Three Quest Deal (Tales of Former Dragons Book 1) by Rainer Domingo
Authors: Rainer Domingo
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ask them to heal Merrim and Karsten.” Wolford waited for Randolph to say something, but noticed he was deep in thought. After an awkward moment of silence he asked, “Why? What were you thinking?”
Randolph shook his head and focused his attention back on Wolford. “Sorry, my lord.” He looked around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers in the courtyard, leaned forward, and whispered, “I was thinking we need to offer them some incentive to help dissuade them from siding with Lord Callan.”
Wolford nodded and gave Randolph a shrewd look. “Let’s form an alliance with the mages. Give them land, servants. Build them a tower. That will buy their allegiance. I don’t think Callan will have more to offer them than that. The key is to get to them first. Now go and find them.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Randolph stood, bowed, and excused himself.
CHAPTER 15
Damon steered his ox cart up to the gate that led into the land of orcs. It was his first time transporting people to Kazzix-Tor and he wasn’t sure how it would be perceived by the orcs. A drop of sweat trickled down the side of his face and he quickly wiped it with the sleeve of his shirt.
“State yo business,” the orc guard said in a deep voice. He had a gray beard and gray receding hair tied back into a braided ponytail, and his left arm had been amputated at the elbow. A rectangular mace hung from his belt.
Damon swallowed hard. “I’m taking these people to Kazzix-Tor,” he said nervously.
The orc looked at the rear of the cart and noted the five passengers sitting behind Damon. He walked around to the back of the cart and looked at each in turn. “Be dis da first time yo been to the land of orcs?”
“Yes,” Drakor said.
“Den be sure da driva explain da rules to yo, so yo stay outta trouble.”
“Yes, he will do that.”
The orc walked back to Damon. “Yo can go.”
Damon nodded. He let out of sigh of relief as he pulled away from the gate.
Drakor climbed up to the front of the cart and sat next to Damon. “So tell me, what are these rules he’s talking about?”
“The rules…” Damon said. “The rules are a code of conduct to make sure men aren’t killed while traveling to and from Kazzix. They’re actually pretty simple. Stay on the yellow marked road. Only stop at the designated rest stops. Don’t travel at night. And if you’re stopped by an orc patrol, do as you’re told.”
“Have you ever been stopped?”
“Never.”
“You seemed nervous at the gate.”
Damon nodded. “I was. I don’t know what you’re up to. Why are you going to Kazzix?”
Drakor looked at Damon and then at the road ahead. “We’re looking for an orc named Grand Master Shaman Raah.”
Damon’s jaw dropped. He abruptly stopped the cart and looked at Drakor. “You’re jesting with me, right? Please tell me you’re jesting.”
“Is something wrong?” Xan asked from the back. “Why have we stopped?”
“It’s nothing,” Drakor replied. “We’ll be continuing soon.”
“Please tell me you’re jesting,” Damon pleaded. “Please tell me you didn’t heal my foot so I can die in Kazzix.” He covered his face with both hands and leaned forward. “I think I’m going to be ill.”
Drakor grabbed the reins and tapped the tops of the oxen’s backs with a stick, just like he had seen Damon do when they departed Barland. “What are you talking about?”
Damon sat up and wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “Raah isn’t just any shaman. Not only is he the most powerful shaman that ever lived, but he’s also the oldest orc that ever lived. If he finds out you’re looking for him, he’ll have you killed just to make sure you don’t kill him first.”
“What do you mean he’s the oldest orc that ever lived?”
“Most orcs only live to maybe fifty or sixty years old. I’ve been told he’s more than two hundred years old. They also say he doesn’t look a day older than the day he fought Baldazar the
Randolph shook his head and focused his attention back on Wolford. “Sorry, my lord.” He looked around to make sure there were no eavesdroppers in the courtyard, leaned forward, and whispered, “I was thinking we need to offer them some incentive to help dissuade them from siding with Lord Callan.”
Wolford nodded and gave Randolph a shrewd look. “Let’s form an alliance with the mages. Give them land, servants. Build them a tower. That will buy their allegiance. I don’t think Callan will have more to offer them than that. The key is to get to them first. Now go and find them.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Randolph stood, bowed, and excused himself.
CHAPTER 15
Damon steered his ox cart up to the gate that led into the land of orcs. It was his first time transporting people to Kazzix-Tor and he wasn’t sure how it would be perceived by the orcs. A drop of sweat trickled down the side of his face and he quickly wiped it with the sleeve of his shirt.
“State yo business,” the orc guard said in a deep voice. He had a gray beard and gray receding hair tied back into a braided ponytail, and his left arm had been amputated at the elbow. A rectangular mace hung from his belt.
Damon swallowed hard. “I’m taking these people to Kazzix-Tor,” he said nervously.
The orc looked at the rear of the cart and noted the five passengers sitting behind Damon. He walked around to the back of the cart and looked at each in turn. “Be dis da first time yo been to the land of orcs?”
“Yes,” Drakor said.
“Den be sure da driva explain da rules to yo, so yo stay outta trouble.”
“Yes, he will do that.”
The orc walked back to Damon. “Yo can go.”
Damon nodded. He let out of sigh of relief as he pulled away from the gate.
Drakor climbed up to the front of the cart and sat next to Damon. “So tell me, what are these rules he’s talking about?”
“The rules…” Damon said. “The rules are a code of conduct to make sure men aren’t killed while traveling to and from Kazzix. They’re actually pretty simple. Stay on the yellow marked road. Only stop at the designated rest stops. Don’t travel at night. And if you’re stopped by an orc patrol, do as you’re told.”
“Have you ever been stopped?”
“Never.”
“You seemed nervous at the gate.”
Damon nodded. “I was. I don’t know what you’re up to. Why are you going to Kazzix?”
Drakor looked at Damon and then at the road ahead. “We’re looking for an orc named Grand Master Shaman Raah.”
Damon’s jaw dropped. He abruptly stopped the cart and looked at Drakor. “You’re jesting with me, right? Please tell me you’re jesting.”
“Is something wrong?” Xan asked from the back. “Why have we stopped?”
“It’s nothing,” Drakor replied. “We’ll be continuing soon.”
“Please tell me you’re jesting,” Damon pleaded. “Please tell me you didn’t heal my foot so I can die in Kazzix.” He covered his face with both hands and leaned forward. “I think I’m going to be ill.”
Drakor grabbed the reins and tapped the tops of the oxen’s backs with a stick, just like he had seen Damon do when they departed Barland. “What are you talking about?”
Damon sat up and wiped the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. “Raah isn’t just any shaman. Not only is he the most powerful shaman that ever lived, but he’s also the oldest orc that ever lived. If he finds out you’re looking for him, he’ll have you killed just to make sure you don’t kill him first.”
“What do you mean he’s the oldest orc that ever lived?”
“Most orcs only live to maybe fifty or sixty years old. I’ve been told he’s more than two hundred years old. They also say he doesn’t look a day older than the day he fought Baldazar the
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