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Publisher’s Note

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

“I
t doesn’t smell right to me,” Brenwar grumbled through his beard.

“What’s it smell like?” Nath said, squinting his eyes and peering down below.

Brenwar snorted.

“Trap.”

Nath huffed. “You said that the last two times, yet no surprises, except us.”

“Trap,” Brenwar said, glowering at him.

It had been almost a year since they defeated the hull dragon just outside of Troghlin. Nath and company had been running all over Nalzambor ever since. They had started with the smaller towns and villages, liberating them one at a time. Bringing hope and peace back to a devastated land. It was little, but better than nothing. It slowed the Clerics of Barnabus and the evil dragons from gaining a superior foothold on all the lands.

Nath raised up out of his crouch. “I’ll go take a closer look.”

Brenwar snatched his arm. “No you won’t.”

Nath twisted out of Brenwar’s iron grip with ease. It seemed that not so long ago, he couldn’t break it at all, but in reality, it was over twenty-five years ago.

“Take it easy, Brenwar. We can scout another day or so if you insist.”

Nath hunkered back down into the dry woodland overlooking the settlement. It was once well known and thriving farming and trading community with a thousands of people that worked west of the Settlements. The land was still good there, or at least it had been. Much had changed since the last time Nath was here. The green forest and high grasses had lost their luster and many of the crops were bare. It happened in times of war, and war was everywhere now. Nath snorted a smoke ring.

“Will you stop doing that,” Brenwar said, covering Nath’s nose.

Nath leaned away. “They won’t see anything. We’re too far.” He held out his scaled palm. Tiny drops of rain splattered on it. “Not to mention the fog that lowers like doom.”

Brenwar turned from him. For another two hours, they sat like the stones their butts rested on.

Fog rolled down from the hilltops into the small town and stretched through the muddy road like a ghostly hand.

“You have a good count?” Nath said.

“Of course.”

Nath had a good count too. Not just the headcount of the enemies that had captured the small town below, but something else. The grey hairs in Brenwar’s black beard were many, the hard lines on his forehead no longer few. Brenwar had seen a lot while Nath slept, and Nath had a feeling it was more than he’d seen in his dwarven lifetime altogether. And there was more to come. He could feel that in his scales.

“What are you staring at?” Brenwar said. “No one stares at a dwarf and—”

“—ever stares again,” Nath finished. “I know.”

“It’s true. Not even dragons.” Brenwar turned from him.

Nath shook his head. He heard Bayzog’s voice inside his head.
Focus, Nath. Focus.
He had to admit that Brenwar and Bayzog had made some progress with him. He was more willing to listen than he had been before. He wasn’t sure if that was from guilt or wisdom, however.
Probably some magi mind trick.
He twiddled his thumbs. Scratched markings with his claws on rocks. Hummed a little tune.

“Will you stop that?” Brenwar’s face was red.

Nath huffed. Rolled his eyes. He was bored. Very bored. They had been watching this village for two days and nothing had happened. The village kept up with its chores under the watchful eye of the Overseers of Barnabus. There were about twenty of them consisting of lizard men, orcs, and Clerics. They carried steel and cracked whips with heavy hands. The villagers gathered supplies for the caravan trains. They pushed carts dusk till dawn and dawn till dusk. The children no longer played. The women no longer sang happy tunes of the old, old world. Instead, they all worked their fingers raw to feed and equip their oppressors.

Nath grabbed Brenwar by the shoulder.

“Let’s go down there and put a stop to this. The fog is a perfect cover.” His golden eyes flashed. “They won’t even know we’re there.”

“We wait,” Brenwar said, combing his fingers through his beard. He eyed it. “Better be no pixie in there.” He grunted. “Aye … we wait. Some supplies be going or suppliers be coming. And I don’t like the smell of this place.”

Nath wrapped his scaled arms around his knees. “You’d let Gorlee go.”

“That’s because he’s a chameleon. You’re a scaly man or a pale-faced dragon. Not sure which, but you’re not going.”

“Need I remind you that you aren’t in charge?” Nath said, mindful of his tone. “And if I want to go, I’ll go … and Brenwar, I think I should go.”

Brenwar looked back at him with eyes as hard as coal. Brenwar’s knuckles were white on War Hammer’s shaft and the leather binding creaked.

The old dwarf said through clenched teeth, “You’re insufferable. Just go. Scout. Be quick and report.”

Nath’s eyes widened. “Are you—”

“Go!”

Nath made it halfway down the mountain, stopped and looked back. It was the first mission Brenwar had let him go on without further planning and consultation. Even though Nath led, they still had input from the groups. They planned. They back-up planned. They backed up the back-up plan. And it worked. Thousands had been liberated. Hundreds defeated.

“Just do it right, Dragon,” he said to himself, heading back down the hill. It didn’t matter if there were ten, twenty or fifty Barnabus soldiers there. He’d take them all. He clenched his fist. “They can’t stop me.”

Near the bottom of the mountain, he stopped and waited within the edge of the trees. Night had fallen. He could see the fog rolling through a field of gravestones nearby. Mounds of dirt from the graves were only weeks old.
Roast the oppressors!

The town was little more than a collection of small buildings used for commerce and storing goods. Small cabins spread out along the edges like mushrooms and beyond that, farms. It was common in Nalzambor. Farmland dotted with towns, each with a special uniqueness and craft of its own. Some towns farmed, and others mined, wove cloth, or made candles. Many raised acres of livestock.

The townspeople were hauling in the last of the day’s work. Soldiers in dark armor inspected the goods. Some of the robed Clerics of Barnabus counted the goods while others counted the people. Nath could smell the evil in them. He could feel the fear in the people too. They were scared. Uncertain of what tomorrow might bring as they tried to live out another day. He donned the hood of his cloak and slipped into town, moving first from cabin to cabin and then from storehouse to storehouse. The people gathered their children, secured their doors and talked in low voices. Candles didn’t even flicker inside the cabins.

Nath picked his way through the town, making a headcount of the soldiers.

Fourteen.

It seemed lean for a town of a few thousand people, but even though the people were superior in number, they weren’t fighters. Their strongest men were probably those who filled the graveyard outside of town. He started to see the inside.
Scout. Report.

He spent the next hour crouched alongside a small cabin on the edge of the town, watching the soldiers patrol back and forth. Lizard men’s tails dragged over the muddy roads. Orcs snorted with harsh laughter. They weren’t worried about anyone or anything. Maybe it was because this village wasn’t that important. Maybe it was because …
They’re stupid.

Backing away along the side of the cabin and around the corner in the back, he turned and found himself face to face with a pair of orcs.

Sultans of Sulfur!

Chapter 2

B
renwar’s stubby fingers checked the buckles on his Dwarven Armor and fingered the chain’s heavy links one at a time.

“One thousand and one,” he said to himself. “Dwarven … The finest armor and ale.” His fingers started to fidget through the links again. “One, two, three, four …”

Below the mountain, the fog had become so thick he could barely make out the small town, and the darkness didn’t help. Still, the small town nestled on the backside of the mountains didn’t make much of a sound. Evil was a quiet business. A viper ready to strike in the night. That was what worried him.

Nath was down there, and he liked to make noise when he wanted to. The fact that nothing yet burned nor had any clamor risen left the tiniest of butterflies in Brenwar’s stomach.

“It’s been twenty-five years, ‘bout time he grew up. Thirty-two. Thirty-three. Thirty-four.”

He had to admit, Nath’s character changes were a little more than surprising. Given his dragonly powers, he’d shown something new. Responsibility. This reborn young man or dragon listened. Took counsel. Made plans rather than just throwing himself right at it. And there was something else. Guilt behind Nath’s golden eyes. And his shoulders hung heavy.

One hundred thirty, one hundred thirty one, one hundred thirty two.

Brenwar had been with Nath since he was a boy: always happy, brave, and somewhat unpredictable. Brenwar had guilt of his own. Though Nath was nothing close to a dwarf, he felt like Nath was one of his own. And he felt like he had failed him. Brenwar had reinforced all the rights and wrongs Nath’s father had told him—if a dozen times, then a hundred—and still, they’d almost lost him. He might even yet be lost.

“Five hundred sixteen, five hundred seventeen … eh?”

The woodland behind him crackled.

Hidden deep in the shadows, he grabbed War Hammer and slowly turned his head.

Slow, soft steps came. He sniffed the air. Nothing. His beady eyes squinted in the dark, gazing left and right. He waited. No more footfalls came. Whatever or whoever it was had sniffed him out. He thought of the satyrs. He’d shaken them a hundred times over the years and still they came. Poking their little heads where they didn’t belong. Playing music that turned his head inside out. If it was the satyrs, he’d end them right now.

“Come out of there,” Brenwar growled.

Two dark figures drifted from behind the tall pines. Small, dark and horned.

“Brenwar,” a familiar voice said, coming closer, “you hid quite well for a dwarf. Even a venerable one.”

“Keep your voice down, Pilpin.”

The little dwarf looked around. “Why?”

“I suppose no one can hear us,” the other dwarf said, coming forward. It was Gorlee, still wearing light grey dwarven robes and sandals. “Where’s Nath?”

Brenwar looked down the mountain. “Where do you think?”

“He slipped out on you, didn’t he?” Pilpin said. The tiny dwarf marched forward with his breast plate stuck out. He slapped the head of his war mace in his hand. “I’ll fetch him.”

“Nay,” Brenwar said, “I gave him my blessing.”

Pilpin stopped and turned.

Gorlee’s bushy eyebrows lifted. “You should have waited on me.”

“I didn’t know when you were coming. Besides, we can’t keep Nath on a leash. At some point we have to trust him … again.”

“He’s come a long way, then,” Gorlee said, eyeing Brenwar.

“He’s further than he’s ever been, and he hasn’t let us down so far.”

“So, you trust him?”

Brenwar shrugged.

“I trust him,” Pilpin said. “Nath has never let us down. Not since I’ve known him. He’s a friend. A good one.”

“Aye.” Brenwar slapped his hand on Pilpin’s armored shoulder. “A good one. But I still think we should shuffle closer.”

“Why’s that?” Gorlee said.

“I think there’s a trap down there.”

“A trap?” Gorlee said, “Then why did you let him go?”

“I told him what I thought. Might as well let him prove me right or prove me wrong.”

“I question your judgment on this matter,” Gorlee said, taking the lead.

Pilpin looked at him and looked away.

Brenwar felt some guilt, but it wouldn’t be the first time he had to bail Nath out. At some point, he had to trust him to do what needed to be done. After all, that’s how dwarves did things. Plan all you want, but sometimes you just have to
do
. He’d made his decision. Nath had made his own. They were both men and willing to live with them.

They made to the bottom of the hill, cut through the fog, and stopped on the edge of the town. All was quiet. Ghostly. The rustle of patrolling soldiers’ armor caught his ears.
There should be more soldiers
, Brenwar thought. A dozen. A few more maybe and that was it. Other cities this small had three times as many.

Squawk!

Silence was shattered.

Squawk!

The sound was loud. Abrupt. It wasn’t a bird that made the sound, either. It was something larger, at ground level.

Shoulda stayed on the mountain
, Brenwar thought.

Gorlee and Pilpin were back alongside him.

“What do we do?” Pilpin said.

Brenwar nodded his chin and headed back toward the bottom of the mountain. Pilpin followed, but Gorlee was gone.
Drat it! Now, one listens but not the other.

Squawk!

Pilpin tugged at Brenwar’s elbow.

“Do I hear what I think I hear?” Pilpin said, pulling the small shield off his shoulders.

“Aye,” Brenwar said, readying his War Hammer. “It be dragon hounds, and more than one of them, I suspect.”

“So, it’s a trap then?”

“And a problem. A big one.”