The Fall of Dorkhun by D. A. Adams Read Free Book Online

Sondious told his assistant to push him back to the table. Though the king had called for a truce, he didn’t believe the ogres would honor it, so he wanted to finish his plans to defend the destroyed tunnel. Kraganere looked at him as he picked up a map.
    “The war is over,” the king said, his tone low and serious.
    “Of course, but just in case they don’t accept your terms, I think we should be prepared.”
    “Am I or am I not your king?”
    Master Sondious looked up from the map and made eye contact with his old friend. Master Sondious wanted to remind the king that he had been the one who had tried to avoid war, that he had been the one who had gone to the ogres with an offer of peace before the fighting had begun. He wanted to remind the king that Kraganere’s own irrational grief for his son had brought this about. Instead, he dropped the map onto the table and smiled.
    “My friend, you’re right. Roskin is safe. We’ve no need to keep fighting.”
    The king nodded his approval and rose from his seat. Then, he strode from the room without a word. Master Sondious watched him go, thinking to himself the king had proven more than once that when his emotions were stirred, he was not a competent ruler. Then, he reached down and picked up the map. Truce or not, the Kiredurks would be prepared to keep the ogres from resuming the tunnel.

Chapter 4
    To Protect His Family
    Leinjar kissed his oldest son on the forehead and tucked the wool blanket under his chin. The boy was already asleep, his bottom lip sucking in under his tongue as he did every night. Leinjar lingered there for a few heartbeats, then stepped over to the baby’s crib and stared down at him. He was scared to touch the baby because he was such a light sleeper and difficult to get back to sleep, so Leinjar contented himself with gazing into the face that could be his own. The baby rolled onto his side and stretched his legs but didn’t wake, so Leinjar crept away, smiling.
    In the master bedroom, his wife was already asleep, her back to his empty spot. This was the third night in a row that he had stayed late at the barracks, preparing for an impending orc attack. The farmers on the surface had fled underground four days earlier, spreading news of a massive force marching to the gate, and as first sergeant, Leinjar was responsible for preparations. Still, his wife wasn’t happy he had barely been home. For a moment, he thought about waking her to talk, but she had been chasing the children all day and wouldn’t appreciate the interruption to her much needed rest.
    He unbuckled his chest plate and lifted it over his head. After placing it on the dresser, he removed the vambrace on his forearms and set them to the right of the plate. Then, he unclipped his beard piece and laid it on the left. As a sergeant, his clip was silver, fashioned into a halberd. In Tredjard society, beard pieces signify social status, and while his was not as ornate as the captain’s, he had worked hard to earn it. As he reached to unbuckle his pants belt, the barracks’ alarm sounded, loud and imposing in the still of night. From his crib, the baby started crying.
    “Lorshia, wake up,” Leinjar called, grabbing his beard clip.
    “Are you home?”
    “The alarm,” he returned, unsure what else to say.
    “It’s probably another false one,” she said, but the fear in her eyes showed that she didn’t believe it.
    “Take the children to the shelter.”
    She climbed from bed and reached for her clothes, and for a moment, Leinjar looked at the thin sheen of sweat on her caramel skin. He wanted to hug and kiss and tell how much he loved her, but there wasn’t time.
    “Please, get them out of here,” he said, his voice sharper than intended.
    She ran to the children’s room and lifted the baby from his crib and then roused the oldest.
    “I’ll come for you when the battle is over,” Leinjar offered as he tightened the straps on his vambrace.
    “Okay,” she said,