The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) (23 page)

CHAPTER 4

I felt something burning in my stomach and projecting from my mouth. The big bat screeched in the sky. I let out a sonic signal. The big bat was engulfed in flames and plummeting toward the ground. I could smell it burning―its hair, its wings―as I dove after it.
Where did that flame come from? Did it come from me
?

My mouth was hot, and I could taste the bitterness of sulfur on my tongue. Below me, the burning bat crashed into a rooftop.
Yes!
What kind of bat am I, anyway?
I’d never seen a fire-breathing bat before. I swooped up into the sky where the other bats waited and let out a screech of triumph. I felt another streak of flames shoot from my mouth into the sky. I sent out another sonic signal, and all the bats were gone. I’d won.

I could hear shouts and cries from below and had visions of stubby fingers pointing into the sky. I flapped my way past the walls of Morgdon, over and beyond where the green grass grows, and flew through the night, exhausted, until I could fly no more.

***

I awoke to find myself in a very cramped cave with the new day's light creeping in.

“Sunken Sulfur! Where am I? Where are my arms and legs?”

I could see again, but I couldn’t move a thing. It was as if I’d been nailed inside a coffin. I struggled and strained, wiggling my shoulder loose then my arm and leg.

“Ah… I’m whole again,” I said, crawling out of the cramped cave. “Whoa!” I tumbled down a rocky hillside and went crashing into the hard ground below. “Stupid!”
What was I thinking, turning into a bat? I almost got myself killed. And being blind wasn’t any fun at all.
Next time I changed, it would be into something else, but I had to admit: all the flying was incredible.

I dusted myself off, and to my relief, everything was intact: my sword, my bow, and even my pack. You have to like magic like that, which transforms not only you but everything you carry as well. “Thank goodness.”

Above me, the sun was rising, and Morgdon was nowhere in sight. The last thing I remembered was flying as far and fast as I could, putting the Festival of Iron far behind. Guilt crept into me, however, about leaving Brenwar behind. I knew he’d be mad, but I also knew that he didn’t understand. He was a dwarf; I was part dragon, part man. He’d just have to understand.

I coughed. The inside of my stomach churned like a pot of boiling lava, and the taste of sulfur was still inside my mouth.

Smacking my lips, I said, “That tastes horrible.” I stuck a finger in my mouth, feeling around, certain I’d find a piece of charred wood inside there. What had happened, anyway? Could bats breathe fire? Impossible.

I coughed again. No smoke. No fire. Doing my best impression of a dragon, I forced out a roar of air. Nothing came out.

“Hmmm… perhaps it was a side of effect of the potion,” I said to myself. That happens, you know. I shrugged it off. It was time to go, but where to? I stretched my arms and legs and raked my fingers through my hair.

“Freedom!” I yelled, stirring the birds in the trees. “Ha-Ha-Ha-Ha!”

I ran! Long legs cutting through the woodland like a wild stag’s, I ran hard and long, with nowhere in mind to go. I was free. Not that I’d been a slave, but without Brenwar tagging along, I was liberated. Too often, he'd slow me down and nag.

“Quit looking at your arm.”

“Focus, Dragon. Focus.”

“Slow down.”

“I need ale.”

“Did I ever tell you about the time I killed an ettin?”

It wasn’t all that bad, most of the time, but there was nothing like being alone without anyone to answer to. I could do what I wanted now, and I was going to. This time, I was going to rescue many dragons on my own.
I think that might better help my cause
.

I ran several leagues before I came to a stop beneath a shady tree and took a seat. Wind in my hair, civilization long from sight, I had all the peace and quiet I had ever wanted.

“Ah, now this is the life!”

Finger on the white-scaled spot in the middle of my dragon hand, I found relief.

“I guess it’s all right to kill bats, then.” And why wouldn’t it be? After all, that bat had been picking on me. I tapped my fist on my chest as another fit of coughing began, but the taste of sulfur in my mouth was gone. “Finally! That’s much better.” I took a pull from the canteen in my pack.

It was midday now, and I had a lot on my mind. Where was I going to go to find the dragons? And I didn’t want to find just one. I wanted to find several at a time. I knew they were out there and that the most likely spot was one of the Clerics of Barnabus temples that were scattered and hidden throughout the world.

“Not a good idea,” I said, rubbing my scales on my dragon arm. Such a fascinating thing it was. I tried to imagine what it would look like in white. “If I were a careless dragon, where would I go? Hmmmm.” I also wanted to get as much distance between me and Morgdon as possible, and I had to think about that as well.
If Brenwar came after me, where would he think I’d go?
Nalzambor is a very large place, with each major city several hundred leagues from the others.

The Free City of Narnum was the closest and filled with the most trouble, the kind I like, that is. Pretty faces from all the other places gather there in celebration.

The Home of the Elves, Elomehorrahahn, or Elome for short, is a fantastic place hidden in the mist and trees. Their surrounding forests are well guarded as they like their privacy, and as far as I knew, they didn’t meddle with dragons. They were jealous is what I always figured.

Thraag, or Thraagramoor, the home of the orcs, is simply too smelly to go near. I’d had my fill for a while in Orcen Hold.

That left Morgdon, which I had to avoid, and Quintuklen, where I hadn’t been for a while. The humans lived there, and I’d had some friends there. Perhaps it was time I checked with some. I missed their colorful ways and wonderful things. The humans had the most zeal for life compared to all the others—simply put, because they didn’t live so long. They gave "living life to the fullest" new meaning, and I could relate to them better than to the rest. Especially now, when I had a sense of urgency within me.

But Quintuklen was a long way off, and I could probably rescue a dozen dragons by the time I got there. But there were many men and women in that city that knew an awful lot about dragons. Humans had poachers as well. Wizards, clerics, sages―many of them with questionable character―wanted the dragons, our magic, and the secrets that we held.

I could hear Brenwar's voice in my head as if he was here saying, “There’s nothing but troubles and temptation for you in the cities.” I sighed. I was focused. I could handle those distractions now if need be.

And of course, there were still all the small cities, towns, and villages spread out and in between. I would just head that way first.

“Perhaps I should buy a horse.”

I had a long, long way to go.

***

By nightfall, I’d made it to a small town called Quinley, a thriving farming community. The buildings were well constructed, the people amiable but wary. I respected their hard-working kind, but I was certain they didn’t care for a stranger like me. I fit in like a shiny button on a potato-sack shirt. Not that they were dirty, but grubby from all their hard work. I almost opted to remain outside to avoid the stares, but the steady rain convinced me otherwise, so I entered. My coins were as good as any, and I was certain they wouldn’t mind my business, so inside the nearest establishment I went.

My stomach growled as the scent of hot food aroused my senses. I could taste the roasted lamb and baked rolls in my mouth already. One thing about the well-fed people in the countryside: nobody made better buttered bread―and the vegetables were always fresh and delicious. Patting my tummy, I smiled as I walked in, keeping my dragon arm concealed under my cloak.

“Can I help you, er, sir?” the innkeeper asked. He was tall and lean with a nice head of brown hair, for a man. He wore overalls underneath his apron and had a white scar on his clean-shaven chin. It was probably from some sort of farming accident as a child. He seemed all right, but his eyes were busy.

“I need food and a room for the night,” I said.

“Eh,” he started, wiping his greasy fingers on his apron, “we don’t have any more rooms.”

He was lying. There was no one else on the floor except me, him, and a table where a young couple sat. A pair of passersby like me, judging by their traveling cloaks and boots. They eyed me. I eyed them back until they turned away. I looked the innkeeper square in the eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t have any rooms? I’d hate to think I came all this way, to the wonderful town of Quinley, home of the finest carrots and heifers, only to find they don’t have any rooms. Perish the thought!”

The innkeeper showed me a toothy smile as he leaned back and I leaned forward.

“Er… it’s true.”

The innkeeper jumped as I rapped my knuckles on the bar.

“Well that’s just horrible!” I said. And it really was, for him, because I was starting to get mad. I didn’t like it when people lied, and it was even worse when they did it without batting an eye. Something strange, very strange was going on in Quinley. But that wasn’t any of my business. Getting some hot food and a dry room was. I continued.

“And I suppose you are out of
food,
too?”

The innkeeper nodded his head.

A comely older woman emerged from the kitchen with two plates full of hot food. She stumbled as she saw me, eyes blinking, as she plopped the meals onto the couple's table. The woman turned toward me, pushed her hair back, straightened her shoulders, and smiled before casually making her way back to the kitchen. I smiled back and waved. Then I turned my attention back to the innkeeper.

“I suppose that was your last meal… eh, innkeeper?”

Palms up, he shrugged, smiled, and said, “Y-Yes.”

LIAR!

Now, I was hungry. Really, really hungry. And tired. I wanted food and a room, and they were going to give them to me.
Liar, liar, britches on fire!
And all those years, I'd thought the country folk were nice.

“What are you eating over here?” I said, walking over to the other travelers. “Smells good!” Something was wrong here. Why would they serve this ordinary man and woman but not me? Sure, I had beautiful gold eyes and a wonderful mane of auburn hair, on the frame of an extraordinary man, but that’s no reason to exempt me. Is it?

“Go away,” the man said, hand falling to a small dagger at his side. “Just passing through, and we don’t want any trouble.”

“I don’t want any trouble either, my friends. But I really don’t want to sleep in the rain.” I turned back to the Innkeeper. “Or on an empty stomach!”

A silence fell over the room. I could sense the innkeeper didn’t want any trouble, but I was certain he’d seen stranger men than me before. There were many other races that had come into this place. I could tell by all the unique objects that decorated the walls: elven shoes, a dwarven shovel, and even the two-pronged forks of the orcs.

The waitress returned, a swagger in her hips, a smile on her lips, and a bowl of soup with a biscuit in her hands.

“Jane, no,” the innkeeper warned, reaching for her.

Dipping her shoulder and shuffling over to me, she nodded and said, “Take this quick, and go.”

I took the bowl from her and said, “Thank you, but why?”

She stared up at me and said nothing as she licked her lips.

That happens sometimes.

“Jane is it?” I said. “That’s a pretty blouse you’re wearing, and your eyes and ears, so pretty. Are you part elven?”

She blushed.

“No, none at all.”

“Jane! Get back in the kitchen! You're causing trou—”

Two large men pushed through the door, each soaked from head to toe. One cursed the rain, the other shouted out loud.

“Ale! Food! Now, innkeeper. It’s a lousy night, so it better be good. And none of that watered-down brew you have, either.”

“You should have gone,” Jane whispered. “It’s not safe here.” She scurried back to the kitchen.

Behind me, the couple were taut as bowstrings, heads down, chewing quietly.

I had the feeling they weren’t expecting these men’s company.

“As you wish, enforcers,” the innkeeper said, fixing two tankards. “Right away!”

The men tossed their cloaks on a rack in the corner. Thick shouldered and heavy, each wore steel on his hip: sword and dagger. Strong chinned, beady eyed, and rugged, they had the look of enforcers. It seemed the friendly farm city of Quinley was under control of an unfriendly element. They were the kind that riled me.

Sluuuu-urp!

“Mmmm… that’s good soup,” I said. “You should try some, fellas.”

Both men perked up, big hands falling to their swords. I don’t think they were accustomed to anyone else’s voice in the room, especially one as deep and rich as mine. They looked at each other and then at the innkeeper, and one said, “I told you not to welcome any strangers.”