Siege At The Settlements (Book 6) (12 page)

Chapter 28

G
orlee’s legs were tired. He’d never marched so long and hard before. Walking without sight was ten times harder than with, but he tried to make it look easy. Still, he stumbled. Fell. Only to be jerked up by the brutish claws of the draykis. He hated those things.

“Wait here,” he heard Faylan say.

They stopped. Gorlee picked up more sounds. People. Things. Moving not so far away. His stomach growled.
If I could only make my ears bigger and my stomach smaller
. He didn’t even dare ask for food, because of the biting rope that bound him tighter if he even thought about speaking.

Not one for eating much, he now hungered and thirsted more than ever before. He felt ashamed that he had mocked the dwarves, saying that eating was overrated. But a single dwarf ate like many. Gorlee, by comparison, was a much lighter eater. But now for the first time ever, he felt the bite of hunger.

An aroma caught his nose. He sniffed. There was something fragrant beyond the sweaty burlap sack. His stomach rumbled again.

Is that meat? It’s never smelled so divine before.

He shuffled forward.

A rough hand shoved him down to his knees.

“Be still,” a draykis rumbled. It sniffed the air. “Smells like burning halfling over there.”

Ew … but it smells so good.
He shook his head.
Oh, I hope if they do feed me, they don’t feed me people.
His stomach constricted.
Maybe a nibble
.

He tried to empty his mind and block things out. Focus on all around him. Changelings were highly intuitive people. It was a natural-born part of their magic. It took more than just magic to imitate people. It took strength in many other attributes as well. Gorlee, for that matter, was as good at many things as any man, orc, gnoll, or dwarf could be. Highly durable. Intelligent. Apt. He could mimic many skills and trades just by watching, but for the first time in his life, his abilities were put to the test.

I suffer from this blindness.

He learned however. He used more of his other senses. The sounds of the draykis walking left a clear vision in his mind. The birds in the trees were more numerous than he once believed. Chirps and hoots were from many sorts. His nose tingled before new rain started. He was even pretty certain of the direction they headed. North.

At least I changed before this started.

Changing from one form to another took power, but once the change took form, maintaining it required minimal effort. Still, he couldn’t maintain it forever. At least he didn’t think he could. He wasn’t sure what the longest amount of time was that he’d spent in another form.

Just keep this ruse up long enough and you’ll be free. Must stick it out until I find out more about who the High Priestess is.

On his knees, he remained still. The draykis were like giant tree stumps around him. They hardly moved at all, but occasionally one would shift or rattle its metal.

They make for fine statues.

Minutes later, he heard Faylan’s hooved approach. It brought him relief for some strange reason.

“All is arranged,” she said.

He could feel her right in front of him. She patted his head.

“I almost hate to see you go.”

Go?

He heard her slip a knife from her belt and make her way behind him. He felt her hand clutching the top of the sack that covered his head. He heard and felt her saw the cords that bound it, and he gasped when she pulled it free from his face.

The dim light of the day almost blinded him. He blinked and squinted. They were overlooking a small valley with hills rising all around. It was foggy as much as it was rainy. Campfires glowed dimly farther away and tent posts peeked out above the fog. At least a hundred soldiers of Barnabus awaited him below. Maybe a lot more.

Slit.

Faylan cut off a lock of his hair.

Ow!

He jumped to his feet. The ropes constricted, but he held his ground. He eyed the lock of auburn hair in her hand.

“Just a souvenir,” she said, tucking it in her pouch.

Gorlee eyed her fiercely. He had to sell his anger. Contempt.

Why did she have to do that?

This was a problem. The lock of hair she put in her pouch probably wouldn’t be the same lock she pulled out. Faylan was no fool. She’d be able to figure it out or she’d find someone that would.

She strutted by and down toward the valley.

“Come along.”

Gorlee followed her and the draykis followed him. The soldiers of Barnabus formed two ranks on either side of them. Their faces were harsh. Their comments coarse, but none came within a horse length. Gorlee kept his chin up and strode with his chest out. Inside he was rattled.

As they made their way deeper into the camp, a strange structure could be seen rising in the fog. A metal cage with thick iron bars sat on a high slab of stone. Faylan stopped in front of it, climbed up the stone steps, and swung open a creaking iron door.

“Inside,” she said, smiling a fiendish little smile.

“Aren’t we going to have dinner first?”

“No.”

Gorlee walked up the steps and walked in. Circled inside the cage. It was big enough for twenty men. The heavy iron bars were big enough to hold a dragon or even a cyclops. There wasn’t even enough room for a halfling to squeeze through them.

He gestured with the mystic ropes that bound him.

Faylan laughed.

“The High Priestess will handle that.” She closed the cage door, set the bolt, and locked it with a key. “I hope you like your new home,” she smiled, “or should I say your chariot.”

Chariot? What does she mean by that? There’s no wagon or wheels?

Faylan hopped off the rock and marched over to a draykis that awaited her. It held a hollowed out dragon horn in its clawed hands. The horn curved not once, but twice. Faylan put the small end to her lips and blew.

Ba-ah—rooooooon! Bah—ah—ah—rooooooon
!

She handed the dragon horn back, folded her arms over her chest, and locked her eyes on Gorlee. Everyone else was looking toward the sky.

A black shadow fell over the army. Something whooshed through the air. Gasps and murmurings spread through the camp. Many soldiers hunkered down. Gorlee’s spine froze.

Don’t look. Don’t look.

Slowly, he lifted his chin upward. A dragon circled in the sky above. The scales on its belly were dark and bronze. Its wings and claws were darker than night. Gorlee felt his heart beating in his ears.

That’s a big dragon.

All of his life, he’d hardly seen any, and now they were everywhere.

He wrapped his clawed hands around the bars and eyed it.

It was eyeing him back.

I think this cage is a good thing.

It dropped out of the sky and landed on top of the cage. It rattled and shook everything as its giant claws grabbed hold of the cage. Gorlee held on and watched Faylan wave goodbye.

The bronze dragon’s wings beat in the air, parting the fog and stirring the tents. Up, up, up the dragon went, taking Gorlee and his cage along and leaving the tiny creatures below. Gorlee felt sick to his stomach. He belched and felt queasy.

I never thought I would fly!

Below the clouds and above the mountains they flew, hour after hour. Gorlee marveled at the world below. At the world the dragons saw.

No wonder they rule the world.

He hung onto the bars, facing the direction they were headed. A sense of dread filled him. He wasn’t worried about being dropped, burned or eaten. Something else terrified him.

I’m going to face the High Priestess. She’ll kill me the moment she finds out I’m not Nath Dragon. You can pull this off, Gorlee. You have to.

“Take your time,” Gorlee shouted at the dragon. “My time in the air will be much more splendid than my time back down there.”

Chapter 29

T
he road to the river cities was long and wide from the Jordak Bridge, winding through towns and villages for miles on end. But the next town wasn’t for miles, and staying on the road was too dangerous. After an hour of hard running, Brenwar came to a stop. Huffed for breath.

“I’m not running anymore.”

Bayzog and Ben came to a stop as well. Ben rubbed his eyes.

“We need to hide then,” Bayzog said.

“Well, we can’t very well hide on this road, can we?” Brenwar shot back. He took in his surroundings. The other side of the Jordak was rolling hills and green meadows. It would be easier to track them through the grass than on a heavily traveled road. He shook his head. “Let’s just wait on them.” He dropped the head of War Hammer on the ground and rested his hands on the handle. “Put an end to them.”

“Our goal is to remain sight unseen,” Bayzog reminded him. “Otherwise, they’ll be crawling all over the landscape looking for us.”

“They can’t find us if they’re dead,” Brenwar retorted.

Ben shuffled over to Brenwar and unhitched Akron from his shoulders.

Snap. Clatch. Snap.

The bow string twirled into place.

“I’m with Brenwar. We can handle that lot from the bridge.”

Bayzog’s face lit up. “And the dragon? What if it comes back?”

Brenwar turned to face him. “Which dragon are you talking about, Elf?”

Bayzog sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Dragon will be alright,” Ben said. He patted Fang’s hilt. “He’ll not leave his sword with me for that long.”

“We need to wait on him anyway,” Brenwar said. “I don’t want to go on without him.”

“So your plan is to wait for him to come waltzing down the middle of the road. While the armies of Barnabus run us through and over.” Bayzog shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a worse dwarven plan before. Why don’t you build us a castle out of the grass while we wait?”

Brenwar stiffened and pointed his stubby finger.

“Are you using sarcasm with me, Elf? A wizard at that. Making some sort of jest. To a dwarf?”

Bayzog walked right up on him. “I suppose I am.”

Brenwar grunted a laugh.

Ben chuckled.

Bayzog showed a grin.

“Good then,” Brenwar said. “I’m glad it only took you two centuries to find a sense of humor.”

“And what about the dwarves then?”

“We don’t have humor, we have mirth.”

“In short supply, I’d say,” Ben commented.

The three of them fell silent, gazing at the long road behind them. Brenwar fully expected Nath to come walking down it at any moment. In truth however, he had doubt inside his belly. How in the world would Nath Dragon survive a battle with a fully grown grey scaler without a weapon? It angered him. He should be there for Nath. He’d promised Nath’s father he would be.

“We need to go back for the chest,” Brenwar said.

“We’d have to walk leagues to the next crossing,” Bayzog reminded him. “It would take days. Listen, assuming Nath survives, he’ll be coming this way anyway. He’ll catch up, eventually. I say we keep going.”

The soldiers will catch up with us too, eventually,” Brenwar said. “I say we set up an ambush. After all, they don’t want us. They might want us dead, but they don’t want us.”

Ben spun around, eyeing the landscape.

“There’s no good ground here. It’s all open.” He peered down the road. “And I think someone is coming.”

Brenwar pushed up on his tiptoes. It was dark, but torches could be seen coming their way in the distance. The distant rumble of trotting boots and horse hooves hit his ears.

“The night still gives us good cover, and the sun will rise on our backs.” He looked back at Bayzog. “It will gives us a fine element for surprise if we time this right.”

The part-elf wizard nodded.

“They move slowly. Cautiously.”

“They are not so eager to find us. Perhaps they fear us.”

“I’m sure they fear men,” Ben said, smiling.

They trotted up the road until the sun peeked over the horizon, and then they came to a stop. Behind them, Brenwar could see the sun shining off the dull metal helmets of the soldiers that pursued them. His heart beat harder. His grip on War Hammer tightened.

Ben and Bayzog took positions on either side of the road and kneeled down in the high grasses. Brenwar stood in the middle of the road, resting War Hammer two-handed on his shoulder. He was angry inside. Nath was gone. Maybe for good. Someone was going to pay and it might as well be a bunch of orcs.

“Brenwar,” Bayzog hissed at him, “are you really just going to stand in the middle of the road and greet them like a sailor’s maiden?”

“You do your thing, Elf. I’ll do mine.”

He could hear the troops coming up the road, but they were still out of sight. Brenwar was on the higher ground. The sun now warmed his back. A banner appeared, rising above the road. The flag of Barnabus. A gold dragon against a red and black background. Next rose a horse and rider. Followed by two more.

Brenwar spat on the ground. He suspected it was the orc they had bartered with before. It was in full armor now. Its shoulders were heavy, covered with muscle under metal. The gnolls were just as big and there were maybe another score of soldiers behind them. One by one, they appeared over the crest of the hill with hands up and heads down. The sunlight was bright on their metal. And on their ugly faces.

Brenwar’s black brows furrowed.

“They’re going to regret coming this way.”

Brenwar glanced at Ben and nodded.

The warrior stretched the bow string along his cheek and released to fire.

Twang!

Like a streak of sunlight, the arrow buried itself in a gnoll rider’s chest, toppling it over so it hit the ground.

The orc leader ripped his sword from the scabbard and bellowed.

“Trap! Ride through it!”

It was a good move. Brenwar had hoped they’d scatter, but instead they lowered their heads and ran right at them.

Twang!

Another arrow zipped through the air, catching the second gnoll rider in the leg. Onward the soldiers of Jordak’s Crossing came.

Thirty yards away, the orc leader locked eyes with Brenwar. It made a nasty grin and thundered his way.

Brenwar braced himself and set down his hammer.

The orc let out a triumphant howl.

“Brenwar,” Ben yelled, “what are you doing?”

The rugged dwarf clenched his teeth and lowered his shoulder.

The horse closed in.

Twenty yards. Ten. Five.

Crash!

Brenwar tackled the horse’s leg. The beast and rider plowed over Brenwar and crashed into the ground. Brenwar shook his bearded head and scrambled for War Hammer. He snatched it off the ground.

“Try to run me over, will you? No one tramples a dwarf!”

Across from him, the orc rolled back to his feet and hopped up with his blade ready.

“Fool of a bearded one!” It spat blood on the ground, raised its weapon and charged.

Brenwar yelled back and rushed forward.

The warriors collided. Dwarven metal against orcen steel.

Chang! Chang! Snap!

The orc’s blade broke in the middle. Brenwar swung his hammer full circle.

Pow!

The orc left his feet and was dead before he hit the ground. An angry chorus of cries rose up behind him. Brenwar whirled. Soldiers closed in from all directions. Ben and Bayzog were not heard or seen.

“Come at me, then!”

Ben kept shooting. If Brenwar wanted to tackle a horse, so be it then.

Akron was a marvel in Ben’s hand. Easy to use and deadly accurate.

Twang! Zip!

Twang! Zip!

A soldier of Barnabus went down, clutching the arrow in its chest. Another soldier died with one in his next.

Ben drew another and fired once more.

Twang! Zip!

It punched a hole in the metal belly of a gnoll soldier and dropped him to the ground.

Ben pumped his fist a little. He hated gnolls. They were worse than rabid dogs to him. They were rabid dogs that could talk.

A howl rose up among the soldiers. One pointed less than twenty yards away.

“Seems the surprise is over,” Ben said, dropping Akron to the ground and drawing his own sword. Fang still hung on his other hip. He’d used the mystic blade before, long ago, and had not used it since. He hadn’t even tried. It was Nath’s. “Maybe next time.”

He set his feet in the grass.

A lizard man charged with a spear.

Ben spun.

Chop!

Hacked its leg.

Another lizard man followed. It stabbed. Ben jumped.
Whack!
It lost its tail.

Something clipped Ben’s leg, spinning him around. He jerked back. A club clipped his head. He saw stars and blood, ducked and swung back.

Slash!

A gnoll fell, holding its wounded belly.

Ben struck again and again. His sword banged off metal. Cut flesh. Hit bone. But the soldiers hit back.

Slash! Stab!

Ben parried and punched.

The soldiers crowded him. A gnoll dove onto his legs. A lizard man tackled his arms. Down into the high blood-slicked grasses he went.

Madness.

Bayzog cast his hands over his head and let the first onslaught of magic fly. Bees of bright light erupted from his fingertips. With an angry buzz, they assaulted the faces of the oncoming attackers.

The soldiers of Barnabus swatted, cried out, fell and writhed on the ground. They kicked up dust, screamed and moaned.

Bayzog backed away. He had stopped a few of them, but more were coming. He needed time to summon his energy. A gnoll burst out of the chaos, snarling and making a straight line for him, spinning a spiked flail over its head.

Bayzog didn’t have a spell ready to counter.

I should run.

He stayed and lowered the Elderwood Staff before him.

The gnoll slowed to a stop ten paces away, its evil eyes wary.

“Wizard,” it barked while rattling a necklace of bones on its neck. “Elf. I have no elven trinkets, either.” It barked again and darted straight for Bayzog.

Bayzog jumped aside. Ducked.

Whoosh!

The spiked ball of steel passed over his head. Bayzog tried to recall a spell. Anything.

The hulking gnoll swung the flail like a toy, knotting up its muscular arms. It struck.

Bayzog jumped.

Whoosh!

The spike ripped through his robes.

The gnoll barked and laughed. It spun its mace again.

Bayzog backed up with his staff guarding the front of him.

“With a single word I can destroy you,” Bayzog warned.

The whirling of the flail stopped. The gnoll paused in thought. It rested its big shoulders.

Bayzog took a breath. Wiped the sweat from his eyes.

Suddenly, the gnoll wound its arm, flung the flail and struck him in the belly.

Bayzog groaned and went down on both knees. Pain exploded in his stomach. He looked up. The gnoll stood over him, holding a dagger. It kicked him in the jaw.

“I can destroy you as well, and I will.”

Bang!

Down went an orc.

Bang!

Down went a lizard man.