Dragon Stones (Book One in the Dragon Stone Saga) (14 page)

“That’s a clever lad,” said Thorin, smiling.
“We’ve got a few days of travel before we’re out of this forest, so
you may as well learn somethin’ useful along the way.” A few
minutes later, Thorin started to hum quietly. Elias smiled.
Thorin’s positive attitude was infectious. They rode on at a steady
pace, keeping off the main path.

Elias flipped to the map in his
grandmother’s journal. They were travelling east. If they travelled
fast, they might make it Faerroe by tomorrow evening. From there,
it was at least five days by horseback to reach Orvasse River.

That’s if they made it out of Faerroe
alive.

***

Chapter 11:
Mitca’s Bad News

Back in Parthos, Sela paced nervously in the
corridor, waiting for King Mitca to arrive. A few moments later,
one of the king’s guards popped his head through the thick curtains
outside the chamber.

“
Mistress Sela, you may
enter.”

“Thank you,” she replied. She handed the
guard her dagger and short sword. Even the dragon riders were
prohibited from wearing their weapons in the king’s throne
room.

“Sela, thank you for coming to speak with me
in private,” said the king. “Please sit.”

Sela took a seat at the table, and the king
stepped down to join her. There was a bowl of fruit on the table,
and she picked absently at some grapes. Her heart pounded with
emotion. Even though years had passed since they were lovers, it
still made her uncomfortable to be alone with the king.

The other dragon riders didn’t know that
Sela and Mitca were past lovers, although Tallin suspected
something, and told her as much. Sela denied the relationship, but
her face betrayed her true emotions. It was impossible to keep
anything secret from Tallin. He seemed to know everything about
everyone.

“Sela, this is not a social call,” said
Mitca.

“I know,” Sela replied. “I am reading the
reports from all over Durn. The news is discouraging. Even the
dwarves are preparing for battle.”

“How goes the training?” asked Mitca.

“Not very well. Riona and Stormshard are too
headstrong. Hanko and Charlight are skittish, and Tallin and
Duskeye are uncontrollable. Karela and Orshek may never be ready to
take a rider. Their training goes slowly. It’s… disheartening.”

“Then you must work harder. Accelerate their
training. All of the riders have to be ready for war, and time is a
luxury we can no longer afford. The emperor’s armies are gathering
in the east. Parthos is no longer safe. I lost six of my best
soldiers last week to a Balborite assassin.”

“Another one? That’s the second one this
year,” said Sela.

“Actually, it was the third. You and Brinsop
killed one, and Tallin and Duskeye found another travelling alone
in the desert. This most recent attack actually reached the city
gates. Three of my guards fell instantly, and two others were
stabbed with daggers laced with kudu oil. One of my captains
managed to remove the dagger in his arm and stab the assassin. Only
minutes later, they both died in convulsions from the poison.
Neither wound would have been fatal otherwise.”

“How come I did not hear of these other
attacks?” Sela pounded her fist on the table. “It’s my job to keep
the city safe!”

“A king must keep his own counsel. I did not
anyone to panic. I do not presume to be told how to do my job, even
by a dragon rider.”

Sela hung her head, chastised. “My lord—how
can I prepare for future attacks if I am not allowed to study the
enemy?”

“All of the assassins were killed. You know
that a Balborite can never be taken alive. Tallin and Duskeye
captured the one they found, but he was dead before they returned
to the city. The assassin committed suicide, along the way, without
using any weapons.”

“Did the assassin poison himself?”

“Duskeye carried the body back to the palace
so we could examine it. My surgeon performed an autopsy.”

“What did you discover at autopsy?”

“The assassin’s flesh is marked everywhere
with magical tattoos. Wherever there was a tattoo on the skin, the
surgeon’s knife would not enter the flesh. Tallin had to intervene.
He cast a spell to pierce it. When the doctor opened the assassin’s
chest, we saw that the heart had burst. It was shattered within his
chest. And directly above it was a black stone, implanted near the
sternum.”

“A runestone!”

“Yes, it was a runestone, enchanted with
black magic. I had never seen one up close. Tallin told me not to
touch it, because the enchantment could still be active. We were
able to make the runes visible, but neither Duskeye nor Tallin
could decipher the spell. The stone bore an inscription in the
Balborite language. That is all that we know. It is unlikely we
will ever take any of the Balborite mercenaries alive—they cannot
risk anyone deciphering their secrets.”

“The runestone blew a hole in the assassin’s
chest?”

“Yes. As long as the assassins are conscious
and able to speak, they will be able to kill themselves to evade
capture. I had the ashes of the other assassin examined, and we
found an identical runestone in the remains.”

“How about if we use a sleeping spell, or a
paralyzing agent? If the assassin cannot talk, then he cannot voice
the enchantment. We could capture him alive.”

“Yes, it’s possible that would work—but to
what end? How are we going to question him? As soon as we grant him
the ability to speak, he will use the spell to activate the
runestone.”

Sela sighed. “You have a point. Do you feel
like the danger has escalated?”

“Yes, definitely. My scouts have returned
with grim news from all across Durn. The emperor has started
conscripting youths for his army, and he is using outside
mercenaries.”

“This is old news. The emperor has been
assembling troops for over a year. What has changed?”

“It’s not what you think. The mercenaries
are orcs.”

Sela gasped. “Orcs? The emperor is using
orcs? That’s absurd! Orcs eat humans!”

“Yes, I know. Presumably, the emperor signed
a treaty with the orc leader, King Nar, last winter. The orcs have
been growing their number for years. Their main outpost is in the
northwestern part of Durn, in the caves of Mount Heldeofol. King
Nar has been waiting for years to get his revenge against the
dwarves. Presumably, the emperor has offered Mount Velik as spoils
of war if the orcs help him.”

“Even the emperor’s army will refuse to
fight alongside those monsters.”

“They won’t have to. Look at their
positions.” Mitca pointed to a large map on the wall. “The emperor
plans to flank our city and attack us from the north and the east.
It is also likely that he will hire mercenaries from Balbor to
attack us from the west. The emperor wants Parthos destroyed at all
costs.”

“But why now?”

“The prophesy. Once I received the note
about the dragon stone, I knew that things had gotten serious. The
emperor knows that we are harboring dragon riders. He wants to make
sure all of them are killed, even if it means he has to work with
orcs in order to do it. He has entered into this unholy alliance as
a last resort.”

Sela sighed. This was truly alarming news.
“Mitca, if orcs capture this city, everyone will die. The
greenskins will slaughter every man, woman and child.”

“I know. That’s why we have to make sure it
doesn’t happen. I have already sent a messenger to the dwarf king,
Hergung. We’ve had a strained relationship until now, but we have
little choice but to work together. He has already responded in the
affirmative.”

“What are your orders?”

“Brief the other dragon riders, but do not
tell anyone else. You have one month to finish their training.
After that, I will be sending each of you out to collect
information and perform certain... tasks. Orshek and Karela will
stay behind to guard the city.”

“Orshek and Karela? But they are too
young—and who will communicate with them?” asked Sela.

“One of the palace mages, Alboline, can
speak some dragon tongue. She will train alongside them so she can
practice. The dragon riders are my best defense inside the Death
Sands, but I can’t afford to keep you here any longer. You have to
go out and collect information. No one else can travel as fast or
as far.”

“How about the elves?”

“The elves care little about human
suffering. They live out their immortal lives in enchanted cities,
and that is where they shall remain. They did not come to our aid
during the Orc Wars. Why would they intervene now?”

Sela hung her head. Mitca was right. An
alliance with the dwarves was their only hope. If Emperor Vosper
had already formed an alliance with the orcs, then they had to move
as quickly as possible. Parthos and all of its citizens were in
grave danger. Sela rubbed her temples. She had a pounding headache.
She could feel the tendrils of Brinsop’s consciousness. Her dragon
knew that something was wrong, and he was already waiting on the
fortress ramparts for her.

“I hear and obey, my king.” Sela ended their
conversation formally, and walked out of the throne room. Mitca
heard Sela’s soft footfalls as she left the chamber. This was the
greatest threat that his city had ever faced. How was he going to
tell his people?

***

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?”