Read Online A Balance Broken (Dragonsoul Saga) by J.T. Hartke - Free Book Online Page B

left. “The Shark will join us when Wolf does. Snake and Bear will come in time. It is the Mammoth who hold my doubts.”
    Balthor of the Ram grunted his agreement.
    Yes. The Ram and Boar founded our friendship fighting the Mammoth Clan.
    “Chieftain Sargash will choose to join us when Galdreth comes upon him.” Ortax lifted his nose with a confident air. He had been among the first to support alliance once the spirit appeared to him.
    Yet you did not support me as Warchief. I will not forget that. Nor will Galdreth. When the rear door squeaked open, Slar turned and his frown for Ortax melted. Radgred came around the corner, a slight smile on his aged face. Behind him strode Sharrog, his face so much like Slar’s. My Midsummer boy, Victor at his first Clanhold!
    “So I see you have returned from your hunt.” Slar grinned as wide as propriety allowed in public. “Has the ice cracked yet?”
    “It has indeed, father.” Sharrog tapped a fist over his heart. The smile, however, shifted to a frown. “There were few mammoths to be found, but the caribou were great in number.”
    Slar reached out to clasp his son’s arm. “Good then. We will have plenty of supplies for our march to Dragonsclaw.”
    Sharrog frowned and moved as if to speak, but Radgred interrupted. “Perhaps we should get something to eat.” The old sergeant growled at the gathered orcs. “The Warchief and son should have a meal of the fresh meat together.”
    With a nod of understanding, Sharrog walked out the door through which he had entered. Radgred followed close behind him. But before Slar exited, he addressed the assembled orcs. “I thank you all for your attendance.” He looked at the Ram chieftain’s son. “Especially you, Balthor. This alliance between Ram and Boar will be the core of a new nation for our people.” He returned Balthor’s nod of agreement. “We begin our journey to Dragonsclaw in three days. It will be an honor to walk on Ram Clan land again.”
    Balthor dropped into a full bow. “It is our honor, Warchief.”
    Brother Ortax frowned at the younger orc. “The honor is to serve Galdreth.”
    “Indeed,” Slar added with an air of finality.
    The group broke up with a round of nods. Slar had never known a time when his people were so agreeable. Perhaps the fear that Galdreth brings is the greatest motivator of all. My arguments would never have held sway in normal times.
    Shifting his swordbelt one last time, Slar followed his son and advisor toward the central stairwell leading to his chambers at the top of Blackstone. All the warriors who stood guard in the hall saluted their Warchief, fist over heart when he passed. He returned it to each of them in turn, slowing his progress even more. By the time he reached the stairs, Sharrog and Radgred neared their top. Slar took the steps two at a time, catching the pair as they reached the door to his new chambers.
    “Father! Glad you could join us.” The younger orc laughed. “The needs of your alliance are tedious. I prefer open battle to the intrigues of the hall myself.”
    “Ha!” Radgred tipped his chin. “What do you know of real battle, youngling? A dozen years of training and one victory at Clanhold, and you think you know war!” He rubbed an old wound on his shoulder. Slar remembered the battle against the Wolf Clan where Radgred had gained it. “I will take these good meals and warm beds any time.”
    “Yes, but you are not the one standing with shamans all day.” Slar sniffed the air. The scent of fresh kill wafted near his nostrils. “Perhaps you are right about the food, though.”
    Laid out in the entry hall to his private suite sat raw and rare cuts of meat heaped on silver platters. In the center of the table lay an uncooked mammoth tenderloin the size of Slar’s leg. Spread out next to it they found several loins of elk and caribou in various states of doneness. On another platter sat a piece of the mammoth’s liver. Other organs lay piled on