Spirit Blade: Book III of the Dragon Mage Trilogy (22 page)

“Remember,” admonished Kazin, “don’t draw your weapon, and you will continue to look like a dwarf. That will ensure you will get passage into the dwarven mountains if that’s where Harran was taken, which is very likely. Good luck to both of you.”

The minotaur and skink warrior/dwarf shook hands with everyone and Zylor put on the invisibility ring. Then they departed.

Kazin looked at the remaining companions. “Well, I think we should take advantage of the rooms and get some sleep. We’ll need our wits about us tomorrow. I hope that Zylor and Olag find a way to get some rest riding with the caravan.”

“I still don’t like our odds now that we’re split up,” said Sherman.

“We might make better time as a result,” said Amelia. “Smaller groups tend to travel faster.”

“Let’s hope that’s true,” said Kazin. “We’ve already lost some valuable time.”

Chapter 18

H
arran awoke with a start as his body jostled violently and the sound of creaking and hooves filled his ears. He raised his head briefly, but the world spun and his head throbbed in tune to the horses’ hooves. It felt like he had awoken from a night of heavy drinking. Fervently he hoped this was a bad dream, but it didn’t stop. Another bounce caused him to land on his elbow and a sharp pain engulfed his senses. This was no dream. In agony, he tried to sit up and take note of his surroundings. It was daylight, perhaps mid-morning, and he was riding on a wagon as it sped down a rocky road. He squinted between the bars of a cage to catch sight of a considerable number of horses ridden by dwarves. Most of the dwarves were armed, consisting mostly of males, with a smattering of females, who were undoubtedly children of the fighting classes of dwarves. They were brought up in military fashion, and were trained just as well as the males. Interspersed with the fighters were a number of civilian dwarves, who rode with their heads held just as high. They were experts in their trades, and had no shame in being non-fighters. Some of the more ambitious ones carried weapons, and, even though their combat skills were not at the same level as the trained fighters, they would surely put up a fight regardless.

One of the military types nudged a civilian and muttered something. The dwarf in question looked over at the wagon that Harran rode in. Seeing Harran awake, his eyes lit up and he moved his horse so it ran beside the wagon. The dwarf had a bushy black beard and wore a long grey coat. He appeared to be a business dwarf of some sort, possibly a merchant.

The wagon lurched again and Harran had to hold onto the cage to steady himself.

“So!” drawled the dwarf with a slightly high-pitched voice. Just looking at him one would not have expected that kind of voice. “I see you have awakened.”

“Yes,” said Harran slowly. “What are you doing to me? Why am I caged?”

The business dwarf chuckled. “Don’t be coy with me. You are either a coward or a thief. Either one is punishable by law.” His face darkened. “Either one is also dishonourable.”

“You’re mistake,” said Harran angrily. “I’m neither. What gave you the idea I was a coward or a thief?”

The business dwarf laughed. “Surely you jest?”

“I see no humour in this!” snapped Harran, slapping his cage.

The business dwarf chuckled. “We’ll just let the authorities decide your fate. Once they see your chain mail, they’ll confirm your identity. If you are the owner, you’ll be punished for abandoning your post. If you’re not the owner, you’re a thief, and will be dealt with accordingly. There is no way out for you. But for me there is only the reward of bringing you in. Personally, I hope you are this General Ironfaust, as the armor indicates. It will fetch me a tidy sum indeed! But if you aren’t,” the business dwarf shrugged, “I will still receive a reward. I can’t lose! Maybe the real General Ironfaust will reward me for returning his armour!” He chuckled again and shook his head.

Harran took a few moments to digest what he had just heard. Then it dawned on him. The chain mail he had brought back in time with him originally belonged to a dwarf who lived in this era and was part of the king’s personal guard. Once endowed with the task of the king’s personal guard, a dwarf had to stay near the king, and could only leave the realm if the king did. Later in time, this dwarf - Ironfaust - had no more need of his chain mail, so he passed it onto someone, who in turn gave it to Harran the last time he had gone back in time. Not sure whether that item had a bearing on the alterations to history, Kazin had asked Harran to bring it along on this quest. Unfortunately, someone had noticed the chain mail and recognized it for what it was. They had suspected it was out of place, and laid a trap for the unwary dwarf. And now here he sat, riding in a cage to be turned over to the authorities in the dwarven realm.

Harran cursed and sat back in despair.

The business dwarf chuckled gleefully upon seeing Harran’s reaction.

Harran contemplated his situation. His armour had landed him in trouble, and if he was turned over to the authorities, they would surely involve Ironfaust. What would Ironfaust do when he saw his chainmail? What if he wore his chainmail when he confronted Harran with identical chain mail to his own? What would happen when an object made contact with itself from the future? Could it occupy the same space in the same time? Kazin had warned of potentially dire consequences if this happened. Now, due to his lack of caution, Harran was in a position to cause such an event! Furthermore, his ice axe had been taken. He had to find it or it might fall into the wrong hands. It had the potential to change history as well. He put his head in his hands in despair.

Another heavy jolt from the wagon brought him back to the present as his wagon struck another boulder. A loud crack was followed by a snap and the entire wagon tilted to one rear corner, threatening to topple Harran’s cage to the ground. A grinding noise confirmed that one wheel had broken and the dwarf driving the wagon cursed and yanked sharply on the reins to halt the horses.

The wagon lurched to a precarious stop amid a choking cloud of dust. The driver climbed off the wagon while the surrounding dwarves rode up in concern. Several dismounted and ran to inspect the damage.

Harran’s cage had been mounted to the floor, but several of the lighter crates had bounced across the wagon onto the ground. Two had split open and the contents were strewn about on the ground. Things became a flurry of activity as the dwarves hurried to deal with the damaged wagon. This delay, with potential roving bands of ogres in the vicinity, was not a welcome situation. They had to work fast.

Harran was impressed with the dwarves’ efficiency. It was as though they had trained to deal with this. Ignoring Harran and his cage despite his offers to help, they moved the heavy crates of gold to the front right corner of the wagon. This caused the weight on the wagon to shift to that corner, thereby lifting the damaged rear left of the wagon off the ground. By combining the tools on the wagon and those of the civilians, the dwarves worked together to remove the remnants of the broken wheel from the axle. A spare spiked wheel, previously fastened to the wagon’s side, was installed on the axle in place of the damaged one. In the meantime, some civilians re-packed the damaged boxes and a carpenter nailed them shut. When the wheel was changed, the boxes were loaded and the weight was once again centered properly on the wagon. Within half an hour they were ready to depart, when one of the civilians called out and pointed to the other rear wheel of the wagon. One of the spokes appeared to be broken, and upon closer inspection, it was discovered that two spokes were damaged and were very close to snapping off. A brief discussion ensued and most of the dwarves with construction background agreed it would be better to repair the damage now rather than risking another wheel breaking off, since they had no spare one left to replace it with. The military dwarves didn’t like this, but deferred the decision to the experienced dwarves. While the repairs ensued, the military sent out scouts in every direction to watch for ogres.

The repairs required that the wheel be removed, so the dwarves had to move the weight to the good corner to allow the removal to take place. Repairing the wheel was no easy task because they needed parts to join the broken spokes back to the wheel rim. The dwarves who insisted the repairs be done immediately justified their decision when they cut pieces from the discarded wheel because they were already formed to the right shape. While they worked, some civilians went to a nearby stream to water the horses. The wagon’s horses were also given water from pails that were carried back from the stream. The repair took an hour and a half and the loading and shifting of crates and boxes took another twenty minutes.

Finally they were underway. Everyone, including Harran, had a chance to eat during the operation, so the military dwarves decided to ride straight through the day and into the night to make up time.

It was a rough ride for Harran and his head still throbbed. He must have passed out a few times during the night because the sky lightened in the east sooner than he would have expected.

The sun was just appearing over the horizon when he heard a strangled cry up ahead. More yells could be heard as the wagon altered course and started to pick up speed. It had been going at a brisk pace for hours, and the additional speed put additional strain on the repaired wheel. A splintering sound came from the wheel and the driver slowed the wagon in anticipation of another accident. He anticipated correctly as the wheel made another splintering noise before breaking apart. The wagon’s horses were reined in and the driver turned to the back of his seat to obtain a short sword. Then he jumped to the ground. A short distance away yells could be heard as the dwarves clashed with a contingent of ogres who had ambushed them.

“Let me help!” cried Harran as the driver ran past. The driver looked up at him briefly and then shook his head. “I haven’t got the key.” He turned and ran to join the attack.

Flashes of light could be seen as magic wielders made their presence known. Dwarves did not wield magic and neither did ogres, so Harran hoped it was Kazin and his companions coming to aid him. But that hope was dashed when the business dwarf came into view.

“Damned lizardmages!” he panted. He briefly looked at Harran as he scanned the wagon’s contents. He climbed up onto the broken wagon and tried to lift one of the boxes. It was too heavy for him. “My gold!” he wailed. “I’m ruined!”

“Let me out!” cried Harran desperately. He needed to get out of there in a bad way.

The merchant looked at him and his eyes lit up. “Wait! I can’t take the gold, and I can’t take you, but I can take your armour and axe!” He rummaged around the wagon for a moment. “Aha!” he cried. He held up a bag. “This is it!” He jumped down from the wagon and tripped as the weight of the bag made him lose his balance. Harran’s helmet flew from the bag’s opening and rolled under the wagon. The dwarf scrambled back to his feet. He started forward, but came to an abrupt stop. Appearing from ahead were two ogres. Nervously, the dwarf looked around in a panic. Then he dumped the sack and picked up Harran’s ice axe. With great effort, he hoisted it over his shoulder in preparation for the inevitable.

The ogres approached the armed dwarf confidently. They knew he was not a battle-hardened dwarf by his appearance. In their opinion he was easy prey. As they got close, the dwarf swung the ice axe with great effort. He swung too soon, but the axe did what it was made to do and solidly froze one ogre in its tracks. But the second ogre was far enough away that it was not affected. In two large strides it reached the dwarf, who was off balance and struggling to bring his axe into a backhanded swing. All it took was one solid punch with its meaty fist for the ogre to end the life of the desperate dwarf. The dwarf crumpled to the ground without a sound. The ogre looked between its counterpart and the ice axe a couple of times before deciding to take the axe for itself. Lumbering away, it ignored its frozen partner and went in search of other prey. Apparently it did not notice Harran in the cage.

Harran watched all this in dismay, not making a sound for fear of getting himself killed. Images of what the unauthorized ice axe would do to history plagued his mind. He held his head in his hands and wished all this was a bad dream, but he knew it was not.

Battle cries and yells raged on around him for another twenty minutes or so before the din died down. The victors were obvious as a number of ogres came into view of the wagon. The sun was visible through the trees and reflected on their dumb, emotionless faces. When they spotted Harran, some of them started forward in anticipation of another kill, but a shouted command halted them in their tracks.

An ogre wearing a helmet and chain mail appeared and strode past the others to peer at the dwarf in its cage curiously.

“What is it?” hissed another voice. A lizardmage wearing a black cloak ambled forward to see what was going on.

“A dwarf,” said the ogre chieftain, pointing at Harran.

The lizardman glanced at the ogre chieftain. “Obviously.” He looked back toward Harran curiously. “Interesting,” he said, drawing out the ‘s’ sound. “I see we have ourselves a dwarf in captivity. Why is that, dwarf? Answer, or we finish you like your brethren!” He gestured behind him.

“It is strictly a misunderstanding,” said Harran. He didn’t elaborate.

The lizardman chuckled. “It must be a serious misunderstanding for them to have you locked up! I think you did something very bad for that to happen. I think your precious honour has been compromised. Am I right?”

“My honour is none of your business!” snapped Harran.

The lizardman chuckled again. “Oh, but it is!” He turned to the ogre cheiftain. “Start getting the crates of gold and other items of value. Leave the human merchandise unless you need it. We have a good haul today.”

The ogres began emptying the wagon, paying no heed to Harran in his cage. One ogre even stopped to pick up the bag containing Harran’s chain mail.

The lizardman redirected his attention to Harran. “You have three choices, dwarf. I could kill you, I could leave you here to be found by the dwarven patrols - if they find you in time - or I could salvage your honour.”

“How?” asked Harran, although he was sure he didn’t want to know.

The lizardmage smiled - or what passed for a smile. “By doing something for me.”

“I would never do your bidding!” spat Harran.

The lizardmage chuckled. “The way I see it, if I let you free, you will be honour bound to repay me. So, in exchange for your freedom, I want you to do something for me.” The lizardmage paused before continuing. “On the other hand, since the other dwarves had you caged, you must not be an honourable dwarf. Maybe I shouldn’t be negotiating with you.”

Harran saw through the lizardmages’ manipulation tactics, but he knew this conversation was also keeping him alive.

By now, most of the wagon’s valuable contents had been removed. The ogres had no difficulty carrying the crates away into the forest. The wagon’s horses were freed and chased into the forest as well.