Swamp of Death Read online

  SWAMP OF DEATH

  BOOK ONE OF THE DORULL SAGA

  By Dan Mat

  Copyright 2016 Dan Mat

  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your enjoyment only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Epilogue

  Prologue

  At a crack of dawn, whilst the first rays of light came above the horizon, a small, yet packet caravan of few wagons, begin its journey from Gollvin. This mining town was the most northern colony of humans in Tanmar. Vicious, highly dangerous swamp. Hidden maze of sharp edged cliffs, deep inside the rocky mountain of Laorn, protected this mining community from many dangers. But the isolation from the other human settlements, took its toll on the brave people of Gollvin.

  Planting crops in this hard, porous soil was futile, somewhat wasteful. Very few animals could survive this harsh environment. Lives of miners depended on every caravan, every wagon, that they send towards the south. Yet despite all the odds, they managed to survive. Food reserves almost depleted after a long, and harsh winter. And it dictated their need for sending a shipment this early in the year. And there, far away to the south, a magnificent port of Vallsynk was the destination for all their caravans. The arrangement with merchants was everything but fair, yet the only way of making their livelihood even possible.

  Hard, almost impossible conditions would seem staggering for everyone, but not these brave man and women of Gollvin. Leaving their homes, town and mine, was out of the question. Their pride was that strong. Blood, sweat and bones of ancestors laid the foundations to secure Gollvin’s existence. Generations upon generations, were inseparably bonded to these mountains. Here to stay, forever.

  Heavy carts, full of precious ore, creaked through the massive, steel-reinforced, wooden gates, on their way out. Hundreds of worrisome, frightened family members and closest friends, escorted them almost a full mile outside of the town. Everlasting goodbyes halted caravans departure for almost an hour. The fear impelled them to prolong leaving. Not at all surprising, because of the constant given threats throughout and all over Tanmar. The deadly swamp was unforgiving.

  At last, after some time, the caravan finally begin its journey. Muddy, narrow road, full of bends and turns was one and only route to the south. Twisting and winding, like some kind of a snake, all the way to the lake Kabial, and the port of Vallsynk. This magnificent trading center, was eventual destination of all Gollvin caravans. With perhaps their most valuable cargo in many years, miners had high hopes for their approach to strike a new, better deal, with merchants. But foremost, it was necessary to go through Tanmar safely.

  This dark, bleak swamp, this wild and inhospitable territory, full of dangerous beasts and creatures, was the everlasting subject of dispute amongst orcs and humans. Some sort of buffer zone between the regions, which borders would change, sometimes as often as the seasons. Hatred towards eachother, deeply imbeded in their genes, insured the constant conflicts. The discovery of riches beneath the surface, only amplified that. Last war had ended over two decades ago, but despite the truce, distrust imposed a heavy presence of soldiers on both sides of the border.

  To warrant the expenditure, in time, military begin providing the security mission details for convoys that shipped ore out of Gollvin. Occasional attacks from orcs never induced any major conflicts, their sole purpose was to cause unrest. And for those cunning councilmen from the south, that was something they knew how to exploit.

  Chapter 1

  Thick, almost knee-high carpet of fog, looked menacing, as it rippled from the gusts of cold, northern wind. Bleak silence, interrupted by the scarce, jittery neighs from horses, made the passengers even more restless. They’ve traveled just over two weeks, but in this unvaried scenery, the journey felt like an eternity.

  Sudden lightning tore across the sky, as the distant thunder rolled over, bringing first drops of rain. Leading the way, riding ahead of the caravan, lieutenant Elkul Tarmis waved his right hand, signaling others to pick up their pace. He was a rather large man, with broad shoulders and muscly arms. Elkul was in his forties, but already had more gray hair, than not. With the constant grim on his face, since they left Gollvin, it was apparent that he did not approve on this mission. With just two soldiers under his command, he knew that they are very vulnerable. Although he completely understood the reasons for this ill conceived, hastened atempt of sending goods. His opinion differed from those of the miners council. They should've stick to the protocol, and waited for the escort from Thirel post.

  Yes, it was true. Their food reserves were almost out, but they could’ve resorted to stretching the rations. It could've been done. It would be wiser. Never the less, lieutenant Tarmis was proud for being chosen for this mission. His allegiance to Gollvin was beyond everything. And Elkul had yet another task. The list of demands signed by all of the townsfolk, addressed to the Vallsynk council. Their relations towards the miners, was borderline insulting. It was obvious that something had to change. These were desperate times. How much more will they be able to endure?

  The road was by now well drenched in rain. Even the horses had trouble treading through the mud. Pungent stench of foul moss and rotten undergrowth, was all over this gray swamplands. Remains of old, long lost caravans layed about. Eroded, etched by time, as a somber reminder of the danger that was every given day, in this brutal place. As the sun started to set, caravan came to the first outpost. Over fifty feet tall, the wooden watchtower stood opposed to the Hanlock hills, a casual resting place for many travelers.

  “Tend to the horses and carts.“ Tarmis gave quick orders “We'll rest 'till mornin
'.“

  Long time ago, in these hills, there was a rather large lair of ogres. A vicious tribe of murderers and pillagers, who sought to spread fear and terror all over Tanmar. They made enemies in every other race, which ultimately led to their final demise. Few of those who managed to survive, fled somewhere far and deep to the north of Laorn.

  Half an hour later, caravan was secured in front of the small cave. Its entrance was large enough to bring in all the horses. For the miners, their carts would have to suffice as a resting place for the night. Lookout was empty. The palisade that was surrounding it, was locked shut. Soldiers from Thirel post weren't due to arrive at this outpost for about three weeks. Somewhat eroded, covered in moss and overgrown, thick weeds, the small fort certainly saw the better days. Yet still, it stood in spite of the harsh weather.

  “All is done lieutenant.“ one of the soldiers that was helping miners, came to the mound above the cave entrance “But it would be mighty fine, if we were to sleep inside that post.“

  “Any problems?“

  “A few.“ soldier sat beside “Let's just say, they weren't happy with order to remain in dark.“

  “Nothin', that a good night of rest can't fix.“ Elkul answered.

  “Aye.“ soldier agreed.

  As the miners fell asleep, the three soldiers took a lookout positions above the camp. Rain was easing, as the clouds begin to disperse revealing a clear, beautiful night skies. Full moon shone over the valley, illuminating a hundreds of puddles at the same time. A stunning spectacle of flickering lights, which made the swamp alive. Blinded by this wonderful display, soldiers were completely unaware of the threat, that lurked behind their backs.

  A gang of over two dozen heavily armed goblins, stumbled upon caravan tracks, four days ago. Catching them was easy enough, so they went ahead, right to these hills. It was an ideal place for setting up an ambush. Goblins had to be patient, to try and take humans by surprise. And now, as they were sitting still in their hiding holes, the opportunity presented itself. The humans fell asleep.

  “Kill 'em all!“ grisly shriek broke the silence “Show no mercy!“

  Caught by the surprise, soldiers reacted slow, almost sluggish. Goblins were already all around them. There was just enough time to grab hold the nearest weapons. Outnumbered and exposed, their only viable option was to hold together, hoping that they could fend off the attack. But goblins were a couple of steps ahead. In one swift maneuver, they managed to separate the soldiers from each other. With one eye on the camping site, Elkul Tarmis somehow dodged every attack. His moves were calculated, he needed to keep composure. Just one, small mistake could be fatal. And if fighting this many enemies at the same time wasn't difficult enough, he had to keep an eye out on the sleeping miners.

  Goblins attacks were vicious, always in pairs. They couldn't stand a chance otherwise. Humans were almost double in size, resorting them to find the advantage in numbers. Wave upon wave, it seemed like their attack is neverending. And by doing so, they weren't giving human soldiers even a second, to take a breather.

  Barely audible sigh, came to the right of lieutenant Tarmis, as he glanced at one of his combatants. Soldier was on his knees, trying to pick up the sword, with his gruesomely mangled hand. His head was tilted awkwardly to the side. It seemed that he could not comprehend the loss of a limb. Fight was already over for the other soldier, yet his beheaded body, still could not find the peace. A couple of goblins were beating him beyond recognition. For in their awakened bloodlust, they became senseless monsters.

  “Fight soldier!“ Elkul yelled to no avail.

  But it was too late, goblins were on top of the unfortunate soldier in an instant. One hard hit, cracked the soldier's head split open. He was dead even before the second struck fell upon him. Goblins proceed onto hitting his lifeless body, until they made sure, there was nothing else to break. Lieutenant Tarmis could only watch helpless, as the goblin raid party suddenly split in two. They were moving towards the miner’s resting camp. And he knew, he couldn't do anything about that. There was still ten odd goblins surrounding him. Taunting him. Eager to spill his blood. The chances of survival were fading rapidly. There was now only one thing on Elkul’s mind. To try and take out as many of those rats with him.

  Goblins jumped him, at the same time as that other group unleashed the killing spree onto the unsuspecting miners. Somehow, Tarmis managed to deflect a first few waves, and in process inflict a mortal wounds to two or three of his attackers. But, a single slip of concentration, prove to be enough to turn this fight around, as one goblin crept behind him. Swift, precise thrust of the sharp dagger, struck Elkul's lower back, rendering him temporarily incapacitated. Sharp pain inflamed all of the nerves, as blade scraped his backbone. By twisting his wrist, goblin considerably widened the gash. That was his first mistake. Release of the pressure, restored the sensation in lieutenant's extremities. Second one proved to be fatal, as goblin stood to close.

  Driven by the rage, Tarmis turn vigorously, swinging his sword, plunging it deep in the goblin's torso. It took him couple of tries to free the blade, which was stuck deep between the ribs of the now dead goblin. And in that split second, he put his guard down. Another goblin was right on top of him, lunging with the spear, aiming at Elkul's chest. In that instant, lieutenant Tarmis knew that he was beaten. His whole life flashed before his eyes. Surprising him a bit, as to how calm he accepted this fate.

  Sharp, jagged tip, pierced easily through Elkul's chainmail, just missing his heart, and went straight through the back, under his shoulder blade. Against all odds, he was still alive, although badly injured. Pain was somewhat bearable, but Tarmis knew he is losing a lot of blood, with every passing second. He felt weak, dizzy and helpless. His legs could not support him anymore. In despair, Elkul swung his sword wildly, but missed. The awkward attempt, took all of the remaining strength, as he fell to his knees. One glance at the miners camp, told Tarmis, what he already feared. He was to die last.

  Lieutenant Elkul's sword slipped from his numb fingers. He felt the touch of cold, steel blade, against his exposed neck. A moment of absolute clarity, in which he came at peace with himself, end abruptly as knife went in. Tarmis closed his eyes, exhaling for the very last time. He was dead.

  Somewhat later, goblins gathered around the miners campsite. They were all curious to see the spoils. But more importantly, they had to leave from this place, as soon as possible. It took them some time to harness all of the horses. As if animals purposely defied, these new, different, unknown masters.

  “Moorg's power is raising, as we claim these treasures!“ the largest goblin of them all yelled, pointing his fat finger towards their apparent leader, who stood tall on the roof of the cart.

  “Moorg! Moorg! Moorg!“

  “Zuut will soon feel the strenght of our true leader, Moorg!“ large goblin yelled again.

  “Moorg, Moorg, Moorg!“ goblins were now even louder, in approval of these words.

  “Enough!“ Moorg raised his hand authoritatively “Get in the wagons. Let’s move!“

  The dawn was still a couple of hours away, as small caravan resumed its journey. No longer towards south, but to the east. Under the impression of this great victory, goblins were still acting wild, unbridled. Intoxication from the recent fight, hindered them to sit still. They were jumping all around the wagons, wildly swinging their swords, trying to re-enact the attack, over and over again. For many young, goblin warriors, this was completely new experience. And a wondrous feeling. One which they will remember for the rest of their lives.

  A few older, wiser goblins, sat calmly on the roofs of the wagons. Remembering those days, when they felt the same as the young ones. A long gone times, when goblins dared to defy other races. Brave warriors turned into cowards, as they chose to spend most of the time hidden deep under ground. Thus avoiding any contact with the surface dwellers. Moorg was determined in intent, to bring much needed changes to his kind. But first of all, he had to become king. First s
tep was already made. Stealing the human treasure. This gave him the means to challenge for the crown. Zuut was their king for a very long time, but it seemed, that somewhere down the line, he lost the ability to lead.

  Long ago, Zuut was certainly one of the bravest, strongest warriors in the tribe. But all those years which he spend lulled in a false power, served only for endless feasts and drinking. Because of that, in Moorg's eyes, he was no longer fit to wear the crown. But still, he had to tread carefully, for Zuut's followers were numerous. And they were loyal.

  Furtively, when he felt assured, that no one was looking, Moorg carefully took a rather small, silver disc, out of his pocket. It was about the size of his palm, made from a very light metal alloy, unknown to goblins. Mild, red light, would flash occasionally, from the small indent in the center of the disk, followed by a short, quiet, buzzing noise. With the tips of his fingers, Moorg lightly brushed over the smooth surface of the disc, as if he was taking care for his child.

  “Your sacrifice won't be in vain, father.“ goblin whispered, as he put the disc safely back into his pocket.

  They soon left Hanlok behind, heading towards the east. In the distance, somewhere above Laorn, thunderstorm was brewing. Omen of the dark days that were ahead.

  Chapter 2

  Last glimmer of light faded over the horizon, as the sun set behind Laorn. For a moment, there was nothing but darkness, when all of the sudden, an intense flicker of flames begin to hover over the treetops, of a lush, wild forest. Shadowy figure stepped from the brushwood, as he was careful not to attract any attention. In a couple of swift, yet strong strides, he came upon a steep shore of a very cold, slow river, that was flowing through this valley. Something was awfully wrong with this place. It felt so familiar, like he was here before. But that would be highly unlikely, because these were orcish lands.

  “Thorin, come this way.“ barely audible whisper came from the other side of the river.