Clutch Of The Cleric (Book 4) (10 page)

CHAPTER 21

Kryzak stood in the center of the Dragon Poacher camp
, inspecting the carnage. The Gnolls were dead. The Goblins were dead. But that was not all. One Ettin out of three was dead, another’s hand maimed. The two that lived now roamed the woods in the crater, awaiting his call. He picked up the flail of the Gnoll leader. Eyed it.

“Interesting,” he said, running his finger
over the blood on the metal. “I can make use of that.” He motioned for one of the Draykis. Its hulking frame made its way over, silently as a cat. He handed the Draykis the flail. “Keep this. It may have more uses.”

Making his way around the camp
, Kryzak reenacted the battle in his mind. A Roving Ranger. That made him curious. Why would a Roving Ranger be with Nath Dragon? It bothered him. Ranger Elves he’d just as soon avoid. They were a formidable bunch. Strange and deadly. And he didn’t like to take on things he didn’t understand.

He picked up
one of the gnarled crossbows, grunted, and tossed it aside.

He took a seat on
a log near the extinguished campfire, pulled his hood down, and let the sunlight warm his head. His tattoos sparkled in the bright light. He rubbed the sweat that glistened on his head away with a dark cloth and tucked it back inside is robes.

“It’s a great day.”

He grabbed his canteen, took a drink and closed his eyes. Bounced his war mace on his heavy shoulders. Ground his teeth a little.

Kryzak liked to fight. He was a warrior just as much as a cleric. He hated missing the melee and combat that
had occurred over the past couple of days.

But he was a planner too. Strategic. Cunning. He’
d set a trap. A test. He had to get some idea of what his was dealing with in Nath Dragon and his companions.

The encounter with the Ettins
had told a lot. Nath and his companions were strong. Powerful. An efficient team. They trusted one another. It surprised him. He’d figured the Ettins a match for them.

B
ut he’d been wrong.

He smashed his mace into the ground. Again and again. It was a big thing. Heavy. Meant to be wielded by a big
Man such as himself. He could cave plate armor in with it. Bash the locks on heavy doors. He’d killed a Giant with a single blow to the head once. And he was itching to use it again.

“Barnabus!”
Kryzak cursed. “I need a fight.”

He would get it too. But not before he was ready. He needed to know more.

His spy would have to fill in the details. His spy had earlier filled him in on everything that had happened. The Giant-sized Dwarf. The magic the part-Elven wizard used. The female wizard as well. Not to mention the arrows and sword that Nath Dragon could wield.

Even with the help of Ettins and Draykis
, Kryzak would be hard pressed to defeat Nath’s party. He’d have to separate them. Maybe kill them off in pieces. He grinned.

“I like the way I think.”

He clapped his calloused hands and muttered a mystic word.

The
blackened logs in the pit burst into flames.

He liked the fire. It had magic, warmth and power. It could do good or bad. Destroy life o
r save it.

He poured
out his canteen into a pool of water on the ground. Muttered some mystic words and watched the water take form. Then the fire.

Two tiny elementals,
each less than a foot tall, started to battle. Like gladiators that hated each other.

He laughed
, watching them fling tiny balls of fire and water at each other.

Ssssz. Ssssz. Sssssz.

They locked up. Wrestled like Minotaurs until they extinguished one another. It made him wonder if evil could truly defeat good. Where would all the excitement be?

He rubbed the amulet around his neck.

A Draykis came forward. Towering over him. “Do we hunt?”

“No, not yet. We’ll wait until they depart the
Elven lands,” he said.

“And then what? Care to let me in?”

Kryzak scoffed. The Draykis weren’t mindless things. They were the best Dragon Hunters he’d ever used. They made typical poachers―Gnolls, Goblins and Orcs―look like halflings and Gnomes. They were fearless. Never rattled. And if it weren’t for his amulet, he was pretty sure they’d rip him to pieces.

Kryzak respected them. He had to make sure they respected him.

“You heard what the spy said. Now we wait until he reports more,” he said, rising to his feet. The pair were almost eye to eye know. He dangled the amulet between his fingers and slung his mace over his shoulder. “I want to know what they are after. And I don’t want to fool with the Elves. Come.”

The Crater made for an interesting hideout. Filled with dangerous predators and excellent pla
ces for monsters such as Giants to conceal themselves. Even Dragons. For years poachers had roamed this location, and now Kryzak had taken it over.

And no one had challenged him.

There was no need now that word was getting out.

Another war was coming.

Maneuvering through the woods, he came across a hole over a dozen feet wide that led into the ground and formed a tunnel. It was pitch black, but the eyes of the Draykis and the tattoos on his head both gave off a soft glow of light. Damp and cold, a hundred steps down the steep incline he came to a stop.

He muttered
, “
Shompin
.”

Torches lit up a large cavern. Inside were many cages. Some big enough for an Ettin, others small as a cat. Many of them
were filled with Dragons.

Two more Draykis emerged from the dark corners
, followed by something else. A Dragon, dark scaled, bigger than a horse, wingless, with bright yellow cat-like eyes. The Feline Fury. Its long whiskers touched the floor. He stroked its face. Its purr was like thunder. 

“Ah, my favorite,”
Kryzak said.

The Feline Fury had been instrumental in capturing other
Dragons. It was an excellent hunter. It and the Draykis had become the most effective poachers of all. The captured Dragons lay curled up in their cages, eyes closed, unmoving. The biggest was a Red Belly Dragon. It was male, dark yellow scales on top, dark red on the bottom. A fire breather and hot land dweller. Smelled like sulfur all the time. Not much of a flyer. It would fetch a great price in the market. Its parts, that is. It was too big to keep alive. Too dangerous.

The others
―most as big as tigers―would make pets or catalysts to magic. The wizards preferred them. They were all fantastic creatures. Beautiful in some cases. Metallic in color, some pastel, others with chameleon-like powers.  All in all, the Dragons were worth a fortune.

“Almost a shame to put an end to them,” he said, stroking the whiskers of The
Fury. “Of course, like you, maybe some of them can be turned to our service.”

CHAPTER 22

We made it
to the Elven Lands without any more trouble. Shum and the rest of us were in good shape. Even Brenwar had loosened up. I spent most of my time hunting and fishing with Ben and Garrison when were weren’t riding. They were good company, especially Ben. I was amazed at how much he had changed in a matter of months. A boy to a man.

It almost made me feel ashamed of myself
, for some reason.

But my sense of guilt and worry started to subside in the
Elven Lands. They were well protected and monitored. Filled with wild animals of incredibly rare sorts. They said unicorns were seen from time to time. But the Elves kept a close watch on such things―assuming of course they could find them.

One
thing was for sure: there wasn’t much to do with evil. At least not that they knew of.

The
Elven Lands weren’t so different, just more lush and colorful. The water sparkled in the streams and ponds. There were roads, farms and villages―and so long as you traveled with Elves or weren’t suspicious, they didn’t seem to notice you.

Slighter in build than
Men, the Elves didn’t care to answer questions and would just wave and offer smiles. Elves were pleasant, laid back, easy going, at least in the country. It was the serious ones that kept things in order. And they were in the main city, Elome, which was right where we were going.

“What’s that
?” Ben said, pointing ahead.

“That’s Elome, Ben,” I said.

He squinted. Held his hand over his eyes.

“
Are those trees? Or buildings? They’re touching the clouds, whatever they are”

“You’ll see,” I said
. “You’ll see.”

We were miles away, but the object in Ben’s eyes, all our eyes, was miles long. Everyone was solemn. Bayzog’s face was tight. Sasha’s eyes were saucers. Shum and Brenwar didn’t look any different than they normally would, but I was sure Brenwar would have something contrary to say about it.

We took our time too. The horses clopping over the road at a normal pace. Things seemed to go much slower in the Elven Woods. There wasn’t a great deal of business about them. It was different. Calm. Serene.

“I don’t think we
’re getting any closer, Dragon,” Ben said.

“We’ll get there when we get
there, Ben,” I said, raking my hair out of my face. “Enjoy it. It’s not the same going as it is coming.”

Onward we went, one mile, then two, three and four.
As we got closer, the city widened, impossibly so. The trees that reached for the clouds weren’t all trees but a network of stonework, cut blocks and polished stones that looked as natural as nature itself. There were no city walls, not like Quintuklen, nor steep mountain ridges like Morgdon. It was the imagination and cultivation of Elven kind and nature working as one. Fantastic. Almost magical.

“By the Sultans,” Sasha said, “it’s absolutely beautiful.”

“To you, maybe,” I heard Brenwar mutter under is beard.

We made our way through one of the massive arches that led into the city.
Elven soldiers were spaced throughout the structures but hardly noticeable. The Elves went about their business―trading, selling, buying―the same as other people, just talking in Elvish. The men were slender and purposed. The women elegant, pretty, even exotic in some cases. But not a one batted an eyelash at me, which was disappointing. But on the other side of things, they didn’t gawk at my arms either.

“Dragon,” Ben said
, trying to look everywhere at once, “this place is fantastic. Not anything I ever imagined.”

It was true. The buildings were of all sorts and sizes. Some carved from stone, others wood. Soft mosses
―blue, green, even yellow―coated many places like paint, and the roads were laid out in pale red stone. Children ran through the streets, darting in and out of wicker hoops. Others chased after one another, filling the air with laughter and giggles here and there.

“Smells good,” Ben said, rubbing his stomach. “I’ve never had
Elven food before.”

“Pah,” Brenwar said, “you won’t like the taste.”

“I won’t? Why not?” Ben said.

“Well, do you like meat?”

“Sure, everyone does,” Ben said, “Don’t they?”

“Well, their meat tastes like fruit and gardens, Farmboy. And the
ir ale tastes like honey. Do you like honey, Boy?”

“Uh,” Ben said, scratching his head.

“Well?”

Ben rode up to me and said, “Brenwar scares me.”

“Ho! Ho! Ho!” Brenwar said from behind.

“Take it easy, Ben. Brenwar’s set in his ways
, you know.”

“Does the
ir meat really taste like vegetables?”

“Don’t worry, you’ll like it,” I said. “I always do.”

Well, I mostly did. The Elves didn’t eat much meat. Not much of any at all. As a matter of fact, they ate very little.

That was one of things that was different about Elome. There weren’t taverns like the other cities. Whatever they needed, they just plucked i
t from the vines that cropped up everywhere.

The
Elves nurtured.

The plant life fed.

I plucked a fruit from a vine we passed and tossed one to Ben and another to Garrison.

“Eat,” I said. “There’s plenty.”

Brenwar was scoffing in the back. I tossed him a fruit. He snatched it from the air. Eyes filled with venom.

“What’s this for
?” Brenwar said.

“To eat,” I said
. “It won’t kill you.”

“
Dwarves don’t eat fruit! We eat beast. We eat stew!” He chucked it at one of the children.

The light headed boy snatched it with his hand, nodded and took a bite out of it.

“Next time I’ll toss him a rock to eat.”

“Come,” Bayzog said, taking the lead. “I’ll take us to the
Place of Meets.”

***

The Place of Meets was marvelous. A gathering space a mile long and a mile high. We weren’t so unique there. Men and Elves consulted. Halflings and Gnomes appeared, shuffling by with smiles and intense conversations. Brenwar, arms folded over his breast plate, made it a point to scowl at each and every one of them. He took pride in being part of the tallest of the short races and didn’t hesitate to make it known.

“Sit,
everyone.” Bayzog took his place on a sofa carved in a tree with violet covered moss cushions.

Sasha sat close beside him.

“Sit, everyone,” he said again. “Relax. They won’t be with us anytime soon.”

“You can say that again,” Brenwar said.

Ben hopped from spot to spot. Sampling the foods. Tasting the drinks the Elven servants laid out. Finally he stretched out on a padded lounge and stuffed fruits and cheeses in his mouth.

“Sit!” he said. “How about live? This room is the most wondrous thing I
’ve ever seen. I could live here!” He thumped his arms on his furniture. “Right here. This spot! Never move again.”

An
Elven maiden with pale violet hair and green eyes sauntered in with another tray. She was petite, pretty, eyes engaging.

Ben choked.
Thumped his chest with his fist. Took a drink. “Hello,” he managed to spit out. “My name’s Ben.”

She nodded and walked away.

“Ah!” Ben said. “Did you see that, Dragon? The way she looked at me? I think she likes me!”

“I think you need to ease up on the
Elven fruit juice, Ben. It’s pretty potent.”

Sasha and Garrison chuckled along with
me.

Everyone
else was quite serious.

“What?” Ben said. “I swear she liked me. She really did.”

After an hour, everyone had settled in. Chatting openly with one another. The Elven juice often did that to you.

Brenwar groaned when he took a seat.
“I’m sitting, but I swear I won’t be comfortable.” He combed his beard with his fingers. Grumbled. “Better not be no pixies.”

Now came the wait.

The waits weren’t so bad for the likes of me, Brenwar, Shum or Bayzog. But to humans like Sasha, Ben and Garrison, it could be agonizing. It was one of the reasons Men didn’t mingle with the Elves so much. Elven things took a long time. A simple meeting might not start for days, maybe weeks, unless you planned it out well in advance. In the case of us, our business was unexpected. There was no telling when they’d officially greet us.

I took a chair near Bayzog and Sasha. Tried to enjoy the tunes
of the Elven bards who strummed and strolled along. I was uncomfortable though.

Waiting, which really wasn’t much of an issue with
Dragons, made me think of my father. He always made me wait. Well, maybe not wait as much as Dragon things just taking a long time. But right now, I wouldn’t mind
waiting
to see him again as opposed to maybe never seeing him again at all.

I set down my goblet of
Elven juice. I needed to focus.

“Thanks for bringing me here,” Sasha said to Bayzog. “I’ve always wanted to come.
”

Bayzog sat with his arm on her knee, poised but not relaxed.

I could feel the tension in him. I understood it. I could relate. But I had to wonder what he was thinking. I didn’t know much about Bayzog and his family.

Sasha gently turned Bayzog
’s chin with her fingers, to face her.

“Why don’t you go see them while we wait
? I’m sure they miss you.”

I saw a little fire ignite in Bayzog
’s violet eyes. But that fire was met with Sasha’s sweet determination.

Good for her
, I thought.

“Perhaps,” Bayzog said.

The night came. The leaves on some of the trees glowed, and all the humans in our party fell asleep. The rest of us sat in the quiet. Alone in our thoughts. Contemplating the next step in the journey. Would the Elves help? Or would they shun our efforts?

There was only one way to find out.

Wait.