Omensent: Wrath of a Dragon God Page 7

  "All we have to do now is figure out what he has planned for them." Raven pointed out.

  "I think I'll do a little snooping around tonight." Shirk murmured, draining his tankard, and rising to his feet. "I might get lucky and stumble across whoever is behind the highwaymen ambushing those wagons."

  "Just try not to start any trouble." The huge warrior warned him.

  "Who? Me?" The bearded thief laughed innocently.

  Damion groaned.

  "Don't worry." Dar assured him. "I'll go with him and keep an eye on him. I can play the thief as well as he can. Between the two of us, we should be able to locate the closest gang leaders and find out if they had anything to do with those bandits."

  Damion and Raven retired to the small sleeping chamber that they had rented for the evening and settled in for the evening. It wasn't long before they heard a loud tap at the tiny window that looked out over the muddy trade road that ran in front of the inn.

  Damion quickly went to the window and popped it open, allowing Snowfeather to hop into the room. "Have you learned where those wagons are bound?"

  "They're heading for a plantation a few miles east of town." Damion answered him aloud, settling down on the bed next to Raven. "I was hoping that you would go check it out for us."

  "I'll investigate it while I'm out hunting." Snowfeather agreed with a hoot. "In the mean time, I just thought I should let you know that Storm has sent another stable hand through a wall. That beast is a walking natural disaster!"

  "He's just having a little fun." Damion laughed dismissively. "I think he gets bored easily, and finds that terrorizing those who get too close enormously entertaining."

  "Whatever you say." The huge owl chirped, hopping back to the window. "I'll go grab a quick bite to eat, then go investigate that plantation. I'll return by morning." With that, he launched himself into the air, and disappeared into the night.

  They met up the next morning in the common room, and chose a secluded table to discuss what had been discovered while they enjoyed breakfast.

  "Snowfeather located the plantation." Damion told everyone as he began to pile eggs, bacon, and potatoes onto his plate. "It's little more than a few rundown buildings surrounded by some poorly maintained fields. Snowfeather says there are quite a few men lingering around the place, though."

  "Our night was fairly productive also." Shirk grunted, taking a long drink of spiced wine, then belching thunderously. "Dar and I managed to gain an audience with one of the local gang leaders. What he had to tell us was very enlightening."

  "It appears this Faldor has been quite busy attempting to recruit every person he can." Dar told them, yawning hugely. "He seems to think he can put a large enough force together to take on the Deola."

  "Is he mad?" Damion asked in disbelief. "No one in his right mind would try and go to war with the tribesmen!"

  "From what we've heard, Faldor isn't exactly the sanest of people." Shirk snorted into his wine. "I guess he believes that they can wipe out the nearest tribe, and take their horses and cattle. He even tried to get the other gang leaders to join with him, but they had too much sense to try and face the Deola."

  "How many men has he convinced to join him?" Raven asked, chewing on her lower lip in thought.

  "About five hundred or so. Most of them are just petty thugs who have never even seen a real battle, but he has managed to convince quite a few mercenaries to join with him, although I have the feeling they are only there because he's paying them."

  "Did this gang leader know who was behind those highwaymen attacking Ickor's caravans?" Damion asked between bites.

  Shirk shook his head. "He didn't have any idea. At first, he said he believed it was one of the other gangs just trying to disrupt Faldor's activities, but the local gangs held council, and we discovered that no one knew who was actually behind the attacks."

  "If that's not strange enough," Dar chimed. "he swore that Faldor must have someone backing him. I guess he's never been known for his generosity, but here lately it appears he has an almost unlimited budget."

  "Does anyone know who may be backing him?"

  Both Shirk and Dar shook their heads. "All they knows is that it isn't anyone local." The bearded thief grunted. "But the gang leader said that he had a spy within Faldor's group that reported that this would be the last shipment from Sierra. I guess his plans are almost ready to set into motion."

  The huge warrior's eyes narrowed in thought.

  "What are you thinking?" Raven asked Damion, recognizing the look on her husband's face.

  "I thought you and I might just trot on ahead and pay a visit on the Deola, while these two keep an eye on things here." He grinned. "I think Bativa may find this information interesting."

  Dar burst out laughing. "I think Faldor and his men are going to be in for a bad time! Bativa's horsemen will slaughter his ragtag army!"

  Once they had finished their breakfast, Damion, Raven, and Snowfeather left Shirk and Dar to keep an eye on Faldor's plantation, and continued south towards the expansive pastures that the nomadic Deola called home. It took them two days of hard riding, but they soon emerged from the foothills into the rolling grasslands, which stretched on for hundreds of leagues to the south.

  They pulled off of the main road that evening and set up camp, building up a large bonfire to alert any of the local tribesmen in the area of their presence.

  "See anything interesting?" Damion silently asked Snowfeather as the huge owl glided in from the darkness.

  "There are a number of horsemen heading this way." The huge owl hooted, landing on one of their packs of supplies. "They should be here in a few minutes. I thought you may want to know."

  "Some tribesmen are on their way here." Damion told his dark haired young wife. "They're rather fierce looking, but they are a fair and honorable people. These lands here belong to the Avonte tribe. The clan chief is Bativa, an old friend of mine. I figure he'll want to do something about Faldor."

  "I remember Bativa." Raven smiled. "I met him at our joining ceremony."

  They patiently waited for the tribesmen to make their way through the ocean of grass to their campsite.

  "Greetings, warriors of the Deola." He greeted the tribesmen as they appeared from the darkness, their horses moving silently through the tall grass. "We have been expecting you."

  The leader of the group, a lean man that was heavily tattooed with the traditional Deolan markings, reined his horse in surprise. "Lord Omensent?" He broke into a grin. "It's a pleasure to see you, milord. Bativa will be overjoyed by your visit!" He turned to Raven. "Greetings, mate of the Dragon Lord. Your presence honors us."

  "Mate of the Dragon Lord?"

  Damion groaned. "Her name is Raven." He told the warrior quickly, who chuckled and nodded in understanding.

  Raven's eyes narrowed as she glared at Damion, but she remained silent.

  "We were hoping to have a word with your clan chief." He continued, trying to ignore her stare. "Does the clan happen to be settled nearby?"

  The warrior smiled broadly. "We are settled less than a mile from here. Our herds have multiplied, and this is pristine feeding grounds for the cattle to graze."

  Damion and Raven rose to their feet. "Let's go pay Bativa a visit. I have some information that he is going to be very interested in hearing."

  They quickly broke camp, then set off towards the west, following the fearsome warriors' swift moving stallions through the endless pastures until they reached a fair sized settlement of odd looking domed structures with large wheels jutting out from the sides, making them mobile.

  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 have 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 shouldn'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 aske
d, 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.