The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) (89 page)

CHAPTER 9

Finlin the satyr kept his joy to himself.

I love it when she makes mistakes.

He tossed a small, rough sack over his shoulder and belted his scabbard around his waist. He carried two daggers only and kept his pipes tied close to his neck. The rest of the camp bustled with activity, and the march to seize another city began. One hundred motivated soldiers of Barnabus in heavy gear and arms moved through the hills like an invincible python. The draykis could be seen positioning themselves in the fore and middle of the ranks. Their eyes were alert and their commands not subtle.

“Perhaps you should tell them,” Finlin suggested to his sister.

She clenched her fist in his face.

“I said not a word of this.”

The pair remained behind. Quiet. Faylan toyed with her hair and chewed on her lip. She didn’t like to make mistakes. In the case of their capturing Nath Dragon, neither one of them could be certain who that really was.

“Well, perhaps it was him. Maybe his hair is just different. I don’t see how you could have suspected anything different.” He tried to sound reassuring. “Whoever it was, it fooled everyone. Even the draykis. I’m proud of you, Sister.”

“Oh, shut it, you little horned toad.” She punched him in the arm. “I don’t need your reassurance. I just need you to keep your mouth closed and do as you’re told. I’ll deal with the High Priestess if the time comes. And you will not admit to knowing anything otherwise.” She patted the dagger on her chin. “I’d hate to think my brother would turn on his sister.”

“No, never,” he said.

“Good,” she said, trotting away, “Idiot.”

Watching her go, Finlin entertained two schools of thought. If the High Priestess discovered what they had hidden, they’d both be punished. He was certain it would be a fatal thing. Another thought occurred to him as well.
If we are caught, no doubt my sister will turn on me.
He noted the draykis heads towering among the ranks. The hulking dragon-like humanoids should have known if they’d captured someone other than Nath Dragon.
Wouldn’t they have said something?
Maybe they had kept quiet about it, wanting Faylan to fail. No one really liked her that much, particularly the draykis. After all, she controlled them. A stubby, goat-legged woman ordering such renowned monsters around couldn’t sit too well.

Finlin caught up with the ranks and walked alongside. The faces of the races were far from pleasant. Hard, grim, mean, and not a smile among them. Metal rattled on their shoulders and hips. A sizable force to take over a small town or city.

When we take over, I wonder what happens after that. What kind of reward is in it for the likes of us?

He thought of his home at the Crater. He longed to be back there.

If only I could slip away without notice. The smell of this army is becoming alarming.

He trotted toward the front and caught up with his sister.

“Shall I scout ahead?” he asked.

She frowned at him and said, “Be back by dusk and not a crack of light later.”

***

“They move,” a dwarf said, reporting back to Pilpin. It was Horn Bucket. He had a rusty beard and half an arm left on one side. “Southeast and winding toward the villages. A strong force, and those oversized lizards are with them.” He adjusted his wooden helmet with the elk horns sticking from it. “Shall I head back out?”

“Come with me,” Pilpin said.

They’d been keeping a close eye on the satyrs and the small army, probing for opportunities and weaknesses. So far, nothing had presented itself, but it was only a matter of time. The dwarves had a saying, “If it’s not dwarven, then it has a weakness.” A motley army of the wicked races couldn’t be cohesive. Especially under the lead of a woman satyr. But they were strong. Merciless. They’d pummeled town after town with iron gauntlets.

Back at their camp, Devliik accepted the news and gathered all his men.

“Smaller bands of dwarves have taken greater numbers,” he said, thumbing the blade of his axe. “But it’s those draykis I’m concerned about. At the moment, we are outmatched by them. Their skin is thick as steel.” He huffed. “It’s the satyrs we want to extract, but once we do, we’ll have the entire army after us.”

“Better they come after us than after the next village,” Pilpin said. “A good thing.”

“Aye,” Horn Bucket added.

“I agree,” Devliik said, “and we ride, but they don’t.”

“Perhaps they won’t miss the satyrs if we take them,” Pilpin suggested. “And the one seems to control those draykis. Perhaps if we finish her, we can finish them. Or scatter them maybe.”

“How far to the next settlement?” Devliik asked.

“At their rate,” Horn Bucket said, “I’d say four days. Six if they move toward a greater city, and they’re more than capable of taking one. They’re slow, but they’re in no hurry, either.”

“Death is never in a rush,” Devliik said.

“And what of that dragon?” Pilpin said. They’d witnessed Gorlee being snatched away by a great dragon. It was part of the reason they needed to follow the satyrs: in order to find out what had become of him. “What if it comes back?”

“We just better get this done before it does come back,” Devliik said, “or there might be a toasty grave for all of us.”

CHAPTER 10

The dragon tore through the brush and barreled toward Bayzog. It was a young grey scaler but bigger than two men put together. Its claws tore through the dirt and brush, and its mouth opened to roar.

Nath went for Fang.

Twang! Zip!

An arrow streaked into its neck, cutting off its roar.

It reared up.

Twang! Zip!

Another arrow stuck in its belly.

The dragon thrashed on the ground, its tail swiping around. Nath leapt over the tail and brought his sword down. The dragon moved no more.

Sadness overcame Nath. His heart was grieved. He kneeled down and closed the dragon’s eyes.

“There is no other way,” Brenwar said, stepping up behind his shoulder. “It’s us or them.”

“I’m not supposed to kill my kind,” Nath replied, holding back tears. “I’m not supposed to kill at all. What have I done?”

“We’re at war,” Brenwar said.

Nath looked back at Brenwar and said, “Do dwarves kill dwarves? Do elves kill elves?”

“It happens. We all squabble and skirmish,” Brenwar reminded him, “and it’s a shameful thing when it happens. And this isn’t the first time. Dragons have fought and killed dragons before. I was there when the last war happened.”

Nath sighed. He knew the stories. The history. The tragedy. There had always been good and bad dragons. He’d spent a lifetime trying to rescue both. In the case of the grey scalers, there was little good in them, but that didn’t mean they weren’t worth saving.

He got up and said, “Ben, you’ll need those moorite arrows.” He tilted his head and listened. If more grey scalers were coming, he didn’t hear them. “We’d better get moving.” He took a lasting look at the dead dragon.
How many more have to die before this is over?
He got on his horse. “Let’s go.”

***

For the better part of the day, they rode through the forest with solemn expressions. Nath could feel the weight of the war that was upon them. His goal was to do anything in his power to prevent that. If he could, he would redeem himself.

The splinter in his ribs bit into him. He grimaced.

“You all right, Nath?” Bayzog said.

He nodded.

“It’s that wound from Egdon. It hasn’t healed, has it?” Bayzog said with a concerned look.

“Just a splinter. It won’t slow me down.”

“I’m not concerned that it will slow you.”

“Then what is your concern?” Nath said.

“The Dragon Skinner blades don’t splinter,” Bayzog said, “and that cursed blade left a mark inside you. I told you, that poison can lead to the heart.”

Nath could still feel the blade that Overlord Dormus had struck him with. He’d almost died from it.

“I just don’t think the wound is fully healed.”

“You are a dragon, Nath,” Bayzog said, “and I’ve never seen you slow to heal.”

“It was a fatal strike,” Nath said.

“So it was,” Bayzog said with a smile. “And I’m glad you are still with us. Just make sure you stay focused, Nath. We’ve been through much, but the most dangerous part is what lies ahead.”

“I hope the Floating City will provide some answers. Give us an edge. We need it.”

“Agreed, but I have no idea what to expect.”

Thunder rumbled overhead, and the sound of rain pelting the leaves in the forest followed.

“Good,” Nath said. “This will make it harder for them to find us.”

Ahead, Ben covered himself with his cloak, and Bayzog did the same. Brenwar sat like a rock in his saddle with rain dripping off his beard.

He’s bearded iron.

Brenwar had stayed by his side during his best and worst days. Stalwart. Loyal. Nath had been with him so long, he’d taken his friend for granted. Had Brenwar ever taken him for granted? He couldn’t remember the dwarf ever doing so. There were times he wished he could be more like Brenwar.
“Dwarves do what must be done.”
Nath never understood why he couldn’t live by that motto. It might have put an end to all the orcs if he had.

Ah, Father, it’s so hard to tell when I’m right and when I’m wrong sometimes. I guess that’s why Brenwar is here. To remind me.
He rubbed Fang’s pommel.
And you too. Make sure I get it right.

CHAPTER 11

The bugbear slung the axe over his head.

Gorlee’s thoughts raced.

They’re really going to cut off my hands! No! I can’t let that happen!

The axe crested.

Instinct took over. His body shrank and shifted.

The axe came down in a flash.

He jerked his wrists out of the shackles.

Chok!

The axe stuck into the block of wood.

A collective gasp followed.

Gorlee twisted from his aggressors and slipped his feet from his shackles. Gasps and exclamations followed.

“What is this treachery?” the triant yelled. “Where is he?”

Gorlee, smaller than a child, dove between the legs of one man and darted through another’s.

“There he is!”

“He shrank!”

“Get him!”

“Kill him!”

Dirty fingers clutched at him. Jabbed and poked at him. The frenzied throng piled on top of him, shouting and encouraging one another.

“I’ve got him!”

“No! I’ve got him!”

Gorlee kept changing. Squirming. Growing.

Figure this one out, you smelly warthogs!

“I lost him!” Gorlee said. “I lost him! There he is!” He grabbed someone by the leg and pulled them down. “That’s not him!”

Others murmured and groaned.

“Where did he go?”

“He’s gone!”

One by one, the pile of the doomed people stood up and looked around. Their dirty faces were blank and confused. Gorlee stood among them, a lizard man now.

The triant eyed each and every one of them. His face was confused and angry. He snatched Gorlee’s shackles and banged them on the floor.

“Search this place! Every cave! Every tunnel!”

All the prisoners scurried. Gorlee played along.

It worked! At least for now it did.

He followed the others and assisted in the search. Tunnels led up and down the catacombs. New faces turned up. Old, dead ones, too. There were tombs and bones. Many dark and unknown places. For hours they searched, but with every passing hour, Gorlee’s belly felt worse.

What did that woman feed me?

He found an abandoned cave that they’d searched earlier, crawled inside, and lay down.
I just need to rest.
His belly moaned, and his eyes became very heavy.
Rest for a little while.
He shifted his skin into a rocky form, yawned, and fell fast asleep.

***

“Wake up!”

Gorlee blinked.

“Wake up!”

He sat up straight.

He was back in the large chamber, surrounded. The triant stood nearby with his arms crossed over his chest in triumph. Gorlee’s shackles were draped over his thick neck.

“Did you enjoy your nap?”

Gorlee rubbed his blurry eyes. He felt like he’d slept for more than a week. And he didn’t feel right.

“I could have used a little more time,” he said, gathering his feet under him. “What did you wake me for, anyway? Is it dinnertime?” He eyed the crowd. The bugbear with the axe wasn’t around.
That’s a good thing.

“You’ve been either hiding or sleeping for days. We just found you, now that you turned.”

Gorlee checked his arms. The dragon scales were gone. His skin showed: a hairless, soft pink with tiny little scales like a lizard.
Great Guzan! I’m me!

“What are you?” the triant demanded.

Did he say days? I’ve been asleep that long? And I turned?

“I’m a triant,” Gorlee said. “I’m just not all brawny and big.”

The triant stormed forward and flicked him in the head.

Gorlee’s head rocked back.

“I’ve had quite enough of your humor,” Bletver the triant said. “Now tell me what you are.”

Gorlee eyed the moorite chains around Bletver’s saggy neck.

“I said I’m a triant!” Gorlee yelled. He felt better. Whatever he’d eaten had passed. His belly no longer moaned, and he felt good, despite being a little hungry.

The crowd made angry howls. He could feel them wanting to tear him apart.

“Don’t believe me? I’ll show you!” Gorlee summoned his power. He started to grow and transform. Seconds later, he stood eye to eye with Bletver the triant. He was an exact duplicate of the monster. “Now do you realize how ugly you are?”

Bletver gawped and stepped back.

“How did you—”

Gorlee drew back and punched Bletver in the face.

Pop!

Bletver’s head rocked back, and he fell to the cavern floor. He got up and snarled.

“You dare!”

“I do!”

Bletver lowered his shoulder and charged.

Gorlee caught the full force of the triant, and the two rolled around wrestling, punching, and kicking.

The crowd of prisoners urged the two triants on.

Bletver punched him in the belly and slugged him in the jaw.

Gorlee drove an elbow into Bletver’s ribs, stood, and flipped the triant over his shoulder.

It had been a long time since Gorlee had been in a fight, but he knew plenty of moves. He sidestepped a punch and then countered.

Crack!

Bletver’s body shook. The triant’s strength was great, his endurance endless. Fires stoked behind Bletver’s beady eyes.

“You think you can take me?” Bletver retorted. He closed in. His great arms flailed like hammers.

Whop! Pow! Crack! Boom!

Gorlee felt every bit of it and staggered around the floor.

“You are no fighter!” Bletver said, throwing a haymaker.

Gorlee blocked it with his arms and winced.

“You are a hopeless imitator.”

Wham! Wham! Wham!

Gorlee dropped to a knee. The prisoners went wild. His chest heaved, and drops of sweat splattered on the ground. His chin dipped down in his chest.
This fighting is exhausting.
He huffed.
I’m tired.

“Don’t you know that the only way to stop a triant is to kill it?” Bletver said, gloating over Gorlee. “I’m putting a stop to you, imitator.” He raised both fists over his head and brought them down with all his might.

Gorlee’s hands shot up and caught Bletver’s wrists.

“Still have some fight in you, I see,” the triant said, leering down at him. He drove his foot into Gorlee’s gut.

“Oooof!”

A second later, Bletver was on Gorlee’s back, wrapping the moorite chains around his neck.

Gorlee was choking. He tugged at the chains.

No! No! I’m not going to die like this!

Bletver heaved on the chains.

The prisoners went into a frenzy.

Gorlee’s eyes bulged out of their sockets. He strained against his bonds.

Enough of this!

He summoned all of his power.

“Eh!” Bletver cried out. “What’s this?”

Gorlee’s body popped, cracked, and grew even bigger. His head almost hit the top of the cavern, and he slung Bletver off his back like a child. Twenty feet high he stood, and he was mad. Mad at the stink. Mad at the filth. But mostly he was mad at Bletver.

Bletver raised his arms and said, “Surely we can talk about this? Can’t we?”

Gorlee raised his foot and stomped it down on Bletver.

“NO!”

He picked him up and threw him into walls. Grabbed him again and stuffed him in a cave that was one size too small. Then Gorlee turned to the stunned crowd and said, “Anyone else want to tangle?”

They scattered like water off cats, leaving Gorlee alone in the great chamber. He nodded.

That felt good.
The snap of his fingers sounded like a clap of thunder.
I have an idea.

He left the chamber, headed back down the stairs, and followed the great tunnel below the well. He could see a faint light a thousand feet up. He peered around.

No phantom at the moment.

He hopped up into the tunnel with his enormous body and started to shimmy toward the top. Halfway up, darkness fell from above, and he found himself face to face with the phantom. He kept going anyway.