The Scales of Death: The Esfah Sagas, #8

By Christopher Schmitz and Steffen Larken

En route to deal with a rogue dragon, the Gods'own escort a troop of traveling merchants when Melkior spots and recognizes the black drake. This is a creature he and the others watched die outside the hills near Lyandrica—there is no way the thing should be alive!

 

When the Dragonlord's abilities prove ineffective against the thing, the heroes turn aside until they meet an unlikely ally: Rahkawmn, scion of Vissenzyeth the White, a dragon famous among the eldarim people.

 

Perhaps Melkior and the rest can overcome this new challenge—but their trials become more difficult when betrayers emerge from their band of merchant companions!

 

This exciting, new 12-story event in the Esfah Sagas begins the Godmaker story arc and is also known as Time of the Champions. Start this epic journey today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christopher Schmitz
• Release date: May 22, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224153633

Christopher Schmitz

Christopher Schmitz (M.A.), geb. 1988, ist wissenschaftlicher Mitarbeiter am Göttinger Institut für Demokratieforschung.

Book preview

The Scales of Death

The Godmaker Saga part 1: 8

Christopher D. Schmitz, Steffen Larken

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TreeShaker Books

Copyright © 2024 by Christopher D. Schmitz

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

Other Esfah Stories

The Scales of Death

About Esfah

Appendices

About the authors

The Game

Other Esfah Stories

The Esfah Sagas is a large universe—here are other stories you might enjoy!

(stories with an *asterisk are novellas)

The Relic Quests

Ashes of Ailushurai

Rise of the Champions

Drakuwar

*The Clockwork Castle

The Cyrean Songs

Chill Wind

Eye of the Storm

Secrets of the Shadowlands

*Thunderfist and the Dragon

Tales of the First Age

Rise and Fall of the Obsidian Grotto

Cast of Fate

Army of the Dead

*Tome of the Tarvanehl

*Heart of Stone and Flame

The Godmaker Saga

Time of the Champions

The Magestorm Wars 1: Godmaker (coming soon)

The Magestorm Wars 2: Godbreaker (coming soon)

Special Invitation

Thank you so much for checking out my book! As a special bonus for you, you'll get a high rez edition of the Esfah worldmap plus a free book if you to follow my newsletter:

https://www.subscribepage.com/getfreedragondicenovels

I send about 2 emails per month after a few intro messages, (plus a few holiday/special event messages) and you can unsubscribe anytime—the newsletter and my Legends and Lorecraft group are the best ways to keep in touch, and the L&L group has a social component so can share what you like and chat with others fans about the stories.

The Godmaker Saga: Time of the Champions

Black Dragons and Blue Elves

The Pale Gunner

Strength of the Gwich'in

Bearer of the Shield

The Sword of Aeschere

Calling of the Champions

Slow Burn

Scales of Death

Under Siege

The Burning of Lurneville

Bastard of the Death God

The Pursuit of Madness

The Scales of Death

W hy did you kill me? asked the boy with the dead eyes.

Aeschere woke with a start. He sat straight in his bed and shut his eyes hard, as if it might make the ghost go away. A vain attempt. Darkness is all too welcoming for such apparitions.

With a grunt, he threw off the cover, rose, and walked to the basin. He washed his face before glancing into the mirror.

He stared at his reflection. Dark circles ringed the crimson skin near his eyes. The lava elf hadn’t slept well for the past few weeks, not since Elion had left. It seemed the firewalker’s doubts had carried over to him.

Aeschere thought he’d never see his victims again—and he hadn’t for months—but now they had returned to haunt him.

Had he not atoned enough for his sins?

He went to the window and gazed outside. The sky was lightening, and soon Soll would rise. The lava elf decided some fresh air would do him good.

After he dressed and grabbed his things, he headed downstairs.

The streets of Bralanthyr were empty. It was still too early for the crowds, though every once in a while he would cross an early riser who hurried to his or her destination, barely nodding at Aeschere as they went by.

There were soldiers, too. More than usual. The attacks on Gnomehome had everyone on edge. Troops had been sent south to assist, while those who stayed behind remained on alert.

King Vandoriil Silverleaf had pledged to help. His navy would be leaving from Lurneville soon. Aeschere thought they should go too, but Melkior convinced them that the local threats were more urgent, and this was no time for an insurrection.

Nor was he wrong. An insurrection could destabilize the local government and spread chaos throughout the region—and someone was trying to do exactly that. Any troops fighting in Gnomehome would be recalled to contain the situation, and that could have devastating consequences for the war.

He paused when he saw a familiar silhouette leaning against a nearby wall.

Can’t sleep either? asked the vagha warrior.

Aeschere walked up to his companion and leaned next to him.

I have ghosts, he muttered.

Don’t we all?

The morehl quirked a brow as he turned to look at Klagend.

Surely, you don’t...

Ah, but I do! I often think of my father. He was murdered by the morehl. They used those damn cursed bullets of theirs on him and they went right through his shield.

That’s not the same thing, the elf said bitterly.

Klagend glanced at him. Aye. I imagine not. Still, it keeps me awake at times, thinking of how things could have been, had there been no war between our people.

The lava elf said nothing and the two friends fell quiet, watching as the crowd slowly grew and Soll rose in the sky.

We should head in, Aeschere said. They must be waiting for us.

The dwarf nodded, and they walked back to the inn.

They found the others in the backroom where the Gods’own had been meeting for the past few days.

Melkior sat across from the door, with Ailushurai next to him. Across from them were Arfetsus and Hirthak, who looked over their shoulders when the two latecomers arrived.

Aeschere sat to Hirthak’s right