Terry W. Ervin (5 page)

I wanted to ask for what, but simply watched and listened. The armored siege wagons could withstand any arrow or spear, but not many goblins or zombies could be packed inside them. Not enough to make a difference when they emerged from the panzers across the river.

The panzers didn’t roll across the bridge like I expected. One took up station five yards from the bridge, and the second twenty yards to its right.

“They’ll target the blockhouses,” whispered Road Toad. “I’ve seen Crusader cannons in action. Those panzer cannons won’t penetrate the walls in one shot. Then they’ll have to retreat out of range for the ogres to ram new loads down the tube. If the defenders have any wizards, that’s when they should make their counter attack.”

Road Toad and I watched the cannons rotate and elevate, targeting the granite blockhouses. Road Toad started to say something else, but the panzer cannons thundered, interrupting him.

The cannon fire slammed into the upper levels, penetrating the granite, sending showers of shattered stone outward. Screams followed. The panzers didn’t retreat, and fifteen seconds later they fired again, crumbling the upper levels.

Men fled from what remained of the blockhouses. Souled zombies on the panzers directing swivel-mounted mini-cannon fire cut them down. They fired not just once but in bursts of dozens. The barking chatter drowned men’s cries as white fire darted across the river, into the defenders. I watched in horror. Even Road Toad had underestimated, believing panzer firepower equivalent to Crusader weaponry. I checked my equipment, expecting Road Toad to follow Pops Weasel’s example.

Instead he said into my ear, “Look, Krish,” and pointed. “Lord Hingroar assigned an earth wizard to hold the bridge.”

I’d never seen one, and hardly believed the descriptions until that moment, but a huge creature, a harnessed elemental spirit lumbered toward the bridge. The earth spirit summoned by the wizard manifested itself as a towering, fifteen foot jumble of compacted earth and stone. It resembled a faceless ogre, but larger. Forty yards behind the crumbling blockhouses a bonfire burst into flame.

“Lesser Wizard Morgan made it,” I said, knowing the fire wizard’s magic would weaken as it crossed over the river.

“All may not be lost,” agreed Road Toad, even as a third panzer rolled forward, angling our direction. It stopped twenty yards to the left of the center panzer before turning to face the defenders across the river.

Mini-cannon fire raked the earth elemental, tearing off small chunks. The main cannons rotated, seeking to target their new adversary.

“We’ve got to help,” said Road Toad over the near-deafening chatter of mini-cannon fire.

“What?” I asked. “Do what?”

“That zombie firing the mini-cannon,” he said. “Be ready to shoot him.”

The panzer sat only twenty yards away, and both zombies, the one directing from the top, and the one firing the gun, were too occupied to notice anything around them.

“When?” I asked Road Toad.

“When I take out the commander atop the nearest panzer.”

The earth elemental lumbered past one of the shattered blockhouses and picked up a piece of a fallen wall. With apparent ease it hurled the five hundred pound granite chunk, striking the front of the center panzer. The blow knocked the battlewagon back, denting its steel-clad front. The struck panzer’s mini-cannon fell silent as the zombie tugged at a lever on the weapon. But the main cannon fired, missed the elemental, and caused an explosion two hundred yards beyond.

In response, from the bonfire a ball of fire arced skyward, across the river. It nearly flared out before splitting. The two flames darted down, searing into the central panzer’s exposed zombies.

The elemental advanced one stride onto the bridge and hesitated before stomping a massive foot down, weakening it.

“Be ready, Krish,” said Road Toad as he leapt forward and ran low toward the nearest panzer. When he was halfway there its main cannon sounded, causing him to stumble in his stride, but the mercenary continued forward. The cannon missed the elemental, and instead impacted against the already destroyed blockhouse on the right, reducing it to rubble.

The mini-cannons had taken their toll on the elemental, leaving its surface ragged and torn. It stomped again. A bridge section fell into the river, leaving a jagged hole extending inward from the eastern edge.

Goblins shrieked warnings when Road Toad reached the side of the panzer. The zombie commander, heeding the goblin cries, frantically looked around. I let fly with my crossbow at the mini-cannon zombie as Road Toad leapt onto the rear of the panzer. The commander held up its hands to ward off the coming blow. Road Toad’s swing cut through one forearm and bit into the zombie’s head.

My quarrel struck the mini-cannon firing zombie in the shoulder, causing it to wail while clutching at the shaft and salt-laden wound. I was so surprised I nearly dropped my crossbow. I’d never heard a souled zombie cry out, its voice more shrill and grating than any human could match.

Road Toad wrenched his sword free and leapt from the panzer, avoiding several hastily fired goblin arrows. He sprinted my direction and showed no signs of slowing. Although Pops Weasel had said as much, the sinking feeling finally hit; we weren’t going to make it across the bridge. To emphasize the fact, the far panzer’s cannon found its mark, hitting the earth elemental in the chest, blowing it apart.

The central panzer, even without an exposed leader, rumbled forward. I didn’t linger to see if it made it across the damaged bridge. Instead, I dropped my crossbow, grabbed my spear, and fled. Road Toad pounded along the river bank three steps behind me and thirty yards ahead of two charging ogres and at least a dozen screeching goblins.

Patches of stringy vines mingled with brush, and stands of willow trees lined the river bank. After two minutes of sprinting, covering a half mile, the ogres had kept pace but the goblins no longer screamed. They’d fallen behind in the pursuit. Even though my chest ached for air, I dared not slacken my pace. I wasn’t sure if the booming panzers had ceased firing or if the combined pounding of my heart and the river’s torrential flow drowned it out.

Road Toad leapt next to me and then surged ahead. “Don’t stop,” he encouraged between breaths. He pointed ahead, up the river. “Help, see?”

Over the river I spotted an enormous shadowy form gliding just above the tree line. A second followed. Road Toad shouted, “Hail!” and added a piercing screech, almost like a hawk’s, as the pair of dragons with riders whooshed past. I stumbled over a root, but caught myself before falling.

I risked a glance over my shoulder. The ogres had closed the gap to ten yards. They advanced along the slick ground with long, steady strides. Maneuvering around trees delayed them from overtaking us.

“Into the trees,” I panted.

Road Toad labored to keep his pace. “No!”

One Ogre laughed deeply while the other shouted, “Gaaff haw ne dubs!”

“Grull…awik,” replied Road Toad between breaths.

Although our pace had slowed, a dense stand of young oaks crowding the swollen riverbank promised safety—even if only temporary. The thought drove me on. We reached it five yards ahead of the lead ogre. It slid and crashed into the trees, breaking two at the stump and cracking several others. The monster bellowed in rage and frustration. The other moved to circle the small stand.

I tried to slow but Road Toad dragged me on. “The serpent riders will return. We must be along the river.”

Why? I couldn’t fathom. But alone, against even one ogre, I didn’t stand a chance. So I followed the mercenary, trusting his experience.

We emerged from the small stand of oaks at a trot and immediately picked up the pace. The new lead ogre spotted us and, avoiding trees, angled toward the river—toward us. Maybe if Road Toad had Pops Weasel to support him he’d have turned to fight. But he only had me, a militia-trained farmhand. I’d even discarded my crossbow, although if I’d have carried its weight, I’d have been caught long ago. I still had the quiver of quarrels, but removing it would require shifting my spear to my other hand, away from the riverside and toward the brush.

The ogre had misjudged our speed and reached the river fifteen yards behind us. A little further back, the ogre that’d crashed into the trees bellowed threats. “Nash haw dubs!”

Road Toad looked over his shoulder but didn’t respond. Instead he grinned. “Faster, Krish,” he huffed. “Faster!”

The ogre’s pounding stride closed. I strained with all I had, knowing it wasn’t enough to keep ahead of certain death. Without warning, Road Toad slowed, grabbed my collar and tugged me toward the river. “Jump!”

I was too exhausted to resist and leapt after the mercenary into the river. Immediately the current took hold and swept us back toward the ogres. I lost my spear as Road Toad pulled me under. The current carried us away from the shore, but not before the lead ogre swung its club down through the water and striking my left arm as I tumbled in the current. I dove to escape another blow, sending a sharp pain through my left arm.

I surfaced, gasping for air and screamed as the river buffeted my broken arm. I didn’t care if the ogre clubbed me again; I had to breathe. A shadow passed overhead. I wasn’t sure if it was the current or Road Toad, but something drew me below the surface.

I tumbled and swirled, struggling against my water-soaked armor and my arm’s numbing pain. The ogres wouldn’t get me. I was going to drown instead. I surfaced again, splashing and gasping. Deep, guttural, agonized cries echoed across the river.

The swirling torrent hauled me under again and I didn’t have the strength to fight it. I clutched my right arm over my broken left and held what breath I had, fighting against the inevitable.

Something huge clutched me around the chest, pinned my arms, and pulled me from the water. My body skipped across the surface as I rose from the river. The claw that’d snatched me held firm against my struggles, yet allowed shallow breaths. The narrow escape from ogres only to be ensnared by a dragon’s claw left me stunned. Breathing consumed my thoughts and nothing else.

Wind whipped by. I opened my eyes. Below, fields and trees sped by. An enormous black claw with glistening talons held me, tucked tight against an equally black-scaled belly. The dragon’s gray, bat-like wings slowly flapped, adding height and speed.

“Soldiers,” called the serpent cavalryman directing the dragon. “Relax as best you are able. We have a two hour flight.”

“Ha-Haaa, Krish!”

I craned my neck to see Road Toad clutched in the claw of a second dragon. He continued to laugh and enjoy the ride. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore my aching arm.

“Krish,” called Road Toad a short time later. “We just flew over Pine Ridge. They’re evacuating.”

I looked down at the town buildings as they diminished in size. Using the town as a reference I was able to determine landmarks from the aerial view. I watched as we approached my family’s farm south of Pine Ridge. My father and younger brother had hitched our plow horse to the cart. My mother ran from the cabin with a bundle in her arms. Katchia, my little sister, dragged a basket toward the cart.

They gazed up through the early morning sky at the dragon carrying me. I shouted down, “Father! It’s me, Krish! I’m safe!” They didn’t shout or wave in return. My father held Old Lou steady while the rest returned to packing.

At least I knew they were fleeing to safety.

2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee

“Captain, a second American frigate is in the area,” reported the sonar man. “Closing on our position.”

“No matter,” dismissed the captain of the aging missile sub. “Our comrades will occupy them.” Besides, he was confident that an American attack sub already trailed his boat. He examined his watch. “Helmsman, bring our depth to fifteen meters. Man battle stations. Prepare to launch missiles.”

I awoke to a distant dragon’s deep, throaty roar. Ours returned a more hawk-like reply to the challenge. I spotted the dragon ahead, the sun glinting off its red-tinged scales as it banked east. It was larger than the dragon that carried me.

Rocky terrain sped by about 500 yards below. If we’d continued south I guessed we’d left the Doran Confederacy and entered the Kingdom of Keesee. As we approached a mass of tents and humanity, the dragons began a wide spiraling descent. I looked down to get a lay of the camp.

Most notable was a string of eight dragons staring up at our approach. Two smaller dragons, black like ours, stood apart from six of the larger, red-tinted ones. Two of the reds had men scrambling on and around them, securing harnesses and enormous saddles. The dragons resembled reptilian bats, except for the long tails and serpentine necks ending in massive, horned heads. The reds each had a frill of long ivory horns pointing back toward the wings. The blacks had only nubs for horns, one above each eye and two protruding from the bottom jaw. The reds had slitted pupils surrounded by orange irises while the blacks had ivory irises.

The dragons emitted threatening snarls as we passed overhead. Ours replied, staring downward. “Easy, Night Shard,” urged the cavalryman guiding my dragon. The voice rang confident, yet friendly. “One more loop around and you can join the bevy.”

A second voice from above laughed. “Prince Reveron, don’t forget the mercenaries in the clutches of our fell beasts.”