The Fall of Dorkhun Read Online Free Page A

stood and faced him, and he stepped back, raising his open palms toward her. She knotted her hands into fists and gritted her teeth. More than anything, she wanted to kill Jase and Torkdohn, wanted to hear the river take them, but deep inside, she knew Roskin deserved the chance to punish Torkdohn more than she.
    “Fine,” she said, turning away. “Let the white beards kill them. What do I care how they die?”
    “Do you know this area?” Leinjar asked, stepping closer.
    “Well enough.”
    “Can you guide us to the Kiredurks?”
    Molgheon stared into the distance, trying to remember her one trip to the southern gate more than twenty years before. She knew the northern Ghaldeon lands up to the Snivegohn Valley as well as anyone but spent little time any farther north. She knew she could get them to the valley, but from there, they might need help.
    “Just head west,” she said, not looking at him. “I can get us close.”
    Leinjar motioned for the others to dismount and help him, and together, they loaded the cage into the wagon. In a matter of minutes, they had the wagon loaded and the horse hitched and were ready to turn back towards the Kiredurk Kingdom. Still angry, Molgheon refused to climb into the wagon, instead choosing to walk behind. Leinjar rode beside the cage, and the other two Tredjards got into the front to drive. The Ghaldeons remounted and rode two in front of the wagon, three behind. Because the horses had been driven hard, they settled on a slow pace, and the dwarves agreed that after the frenzied chase, this part of the trip was already better. After a few minutes, Torkdohn began to stir.
    “You’ll regret not letting her kill me,” he said to Leinjar. “Mark my words.”
    Molgheon started to shout at Torkdohn, but Leinjar spoke first.
    “If you speak again, I’ll cut out your tongue myself,” he said. “I dare you to try me.”
    Hatred flashed in the old Ghaldeon’s eyes, but he remained silent.
    “That goes for you, too,” Leinjar said to Jase. “Both of you keep your mouths shut.”
    The wagon groaned and popped as it moved along the uneven ground, and Molgheon watched the cage closely, making sure the old dwarf didn’t catch one of them off guard with some trick. Since she had planned on drowning them, she hadn’t searched either one properly, and there was no telling what Torkdohn might try.
    Despite her legs being stiff and sore from confinement, she kept pace easily. Walking felt good, and after a couple of miles, her joints and muscles loosened up enough that the pain was mostly gone. In the distance, the western mountains rose high, the snow-capped peaks radiating golden light as the afternoon sun sank towards the horizon. The sight was the most welcome thing Molgheon had seen in many, many years. She was almost home.
    ***
    Suvene was being hunted. He knew it, could feel the gaze as he stumbled up the steep, rocky path. He hadn’t seen whatever it was that stalked him, but it had been there for three days. Once or twice in his peripheral vision, he thought he had seen it rustle leaves in the underbrush, but by the time he had turned in that direction, the rustling had stopped, and the woods were as still and quiet as death, an unnatural silence that bothered him more than if he actually saw the creature.
    A week had passed since he had escaped the orc guards who were supposed to escort him back to the fortress for punishment, and at first, he thought he was being chased by his own people, but when nothing happened on the first night, he realized it had to be something else. Soldiers would have rushed him and not let so much distance pass. This creature was taking its time, almost as if it were enjoying the hunt.
    He continued up the trail, his legs and lungs burning from the climb, and as the third night approached, he scanned the mountainside for a good tree to sleep in. Through the day, he had managed to scavenge a few berries, but he was weak with hunger. If he didn’t