Dragon Alliance: Rise Against Shadow (67 page)

“Whatever,” Lawrent said. “I’ll have to slap old Dekeen around tonight if the master archer graces us with his presence.” He rolled his eyes and gave his normal mischievous toothy grin. “I know how much he and his kin love to be around me and my men.”

“Lawrent, you piece of whale dung,” Jodem spoke to the raider leader as he and Toderan walked up to the Freilander and Mkel.

“Ah, Master Wizard Jodem, the wise and powerful, a pleasure as always,” Lawrent replied, still smiling.

“A pleasure indeed; you lost another wizard, how careless and inconsiderate. I would guess you already have another candidate?” Jodem said with a slightly scolding tone.

“He fought bravely but was just not quick enough to avoid the saragwin spear. He died a raider’s death, brave and honorable, taking many foes with him as well as defeating two Morgathian and Shidanese sorcerers,” Lawrent said, defending his position.

“The Morgathians are putting sorcerers on their ships now?” Jodem asked.

“Yes and the Shidan ships are also starting to do the same, but they are usually inexperienced,” Lawrent answered.

“They must have unearthed more dark crystals to be actually stationing magic users on their own ships, not to mention the mongrel Shidanese,” Jodem said with both disgust and curiosity. “I wonder why there has not been news of this from any Alliance warships or merchant ships.”

“That’s because they have been avoiding all ships flying the Alliance flag. We are even hunting those ships that are taking maneuvers to get out of the way of any of your vessels,” Lawrent stated.

“This is very curious and doesn’t make sense,” Jodem said, puzzled.

“Well, I am glad to see your undisciplined brawlers take down any Morgathian ship on the seas; you do serve some purpose, at least,” Toderan said, reaching to grasp Lawrent’s arm.

“Good to see you too, paladin,” Lawrent replied with his normal smile to the somewhat stone-faced Toderan, even though he did have an ever so slight smirk at the corner of his mouth that Mkel noticed. Toderan, while he didn’t overly like many of the facets of the Freiland raider life style, did respect their fighting ability and seamanship, and liked having them as an ally. “I’ve got some of our best stag meat for you as well as that smoked river fish, along with a cask of Shidanese ale,” Lawrent added; with that, Toderan’s eyes slightly widened, for both meats that Lawrent said he had were particularly succulent. The Shidanese, who didn’t consume wine or ale made from grains, because of their religion, made a very potent and sought-after concoction. However, their less devout consume this very thick but sweet ale, usually at sea. Shidanese ale was made from special types of beans and sweet stalks that grew in that region of the world.

“I look forward to having a small taste, but now I believe I owe you and your men the first barrel of our best ale,” Mkel interjected as he ushered the group to the Weir’s tavern. “Plus I know Sternlan is waiting to see you, for I think you owe him something,” he continued.

“Ah, the Canaris leaf I promised him,” Lawrent said.

“You do have it, don’t you?” Mkel asked as he led the group from the wagons to the tavern.

“I would never forget a gift for the crotchety old curmudgeon,” Lawrent replied.

Mkel knew he had great respect for the old warrior, who fought along with the raiders in the Great Dragon War to repel the Morgathian incursion in the swamps of the Adelif Peninsula. The 9
th
Legion had saved a Freiland battalion from annihilation but suffered heavy casualties of its own. Sternlan had been with his platoon in a battle where he alone walked out alive.

They all proceeded into the tavern, where Mkel ordered the first barrel to be tapped. Lawrent’s men began to stream in after the ships and the cargo were secured. The trading would all happen over the next several days and weeks, although some exchange in foodstuffs would go on tonight, with the raiders supplying rare seafood and foreign delicacies for Alliance beef and steak, and the many other dishes that the Weir’s cooks were known for.

Soon after the kegs were tapped, almost like a griffon tracking its wounded prey, Ordin, Dorin, and dozens of their dwarven clansmen started to filter up from the lower levels of the Weir.
They could smell ale through rock,
Mkel thought to himself as the five-foot-tall stocky dwarves shuffled into the tavern.

“You scurvy sea dog, a lot of nerve to show your ugly face here,” Ordin shouted to Lawrent. “You piece of slimy flotsam!” Dorin added.

“Hah, an invasion of the ill-tempered short people!” Lawrent bellowed. “Raiders, raise your tankards. To our dwarven brothers, may your beards always grow and your courage never falters.” Over one hundred fifty of Lawrent’s men stood and raised their drafts and yelled in a salute to the dwarves. A big smile came over all the dwarves’ faces, especially Ordin’s. All present took a big drought from their tankards, including the dwarves, who were quickly given full mugs. The Freiland raiders and the dwarves shared a common fondness for drinking and carousing, along with their almost fearless way of fighting.

“Let the drinking begin,” Mkel said to Toderan, Jodem, and Lawrent, who were standing at his table. He knew that the raiders and the dwarves would now be attempting to outdrink one another with several of Mkel’s men also joining in, and by the end of the night or early the next morning, there might be trouble. “I have five drachmeres that Ordin’s dwarves and two of my bigger fellows over there outlast your raiders, my friend,” Mkel wagered Lawrent, for he knew he couldn’t resistance a challenge.

“Five drachmeres it is, Dragonrider,” Lawrent smiled back as he drained the contents of his mug. “Well, brother elf?” Lawrent shouted across the room, as Dekeen walked into the tavern with several of his elf clansmen.

“Spare me the pleasantries, barbarian, we heard you had brought cloths and wines from the south islands and a new type of lizard egg,” Dekeen said with his usual sarcastic bent, for the elves, while they valued and honored all their allies, did not particularly like the Freilanders’ chaotic ways, with their kind being the epitome of nature’s order.

“Elf Clan Master, I have rare treats I bring just for my elven allies,” Lawrent said. “The cloth of the rare sheep from Southland as well as the Shidanese wine, and several gems of dragonstone quality that we know you and the noble dragons of Keystone Weir will find very useful. In regards to these thunder lizard eggs, I explained a little about them to Mkel earlier today. They are not dragons, for they do not have any magic to speak of; they can’t breathe fire or cast spells, and are not any smarter than a horse or dog, but the natives of the Canaris Twins use them as beasts of burden, food, and ferocious weapons of war. I’ve also included some of the berries and poison extract from a certain type of fish that the tribes use to make the concoction that can control the lizards,” Lawrent explained.

“Mkel, with your permission I want to take the eggs, potions, and the rest of the materials for my clan to study them,” Dekeen asked.

“Please feel free,” Mkel replied.

Dekeen said, “Raider, I will arrange payment for you through my negotiator.”

“As always, I can trust your elven generosity,” Lawrent said with a smile. “I’ve included the instructions on a parchment roll that is with the cart that has the eggs in it.” Lawrent stated with a complimentary smile. Lawrent’s men saw the unusual manners of their barbarian leader but did not question them, for above all the many types of humanoid creatures they fought and did dealings with, they respected the elves the most, because of their superior archery skills and deadly speed with a sword, not to mention their innate magical ability. This more than made up for their lesser physical strength, which the Freilanders prized.

“Well Sternlan, you old curmudgeon, good to see you’re still alive,” Lawrent burst out at seeing the aged warrior come up to Mkel’s table.

“Ah, still just as stupid as you are ugly, pirate,” Sternlan shot back as he walked up and gave Lawrent a lion’s grip greeting. “My son, I am glad you’re all right after your fight in the east. The supply chief for the Draden Regiment had me busy until now, I thought I would never get back to the Weir,” he added, turning to Mkel and giving him an embrace. “I see Gallanth saved your tail again.” Sternlan had served as the garrison supply chief since Mkel started training with the company when he was nineteen. He also knew his father well, fighting beside him on many occasions during the last Great Dragon War after he transferred out of the 9
th
Legion. He subtly took it on himself to look after Mkel after his father’s death.

“Never a problem, my friend,” Mkel answered the older legionnaire. Sternlan was a highly decorated Alliance soldier. His platoon, along with several Freiland raiders, held a critical pass in a swampy region in the southern Gray Mountains up the inlets from the Adelif Peninsula against terrible odds to prevent the legion and a Freiland battalion from being flanked. He was one of the few that made it out of that pass alive, but their sacrifice saved hundreds.

“Now, you scurvy pirate, where is the Canaris leaf you promised?” Sternlan said, turning back to Lawrent.

“Relax old man, I have it right here.” He pulled out a pouch from his tunic. “Now what do I get for this and the case that is waiting for you on my ship?” Lawrent inquired.

“Me, not putting you in your place in front of your miscreant crew,” the middle-aged soldier snapped back with a smile. “I have a couple of items for you, but we will haggle tomorrow,” he replied. Sternlan was a renowned scrounger, and through his many contacts, he could get many items that were both rare and sought after, from dwarven weapons to exotic spices. Although the Canaris leaf, which he rolled and smoked, was very rare, the calming effects it had when smoked were appreciated by a few older fighters; it also eased aches and pains. “Now, tell me of your journey across the seas and up the Severic as well as how your old chieftain is doing?”

“Where is that lumbering hulk of pirate?” Curram shouted over the crowd. The short but stout Draden regiment senior captain walked over to the raider and shook his hand.

“My half-dwarf friend, how are you?” Lawrent greeted Curram with a slight jab at his short stature. Curram was two inches shorter than Mkel but built like a dwarf, being very stocky, scrappy, and solid. He was one of the two senior captains that aided Colonel Wierangan in commanding the Draden regiment. A good leader, strong fighter, and better drinker someone could not be.

“By the Creator, what slimy ocean creatures have you been eating, you stinking son of a worg? Every time you and your raiders come to Draden, our otyughs get bellyaches,” Mkel said, chuckling at the heinous scent Lawrent unleashed, upon which all at the table burst into laughter after they temporarily scattered.

The night was kept lively by the combination of Tegent’s music, the flowing ale, and the tall tales from all parties present. The raiders traded with the Weir’s garrison company, along with the dwarves and elves that stayed after Dekeen departed to collect the items he and Lawrent discussed. They had all fought and shed blood together at some point in time, except the new members from the garrison and those on Lawrent’s ships for the first time. Invariably, trouble started with these new soldiers and sailors after sufficient spirits were consumed.

Mkel was beginning to feel the effects of the ale, but he was still not drunk. He was not permitted by Gallanth to become totally inebriated unless the dragon was there. He, Lawrent, Toderan, and Ordin quickly became aware of shouting above Tegent’s music and the singing and laughter. Several young raiders had started to argue with two dwarves over a trade, and they were soon backed up by four of Mkel’s new soldiers. They then drew weapons and prepared to fight when Mkel and Ordin rose and drew their dragonstone weapons. Mkel whispered, “Kershan, disarm them,” to his sword, which flew from his hand toward his men and deftly knocked their swords to the ground. Ordin’s hammer twirled through the air and struck the ground in between the young raiders and his two clansmen, knocking them off their feet. Lawrent moved surprisingly fast and grabbed two of his men by the shoulder and shoved them back to the ground. Jodem also cast a small prismatic burst spell in the center of brawlers, which temporarily blinded and disoriented them.

Before anyone could say anything, Toderan moved to the center of the group with his holy sword drawn, blade glowing, and shouted, “There is no trade or drunken insult that can cause brothers in arms, comrades, to draw blood from each other. Young tempers are quick, but a fight stirs in the east and we will all need each other for it, I promise you of this. Now say your peace to each other and go back to enjoying your ale and the music. All is forgotten.” His large frame, plus the attention of the now quiet tavern, along with the several dragonstone weapons separating all the aggressive parties, quickly cooled all tempers. Tegent and his group immediately began to play again, and within seconds all was normal. More maidens and working girls from Draden and the surrounding villages began to arrive as well to get their share in the commerce as well as possibly sell their wares, and they were also a welcome relief to the women of the Freiland ships.

The party lasted almost all night and was without further incident. Mkel had left the Weir tavern roughly two hours after midnight. In spite of his desire to sleep in, morning came just too soon, so he got up, dressed, and took the lift to the Weir landing. Gallanth was still in his deep sleep, which was good, for he would need all the rest he could get for the senate gathering in Draconia at the end of the month and especially for the Honors Day games.