Dragon Stones (Book One in the Dragon Stone Saga) (10 page)

While he was growing up, Elias prodded his
grandmother for information, and she was always reluctant to give
it. Thorin spoke freely of his people and his grandmother’s
exploits. It seemed incredible that he was talking about the same
person—Elias never imagined that his quiet grandmother had such a
wild history.

The trees grew sparser as the afternoon wore
on, and eventually they arrived at a clearing at the top of a hill.
In the distance, Elias could see the city of Jutland on the
horizon. The city appeared larger than he remembered.

“There she is, boy. Old Jutland. Looks
pretty much the same as I remember. The walls are taller; and
they’ve replaced the old wooden drawbridge for an iron gate.
Everyone is more cautious, it seems. I’ll put on my hood and ride
Duster into the city. Although it’s not unheard of for a dwarf to
be travelling this far south, it’s best if we avoid attracting any
unnecessary attention.” Thorin mounted Duster and tucked his long
beard inside his cloak. Riding on the pony, it was difficult to
determine Thorin’s height, and with his beard hidden away, he
didn’t look much different from anyone else coming into the
city.

A few hours later, they arrived at the city
gate and got in line behind a slew of merchants and peasants
wandering into the city.

Thorin whispered, “Listen
boy, if anyone asks, my name’s
Brand
and you’re my son,
Tyr
. We’re here to buy a
horse—no reason to lie about that. Keep your story simple and
you’re less likely to stumble on a lie. Keep your hood on—it will
help conceal your appearance, and it won’t seem odd because it’s
cold.” Elias nodded.

They reached the city gates just after
sunset. As they approached the gate, Elias became nervous. He
couldn’t help it. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Two
watchmen stood at the gate. “What business do you have in Jutland?”
asked the skinny guard, who had greasy hair and several missing
teeth.

“We’ve come to Jutland to purchase a horse,”
answered Thorin.

The watchman eyed them both. He spotted
Thorin’s ornate iron brooch, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion.
“Where are you coming from?” asked the watchman, this time with
interest.

“We’ve travelled from Gardarsholm.”

“Humph. That’s a long way to travel for a
horse. Why didn’t ye just go to the city of Faerroe? It’s a lot
closer.”

“There’s a horse breeder I trust
here—Everyone knows that Faerroe is full of cheats and thieves, and
I don’t want to buy an animal just to have it die on the way home!”
spat Thorin. He pounded his fist into his palm for good
measure.

“What’s the name of your breeder friend?”
asked the guard in one final attempt to trip him up.

“His name’s Floki Revansson,” replied Thorin
calmly.

The guard was satisfied and waved them in.
“Go ahead, then. But stay out of trouble while you’re here. I’ve
got a funny feelin’ about both of ye!” The guard wagged his finger
accusingly.

As soon as they were inside the city walls,
Elias expelled a huge breath. “That was close!” he whispered.

“Aye. They’re askin’ a lot of questions.
Everyone’s on edge. There’s something afoot. We’d better get your
horse and leave as soon as possible. I’d hoped to spend at least a
day in the city and partake of some ale and hearty food, but we
shouldn’t risk it. That’s a shame, because there are quite a few
nice eateries in Jutland.”

“So you’ve been here before?” asked Elias.
“You knew the name of a horse breeder.”

“Yes, I’ve visited Jutland a few times.
Floki Revansson is my cousin. We were raised together. He’s a
half-ling—his mother was human and his father was a dwarf. He’s a
gifted breeder—he raises some of the best livestock outside of
Mount Velik. My clan would gladly have him, but Floki prefers to
live with humans.”

They walked to the heart of the city.
Beggars and cart merchants lined the streets. A toothless woman
sold black bread from the back of a donkey cart, and another farmer
sold bags of dried corn on the roadside. The streets were full of
litter. Elias couldn’t believe how dirty the city was.

“Don’t they ever clean the streets?” asked
Elias.

“The city square looks worse than I
remember. Keep walking. Floki’s house is in the north part of
town.”

They continued to walk north, and the
neighborhood improved. The beggars disappeared. As the last of the
light vanished, they found themselves before Floki’s shop. A
weathered sign hung from iron rings above. It said ‘Revansson’ and
displayed a carved image of a horse.

“This must be it,” said Elias.

“Yes, I remember the sign. It’s a good
thing, too—all the other businesses have shut their doors for the
night, and the streets are dark. I’m glad we found it.” Thorin
walked up to the door and pounded the knocker. “Ho, ho there! Open
up!” He continued to bang on the door for several minutes.

“What the blazes? Come back tomorrow! We’re
closed!” The door flung open, and a short man greeted them with a
scowl.

“What, you don’t have time for an old
friend?” Thorin removed his hood and winked.

A look of shocked recognition passed over
Floki’s face. “Thorin? Is that you?” he whispered.

“One in the same!” Thorin hopped off of
Duster’s back and grabbed Floki in a rough embrace. “How are you,
cousin?”

“What a surprise!” said Floki, with a wide
grin. Then he whispered, “Let’s chat inside. It’s not safe to talk
out in the open.” He ushered Thorin and Elias into the house, which
was richly furnished and spotless. “I’ll have my son put Duster in
our stables for the night.” Floki pointed a finger at his son,
about eleven, and the boy jumped up immediately and grabbed
Duster’s reins.

“Yes, father?” asked the boy.

“Parvel, make sure that the pony is fed.
Don’t dawdle. Come back inside as quickly as possible.” The boy
nodded and disappeared, leading Duster to the stable behind the
house.

Thorin marveled at the boy. “This is Parvel?
Amazing how times flies. Last time I saw you, he was just a
babe.”

“Yes, he’s grown up fine and strong. We’ve
recently had another child; this is my daughter, Molly.” Floki
pointed at a chubby brown-haired baby playing with a ragdoll in the
middle of the floor. She giggled, revealing a single tooth. “My
wife, Halda, is outside gathering firewood. She’ll be back in a
moment. Why don’t you both sit down?”

Thorin and Elias walked into the cozy living
room. It was tiny, but warm and inviting. “So… who’s your friend?”
asked Floki, nodding at Elias.

“This is Elias, grandson of Carina Dorgumir.
We’re travelling together, and Elias needs a mount. I’m hoping to
buy one of your fine horses—at a good price, of course.”

“Grandson of Carina, eh? I knew something of
your grandmother, boy. She’s a legend,” said Floki.

“Really?” asked Elias, still surprised that
so many people knew his grandmother.

“Yes, really. Your grandmother saved my
father’s life. She saved him more than once, actually. Both of my
parents died fighting in the Dragon War. I was raised by Thorin’s
clan. We grew up as brothers.”

“I’m sorry about your parents,” said Elias.
“Why did you leave Mount Velik?”

Thorin answered. “Even though my clan
treated Floki like family, the other clans don’t take kindly to
half-lings. They’re discriminated against.”

“Yes,” nodded Floki. “I got tired of being
treated like an outsider. I could always pass as human, so I left
the mountain as soon as I was old enough to find a mate. I wandered
the countryside for a bit, and I finally met Halda,” said
Floki.

“So your wife is human?” asked Elias.

“My wife is one-quarter dwarf—she’s a
quarter-ling. Her grandmother was a dwarf. Once we found each
other, we got married and settled in Jutland. I started breeding
horses. Business is steady, so we’ve been here ever since.”

A chubby blonde woman dressed in breeches
and a long apron walked in through the back door, carrying a pile
of cut firewood. She was a few inches taller than her husband, but
otherwise they looked similar. Halda’s hands were large and
callused, proof of years of hard work.

“We have visitors this late in the evening?”
she said. Then she saw Thorin and smiled broadly. “By the stars!
Thorin, is that you? Why, you haven’t aged a single day!” She
hurried over and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“And you, my dear, are as pretty as the
first day we met,” smiled Thorin, winking.

“Oh stop, you old flirt!” Halda scolded
playfully.

After introductions and a few pleasantries,
Halda said, “You must be famished. I’ll get you some hot stew and
ale.”

“That would be wonderful,” said Elias. And
he meant it.

“She’s a good woman, that one,” said Thorin,
smiling at Floki and his family.

Floki’s son returned from the stable and
latched the door. Halda set the table with plenty of hot food and
ale. They settled down to a hearty meal. Halda nursed the baby
right at the table. The food was simple and delicious. Elias ate
with relish.

After the meal, Halda ushered the children
out of the living room to prepare them for bed. She closed the
door, giving the men some privacy. Thorin gave Floki a brief
account of their trip, but he didn’t mention the dragon stone.

“Jutland seems changed, cousin,” said
Thorin.

Floki nodded gravely, “It’s been worse the
last few years, Thorin. There’s more beggars and bandits than I’ve
ever seen, and Jutland is crawling with empire soldiers. An army
captain took one of my best stallions. He said it was ‘for the
empire’—but I didn’t see any payment, and probably never will!
Halda and I have thought about moving, but where? Faerroe is even
worse, and Gardarshlom already has three other horse breeders. It’s
certainly not safer anywhere else.”

“Well, you know you’ll always be welcome in
my house, cousin.”

“To be honest, we’ve even thought about
travelling to Mount Velik. We’d have to sell everything in order to
move. The house, the horses—we’d just keep a few for the journey.
It’s a terrible time to leave the city. Halda and Parvel can ride
well, but the Molly is still nursing. The road to Mount Velik is
treacherous. It’s no place for an infant.” Floki shook his head
with worry.

“Aye, you’re right. But I know something
that might help you make a decision.”

“What’s that?” asked Floki, lifting his head
from his hands.

“War is coming, my friend,” said Thorin
sadly. “Even as we speak, the emperor is massing his armies in the
east. Our king, Hergung, already sent messengers to Parthos with a
warning. The dwarves have remained neutral up until this point, but
if Vosper attempts to march on Mount Velik, we will join the
fight.”

“Is Vosper powerful enough
to capture Mount Velik
and
Parthos?” asked Elias.

“Not yet… but he will soon,” replied Thorin.
“Vosper instituted forced conscription in the capital. All
able-bodied men in Morholt must join the army or die. They aren’t
given a choice. The emperor’s necromancers bind the soldiers with
magical oaths. If they try to defect, they are killed. Vosper is
taking everyone above thirteen years of age. Already all the
villages around the capital city have been emptied, leaving only
women, old men, and babies.”

“Blast!” said Floki, pounding his fist on
the table. “That means they will take me and my son,”

“Yes… most likely,” said Thorin.

“And if we travel to Mount Velik?” asked
Floki. “What can we expect there?”

“You’ll likely be fighting for the dwarves.
Either way, you’re stuck. You’ll be forced to fight for one side or
the other. There’s no way around it, really.”

“What about the Death Sands? Do you think we
could make it to Parthos?” asked Floki.

“Honestly? No,” said Thorin. “It’s a brutal
trek, even without children. You’ll have to get by Vosper’s
soldiers at the border, and then make your way across the desert.
You’ll have a better chance reaching Mount Velik.”

“You have given me much to think about.”
Floki sighed heavily. “I must speak with my wife, and we will
decide what to do together. Let’s stop this discouraging talk. Now,
how can I help you both?”

“I need a horse,” said Elias. “We’ll be
travelling north, to Mount Velik. It’s too far to go on foot.”
Elias glanced over at Thorin. He left out the part about visiting
the Elder Willow. He sensed it was something he shouldn’t
mention.

“Alright. We’ll choose a horse for you
tomorrow. Tonight, both of you are my honored guests. Please make
yourselves comfortable. The fire will keep you warm, but there are
two wool blankets in the corner should you need them.” Floki
pointed near the fireplace, where two grey blankets were stacked
neatly on top of a barrel.

“Thank you,” said Elias. “This sure beats
sleeping outside in the snow.”

Floki retired to the bedroom. A few minutes
later, Elias heard Floki talking to Halda in lowered voices.
Moments later, he could hear Halda crying. The atmosphere was
bleak, but Thorin seemed unfazed by it. He just kept humming softly
as usual. He spread out a blanket on the floor and was snoring
within minutes.

Elias couldn’t sleep. He
felt a whirlwind of emotions. Then he remembered his grandmother’s
journal—he’d almost forgotten about it. Elias crawled over to his
pack and dug out the journal. He touched the leather gently, his
eyes filling with tears.
“I didn’t even
get the chance to say goodbye,”
he
thought. The book was wrapped with a thin hemp cord, which he
untied. Parchment was expensive, and this little book must have
cost Carina a small fortune. The inside cover was decorated with
runes that Elias did not recognize. There was a folded note tucked
into the spine, and Elias pulled it out and recognized Carina’s
spidery writing.