Rising Thunder (Dynasty of Storms Book 1) Read online

  Elias shook his head again, careful not to move his shoulder. “I honestly have no idea. This was the first I've ever seen of him. He kept talking about my blood, and that I had something he wanted.”

  Jonas looked at him oddly. “It's true, the times we are in are strange, and make strange men do strange things. Awfully fancy armor for a bandit, especially in this weather, but with demons, orcs, demon orcs, and who know what else roaming about down south, I suppose nothing is impossible.“

  Jonas leaned back on his haunches and blew a smoke ring in the still air. “Stromgard... That's the name of the great mountain north of Rockhill, aye? I'm guessing then that's the tribe you stayed with? King Brynjar's hold?“

  Elias nodded. “Yes. I was his ward.” The line of questioning was getting a little uncomfortable; while Jonas had, after all, saved his life, he still didn't like being interrogated.

  Jonas narrowed his eyes a bit, regarding Elias. “Well, if work's what you're looking for, I've got a proposition for you. We're finishing up a job now, and set to take another in Jetty in a week or so. I need all the warm bodies I can get, since I get paid for each sword I bring to the table. Join up with us, learn the coast. There's gold in it for you, if you can carry your weight and swing a blade.”

  Elias thought about it as Geoff tied off the third stitch. A mercenary life would afford him a better living than a dock hand or laborer, but it would also be more likely to get him killed. It wasn't often one saw a retired mercenary. However, it would keep him moving, with less opportunity for whoever that was that attacked him to find him. It would also give him time to find out why the knight would be hunting Elias, specifically.

  He stood, pipe in hand, and stretched his back. “Well, you have a few more days to think it over. Our destination is Fairhaven, then south from there. Only a day's march to the shore, then north half a day. We should be there by noon the day after tomorrow.”

  Geoff stood, admiring his handiwork. “Well, it'll be a week or more before you'll want to swing a sword again, but you should be good if you have to in the meantime. You can at least travel, and not bleed all over everything.”

  Elias flexed his arm up and down, feeling it out. The stitches Geoff had put in held nicely, and though they pulled and hurt, the pressure from the bandages helped keep the pain down a bit. “Thank you, Geoff, I owe you a favor for that.”

  Geoff shook his head. “No, some bandages and cleaning ointment is what you owe me. Just mend quickly; I don't want to have to try to restitch that.“

  Jonas dismissed Geoff. “Don't mind him. He doesn't like blood when it doesn't come out of someone he's trying to kill. Best damn medic north of the valley, though. Says he thinks he might be able to sew back on fingers and hands after they've been cut off. I greatly doubt that, but he is good.”

  Elias stood and looked back towards the creek, where he had left his pack. “I don't have much... a single grouse at my camp by the creek. You're welcome to it, as thanks.“

  Jonas chuckled. “Don't worry about that, lad. We'll supply our own feed.“ He turned to the side and called out. “Martin!“

  The redheaded axeman walked over. “What?”

  Jonas indicated the forest with a toss of his head. “See if you can bag us a deer. I think some meat is in order.”

  Martin grumbled, and drew his bow, heading for the woods.

  Jonas puffed on his pipe again, then stood, lifting his pack. “Well, rather than sit about here on the road, how about you lead us to your camp. It can't be far.”

  Elias led the way to the gravel bar on the creek, and the men went about setting up camp. Two small campfires were started, blankets were laid out, packs were unslung, and boots were kicked off. Several of the men went swimming, and even Jonas sat with his feet in the water.

  “I can march like a young man still, but that doesn't keep my feet from reminding me of my age at the end of the day.”

  “So why are you marching?” Elias was feeling a little foolish for talking so much earlier and revealing where he came from. The northerners weren't generally much of a problem this far south, but they were known to be raiders, and some of the people here may have had run-ins with them.

  Jonas stretched, his back and shoulders popping audibly. “Just finished a job in Pine River. Going to collect the remainder of our pay from our employer. After that, we've got a contact in Jetty. Bigger port, more to do there. Not just fishermen and fishwives.” He looked askance at Elias. “You ever been to a port town?”

  Elias shook his head. “I've lived my whole life in the forest or the mountains.

  Jonas chuckled. “Then you've yet to really live.”

  Chapter Three

  8th Waning Flower Moon, Year 4368

  The mercenaries traveled fast. A march that would have taken Elias most of two days was finished by the end of the following day. Elias spent most of his time chatting with Jonas as they marched at a lively pace. The company made for a swift journey, as Elias listened to the men swapping tales while they walked. Most of the stories were about this or that job; it seemed that while they were all familiar with each other, they hadn't been working together exclusively for very long.

  A few hours before dusk, they followed the river out of the mountains to a broad, even plain, dotted with trees here and there. In the distance, farms stood out in the fields, and herds of cattle and sheep roamed through the tall grass. The traffic on the road increased a bit, as farmers drove their carts past, giving the mercenaries a wide berth.

  “They don't know the difference between soldiers and honest working men,” Jonas explained, gesturing at the farmers. “Some of them probably think we're here to raid, others think we might be deserters, and others just have no idea who we are, and so give us space.”

  Elias frowned. “Deserters?”

  “Aye. There's been word of an army forming south of Lonwick, in the southern end of the plains. Orcs, ogres, some men, trolls, and worse. We occasionally run into scouting parties south of Greatport, but rarely this far north.”

  Elias frowned, absorbing this new information. This must have been what the priests meant when they said to avoid going south. Castle Lonwick was the capitol of the aptly named Kingdom of Lonwick, and was situated in the middle of the enormous valley that was east of the bay of Greatport. Most of the citizens of this kingdom were elves, though humans, dwarves, and others weren't unknown. Most of the human settlements were just within the northern borders, where there was more contact with the human kingdom, north of the valley, or along the coast, where shipping and fishing were viable industries.

  “What happens if the Felle Army pushes north?”

  Jonas shrugged. “I imagine much the same as what happened to those unlucky enough to be far enough south when they started assembling. Ogres do have a taste for the flesh of men and elves, and the Felle Army has more than just orcs and ogres in its ranks.”

  Elias shuddered slightly. “Is there nobody marching to their aid?”

  Jonas laughed. “You have been out of the Kingdom for a while, haven't you? The Northern King in the south holds little sway or value here. Men aren't fond of a monarchy that doesn't support them and still insists on taxes. No, I imagine that the only aid Lonwick will get from this region is from the elves.“

  Elias shook his head. “That doesn't seem right.”

  Looking askance at Elias, Jonas shrugged. “Right and wrong is a mutable thing to people just looking to survive.”

  Elias marched on in silence, mulling over the situation. He had not been in his homeland for a very long time, but just abandoning people while they were conquered by an army of man and elf eating monsters... there was no heart in that.

  Jonas clapped Elias lightly on the shoulder. “You're young yet. You'll find that convincing people to go and fight and die for someone they don't know is a battle you can't win. You don't have to like it, but not liking it won't change it.”

  ~ ~ ~

  They camped that night near the beach.
After being in the heat of the mountains for so long, the chill of the evening wind made Elias shiver under his blanket. The fire flickered in the breeze, mostly sheltered by the pit they had dug in the sand.

  Jonas and the rest of the mercenaries didn't seem to mind the chill in the air. They lounged around the fire, drinking wine from skins and telling stories. One young man, Timothy, seemed to have a flair for telling tales, recounting several well-known stories.

  One of the more popular ones, drawing laughter from the most of the mercenaries, was called The Sea Elf Maiden. It was about a beautiful young sea elf who spent all of her time flirting with suitors, varying from noblemen to the king of sea lions. She managed to stay unmarried, dallying with the richest and most handsome human men until she came across a young human priest, who asked her if she was still pure.

  In a falsetto, Timothy acted out the part of the maiden. “Why yes, good sir, I have been chaste my entire life!”

  Timothy turned, switching roles as he continued the narrative. “At just that moment, the priest leapt forward, casting a net over the poor elf maiden, pinning her to the ground! He threw off his robes, revealing himself to be none other than... the King of the Sea Lions!”

  Timothy acted out a short struggle that ended with the maiden being married to the king of sea lions, to the cheers and applause of the mercenaries. When the king found that she wasn't a virgin, and had tricked everyone involved, he cast her into the sea to be swallowed up by a whirlpool.

  “The moral of the story is if you spend your whole life being chaste, eventually you'll get caught, and as we all know...” Timothy made a stirring motion with his hand, as the mercenaries roared out the last line with him. “What goes around comes around!”

  Timothy bowed amongst applause and laughter, and sat down on the sand next to Elias, who chuckled as he finished clapping. “That was well done.”

  Timothy tore open a loaf of bread, passing half of it to Elias. Biting into the part he kept, he spoke around a mouthful. “That's one of my favorites. Simple, easy to remember, with a funny punchline at the end.”

  Elias bit into the bread himself. “How long have you been a storyteller?”

  Timothy shrugged, clearing his throat with a drink from his wineskin. “Oh, as long as I can remember. I wanted to be a singer, but I couldn't carry a tune if it were in a pail, so I kept to stories. Plus my da told me if he caught me singing one more time he'd put me in a dress and sell me to a sailing ship, so that was really the end of that.”

  Elias furrowed his brow. “Why would he do that?”

  Timothy tore off another bite from the loaf of bread. “Well, when you're a woodcutter's son, you're expected to be cutting wood. I didn't exactly feel like doing that all the time, so I didn't. That didn't set too well with my da, so he gave me a choice, the axe or the road. I chose the road.” He gestured to Jonas, who sat off to the side, conversing with Martin. “I started with him about three moons ago, and I've had more gold in my pocket than a woodcutter ever had.”

  Elias nodded, settling down into the sand, clutching his blanket around him. Despite the cold, he was content. The men around him made him feel comfortable, accepted, despite his size. He stared into the fire as, one by one, the mercenaries bedded down and went to sleep. As the camp grew quieter, his thoughts turned back to his home in the north, and the strange armored knight who had attacked him the day before.

  Why would a knight be after him, especially one who could create cold fire and vanish without a trace? Elias had nothing in this world, was nothing to anyone. He stared into the flames as the sound of the waves lulled him to sleep. His dreams were filled with clashing swords, the steel gray eyes of the dark knight, and an unshakable sense of dread.

  ~ ~ ~

  The morning dawned brisk, a light dew having settled over the junipers and dune grasses. The mercenaries traveled north along the coast after breaking camp, keeping to the waveslope where possible. The firmer sand gave better purchase than the dry sand farther away from the sea, and the road itself wound around the base of the coastal hills. It was shortly before dusk when they reached the town of Fairhaven, nestled amongst the coastal cliffs between two crescent shaped bays.

  Fishing boats, freight vessels, and a few privateer ships were tied to the long wooden piers that extended into the deeper, rocky southern bay, while the western bay was wide, shallow, and sandy, with nets and campfires scattered above the reach of the tide. Racks of tiny surf fish were spread out to dry near the fires, while fishermen dipped more out of the waves with wide nets on triangular wooden frames. A few taller frames sported larger fish, and there were even a few large gray sharks hanging, being cleaned and cut into steaks for preserving.

  The city had a palisade wall that ran from shore to shore in a semicircle on the inland side of the city, with a broad, tall gate standing open. Jonas, Elias, and the others were stopped by two guards as they approached.

  “State your business in Fairhaven!” one of them said, holding a halberd in front of himself.

  “Our business is business. We have a contract to fulfill with the owner of the Lighthouse Tavern.” Jonas produced a rolled parchment from inside his tunic, showing the guardsman.

  The guardsman looked it over before handing it back. “Due to the war in the south, only two will be allowed in the city. The rest of you can camp away from the wall. There's a clearing about fifteen minutes walk back up the road; you can set up there.”

  Jonas looked back at his men. “Alright, you heard him. Martin, you're with me. The rest of you, find a suitable place to pitch camp. I'll be back no later than tomorrow morning.”

  The guards stepped aside to allow Jonas and Martin to pass, while Elias and the rest of the men set out to the campground. Though he was loath to admit it, Elias was a bit less comfortable with Jonas being gone, as the majority of the mercenaries either ignored him or paid him little mind. He kept mostly to himself that night, chatting with Geoff when the other man wasn't busy, or resting near the small fire.

  There were other groups camping nearby, mostly merchants it seemed, but they all kept to themselves as well. They slept in shifts that night, Elias taking the third watch with two other men. The sun was rising over the mountains before Jonas returned, bleary-eyed and smelling of ale. Five other men had joined him, and went around the camp, greeting friends

  Elias raised a brow. “Business, huh?“

  Jonas grinned broadly behind his unkempt beard. “The best kind of business always involves spirits.“

  Geoff piped up. “Did we get paid?“

  Jonas tossed him a pouch that was full of coins. “Make sure everyone gets their cut.“

  Geoff handed out coins as the men broke camp, and by the time the morning fog had burned off, they were headed south. As soon as the shore was close enough, they cut away from the road and traveled along the sandy coastline.

  “Why not take the road?” Elias asked Geoff, as he trudged through the sand, his feet sinking in whenever he stepped forward.

  “The road leads back inland, on the mountain side of the bay. If we take it, it adds ten miles to our trip. Half a day's march, at least. We're aiming for Jetty, and that town is on the northern peninsula. May as well follow the shore. Here, walk on the sand where it's wet. It doesn't move around quite so much.”

  Walking on the waveslope was easier, and Elias soon became accustomed to the way it shifted under his steps. Though not as easy as the packed dirt and stones of the road, it wasn't as bad as the loose sand.

  Elias walked near the front, alongside Jonas. Near midday, his curiosity got the better of him.

  “What was the job that you finished in Fairhaven?”

  “A delivery job. Someone in Pine River wanted something sent to Fairhaven, and they didn't want to be seen delivering it.”

  Elias raised a brow. “That required ten men?“

  Jonas chuckled. “Some things are too important to be sent with just a courier. Couriers are easy to rob or kill. Ten mercenarie
s, not as much.“

  “Wouldn't a larger group attract more attention?”

  “What would you expect to see in a land under the threat of war? A group of men traveling light, fast, and armed, or a rich man in a carriage, taking his time about things? Sometimes going unnoticed isn't the same as going unseen.”

  Elias pondered that for a moment. “I suppose that makes sense. What did they need delivered?“

  Jonas shrugged. “It was a sealed box and a sealed envelope. We didn't get paid if the seals were broken, so they were delivered intact.“

  Elias shook his head. “The men of the North sent single couriers on horseback to deliver notices or summons. A group of armed men would be seen as a threat.“

  Jonas laughed, looking up at Elias. “Then, if we want to earn coin and survive doing it, it's a good thing we're no longer in the North, isn't it?“

  ~ ~ ~

  The day wore on as they moved along the coast, traveling along the road when the shore became too rocky, or during high tide. Nearing dusk, they came to the top of a hill, overlooking the wetlands and dunes that surrounded the large bay. The body of water was shaped like an exaggerated peanut, with an opening to the ocean where the bay was thinnest. The southern shore rose quickly to mountains, enormous trees covering the slopes, while the northern and eastern shores were flatter, marshier, and waited for several miles before the mountains made their claim.

  A thin fog had rolled in, obscuring most of the bay in the failing light, but the lights of Jetty could be seen through the mist. They decided to make camp on the hilltop, and proceed in the morning.

  Martin went hunting and brought down a deer shortly after they made camp, so the men had fresh venison for dinner. Jonas took a seat next to Elias on a large fallen log as he ate, while the rest of the men talked and laughed around the fire. Timothy kept himself busy by telling another bawdy tale to whoever would listen.

  After he finished his roast, Jonas tossed the bone into the fire. “So, Redwood, you've had some time to think about it. Want to make some gold?“