Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy (76 page)

“At least your ancestors were more honourable,” muttered Harran to the king.

The silence continued as Harran retrieved the ice axe from Commander Howell’s cold fingers. “Rest well, brave warrior,” murmured Harran. He turned and began walking toward the exit.

“Seize him!” commanded King Ironfaust VI furiously. “He’s stealing the dragon conch and the ice axe—!”

General Manhar’s men looked at him to give the order. He didn’t.

“What are you waiting for?!” demanded the king.

Manhar glared at the king. “I do believe you’re right,” he said. “For the first time in a long time, I do believe you’re right. What AM I waiting for?” He descended the stairs from the throne and stood before the assembled guards and soldiers. “Men!” he cried, “We must make haste to aid our allies in their time of need! It is the code of honour by which we live! Will you follow?”

“Yes!” cried the soldiers in unison.

“I gave no such command!” shrieked the king. “You must follow my commands! It is your duty!”

“I follow only one man,” said General Manhar calmly, “and he is walking out of this room as I should have done long ago.” The general turned on his heel and followed Harran out of the throne room with his soldiers in tow.

“I’ll have your head for this!” shrieked the king.

“I’ll bet that’s what the king said to the first Ironfaust to betray him several centuries ago,” said Manhar over his shoulder.

As his army exited, the throne room erupted in a flurry of shouts and accusations.

Chapter 62

S
ir Galado brushed his sweaty hair from his eyes and gazed across the lush, green landscape. Wherever they were, it was a far cry from the burned and ravaged lands they had left behind. Here, it was warmer and the air was fresh with the morning mist.

Sir Galado breathed deeply. He thought back to the time the army amassed at the foot of the Faceless Cliffs. There was some resistance before the passage through the magical portal in the mountains, but the army’s size was vast. Few dared to challenge such a force. The barbarians who did were cornered down to the last man. They fought valiantly—far better than expected with the protective shielding of the mountain’s tree line. But they paid the price for their resistance in the end and were recruited willingly, or killed and recruited whether they liked it or not.

Grakath had convinced the nobles that they were in no danger. There was no force present to threaten them. He told them that it would be best if the expansion of territory continued while the army was already poised to do so. Most of the nobles agreed with Grakath, if just to get the undead forces as far away from home as possible.

Sir Galado was not impressed with the decision to continue. He had killed enough barbarians in the past few weeks to make any man sick. His forces had declined considerably, and he was in charge of the smallest contingent in the army. His cavalry consisted of merely 100 horsemen, and barely 500 infantry and archers. Compared to the multitudes of undead, which numbered in the thousands, and other forces of orcs and goblin wolf riders, his forces were small indeed.

Grakath had sent a message offering to raise Sir Galado’s dead forces as undead, but Sir Galado refused and had each of his casualties buried in the traditional fashion as required in the time of war. He knew he could never look into the eyes of his valiant soldiers come back to life. It was not something either he or his men wanted.

Slader rode up to his general from the valley below. “General.”

“Lieutenant,” said Sir Galado. He observed his lieutenant closely for a moment. Slader looked worn out and exhausted. His expression was severe and drawn. He had seen plenty of battle in the past couple of weeks, and his face showed the scars of a vicious close encounter with a powerful barbarian. The lieutenant somehow prevailed, but his outlook had changed from one of honour and pride at his responsibility, to one of fulfilling orders because it was all he knew how to do.

“We ride at dawn,” said Slader. “We ride until dusk and then break camp. We’re to go at a leisurely pace because Grakath wishes to join us in the assault against a particular group of mages. The mages reside in a tower on an island in the middle of a lake. We are to secure the smaller towns on either side of the lake and then build ships to sail to the tower. He claims that once the tower falls, all of the towns and settlements will be ours for the taking.”

Sir Galado grunted. “For the taking or the burning? All we’ve accomplished so far is to destroy what we originally set out to achieve.”

Slader nodded. “I don’t think Grakath even cares about feeding our people. He’s just on a killing spree.”

“I find it odd that he’s actually involving himself now,” commented Sir Galado. “There must be a real threat in that tower. What could possibly stand in the way of this huge army?”

“Perhaps some kind of magic,” suggested Slader.

Sir Galado looked at the new contingent of lizardmen that had joined their forces a few hours ago. There were plenty of magic wielders among them. “We have plenty of spell casters to deal with any magical threat, lieutenant. I have a feeling Grakath’s worried about more than magic. What that is I’m not sure.”

Slader shrugged. “Whatever happens, it’s too big to stop now.” He looked at his general. “When will it stop?”

“I don’t know, Slader,” said Sir Galado. “I just don’t know.”

*

“All set?” asked Kazin. He glanced around at the assembled forces in the cavern. The staff’s light reflected dimly from the grim faces of those present. An odd assortment of dwarves, formerly dishonoured minotaurs, humans, and an elf were gathered before the magical portal Zylor had fallen through many weeks ago, landing in the mountains north of the Tower of Hope.

They had just taken out the guards positioned at the inside of the portal, and were poised to jump through to attack any guards that were possibly stationed outside.

“Let’s get on with it,” growled Zylor.

Kazin pointed his staff at the portal outline and concentrated. The staff’s light turned orange, bathing them all in an eerie glow. The portal shimmered and suddenly they could see a grey, undulating background.

“Is that normal?” asked Sherman. “I don’t like the looks of it, wherever it leads.”

“Just go!” rasped Kazin, as he magically held the portal open.

Zylor needed no urging and lunged through the opening, followed closely by the others. When everyone but a few dwarven sentries were through, Kazin stepped through the portal and closed it behind him—and was immediately drenched.

“Does that answer your question, Sherman?” asked Milena. She, too, was already drenched in the heavy downpour in the mountains north of the Tower of Hope.

“If I’d known this,” growled Horst, “I’d have offered to go on sentry duty on the other side of the portal instead.”

“Over here!” cried Zylor from a nearby cliff. Everyone came over and saw what the minotaur was pointing at. Far below, near the base of the mountain, were the bodies of dead human soldiers. Sprinkled amid those bodies were the bodies of several lizardmen and orcs.

“It looks like they must have been vastly outnumbered,” said Sherman. “There would be far more dead lizardmen otherwise.”

“That’s consistent with what Krendal told us of the forces attacking the Tower of Hope,” said Kazin. “The soldiers down there never had a chance.”

“Then we must hurry,” urged Milena.

“I can take some of us to the tower quickly,” said Kazin, “but the rest will have to go on foot.”

“I will lead those who go on foot,” said Zylor.

“The dwarves will also proceed on foot,” said Horst. “We will do our best to keep up with the minotaurs. You go on ahead, Kazin. As a spell caster, you’re vital to the tower’s defences.”

“O.K.” said Kazin. He transformed into a dragon and looked at his companions. “All aboard, whoever’s coming.”

Milena, Sherman, Rubin, Della, and Perenia climbed onto the dragon’s back and Kazin lifted off into the air.

The great dragon soared high over the treetops. The moisture was kept at bay with a shield Milena had put up around them, but the sheets of rain kept the scenery below grey and blurry.

They passed over the remnants of some burned out farms, but any fires were quenched long ago by the heavy rain.

Milena leaned forward and stroked Kazin’s long neck. “Kazin, would you mind going on a slight detour?”

Kazin turned to look at the druid. “Where would you like to go?”

“Just northwest of the Tower of Hope,” said Milena, “right on the shores of North Lake.”

“I’ll have to circle around that way anyhow,” said Kazin. “That way I can reach the tower with minimal hassle from the enemy spell casters below. There are bound to be fewer of them situated on the west side with their backs to the water.”

“Good,” said Milena. “At the lake, I will be able to summon the skink warriors to aid us.”

“So THAT’S what you were planning to do!” said Kazin. “I was wondering what you had up your sleeve.”

“Are you sure they’ll help?” asked Sherman. “They’re not very reliable, you know.”

“They served the druids on Oracle Island, didn’t they?” asked Milena.

“Yeah,” said Sherman slowly, “but getting them to fight for us—.”

“I will worry about that,” said Milena. She didn’t elaborate, so Sherman just shrugged and let it drop.

Kazin circled west and set down on a rocky shoreline well concealed by some nearby trees. The rain had mercifully let off for the moment, and the druid cancelled her shield spell.

Milena got off the dragon and approached the water’s edge. The others climbed off and stretched their legs.

The druid raised her arms and chanted some strange magic that Kazin couldn’t understand. After several long minutes, ripples could be seen in the water. The water parted and a skink warrior carrying a crossbow appeared before the druid.

“Olag!” exclaimed Sherman in recognition.

The skink warrior glanced at the warrior and blinked distractedly. “Ah, Sherman!” Olag hissed. “We meet again, it seems.” He turned to the druid. “So, you have summoned me as you said you would, Oracle.” He held up a small amulet.

Milena smiled. “The time has come to put our differences aside, Olag.” She pressed the small amulet back into the skink warrior’s hand. “I trust negotiations with the mermaids goes well?”

Olag hissed. “We are at a temporary cease fire, that’s all.”

“Good!” said Milena happily. “Then you can send more forces to the tower to aid us!”

Olag hissed again. “We cannot leave our homes completely undefended. A cease fire can be broken at any time, and the mermaids won’t hesitate to strike while we are out helping the humans! We will not expose ourselves like this! Even you cannot command us to do so!”

Milena frowned. “In that case, I’ll get the mermaids to agree to stay away from your homes while you’re helping us.”

“Impossible!” hissed Olag.

“We’ll see about that,” said Milena firmly. She faced the water’s edge and called the mermaids as she had done on the Lady of the Sea.

Fins splashed in the water and several mermaids popped to the surface. One, with long, red hair, looked at Milena curiously.

Olag stepped back onto dry ground and hissed quietly.

“Hello,” said Milena, addressing the mermaids. “I have summoned you to make an agreement regarding the skink warriors.”

The red-haired mermaid glanced at Olag and then back at the druid. “They do not interest us. We have held to our part of the truce and have left the skink warriors alone. If you seek to punish us, we are blameless.” The mermaid glared at Olag as though everything were his fault.

“I don’t wish to punish you,” said Milena. “I just want you to agree to leave the skink warriors’ homes alone while they assist us at the Tower of Hope.”

The mermaid laughed. “Humans interest us even less! You cannot make us do this.”

“See?” sneered Olag. “I told you they couldn’t be trusted!”

“Us?!” exclaimed the mermaid. “It’s you who can’t be trusted!”

Olag growled and stepped forward menacingly.

“Enough!” ordered Milena, stepping forward to move between them. As she did so, her foot slipped on a wet rock and she fell down.

Rubin beat Sherman to her side and stooped to assist the druid to her feet. In doing so, his broken talisman swung free of his chest and glinted in the air above Milena.

A gasp from one of the mermaids drew everyone’s attention.

“What is it, Shira?” asked the red-haired mermaid.

“The talisman!” whispered the mermaid. “It is the sign!”

The red-haired mermaid turned to the sailor. “Come forward, human,” she ordered.

Rubin finished helping Milena to her feet and approached the mermaid cautiously. He went into the water up to his knees and the red-haired mermaid slid gracefully through the water toward him. She reached out her hand and gently lifted the talisman. Then her eyes widened in wonder and she looked up at the sailor.

“Where did you get this?” she demanded.

“It was with me one day when I woke up after an accident at sea,” stammered Rubin. His heart leaped frantically at the mermaid’s sensual touch.

“Likely story,” said the mermaid flatly.

“It is true,” said Milena.

The mermaid turned her gaze on the druid.

“He was found on the shore near the Tower of Strength after being lost at sea in a battle,” explained Milena. “I was there.”

“Summon Katasha,” ordered the red-haired mermaid, still looking at the druid.

Another mermaid splashed into the water and was gone for just a moment. She resurfaced and said, “She comes.”

Everyone waited awkwardly for Katasha to arrive. Some ten minutes passed before the mermaid appeared.

She broke the surface quietly, but her rapid breathing gave evidence of her swift passage beneath the water. Her hair was black in colour, but there was a tinge of grey. Despite this, the men who were present found her extremely attractive. She glanced curiously at the dragon in the background before addressing the red-haired mermaid.

“You called?”

The red-haired mermaid held up Rubin’s talisman. “We think this is—.”