Silent Gray Depths

By Kenneth McDonald

Still learning to cope with a crippling injury, Mara Lendoran has given up the life of a mercenary for a new career as a merchant trader. But the ways of her past life refuse to be left behind as she and the hauflin Feldergrass cousins bring their first cargo to the dwarven city of Delverhame. Mara and her friends only want to sell their goods and make a decent profit, but they find themselves dragged unwittingly into a conspiracy within the dwarven city, one that could end up making their first trading venture their last.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kenneth McDonald
• Release date: Oct 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781370676644

Kenneth McDonald

I am a retired education consultant who worked for state government in the area of curriculum. I have also taught American and world history at a number of colleges and universities in California, Georgia, and South Carolina. I started writing fiction in graduate school and never stopped. In 2010 I self-published the novella "The Labyrinth," which has had over 100,000 downloads. Since then, I have published more than fifty fantasy and science fiction books on Smashwords. My doctorate is in European history, and I live with my wife in northern California.

Book preview

Silent Gray Depths

Book Seven of The Colors of Fate

Kenneth McDonald

[e-mail]

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2019 by Kenneth McDonald

Cover Credit: The cover image is adapted from the painting The Spirit of War by Jasper Cropsey (1851). The image is in the public domain.

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Works by Kenneth McDonald

The Ogre at the Crossroads

The Graves Crew

The Graves Crew and the Restless Dead

The Graves Crew and the Damned Dam

The Graves Crew and the Firestar Amulet

The Graves Crew and the Road of Doom

The Graves Crew and the Magical Forest

The Graves Crew and the Mountain Fortress

The Adventures of the Graves Crew, Volume 1 (omnibus paperback edition)

The Adventures of the Graves Crew, Volume 2 (omnibus paperback edition)

Refugees of the Crucible

Powerless

Overpowered

Balance of Power

Soul Weapons

Wizard’s Shield

Soul of the Sword

Wizard’s Stone

Tales of the Soul Weapons

The Dwarf on the Mountain

Legends of the Soul Weapons, Volume 1 (omnibus paperback edition)

Legends of the Soul Weapons, Volume 2 (omnibus paperback edition)

The Colors of Fate

Black Shadows Gather

Green Hearts Weep

Red Vengeance Rising

Faded Yellow Dreams

Blazing White Stars

Shiny Golden Schemes

Silent Gray Depths

The Colors of Fate, Volume 1 (omnibus paperback edition)

The Colors of Fate, Volume 2 (omnibus paperback edition)

The Mages of Sacreth

The Labyrinth

Of Spells and Demons

Grimm’s War

Grimm’s Loss

Grimm’s Love

Of Blood and Magic

Of Steel and Sorcery

The Godswar Trilogy

Paths of the Chosen

Choice of the Fallen

Fall of Creation

Daran’s Journey

Heart of a Hero

Soul of a Coward

Will of a Warrior

Courage of a Champion

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Chapter 1

A lone raptor flew high above a broad expanse of sparse hills, drifting on invisible currents of air. The only thing that moved below it was a solitary wagon drawn by a team of two draft horses. From the bird’s perspective, the road that the wagon followed was like a winding snake, weaving its way through the uneven terrain.

A figure riding in the bed of the wagon hopped up over the precarious stacks of tied-down casks, barrels, and crates to lean over the seat and point up into the air. Look, a bird! He thrust himself next to the driver and pointed into the sky. Do you see, Mara?

The driver was a young woman who clutched the reins tightly in her left hand. There was something wrong with the other, resting in her lap; it was smaller than it should have been, partially concealed within a custom-made glove. Her face was all lean lines, weathered by long days on the road, her short hair a wild, wind-swept halo around her features. Her eyes flicked up to register the hawk high above. I see it, Beetle, the woman said.

Beetle turned to the other figure seated next to Mara. Both of them looked like children at first glance, but they were hauflin, members of a diminutive race who barely rose to the hip of an adult human even when fully grown. Do you see it, Jayse?

The other hauflin nodded and smiled. With the two of them close together, the family resemblance was obvious. His name wasn’t Jayse, but Jaron. It was an old joke between them, calling him by his brother’s name. The pain from Jayse’s death had faded long ago, and Jaron had long since stopped trying to correct his cousin.

All three of them wore the dirt of a long journey already behind them. The road was only infrequently traveled, and the wagon frequently jolted and bounced on the many bumps, but Beetle had no difficulty maintaining his perch atop the uneven mound of cargo, even as he continued to stare up into the sky. I wish I could fly, he said.

Colors help us, Mara said quietly.

This journey would be a lot easier if we could travel his way, Jaron said, nodding in the direction of the bird. He ran his hands along the shaft of an unstrung bow he carried in his lap, his eyes never stopping long as he scanned the road ahead and the surrounding hills. Mara adjusted the reins, tucking them under her arm as she shifted her grip. The maneuver revealed that her other hand was in fact disfigured, missing most of the fingers. It also highlighted the sword that was propped up against the seat beside her. It started to slide away, but she reflexively caught it and tucked it back into place against her leg.

How much looooonger? Beetle asked.

Jaron looked over at Mara. A couple of days I’d say, from Elevaren’s map.

This is so boooring, Beetle said. When’s lunch?

We only just had breakfast a little while ago, Jaron said.

I want to see the dwarf city, Beetle said.

We’ll be there soon enough, Jaron said. I’m sure Gral will be happy to show you around.

I bet the dwarfs have a bunch of cool stuff, Beetle said, his eyes gleaming in anticipation.

Beetle, why don’t you double check to make sure everything’s tied down tight? Mara said quickly.

I did that already, Beetle said, but he got up and went back into the wagon, again leaping carelessly atop the cargo instead of carefully making his way through the maze of rope, wood, and canvas.

‘Cool stuff,’ Mara said quietly.

He’s just having a bit of fun with you, Jaron said. He’s gotten a lot better since we’ve been in Albestin. Ironically, I think the time he’s spent with the Brotherhood has helped calm him down somewhat.

Or maybe he’s just gotten better at stealing, so we don’t catch him doing it as much.

Jaron didn’t immediately respond, so after a moment Mara looked over at him. Sorry, Jaron. I know he’s your cousin and you care about him. He’s saved our lives more than once, and he’s a good guy to have at your back if there’s trouble. Even if he got us into it in the first place, she added under her breath.

Yeah, he said.

I’m glad you both are here, she said earnestly.

Well, I was feeling a bit stir-crazy after that long winter in Albestin, Jaron said. Missed the fresh air, the open road.

Sleeping in the mud, eating stale provisions, fighting to keep the bloody wagon running and the horses healthy, Mara said.

I bet Carzen’s jealous, Jaron said.

Yeah. But one of us had to stay, and he’s the one that’s comfortable moving in the circles of society.

It could have been worse, Jaron said. He could have accepted Lord Sarev’s offer to sit on the city council.

Mara looked thoughtful. If he’d made that decision, she would almost certainly still be in Albestin, wearing dresses and attending society events, enjoying the finest that the city had to offer instead of struggling to succeed with a new business.

Just the thought of it made her shudder.

He glanced over at her again. Miss him?

She nodded, then grinned. You tell him, I’ll deny it.

Beetle suddenly reappeared, a loose piece of rope twisting in his hands. Are you and Carzen going to get married? he asked.

Mara’s face flushed suddenly. Ah… she said. She looked over at Jaron as if seeking his aid. Beetle was technically an adult, but he was special, and she never could tell just how much he understood about the way that the world worked.

Jaron laughed. For now, they’re just good friends, Beetle. Come on, let’s… he began, reaching for the back of the seat, but he stopped when he saw the expression on his cousin’s face change.

Mara couldn’t see Beetle’s face, but she sensed the sudden change as well. What is it? she asked.

Trouble, Beetle said. He dropped back behind the seat, falling out of sight.

Mara and Jaron scanned the road ahead. The current stretch wasn’t as rugged as some of the terrain they’d navigated over the last few days, but there were plenty of rocks and scattered growth to either side that could offer concealment. The ground was too rocky to permit much in the way of tree cover, but there were clumps of bushes within view that were almost thick enough to shelter a man on horseback, let alone one on foot.

Mara slowly pulled on the reins, slowing the team. You see anything? she asked.

Jaron had strung his bow with the speed of long practice. His quiver, full of small arrows the length of his arm, sat beside him on the seat within easy reach. No, he said. But there’s plenty of cover. He didn’t have to comment on Beetle’s instincts; both of them were well acquainted with his ability to sense danger.

Mara brought the wagon to a stop and set the brake. She twined the reins around the post next to it and reached down to the front of the seat with her damaged hand. When she brought it up again, she was holding a small wooden shield bound in strips of metal.

Stay here, she said. I’ll go check it out.

Jaron nodded. He was far better at scouting than she was, but with the bow he could cover her from the high vantage of the wagon seat. Compared to her sword, the bow looked almost like a toy, but a number of much larger foes had underestimated him to their regret.

Mara started to get out of the wagon, but she’d barely stood up when Jaron lightly touched her arm. Mara.

She looked up to see that a dwarf had appeared out of the rocks that butted up against the left side of the road, maybe thirty paces ahead of the halted team, and was walking toward them. She immediately noted the scabbard of the shortsword that poked out from under his coat, and the fact that the drab leather garment itself was bulky enough to possibly conceal a suit of mail or other armor underneath. He was a rough-looking fellow, with an eyepatch covering one eye and a greasy, matted beard that had been hacked into two strands bound together with cords.

Good morrow, travelers! he called with a voice as rough as his appearance.

Mara remained standing, her sword hanging in her hand, still in its scabbard but able to ready in an instant. Jaron stood at her side, an arrow fitted to his bow but without tension on the string. Hello, she said. Under her breath, just loud enough for Jaron to hear, she added, This seems familiar.

I do recall something similar from when we first met, the hauflin replied. Neither bothered to look back in the wagon for Beetle.

The dwarf came to a stop maybe ten paces ahead of the horses, which stamped a bit at his approach. A fine day for travel, he said.

It is indeed, Mara called out. What can we do for you today, mister…

They call me Ramjek One-Eye, the dwarf said. He flicked his eyepatch. For obvious reasons. As for my business… well, this here’s the road to Delverhame.

A fact of which we are aware, Mara said.

Indeed. Travelin’ folk with a wagon full of goods for trade. This your first visit to the dwarven lands, I reckon? When Mara and Jaron didn’t reply he said, So perhaps you’re not being aware, that this here is a toll road.

You don’t say, Mara said.

Indeed I do. Surely you’ve noted the fair condition of this here thoroughfare. Keeping such a lonely stretch of roadway in good shape does not come cheap.

And you are the collector of such dues, master One-Eye? Jaron asked.

A humble job, for a humble man.

It must be a difficult job, and lacking a corresponding wage, Mara said. Or are your uniform and badge of office at the cleaners?

If you’d both hop down from up there, I’d be happy to show you my credentials, Ramjek said.

We’re fine here for now, Mara said.

Just out of curiosity, what’s the toll? Jaron asked.

Well, I’d have to inspect your goods, the dwarf said. But for a wagon like yours, full to the brim looks like, I’d say around twenty Siresian trade marks, in silver, would probably do it. Or half that in gold, if that’s what you have.

That’s an ambitious sum, Mara said.

Well, we could always work out a deal in trade, if you prefer.

We have five casks of apple brandy, Jaron said. We’d be willing to offer one to you in exchange for safe passage.

There was a soft rustling in the bushes alongside the road, and another figure emerged from the side opposite where Ramjek was standing. He was another dwarf, this one rail thin and slightly bent, but he was well armed, with at least three knives strapped to him that they could see.

Ramjek let out a sigh. My associate, he said.

The other dwarf shot Mara and Jaron a beady look. Can we quit with the bloody banter already? he asked. As he spoke he fidgeted with the handles of two of his knives.

Your associate does not appear to be with the program, Mara said.

It is hard to find good help these days, Ramjek said. I’ll tell you what I’m going to do for you today. We’ll take four of those five casks off your hands. Not like your weekin friend there can drink it, and you don’t strike me as the sort to imbibe to excess.

Dwarves, on the other hand, are known to enjoy their drink, Mara said. Thus our purpose in bringing it to Delverhame.

Bah, those miners wouldn’t appreciate it as much as we hard-working sorts would, right, Corfer?

The other dwarf fondled his knives and let out a giggle.

And for that modest offering you would let us pass? Mara asked.

Well, let’s say that and a small bit of coin. Say five trade marks.

An interesting offer, Mara said. Why don’t you invite your other associates out of the bushes and have them join the conversation? It must be uncomfortable, squatting in the mud.

Ramjek gave her a hard look for a moment, then lifted a dirty pair of fingers to his lips and let out a loud whistle.

The response came about where she’d expected. Two more men emerged from along the road to their left, another dwarf and a lean, rangy human. The dwarf carried a loaded crossbow, while the human held a short thrusting spear in both hands. Neither appeared to be armored, but she knew that their heavy coats would offer some protection against slashing attacks.

Mara scanned them both as they emerged from their hiding places, but most of her attention remained on Ramjek. Thus she saw the way his eyes flicked to the other side of the road. No one else appeared there, and a look of unease appeared momentarily on the dwarf’s face before he concealed it behind his amiable false front.

You ready? she whispered.

Yeah, Jaron replied.

So, Ramjek said. Are you going to yield peaceably?

In response, Mara flicked the hand holding her sword. The scabbard shot clear, revealing three feet of gleaming, perfectly polished steel.

The dwarf with the crossbow didn’t wait for orders. Even as Mara bared her blade, he lifted his weapon, sighted down the length of the bolt, and fired.

* * * * *

Chapter 2

Mara shot into motion.

Jaron had lifted his bow as soon as the crossbowman took aim, but he had to jerk back as Mara leaned over and thrust her shield in front of him. The hauflin’s eyes widened as the steel head of the bolt suddenly appeared a scant few inches in front of his face. The quarrel had pierced Mara’s shield but hadn’t fully penetrated. Fortunately, the bow had been a light claw-operated weapon rather than one of the winch-operated bows that were designed to punch through armor. Jaron could see a tiny bit of red glistening on the sharp edge where it had grazed Mara’s arm in coming through the shield, but then it was gone as his friend leapt down from the wagon to meet the men charging toward them with steel in their hands.

She was outnumbered, but Jaron knew to trust her, knew what he had to do first. Even as the bow-armed dwarf reached for the clawed hook hanging from his belt Jaron’s arrow pierced the meat of his arm. The dwarf cursed as the bow fell from his suddenly limp grip and landed into the mud along the side of the road.

The human bandit, with his longer legs, was the first to reach Mara. His spear gave him the advantage of reach, and as she came close he stabbed at her with gusto. But she easily parried the thrust, sliding her sword down the shaft of the spear until it intersected with the fingers of his leading hand. The bandit jerked back as the razor-sharp steel bit deep into his flesh, nearly severing