Bregar Emerald's Champion

By david cozens

This tale is a fast moving action adventure with interwoven sub plots set in an ancient world of heroes and magic. The book has over 92,000 words contained in 33 action packed chapters.
The hero is Bregar a young adventurer with a price on his head who decides it might be safer to camp out in the wilderness for a few weeks to avoid any trouble with bounty hunters. However he's never far from trouble and a local wizard decides Bregar is just the man to rescue his daughter Emerald who's been kidnapped by orcs. But she's far from the normal damsel in distress.
Add in a clan of people threatened with extinction, scheming dwarves, a bloodthirsty ogre, angry orcs, goblins and other monsters, including a malevolent queen spider and a vengeful dragon, and the young warrior has his hands full.
Still Bregar never worries for long, with his lucky stone and sharp sword he can sort most things out. Especially with a bit of help from Emerald, and a few others such as the reluctant Weasel; the half orc runt, who's not what he seems.
Meanwhile Emerald's father sets out to defeat the demon possessed sorcerer who wants to use Emerald as bait to ensnare him, and he learns some valuable lessons on the journey when thing turn out different to what he might have expected.
Finally Baldric the renowned bard unwittingly adds to Bregar's problems by penning an ode of his heroic adventures. The trouble is, tales involving a dragon can cause unscrupulous thugs to ask unpleasant questions regarding the dragon horde. And with snake worshipping assassins also on his trail Bregar's adventures are far from over.

• Language: English
• Publisher: david cozens
• Release date: Feb 17, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311237378

david cozens

I'm an old timer and live in Norfolk uk with my wife Mandy. Norfolk is part of East Anglia and birthplace of the Iceni warrior queen Boadicea. In the Dark Ages, Guthrum the Viking warlord ruled this area and my name Cozens is a corruption of the word cousin, used to claim kinship of a person of note (or notoriety). So I guess for me to write about Bregar the warrior is a result of my genes harking back to a more violent age. I'm an avid table top war-gamer, I like to eyeball the enemy, and I'm a member of the Yellow Army (Norwich City Football) so my fighting spirit is still alive and well. Although quaffing ale and telling tales is more to my liking.

Book preview

Chapter 1 .…. Bregar encounters Weasel and searches for Emerald.

Chapter 2 ….. The pursuit to the spider pit.

Chapter 3 ….. Into Ravens Cleft. Emerald takes the Dragon Helmet and Sword.

Chapter 4 ….. Melsha the spider queen.

Chapter 5 ….. Iron Guts and the goblins.

Chapter 6 ….. Weasel escapes.

Chapter 7 ….. Gore Fist the ogre.

Chapter 8 ….. Garwyn the Green Wizard sets out.

Chapter 9 …... Garwyn and the assassins.

Chapter.10 …. Battle with the orcs.

Chapter 11 …. The Kelvyn. Bregar becomes Emerald’s Champion.

Chapter 12 …. The celebration feast and Selwyn’s saga.

Chapter 13 …. Iron Gut’s patrol and the monsters.

Chapter 14 …. Emerald learns of her heritage.

Chapter 15 …. The battle with Gore Fist.

Chapter 16 …. Garwyn meets Seth.

Chapter 17 …. Garwyn rescues Iron Guts.

Chapter 18 …. Garwyn’s first encounter with the sorcerer Rangort.

Chapter 19 …. The Companion’s quest begins.

Chapter 20 …. Honey helps the dwarf Lodin.

Chapter 21 …. The Anghelm Dwarves.

Chapter 22 …. The orc force gathers.

Chapter.23 …. The battle at the Dragon Fortress.

Chapter 24 …. Garwyn’s second encounter with Rangort.

Chapter 25 …. The Companions join the battle between the trolls and ogres.

Chapter 26 …. The mountain trek ends and the Hellgrebes attack.

Chapter 27 …. The land of Mist and Fire.

Chapter 28 …. Garwyn and the Golden Dragon.

Chapter 29 …. The dinosaurs attack.

Chapter 30 …. The fight with the giant scorpions.

Chapter 31 …. Bregar and Weasel in the volcano.

Chapter 32 …. The Companions fight with the Golden Dragon.

Chapter 33 …. The lizardmen attack. Bregar decides to tackle the Snake Worshippers.

Addendum

Author’s notes.

Details of characters and creatures.

Chapter 1

Bregar relaxed his grip on the throwing axe and stretched his fingers. Whatever had scared those woodcocks into flight earlier had given him an early warning that something was on the prowl. And grabbing his weapons he’d sprinted to the oak tree and climbed into his hiding place overlooking the camp site.

Normally he wouldn’t be so jumpy but his reason for camping in the wilderness was to avoid any unpleasantness with bounty hunters. Having such a large price on his head was attracting some dangerous characters. However their interest wouldn’t last much longer, the travelling merchant offering the reward would eventually finish his business and move on, and with no one to pay them, the bounty hunters would look for business elsewhere. He gave a wry smile, it hadn’t been a good idea to offer that ruby necklace to a merchant he didn’t know, and the fact that it belonged to the man’s mistress was just bad luck.

His mouth began to water at the sight of his supper roasting by the fire. Like most fighting men he was comfortable with waiting but if the waiting went on much longer that rabbit would soon start to burn.

He listened quietly, the crickets had started buzzing again but the evening songbirds were still silent. Something was out there unhurried and stealthy.

Then, in the gathering gloom, a slight movement close to the fire caught his eye. It wouldn’t be a forest creature he reasoned, they’d be afraid of the flames. It had to be bounty hunters!

Suddenly, a small scrawny orc broke cover; it scurried across the clearing and crouched by the rabbit. The fire reflected in its yellow eyes as it glanced about nervously.

Orcs never travelled alone, thought Bregar, it was obviously the runt of the pack sent out as bait, and it hasn’t looked in my direction so they’re not sure if I’m still here. That’s a definite advantage.

He relaxed slightly; fighting orcs would be less dangerous than tackling bounty hunters and if he sorted them out quickly the rabbit might still be edible. However having dead orcs lying around the campsite didn’t fill him with much enthusiasm.

The aroma of the cooking rabbit filled the orc’s nostrils, its empty stomach churned and its mouth slavered. It was more than the pathetic creature could stand. Hunger overcame fear and it snatched up the rabbit.

The sight of the runt gobbling up the rabbit enraged the rest of the pack and they charged out of hiding towards the wretch yelling and growling in anger.

There were eight of them, armed with a motley collection of swords and clubs and no armour or shields; it was a raiding party travelling light.

Bregar leapt down and ran towards the squabbling pack, a shock attack always worked wonders against an unprepared enemy and he was spitting mad at losing his rabbit supper.

Without breaking stride he hurled his throwing axe at one of the ugly brutes hitting the creature squarely between the shoulder blades. Then with the first swing of his broad sword he sent the head of a second orc bouncing across the clearing.

Charging through the mob he leapt at the startled leader and hacked him to the ground.

The pack’s growls turned to screams, there was a killer amongst them and they clawed at each other in panic to escape.

Bregar had other ideas; he hated orcs, especially orcs that had taken his supper. Lashing out left and right his great sword slashed them down, it was crude, quick and deadly, and he was determined that none of them would escape.

Finally, the runt was the only orc still alive. He lay shaking on the ground trapped under the dead Pack Leader’s body.

You! Snarled Bregar in orc tongue, you ate my supper!

No! It squealed in terror, I can help you, we have a woman captive.

Bregar put his sword point under the runt’s throat, I don’t take orc prisoners!

We were ordered to fetch her, she has great value and we thought you were following us the orc whined. It felt a glimmer of hope, the human hadn’t lashed out, and its eyes narrowed into a crafty look. I must keep talking, it thought.

A trade, I’ll tell you where the female is and then I go, I’m too small to hurt a brave fighter like you.

Bregar knew by the look on the runt’s face that it couldn’t be trusted. But what if there was a woman out there who needed help? If I terrify it some more it might blurt out the truth rather than weave some crafty lie, he reasoned.

Orcs don’t take orders and orcs don’t take prisoners, yelled Bregar. You ate my supper and you’re beginning to look tasty to me. I think I’ll eat an arm tonight and maybe a leg tomorrow, I like my meat fresh.

But humans don’t eat orcs, the runt squeaked unconvincingly.

Look around you, replied Bregar, how many humans could do this to a pack of orcs, and how many humans speak orc tongue?

The runt looked up at the huge creature towering over him splattered in orc blood and Bregar seemed more like a demon than a man.

Please, please don’t eat me, snivelled the orc I’ll show you where the female is.

How far is it and how many more of your pack are guarding her? Snarled Bregar.

There are six more, half a league away. I’ll help you; I hate the pack they always hurt me. I’m glad they die, you trust me, you see.

Okay, okay, growled Bregar grabbing hold of the runt, I’m putting you on a leash and if you play me false. . .

The orc cringed there was no need to finish the threat.

Picking up his backpack Bregar pulled out a short coil of twine made with plaited bowstrings. It was as strong as rope but lighter and less bulky. It was the most useful of the items that he carried and it now made an ideal leash.

Bregar was well practised at climbing over wealthy merchant’s rooftops by moonlight, but travelling through the woods at dusk with an orc on a leash was a different matter. The orcs night vision would give them an advantage in the twilight gloom. But tonight there would be a full moon and it would be better to wait for the brighter light he decided.

Gathering his things together he bundling them up in his cloak and wedged them in the branches of the oak tree. Every scavenger for miles around would already be picking up the smell of the dead orcs and the fire wouldn’t put some of them off.

When the moon was up it cast a ghostly light down through the trees, a hunter’s-moon, thought Bregar, time to go.

Running at a fast jog with his sword in one hand and the leash twined around his other wrist, Bregar made sure the orc kept pace with him.

After a short distance the runt slowed and stopped. They’re camped in the clearing through there, he pointed towards a ruined enclosure of jagged rocks that stood broken and gaunt in the moonlight.

Thrusting up from the centre of the rocks was a storm blasted tree, its twisted branches were caught in the flickering light of a campfire and seemed to reach out like the grasping talons of some malevolent tree creature.

The ground surrounding the rocks had a sparse covering of scrubby thorn bushes as if vegetation was reluctant to grow near to the foreboding place.

Bregar shuddered, if you could overcome the sense of evil it made an ideal place to hide, even the Great Wood creatures would give it a wide berth.

Orcs were generally too lazy to keep a proper lookout and they would be expecting the rest of the pack’s return; best to be bold he reasoned.

The orc whimpered in fright as Bregar shortened the leash and thrust him towards the rocks.

The runt began to tremble, he was expecting something to happen, but there were no spears thrown at them and there were no charging screaming orcs. In fact it was too quiet; there was no murmur of voices, nor any squabbling or laughing from a camp of orcs.

But whatever or whoever was waiting here Bregar knew he would have to tackle it, even if there was no female prisoner to rescue he would be tracked down and ambushed again.

Working their way around the rocks Bregar saw a clearing through the entrance. There were bits and pieces of rubbish and equipment scattered on the ground, it was a small camp left in a hurry.

No point in remaining cautious, reasoned Bregar, they either know I’m here or they’ve fled, and taking a deep breath he strode through the rocks and into the clearing dragging the reluctant runt with him.

Bregar looked about angry and confused at the deserted camp there were no orcs and no prisoner.

I swear she was here, whined the runt, she was tied up over there, he pointed to a half rotten log to one side of the clearing.

Bregar pulled him over to the log. He could see tracks leading off to the entrance but the rest of the marks on the ground were just a jumble.

They must have heard you killing the others, said the orc.

Bregar was puzzled; this wasn’t normal behaviour for a group of orcs. A few screams from the ambush party wouldn’t bother them; this brooding evil place must have spooked them.

You’ll never find them in the Great Wood in the dark, said the runt pointing up at the sky where a scattering of clouds were beginning to blot out the stars. Following their tracks in the morning will be too slow, you’ll never catch them! But I know where they’re going. He added slyly.

Bregar sighed, he had camped out in the wilderness for some peace and quiet, he’d had enough excitement just lately. However if there was a woman in danger and if she was important then rescuing her might also solve some of his problems.

He looked at the runt; there was more to this than he was saying, time to scare a bit more truth out of him; I can’t be bothered to go chasing after some worthless female its supper time and you’re it, he goaded.

No, squealed the orc, She’s valuable, called Emerald, daughter of the Green Wizard who lives in the Great Hall at Langfell lake.

Bregar went icy cold. Wizards were dangerous and this one had a very bad reputation. According to popular rumour his Hall was stuffed with priceless artefacts and several stupid rogues had disappeared after setting out to relieve him of a few pieces. How could a band of orcs kidnap his daughter, and why would they be crazy enough to do such a thing?

The runt sensed the change in Bregar and his eyes narrowed, this might work out well, and there were all sorts of possibilities for a clever orc. The warlock called Rangort ordered her capture, he added.

Lie! Snarled Bregar, Rangort has been dead for over one hundred years, slain by the White Wizard Athelstan in the old dwarven Hold Ravens Cleft.

Not slain, imprisoned, answered the orc and then began to blurt out his tale eager to please Bregar.

"The White Wizard’s magic threw Rangort into the abyss in the deepest part of the hold and a great fall of rock sealed it off. The wizard set magic wards in place so if Rangort didn’t die he couldn’t escape.

Then the Green goblins moved into the hold and their shamen sense magic. Rangort spoke to them and gave them many secrets so they could take control of other tribes. But he’s still imprisoned by magic wards and thinks he can force the Green Wizard to free him.

He sent us.orcs and a goblin with a special trunk containing a valuable book and some mouldy old furs, the goblin said the gifts were from the goblin shamen who have great respect for the Green Wizard.

Rangort knew the wizard would only have eyes for the book and ignore the furs. But the trunk was enchanted and made the wizard careless and he didn’t notice me hiding under the furs. He accepted the gifts and when the others left he shut himself away to study the book. I waited until dark and lowered a rope to the others, they bashed the female on the head to keep her quiet and we left all nice and easy," the runt giggled.

Bregar was impressed, wizards set all kinds of traps to protect their possessions but it would seem the Green Wizard’s daughter could move about or be taken undetected.

Langfell is a couple of days march from here, how fit is this female? Knowing the way you orcs travel I’m surprised she still alive.

The orc nodded, this female is in her prime, about twenty summers old, but humans are weak so we also stole her good boots and a sack of human food just as Rangort ordered.

As the orc talked something caught Bregar’s eye, half hidden amongst the orc’s debris was a small ring with a bright emerald stone. Bregar picked it up, was it his imagination or was there an eye staring back at him from the stone? He was mesmerised! It seemed to grow larger and larger! It filled his vision, it filled his mind!

So! Boomed a voice; you’re the one leading this band of foul creatures. Harm my daughter and I will strike you down with the vilest of deaths!

Bregar was startled but managed to keep his wits about him, No you’ve got it all wrong I found the ring, I’m trying to rescue her.

The enraged Green Wizard plunged into Bregar’s mind searching for the truth. So that treacherous black heart Rangort is alive and has my daughter!

Not yet, grimaced Bregar, the orcs have her captive in the Great Wood, there’s still time to catch them before they reach Ravens Cleft.

I hope so for your sake Bregar, said the voice, bring her to me and you may name your reward, fail me and there will be no escape.

Bregar went ridged with pain; every nerve in his body seemed to be on fire. Then it was gone, he looked at the ring, and the eye had disappeared!

He felt limp, cold and clammy. He looked at the orc and the runt stared back witless, so this was what had caused the rest of the band to flee.

Why me? Groaned Bregar, Bounty Hunters and now a wizard, how much can one man take.

The orc looked confused as Bregar scowled at him. I’m not stumbling around in this wood in the dark. I’ve had enough for one day and you’d better sit still while I think things through, added Bregar.

It wouldn’t be safe to go back to the campsite and as much as he hated the feel of these ruins it was probably the best place to spend the night. The girl would slow the orcs, they couldn’t risk killing her with their normal fast pace, but he’d never find the way to the old mine tunnels quickly enough to rescue her without the help of the small orc.

What’s your name? Asked Bregar as he tied the orc to the tree.

The runt looked at him suspiciously, Weasel, he replied, Weasels are clever and good hunters, he added.

Bregar studied him; he was small for an orc and more sharply featured probably some sort of half-breed. With his brown leathery skin he looked a bit like a weasel and he was cunning enough.

Do you understand human tongue? Asked Bregar.

A little, answered the orc.

Bregar sighed with relief he hated speaking orc it was such a brutal tongue.

Well Weasel we’re going to spend the night here and you better pray that the scavengers gnawing at your pal’s bones at the other campsite don’t like the look of this place. They’re bound to follow our tracks and I don’t think I could fight them off and defend you at the same time.

So just to be on the safe side Bregar blocked the entrance with a couple of thorn bushes and stoked up the fire before settling down.

Chapter 2

It was a long and uncomfortable night as creatures roared and snuffled about in the woods nearby but nothing attempted to break through Bregar’s makeshift barrier.

By dawn everything had quietened down and as Bregar lead the runt back to the campsite the dawn chorus started in full song and a light mist clung to the ground, it was good to be alive and it promised to be a good day for hunting.

He looked at the resentful creature and thought about the events of the previous evening. The girl would have to be rescued, not because of her father’s threats, such things didn’t trouble Bregar for long, and not for the promised reward, welcome as it might be. No, Bregar wouldn’t abandon anyone to a bunch of orcs and he was in no doubt that he could catch them, with the girl to slow them down they couldn’t be too far away.

When they reached the campsite they could see the bloody body of an orc lying in the bushes to one side of the clearing but there were no other remains even the weapons had disappeared. There was no telling what foul creatures roamed the woods at night.

Bregar checked the oak tree and found his pack still secure.

Weasel was hungry and looked hopeful as Bregar pulled out some bread and cheese.

Just checking, said Bregar; I need to clean up before breakfast.

The runt sneered, he felt cocky, Bregar needed his help to find the girl, you’re wasting time human, there’s no one here to see you, if we catch the others you’ll soon be covered in blood again.

Bregar ignored the remark and using the leash he tied Weasel’s hands and feet. If you’re lucky I’ll be back before something else comes seeking your dead friend over there, he teased the runt.

A small brook splashed its way through the limestone close to the clearing and Bregar saw his reflection in one of the rock pools as he filled his water skin. Blonde hair and pale blue eyes, a little over six feet tall and well-muscled, his ready smile and easy talk could charm most damsels. Rescuing the Green Wizard’s daughter might offer more than one reward thought Bregar, with a glint in his eye.

He had packed a lot of living into his twenty-five summers and his skill with a sword and throwing axe had earned him a good living. But his love of adventure and easy way with other people’s possessions had brought him a lot of trouble.

He set about scrubbing the remains of the orc gore from tunic, he’d cleaned the worst off last night after taking care of his weapons but it had been too dark to do a proper job. You couldn’t go on a rescue mission looking like an orc; good standards had to be maintained he mused.

Weasel waited until Bregar was out of sight before trying to wriggle loose but the twine was too secure and cut into his skin.

It’s no use, he thought, I need a knife.

Looking up he could see Bregar’s pack in the tree. He smiled, it might contain a knife and the human had been careless in putting it back, there was a good chance it could be dislodged with a stick.

The thicket containing the remains of one of the dead orcs looked to have some suitable branches and Weasel rolled himself across and into one of the bushes. He pushed and heaved trying to snap a useful piece off but the branches just bent and sprung back. No matter how hard he tried nothing would break and he lay back in frustration close to the bloody remains of the dead orc. He kicked the body in spiteful anger and it flopped over, he couldn’t believe his luck, there was a knife tucked into the orc’s belt.

Ignoring the gore he worked himself into a position where he could reach the knife and it slid out with ease.

However his sense of triumph didn’t last long, he could hear Bregar coming back. With no time to lose he rolled back across the clearing and lay still, hiding the knife under him.

Bregar retrieved his pack and untied Weasel’s hands. Weasel waited until Bregar wasn’t looking and hid the knife in his jacket, he knew he wasn’t quick enough to fight the human on his own.

Breakfast didn’t last long; there wasn’t much to share between them.

Still there’s always the Amber Nectar thought Bregar. He pulled the small flask from the pack. It was liquid fuel, it couldn’t fill your belly but a small sip would fire up the body’s energy, drink too much and you could burn yourself out.

Karmachet the dwarf who brewed the stuff certainly knew his job. The grasping old devil also knew how to charge it cost a fortune.

Bregar took a sip and immediately felt the warmth flowing through him. Another drop later in the morning and they would only need to stop for water, he thought. The runt would be okay, orcs could run most of the day on next to nothing.

Standing in the clearing and looking north he could see the snow covered Twin Peaks of the Saddlebow glistering in the early morning sunlight, and dominating the Blue Mountains in the far distance. He thought of the girl being driven on by the orcs. There was a long hard run ahead and a wide area to cover, but with the runt’s enforced help they should catch up some time after mid-day.

He strapped his broadsword to his back and tossed his cloak and backpack into the oak tree; he would have to travel light. A knife, the amber nectar, and a small pouch for his needle and thread; useful for sewing wounds, and a couple of silver dollars, that was it, he was ready to go.

They set off with the runt back on his leash, just like a huntsman with his hound thought Bregar.

As they ran along Weasel kept glancing darkly at Bregar plotting and scheming a way to escape.

The Great Wood was old but open and the canopy of the big trees kept the ground cover to a minimum. They skirted around the occasional outcrop of rocks, and as they followed the twists and turns of game trails Bregar could see they were still heading north by the shafts of sunlight that pierced down through the trees.

Most of the streams and small rivers that they had to cross were either narrow enough to jump or shallow enough to splash through without breaking stride, and at some of the watering places they made a short stop to drink and dip their heads into the cool water.

A few of the steep hills had the runt panting hard but Bregar kept the pace going.

Occasional Woodcocks and Turkeys flapped noisily from their path and deer bobbed off amongst the trees. A lone bear sat back on its haunches and watched in puzzlement as they raced by.

They ran through a clearing where Bregar could see that the small group of orcs moving in the same direction ahead of them had trampled down the carpet of woodland plants. The runt seemed to be keeping his word and they were getting close.

The shade of the woodland canopy stopped the temperature rising too high but it was still a hot day and Bregar kept thinking of the girl, she must be near to exhaustion.

By mid-day they could see the vast area of the Saddlebow foothills around the great mountain and Bregar realised again that without the runt he would be unlikely to find the entrance to the Ravens Cleft mines in time for a rescue.

With these troubled thoughts on his mind for Bregar’s concentration had begun to wander and he was almost caught unawares when Weasel skidded to a stop. Bregar’s quick reflexes brought him to halt a couple of paces beyond the runt, and it was only his roof climbing skills and superb balance that saved him from tumbling over the edge of a precipice.

Weasel grunted in disappointment and quickly hid the knife he’d taken from the dead orc. He hated being on the leash and had been biding his time to cut himself free.

Not noticing the knife Bregar gave Weasel a puzzled look. "What was that about? If I’d fallen down there this leash would have dragged you with me.

Didn’t mean to, mumbled Weasel, forgot.

The stupidity of the remark made Bregar laugh and he looked around in amazement. The scene before him filled Bregar’s senses and he just stood there taking it all in. It looked incredible, the ground fell away at his feet and they stood on the edge of a vast rift gouged out of the rocky ground with a river sparkling in the sun-light far below them. The opposite wall of the rift seemed almost a mile away stretching out into the distance on either side with the afternoon sun picking out the blue and purple layers of the rock face, streaked with the green of scrubby vegetation.

It was the legendary Trench of Seth said to have been scooped out of the ground by the Earth God Seth who then flung the rocks into the distance creating the Blue Mountains.

Beyond the rift were the foothills of the Saddlebow, and their upper reaches were caught with the wisps of clouds that now covered the twin peaks of the majestic mountain. The other peaks of the Blue Mountains looked small in comparison but drifts of snow lay in the shadows of their crags even though it was early summer.

Finally Bregar