans.

“Yes, my Master.” Despite the dark spirit hanging over Slar, a weight lifted from his heart and the tightness in his gut untwisted.
At least I have peace when Galdreth rests.

Radgred tried to crawl up beside him. Slar gave the old orc a dark look and signaled him to freeze.

Now, as to the capture of my vessel. This time I want you to send shamans. The boy gains power even more quickly than I foresaw.

Slar tilted his head. “Will the wizards not detect our team with their magics?”

There is a certain place upon the Isle…

S
moke rose from a thousand campfires, clouding Slar’s keen sense of smell. But no amount of charcoal could cover the scent of nearly one hundred thousand orcs gathered on the plain that spread below Dragonsclaw. Nearly as many orcs stood behind Slar, but their far more familiar scent blew upwind.