Barbarian Backlash: Dragon Wars - Book 14 of 20: An Epic Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Adventure Series

  Contents

  1. The Past - Ice Vale Township

  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

  49. The Present – Safe Haven

  50. Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Books

  Dragon Wars: Barbarian Backlash - Book 14

  By Craig Halloran

  ★★★★★

  Copyright © 2020 by Craig Halloran

  Amazon Edition

  TWO-TEN BOOK PRESS

  PO Box 4215, Charleston, WV 25364

  ISBN eBook: 978-1-946218-92-6

  ISBN Paperback: 979-8-597994-23-9

  ISBN Hardback: 978-1-946218-93-3

  www.craighalloran.com

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, recorded, photocopied, or otherwise—without the prior permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Publisher’s Note

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Created with Vellum

  1

  The Past - Ice Vale Township

  “This is the biggest bed I’ve ever seen.” Dyphestive lay sprawled on a huge mattress more than big enough for two full-sized Dyphestives. He stretched his hands and feet toward each corner. “Look at this, Grey Cloak. I can’t touch the edges.” He sat up and flopped back down.

  “Yes, I know. I can see that.” Grey Cloak soaked in an ivory claw-foot tub filled with steaming water. He poured a jug of hot water over his head. “Aaaaah! It doesn’t get any better than this.”

  They were lodged inside an expansive suite with pine walls and oak floors. A roaring fire burned inside a huge stone fireplace, and an elk’s head hung over the mantel. Streak lay curled in front of the hearth, his eyes closed. The two identical beds, big enough for kings, were layered with heavy blankets and cotton sheets. Every practical amenity could be found, from a kitchen table and cupboards to a bar with plenty of jugs and wine bottles and a stock of dried beef, cheeses, and fruit to eat. A bay window overlooking the township completed the room.

  Dyphestive snuggled under his beddings. “I almost feel guilty being this comfortable.”

  “You might as well enjoy it.” Grey Cloak scooped his bathwater into the jug and poured it over his head again. “It won’t last.”

  “I know.” Dyphestive closed his eyes with a lazy smile. “But one day, it will always be like this. I swear it.”

  Grey Cloak shrugged his eyebrows. “Agreed.” He sprinkled more bath salts into the water and let his sore muscles soak. As much as he wanted to relax, he couldn’t stop his churning thoughts. Lorry, a ferret-faced man representing the Culpepper family, who set the brothers up with the fine lodging, had given him a lot to think about. He’d learned that when they’d entered the Time Mural, they’d gone back in time a decade. It was an opportunity to start over again. And in an odd way, it gave them time—time to figure out how to stop Black Frost. He closed his eyes, submerged himself in the deep tub, and lingered.

  Perhaps I can stop Black Frost before he sees us coming. But how far back exactly did we go? The year 6012? That’s after we left Rhonna at Havenstock, isn’t it? And if we’re here from the future, where are our present selves? This is too much to think about, but I have to turn it to my advantage.

  Lorry appeared beside the bathtub. His thinning hair was swiped over one side of his head, and he wore the same sea-blue scarf and coat as before. A heavy robe hung in his arms. He set it down by the tub. “How is your bath?”

  “Never better.” Grey Cloak wiped his eyes.

  Lorry handed him a small towel.

  “Thanks.”

  “Anything for the slayers of White Ice. The Culpepper family is eager to meet you,” Lorry said silkily. “But they want you to rest while they attend to their affairs. They are very busy people.”

  “I can imagine.” Grey Cloak reached for the robe.

  Lorry snatched it up. “Here, let me help you.”

  “I’d prefer you didn’t.”

  “Certainly.” Lorry handed him the robe, turned to face the fire, and wandered toward the mantel. “Your runt dragon seems comfortable. Does he have a name?”

  “Streak.” Grey Cloak wrapped himself in the robe and stepped out of the tub. “But don’t pet him. He bites.”

  The beady-eyed man eased back. “Oh.”

  Grey Cloak tied the belt to his robe and wiped his feet on the towels surrounding the base of the tub. “I have to admit, this is a very nice arrangement. I could get used to it.”

  “We could get used to it!” Dyphestive set his feet on the floor and eyed Grey Cloak. “That’s a nice robe. Can I get one?”

  “Yes, of course. Yours is being sewn as we speak. Pardon the delay. You are far bigger than a typical guest.” Lorry wrung his hands. “But you will have what you need soon.” He moved to the tub and pressed a button on the floor. The tub started to drain. “I’ll summon the handmaid to bring fresh water.”

  Dyphestive smacked his hands together. “Great! I can’t remember if I’ve ever had a hot bath before.” He scratched his head. “Have I?”

  “I think so.” Grey Cloak eased his hands into the pockets of his robe and moved in front of the bay window. The terrace outside overlooked the splendid winter city. It was nighttime, but street lantern posts lit up the well-defined network of streets. “Tell us more about the Culpeppers, Lorry. Do they run the city?”

  “In a manner of speaking. They’re a very strong family who own much of what you see. Mining is one of their many businesses. White Ice has been a nuisance to them for a very long time. But you vanquished him, or it, rather.” Lorry managed a small smile. “The Culpeppers are grateful. I’m excited for you to meet them. It is very rare that anyone gains their favor. They are hard people.”

  Grey Cloak glanced at his brother. “Is that so?”

  The door opened, and a train of attractive young women entered the room. They each carried two pails of hot water o
n rods that lay across their shoulders. Helping one another out, they efficiently filled the bathtub. Dyphestive wiggled his fingers at them. They giggled and exited the room as quickly as they came.

  “If you like, I can have them return and bathe you,” Lorry suggested.

  “Really?” Dyphestive’s cheeks turned rosy. In a goofy manner, he said, “I don’t know about that.”

  “If you decide, someone will be stationed outside your door. Let them know.” Lorry started picking up loose clothing scattered on the floor. “I’ll have this washed for you.”

  Grey Cloak retrieved the Cloak of Legends from Lorry’s grip. “I’ll hang onto this.”

  Lorry returned a disapproving look. “If you insist, but it won’t be any trouble to wash.”

  “No need.” He tossed the cloak on his bed. “So, when will we be meeting the Culpeppers?”

  “Soon. But in the meantime, make yourselves at home. And feel free to explore the township. There are many places to drink and eat that I believe you will enjoy. Don’t worry about paying. Everything is taken care of.” Lorry bowed, slipped outside, and closed the door behind him.

  Dyphestive entered the tub and started to soap up. “Look. Bubbles.”

  “Yes,” Grey Cloak said absentmindedly. He took the door outside to the terrace. The icy air kissed his face. He watched Lorry’s hasty retreat into the streets as the man vanished into the night.

  Streak hopped up on the terrace wall overlooking the township. “I don’t know about you, but I think he’s shady.”

  Grey Cloak nodded. “Agreed.”

  2

  It was morning, and Grey Cloak had slept well for the first time he could remember. He had to hand it to the people of Ice Vale, they knew how to make an elf feel comfortable.

  Dyphestive held up his jerkin and asked Lorry, “Are these even the same clothes?”

  “The same design.” Lorry set a neatly folded stack of clothing on the end of Grey Cloak’s bed. “Your old clothing was rotten, to say the least. We sewed new attire for you both. It will be more suitable to wear in front of the Culpeppers. We made more, if you like. I hope you’ll find them comfortable.”

  Grey Cloak picked up a pair of fine leather boots. “This is very nice.” He turned them upside down and noted the tread on the sole. “Different from my last pair. Better material.”

  “Your clothing needs to be durable in the north, as well as warm and supple.” Lorry ambled over to the fireplace and fed another log onto the fire. “Only the best treatment for the slayers of White Ice.”

  Dyphestive patted his stomach. “I’m ready to eat.” He flared his nostrils and looked out the bay window. “I can smell something good cooking.”

  “Yes, the lodge has a galley downstairs. You can go and eat all you want.” Lorry hustled to the door and opened it. “I’ll meet you down there.”

  Grey Cloak put on his new brick-colored jerkin, black vest, and trousers. He pulled the boots on over his wool socks then nodded at the door. “Streak.”

  “Way ahead of you, boss.” Streak walked by the door and closed it with one of his twin tails. “That Lorry sure is a friendly guy, but it doesn’t go with his voice. Do you know what I mean?”

  “I do.” Grey Cloak tightened his belt and put on his cloak. “Hop in.”

  “I get to go?” Streak climbed up Grey Cloak’s body and into the hood. “You don’t have to tell me twice.”

  “I’m not going anywhere without you. I don’t want any incidents like the last time we were in Loose Boot.”

  “Lorry means well, if you ask me.” Dyphestive pulled a sheepskin vest over his shoulders. “I like him. Besides, shouldn’t heroes be treated this way?”

  “We’ll see. But we aren’t here to get a hero’s welcome. We need to move on. Soon. And I’m surprised you’re soaking it up the way you are.”

  Dyphestive palmed a morning muffin from a breakfast basket and put the entire thing in his mouth. “The way I see it, at this point in time, everyone who’s dead is alive. It’s reason to celebrate.”

  “We don’t know that for sure. There’s only one way to confirm it. We have to go home and find out for ourselves. Not everything is always as it seems.”

  “Who said that?” Dyphestive asked.

  “I did.” Grey Cloak opened up the door and headed into the hall. He’d stayed in a similar lodge with Anya in Loose Boot. The difference was this place had hundreds of rooms, not dozens. “Come on.”

  They moved downstairs to the main floor, passing many closed doors as they went. Typical of the lodge he’d been in before, this one had a grand dining hall with a huge buffet of hot, steamy food in the middle. Heads of everything from grizzly bears to elk decorated the walls. Wooden farm tables and long benches would seat hundreds of people, but Grey Cloak and Dyphestive were the only ones present.

  Dyphestive made a beeline for the buffet. He grabbed two plates and started shoveling every meat imaginable on them, accompanied by biscuits.

  Grey Cloak picked his way through the buffet. He’d become a bigger eater than he used to be, but his plate was half-full. He sat down at the long table across from his brother, who’d begun digging in.

  “Don’t you find this odd?” Grey Cloak started buttering his biscuit.

  Dyphestive picked up a gravy boat among the condiments on the table and emptied it over his biscuits and meat. “What do you mean?”

  “We’re the only ones eating. Look around. This place is huge, and there isn’t another soul around.”

  Oddly enough, Dyphestive appeared to keep one eye on his food while the other eye scanned the room. “So? Maybe they ate already.”

  Streak popped his head out of Grey Cloak’s hood. “Speaking of eating, how about a biscuit and a burnt hunk of flesh?”

  Grey Cloak fed him.

  “Thank you.” Streak buried himself back in the hood.

  “Don’t leave a crumb in there. You know how I hate crumbs in my hood.”

  “Duly noted,” Streak replied.

  Grey Cloak picked up a knife and fork and started into his sausage and eggs. He sawed a link in half as Lorry approached. The man’s hair was parted in the middle this time.

  “Hello, Lorry. I barely noticed you in the crowd.”

  “Ha ha, you are a witty elf. The Culpeppers will like that.” Lorry clasped his hands together and stood behind Dyphestive. “How is your food? Can I have the servants fetch you anything?”

  “Do you have any honey?” Dyphestive asked.

  A cute servant girl in a white apron rushed from somewhere inside the cupboard, set a jar of honey on the table, and vanished into the kitchen.

  With a sausage link on the end of his fork, Grey Cloak said, “That was weird.”

  Dyphestive craned his neck toward the buffet. “Where’d she go?”

  Grey Cloak pushed his plate back. “Lorry, what’s going on here? Where are all the people?”

  “When the Culpeppers learned you were coming, they vacated this lodge for you.”

  The blood brothers exchanged concerned glances.

  “Why would they do that?” Grey Cloak asked.

  “Because you are heroes. You slew White Ice.” Lorry smiled and swiped his hair from one side to the other. “And I have good news. The Culpeppers are ready to meet you.”

  “Great.” Grey Cloak dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “When?”

  Lorry replied, “This evening. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable. Our town is your town.”

  3

  With their bellies full, the blood brothers spent the day moseying through the township’s streets of hard-packed snow. Despite being strangers, the citizens were welcoming, offering smiles, greetings, and polite salutations. Horse-drawn sleds passed by, their sleigh bells jingling. Wood-burning fires blazed in metal urns on every block, where people with frosty breath could warm their hands and feet.

  “This is a nice place,” Dyphestive commented.

  He wiped the snowflakes from his ba
ngs and smiled at a group of young women gathered by an urn who looked his way. He waved. They giggled and whispered to one another.

  “It seems normal and pleasant to me.”

  “Well, don’t get too cozy,” Grey Cloak replied.

  Dyphestive shrugged. “Why not? So long as we’re here, we might as well enjoy it. Right?”

  “As much as I hate to say it, you should know better.”

  He nodded at the young women. Much the same as the rest of the township, many humans and several elves milled about. Included among them were dwarves and halflings. He’d even spotted a few orcs and lizardmen.

  “Something gnaws inside me. I think we would be wise to depart before we meet the Culpeppers.”

  “That wouldn’t be polite. They just want to thank us. Why would they have any problem with us, when we did them a favor? Perhaps they can help us.”

  “I see your point, but given our situation, it would be best if we lay low and move on.”

  Dyphestive taking the situation lightly disturbed Grey Cloak. He had the feeling that something wasn’t right with his brother. Dyphestive was too loose, no longer as brooding or loaded with concern. But Grey Cloak kept his concerns about his brother to himself the best he could. Perhaps the time travel did something to him. After all, it altered Streak’s size. It might have altered Dyphestive’s mind. He decided not to dwell on it.