The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) (121 page)

CHAPTER 6

Brenwar tugged at his reins. Into the stiff winds they rode. Their dwarven horses nickered and stomped their hairy hooves. Behind him, Pilpin led his horse to a stop and opened his mouth. Cutting his utterance off with his hand, Brenwar squinted his eyes and sniffed the air.

In a low voice he said, “You smell that?”

Pilpin cocked his head. His eyes widened.

“Orcs.”

They’d been riding north, toward Narnum, for two days, keeping their eyes on the skies. Brenwar knew there was little chance he’d see a black dragon. He was certain the story was half-cocked to begin with, but dwarves claimed they had seen them. And if you couldn’t trust the word of a dwarf, who could you trust?

He dug his heels into his horse’s ribs and plunged deeper into the forest. He and Pilpin traveled the remotest of areas. The forces of Barnabus were along all of the major roads and scattered throughout the cities. Armies of thousands camped miles from Morgdon’s borders, keeping an eye on things. They were everywhere, making their presence known in irritating but unforceful ways.

The Truce.

The word irritated Brenwar.
You cannot have a truce with evil.

After traveling another twenty yards, he stopped and dismounted. Pilpin did the same. Like two stout barrels walking, the pair lumbered through the woods, pushing through the briars and brush. Rough orcen voices caught Brenwar’s ear. He crept behind the next tree and peered toward the source of the sound.

Two orcs wandered the woodland. Scouts, by the look of them. In chain hauberks and bearing crossbows. Swords hanging from their hips. It wasn’t a good sign. Where there were scouts, there were armies.

“We can take them,” Pilpin whispered, pulling his axes from his belt. “Let me do it.”

Brenwar shook his grey-streaked beard.

“No, I can take them,” he said. “You stay here.”

“But—”

“Stay,” he said, low and forcefully. He took a step and stopped. There might be others. Perhaps he needed to draw them out. He rubbed the bracers on his wrists. His blood began to race. He hated orcs. He needed to take his frustration out on something. “Be ready.”

He crept behind a tree. It was a small tree, but a tree nonetheless. He placed his hands on it and began to push with the might of the bracers.

“Hurk!”

The roots popped from the ground, and the tree began to tilt toward the orcs. Fueled by mystic strength, Brenwar’s stout legs kept pressing. His face flushed. Sweat dripped from his nose. Roots ripped from the earth and the tree toppled over, crashing right behind the orcs. Brenwar moved into new cover.

The bewildered orcs sprang to either side of the branches with their crossbows ready. Brenwar could see the yellow in their eyes. The confusion. Where two had gathered, four more quickly came.

Six!

The orcs were big, greenish, and layered in scars and muscles. Their hair sprang out in greasy black tangles. They fanned out and began a search.

Brenwar caught Pilpin’s stare and nodded. The little dwarf waddled out of his hiding spot and banged together his axes.

“Greetings, uglies!”

Clatch-Zip!

Clatch-Zip!

Crossbow bolts rocketed through the air and splintered on Pilpin’s axe blades and chest plate. Brenwar burst from his spot and clocked the nearest orc in the chest with War Hammer. It sailed from its feet and into the next tree.

Clatch-Zip!

Clatch-Zip!

Two bolts whizzed by Brenwar’s bearded face.

Clatch-Zip!

The third buried itself inside his leathered thigh.

“Ya shouldn’t have done that!” Brenwar yelled. He ripped the bolt out of his thigh and advanced. The orcs tossed their crossbows and went for their swords. Brenwar closed the gap, swinging.

Pow!

One orc left his boots.

Pow!

The second crumpled on the ground.

Brenwar scooped up a handful of dirt and rubbed it into his wound.

“That’ll do.”

***

What Pilpin lacked in size, he made up for with heart and speed. He rushed in between the pair of orcs that shot at them and chopped into their legs. The pair crashed into the ground and fumbled for the blades on their hips.

Hack! Hack!

Pilpin’s blades slashed fingers and hands. The orcs howled.

“No, no, no,” Pilpin said, wagging his index finger in their faces. “None of that now.”

One orc bit at him. The other punched with its fist.

Pilpin rapped the flats of his blades upside their heads, knocking them out cold.

The last standing orc stood between him and Brenwar. It eyed them both, raised its sword high with an alarming battle cry, and sprinted for the woods.

“Drat it all!” Brenwar roared. The barrel-chested dwarf wearing the mystic bracers swung War Hammer in the orc’s direction and let loose. His favorite weapon busted though the smaller trees and slammed into the back of the orc. It moved no more. “Bind them up,” Brenwar said, storming off to collect his hammer.

Pilpin unraveled some dwarven twine from his pack and bound the orcs together. Brenwar returned with an angry look on his face.

“What are you orcs doing here?”

Their bellies rumbled in hefty chuckles. Brenwar picked up one of their swords and rested it on his shoulder.

Pilpin had no idea what Brenwar was up to, but he had a feeling it might be painful.

“This is your leg and what I’m about to do to it,” Brenwar said to the orcs. He grasped the sword by both ends and started to bend it. The metal groaned and bent.

The orcs’ eyes widened.

“We’re scouts!” one blurted out. “We’re scouting!”

“I know yer scouts. Now, what are you scouting for?”

“Enemies of Barnabus. We hunt them down. Kill them.”

“Well,” Brenwar said, “yer doing a lousy job.” He clamped his hands down on both orcs’ shoulders and squeezed. “Tell me, what else does Barnabus have planned?”

The orcs’ faces flushed red. They squirmed in their seats.

“Burn. Destroy. Disrupt,” one said.

“Take the outer cities one by one,” said the other.

“Why the outer cities?”

The orcs clammed up.

Pilpin banged them on the knees.

“Speak up!”

Brenwar pressed his fingers harder through the armor.

One orc’s lips burst open and said, “‘So he cannot see,’ they say!”

“Who cannot see?” Brenwar shouted.

“The Dragon Prince!” said one.

“A fool he is,” said the other.

“Where is he?”

“With the High Priestess.”

“In Narnum.”

Brenwar clocked their heads together. His fingers combed through his beard. This was information he’d heard already, but he hadn’t believed it until now.

“Are we going to Narnum then?” Pilpin said.

“I don’t think we can do much good in Narnum. It’s the edge of the world I’m worried about.”

CHAPTER 7

Sansla Libor. The Roamer King. An elf cursed.

Shum was grateful for him.

On foot, Sansla led. His heavy feet landed softly on the grass, and the rest of the Roamers followed. Silent. A little in awe. The last time they’d encountered Sansla, he’d been more savage. Now, despite his appearance, he was more elflike.

They stopped at the edge of a stream, where many refilled their canteens. Sansla scooped water into his big paws and drank. The winged ape was a magnificent figure. Layered muscles bulged under his fur. He radiated power.

“Gather,” Sansla said.

The Roamers—over a score in number—hemmed in their king and took a knee.

“As you know, the Dragon King, Balzurth, has enlisted our aid in these dire times. Many of us were here for the previous dragon war. This one is to be the last.” Sansla’s wings fluttered and collapsed behind his back. “As before, we are to play a part in this, and our mission will be perilous. Barnabus and his evil continue to spread. The dark dragons thrive everywhere.

“In Elome, the elves battle the orcs, goblins, and gnolls all over the borders. The dragons aid the orcs. The Pool of the Dragons, the River Cities, the Settlement, and Borgash are all besieged. Deceived. The men of this world have put their faith in the Truce.”

Liam raised his fist and started to speak.

Sansla Libor shook his head, his ever-serene ape face contorted and strained. “We cannot aid them. We must focus on the heart of the matter.”

Liam gave his king a questioning look.

The strain on the ape’s face began to ease. “Our ancient enemy, Gorn Grattack the Transgressor, is behind all of this, and his vanquished spirit has taken form. We must search him out. He no longer walks in darkness but among us, roaming the dirt.”

The hairs on Shum’s neck rose.

The utterance of Gorn Grattack’s name was an incantation in itself. Most all of the races had banned the words, but now the evil words were out and let loose on Nalzambor.

“He is a dragon of many forms,” Sansla continued, “and we must look for the signs and be wary. He can consume any of us. Summon undead armies. Command dragons that bring wroth heat. He lies in wait, but his patience will run out. He must be found. We’ll search the world in pairs. I’ll go alone, however.” He cleared his throat. “My condition comes and goes, and I have other missions.”

“How will we know it’s him?” Liam asked.

“A chill, and you will know it.” Sansla’s wings fanned out. “I must go now, brothers. Call me when you find something.”

The wings beat, and the great ape lifted into the air. Moments later, he vanished into the night sky.

Shum nodded to his men. He was their leader. He stretched his limbs upward and began with the assignments.

“Pair up. Find aid in all creatures. Befriend our allies. Warn them of the dangers,” he said, clasping hands with each and every one. “May your steeds run like the wind.”

Within minutes, all of the Roamers had departed, except Hoven.

“What do you make of all this?” Shum said to his brother.

Hoven shrugged and said, “Well, at least the trees are not yet our enemies.”

“Most of them at least.” He called for his horse. The great steed trotted over to him. He mounted, eyeing the sky again. “Where do you think Sansla goes now?”

“He’s the king. Wherever he wants, I suppose.”

The Roamer King seemed strange to Shum. Sansla had been able to resurrect him, but he’d been unable to cure himself. Perhaps, Sansla had been unwilling. Maybe the Ocular of Orray only healed those who wanted to be healed. Perhaps Sansla had refused its aid. After all, Shum had mentioned it before.

Perhaps unwillingness is Nath Dragon’s issue.

As they rode, Shum had Nath heavy on his thoughts. The Dragon Prince was the key to everything, and now he stood in the company of evil, willingly. In the meantime, it seemed every city in Nalzambor was hostage to the Truce. If Nath broke it, many would die. But in Shum’s heart, breaking this false truce would be the right thing to do.

People have fought and won their freedom before. And what is life without freedom? I hope Nath Dragon realizes that soon.

CHAPTER 8

Bayzog sat in front of his fireplace with the Elderwood Staff in his lap, violet eyes glaring into the fire. He was infuriated. The woman, tall and shady, had offered little news. All she had said was that Sasha, Rerry, and Samaz were doing well. She had told him to be patient and they’d be returned soon. That had been three days ago. He’d been fuming ever since.

“Pah!” he said. Pah indeed.

“Can we not depart, search them out,” Ben said, “and return unnoticed? Certainly you have something inside your spellbook.”

Bayzog didn’t respond. There were such spells, but at the moment, he didn’t even know where to begin his search. And it was risky. He needed to put his faith in the dragonettes, for now.

He let his own powers merge with those of the Elderwood Staff. Mystic energy coursed through his veins. There was nothing he’d rather do than turn that garden for acolytes into a pile of ash right now.

“How much longer can you trust them?” Ben said, scratching the trim beard on his face. “I hope you’re not thinking five years. My bones get sore as these days wear on. I’m not an elf.”

“We’ll see,” Bayzog muttered. “The rendezvous is within the year. If we don’t arrive, well, our friends will know something is awry.”

“I want to be there,” Ben said. “I want to see who shows up. For all we know, the dragons have hunted Brenwar and all the Roamers down.”

“We’ll have to get word to them or of them by some other means. However, for now, all I guess we can do is wait.” Bayzog looked to Ben. “Go into town. Enjoy yourself.”

Ben slumped down on the sofa and propped his feet on the table.

“When you start enjoying yourself, I’ll start enjoying myself.”

***

Sasha stirred. Cold and dirty, clothes in tatters, she lay on the cold dirt floor in the dimness of indirect moonlight. She and her sons had been sitting inside this large cave for days. Lizardmen and acolytes kept watch on them, and something else. A draykis. One of the most horrible creatures she’d ever seen. An abomination of man and dragon. It called the shots now.

She struggled into a sitting position with her metal-clad hands fastened to her waist. Her ankles were also bound. Both her sons lay still, resting. The cave mouth opened to the starry night sky with its full moon, and against it, all she could see were the silhouettes of the lizardmen who guarded the entrance with spears. Her stomach groaned. Little food. Little water. Little comfort. That was life now. Each new day miserable.

She scooted toward her sons. Rerry moaned as she bumped him. She could see the swelling on his face in the dimness. He and Samaz had attempted another escape days earlier. They had taken down two lizardmen and three clerics when the draykis appeared. It had struck hard. Fast. Ferocious. The boys’ skills could not prevail against it.

All was lost again.

But the excitement! That brief feeling of freedom had charged her blood.

Anger now pumped inside her chest. The draykis would pay for her sons’ suffering!

Her eyes rested on Samaz. His heavy chest rose and fell. He coughed and sputtered a little. He’d taken as many lumps as Rerry. The brothers, though at odds, fought like wild tigers for each other and their mother.

She shuddered a sigh.

She curled up between them, lay down, and closed her eyes, absorbing the warmth between them.
I might not have a rock to my name, but I have them, and that’s everything I need.
Her heavy lids began to close.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Her eyes snapped open. Something gnawed on something somewhere.

Rats!

She jerked and shimmied. A yellow glimmer caught her eye. A tiny creature gnawed at the bonds on her feet. No bigger than a mouse, it had tiny wings and bright yellow eyes.

Her heart leapt inside her chest.

A dragon!

Its little claws sawed through her bonds. It let out a dragony squeak.

Sasha gazed down at her metal-clad and tethered hands.

Its wings buzzed to life, and it floated over to Samaz’s feet. A second tiny dragon, cherry colored, joined it. In seconds, the cords were cut and Samaz’s feet were free.

The gnawing continued at her wrists. The cords snapped at her waist, and she freed her arms.

The two continued to the cords on Rerry’s ankles. The boys woke, blurry eyes filled with wonder. The two tiny dragons sat in front of them and started marching toward the front of the cave.

“What do we do?” Rerry whispered.

The dragons stopped and turned. The red one let out a tiny roar then turned and marched onward again, straight for the guards at the cave entrance.

Meanwhile, a third tiny dragon, cobalt in color, landed on one of Sasha’s metal gloves. It spat a glowing blue substance onto the metal, which dissolved.

Before the tiny blue dragon even landed on her other hand, Sasha pressed her newly bared hand into the dirt. As she at last tapped into the world’s arcane energies, exhilaration rushed through her. After a while, she stood up and whispered, “Let’s go.”

Silently, they crept toward the silhouetted lizardmen at the cave entrance.

The tiny dragons buzzed in front of the lizardmen, who tried to shoo them away.

Rerry sprang behind one, Samaz the other. Rerry slipped the lizardman’s sword from its scabbard and chopped it down. Samaz pounced on the other’s neck and choked it to the ground. It was quiet. It was quick. It wasn’t without notice.

A bolt of power blasted into the cave rock, singeing Rerry’s hair. Sasha’s eyes locked on the lead acolyte. His head glowed, and his eyes blazed with fire. Lizardmen rushed up the slopes. Acolytes muttered and moaned. Sasha understood their ways. They channeled energy into the small, ghostly leader in plum robes.

We’ll see about that!

Raising her hands above her head, she flipped her fingertips out. Bright shards of blue light sprayed from her hands and cut through the mass of men. The leader howled in rage and flung an arc of power up the hill. It slammed into the three of them, lifting them from their feet and back into the cave.

***

Dazed, Rerry shook off the blow and popped back on his feet. Steel swords from the guards filled both his hands, and he twirled them with grace and ease. Two more lizardmen arrived at the mouth of the cave.

“Ah, what a pleasant surprise,” he said. “Dying lizardmen.”

The lizardmen lunged with barbed spears.

Rerry hopped high over them and struck, sinking his blades in one chest each.

“So nice to meet you.”

***

Samaz rolled past a lizardman’s lunging sword. Catching it by the wrist, he wrenched the blade free, cranked up the pressure, and broke its wrist. The lizardman’s large mouth of sharp teeth snapped at him. Samaz drove his boot heel into its jaw and laid it out on the ground.

The second lizardman sliced at his head. Samaz crouched beneath the decapitating blade and launched both fists into the soft spot in the lizardman’s belly. The swords dropped from its hands, and its jaw fell wide open. Samaz roundhouse kicked it in the jaw and watched it collapse on its nose.

***

Acolytes and lizardmen fell. The dragonettes swarmed. Bright sparks of lightning and lancing acid burned through robes and skin. Smoke from the red one caused sluggishness and confusion. Though tiny, their attacks were nevertheless a whirlwind of terror unleashed on evil.

***

Sasha rushed down the slope with power-filled hands. The greasy acolyte greeted her with his own power. Mystic forces collided. Weak and starved, Sasha fell to her knees. The haunting man cackled.

Sasha swayed on the ground and watched the man come closer.

“I do have to keep you alive,” he said, “but only barely. Let’s have some fun, shall we?” He raised his arms in the air—

Sasha sprang to her feet and locked her fingers around his neck.

“Yes, let’s have some fun, shall we?”

She channeled her sorceress energies. The veteran acolyte twisted and fought. His hands locked on her wrists, burning them. Sasha held on.

“No you don’t!”

A torrent of energy coursed through her.

The acolyte gaffed. His eyes shone like moons. His body stiffened, cracked, and turned ashen.

Sasha shoved him away. His body fell and broke into pieces.

Gasping, she searched for her sons. The first thing she saw was the draykis. Armored to the neck in heavy metal, horns twisting on its head, it engaged her sons once again. Rerry’s blades glanced away. Samaz’s punches and kicks were futile. The dragonettes were discharging everything they had. Nothing slowed it.

It struck hard.

Rerry fell.

Fast.

Samaz collapsed.

It flicked the dragonettes away and faced off on Sasha.

“Don’t you hurt my sons again!” Sasha said.

It cocked its head and strolled right at her with a demonic look in its eyes.

She summoned everything she had left, lifted her arms over her head, and unleashed it at him.

The draykis stopped.

Nothing happened.

The draykis laughed and came right at her again. She sagged to her knees.

Rerry came. Samaz came.

The draykis pounded them down with supernatural strength.

Crying out, Sasha rushed over and covered her boys.

“It’s too late for them,” the draykis said. “It’s too late for all of you.”

The tiny citrine dragonette blasted lightning in its face.

“Argh!”

The draykis swatted it away.

“Fleas! Be gone! I have death to deliver to these other feisty ones.”

Its sword scraped from its scabbard. The metal glinted in the moonlight.

“For Barnabus,” it said, raising the sword up high.

A shadow dropped from the sky.

Whump!

A cherry-scaled dragon landed behind the draykis. The draykis was to it as a dog is to a horse. The draykis spun and struck. Its steel glanced off the dragon’s armored belly. Fast as a snake, the dragon’s maw clamped over the draykis entirely. Metal and bone crunched. The draykis squirmed then squirmed no more. The crimson dragon slung the mangled corpse into the dirt. Fire surged from its mouth. It disintegrated every evil being in the camp.

Sasha gaped when the dragon turned to her. Its belly was a lighter shade of red, and it had small twisting horns and long black eyelashes. “Th-Thank you,” Sasha managed to say.

The dragon dug its claw into the earth and made a circle with two slashes through it. Sasha knew that symbol. Bayzog had shown it to her before. A thrill rushed through her. It was the sign of Balzurth, the Dragon King.