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

and that was Maernok. Maernok was well known throughout all the tribes, and his offer to split the honor of conquering Ten Forts was enough to entice all of the clans.
    As the orcs continued to stare in disgust at the necromancer, Gilifan shrugged and moved to the table. “Oh, I suspect that Gerarn, chief of the Viper Clan, would have come even still. This battle is one that shall earn you a high place in Hammenfein. Not many orcs have dared the like.”
    “The council has work to do,” Maernok said sternly. “Have you come to assist, or do you simply enjoy wasting our time?”
    Gilifan smiled wryly and turned his head to regard Maernok for a moment. “Both, my dear Maernok.” He held his hands out wide to the side and addressed all of them. “They have a dragon, but he cannot remain in that form for long. Every moment he spends as a dragon shall warp his soul. Eventually he will be forced to fight as a human, or he will be overpowered by Nagar’s ancient magic and be under my control.”
    “So you would have us throw ourselves at the walls and draw the beast out?” Gerarn asked.
    Gilifan nodded. “I would.”
    “This is not a sound plan,” Serndar put in. “We suffered a major defeat from the dragon.”
    Gilifan held up a finger. “But, now you know to expect him. Furthermore I will fight alongside you.”
    Maernok looked up and a wry sneer curled his lips at the corners. “You would speed our victory?” he asked. “You do remember the terms of my debt?”
    Gilifan nodded. “Just remember you have to wait two days after Ten Forts falls.” He narrowed his right eye on Maernok for a moment and then looked back to the others. “I have a few tricks up my sleeve that can aid you.”
    “No magic,” Maernok was quick to throw in. “That is a dishonorable path to victory.”
    Gilifan chortled. “Victory is victory. How a battle is won is not important. All that matters is that it was won.”
    “I disagree,” Maernok said sternly.
    “And that is why you will never defeat me,” Gilifan concluded. “Now, as for what I have to offer, I believe even Maernok will approve.” He turned to the hallway and called out. “Gersimon, come in.”
    Gersimon strolled in proudly, a grand smile upon his face. He marched up to the table and unrolled a yellow parchment over the table. The orc chiefs stepped in for a closer look. “This is my battering ram. It is made of solid iron, with a steel cap over the ram itself.” He stepped back and waved his hand at the design. “It takes a team of twenty to move. It can destroy the gates.”
    Maernok snarled at Gersimon. “And how, may I ask, did the two of you meet?”
    Gersimon’s proud smile vanished and he fumbled with his fingers.
    Gilifan stepped in. “As you know, I was quite close with your predecessor, Chief Gariche,” Gilifan began.
    Maernok narrowed his eyes on the necromancer and growled low. “I am aware that you helped him murder my father and scheme his way to become the chief,” Maernok said. “I was also the one who found the two of you scheming together in Gersimon’s home when Gariche died suddenly.”
    Gilifan smiled and held Maernok’s gaze. “And then you became chief,” he said. “What a lovely turn of events for you. It seems everything has turned full circle, as it were.”
    Maernok clenched his fist and his body stiffened. “When did you two meet?” he pressed.
    Gulgarin stepped between them all. “This is getting us nowhere,” he said. “Let them present the idea for the ram. If it helps us conquer Ten Forts, then all is well.” The orc looked to the other two chieftains for support.
    Gerarn and Serndar voiced their agreement.
    Maernok bit his tongue and gestured for them to proceed.
    “As I was saying, the ram is made of solid iron and requires twenty people to move it.”
    “Solid iron?” Maernok echoed. “That would take a team of oxen to move. We’ll never get it close to the gates.”
    Gersimon shook his head. “Not