Clash of Heroes: Nath Dragon meets The Darkslayer (5 page)

CHAPTER 10

“This looks a lot more accommodating,” Nath said, shielding his eyes with his hand. He stared over a rugged, dirt-coated landscape where the trees had no leaves. In the distance, a bright burning sun sank over the rocky hillsides with another, smaller yellow sun behind it. “I can see why you’d rather live above than below. It’s hot but incredible.”

With his back turned to the hot blaze, Oran said, “Indeed. Come, we need to go.”

Nath followed, taking in the landscape as he strolled. Little spiny lizards darted over the sunbaked ground. Green-brown cacti seemed to burst from it. Ahead, facing the sun’s burning light, Nath’s keen eyes could make out the details of a large stagnant marsh filled with vines and willow trees. A gentle breeze drifted in the foul sulphur-like smell. “We are going in there?”

“Yes.” Oran replied.

“You seem a little quiet. Why is that?”

“It’s places like this where that butcher thrives. We never know when he may strike, but we often find sanctuary in these marshes. The smell keeps men away. Often we have survivors hiding there. Come.”

Nath found himself slowing down from time to time because Oran struggled to keep up with his long strides. Judging by the ugly grimace on the underling's face, Oran was either scared or out of his element. Or both. His face had been drawn tight since they left the caves.

It took about an hour, but finally they entered the swamp, just as the last ray of sunlight dimmed.

Ankle deep in murky waters, Nath covered his nose with the back of his hand and pushed through the thickets. Small creatures with big white eyes hopped from tree to tree. Ugly birds cawed. Something snaked through the waters past his ankles. Unable to help himself, Nath said, “And your people live here? I think the caves are better.”

Oran grumbled a chitter. “It’s not ideal, but many prefer the lands above ground. Underlings are fearless and often live on the edge, Darkslayer or no. We will not cower forever. That’s why you’re here.”

“I see.”

After venturing deeper into the dark swamp, Nath came to a stop. He reached forward and grabbed Oran by his robes. The scales on his neck tingled. His hand reached behind his back and locked around the pommel of his sword.

The soft breath of a nearby predator pricked his ears, and then the sound of metal slipping from leather sheaths.

Peering in the dimness, Nath found himself surrounded by dozens of gemstone eyes, dark colors: red, blue, and green that gave off the faintest twinkle of light in the dimness.

“Be still,” Oran warned.

On cat's feet, smallish and intent figures revealed themselves and closed in. They were stout and wiry underlings, with various razor-sharp blades that filled their hands. Some carried small crossbows, and others had blowguns pressed to their lips. They moved with deadly intent, wiry bodies corded in muscle, ready and poised to strike.

“Friends of yours?” Nath said through his teeth.

Palms up, Oran started speaking Underling in strange chitters. Their weapons remained poised at his and Nath’s chests. The underling cleric spoke fast, with authority behind it.

Nath tried to put together bits and pieces of the odd language. He hadn't had any trouble with the one Oran had taught him, but this one was more complicated. He wasn’t exactly sure why Oran hadn't bothered to teach it to him, but for now he’d just have to accept it.

Finally, the underlings lowered their weapons and put them away. One of them approached, a shirtless little brute with two curved swords strapped on his hips. The emerald-eyed underling ran his finger over Nath’s forearm and let out an excited chitter.

“What’s going on, Oran?” Nath asked.

“They are inspecting you. Just give them a moment and they’ll soon be through.”

Nath wasn’t sure why, but he had the urge to recoil from the pressing throng of hard-faced underlings. Finally, after about a minute or so, they broke off and vanished back into the marsh. “Where are they going?”

“To the grave.”

“The grave?” Nath said, eyeing the lone underling fighter that remained. It was the one with emerald eyes and two fine blades. “Whose grave?”

“Our graves.”

***

Corpses. Underling corpses. More than a dozen of them cut down in their prime. Some were jammed in the murk with their legs tethered up with sticks. A bald one’s face was split open. Another one was cut in half.

Nath covered his nose and fanned away the flies and gnats.

“Do you not bury them? How can you leave them exposed like that?”

“It keeps that fiend away. He’ll not hunt again where he's already passed. It’s a sanctuary.” Oran was gazing up at one of his dead brethren that hung in a tree. He'd been scalped. “The monster even takes trophies. How sick is that? Twisted and diabolical, is it not?”

Nath hacked a cough and spat the foul taste from his mouth. Indeed, the carnage was a grisly scene. The underlings, a well-armed and trained fighting force judging by the look of them, had been massacred. He picked his way between the bodies, inspecting them with his eyes. “What in the world does this monster fight with?”

“He carries an axe. Like your sword, it’s almost as big as a man. They say he strikes like a snake. Twirls it with the ease of a stick.” Oran nodded his head at one of the underlings from the small force that accompanied them. He was rough looking, and his right arm was missing. Oran took him by the good arm and said to Nath, “He saw the Darkslayer and lived.”

The ruby-eyed underling fighter nodded.

“He is a Badoon,” Oran said. “One of our finest hunters and soldiers. He is cherished and he is vengeful. He’ll stop at nothing to kill this slayer.”

Nath studied an underling that looked to be pinned to a tree with his own spear. “Was this slayer even wounded?”

Oran chittered back and forth with the wounded underling and said back to Nath, “He falls and then he rises, they say.”

By Nath’s best guess, the corpses were weeks old, maybe longer. It seemed the marsh's sulfur and salty waters had a way of preserving bodies from decay. He pinched some brown tree moss between his fingers. Even it smelled bad. Everything stank, and it seemed a shame that these underlings were forced to live here. He eyed an underling filling up a canteen with the foul marsh waters and said with a sour face, “You drink this?”

“We’ve adapted. It’s a unique capability of our race. Perhaps some of these waters will quench your own palate.” Oran took the canteen from the underling who had just filled it. He offered it to Nath. “Drink and replenish yourself.”

Nath pushed out his hand as if to push the canteen away. “No, thank you. I’m not thirsty.”

“And you’ve eaten very little at all. You need to fill yourself. Be strong for the hunt.”

Jaw set like a stone, Nath balled up his fist. “I’ve seen enough, Oran. And the only thing I hunger for is revenge for your and my people.” He smacked his fist into his hand. “It’s time this slayer was slain.”

CHAPTER 11

Back in Oran’s lair, Nath stood on the sandy beach staring down at the black waters. He was convinced the underlings needed his aid, and that that was what he was here for. Besides, it was the only way he could learn about himself and others like him.

“You’re a hunter, are you not?” Oran said, hooking a rucksack over Nath’s shoulders. “Yes, yes, of course you are. Fine hunters your kind are. The best. This food will preserve you if needed. And you may need to cover yourself. It’s possible you will have to venture into the cities to track this miscreant down. He’s a man by day, we believe, and demon by night. We’ll see. Rather, you’ll see.”

Even with his memories gone, Nath didn’t have any trouble feeling comfortable about hunting. He wouldn’t go hungry, if that was what the underling was worried about. No, he’d be fine. Staring down into the black waters, he watched the ghostly fish go by. He had an urge to catch them. Scale them. Eat them. “Look, I’m ready, Oran. I have my sword and my instincts. I say let’s go.”

“Oh, well, there is no 'let’s'. The Badoon underlings will lead you from here.” Oran approached. He had a solid necklace of twisted metal in his hand. “Put this on.”

Nath took it in hand. “Is it a gift?”

“It’s for your protection. I won’t be accompanying you, Nath. But, with the aid of this, I can keep track of your location. If you are in danger, all you need to do is call my name.” Oran placed a metal band on his head that was of a similar makeup in dark metal material. “See?”

The underling's words were convincing. As a matter of fact, every time the underling spoke, Nath felt compelled to obey, and as strange and unpleasant as the underlings seemed, for some reason he wanted to help them in their time of need. He clasped the band around his neck and immediately felt the urge to tug on it with his clawed finger. “It’s a bit snug.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“I suppose I can take it off if it bothers me,” Nath said. He tried to unclasp it, but the hasp would not loosen. “Oran, what treachery is this?”

“You cannot take it off,” Oran said, “but I can. Listen, Nath, I cannot risk losing you again. You were summoned by me and need to trust me.” He pressed his fingers to his head and closed his eyes.

You can hear me, can you not?

“Yes, yes I can.”

“Then trust me. It’s for your safety, and you’ll get used to it. Before long, it will be like a second skin to you.” Oran escorted him onto the barge, where several of the underling Badoon fighters stood ready. “Nath, do not fail me. You must kill this slayer once and for all. If you fail, I fear all will be lost in this world. Not to mention, my lords Catten and Verbard will certainly skin both of us alive.”

“I’ll find this fiend that strikes in the night.”

“And on your journey, I’ll give you plenty to think about.” With his foot, Oran pushed the barge into the Current.

The windless tunnels swept the craft away and took Nath into the darkness.

***

Oran sat on the sofa, wringing his hands. The dragon man Nath that he had summoned was unlike any creature he’d ever dealt with before. Unlike the other monsters he’d toyed with, this one, he was certain, was good natured. He guzzled down some human-made wine and wiped his mouth across his sleeve.

“Oh, if it weren’t for Verbard and Catten, this could be so much more interesting.”

He poured another glass, sat back, and took the metal headband off. Eyeing it, he was pleased. He could keep an eye on the man without putting himself in any danger. He could do other things as well, such as change the man’s perception of things. The man would need to be tougher, meaner. Day by day, hour by hour, the collar Nath wore should turn him away from any noble deeds. Oran grinned.

I’ll turn that good nature dark.

“And it should strengthen my grip on him.” He stretched out his arms and yawned. “Oh, how I would delight in going on this journey, but why endanger myself? The Badoon have their orders: find the slayer and help my new champion kill him. And if he fails, he fails. It wouldn’t surprise me one bit if Catten and Verbard had forgotten all about this already.” He rubbed his lips with his finger. “And if he wins, then my, what a weapon I will have at my disposal.”

CHAPTER 12

Nath’s journey with the underlings took him through some wild country, wasteland, and marshes. Finally, they led him into a jungle-like terrain thick in vines and narrow ravines. The underlings said little. If anything, they were all business. Skilled. Tactful. They crept through the rugged foliage like a band of slithering snakes. They were nothing short of an impressive knot of people.

Nath thumbed sweat from his eyes. In addition to its vibrant sounds of wildlife, the jungle was dripping wet with humidity. The dampness dripped from the grey faces of the underlings. They were a hard little people, the same in size and build, but each different. Some wore black-dyed leather armor. Others were shirtless or had tattoos, branding, or scars. Hairstyles were various: braided, long, short, and bald, one just as intimidating as the other. Nath found it hard to believe that anything could push them around.

He kneeled down on a soft bank of mud and drank from the creek that trickled by. The fresh water cooled his throat and eased his senses. They’d been walking for days, daylight and dark. Nath didn’t rest easy when he needed to either. He tugged at his necklace. Ever since he’d put it on, something had been tugging at him, probing at him. It gave him a slight headache.

The underling with dark-green eyes and two blades on his hips poked him in the back and chittered at him.

Nath refilled his canteen and fell back in step. Even though he didn’t understand their tongue and they spoke little, he was picking up bits and pieces.
Come.
That chittered word was simple enough.

“How are you?”
asked
a voice inside Nath’s mind. The voice of Oran.

Ducking underneath some brush, Nath replied in thought. “Fine.”

“Any bloodshed?”

“Not yet.”

Oran had been communicating with him daily and filling him in. He spoke about the other races and described them. He sent images as well. Dwarves and halflings. Gnolls, kobolds, and orcs. The sweaty-nosed orcs bothered Nath most for some reason. And then the men. Oran and the underlings truly despised men. The underling cleric said most men were worse than the other races, and they couldn’t even trust themselves. “Be wary of them,” Oran said. “After all, this journey may take some time.”

The underling Badoon came to a stop. Quickly, they dashed off the path and burrowed into the thickets.

Nath did the same. He sent his thoughts to Oran. “We have action on the way.”

“Keep me posted.”
Oran’s connection was gone.

As he hunkered back in the foliage, the sound of hooves caught Nath’s ear. Riders were coming up the path. With hushed breath, he waited alongside the Badoon leader, who squatted in the brush ready to spring.

Three riders appeared, men adorned in heavy armor from the shoulder down. One carried a banner of white and blue stripes. Each had a heavy sword strapped to the saddle. Their faces were weathered and formidable.

The wildlife chirped and hooted. The day winds rustled the leaves. The underlings started cawing on their own. It was a unique birdlike sound. The Badoon leader snaked his swords from his sheaths.

Nath felt the underling's heartbeat speed up.

They’re going to attack.

The lead rider came to a stop and held his gauntleted hand up. His eyes narrowed, and quickly his hand went to his sword. Scanning the trees, he cried out, “Ambush!”

Clatch zip! Clatch zip! Clatch zip!

Small crossbow bolts rocketed into the horse’s hind quarters. The mare reared up and threw her rider to the ground. In an instant, the underlings filled the path and pinned the riders in. Four underlings pounced on the fallen rider, cutting him open where he stood. His blood was the first to feed the ground.

With astonishment, Nath watched the battle ensue. With the surprise over, the riders rode hard and trampled a handful of underlings under the hooves of the well-trained beasts. Long swords were out and started to strike, keeping the fierce knot of jewel-eyed fighters at bay. Quick and deadly, the underlings chopped away at the battling steeds, dropping them to the ground.

Still concealed, Nath’s neck tightened. A conflict within arose.

Metal banging against metal, the swift hunters whittled away at the men. The taller warriors chopped with well-placed ferocity. Back and forth they went.

Glitch! Stab! Hack! Slash!

One underling lost his arm. Another clutched at a bleeding hole in his neck. The heavy armor of the bloodied second rider slowed him down. His chops became sluggish. The underlings, in quick, accurate flashes, overwhelmed the man with quick-striking steel. The lights went out in his eyes, and he sagged to the ground.

That left the lead rider and his blood-coated longsword.

The Badoon leader faced off with the man and chittered a command to the other underlings. The throng of wiry fighters stayed their weapons and encircled the two.

The man, stern and short bearded, filled his free hand with a dagger. “I might die, you black fiend, but you’ll die with me.”

Spitting on the ground, the underling charged.

Sword poised, the man parried.
Clang! Clang!

Fast and relentless, the underling struck blow after blow. The seasoned fighter slapped away every blow. With the ease of a cat toying with a mouse, the underling kept striking. It wasn’t long before the defending warrior’s breath labored and his shoulders drooped.

Nath could see the end coming, but he was torn. What merited the men getting ambushed? And the slaughter of horses seemed to be a tactic that was uncalled for. It formed a knot in his stomach.

The underling’s fine curved blade bit deep into the man’s wrist. His dagger fell to the ground.

Grimacing, the man said, “Fool of a fiend! You may take me, but you will not take what is coming. Hear that, underling? Hear that?”

Nath lurched in the bushes. A rumble came. The leaves on the trees started to shake. The thunder of hooves roared.

Riders!

The underling leader's blades darted in and skewered the man in the chest. He ripped them out again and turned. Riders, a dozen, galloped down the path. Spears were lowered. Elbows locked in place.

The ambush wasn’t over. It had just begun.