Return of the Dragon (The Dragon's Champion Book 6) (21 page)

“Do you jest?” Tu’luh asked. “If you betray me, I will
collect your soul and feed it to the leviathan. I may not have the power to
destroy souls, but I could bind even one such as you.”

“Leave me this orc, and I will fly to Icadion and ask
for Khullan’s release just as soon as I have fended off the threat of the four
horsemen.”

Khefir reached out and a black spark leapt out from his
bony index finger to seal itself into the space between Tu’luh’s lightning
eyes. “So it is agreed.” Khefir turned and walked through his portal again, but
not before he grabbed the frozen imp as a prize. Then the black hole resealed.

Tu’luh turned to Gulgarin. “Wait here. Gilifan will
come shortly.”

“How do you know I have reinforcements coming?”
Gulgarin asked.

Tu’luh smiled. “Gilifan placed a few spells over you
and your cousin before he left the caves. We have some limited visibility on
the events that happen around you. Your cousin is secure back in Ten Forts, and
he just received word that the tribes can send another five thousand warriors.
I do not know whether the survivors from this battle have regrouped at camp, or
run for Ten Forts, but I have sent a messenger to your cousin. He knows that we
are going to raise your body again. You will yet lead the orcs in great battle.”

“What do you ask in return?” Gulgarin asked.

Tu’luh chuckled.
“Your loyalty.
Clear the Middle Kingdom of the humans. They are a troublesome lot that will
destroy Terramyr. Destroy them. Take your glory as an orc king, and receive my
boon in return for your service to me.”

Gulgarin nodded. “Yet when I die, I am still going
back to Hammenfein. You saw Khefir, I was to be judged and found without honor.”

“You knew that when you struck your deal with the
necromancer,” Tu’luh said. “But, perhaps there is a way we can preserve your
soul after you have lived your natural life. Just, do not disappoint me.”

Gulgarin looked down to his body. “When will Gilifan
come?” he asked.

“When the humans have finished their tally and
returned to the city. Unlike
myself
, he cannot come
without risking being seen. You only see me because you are also dead, and I
choose to show myself to you.”

The orc looked to the north. “How could the humans
have won?” he asked. “We should have crushed them.

“Never underestimate the power that comes from
fighting for your home.”

“It isn’t their home, it’s
ours
.”

Tu’luh grinned and started to fade away. “Then I
suggest you help the other orcs understand that. Perhaps then they will have
more strength to fight. Either way, there are only a few hundred humans and
dwarves remaining. Kill the dwarf king, and the dwarves will fall into chaos. Kill
Master
Lepkin,
and many others will lose their will to
fight.”

“Lepkin,” Gulgarin repeated. “I know him.” He recalled
the image of the man who killed him. “He will die by my hands,” Gulgarin
promised.

“Wait for Gilifan, and then make haste for Ten Forts.
Your cousin will prepare the forces there to receive you. He will claim he has
seen a vision granted by Khullan. When you arrive at Ten Forts, tell the orcs
that Khullan sent you back.”

“They will not believe,” Gulgarin said. “How can they
believe that he has any power when he is chained to the pillars of hell?”

“Just say it, and everything will fall into place.”

Then Tu’luh was gone.

*****

Tu’luh pulled his mind back into the present, ending
his astral projection. Gilifan was standing near him, looking into a scrying
bowl and studying the images there. When the dragon moved, the necromancer
looked up from his magic and stared at Tu’luh with a confused look on his face.

“Master, why should I waste energy
raising Gulgarin from the dead?
He has failed his duties. I would not
reward him so handsomely. Let Khefir take him.”

Tu’luh breathed out a long, slow wisp of black smoke
and emitted a throaty growl. “The orcs are a fickle bunch, they always have
been. They speak of honor and brag about their great deeds, yet if you slay
their leader, those who follow will scatter. That is how the humans beat them
and swept them from the Middle Kingdom to begin with. So it will be once they
hear Gulgarin has perished. The tribes have a precarious treaty. If they
believe that the last of the chiefs has been slain, they will take it as an ill
omen and they will retreat from Ten Forts.”

“But then we can use the spell to subjugate them. It
doesn’t matter,” Gilifan pointed out.

“It is a matter of time,” Tu’luh said. There are those
that will resist the spell. Do not forget about Hamath Valley. Even with the
spell, there will be pockets of rebellion that must be dealt with. If I let the
orcs flee, it will take that much longer to gather them again. So go, raise
Gulgarin and send him to Ten Forts. After we are done, I will go there and
claim my army of orcs with which I will sweep northward. Those who have not
fallen to the spell will be slaughtered, until we come to the tower in Drakei
Glazei.”

Gilifan stepped out from the portal and entered the
chamber. The hatchling in the transparent shell looked up at him with wide
eyes. Gilifan took in a breath and walked toward the altar. There were several
new crimson stains running over the side of the stone. The necromancer moved to
the chair near the altar and turned to drop himself into the seat. He let his
mind drift and closed his eyes, but the peace was not to last.

“Is it done?” Tu’luh’s voice called out from the void.

Gilifan opened his eyes but didn’t rise from his
chair. “The orc lives again. His body is repaired and he is on his way to Ten
Forts now. Everything has been saved.”

A throaty growl of pleasure was the only response
Gilifan heard. A few moments of silence ensued and then the dragon spirit spoke
again. “The hatchling is ready,” Tu’luh said. “He is not as large as a fully
mature dragon, but he is large enough to survive the fusion.”

Gilifan glanced over to the dragon and studied the
hatchling. It was true. In the time since he was hatched, the new dragon’s
growth was accelerated by the constant sacrifices provided from Pinkt’Hu. The
white, leathery skin had formed silvery scales over the top, creating
formidable armor. Great horns grew out like a mane around the dragon’s head,
and its fangs were exceedingly sharp and strong. Instead of the small hatchling
he had seen the day he trapped it, the dragon was nearly sixty feet in length
from snout to tip of the tail. It would be three or four times that at full
maturity, but that would take too long. Tu’luh grew restless, and so did
Gilifan for that matter.

Having the orcs beaten in the valley south of
Stonebrook was an unforeseen event that begged Gilifan to hurry as much as he
could. Procrastination now could tip the entire effort so that the enemy would
have the upper hand.

“Very well,” Gilifan said. “I will need to prepare
another sacrifice. The ritual will take hours, maybe even a day to complete.
Let me gather a few things so that I am sure to keep up my strength.”

“Go, make the preparations.”

Gilifan left the chamber and found Bergarax.

The brawny man turned and regarded the wizard with a
sharp eye. “More sacrifices?” he asked.

Gilifan nodded. “This will be the last one,” the
necromancer said. “This is the night we have been working toward.”

Bergarax seemed to take heart at those words. A ghost
of a smile crept onto his features. “How many do you need?”

“We will need to make sure there are ample in reserve.
There is no way for me to know exactly how many I need, and it will not be
possible for anyone to enter once I begin.
So, better to have
more than less.”

“So, a hundred?”
Bergarax
asked. “That would be double the last few orders.”

Gilifan shook his head. “Double that,” he said. “Make
sure they are chained, unconscious, or both. I don’t care how you get them,
just get them. Bring them in and place them around the altar. I will also need
ten or so of your strongest men. They will help me walk the sacrifices to the
altar.”

“Will you need anyone for cleanup?” Bergarax asked.

Gilifan shook his head. “This time, the corpses that
remain will be used as food once the ritual is done. I will need their souls
for the ritual, and the Master will need their flesh once he is reborn.”

Bergarax turned away and walked off. “Glad this is the
last one,” the man grumbled to himself.

Gilifan smiled.
If
only the fool realized that all of the Middle Kingdom was about to be under
Tu’luh’s rule. I bet he wouldn’t rejoice then.

Gilifan turned back into the chamber and went to
sleep. He would need his rest.

Several hours later, after all of the sacrificial
victims had been captured and hauled into the chamber, Bergarax woke Gilifan.

“It is done,” the big man said.

“Good,” Gilifan said. “I will begin.”

Bergarax pointed to a dozen large mercenaries. “They
will do whatever you need them to do.”

“You aren’t staying?” Gilifan asked.

Bergarax shook his head. “I have my limits,” he said.
“I think I am going to go for a walk.”

Gilifan sneered and shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

As soon as Bergarax had exited the chamber, Gilifan
wove a powerful ward spell over the opening. He was not about to let anyone in
or out.

He pointed to the altar and the mercenaries tied down
the first victim, a young woman no more than twenty with golden hair and fair,
smooth skin. Gilifan pulled his amulet out and moved it to a small socket in
the altar. For this ritual, he would divert most of the energy collected from
harvesting the souls into the amulet. The part that remained he would use to
strengthen the hatchling’s body in preparation for the fusion with Tu’luh’s
spirit.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gilifan saw that the
dragon hunkered down as far away from the altar as it could get within the
confines of the translucent shell.

Gilifan spoke the words that Tu’luh taught him,
bringing the dragon’s consciousness into line with his own. Then he switched
into his own language and began the ritual of capturing souls. As it had on
countless nights since the egg was brought into the chamber, the whole mountain
seemed to vibrate with energy. A rushing wind swirled inside the chamber and
the ground trembled. Lightning flashed down from the top of the chamber to hit
part of the altar. The first victim cried out in fear just before Gilifan
pulled her life force from her. Black lightning shot down and split the woman’s
life force while Gilifan guided the bigger portion of the energy into his
amulet and the smaller portion into the young silver dragon.

The mercenaries were quick to toss the corpse aside
and tie another sacrifice onto the altar.

Gilifan repeated the steps. He first called the
dragon’s consciousness, connecting it with his own before severing the life
force from the sacrifice and placing it into the appropriate places. Over and
over he continued the sacrifices. With each one, he could feel the force
building within the amulet. He could also smell the tension in the air. The
hairs on his arms and neck stood on end and his skin felt tiny shocks as the
lightning struck each new victim. Soon, he would have enough power to move on
to the ritual that would fuse Tu’luh with the young hatchling’s body.

*****

“What is that?” Maernok asked as he stared out the
window.

Salarion rose up from her bed. Her bare feet touched
the floor and made no sound as she moved to the window. Her eyes saw a bright,
violet glow to the east. “That is what we have been waiting for,” she said.
“Tonight is the night that Tu’luh will rise again.”

“Then we should move now,” Maernok said.

Salarion shook her head. “Not yet. We have to wait for
the ritual to be complete before we attempt to enter the mountain.”

Maernok clenched his fists. “I am not accustomed to
waiting. I think I have had my fill.”

Salarion placed a delicate hand on his shoulder and
pointed out to the street. “I have something else that will take your mind off
of it,” she said.

Maernok turned a questioning stare to her. “We go for
the governor?” he asked.

Salarion nodded. “Let’s go stick ourselves a pig.”

Maernok slammed his left fist into his right palm and
moved quickly to gather his weapons. Salarion gathered her clothes and changed
into her armor. Her daggers and sword slipped into their places with hardly a
sound and then the two exited the building.

They stole their way across town. They slipped into
alleyways and stuck in the shadows to avoid detection. The few guards they did
encounter in the streets were so preoccupied with the growing light in the east
that they hardly noticed anything else. More than once, Salarion had to stop
Maernok from openly challenging the guards and remain focused on the task at
hand.

Each time, Maernok would explain that he was
accustomed to slinking even less than waiting.

They soon reached the governor’s manor. They circled
around to the north side. Salarion picked the lock on a drainage grate and
Maernok carefully pulled it free from its place. The hole was not large enough
for Maernok, but Salarion was able to slip into it. The orc was forced to wait
in an alley behind a large oak tree while Salarion moved toward the inside
through the drainage tunnel. Salarion had told Maernok that it would take her
roughly an hour to crawl through the tunnel and find the materials necessary to
create a rope and toss it over the wall for him.

In reality, she had no intention of using the orc’s
help on this mission. A blunder at this point would disrupt their plans to slay
Gilifan. That was a risk she could not accept.

She kept herself steady with her palms as she slid
upon her back, driving with her feet through the drainage tunnel. She knew it
wouldn’t get her inside the actual manor. The governor’s sewer drainage was far
below ground and would never be large enough for her to crawl through. This one
however, was part of the drainage for the governor’s bath house.

She snaked her way through the large pipe and then had
to wiggle into a smaller section that curved ninety degrees upward. Her hands
trembled as she maneuvered her arms upward. They came to rest firmly against an
iron plate. She worked her fingers around the edges until she managed to tilt the
plate. She slid a dagger free and pried against one side. The plate shifted,
and after a few minutes it came loose. She
use
her
left hand to guide the plate down to rest below her as quietly as possible.
Then she squeezed herself up through the section where the plate had been. Once
she was up, the pipe became a kind of bowl-shaped space just big enough for her
to
lay
in if she curled around the edges. In the
center of the bowl was another plate. This one was not going to be as simple as
the first, however. It held the water for the bath. She gently placed the back
of her hand to the plate. It was cool to the touch. That was a good sign. Had
anyone been using, or planning to use, the bath it would have been hot.

She worked her daggers around the plate-valve and
managed to pry it open. The water coursed down into the drainage pipe below.
Luckily, since she had removed the second plate, the bowl she was hiding in
didn’t fill with water as it normally would have down before the weight of the
draining water had opened the second valve. She still got plenty wet, but she
could breathe while she waited.

Ten minutes later, the bath was empty. She broke the
top valve free, destroying both of her daggers in the process, and slipped up
into the bath. The room around her was dark and smelled of cedar and sweat.

She clambered out of the bath and exited the small
building. It connected to a solarium that also served as a hallway joining the
bath house to the main manor. She moved quickly through the hall until she
found herself at a large, wooden door.

She bent down and picked the lock. She moved in
through the door and crept up a stone hallway. There weren’t as many guards
inside as she had expected. She did have to duck into a doorway to avoid being
spotted by a servant carrying a tray of food but otherwise there was no one to
be seen.

Guessing that the servant was taking dinner to the
governor, she followed him. She was careful not to make any noise as they
turned through several corridors and then made their way up two flights of
stairs. When the servant disappeared in a room she heard a voice call out.

“Did you bring me my spiced wine?”

“Yes, my lord,” the servant replied.

Salarion crept up near to the doorway and waited. When
the servant came out, she sprang into action. Her right hand shot backward and
caught the servant in the nose. The bone broke, snapping the man’s head back.
Her left hand came in quick and hard in a knife-hand strike to the servant’s
throat. The man fell to the ground.

“Guards!” the governor shouted. His bulbous belly
caught on the table when he tried to stand and ultimately knocked the goblet of
wine onto the floor. The look of fear on his face only lasted for the two
seconds it took Salarion to cross the room. Then she plunged her sword into his
chest and the governor’s face twisted into one of pain.

She ripped the sword free. She glanced to the other
side of the room and saw a closed window. Salarion severed the man’s head and
carried it by the hair with her as she ran to the window. She could hear
shouting from out in the hall. She may not have seen the guards before, but
they were coming swiftly now. She opened the window and checked her
surroundings. She had hoped the wall would be close enough to jump over, or
perhaps there might be a tree nearby, but there was no such luck. She could either
climb down to the ground or up to the roof.

Seeing as she had no idea how hard it would be to
escape the gatehouse, she opted for the roof. Even carrying the severed head in
her left hand she made easy work of scaling the side of the building. Once on
top of the roof she ran to the opposite edge and then spied a large oak tree
that might allow her to escape.