Reyr the Gold (Dragonwall Series # 2)

Chapter 17 - Gobelin Preparations

Eastern Barrier Range

Wrath circled high overhead, surfing on the wind currents, letting his crimson wings stretch to their full length. Below, hordes of nasty green Gobelins assembled in packs. Wretched, disgusting things, they were. He hated them; he would burn them if he could.

He was here because he had no choice. The Gobelins were camped in the forest awaiting Kane's orders. Soon they would march on Dragonwall. Hopefully they would all die in the process.

In ancient times, when his ancestors first conquered these lands, the Gobelins hunted dragons. They stalked them in their lairs, trying to locate their caches of gold and precious jewels. The people were often misinformed, for Gobelins were just as greedy, if not greedier than dragons.

Although they attacked often, the Gobelins never had much luck in besting the dragons. Their stench preceded them, so they were always smelled well in advance. Once Dragonwall finally belonged to him and his clan, he vowed to slaughter every last one of the little beasts.

Kane cared little for their lives; he had no need of them beyond the war. That's how the sorcerer was: he cared for nothing. He did not care for the dragons much, either. There was one thing he did care for, however. He loved power; he loved his precious Stones.

Wrath snorted. How low he had stooped, agreeing to work with this sorcerer to achieve his own means. He would play along for now, but Kane's games were getting old. It was only a matter of time...

His dragon eyes looked below as he circled yet again. Kane stood among the Gobelins, far beneath his flight-borne body. His parley with the creatures was taking some time. All the better for him: carrying the Asarlaí was heavy work. After a week of it, his wings felt much better free of the added weight, so did his mind. With no one else for company in the sky, Kane often wanted his thoughts on attack strategies. He was careful not to share much more than the basics with him. Kane was ultimately his enemy—everyone but his own brothers and sisters were.

He welcomed the sky for other reasons, too. The stench of the Gobelin mass was enough to sting any nostril. He regarded the filthy creatures with disdain. He would have lit the lot of them on fire if he had a choice. He pictured their burning, writhing bodies and it brought him some small measure of comfort.

When he was a young hatchling, he heard stories of the ruthlessness of Gobelins and their greed. It was one thing to seek wealth for political reasons and need, but to desire riches simply for the joy of hoarding? That was pure folly. What good was treasure if never spent?

The Gobelins raided the ancient dragon settlements, pouring in from Pavv. Their speed gave them an advantage over those left unaware. Nearly all their missions resulted in failure, but not before inflicting harm and injury to those involved. Many a dragon had suffered from their weapons.

Had they any smarts, the Gobelins would have given up after the first few raids. The smelly beings were too stupid for such reasoning. They became a quick enemy to the dragons and remained so to this day.

He flapped his wings hard, taking his hulking form even higher until he was lost in the clouds. The cool mist was refreshing against his burning scales. Too much time had passed since his last attacks upon Dragonwall. The pent-up fire in his belly would not hold forever. He longed to return to his clan. He ached for battle, which would soon come. Fort Squall would stand no chance against his mighty force. His fires would melt the city, killing its people, cutting off the North from the South, but only if Fort Squall was stupid enough to rise to their bait.

He imagined the attack upon the fort, rumbling with glee as he saw his force sweeping in and taking the fort's Drengr unaware. None would see them coming, for they would come from a most unexpected direction. While the fort focused its scrutiny upon the northern territories, the Ice Clan would fly across the range out to the sea. From there they would travel south, just off the coast, close enough to rest when needed, far enough to go unseen. He longed for the day to make Fort Squall scream in terror when they appeared.

For now, he was ordered to bide his time. The Gobelins had been ordered to make the first monumental move against the kingdom. They would begin their attacks on the eastern part of Dragonwall in Austar. Its unsuspecting inhabitants would have their hands full. Simultaneously, ships would increase their attacks upon the coast. Dragonwall would be struck from all sides.

Once the North was cut off, his clan would take control. They would force the people of the North to swear allegiance to Kane. From there, they would begin their assault upon the South.

"Negotiations are complete." Kane's voice was an unwelcome intrusion into his contemplations. "The Gobelins will begin their strikes at dawn the day after tomorrow." Kane's thoughts were laced with excitement.

"Good. May we leave?" He was eager to be away.

"We may."

He turned on his wingtip and returned; he had flown much farther from the Gobelin army than intended. When he landed in the forest clearing, his nose was met with the all too familiar stench of rotting filth.

Kane spent several minutes longer in discussion with a commander before making his way over to climb upon Wrath's back.

"I cannot stand the smell of them," he complained.

"Neither can I," Kane said, "but we need them."

Just as Kane needed him, he needed Kane; but that would not last forever. He had long decided that he would kill Kane when this was all over. He kept those final thoughts to himself. It was fortunate for Wrath that Kane possessed no Mind Bending abilities. His powerful legs and forearms launched from the ground sending them high into the air, and they were off.

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