Omensent: Rise of the Shadow Dragons (31 page)

The young woman
held up her hand as Damion snorted in contempt, then pulled out a heavy pouch of gold. "I will give you one hundred silver pieces to leave us in peace." She offered to the man, who was still staring at Storm with greedily.

"And the stallion
," Ver demanded firmly. "or your shall go no further!"

"
It'll never happen." Damion told him in a flat voice. "I'd suggest you take her offer."

"You shall not pass without giving me that stallion as tribute!"

"How about a wager?" Veren asked suddenly. "We'll put the stallion up against our guaranteed safe passage up the escarpment. You and Damion can fight until there is a winner."

The man looked at Damion, who was slouched over in the saddle
, partially concealing his size, and quickly dismissed him as a threat. "Bare handed! No armor! No weapons! I'll beat this...
freak
senseless, and then take my horse when I finally tire of knocking him around!"

"Done!" The one eared man agreed. He looked to Damion with a smirk, which quickly faded away as he noticed
the young warrior's expression. "I figured it would the quickest route to dealing with this." He said defensively. "It's better than being forced to fight our way up the cliff side!"

Damion sighed, then slid from the saddle and slipped out of his mailed shirt. He handed the Dragon Sword to
Veren with a hard expression. "Guard this with you life!" He told him in a quiet voice. He then walked out into the open circle that was surrounded by the tribesmen.

Ver was obviously not prepared for what he s
aw as Damion strode towards him with determined eyes. The bully had never encountered another that could match him in size, let alone someone larger, and the warrior coming towards him not only stood nearly a foot taller, but was heavily muscled and wearing an expression that promised death.

"Oh my!" Raven murmured in admiration as Damion moved towards Ver
, his muscles rippling as he moved like a cat towards its prey.

The pot bellied
man strode out to meet his challenger, his eyes narrow and his lips curled back in a snarl, showing off his mouthful of rotten teeth.

They circled one another
, each sizing the other up before the tribesman suddenly lunged forward with surprising speed, throwing an overhand punch that he obviously thrown many times before to settle a dispute. Damion easily sidestepped the blow and tripped the snarling brute, sending him sprawling to the ground.

Several of the
tribesmen began to laugh uproariously, while several others began to shout encouragement to their leader.

Damion casual
ly backed away and let the man scramble back to his feet, then ducked two more wild swipes with little effort as the man began to roar in fury and frustration.

"Why isn't he trying to fight him?" Raven asked
Veren in confusion.

Veren
smiled. "I think Damion has decided to teach this man a lesson and humiliate him in front of his clan."

"Why would he do that?"

"He's fiercely protective of his warhorse, and well he should be." He told the young girl as they watched Damion easily avoid a clumsy lunge, sending Ver sprawling to the ground once more. "That ill tempered brute he rides was a gift from one of the clan chieftains of the horse people, the Deola. It's worth a king's fortune!" He winced as he watched as the tribesman went flying through the air to land in a dusty heap, much to the amusement of his own people, who were all laughing openly now. "Plus I have the feeling that 'freak' comment made him angry."

Ver staggered back to his feet
breathing heavily, then made one final rush, his arms held wide in a sad attempt to tackle Damion, who launched a foot forward, catching the tribesman hard in the pit of his stomach. The air whooshed out of the man's lungs, and his face turned an ugly shade of purple, then he emptied the contents of his stomach into the sand.

Damion spun behind him and launched another kick that landed with a crunch on the back of his
leg, sending him down to his knees.

"Damn freak!"
The man screamed in pain and frustration.

Damion's
face went flat as he whirled back to face Ver, his hand moving faster than the eye could follow as he back handed the man's rotten teeth down his throat. Ver dropped like a felled oak, landing hard on his back, his eyes rolling up in the back of his head and blood streaming from his mouth.

The tribe
smen who had been watching began to roar and cheer in approval as two of the shabbily dressed men ran forward and began to drag Ver's unconscious body away. The cheering gradually faded, and the crowd that had gathered quickly dispersed, returning to the business of tending to their daily tasks.

"That was magnificent!" Raven exclaimed
, her face flushed with excitement.

Damion shrugged. "It was nothing. I would have sooner died than allowed him to take Storm."
He returned to the prancing warhorse, and then paused to slip back into his armor and retrieve the Dragon Sword from Veren. He climbed back into his saddle and looked around. Except for a couple of stragglers who were watching with mild interest, the tribesmen had all moved on, leaving them to continue on their way freely. "I don't think that we should be bothered any further."

"Not after that display!" The dark haired woman exclaimed with a smile. "All these
Veirians really respect is brute strength! Ver was this clan's chief, meaning he was also the most powerful warrior of his people. When you defeated him, you defeated their very best! No one will stand in your way as long as you remain among this tribe!"

They continued through the crude village without further distraction until they reached on
e of the large ramps that led up the escarpment.

"We should seek shelter for the day."
Veren commented, gesturing to the shadow of the escarpment cast by the sun, which was slowly growing smaller as the sun grew higher in the sky. "Let's wait until the sun has set before we attempt to our way up."

"But where shall we stay?" Raven asked, her eyes doubtful. "It think I would rather chance the sun before I would take refuge in one of those flea infested huts!"

"How about that place?" Damion motioned to the only building in town that was constructed from stone instead of sand and dung. "Perhaps we can purchase rooms for the night."

They made their way over to the enormous stone building which had been built
directly against the cliff side. A large sign with a rather crude painting of a bunch of grapes had been erected outside, and a large livery had been constructed next door, ran by a rather peculiar fellow that looked somehow familiar to Damion.

"
That would be a Deolan warhorse!" The thin man in his mid-forties commented with a smile as he emerged from the stable. "Bred from my cousin Bativa's own private stable, if my eyes haven't failed me!"

"You have good eyes." Damion
commented, somewhat surprised to find one of the Deola so far away from his homeland. "Storm is indeed from Bativa's stables."

"I knew it!
" The man laughed a dry laugh. "I can spot one of my cousin's horses from a mile away! He always did breed the very best warhorses!" The man had the shaved head and intricate tattoos that were customary among his people.

Damion
slid from the saddle, and gave the man a curious look. "This desolate wasteland is the last place I expected to find one of the Deola. What are you doing so far from your homelands?"

"I left my home
in the grasslands many decades ago." The man told him, still gazing at Storm with appreciation. "I had a falling out with one of the council, and decided I had best try to find my fortune elsewhere. I took passage on a ship heading north and eventually found myself in this godforsaken land." He shrugged. "I married a local woman, and opened this inn and livery. My wife and daughters take care of the inn, while I tend the livery." He smiled. "I guess caring for horses is too deeply ingrained in my character."

"Do you have any rooms
available?" Veren asked in a tired voice.

The tattooed man nodded. "Of course
! My wife will take care of the arrangements. We also have a bath house that is quite useful when it comes to washing away this infernal sand!"

They thanked the man, then made their way inside. They were
immediately greeted by a short middle aged woman who led them to a set off well maintained rooms.

After a prolonged visit to the baths, they finally met in
the taproom feeling refreshed after washing away the grime from the road. The innkeeper's wife soon appeared with a large tray of food, followed by one of the daughters who carried several foaming tankards.

They were just finishing their meal when the innkeeper appeared
, carrying several more foaming tankards. "I thought I may join you for a drink!" He said, offering them each a tankard. "The name's Ole. You've already met my wife, Chelle." He gestured to the two serving girls who were busy tending to the growing crowd. "Those are my daughters, Syla and Seva."

"I'm
Veren." The one eared man nodded, accepting one of the tankards. "That's Damion, and the young lady is Raven."

"It's been a while since I've heard any news from home.
" Ole commented, sinking wearily into a chair. "How is my cousin faring?"

"He was well, last we spoke." Damion replied. "He was still trying to keep peace in the council."

The Deolan snorted in amusement. "I doubt that he'll have much luck. The council spends most of its time squabbling. If they didn't spend all of their time arguing, they wouldn't have anything to do!" He gave Damion a inquiring look. "How did you manage to get Bativa to part with one of his warhorses? He guards those beasts with his life!"

Damion smiled. "I helped him out a tight spot a few years back. He presented Storm to me as a gift as his way of saying thanks."

Ole let out a low whistle. "It must have been some favor! That warhorse would fetch a fortune here on this continent!"

Damion shook his head. "I could never sell him.
Besides," He smirked. "He's a little too aggressive for most people's taste, but he matches my personality perfectly."

"What news is there
from the east?" Veren asked, taking a long drink from his tankard.

The Deolan's face fell. "Much as it is to the west and to the south. There are reports of attacks on villages, and roaming packs of dragonspawn
that are attacking anything that moves!"

Damion and
Veren exchanged looks.

"There have been some wild stories being circulated." Ole continued. "People are afraid of what's happening. There have even been reports of dragons, if you can believe that!" He shook his head. "
I fear we are heading for dark times, my friends!"

"Is there any news of armies gathering?" Raven asked worriedly.

Ole shook his head. "Not that I've heard, but that doesn't mean much. The only people that travel this way are drug addled tribesmen and slavers, and
nobody
stops to exchange news with slavers!"

They chatted for several more minutes, then the tattooed man bid them goodnight.

"It sounds as if things are growing more serious." Raven murmured as they slowly made there way to their rooms. "The dragonspawn appear to be stepping up their attacks!"

"And the news of the shadow dragons seem to be spreading. It won't be long before the enti
re world knows of their return." Damion frowned. "Then everyone will be turning to
me
for answers."

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