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    The Dragon's Path
    The Dragon's Path
    The Dragon's Path
    Ebook292 pages4 hours

    The Dragon's Path

    By Kenneth McDonald

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    About this ebook

    The Dragon's Path is the third and final entry in the fantasy adventure series, "The Storm Shore." The orc army led by the half-demon warlord Zhakrukk has been defeated, allowing the dwarves of the storm shore a moment’s respite. But the orc chieftain himself has escaped, taking an ancient dwarvish artifact with him, and the orcs’ draconic ally is about to take the field. The dwarf champions of the Angyar Gyenn, along with two humans caught in the middle of the war, must finish the job begun at the gates of Caer Cargoth and recover the stolen Elding artifact before the orcs—or their deadly patron—can uncover its secrets.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherKenneth McDonald
    Release dateFeb 16, 2024
    ISBN9798224641307
    The Dragon's Path
    Author

    Kenneth McDonald

    I am a retired education consultant who worked for state government in the area of curriculum. I have also taught American and world history at a number of colleges and universities in California, Georgia, and South Carolina. I started writing fiction in graduate school and never stopped. In 2010 I self-published the novella "The Labyrinth," which has had over 100,000 downloads. Since then, I have published more than fifty fantasy and science fiction books on Smashwords. My doctorate is in European history, and I live with my wife in northern California.

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      Book preview

      The Dragon's Path - Kenneth McDonald

      Forgotten Lore

      The Dragon’s Path

      Kenneth McDonald

      Kmcdonald4101@gmail.com

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2024 by Kenneth McDonald

      Cover Credit: The cover image is adapted from Mosquito Trail, Rocky Mountains, Colorado, by Thomas Moran (1875). The image is in the public domain.

      * * * * *

      Works by Kenneth McDonald

      The Ogre at the Crossroads

      Forgotten Lore

      First Series – The Elderlore Libram

      Secrets of a Lost Age

      Warriors of Shadow

      The Shattered Key

      Mysteries of the Book

      Second Series – Shadows on the Frontier

      The Road to Ironbridge

      The Towers of Khormur-Dhain

      Trouble on the Borderlands

      The Horror in the Wood

      Third Series – The Gem of the Deep

      The Streets of Li Syval

      The Secrets of Li Syval

      The Heroes of Li Syval

      The Legacy of Li Syval

      The Fate of Li Syval

      The Gem of the Deep, Volume 1 (omnibus paperback edition)

      The Gem of the Deep, Volume 2 (omnibus paperback edition)

      Fourth Series – The Storm Shore

      Scourge of the Coast

      Gifts of the Ancestors

      The Dragon’s Path

      The Storm Shore (omnibus paperback edition)

      The Graves Crew

      The Graves Crew and the Restless Dead

      The Graves Crew and the Damned Dam

      The Graves Crew and the Firestar Amulet

      The Graves Crew and the Road of Doom

      The Graves Crew and the Magical Forest

      The Graves Crew and the Mountain Fortress

      The Adventures of the Graves Crew, Volume 1 (omnibus paperback edition)

      The Adventures of the Graves Crew, Volume 2 (omnibus paperback edition)

      Refugees of the Crucible

      Powerless

      Overpowered

      Balance of Power

      Legacy of the Bulrazi

      Power Play

      Power Game

      Power Surge

      Legacy of the Bulrazi (omnibus paperback edition)

      Soul Weapons

      Wizard’s Shield

      Soul of the Sword

      Wizard’s Stone

      Tales of the Soul Weapons

      The Dwarf on the Mountain

      Legends of the Soul Weapons, Volume 1 (omnibus paperback edition)

      Legends of the Soul Weapons, Volume 2 (omnibus paperback edition)

      The Colors of Fate

      Black Shadows Gather

      Green Hearts Weep

      Red Vengeance Rising

      Faded Yellow Dreams

      Blazing White Stars

      Shiny Golden Schemes

      Silent Gray Depths

      The Colors of Fate, Volume 1 (omnibus paperback edition)

      The Colors of Fate, Volume 2 (omnibus paperback edition)

      The Mages of Sacreth

      The Labyrinth

      Of Spells and Demons

      Grimm’s War

      Grimm’s Loss

      Grimm’s Love

      Of Blood and Magic

      Of Steel and Sorcery

      The Godswar Trilogy

      Paths of the Chosen

      Choice of the Fallen

      Fall of Creation

      Daran’s Journey

      Heart of a Hero

      Soul of a Coward

      Will of a Warrior

      Courage of a Champion

      * * * * *

      Chapter 1

      In the security of her underground lair, surrounded by thousands of tons of ice and rock, Venifrax slumbered.

      The temperature in the cavern was well below freezing, with the rime of ice that clung to the walls inches thick in places. The uneven ceiling above was likewise covered in a thick layer of ice, through which a faint glow of light filtered down from somewhere high above. That persistent glimmer shone brightly when it caught on items buried under the ice: bright coins, weapons, and other items crafted out of metal through the labor of humanoid hands.

      That pale radiance also revealed the massive bulk of the cavern’s occupant and owner. At first glance, the features of the huge white dragon seemed as elegant as the blades and jewels trapped under the ice. Her wings, folded against her body, could have enfolded a peasant’s cottage easily, while even in rest the muscles that bulged under a sheen of snow-white scales were impressive. But anyone foolish or desperate enough to get closer would have seen the signs of age creeping up on the great drake. Some of the scales were cracked or dulled with creeping gray, while the trailing edges of the wings and the tips of her claws were both ragged with the wear of time that came for all mortal things, even ancient dragons.

      The dragon’s sleep was restless; occasionally she twitched with enough force to dislodge a shower of icicles from the wall behind her. The cycle of light coming through the ice-roof came and went, and still the dragon slept. This was not unusual or unexpected; in the past she had slept for months at a time, and for once even more than a year, as her body sank into a state of deep hibernation.

      But such was not to be now, for eventually Venifrax stirred, drawn from her slumber by an intrusive tendril at the edges of her awareness. Her huge head shifted again, a snort of annoyance drawn from her lungs, but the prodding sensation persisted. Finally, one eyelid opened to reveal a milky gray orb that split to reveal a black, intense pupil. But the dragon’s attention wasn’t directed outward, toward the interior of her lair; she would have known instantly if something were amiss there. Instead, she directed her attention inward, to a connection she had created years ago.

      What is it that causes you to disturb my slumber? she thought into the link, not bothering to conceal her annoyance.

      Apologies, great mistress, but I have important news, came the response. The voice was thin and tinny, as if heard through a narrow crack in a slab of stone. Venifrax focused her will upon the link, taking some smidgen of satisfaction at the thought of her voice echoing within her subject’s head.

      Then speak, Maureg, she sent.

      The response was quick. Zhakrukk’s army has been dealt a significant setback at the gates of Caer Cargoth. He and the survivors are in full retreat to the west, back toward the captured hold and our own camps in the lower mountains.

      The fool, the dragon thought, before realizing that the link would capture it. He let himself be outmaneuvered by the storm dwarves? How did this happen?

      I do not yet know all the details, great mistress, but apparently a powerful working of magic was involved. There is more. I have received a report that one of the Elding artifacts has fallen into Zhakrukk’s hands, a dwarf-made helmet of archaic design.

      As she heard those words, the dragon reared up suddenly. Bits of ice that had frozen around her sleeping form shattered, sending sprays of shards against the surrounding walls and dislodging a more substantial mass that crashed down from above. Venifrax ignored all of it. Thoughts raced through her mind, thoughts that she was very careful to keep from the link. She actually felt a moment of admiration for her subject; he had deliberately inflicted the bad news upon her first, then used what she truly wanted to know to ease her anger.

      There was only silence from the link as she considered. Finally, she sent, Where is the artifact now?

      It travels toward Drov Torgoth with the warlord. The shaman… the one that recovered it, travels with him. I was about to set out again, to rejoin them there.

      Venifrax considered that a moment—there was much in that slight hesitation, a suggestion that her subject was keeping something from her—but she let it go for the moment. Remain where you are for now, she said. I will send you more instructions when I have had time to consider the implications of your words.

      As you command, great mistress.

      Venifrax severed the connection, acknowledging a slight feeling of relief as the other consciousness impinging upon her own disappeared. There were times that she regretted ever establishing these links, but then the slight twinges of her body as she fully shook herself from the spot where she’d coiled up to slumber reminded her of her purpose.

      As the dragon made her way across the chamber, the faint light from above caught briefly on something and created a bright flash upon her brow. The reflection came from a jewel that was attached to the front of the dragon’s head by four silver chains that extended all the way around the back of her skull. Against the sheer mass of the dragon the chains looked almost delicate, but each link was thicker than a human’s wrist. The jewel was another of those things that had turned out to be a mixed blessing… but what was done was done, Venifrax thought, deliberately directing her musings toward what her subject had told her.

      She needed more information, but would wait before reaching out to Maureg again; it would not do for the orc to know just how strongly his news had impacted her. In the meantime, there were… other ways, to learn what she needed to know.

      The dragon paused before a wall that was covered by a layer of ice so thick that the stone behind it was invisible. But the barrier shattered at a single blow from the dragon’s claw, the broken crystals of frozen water scattering with a loud clatter. The strike revealed a niche carved into the rock face, a hollow just a few feet wide and barely as deep. An object rested in that compartment, which the dragon carefully extracted with two claws and lifted into her grasp.

      For a long moment, she just stared at her prize. It was a metallic chest, its edges rounded enough to give it an almost ovoid shape. It had no obvious seams or locking mechanisms, and seemed to drink in the weak light from above as Venifrax lifted it, studied it.

      Soon, she thought. Soon.

      * * * * *

      Chapter 2

      Drenndrak Rockspanner felt a cold chill run down his spine as he made his way through the warren of storage chambers situated deep under the dwarf stronghold of Caer Cargoth.

      This place had been packed full of people just days ago, and there were still signs of that press of terrified refugees everywhere. A cleaning crew was going to be needed, he thought, as a waft of unpleasant odors reached his nose. But he quickly caught himself before that progressed to an unkind thought. A few days ago, he had thought that he and everyone else crammed into these tunnels was going to die. A few days ago, he had looked directly into the face of death in the form of a half-orc, half-demon monster, and somehow escaped. Even now, knowing what he knew, he almost could not believe what had happened.

      The medical storeroom was the very last chamber on the left, the thick threshold of the doorway so low that even he had to bend slightly to get to the heavy wooden door. He thought of Gev or Jando trying to navigate these deep chambers, and chuckled. That bit of mirth almost bubbled up into something else, and he had to stifle himself before he collapsed into a fit of laughter that would have been inappropriate, given what his people still faced.

      Keep it together, Drenn, he thought.

      The heavy key he’d been given fit into the lock, and turned with just a bit of extra effort. The room beyond it was tiny, really more of a closet, with shelves built into the back and side walls. The place was almost empty; most of the supplies had already been brought up to the infirmary during the siege, where they’d been put to good use by the team of trained medics and acolytes assigned there. That was where Drenn himself had spent most of his time during the repeated orc assaults.

      With the depleted state of the supply closet it only took him a few moments to find the crates he needed. With the orcs gone, there was less urgency, but he could fully understand the desire by the commanders of Caer Cargoth to prepare themselves for any eventuality. There were a few dwarves still recovering in the infirmary, but with the magical healing abilities possessed by the priests of the Brightflame, most of those who were not mortally hurt could be quickly restored, if not to full health, at least to a state good enough to let them leave under their own power.

      That thought opened up a whole other world of complex feelings, so he was completely distracted when he left the storeroom and almost ran into probably the last person he’d expected to find down here.

      Gah! he said, dropping the boxes he’d gathered. He almost lost his lamp as well, but the young woman he’d almost collided with quickly reached out and steadied it before it could slip from his grasp.

      Sorry about that, she said, though with a slight grin that suggested she had taken a bit of pleasure at his discomfiture. The medic on duty in the infirmary said you were down here gathering supplies, so I just came on down.

      Um… ah… Medrin, Drenn said, glad that the weak glow from the lamp concealed the deep flush he could feel creeping up his neck and across his cheeks. His gaze shifted to her wrists, which of course were bare, but she noticed his attention and held up her arms. It’s just plain old me, I’m afraid.

      You were never plain, he said, before he could think. When he realized what he had said, the heat on his cheeks went up a notch, and it felt like his ears were on fire. But the young woman—roughly Drenn’s age, both of them barely adults by the standards of their people—just laughed. I am not the only one to experience a sudden rise in status… Priest Rockspanner.

      I didn’t… Drenn began to protest, but Medrin interrupted him with a lifted hand. Don’t try to make light of it, Drenn. You channeled the power of the god. You saved a life.

      You saved a hundred, he said,

      Medrin shifted her gaze away, and for the first time, Drenn could see the strain that lay beneath her smile. It wasn’t me, she said.

      What did it feel like? he asked.

      It is difficult to describe, she said.

      I talked to Gev, briefly.

      I don’t know if the experience with my artifact was the same as him with his. I didn’t feel like there was another consciousness trying to take over mine, or tell me what to do. I just felt… you know I’ve always felt an affinity with stone, right?

      He remembered her picking up a rock back in the army camp to the south where he’d first met her, and shaping it into a facsimile of his face using only her fingers. You said that you chose Stoneweaver as your clan name for yourself, he said.

      That’s right. When I was wearing the Elding bracers… I felt that connection, but it was much stronger. Manipulating it felt almost effortless. I don’t know how I knew what to do, how I caused the collapse that destroyed the orc army. It just felt like instinct, you know?

      Drenn didn’t know, but this was the longest that he’d spoken to a girl that he could remember, and he was reluctant to say or do anything that might cause her to stop talking to him. So what happens now? he asked.

      She shook her head. I don’t know. The Council is meeting tonight, they can decide what to do.

      Do you think… I don’t know… that they’ll ask you to use the bracers again? I mean, everybody’s talking about them sending the army after the retreating orcs…

      I don’t know, Medrin said, but the way she said it told Drenn that it was something that she’d been thinking about.

      * * *

      Gev found Sorva Thundersteel alone in the small chapel that adjoined the chambers reserved for the Council of Caer Cargoth. He ducked out of reflex as he passed through the thick threshold of the entry, though it was unnecessary; as one of only two humans enjoying the hospitality of the Angyar Gyenn, he’d felt like something of a giant of late. He was used to tight spaces from his time on the Stormdancer, but the narrow passages and deep chambers of the dwarf citadel still felt close and constricting to him.

      The chapel was quiet and empty save for the two of them. The simple stone benches had been pushed against the walls, leaving a central space clear where the dwarven champion was…

      Actually, Gev wasn’t sure what Sorva was doing. It had the look of a dance, her body sliding through the space in slow, smooth motions. She was clad in simple robes rather than the heavy suit of plate armor he’d seen her in for almost the entire time of their acquaintance, but her moves were still those of a warrior, with no effort wasted, every step deliberate and efficient. She held her axe, Skullcleaver, the crescent blade gleaming every time she swept it around and it caught the light of the two candles burning atop the altar stone. Gev had seen that blade burn with a much brighter radiance when used in anger.

      He remained in the entry, not willing to disturb whatever Sorva was doing, but after completing another series of those slow moves, the axe sweeping around as if to cleave an approaching foe, she said, What is it, Gev?

      Sorry to bother you, he said, coming fully into the room. It’s just… I heard that the Council was meeting tonight.

      Yes, I was about to head there, she said.

      What… what was that you were doing?

      "It’s called a kata. It’s a kind of training exercise. I find that it helps focus the mind before going into battle."

      You see the council meeting as a battle?

      All of life is a battle, she said. She gestured toward one of the pews, where Gev saw that a small folded towel had been left. He handed it to her, and she wiped her brow and neck, though she hadn’t broken a sweat as far as he could tell. I don’t expect that’s what you wanted to know, however.

      Gev shifted a bit. He knew that Sorva preferred directness, but he felt suddenly uncomfortable alone with her. She’d all but told him straight out that she would make whatever sacrifices were needed to keep her people safe. He already knew that she considered her own life a fair part of that bargain; what troubled him was just how far beyond that she was willing to go. The word around the citadel is that the army will be heading out in pursuit of the orcs.

      That can hardly be a surprise, she said. If it were up to me, we’d already be in the field. Zhakrukk’s forces are in disarray, but we can’t give him time to regroup and rebuild his strength. Not to mention the fact that we have a fortress to recapture.

      Gev nodded, thinking back to his own time spent in the bowels of Drov Torgoth. He still had nightmares of that place, although those memories had gotten jumbled up somewhat in all that had happened since then. And the helmet?

      She gave him a hard look. We haven’t forgotten about it. Believe me, no one has forgotten about it.

      She didn’t say anything more, just waited for him to respond. But Gev found that he couldn’t ask the question he most wanted the answer to. Are you done with me? He wasn’t sure that he wanted to hear the answer that Sorva would give him.

      The silence stretched out for a long, awkward minute before there was an audible chime that sounded clearly even through the heavy chapel door. It’s time, Sorva said, tossing down the dry towel and hefting her axe. Find Jando and wait for me in the antechamber outside of the council hall. I should have more to say after we’re done.

      * * * * *

      Chapter 3

      What are they talking about in there? Jando Sahl asked, as he paced back and forth in the confined space of the antechamber. Every circuit he’d pause and look out into the hallway that led to the closed double doors to the council hall, though it was unlikely that they would have failed to hear them open. Gods of the Triad, it’s almost the middle of the bloody night.

      Gev didn’t respond, he just shifted in a vain effort to get comfortable on the hard bench that rested against the far wall. He felt surprisingly calm. Whatever was happening behind those closed doors, he had no ability whatsoever to change it. And for some reason, the more antsy Jando got, the more his own tension seemed to drain away.

      You’re sure Sorva didn’t tell you anything more about why she wanted us to wait? Jando asked, for the second time.

      I told you everything she said, Gev said.

      Jando stepped over to the open doorway that connected to the hall and checked the far doors again. I was thinking, he finally ventured. About maybe heading east with the refugees, the ones who haven’t left yet. There might still be a chance for a ship heading north. Winter on the Iron Coast is likely to be rough, but at least people there aren’t constantly trying to kill you. He paused and looked back at Gev. Maybe you can leave as well, now that the helmet’s gone.

      Gev sighed. I’m not sure it’s that easy, he said.

      Jando looked back at the doors. Nothing has been, since we got here.

      He started as the doors to the council chamber opened, with a sudden burst of light and activity. Gev got up quickly despite his earlier feelings of resignation and joined his friend, watching the steady stream of high-ranking dwarves leaving the place. He spotted General Crafthammer, the warrior in charge of the military forces of the Angyar Gyenn. He thought that the elder dwarf looked angry, but then all dwarves kind of looked angry to him. And the general had good reason, he thought. He’d been blocked from coming to Caer Cargoth’s rescue by a detachment of orcs and ogres just strong enough to keep him tied up to the south while Zhakrukk’s main force assaulted the fortress. Though it had worked out in one way; at least the Angyar Gyenn still had an army to send after the fleeing orcs.

      Most of the dwarves ignored their two human guests, but then Gev caught sight of Sorva as she walked out in the company of another dwarf that he didn’t know. Jando started toward her, but she cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. Later, she said as she passed the two surprised humans. Meet me where we met earlier in an hour, she added in a sharp whisper to Gev, before following the other dwarves out.

      What was that all about? Jando asked, once they had all left.

      I don’t know, Gev said, but he felt an icy feeling begin to spread in his gut.

      * * *

      Sorva found Corvar in one of the barracks on the upper level of the citadel. The long, low chamber had double bunks built into the walls, enough to sleep a score of dwarf warriors, but at the moment her friend and strong right hand had the place to himself. He’d spread out a broad assortment of deadly kit on the low stone table that ran down the length of the room. In addition to his axe, clean, oiled, and sharpened as always, he had three daggers, including one punch-blade that could fit into a glove or a boot, his folding crossbow, and

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