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    Song of Thunder
    Song of Thunder
    Song of Thunder
    Ebook205 pages2 hours

    Song of Thunder

    By Gareth Lewis

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    About this ebook

    Part of a war that's spanned history, the goblin scout Tuarth serves the Dark One as part of a small squad, whether he wants to or not. With no real home, or family but the squad, all he can do is keep his head down and try to survive, any kind of life outside war only a distant dream.

    After kidnapping a human princess, the squad have both sides chasing them, and Tuarth's dreams may soon be crushed.

    Song of Thunder is a short fantasy novel.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherGareth Lewis
    Release dateDec 1, 2015
    ISBN9781310669347
    Song of Thunder
    Author

    Gareth Lewis

    Gareth Lewis has written a number of novels and shorter works in a few genres, including fantasy, science fiction, and thrillers. A programmer, he has a degree in computer studies, and lives in South Wales.

    Read more from Gareth Lewis

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      Book preview

      Song of Thunder - Gareth Lewis

      Song of Thunder

      Gareth Lewis

      Smashwords Edition

      Copyright 2015 Gareth Lewis

      Smashwords Edition, 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 person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Any piracy of this work shall result in the forfeiture of the pirate's soul to the author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      Chapter 1

      Tuarth regarded the night-shrouded streets with more curiosity than anxiety, though he remained alert. The thick drizzle engulfing the city meant few humans were out at this hour, but even one paying too much attention would be enough.

      He and Wych both wore heavy cloaks with hoods pulled down, and their bodies more closely resembled humans than did the bulkier orcs of the squad. Tuarth was tall for a goblin, passing for a human while his features remained hidden.

      Wych was shorter, and it didn't help that he crouched as he skittered about. Tuarth hoped any curious eyes took him for a human youngling, and he'd have to ensure Wych's mischievousness didn't lead him too far astray from their mission.

      As long as Wych did nothing stupid, they shouldn't encounter problems. The kingdom of Velthen hadn't suffered incursions in recent times, certainly not in their capital. That was why the guards on the outer wall had been so lax. And why so many buildings were no longer contained by the outer wall. Security had grown complacent. The guards had barely registered surprise as their throats were slit.

      It was an odd, almost alien concept, the idea of not having to live constantly alert. Often alertness was only required because laxness was severely punished. Most humans he'd encountered - usually only briefly - had seemed similar. But that was on the front line of the war that'd raged most of the last millennium. Alertness there meant survival.

      Velthen would have sent troops, but were far enough from the front that its lands hadn't hosted any conflict in over a century. It was seldom the first country reached, its proximity to Rhondyth, the Forest of Shadows, discouraging large troop movements to the west. Even rumours the traitorous elves had finally been displaced from the forest by the humans made it no more appealing a passage.

      With hostilities having diminished to skirmishes since the humans struck against the Dark One's Throne a decade ago, their complacency was understandable. Certainly welcome. He didn't fancy sticking around in a hostile country that knew he was there.

      It meant little time to indulge his curiosity, even were he able to see much of the surrounding structures.

      There were rumours the humans all had their own buildings. That they wouldn't just be thrown out by someone stronger, the weaker forced to share the smallest spaces. At least as part of a squad he usually got the unwanted corner of a fairly warm and dry space. When they weren't in enemy territory.

      He was curious to see inside one of the buildings. A permanent place to call your own. He could barely imagine what it must be like, and felt almost sacrilegious trying to.

      Some buildings looked too fragile to possibly protect them from the elements. There must be less weather down here on the flatlands.

      Back in the mountains they had sturdy caves to protect them. When he had no choice but to use them. Tuarth wasn't fond of being underground, not that he was stupid enough as to admit that. As with most gobs, it wasn't till they were nearly ready to fight that they were brought to the surface to see the sky for the first time. Most cringed, trying to flee back to safety. He'd been transfixed, staring at the vastness above him until slapped back to reality.

      While he still enjoyed clear night skies more than most of his kind, he was grateful for their absence while infiltrating enemy territory.

      It would've offered something to navigate the streets by though. His distraction made him lose track of direction, and the surrounding buildings were tall enough to obscure the view.

      Certain he was headed in the right general direction, he continued until a gap between buildings revealed the inner walls surrounding the castle. The wall was taller than those of the outer defences, probably twice as high. And the rain would make them tricky to scale. They were still nothing compared to the mountains back home. Provided the guards were little more alert than those already dealt with, there should be no problem.

      As they got closer, the city's laxness made things easier. Some structures had been built up against the wall. Whether permitted or not, they leant against it, offering less to climb on the sheer defences.

      Wych scrambled up the side of a building, its rough stonework offering plenty of handholds. After checking they were unobserved, Tuarth secured the hood over the quiver at his belt and followed at a more cautious pace.

      While not as accomplished a climber as Wych, Tuarth was more agile than the orcs. Pulling himself onto the roof, he took a moment to be sure it wouldn't collapse under his weight. It supported Wych without complaint, and made little noise to alert anyone below. Tuarth stepped with care anyway.

      Wych had already started up the remainder of the castle wall as Tuarth reached it. Barely more than twenty feet of it remained to scale. The dampness made it slick, and in places it was worn sheer by age and the elements, but there were other areas where it'd crumbled away. He followed Wych with little trouble.

      The smaller goblin disappeared over the parapet before Tuarth was half way. Wych's gnarly hand appeared as Tuarth reached the top. He took it, though ensured his grip on the wall remained strong. He wasn't convinced Wych could take his weight, but knew the goblin wouldn't let himself be dragged over the edge if it proved too much. Tuarth found a fraction of a foot hold, enough to push him over the top.

      They crouched, taking in their surroundings. The body slouched against the wall a few feet away said Wych had been busy.

      Tuarth removed the hood from his quiver and pulled his bow from his shoulder as he scanned the visible parts of the parapet. There were a couple of other guards in sight, but they hadn't been alerted. He should be able to take them out without the bodies falling. The parapets were wide, with smaller walls on the inside.

      'Gate's over there,' said Wych, pointing to where the parapet grew thicker. One of the visible guards was nearby, on the far side.

      'Don't keep them waiting, then,' said Tuarth. Drawing a few arrows as Wych scrambled away, he glanced at the far guard before sighting his target. The arrow shoved the guard up against the outer parapet, dead before he could make a sound. He dropped behind the inner parapet wall.

      Tuarth glanced into the castle courtyard. No guards were visible. Anyone on duty would be out of the rain. His attention turned to his own task, watching the remaining visible guard. He'd have to be dropped as soon as the others entered the courtyard, but the longer Tuarth waited the less chance of the body being discovered and the alarm raised.

      The guard didn't move much anyway. If he'd found a dry position he'd probably stick with it. Humans seemed averse to being wet, from Tuarth's limited experience of them away from the battlefield. If they suffered the violent showers the mountains got he might understand it, but this stuff barely tickled.

      A muffled sound came from the gatehouse, but no alarm was raised. The guard didn't notice. Wych had had time to get in there, but had he opened the gate? And dealt with any guards? Assuming there weren't too many.

      That was one of the uncertain areas of the plan, or what he'd been told of it. Dallyn hadn't shared much, but the fact they were doing something like this so far in enemy territory said it must be important. And would probably lead to an escalation from the current skirmishes. They could soon be enmeshed in full-on war again, for the first time since Tuarth had been old enough to fight. Unlike the orcs, he didn't relish the prospect.

      Another noise caused the guard to glance back. Tuarth let the arrow fly. The guard dropped from view, still on the parapet. His fall brought no shout of alert, and further sounds from the gatehouse were muted.

      Tuarth glanced down into the courtyard. Still clear. Could they reach the main building by passageways inside the wall? He didn't know. Since neither would the others, Dallyn would lead them across the courtyard. It'd be exposed, but the longer they took the more likely their victims were to be discovered and the alarm raised.

      They soon emerged from the gatehouse, bulky forms under heavy cloaks making their way towards the main building. They reached it without alarm, and there was a muffled sound as they entered. Then nothing.

      Tuarth turned to making preparations, grabbing the rope from his belt. The guard had some kind of pole arm, almost half again as long as Tuarth.

      It looked more ceremonial than useful, but maybe someone bigger could use it without getting slaughtered. While tall for a goblin, Tuarth was lean rather than bulky. He could draw a bow a fair way, and accurately shoot it further than anyone he knew. But heavy melee weapons threw his balance.

      Turning the dead guard's arms so the pole crossed the gap in the parapet, Tuarth tied the rope to it and threw the end down the wall. He didn't look too closely at the man. Killing humans may be his duty, but he didn't enjoy it. Doing so at a distance was easier, not to mention safer, and he was accurate enough that they didn't suffer. He had nothing personal against them, despite what training and tradition had tried drumming into him.

      He'd hold position until the others returned to the gatehouse, then scarper. He should reach the main gate ahead of them. Assuming any of them got out alive.

      A scream from the castle shattered the mission's stealth, which hadn't been likely to last anyway. Further calls were slow to respond, and it was nearly a minute before the clash of steel echoed inside.

      A few armed figures emerged from the building. They milled a moment, but with the sounds now obviously behind them most returned inside. A couple headed for the gatehouse, likely intending to seal it.

      Tuarth killed them half way across the courtyard. It was exposed enough for anyone to see and think again about making the same journey.

      The sounds inside became a running battle, but didn't seem to slow the orcs. They emerged and ran for the gatehouse, one with a bundle over his shoulder. From the shoulders, that'd be Hyllach.

      Tuarth counted them. They were one short. Thyrdd, judging by the shapes. He'd been getting on in years and slowing down. Not as old as Llyro, of course, but Thyrdd lacked his wits for avoiding trouble. Considering the limited wits he had, the surprise was he'd survived this long.

      An orc fell with an arrow in his back. Tuarth spotted the archer in a window, drawing back his string for a second shot. Tuarth beat him to it, and the man fell from sight.

      Tuarth let a few more arrows fly at the guards swarming out of the building. Aiming wide to discourage immediate pursuit worked on most, but a couple didn't take the hint. He cut them down before they'd gone a few strides.

      He glanced at the fallen orc. Zorlach. Great. Now he'd be expected to do the cooking. Hopefully there wouldn't be much, as they carried rations to allow them to travel fast.

      The orcs reached the gatehouse without further casualties, and Tuarth turned from the pursuit. Fastening the hood over his quiver, he secured his bow and swung over the parapet.

      The descent was easier than the climb, taking only seconds. Landing on the rooftop, he sprinted down the side, moving fast in case it decided to collapse behind him.

      He didn't slow on approaching the edge of the roof, not sure he could on the wet surface. Instead he dropped and slid the last few feet and over the edge, where he grabbed the corner of the building to slow his descent.

      Reaching the ground, he retraced his steps as best he could. The streets grew more visible as lights came on in response to the noises. Only a few lights, but that'd change.

      Tuarth's hopes of getting by before anyone emerged were dashed as a door opened ahead. He ensured his hood was up, his face suitably obscured.

      The man who emerged wasn't armed, and looked confused and tired. 'What's the noise?'

      Fortunately Tuarth had a fair understanding of the human tongue. 'Fire,' he said without slowing.

      The man glanced about, but said nothing else before Tuarth was around the corner. Hopefully that'd confuse things long enough that the others didn't encounter resistance on their flight. And, more importantly, that neither did he.

      Coming into sight of the outer wall's main gate, Tuarth kept to the side of the street until he got close and recognised the figures lounging just far enough from the fire to be obscured. He spotted the larger of the two anyway. Durth approached the size, and the unkind would say density, of a small mountain range. While he moved ponderously, once he built up momentum in deed or thought it wasn't wise to get in his way. He was easy-going enough, and treated goblins little differently than he did other orcs - both were notably smaller than him.

      Llyro skulked more casually against the wall, having found a dry patch. His decades of surviving as a soldier no doubt came from his propensity for ending up with the less hazardous assignments. He smiled at Tuarth. His grizzled face made even a genuine smile appear shifty. Or it probably did, if he ever had a genuine smile. It was difficult to tell.

      It was as hard to tell whether he was orc, goblin, or somewhere between. His skin tone verging the greenish grey of the orc and the yellowish green of

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