The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) (6 page)

CHAPTER 12

It seemed so out of place to imagine such things as trolls fighting a dragon, albeit a small one, to the death. My inner self was recoiling, uncertain what to do, when the cage doors opened on a tunnel to a rousing chorus of cheers. A troll—ten kinds of ugly all wrapped up into a ruddy piece of brawny flesh towering ten feet tall—stood there pounding its fist into its hand. The smacking was so loud it popped my ears. I tore my eyes away from the troll that lumbered, arms swinging into the walls, shaking the cage on its way into the chamber. The dragon was as still as a crane on his perch, unmoving.
Good boy,
I thought. I could tell he was a boy by the scales on his belly, a little darker than the orange and yellow scales on his body, unlike the girls, who were usually lighter than the rest.

The troll, naked except for a burlap loincloth, narrowed its small eyes on the dragon and let out a terrible yell, loud and getting louder. A battle cry of sorts. A chorus of bestial fury. The dragon remained at peace on his perch, not showing the slightest degree of motion.

The crowd quieted, all eyes as full as the moon and fixated on the dragon. My own heart was pounding in my chest like a team of galloping horses. The troll, every bit as dangerous as it was dumb, lumbered around the dragon like a predator sizing up its prey. Despite their lack of intelligence, trolls aren't impulsive, but once they make a decision, which usually involves something other than them dying, they stick to it.

“What’s going on?” Brenwar muttered.

“I’m not sure.”

“KILL THE DRAGON!” someone cried.

That’s when the chants began, a rising crescendo of fury, and like a frenzied ape, the troll beat its chest, charging the unmoving dragon, massive fists raised and ready to deal a lethal blow.

The dragon’s wings popped open, his serpentine neck striking out as he began breathing a stream of white lava.

The troll screamed in agony, thrashing under the weight of the dragon’s breath that coated it from head to toe with brilliant-white, burning oil. The troll's flesh charred and smoked, its efforts to escape diminishing. From where I stood, the heat was like sticking your face too close to a campfire. The crowd roared so loud I couldn’t hear myself think. I slapped Brenwar on the back, unable to hide my elation as the little dragon finished, leaving nothing left of the troll but the smoldering bones and an uncanny stink.

Brenwar looked up at me, eyes as big as stones, and said, “Did you see that? I’ve never seen a dragon with breath like that!”

Dragons. There were all kinds. Different makes and families, and each kind had a special weapon or two of its own. The orange dragons, called blazed ruffies, were among of the noblest and deadliest of them all. I had to get this one out, and soon. He was still young, and it would be at least a day before his breath returned.

“That should do it,” I said. “Let’s stick around and see what we can do to sneak this dragon out of here.”

There was a lot of murmuring, most good, some bad. It seemed most of the people that liked to take chances had been smart enough to bet on the dragon. I was expecting everyone to leave, but most of them were sticking around and talking. Of course, how often do you get to see a live dragon fight? Their fascination sickened me.

I looked above as the fat man whose mouth was too large for his face spoke again.

SEND … IN … MORE … TROLLS!

My heart sank down into my toes. “What?” I couldn’t hide my exclamation. Wooden double doors opened on the other side of the cage into the tunnel again. Two trolls, this time carrying shields and clubs and wearing helmets, charged the orange dragon on the perch. The crowd screamed. I screamed. The dragon didn’t stand a chance. He’d last another minute or two at most.

“We've got to get him out of there, Brenwar!” I yelled.

The dragon zoomed from his perch, dashing between the legs of one troll, who swung, missed, and bashed the other. Dragons are fast no matter how big they are. But no dragon with spent breath and little room to fly could last for long in that cage.

“Find a way in, Brenwar!”

As soon as I pushed one person away, two more appeared. The crowd was in a frenzy, trying to get a closer look. The cage, so far as I could see, didn’t have a door or opening except into the tunnel on the other side. I heard a sound like a rattlesnake's rattle. The ruffie clawed his way up one troll's back, tearing its flesh up like dirt, drawing an inhuman howl. He perched on one troll's head and taunted the other with the rattlesnake sound made by tiny fins that buzzed by his ears.

WANG!

One troll struck the other on its metal helmet just as the dragon darted away. It looked like two clumsy dogs trying to catch a mouse. One troll would swing, miss, and hit the other. That wouldn’t last forever. Dragons, for all their speed and skill, tire quickly after their dragon breath is spent. They are magic, and magic needs time to recharge. Trolls, however, tire about as easily as a wall of stone. Those two wouldn’t stop or slow until they were dead.

“Brenwar!”

I couldn’t see him, but I could see people falling like stones, a path of people parting within the throng before closing up again.

The voice from above came again.

“STOP … THEM!”

I saw him, the fat mage, like a toad on a stool, pointing straight at me. The crowd, dazzled by the spectacular fight, gave the man little notice, but the guards, the ones armed to the teeth, were ready and coming after me. If they got me, I’d never get to the dragon in time, and I still hadn’t figured out a way inside the cage.

“MOVE!” I shouted, but the people paid me no mind.

That’s when I heard it, an awful sound, the sound of a dragon crying out, his shrieking so loud it hurt my ears. A troll had ahold of his wing. The dragon fought and fluttered, talons tearing into the troll's flesh, but its grip held firm. That’s when something snapped inside me. A geyser of power erupted within my bones. Fang, my sword, was glowing white hot in my hands. I was surrounded, but my mind was no longer my own. The guards and men were falling under the wrath of my blade. I ignored the fear-filled screams and howls of fury. I could not tell one man from another. All I wanted to do was save the dragon, and nothing was going to stop me.

There was blood and fury in my eyes as I swung Fang into the iron cage. Fang cut into the iron as I chopped like a lumberjack gone mad.
Hack! Hack! Hack!
I was through, a troll's massive back awaiting me. I sent Fang through its spine and caught a glimmer of the dragon slithering away. Brenwar was yelling. I turned in time to see the other troll's club coming for me. I dove.
Whump!
The club missed my head. I rolled.
Whump!
It almost broke my back as I scrambled away.
Crack!
The troll fell over dead, thanks to the help of Brenwar’s war hammer catching it in the skull.

“Come on!” He pulled me to my feet. Ahead, the large wooden double doors, at least ten inches thick, barred our escape from the coming wrath of who knows what.

Brenwar charged, war hammer raised over his head, bellowing, “BARTFAAAAST!”

There was a clap of thunder, the splintering of wood, and a giant hole in the doors that had momentarily barred our path. The dragon was gone like a bolt of orange lightning.

“Follow that dragon,” I yelled, following Brenwar down the tunnel.

The dwarven fighter's short legs churned like a billy goat's as he charged down one tunnel and through another. My instincts fired at the sound of armored soldiers coming after us down the tunnel.

“Do you know where you’re going, Brenwar?” I cried from behind him.

Brenwar snorted, “I’m a dwarf, aren’t I? Not a tunnel made that can lose me.”

We found ourselves running down a long corridor, where a wooden door had been busted open that led outside into the once again pouring rain. The pounding of armored bootsteps was coming our way, as were voices barking orders and calling for our heads. It was time to make a stand.

A group of heavily armed soldiers rounded the corner, armored in chain mail from head to toe, the silver tips of their spears glinting in the torch light.

“Get him,” one ordered from behind, thrusting his sword in the air.

I whipped Fang’s keen edge around my body and yelled back.

“The first one that comes within ten feet of me is dead!”

The soldiers stopped, looking with uncertainty toward one another. That’s when I noticed the blood dripping from my sword. Their eyes were on it as well, and a hollow feeling crept over me. How many had I killed? Everything was a blur. Perhaps it was troll’s blood, but it didn’t seem dark enough.

“Skewer that man!” The commander's face was red. “If you don’t follow orders, then you're dead men anyway. We’ve got strength in numbers. Attack!”

The first two spearmen lowered their weapons at my belly and advanced. All I wanted to do was buy time. Just a few seconds more. I leaped in, batting one spear away with my sword and yanking the spear away from the next man. The soldiers shuffled back. Now I faced them with a sword in one hand and a spear hoisted over my shoulder.

“The next soldier to advance will catch this in his belly,” I said, motioning with the spear.

“Cowards! Charge him! Charge him now!”

The unarmed spearman stepped back as another took his place.

I launched my spear into his leg. The man let out a cry of pain as he tumbled to the ground.

I ducked as a spear whizzed past my face.

“Charge!”

I hoisted Fang over my head and said, “Stop! I surrender!”

No one moved, every eye intent on me.

The commander shouted from the back, “Drop your sword, then!”

Slowly, I lowered my arms. But I had another plan. I’d use Fang’s magic to blast back my enemies as I’d done in the tavern.

“What are you smiling for?” The commander moved forward.

“I’m just glad to put an end to the violence, is all. Oh, and you might want to hold your ears.”

“What for?”

I banged the tip of Fang’s blade on the stone corridor’s floor.

Ting.

Nothing happened. I tried it again.

Ting.

Drat!

“Fang, what are you doing?” I shook my sword.

The commander was not amused. “You going to drop that sword or not?”

I was flat footed now with nowhere to go but out. I grasped my sword in both my hands and pulled it in front of my face.

“I’ve changed my mind. I’m going to fight you all. To the death!” I let out a battle cry and charged forward. All of the soldiers hunkered down. In stride, I pivoted on my right foot, twisted the other way, and dashed through the busted doorway into the rain.

I was drenched the moment I made it out into the river of mud that was supposed to be a street. I heard a horse nicker nearby and dashed that way. Brenwar, my horse in tow, was galloping down the road, hooves splashing in the water.

“Run, Dragon!”

The heavy boots were trampling behind me as I sprinted alongside Brenwar, grabbed ahold of the saddle on my horse, and pulled myself up.

“Great timing,” I yelled up toward Brenwar as we began our gallop away. “I couldn’t have done better myself—
ulp!
”

Something that burned like fire slammed into my back. Another spear sailed past my head, followed by another. The pain was excruciating as I galloped onward with a spear in my back, holding on for dear life.

***

It was dawn before we stopped riding. I could barely keep my head up, and I swore I’d black out any second. We didn’t slow, not once, taking trails little known to most. I'd been that certain our pursuers were many. I was restless when we stopped along a silvery stream and gave the horses a moment to drink.

“Finally stopping, are we? Think we lost them?” Brenwar said.

I slid from my saddle, grimacing.

“What’s the matter with you, Nath? You look like … Egad! Is that a spear in your back?”

He hurried over and inspected my wound.

“Ouch! I don’t need speared again, Brenwar!”

“Why didn’t you say something, you fool? You could’ve bled to death.”

“It’s not that bad,” I gasped. “Only a javelin, right?”

“Sure, and I’m a fairy's uncle. Still, it’s a small one. Not barbed for hunting. It’s wedged between your armor and your back. Hold this.” Brenwar put my reins in my mouth.

“What for?” I tried to ask.

“Just bite down. I’ve got to pull the spear out.”

I shook my head.

Brenwar yanked out the spear. I screamed. It felt like my entire back was pulled out, and I fell to my knees.

“I’m going to need to stitch that up. And quick. Are you sure you are feeling sound? That’s a dangerous wound. Another inch it’d be inside a lung.”

It hurt, but I’d been stitched up by Brenwar before. Besides, I had some salve that would accelerate the healing.

“All done,” he grumbled as he poked his finger in my face, “and next time, tell me something.”