Dedicated to my late parents, William A. Coleman and Elizabeth P. Coleman who believed in me and taught me to pick myself up and jump life’s hurdles. We have an obligation to try to make the world a better place.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Leah Woods and Ben Stevenson, early beta readers, were so enthusiastic, their responses kept me going through more than a decade of refining this work.

Rob Carlos for the book cover.

Antonio Frade for the excellent map in this book.

Special thanks to Candise Gress for copy editing.

Table of Contents

1: Edros Swamps and Dreaddrac

2: Feldrik Fortress and Heggolstockin

3: The Road to Prertsten

4: Escape South from Prertsten

5: Sengenwha and the Kettle of Conflicts

6: Pain and Sorrow

7: Turmoil & Fragmentation in Sengenwha

8: Return to Botahar & Lake Pundar

9: Home to Neuyokkasin and Konnotan

Neuyokkasinian Dictionary

1: Edros Swamps and Dreaddrac

The adventurers kept close to the sheer mountain wall so the Castilyernov Hadorhof guards wouldn’t spot them leaving. They traveled by day, always alert and cautious, while in Dreaddrac, under the Dark Lord’s nose.

The landscape was remarkably level, considering the Hadorian Mountains rose almost vertically from the plain. The sparse vegetation was blue-green. Clouds dropped their burdens to rise over the mountains, but a constant smoky haze glazed everything in gray film. Strange nervous beasts grazed the stunted foliage. Few trees remained, since soldiers had cut most for war machinery.

Traveling all day, the group ate raw, fresh foods, careful to bury their fruit cores. There would be no fires while they traveled through Dreaddrac.

That night, the band found a cave on the backside of a ledge. The companions climbed one after another onto Bodrin’s shoulders before they finally pulled Bodrin up, too.

They ate before dark and buried the scraps so neither the leavings, nor the smell of food, would draw attention to their having been there. It was late autumn and the nights were cold. They huddled together at the back of the depression and settled in to sleep.

Not long before midnight, an orc patrol marched along the rock face toward the Hador Pass. The sound of rattling armor alerted Bodrin, the sentry. He turned to the others, “You hear that?”

Saxthor approached, “The orcs might be checking for weakness or possibly checking the gate, where we slipped out. I wonder if they check each night to see if the portal is unlocked. The duke’s guards will be waiting for them to emerge on the south side of the castilyernov. Look there, one of the last soldiers has stopped. He’s picked up something.”

Bodrin put his finger to his lips and looked at everyone, indicating silence. He crept bit by bit to the edge, peeked over, and saw the puzzled orc below. The band heard the suspicious orc rummaging around and looked to each other.

“Come on, we ain’t got time for you to leak,” an orc comrade said, approaching.

“Something’s been here.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

The curious orc scratched the fleas on his head, trying to figure out what was out of place as the other soldiers marched on. He looked up at the ledge. Bodrin ducked. The orc traced along the rocks until he found enough depressions to climb up to the ledge. Peering at disturbed sand on the handholds, he shifted his spear forward.

Saxthor’s hand motioned the others back into the cave. They shuffled backward as the orc advanced. The foul orc smell reached Bodrin along with the sound of the creature’s grunting as it climbed the cliff.

A glance back and Bodrin knew the troupe huddled at the very back of the cave, listening to the orc bumbling up the rock wall, getting closer and closer to the ledge. He thought he saw Tonelia’s huge eyes, when the orc’s head inched up over the lip. The creature’s eyes seemed to glow in the moonlight beneath his huge hairy brows.

“You’s all come back here,” the warrior called out.

The patrol’s clinking armor grew louder with their approach to see what he’d found. Bodrin slipped back closer to the group. Tonelia squeezed Astorax’s hand. Tournak put arrow to bow.

Saxthor wouldn’t dare draw Sorblade, fearing the rune glow will give us away, but his knife is in hand, he thought.

As the patrol arrived below, the soldier started along the shelf to the recessed darkness. In the moonlight, his silhouette stood out at the entrance. Only total darkness prevented the fiend from discovering the cringing people.

They froze.

The soldier whipped out his sword and advanced. “There’s something up here. I thinks I can see…”

Astorax leaped over the others and charged.

The startled orc’s jaw dropped, seeing antlers hurtling at him from the ebony recess. In an instant, the horns slammed into his gut. The blow knocked him off the ledge, crashing onto his companions below. Chaotic armor rattling below suggested the orcs were struggling to get up.

“A deer attacked me,” the stunned orc said.

Others laughed.

“You stupid lout,” a comrade said. “That were dumb, walking into a dark cave. Stop rubbing your head with one hand and your gut with the other. You got what you should’ve.”

“Here’s your sword,” another voice said. “Get back in formation. That do mean you.” The next sounds were the orcs, marching off up the path toward the Hadorhof.

“Boy! That was too close,” Bodrin said.

“We’re lucky you came with us, Astorax,” Hendrel said.

“We thank you, Astorax,” Saxthor said. “That was a very brave thing you did with the orc, brandishing his sword to strike.”

The others nodded agreement. Tonelia stepped over to Astorax and hugged him. The rest of the night, he stood guard at the cave entrance. His silhouette was reassuring to Bodrin who half-slept between Astorax and their companions.

At morning’s light, the band ate, buried the refuse under sand at the back of the cave, and brushed out their tracks.

Saxthor drew Sorblade a bit. There was no rune-glow. “There aren’t any orcs nearby. It should be safe to leave. Stay together – and keep quiet.”

For days, the team passed along the rocks, searching for the Edros Swamps. They walked to the end of the mountains, where a muddy bog formed at the last hill’s base.

“This is the beginning of the Edros Swamps, the source of the Akkin River,” Tournak said. Black bubbling ooze and rotting tree trunks filled the horizon as far as they could see.

“No wonder the orcs try to cross the mountains,” Bodrin said. “One good step in that muck and you’d disappear forever. There was a forest here once.” He pointed out in the swamp. “See there… see the stumps of old trees and occasional trunks, jutting upward like some great monster’s charred bones?

A fire must have burned them before heavy rains flooded the area. When the waters receded, they carried away trees and debris, which dammed the drainage path and created the swamp.”

“The swamp is older than that, Bodrin,” Tournak said, “but your powers of observation are good. The swamp goes back to the Wizard Wars, but it seems to have grown and drowned this forest more recently as you suggested.”

“How can we get through this muck?” Tonelia asked. She was picking bugs out of her hair, while holding her skirt above the mud with the other hand. “I thought things were bad since leaving Hador; looks like it’s going to get worse. I hate that moldy swamp smell.”

“We can’t walk through it and here it’s too shallow to sail on,” Tournak said.

“Judging from the way my staff goes down into it, the mud has no bottom that we could pole through,” Bodrin said. “There’s no sound wood for a raft anyway.”

“We’ll have to travel up along the edge until we find some way across it,” Saxthor said. The others nodded agreement. “Be careful not to get too near the mire. Too close and we’ll leave tracks the orc patrols are sure to see.”

Bodrin looked at Tonelia’s small, delicate feet. “Your tracks will be a certain giveaway.”

Smiling, swaying, and twirling her fingers in her long hair, Tonelia asked, “They
are
delicate, aren’t they?”

Bodrin shook his head. They moved into the tall sedge seed heads, swaying in the ever-smoky wind. Progress was slow traveling north. Astorax went last so his hooves would cover any tracks. The farther north they went, the shorter the grass. Clouds covered the sky most of the day and sulfurous smoke tainted the air already musty with decay.

“I hope we’re not going to walk all the way around this marsh,” Tonelia said, looking at her cold, damp feet.

“The briars in the grass aren’t helping anyone’s disposition either,”
Bodrin said.

In the lead, Saxthor froze as a large, charcoal-gray serpent with rust-colored diamonds patches appeared, coiled, and began to rattle its warning. The serpent’s menacing eyes were cold yellow and fixed on Saxthor’s leg, daring him to move.

Bodrin whipped out his sword and bisected the serpent. “Can’t roast the snake anyway. This one has dark meat and its blood has a greenish tint.”

Hendrel looked. “Reminds me of crayfish blood.”

“Green blood,” Tonelia said. She pushed her tongue through her frown as if tasting something bad. “We’re not eating the snake. Mercifully, we can’t start a fire to cook it out here in the open.”

Bodrin tossed the snake into the bog, where it sank, swallowed by the black ooze. “At least the swamp can hide signs we’re here.”

“Let’s move away from it to find a dry campsite,” Saxthor said.

They ate, watching the twilight pass off the horizon filtered through black tree bones, grasping for the night sky. About an hour later, they heard muttering, then telltale squishing feet in the sludge at the swamp’s edge.

“What’s that?” Tonelia asked.

“Be quiet.” Bodrin turned toward the swamp and strained to hear the next sound. One after another, they peered through the swaying grass stems, just covering their heads, to see what made the noise. Bodrin couldn’t see the source, but whatever it was, it smacked its lips.

“Come here you tasty little frogs. Come to the nice troll.”

“Troll!” Tonelia gasped.

Bodrin put his hand over her mouth and felt her lips tremble. She looked at him, then at the grass. Seeing that she realized her mistake, he withdrew his restraint. The rest looked at her, then back toward the voice.

“Who’s there?” the voice asked. “Lendy, is that you? You trying to steal my frog?”

The trekkers froze. When no one responded, the troll stretched higher, straining to see over the tall grass. He sniffed the wind.

“Lendy, if that’s you, come hunt with me. It’s been a while since I’ve had a plump orc to eat. We may all be allies, but caught out alone, an orc is fair game for two trolls.”

The troll waited, but there was no reply. Bodrin moved. The troll must have seen the grass respond because he looked their way.

“Come to the nice troll, little orcy,” the troll said. “I wouldn’t hurt the little lost orc. I were just kidding.”

Astorax poked Bodrin, then raised his head so his antlers rose just above the grass.

“A juicy deer,” the troll said.

Bodrin could hear him smacking his big mouth’s lips. His ponderous feet plodded through the grass toward the antlers.

“Come to the nice troll, juicy deer.”

A man’s length in front of Astorax, Tournak crept through the grass and silently threaded his bow through the clumps. On the other side, Bodrin crouched, ready with his staff.

The troll moved through the grass a little faster as Astorax lured him on, stooping low to keep his head out of sight. Moving faster, the troll lunged for the deer, tripped over the bow, and fell flat on his face in the grass.

Bodrin jumped up and smacked the troll’s head with his staff, knocking him out but without breaking his skin.

“Careful, no blood,” Tournak said.

“Save one of his sandals,” Saxthor said. Bodrin took off a sandal before they heaved the troll into the black swamp, where he disappeared with no trace.

“Leave the sandal at the water’s edge so anyone looking for this troll will think he tripped and fell into the bottomless muck. Maybe they won’t search for him anymore.”

“That was another close call,” Hendrel said. He turned to Astorax, “Clever trick!”

Astorax smiled and went back to their camp. Just when they were about to settle down for the night, Saxthor made them get up and start to move on again.

“There might be other trolls that will come looking for the missing one. Pulling the same trick more than once would likely arouse suspicion. We’d better keep going.”

“In the night, strange things wander around the swamp’s edge,” Tournak said. “I’ve seen large wharf rats at the bogs’ edges, grabbing things that crawl out of the water.”

“They’re big as Delia.” Tonelia’s mouth twisted when she said it. She looked around at the others. “That doesn’t give anyone peace of mind, does it? She shivered and Bodrin hugged her.

“Speaking of which,” Saxthor said, having stumbled upon an enormous rodent. He pointed.

“It’s eaten the head off a heron it caught, sleeping in the grass,” Tournak said.

The monster was lapping up the blood. Its beady yellow eyes caught the moonlight, when it glanced up, staring at Saxthor. A snarl displayed menacing teeth.

Tonelia backed up. “Rats are only supposed to make little squeaky noises?”

Tournak tapped Saxthor’s elbow. “It’s not going to back down and leave its fresh kill.”

The creature dropped the bird and started to crawl toward Saxthor. Its pace quickened.

Saxthor drew Sorblade and the runes glowed a pale green. The rat leaped at Saxthor’s throat. Sorblade shot up. With a screech, the rat impaled itself on the blade. Saxthor pushed the thrashing body off the sword and crouched down, motioning the others to do the same.

“Something evil lurks in the tall grass, more evil than the rat.”

They froze in place, turning with caution, each looking in many directions.

Where is it? Thought Bodrin.

BOOK: The Crown Of Yensupov (Book 3)

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