The Dragon God
The second book in the Horn King series.
©2013
All characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
All Dragon God characters and their distinctive likeness are property of Brae Wyckoff (author).
ISBN: 1492996335
ISBN-13: 9781492996330
Library of Congress Control Number: 2013920077
CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
North Charleston, South Carolina
All rights reserved. This book is protected under the copyright laws of the United States of America. Any reproduction or unauthorized use of the material or artwork contained herein is prohibited without the express written permission of Brae Wyckoff.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from the author.
Request for permission to make copies of any part of this work should be directed to the website, www.braewyckoff.com
Editor: Krisann Gentry
Maps created by Michelle Modifica-Nichols
Cover art by Michelle Modifica-Nichols, Jill Wyckoff, and
Sharon Marta of Marta Studios
http://www.martastudios.com
DESTINY
The inevitable or necessary fate to which a particular person or thing is destined; one’s lot.
A predetermined course of events considered as something beyond human power or control.
CONTENTS
Prologue: The Remnant
Chapter 1: Old Friends
Chapter 2: Tales of Power
Chapter 3: Separate Paths
Chapter 4: Captain Yasooma
Chapter 5: Saybrook
Chapter 6: A Pinch of Luck
Chapter 7: The Challenge
Chapter 8: The Great Illustrya Ocean
Chapter 9: The Singing Rocks
Chapter 10: Dwarven Clues
Chapter 11: Pirate’s Belly
Chapter 12: Bad Dreams
Chapter 13: The Third Element
Chapter 14: Te Sond
Chapter 15: The Great Trillius
Chapter 16: A King’s Errand
Chapter 17: The Sky Diamond
Chapter 18: King of Secrets
Chapter 19: Crash!
Chapter 20: Dragon’s Lair
Chapter 21: Who Was That?
Chapter 22: Revenge
Chapter 23: The Chamber of Cleansing
Chapter 24: Convergence
Chapter 25: Reunion
Chapter 26: Tides of Change
Chapter 27: The Decision
Chapter 28: Where, O Death, Is Your Victory?
Chapter 29: The Past Reconciled
Chapter 30: The Funeral
Chapter 31: True Intentions
Chapter 32: The Message
Chapter 33: The Smell of Lilac
Chapter 34: Destiny
Coming Soon: The Vampire King
About the Author
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My wife, Jill Wyckoff, is amazing! Thank you for your support, your encouragement, and loving me through this entire process. You are such a gift to me…
Thank you Michelle-Belle for reading one chapter at a time and growling at me, not in disdain, but in insistence, encouraging me to have more chapters written. Special shout out to Michelle creating the map of Ruauck-El and the Chamber of Cleansing!
I would like to give a huge thank you to the Rancho Bernardo Writer’s Group for their amazing critique of my book. I can’t say enough about you all, but three of you stood out as the greatest influence of my work…Peter Berkos (Academy Award Winner and Author), MJ Roe (Author), and Terry Ambrose (Author).
Thank you to my Dungeons and Dragons family. We have had some great adventures. Thank you Eric for inspiring the wickedly fun Dal-Draydian.
Thank you to Tom Modifica Jr. for creating a wonderful character—Trillius Triplehand.
Steve Maddox… “It’s lonely at the top.”
And this book wouldn’t be as good as it is without my wonderful editor, Krisann Gentry!
The Heroes of Ruauck-El
Bridazak Baiulus – An orphaned Halfling (AKA Ordakian or Dak, for short) who was the Carrier of the Orb of Truth and the leader of his friends, Spilf, Dulgin, and Abawken.
Spilfer Teehle – Spilf is also an orphaned Ordakian that Bridazak and Dulgin found on the streets of Baron’s Hall and have travelled with for years. He is in search of his family.
Dulgin Hammergold – This red-bearded surly dwarf is stubborn and always looking for a fight, but deep down he has a heart of gold and will do anything for his friends. He favors an axe that was gifted to him by his father.
Abawken Shellahk – He comes from the Province of Zoar in the East. Abawken was led to find Bridazak and protect him. He is a human fighter that wields a magical scimitar called the Sword of the Elements.
Raina Sheeldeen – Raina is an elf mystic that was lost for centuries to a curse called The Burning Forest. She is a powerful wizard that fights alongside a Dwarven King named El’Korr.
El’Korr Hammergold – El’Korr is the older brother of Dulgin and was also lost for centuries within The Burning Forest curse. He is now the King of the remnant of dwarves fighting for freedom against the Horn Kings.
Rondee the Wild – Rondee is a Wild Dwarf of the Smasher Clan and is the bodyguard of El’Korr. Wild Dwarves release wild magic that is not always beneficial to themselves and others around them.
Xandahar Sheldeen – Xan is an elven fighter cleric that has lived over 700 years. He is a great and powerful healer. Raina is his sister.
Jack – A rescued teenage human boy trying to find his way in the world.
The Villains of Ruauck-El
King Manasseh – A evil human who lived over three centuries and was the ruler of the Northern Kingdom. He was known as the North Horn King.
The Dark Lord – This deity is the ruler of Kerrith Ravine, a doorway to the underworld.
Reegs – Shadow creatures that are demonic spies for the Dark Lord. Reegs are to report their findings to the Dark Lord and are spread throughout Ruauck-El.
Vevrin and Veric – Human Mystic brothers of rival Horn Kings. Vevrin served Manasseh in the North. Veric serves Ravana in the West.
PROLOGUE
The Remnant
The stout dwarf stood at the ridge, overlooking the valley. Smoke billowed into the overcast sky from several locations in the distance. His dark eyes focused under the brim of his thick eyebrows. A shield rested against a rock within reach, the leather straps on the inside were worn and stained with blood. His attention from the scene far away was diverted when the clanking of armored footsteps were heard from behind.
Without turning, the dwarf spoke, his voice a deep, husky tone, “What did you find, Shem?”
“Still only rumors, my liege. King Manasseh has fallen, by all accounts.”
“How is this possible? The most powerful Horn King suddenly falls and no one knows why?”
“No confirmation yet, but some fleeing the area to the south have spoken of dwarves holding up within the Moonstone Mountains and calling anyone and everyone to band with them.”
“Moonstone Mountains? There are no dwarves in that area. We can’t move on rumors alone, Shem. Find someone who has a first hand account.”
“It might not be anything of importance but one of our patrols picked up a human cook along the north ridge.”
“A cook? Do you long for human prepared food, Shem?”
“Of course not, Bailo. I have been told he was Manasseh’s personal chef at a hidden castle close to the border of Kerrith Ravine.”
Bailo squinted as he turned to face Shem. Bailo’s long black braided beard reached his armored gut.
Shem nervously spoke, “I know that it is not what you were expecting, so I won’t bother—”
“No,” Bailo interrupted. “Bring me this human cook. I wish to speak to him directly.”
An unshaven human, escorted by four warrior dwarves led by Shem, stood before the imposing Bailo, whose two prominent scars—one on each side of his neck—melded into his wrinkled skin. His dark brown eyes bore into the scrawny human who wore grey breeches and a dirtied white tunic.
Bailo asked, “What is your name, Human?”
The man answered, in a raspy voice, “I’m called Valcod.”
“And what is your profession, Valcod?”
“I’m the personal chef to King Manasseh. At least I was.”
“Tell me what happened, Valcod.” Bailo looked at each of his men and said, “No harm will come to you.”
The human peered off into the valley below, the black smoke rising at several towns. “You don’t know?”
“Speak!” Bailo ordered.
“King Manasseh is dead. The towns and cities are now under martial law, or in some places civilians have taken over. It’s chaos down there. Most assuredly the other Horn Kings will come. People are fleeing to the forests and mountains until things settle down.”
“Where is your proof, Valcod? Something is clearly happening, but dwarves and elves have gone into hiding and to show ourselves to humans is dangerous.”
“Are you their leader?”
“I ask the questions, Human. Give me proof.”
Valcod only returned silence. Bailo looked to Shem.
“All he had was this.” Shem produced a corked vial filled with a black fluid. Bailo reached for it and inspected the contents.
“What is this, Valcod?”
“Just an ingredient of mine that I like to use.”
There was an awkward silence and then Bailo responded, “Good. I’m hungry. Prepare me some food using your ingredient.”
Valcod chuckled, “I have nothing to make for you.”
“Well, I’m thirsty then, Valcod. This should do fine. Dwarves love dark brews.”
Shem stepped forward, “My liege, it could be poison.”
Bailo glared at Valcod, “Wouldn’t be the first time I drank something I wasn’t supposed to.”
Valcod, stoic in his stance, did not say anything. Bailo uncorked the vial, giving sound to a hollow pop as it was released. The dwarf slowly brought it to his lips, locking his eyes on the human, who claimed to be a chef of King Manasseh. Bailo tilted the glass and the black substance began to edge closer to his mouth. Valcod’s hazel eyes didn’t blink, though he held his breath. At the last instant he halted Bailo, “Stop!”
Bailo instantly lurched forward and grabbed the human’s tunic with his free hand while lowering the vial away, “Who are you?”
The human sighed and finally admitted, “I am a former royal guard of Manasseh.”
“What is this that I almost drank? Poison? On your life, you had better speak!”
“Nay, it is not poison. It was taken from the Pool of Recall within Manasseh’s tower at Black Rock Castle.”
“What is this Pool of Recall?”
“You can see past events through the eyes of the one you name.”
Bailo peered at Shem and then handed him the vial with the cork. “Keep it safe.”
Valcod brought the dwarf’s attention back, “I am looking for refuge. I have experienced the hand of an evil king and I wish to be free of any future evil king’s which are coming.”
“You speak of the East and West Horn Kings.”
“Indeed. Once they verify Manasseh’s death, then the inevitable will happen. I brought the water from the Pool of Recall to secure safe passage by revealing the truth of what actually transpired.”
“What did happen?”
“An army of dwarves attacked his castle, led by a mystic.”
“Dwarves? Are you certain?”
“Yes, I saw them with my own eyes.”
Shem spoke, “Dwarves don’t have mystics, Human.”
“It was an elf mystic.”
Bailo glanced to Shem, who returned the look of concern.
Valcod continued, “I heard some of the men speak of her being a Sheldeen Elf.”
Bailo stared deeply into Valcod’s eyes, “Show me how to use this Pool of Recall. I need to see with my own eyes what you speak of.” Bailo then turned toward Shem and whispered, “Call a meeting with the other leaders.”
Three dwarves gathered by a small fire, well hidden within the mountains. Howling wind resounded outside their boulder-protected location. Four stone markers, dwarven language carved on each, stood towering above them at the center.
A deep maroon-colored beard dangled from a dark-brown eyed dwarf who leaned against one of the markers, arms crossed over his barrel chest. Another dwarf, massive in girth, and an orange and grey beard matching the width of the clan member, sat on one of the benches between the upright stone pieces. The third and final dwarf huffed loudly as he slung his braided brown beard over his left shoulder and asked, “What is taking so long?”
The fat dwarf chuckled, placed his right palm out, and said, “Cough up yer gold, Kog.”
He pulled out a small pouch and tossed it, “Here ya go, Brewtus. Got me again, dammit.”
The third dwarf stood dumbfounded at the transaction that revolved around him and responded, “Your incessant gambling is a disease to our race.”
Brewtus scoffed, “Our coffers grow while yours diminish, our sweet Hahlid of the Redheart.”
“You dare speak of my surname in jest? You Bluefists are the reason we stay separated as clans.”
Brewtus grumbled as he stood in anger, “Time for me to shut your mouth.”
Hahlid roared and charged, slamming into the gut of Brewtus, who did not budge. Brewtus brought his clubbed fists down on top of Hahlid and dropped him to the ground. Kog laughed heartily in the background.
A booming voice coming around the bend halted them all, “Enough!”
Each of them turned and watched Bailo enter the confined meeting area.
“About time, Bailo,” Brewtus said as he sat back down.
Hahlid stood and then made his way to his bench.
“Why the meeting?” Kog asked as he sat.
Without a pause, Bailo answered, “El’Korr has returned.”
Each of them shot puzzled glances at one another.
“You speak nonsense, Bailo. He fell in the crusade against Kerrith Ravine.”
“I have seen with my own eyes, and that is not all.”
“Speak Bailo, before I charge you to step down,” Brewtus announced.
“The entire crusade survived. They unleashed their fury upon the doorstep of King Manasseh, defeating him, and now reside within the Moonstone Mountains amassing a new resistance. Raina also lives.”
“How did you come by this information?”
“Shem, bring it in!” Bailo called.
Shem and another dwarven warrior walked in together, each carefully holding the end of a small basin as they came into the area.
“What is the meaning of this?” Kog stood.
“My brethren, the time has come. You will each see firsthand what has transpired, and know what I speak is truth.”
The basin, filled with the murky water of the Pool of Recall, was placed in the center of the meeting. Shem and the warrior exited without a word.
“Place your face into the water as you think of El’Korr, and you will see what has transpired.”
Each clan member did as instructed. Brewtus stood upright, black water trickled down his face as he stared intently at Bailo. The overweight dwarf stumbled away in shock as Kog was next. They waited until the final leader of dwarves witnessed the fall of Manasseh at the hands of El’Korr Hammergold and Raina Sheldeen.
Bailo said, “It is time to gather the Remnant, uni
te the clans, and march to Te Sond.”
Abawken closed his eyes and breathed in the arid air, sensing his prey was close. The Sheltothii ritual was as ancient as the realm of Ruauck-El itself, and was the foundation of the desert ways. At the age of Ragiil each youth was tested—sent to hunt the deadly Chuulkath within the sand chasms of the far East. The desert nomad, wrapped in ceremonial linens from head to toe, held his gleaming scimitar, and thought,“Wait. Let it come.” His instincts and training melded together as this life and death ritual unfolded.
Waves of sweltering heat intensified in the deep maze of canyons. The desert wind sent dune sand from above cascading down the brittle walls, sounding a bit like rain. He veered away from the shadier spots, staying within the sunlight. “It is close. Be patient,” he reminded himself. Then he heard it. He froze in place, breathing silently as he focused in on a slight clicking sound, masquerading itself from behind a stream of pouring sand. The time of the Kemsing, full sun, when the sharp lines separating shade from light would begin to dissipate, was seconds away. Only the light of day would reveal the Chuulkath, but he would have to be close to it before the sun waned and the shadows returned.
As Abawken took another step closer, focusing straight ahead, his left arm dipped within the edges of the shade; before he’d even noticed, the claws of the creature dragged him into the pocket of darkness as deep as twilight. He swung his sword but the pawed hand grappled his arm and smashed it up against the rocky alcove, forcing him to release his weapon. It plopped onto the sandy floor.
Abawken wrestled with the mythological desert creature, fighting to bring it into the light, but the strength of the beast was far beyond his own. He had to stay alive long enough for the sun to be at its zenith. Precious seconds elapsed while the Chuulkath lifted the human into the air and slammed his body into the rocky wall. Sand enveloped him; the volatile terrain exploded on his impact. The creature would remain blurred, its form undefined, as long as it stayed within the shade. Abawken kicked as instinct directed, but missed. Then the human’s legs were swept out from under him and he fell back into the soft sand. His lower body was still in the shade, but the brilliant sun blinded him briefly as he looked up. He felt it grab his legs and pull him back. Still disoriented, he managed to snatch his scimitar as he was dragged, and swung once again. This time he connected, and was released. He arched his back and quickly flipped up to his feet acrobatically.