Beyond the Dragon’s Teeth
Copyright© 2026 by Asa Strong
Chapter 20
The morning dawned clear and cold. My side was stiff and sore from my wound, and I gingerly worked myself from my blankets. After I stood and stretched, I noticed Saraid at the cook fire, starting to prepare our morning meal. I rubbed my eyes, shook the sleep out of my head, and made ready for the coming day.
As I walked towards Saraid, I noticed Torg sitting on a rock on the far side of the fire. He had a troubled look on his face. I immediately changed direction and decided to see what was bothering him.
“Good morning,” I said, as I walked up to where he was sitting.
Torg looked up at me, nodded his head, and then said, “Yes, it should be a nice day to travel.”
I sat down beside him, and then asked, “You looked like you were worried about something?”
He turned towards me and then said, “I’m wondering how a Barland came to be this far to the east.”
I was confused, “A Barland?”
He nodded his head, “The large black orc. They are called Barland, and come from far to the west of here.”
“Why does this worry you?”
Torg screwed up his face, probably trying to choose his words carefully, and finally answered.
“Donta, the Barland are loners. They usually stay near their mountain home, far to the west. They are also fierce fighters and for one to be leading a band of orcs is very unusual.”
“What do you think it means?” I asked.
“Donta,” he said, “for a Barland to be here means that there is much we don’t understand. It was quite obvious that the black orc was leading the group that attacked us.”
Torg paused for a moment, and then continued, “I’ve been sitting here thinking about all the orcs we’ve seen; both on our journey across the flatland and in the forest. It seems like the orcs are being driven by a common cause.”
“So, you think there is some kind of organization driving the orcs?”
He looked at me, and nodded his head.
I thought about what he said for a moment, and came to the conclusion that what he feared was a distinct possibility.
“Torg,” I said, “you may be right. I don’t know enough about orcs to say. But, if you fear this, then I must take it as a serious threat.”
Torg nodded his head, and I stood and made my way to the fire. Thinking about orcs did nothing to quell the rumbling in my stomach.
After a quick breakfast, we broke camp and returned to our journey.
Shortly after leaving camp, we came to the top of the mountain ridge. Before us lay a majestic panorama of smaller mountains; with deep valleys interspersed between their peaks. To the northwest, we could see aspen groves in the distance. From what we could see of the track we were following, it led in the direction we wished to travel.
After a short pause, Jarraid took the lead and we commenced the downward trek, towards the valley below.
We stopped for a mid-day meal alongside a small rivulet, and then continued on. By the time the sun started over the top of the mountain to the west, we had crossed another smaller mountain and reached the valley beyond it.
For two more days, the routine was maintained. Rise early, thread our way over and around the mountain peaks, always heading in a northwest direction.
On the evening of the third day, we entered a huge, dense growth of pine trees. The path we had been following was quickly lost after we entered the stifling presence of the huge trees. We made camp in a very small clearing just before the sun set. The campfire shed little light. The darkness was so pervasive that it felt like what little light the fire created was consumed by the massive trees.
We forced our way through the great tangle, for that was the only way to describe the dense and copious growth for the next two days. Without Jarraid’s innate sense of direction, it is doubtful we would have been able to maintain our direction.
We finally rid ourselves of the depression of the thick forest two days later. Before us lay a peaceful valley of tall grass, and on the opposite side, the gentle swell of a large hill that was covered with aspen trees. We had reached our goal. Now it was a matter of finding the great circle of aspen trees.
The past few days had been difficult for our horses and mules. The trip had been arduous and had taken a toll on the animals.
We rested for two days, letting the animals graze in the lush grass. This also allowed the rest of us to recover as well. Traveling through the dense tangle of pinewoods had been depressing. There was a sense of foreboding as we had made our way through them, and it refreshed our spirits to finally be rid of the darkness of the trees.
Jarraid had a theory about how to find the Golden Circle of aspen trees. He told us of the many references in Elvin lore of what the elves called the “Three Sisters”. They were three mountains that formed a triangle, with a great aspen grove in the valley between them.
Off to the northwest, could be seen the peaks of three mountains that could be the Three Sisters. With nothing better to base our decision on, it was decided to travel in that direction.
The three mountains were much further than they looked. After two days of travel from the glen, where we had rested, they still appeared to be far in the distance.
We camped in a small copse of willow trees, with a fast-moving rill that merrily wound its way among the trees. We had decided to make camp early, as it appeared that we would have to cross a mountain to the north.
The campsite was very pleasing to the senses. Many small songbirds fluttered from tree to tree, showering us with their songs of joy.
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