Clash of Heroes: Nath Dragon meets The Darkslayer (4 page)

CHAPTER 8

“Look,” Catten said. He was pointing at the corner of the cave. “It lives.”

The demon rose to his feet. His scorched chest plate was smoking. The expression on his face was grim. Anger surged in his golden eyes.

“I think you made it mad,” Catten added. “Perhaps you should apologize to it. Make amends.”

“Oran, do something with your transgressor,” Verbard ordered. The underling lord and his brother glided backward. “Quickly.”

Fascinating!

Oran couldn’t believe his fortune. It seemed the portal spell he and the brothers had cast had drained them quite a bit. They were vulnerable. If there was ever a time to strike them down, now would be the time.

If I weren't also so weak, I’d be done with the both of you!

The demon approached, one cautious step at a time. Less than a dozen feet away, he coiled down, ready to spring.

“Oran! Get this thing under control!”

No, I’d rather see you die.

Oran had read the scroll. He had the connection with the demon, and he should be able to control it. He felt its mind in his. It was angry. Confused. Lost.

Oh, I should let it pick up that blade and strike both of them down. That would be the end of their foul words. But unlike me, they’d be missed. Avenged. And it ... fascinates me
.

Oran cut in between the demon and the lords. “Halt.”

The redheaded creature stopped and stared at him with gold lava in his eyes. His huge, clawed hands clutched in and out. The sharp nails looked like spikes. Cords of muscle rippled underneath the black-scaled forearms. No doubt those arms were as powerful as a squeezing python.

Oran held his palms up and out, bowed, sat down and said, “Sit.”

The strange man eyed Verbard and shook his head.

“You have no control over it,” Verbard hissed. “None at all, you failure.”

“Give him a moment, will you, Brother?” Catten laughed at Verbard. “You are the source of all this agitation, and all because that little sword stung you.”

“Shut your mouth, Catten. This monster is dangerous and too hard to control. Look at him. That’s no ally to us. It’s an enemy. I tell you, it must be destroyed.”

“I can control it, Verbard,” Oran said. He pushed his sleeves up over his knobby elbows. “Just give me a moment.”

“Nay.” Verbard snapped his fingers.

Pop!

A small band of urchlings poured out of the nearest tunnel. They were smaller than Oran, barely four feet tall. Their bare backs were hunched over, and their limbs were filled with corded muscles. Teeth and claws were sharp as knives, and their black eyes underneath their thick and protruding brows were filled with hunger and evil.

“Urchlings?” Oran said with shock. “What kind of game are you playing, bringing along those savage little monsters?

Catten, to Oran’s surprise, spoke this time. “Perhaps we thought your monster would need feeding.”

“Give me a moment before you destroy all trust,” Oran argued.

But the lords would have none of it. This was obviously entertainment for them. Their eyes were filled with an avid and bloodthirsty curiosity.

He sprang to his feet. “End this now.”

“Mind your tongue, Oran. Or once this is over, I might have the urchlings tear it out.” Verbard fixed his eyes on the prize, the stranger from another world. “Besides, we need to see if this grotesque demon is worthy of this quest. If he lives, glory to you. If he dies, gory to me.”

“Oh, that was witty, Brother,” Catten said with a bob of his head. “'Gory to me.' How enchanting.”

***

Verbard pointed at Nath and let out a commanding chitter. “Kill.”

A dozen urchlings charged in a frenzied horde. Nath stretched out toward his sword that lay on the ground.

The blade flew straight into his hand.

Like a striking cobra, he swung.

Slice!

The first rank of urchlings died, torsos severed mid-section. The great blade struck hard and fast. The little monsters fell in ones and twos. They latched onto his arms and bit at his scales. Their teeth broke off, and they howled. Claws tore at his skin and tried to rip his red hair from his scalp.

He more than matched their fury with his own ferocity. Quicker. Stronger. Deadlier. He stomped them, cut them, pummeled them into submission. The floor was wet with their dark blood as well as his own, but less than a minute later, it was all over. He stood tall and easy.

The urchlings were cave-dog food.

***

Marveling at what he'd just seen, Oran rubbed his jaw and turned to Catten and Verbard.

They were gone.

His heart fluttered in his chest. It was just him and the demon holding the great sword coated in greasy urchling blood. Dry throat cracking, he said with command, “You must come with me.”

***

Uncertain of anything, but with his senses full of alarm, Nath surveyed the carnage. The creatures lay dead at his feet. Cruel and vile things. Evil. He didn’t understand it, but he knew it. The silver-eyed fiend that had attacked him was gone, along with the other. His shoulder muscles eased. The lone living person in the room seemed to be trying to befriend him somehow, and Nath was drawn to his words. The tones of the foreign words of the smallish rat-man, a child in comparison to him, were convincing.

What do I do?

Scanning the cave, he found no place to go. Instead, he stood and watched the odd little person gather an urn and scroll and place them in a chest. The chest rose from the dirt and floated after the jewel-eyed rat-man into the cave.

Toting his bloody sword, Nath, having no idea where to go or who to trust, followed Oran onto the small barge. Two total strangers from different worlds sailed the Current together.

CHAPTER 9

“You are quite adept, quite adept indeed,” Oran said to Nath.

The old pair were sitting at a table inside the underling's cave lair, leagues away from the Underland. Oran had been working with Nath, teaching him the common language of Bish. Nath had found just about everything within the lair disturbing and odd—the glass jars, huge and small, with heads from many races in them, on deep shelves. Potions and odd decanters. Oran, however, had little trouble explaining his experimentation. He just said, when asked, “That’s what I was created to do.”

“I can understand losing my memory,” Nath said to Oran, “but I don’t understand why I would lose my speech.”

Gaping, Oran said to him, “Marvelous. You spoke that so well. Why, I’ve never had such an apt pupil. Of course, it’s only natural that your common language would return so quickly.

My, this creature is smart. He memorizes everything I show him. If I could only somehow duplicate him.
Oh, an army of him! Now that would be something.

He pushed a burning candle toward Nath, looked at Nath’s arm, and said, “Do you mind?”

“Mind what?”

“Eh, holding your hand over the flame? For experimental purposes. I need to see how these scales hold up.”

Nath held his scaled hands over the flames. The orange-yellow glow licked around his fingers. He shrugged.

“That is marvelous, just marvelous.” Oran scurried away and returned with a small scalpel-like knife. “Take your hand out of the flame.”

Nath withdrew his arm. “What are you going to do with that?”

“Just be still.” Oran leaned over and sliced the scales on the summoned creature's forearm. The fine blade didn’t make a mark. “Did you feel that?”

“I felt it, but there was no discomfort.”

“I see. Let me try something else.” He held the scalpel up to Nath's cheek and cut a straight line.

“What was that for?” Nath said.

Oran wiped the laceration with his finger. The wound closed before his eyes. “Fascinating. My, you are a quick healer. Astounding.” He wiped the blood from his fingertip into a small vial and stowed it away on a nearby shelf.

“I don’t follow why you are surprised by these things. Did we not know each other before?” Nath got up from his stool and stretched his long limbs. “And how much longer do we need to be stuck inside this cave? I’m curious. Is there nothing to see other than the black water of this abyss?”

Oran made his way over to a rack of bottles stacked against the wall. He withdrew one, a wine bottle from the world of the races above. He found some metal goblets and poured two glasses of wine. He handed one to Nath. “Have a drink. Now that you’ve grasped the language, I’ll try to make this clear to you.”

Nath took the wine, sniffed it, and handed it back.

Oran set the goblets aside. He took Nath by the arm and led him over to a large sofa. It was plush and covered in soft red-and-purple patterns, with a fine view of the stagnant Current. “Please, sit.”

Nath obliged.

Oran felt another moment of triumph. He didn’t have complete control over the creature that sat beside him, but he had enough. Unlike most summoned creatures, this one operated with a will of its own. Very, very unique and otherworldly. But it was clear: Oran hadn't summoned some mindless monster but rather a person from elsewhere. Still, it was going to be difficult to earn the dragon man’s trust. Oran had his work cut out for him. Turning him into a weapon would take some convincing. He chose the thoughts he shared carefully.

“You are a hunter. A champion of our kind. The ultimate fighting machine,” he said.

Nath straightened up a little. “Really?”

“Yes.” Oran nodded solemnly. “We underlings live below the ground, hiding ourselves from the slaughter that awaits above.” He filled his voice with despair and sorrow. “We used to live above, in peace, but the world above forced us beneath the ground. It was the only way our race could survive. So here, in this black pit, we live like rodents. I’ve lost so many of my family. Dozens over the years. Wives. Children.” He made a strange sob. “Butchered. Pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears.”

“Women and children? That's horrible.” Nath patted Oran on the shoulder. “Tell me more.”

Oran produced a handkerchief and blew his nose. “I will. I will … friend.” He looked up into Nath’s eyes, and with a pleading face, he said, “That is why you came. To bring us justice. Vengeance. Not all are bad in the world above. There are others.” He rubbed the scales on Nath’s arms. “Like you.”

“Like me!”

“Oh, but don’t get so excited, my comrade. Your kind are rare, and your brethren allied with us against the men above.” Oran sighed. “And I fear that most of your kindred are dead. They hunted them down and killed them. It’s quite possible that you are the last.”

“But I thought I was summoned with magic?” Nath said.

“It was to our benefit that one of your kind came. Fortune is finally in our favor.”

Nath turned to him. “Then why did the other underlings try to kill me?”

Oran lifted his eyes. “Alas, this is our problem. You have served us for quite some time. You had a mission to hunt down and destroy a man. He cuts our kind down with bloodthirsty barbaric cruelty. Turning us into crow food!” He smacked his hand on the couch's arm. “We are peaceful! Yet he slaughters us like sheep!”

“Easy now, Oran.”

Rubbing his temples, Oran said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t answer your question. It seems I got caught up with myself. Where was I? Ah yes, old silver eyes, Verbard. Indeed, he wanted to kill you because you failed.”

“Failed?”

“You were sent to take out this slayer. Months ago. We lost track of you; hence, I summoned you back. Somehow, Lords Verbard and Catten knew this Darkslayer still lived.” Oran patted Nath on the knee. “Those two don’t take failure well, but I fought for you. Hence, I summoned you back, and you didn’t recollect anything. Tell me, do you not remember anything? Anything at all?”

Nath shook his head.

“Oh, it’s going to be difficult to pick up where you left off then, but I’m certain we can put the trail back together. We must. You are all the hope we have to stop this Outland butcher.”

“Oran, you knew me before, so tell me, what is my name? It escapes me.”

“Uh, er …” Oran fumbled over the words. He needed to come up with something quick. This man was too keen, so he needed to be convincing. He knew Nath's real name because just before the man had dropped out of the portal, he’d heard a gruff voice screaming it from the other side. Oh, why not just tell him. “Nath. Yes, Nath. I should have thought of that. I think that might help you.”

But I hope not. Risky Oran, risky.

“Is it helping?”

Nath’s face was a mask of concentration. He repeated the name over and over. “Nath. Nath. Nath. It seems familiar enough.” He sighed and clutched his head. “But no.”

Thank the evil Current!

Oran rubbed Nath's back. “Don’t fret, comrade. Perhaps some of the air above will restore your thoughts. But we must be careful.”

“We’re leaving?”

Oran got up, found the goblets of wine on the nearby table, and drank them both. “Ah! Now, get in the barge. We have an ugly world to see.”