Rising Thunder (Dynasty of Storms Book 1) Read online

  He pulled the stopper, sniffing the dark, strong smelling fluid. It was bitter, and he choked a bit as he took a drink. He grimaced, stoppering the skin and passing it back to Jonas. “What is that? It tastes terrible.”

  Jonas chuckled as he stowed the waterskin in his pack. “It's a tea made from the roasted beans of a plant that grows far south of here. The ones that grow it call it morning milk.”

  Elias took a swig from his own waterskin, making a face. “It tastes terrible,” he repeated.

  “No, it's not a wonderful taste. But neither are carrots, and those are apparently good for your eyes.”

  Elias hauled himself to his feet and began stowing his blanket. “Being born an elf is good for your eyes too, and that tastes significantly less bitter.”

  Jonas quirked a brow. “Does it?”

  Elias had no response.

  The morning was cold and foggy, but the trail soon became evident. The beasts they were following started walked in a mob, making it difficult to count them, but the amount of damage they did to the landscape made them easier to follow. While he was loath to admit it, Elias did feel the mental haze of the morning clear long before the fog of the bay. Maybe there was something to that drink Jonas had given him.

  The tracks led a winding path up the foothill, towards a pass between two modest peaks. As they traveled, it became clear that there were two ogres, at most, and perhaps three trolls. The orc tracks all seemed to tread all over themselves, but there were at most fifteen, perhaps less.

  “Twenty beasts to our fifteen,” Martin said in a hushed voice. “This is not going to be an easy fight.“

  As the sun sank towards the sea, Geoff jogged up from farther along the trail, where he had been scouting ahead. “Just over the next ridge, there's a cave. The tracks led inside, and the smells and sounds makes me think they are still there.”

  Jonas nodded. “Sleeping during the day. That would make sense for the trolls. They can't abide the sunlight.”

  Elias nodded. “So, we ambush them in their sleep?”

  Jonas shook his head. “They are not animals. They will have left a watch.” He looked around at the men who were gathering around. “We have eight bows among us, and about twenty arrows to a man.”

  Martin patted his quiver. “I've got thirty.”

  “Good. There's some dry grass behind us, and pitch from that downed pine,” Jonas pointed at the deadfall. “Let's make some arrows we can set alight, and fire into the cave. Hopefully, we can kill the trolls before they get outside... I don't relish fighting them on open ground.” He hiked his pack up onto his shoulder. “Come now, I want to see where we'll be fighting. This ambush will need to be quick, so there's not much time.”

  The band of mercenaries swiftly climbed the hill to the ridge, Elias bringing up the rear. They slowed to a walk, then a crawl as they came to the rounded, grassy top of the ridge. There was a small, bowl-shaped flat below, with a pond in the middle and a small stream leading from it to the rest of the valley. To the south was a steep cliff face made of bedrock, and amidst the boulders at its base was a deep crack in the cliff. Bones and entrails littered the ground in front of the cave, the smell of death and rotting flesh wafting up towards them.

  Jonas pointed to a ravine across the clearing from the cave. “We'll approach from there. That pond is likely shallow, but it looks deep enough that running across it will slow them down. That will force them to run around it, opening them up to our arrows. When they close with us, we fall back into the draw, letting them bottleneck in at us.”

  Martin turned to look at Jonas. “Are you mad? We'll be trapped in that ravine!”

  Jonas shook his head. “It shouldn't come to that. Plus, look at the ridges. That ravine opens up to the valley below. We can fully retreat if we need to.” He pointed to the top of the cliff, a bit higher than they were on the ridge. “I see some loose boulders up there. Elias, head up there and see if you can make some of them come down as the ogres exit the cave. Can you climb a rope?”

  Elias nodded. “I can.”

  “Good. That means you can climb down one too. Take this.” Jonas tossed Elias a large coil of rope, wrapped around the middle to keep it from tangling. “Tie it to a tree, a large one, a bit back from the cliff. After you've dropped the boulders, or the ogres are out of the cave, toss it down and come in from behind.” He pointed to the three men closest to Elias, one of them being Timothy. “You lot join him, help be his eyes, and come down the rope with him.”

  “The rest of you, keep your swords ready, just inside the trees. As soon as they round the lake, come in with a shout, as loud as you can, and cut them down. If everything goes well, we should have them to ribbons before Redwood hits the ground.”

  He looked around at the men on either side of him. “Do you all know what you're doing?”

  There was a muttered chorus of 'aye's, and Elias nodded, his pulse suddenly thundering in his ears.

  “Then quick fucking about and get to it. You have fifteen minutes. Get where you're going.”

  Elias's breath caught in his throat, and he felt a little dizzy. This was real. It was really happening. Is this how the Northmen felt before a raid, he wondered as he circled the valley with the three other men, climbing the slope towards the clifftop. It took maybe seven minutes before they were there, directly above the cave.

  Just as Jonas had said, there were a few boulders, about the size of a man, perched on the edge of the cliff. Elias positioned himself behind one of the boulders, while Timothy tied the rope to a tree. He tested the boulder's weight. He could move it, and well. There were two other boulders nearby, and he pushed against those as well, shifting them slightly from where they perched. That gave him three large boulders... hopefully enough to crush the ogres.

  Before long, he could see small flames flicker to life in the ravine, standing out in the growing darkness. Dusk was settling quickly, and the clearing was in a place that was sheltered by the ridge to the west. As soon as he noticed the flames, eight men, Jonas and Martin among them, shouted out a wordless battle cry. There was a commotion in the cave that sounded like wolves and hogs snarling, as well as a deep rumble, and all eight arrows streaked across the pond and into the cave below. The growls and squeals turned into pained yelping; at least some of the arrows found their mark.

  The ground trembled as the rumble turned into a roar. It sounded like a score of demons were crying out all at once. One of the men at the top of the cliff with Elias was crouched at the edge looking down. He started waving his arm and pointing to the base of the cliff. “Now, Elias! Push the rock down now!”

  He gripped the boulder, his fingertips scraping on the rough, mossy stone. It moved, but was much heavier than it had seemed the first time he had budged it. His muscles bunched as he pushed with his legs and back, ripping the boulder free from its perch. Adrenaline made his stomach flutter, and his hands and arms shook as he strained against the boulder When it finally tipped over the edge, he almost followed it, catching himself on a small tree.

  The boulder tumbled down the steep cliff, bouncing twice on the way down, before striking the ground next to an ogre and rolling over an orc, crushing its legs. It was the first time he had ever laid eyes on one, and the sight made a chill run down his spine. It was at least twelve feet tall, covered in thick leather armor, and nearly half as wide as it was tall. Arms like legs sprouted from its massive torso, and gripped an axe that seemed too big to be real, rough forged and sharp only in the loosest of interpretations.

  Beady, red eyes, glowing in the waning light, peered back at him from the shadows of a metal helmet. Elias realized he had been standing, staring with his jaw agape, as the second volley of flaming arrows streaked across the pond, thudding into the ogre and a few of the orcs.

  None of them fell.

  The ogre turned to face the ravine, and roared again. Elias gripped another boulder, and heaved against it, his adrenaline adding to his frantic strength. The boulder ripped free fas
ter than the other one had, and hurtled down the cliff, boosted by his panicked strength.

  Whether the beast was too stupid to move, or if it thought the boulder wouldn't hurt it, Elias couldn't tell. What he did see was the spray of blood and gray matter that spewed from the underside of the boulder as it crushed the helmet and accompanying skull of the ogre. It fell to the ground, driven by the boulder like a hammer to a nail, and Elias swore that he could feel the earth shudder as it landed.

  Three creatures bolted from the cave, sprinting towards the pond, long limbs covered in dirty gray hair. They ran with a hunch, clawed hands nearly dragging on the ground, their backs and legs covered in black leather studded with metal plates. Two of them were struck by flaming arrows and burst alight, stopping in their run to howl and beat at the flames.

  The second ogre came sprinting out of the cave, out of range of the boulders quicker than Elias could break another loose. “Down! Down! Down the rope!” he shouted, grabbing the thick fiber and swinging down over the edge.

  The cliff face was not a completely vertical edge; it had a slight slope to it that Elias used to slide downwards. His heart beat faster than he could count, and his vision was tinged red. He swallowed his fear as he reached the pile of stones at the bottom of the rock face, and his boots found purchase again. The other three men were descending rapidly, so he jumped clear, drawing his sword from its sheath.

  Almost instantly, he was set upon by an orc. The creature beat its blade against his, the powerful blows driving Elias back as he fended them off. What the beast lacked in skill, it made up for twofold in savagery and strength. The creature clashed with him, locking blades and shoving Elias back against a boulder. Elias pushed back, bracing against the stone, knocking the orc off balance, and set upon him with the point of his blade, driving it through and into the ground. The orc screamed, the sound like a hog being gutted, and bludgeoned Elias in the face with the fist that held its sword. Elias caught the creature's wrist, forcing it back to the ground as the creature's other hand scrabbled at his throat.

  The back of an axe flashed down and crushed the orc's face in front of Elias, causing him to startle and fall back. Timothy was standing over the creature, both hands on the haft.

  “Are you alright?”

  Elias nodded, breathless.

  “Then come on! The fight is over there!”

  Elias scrambled to his feet as Timothy turned and ran towards the skirmish at the opening of the ravine. Gripping his sword, he wrenched it free of the body, and sprinted after the smaller man.

  As he reached the battle, the second ogre swung his massive axe in a deadly arc, knocking three men down and killing another, crushing his ribs with the blunt weapon. Timothy darted in, sinking his axe into the ogre's lower back, burying it to the haft. The ogre howled and spun to face Elias and the other three men, throwing the axe at them, reaching behind itself in a vain attempt to remove the weapon that was lodged there.

  Elias dove to the right, dodging the axe, but the strangled scream he heard told him that one of his companions wasn't so lucky. He turned to see the axe buried into the ground, having crushed Timothy's arm at the elbow, severing it against the soil.

  Suddenly, the ogre roared and fell, an arrow sticking out of its helmet, embedded in its eye. The third troll was being hacked to pieces, and Jonas was dispatching the final orc, running his sword through its chest. Kicking it off, Jonas swung hard and relieved it of its head, a final shout tearing out of older man's mouth as he did so. Raising his blackened, bloody sword over his head, he let out a wordless cry, which the rest of the standing mercenaries echoed.

  ~ ~ ~

  They made camp farther down in the valley, away from the stink of the battlefield. Most of their weapons and some of their armor was left at the scene of the battle, due to the smell. The orcs and ogres were bad enough, but the troll blood was enough to make anyone walking nearby retch.

  They had a fire that night, as they had had no more reason for stealth. They had checked the cave; almost nothing of value, and barely any air to breath. Piles of rotting meat, offal, and broken equipment were all they found, save for a single chest. They took the chest out with them, but could hardly stand to keep it with them, stained as it was with filth. They left it at the edge of the pond to be dealt with in the morning.

  Four men had been killed outright in the battle and two more had taken wounds that they were not expected to recover from; Timothy had lost his arm and too much blood, while another man had been run through by a dirty orcish blade. They were laid out near the fire, and Geoff had given them a liquid that dulled their pain and made them sleep.

  Elias sat by Timothy, keeping the younger man company while the medicine took effect. Timothy muttered a few words, parts of stories, but mostly said nothing coherent. He kept reaching over to grab the stump of his right arm, which was wrapped in bloody bandages and had a cord tied around it to staunch the flow of blood as much as possible. The other men had taken some wounds, but nothing terribly serious. Elias had helped with the basic aid, applying bandages and washing wounds, as he had only a few scratches. Jonas had gone to find a source of water that hadn't been fouled by the orcs, ogres and trolls.

  Once Timothy fell asleep, Elias went to find Jonas. He was easy to follow, his passage leaving a dark path in the dew covered grass, where the light of the stars wasn't reflected back at Elias's keen eyes.

  He found him about two hundred yards from the camp, standing on the banks of a small river. Elias made sure that he made enough noise that Jonas heard him approaching. Still, the older man did not turn to face him until they stood side by side.

  Jonas looked up, forcing a smile across his grim features. Elias was suddenly very aware of how much older the man was, though he had seen fewer years than Elias had.

  “So how was that for a first battle?

  Elias furrowed his brow. “How do you know it was my first battle?”

  Jonas chuckled, clapping Elias on the arm. “You were as white as a fresh bed sheet when I told everyone where to go. I wasn't sure you'd be able to fight, even as big as you are.”

  Elias frowned. “I'm not a coward.”

  Jonas frowned as well. “I didn't say you were. You're untested, is all, and this was not an easy fight.”

  Elias turned to look over the shrub-dotted field. The noise of the stream running over the rocks in its bed was the only sound there. “Well... at least we won.”

  Jonas nodded, sighing. “Yes. Yes, we won, but at a price. Those men we lost... they were good men. Good men whose lives were spent fulfilling an errand best left for a militia or a squadron of soldiers.”

  Elias looked down at Jonas. “Is this not the sort of thing you do?”

  Jonas kicked a stone hard enough to send it arcing into the water. “No, goddammit! We're bodyguards! We make our money off of protection! We scare men away from other men! We don't hunt packs of orcs, and we don't die on the job! You can't feed a family if you're dead!”

  Elias nodded, not knowing what to say.

  Jonas sighed again, and crouched down to fill the waterskins at his feet. “How many did we end up killing?”

  “Two ogres, three trolls, and thirteen orcs.”

  Jonas was silent for a moment. “That's eighteen. Nine hundred coins split between fifteen men.“ He looked up at Elias. “Well, fourteen men and one elf.“

  “We return the shares of the fallen to their families, then?”

  Jones bent down, and started filling the waterskins from the creek. “Aye. The weapon and purse of each man, with their share of this job. There's a courier station in Jetty, we should be able to contract them to take care of it.“

  Elias crouched down to help Jonas. “What of the men we lost?”

  “They died in their homeland, so we'll bury them here, under stones. Once we burn the dead beasts, we'll bury them and mark their names. If their families want to retrieve their bones, they'll know who is who.” He sighed, and tied off the last skin. “I
t's not much of a funeral, but it's what we can do to honor our dead.”

  Elias stood, gathering the filled skins. “Then we shall honor them in the morning.”

  Chapter Five

  12th Waning Flower Moon, Year 4368

  The fog was thin that morning as the men labored. Timothy and the other wounded man had passed in their sleep, as Geoff had expected. The six fallen mercenaries were washed and laid out in their armor, awaiting their internment. The rest of the men that were able dug shallow pits into the earth and gathered stoned to cover them with. Geoff, who doubled as the group's priest, said a few words over the six graves before each man helped cover them over with stones. Elias offered to carry their swords, bows, and personal belongings; the rest of their provisions were divided amongst the surviving men.

  After they dealt with their dead, they began the distasteful task of collecting their bounty marks. Fifteen ears were gathered, all except for the trolls; one of them had their ears burned off by the flames that had killed him. They took the right hands of all three trolls instead, to prove their kills.

  They dragged the corpses of the dead beasts into two separate piles, one at each ogre, and covered them in fallen brush, It took most of the morning and into the afternoon to do this, but there was no grumbling amongst the men as they worked. Jonas would not have the bodies of the Felle Army scouts rotting so near to their fallen comrades. Though the task itself was distasteful, the rest of the men agreed.

  As the pyres burned, they retreated back to the camp, and started taking it down. Martin scowled. “I don't know if they smelled worse living, dead, or burning.”

  Jonas rolled his blanket tightly and bound it with a cord. “Dead, live, burned, the smell will soon be behind us. We leave as soon as the flames are low enough.”

  While they waited, they hauled the chest they had found down to the campsite, and did their best to wash the filth off of the outside. Once it was cleaned of most of the grime and gore that caked it, Martin took an axe to the lock, breaking it open.