The Immortal Mystic (Book 5) by Sam Ferguson Read Free Book Online

time to prepare the orcs to take over Ten Forts, then.”
    “That is my guess,” Mercer said.
    “Where is young Eddin Finorel? Have you sent him north for trial yet?” Lepkin asked.
    “Finorel is dead,” he said. “Someone gave him a length of rope. He hung himself. Had to work at it too, seeing as how he used the bars on his cell door to do it.”
    Lepkin tossed the notes onto the desk. “Well, I doubt his father, Lord Finorel will be pleased to hear that.”
    “Indeed,” Mercer said with a shrug. “However, I suppose he already knows, or will know shortly.”
    Lepkin folded his arms. “You suspect that someone found out he was caught and made sure to silence him then?”
    Mercer nodded. “Looks that way. I don’t know anyone with a strong enough will to hang themselves like that. Hanging from a cell door is awkward at best, and even if he had the angle right, it would be a very violent death. He would have had to pull his feet off the ground, and even then his knees likely would have supported him. Unless he was actively pushing against the door with his feet to put pressure on the noose, my guess is someone strangled him, then tied the rope to the cell door and fled.”
    “Where is the guard?” Lepkin pressed.
    Mercer snorted. “Nowhere to be seen. He simply vanished.”
    “So we have another spy to deal with.”
    Mercer nodded. “How is Marlin at finding spies?”
    Lepkin nodded. “It would take some doing. There are a lot of men in the forts, but if the rat is still here, Marlin can find him.”
    Mercer nodded and sighed. “Hop to it then. The both of you go with Marlin. Inspect each and every man here. Any who are false are to be hung from the ramparts for the orcs to see. They have given us a visual warning. Let’s return the gesture.”
    Lepkin turned to move, but Dimwater paused, staring at the note she held.
    “What is it?” Lepkin asked.
    Dimwater shrugged. “Gilifan, I think I have come across that name before.”
    “A wizard?” Mercer asked.
    Dimwater sighed. “I am not sure. It could be nothing, but if I remember then I will let you know.”
    “Come,” Lepkin said. “Let’s go and find Marlin.
     
    *****
     
    Maernok pulled the drinking horn up to his lips and let the amber liquid tumble over his gums and down his throat. He didn’t bother to savor the taste, he was not in the mood. When the horn was drained of the warm brew he tossed the empty vessel onto the small table before him.
    “More light,” he growled. The system of caves in the hills was perfect for housing the orc army. It was strong, hard to find, and only had two entrances, both of which were heavily guarded. Still, Maernok much preferred the open air and sunlight to the stale, damp atmosphere within the caves.
    An orc disappeared from the chamber only to return a moment later with two additional lanterns. He placed them at the edges of the table and then backed away.
    Maernok ran his fingers along the map before him. “Today was a shameful defeat,” he said.
    An old, but hardened orc by the name of Gerarn stepped out from the shadows. A scar creased his cheek and reached up into his left brow. The eye was white and dead. An old wound from a battle long ago. One of his tusks was broken, leaving a ragged stump. The orc was balding. What little hair he had left ringed his cranium with thin wisps of white. For all that, his muscles were large and thick. His arms appeared as though someone had shoved rocks into his skin. Veins snaked along the middle of the biceps, zig-zagging down to the elbows.
    “My clan did what they could,” he said unapologetically. “None of my warriors wavered. The fire did not stop them, and none ran from the dragon.” He then puffed up his chest a bit. “Beyond that, we have brought all of our goargs to aid in the battle. Most of them will arrive tonight, and you can put them and their keepers here in the hills until they are needed.”
    Maernok nodded. “The goargs will be a good