Omensent: Wrath of a Dragon God (12 page)

BOOK: Omensent: Wrath of a Dragon God
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Cattle
, the lifeblood of the Deola people, roamed the area around the camp in huge numbers, tended by a number of tribesmen on horseback, and packs of large, vicious looking dogs, used to protect the cattle from wolves, roamed through the camp at will.

A large area next to the temporary settlement had been fenced off
with heavy wooden planks, and contained hundreds of finely bred warhorses, for which the tribesmen were renowned. A single Deolan warhorse had been known to go for enormous sums of gold, though the tribesmen guarded them jealously, almost never allowing one to be sold to an outsider. Storm was one of these very warhorses, and had been a gift from Bativa for the young warrior having saved the clan chief's life.

The Deolan warriors
led them through the odd settlement to the largest of the domed structures, then one of the men quickly dismounted and entered, only to emerge a moment later with an enormous tattooed man who was smiling ear to ear.

"Damion!"
The man roared, laughing in genuine delight. "Why didn't you send word that you were coming?"

"We discovered a bit of troubling information that needed to be investigated." Damion told the clan
chief as he dismounted. "The investigation led us to Crete. That's where we came across a plot that involved your people. Since we were so close, we decided to pay you a visit, and let you know what we had discovered."

The huge man quickly embraced Damion, then hurried over to help Raven down from her mare. "Welcome to my homeland
, Raven." He said, embracing her gently. "Anything that you may wish for is yours. You need only ask."

"That is very generous of you,
Bativa, thank you." She replied sweetly, giving the tattooed man a chaste kiss on the cheek.

"
Why don't we take this inside? I've had an oxen roasting over a spit since this morning, and I have some wonderful elven wine that I think you'll find quite pleasing."

They followed the clan chief inside of the strange domed structure, leaving their horses to be cared for by a pair of Deolan warriors.

The interior of Bativa's home was surprisingly luxurious. It had been constructed from a sturdy hardwood that had been stained a soothing dark brown, and polished until it gleamed. A large fireplace had been constructed on one side of the large room and sheathed in gleaming white marble. Dozens of enormous overstuffed pillows made from the finest material had been piled together along one section of the wall, providing a comfortable place for one to lounge. In the center of the room stood a long banquet table carved from a single block of white granite, and polished to a sheen. Dozens of heavy wooden chairs with soft plush cushions had been securely bolted to the floor around the table.

"Please, seat yourselves." The clan chief insisted. "My home is your home. Make yourselves comfortable, and I'll
have some refreshments prepared." He hurried over to speak with one of the young women who stood by, ready to see to their visitors. She hurried off through the small doorway in the far wall that separated the kitchens from the main room. He hurried back and took a seat across the table from Damion. "Now, tell me about this troubling information that you alluded to earlier."

"It started with Shirk's discovery of highwaymen preying on the caravans travelling on the trade route
." Damion began. He went on to tell the clan chief of the discovery of the weapons caches, and how they managed to trace them back to their source in Sierra. "Once we figured out where the weapons were coming from, it was fairly easy to follow them to their destination."

"And what did you discover there?" Bativa asked curiously, accepting a goblet from the young woman
, who had returned with a tray of sliced beef and cheese, and a large pitcher of wine.

"A man by the name of Faldor is behind the shipments.
Apparently, he's the leader of one of the gangs that operate in the area."

Bativa's face fell. "I know of Faldor. He and his men are suspected in being involved in cattle rustling. A number of our cattle ha
ve been stolen in the last few months, and the rumors are that he and his men are responsible."

"Shirk and Dar managed to gain an audience with one of the
rival gang leaders, and learned this Faldor character has been attempting to build his own army. There are hundreds of men camped out at his plantation near Crete. The weapons in the caravans are meant for them. We think he plans on attacking your clan."

"
Where did he get the gold to hire the men?" The clan chief looked baffled. "He and his men are just petty thieves! He could never afford to raise an army!"

"According to the gang leader that Shirk and Dar spoke with, he may have someone funding his efforts. Do you have any idea on who that could be?"

The tattooed man thought about it for a long moment, then shook his head. "No one that would go to such lengths. Besides, most of my enemies are no longer around to cause me any concern."

"Well, according to the other gang leaders, he
definitely has someone backing his moves. He's never been very well off, but here recently he seems to have an abundance of gold. That suggests that someone is paying him, and paying him well."

"Something has to be done about this." Bativa's face was concerned. "We cannot just sit back and wait for them to
attack us."

"Of course
you can't." Raven shrugged. "You should attack them before they have a chance to attack you. Strike while they are off guard and unprepared."

Bativa was staring at her, his face thoughtful. "That is actually a very good suggestion. Faldor
and his men would never expect such a move, and the the locals around Crete will be happy to be rid of them." His face suddenly fell. "The only thing that concerns me are those weapons. They could cause us some problems."

Damion snorted. "I doubt they will be much of an issue. They are some of the lowest quality
weapons that could be purchased. They're were crafted by gnomes, if our information is correct."

"Gnomish made weapons?" Bativa laughed in surprised delight. "They should
n't be much of a problem then. The gnomes do not have access to any quality steel. My men should be able to dispose of Faldor's ragtag army in short order." He jumped to his feet and stuck his head out of the entrance of his rolling hut. He bellowed a few orders to a passing warrior, then hurried back to his seat. "I cannot thank you enough for bringing us this warning, my friend. I shudder to think what may have happened if they had come upon us unaware."

Damion smiled. "We're happy to help
, my friend."

"Do and your lovely young wife care
to join us as we go take care of Faldor and his men?"

Damion and Raven exchanged glances, then
the huge warrior nodded. "It sounds like fun. When do you plan to strike?"

"
We'll set off at first light. We'll take five hundred or so horsemen with us. It will take us two days to reach his plantation, then we'll wait until nightfall to strike." He smiled wolfishly. "It should make for a wonderful little battle!"

Chapter
6

 

 

They set off the
following morning at dawn with five hundred of the Avonte tribe's most fierce warriors at their back, and Snowfeather circling high over head to keep an eye out for trouble.

They arrived at the outskirts of Crete two days later
, and Damion and Raven rode on ahead into town, while Bativa and his horsemen retreated a couple of miles into the foothills to help avoid being detected.

They
reached the inn where they had last seen Dar and Shirk, and found them both anxiously waiting for the couple to arrive.

"Thanks the gods you finally got back!" Dar hissed as they sat down at a secluded table. "Faldor has his men mobilizing! They
will be ready to move out any day now!"

"There is nothing to worry about
." Damion assured him calmly. "I was able to get into contact with Bativa. He is waiting a few miles outside of town with five hundred of his fiercest warriors. They plan to strike Faldor's plantation tonight, after the sun has set."

"I think Faldor is going to be in for a bad time."
Shirk laughed. "He's never going to know what hit him!"

They rode out to rejoin Bativa and his men, and await the sunset.

Once night had fallen, they gathered together with several of Bativa's men to go over their plan once last time.

"We'll split into four groups." The clan chief decided, using a stick to draw a sketch in
the soft soil. "The first group will attack from the front. Once they have the enemies attention, we'll sweep in from the sides. Then, when we're fully engaged, the last group can join in the fray."

"That's the type of tactics that
doesn't leave many survivors." Shirk noted approvingly.

"
Can I make a suggestion?" Dar asked, a cunning look in his eyes.

"By all means, my tiny friend."
Bativa smiled broadly.

"We should try to figure out some way to frighten off their horses before we attack
. That would put them at a distinct disadvantage."

"I can take care of that." Damion volunteered. "I'm sure I can think of some way to frighten off their horses."

"That's the plan then." Bativa looked around to make sure that there weren't any questions, then nodded grimly. "Let's get moving."

They set off through the darkness, avoiding the main roads
, and cutting across the countryside to avoid detection. They soon arrived at Faldor's secluded plantation, and the tribesmen wordlessly split off into groups to take up their positions.

Bativa and several dozen of his warriors joined Damion, Raven, Dar, and Shirk as they approached from the rear.

Damion sent Snowfeather ahead to scout the area, then they all waited for him to report back. It wasn't long before the huge owl returned, ghosting in from the darkness on silent wings.
"They don't have any idea of what's about to happen."
He hooted, settling gently on Damion's shoulder.
"The men have mostly settled in for the evening."

"How many are there?"
Damion asked silently.

"More th
an I could count."
Snowfeather chirped, preening his feathers absently.
"Several hundred, at least."

"Where are the horses located?"

"On the east side of the plantation. There is a large wooden fence around the corral. You'll have to do something about that if you wish to frighten off their horses."

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