Flight of the Dragon (The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 5 of 10) (Tail of the Dragon) (10 page)

Rerry awoke. He was leaned against a rock, head spinning. Something tugged at his arm. Eyelids flickering, he slowly made the image of Samaz form in his vision. His brother had him by the forearm. There were at least twenty stitches in the wound. Samaz was wrapping it up. “What happened?” Rerry asked.

“You passed out.”

Rerry’s heart fired. He lurched up. “Where’s Scar?”

“He’ll be back. He and the other two are out scouting for food. It’s been a busy day. Everyone is hungry.”

“What are you talking about, Samaz? Are we their prisoners again?”

“No, they’re our prisoners.” Samaz finished up the wrap. “Keep it clean.” He tried to get up.

But Rerry held him down. “Samaz, I don’t see any prisoners. You must mean they’re our escaped prisoners.”

“You beat him, Rerry. Scar is honoring his debt. He’s in your service, and his men are in his.” Samaz traced his finger along the cut in Rerry’s neck. “That might scar. I’ll see if I can find some of nature’s loam for it.”

Scratching his head, Rerry looked around and said in a whisper, “I did beat him, didn’t I. For the life of me, I don’t know how. Something just … overcame me. I felt like two men in one. It was strange, very strange.”

Making sure no one else was around, Samaz said, “It was me.”

“What do you mean, it was you?”

“We became one. I was merged with you. I can’t explain it. It just sort of happened.”

“You don’t know anything about fighting with a sword.” Rerry leaned back against the boulder and closed his eyes. “But something happened, for certain. What do you mean, you merged with me?”

“I’ve always felt something, a connection. I’ve talked to Mother about it before. She says that, being brothers born with magic in our veins, we might bear special powers. She says that if we do, one day these powers will reveal themselves.” He sat down shoulder to shoulder with Rerry. “That revelation came today. I don’t know what happened, but you were fighting, and I felt it. I tingled from head to toe right before I said you could beat him. Besides, I dreamed it.”

“Dreamed it? When?”

Samaz caught a colorful butterfly on his finger. “At least ten years ago.”

“I’d have trouble believing you if you weren’t so strange.” Rerry sighed. There wasn’t any reason for his brother to lie, and he’d indeed felt something. There wasn’t any better explanation. Scar should have cut him to ribbons, but he hadn’t. He hated to say it, but he did. “Let’s not let Scar know about this. He’ll want a rematch.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“So, how did you catch those elves? Did you use some kind of spell on them?”

“I’m faster than you think.”

They helped each other to their feet.

“Well, I’d hope so.”

Scar and the soldiers returned. They had some dead rabbits and a sack of small green apples. The captain had a hard time looking at Rerry when he said, “We’ll get the meat cooked. These apples are sour as an elven elder, but they’ll fill your gut and quench your thirst.”

“I’m famished,” Rerry replied.

Scar tossed him a pair of apples.

He caught them both with one hand. “Thanks.” His lips puckered as soon as he bit into one. He pitched it away. “No thanks. I’d rather eat a rock.”

Scar took a big bite out of his own apple. “I’ll gather you all the rocks you want to eat. Mmmm, that’s good.”

What’s he up to?

Rerry was far from comfortable having Scar as his indentured servant. He wasn’t even certain to what extent he could order the elf around.

Time to push.

“Let me see your sword, Scar.”

Scar unbuckled his sword belt. “It’s yours to have. All I have to offer is yours. Even my life. The same goes for my men. We’ll keep our word.” He handed Rerry the sword—belt, scabbard, and all.

Rerry examined it.

The working of the scabbard was of the finest craft. The leather of the belt was worn and soft but well maintained by the natural oils of the lands. Countless hours must have gone into crafting the sword. It had been forged by the finest blacksmiths.

“Put it back on. It’s yours to keep for a lifetime. I have to be honest with you, Scar, I’m not comfortable having henchmen.”

“Then you’re releasing me from my word?”

“No, you are not released. As soon as I do that, you’ll be right back after me again. Instead, you and your men shall accompany us on our quest. I didn’t say I wouldn’t get used to it.” He gave a nod to Samaz. His brother was making a fire while the soldiers skinned the rabbits. “And it might just last forever.”

Scar adjusted his eyepatch. “I couldn’t have cared less before, but seeing how your quest involves me now, enlighten me some more.”

Rerry filled him in on his mother’s problem with the wizard’s dementia and went even further back to the final battle of the Great Dragon War when the elves and dwarves teamed up and turned loose the Apparatus of Ruune on the Floating City.

Scar and his men hung on every word.

Without realizing it, Rerry captivated himself. He just kept going on and on until the sun dipped behind the trees and the darkness came. When he finished, the campfire crackled and all the rabbit meat was gone. He wiped his fingers on the grasses. “It was something.”

“I must admit, I’m envious.” Scar stirred a stick in the ground. “I wasn’t doing anything when all that went on. As for your mother, I sympathize. But going into Elome to acquire the Ocular of Orray? Hah! You look more human than elf. You’ll never acquire the gem. I don’t think you can even find it. It offers no guarantees it can heal her anyway.” He broke the stick in half and tossed it into the fire. “‘There’s more than one way to do anything,’ they say. But some things can’t be undone, Rerry. Listen to me. You too, Samaz. I don’t think your mother would want you to die on her account. Go home. Abandon this quest.”

Rerry stiffened. “That won’t happen! You just want to be free.”

“You aren’t going to slip through the elves’ and dwarves’ clutches forever. You should turn yourselves in. See what happens. If Nath Dragon truly is who you say he is, his name will be cleared.”

“Not if they kill him.”

“That’s easier said than done, based off what you’ve told me. For the love of Elome, he’s a dragon. I’ve never heard of a dragon being put on trial before. But they’ll make it happen.”

“Nalzambor has enough evil in it. Nath Dragon is the least of their worries. He’s the one fighting the danger lurking out there.”

Scar rubbed his hands over the fire. “The greatest danger is what lurks within the hearts of all. We’re all quick to judge one another, Rerry. We always want a scapegoat. I hate to admit it, but your friend’s enemies will only pile up.”

“Why do you say that? It doesn’t make any sense.”

“There’s a flaw in all of us. If there weren’t, we’d all get along.” Scar lay down with his hands behind his head. “You’re young. You’ve much to figure out yet. Now, get some sleep. Your human side needs it. I can see the blackness under your eyes where if you were an elf, they’d still be bright as day.”

“I don’t need any sleep. I need to help my mother.”

“Things will be clearer once you get some shuteye. Be a soldier. Take a moment. You never know when you’ll get another chance to rest.” Scar closed his eye. He breathed easy and slept. The other elves did the same.

The glow of the dying fire showed on Samaz’s face. He looked wide awake. He always looked wide awake. “I never sleep,” he said. “Take some rest.”

“What do you think we should do?” Rerry asked.

“I might abandon Elome, but I won’t abandon Mother.”

“I’m glad we agree.” Rerry lay down, but he couldn’t sleep.

There has to be another way to help her, but I don’t know where to start.

The nuurg. They made Nath’s skin crawl. He could see one of them standing outside a small fortress made from logs and rock. It had heavy orcen features and only one eye. It chewed meat from the bone of a stag near where a metal urn filled with burning firewood blazed. The animal’s rack of antlers lay nearby. The nuurg stuck the meat in the fire, cooked it, then pulled it out of the flame and ate some more.

Concealed in a spot of higher ground fifty yards above Nath overlooking the distant open plain where the nuurg’s fortress stood sentry, Tim fidgeted.

The rain had stopped, but the humidity was up. Everything outside was quiet.

In a low voice, Tim asked, “What are the nuurg? I understand giants, but these are bigger, are they not? These monsters are something else.”

Nath couldn’t really explain it himself. There were plenty of creatures in this world he hadn’t seen before. He hadn’t even seen most of the dragons. But one thing was certain: the nuurg were a twisted abomination brought about by the titans. He rubbed the neck of his wrath horn. “I believe they are a mix of orc and giant blood. Maybe there’s dark magic behind it. We were in Urslay, the giant home in the mountains, not so long ago. There were faces from all of the races as big as them. Somehow, the titans are building an army of giant races.”

“Are you telling me there’s going to be a lot more of them?” Tim thumbed the sweat off his brow.

“They war with the dragons, not men.”

“I say it’s man’s fight as much as any. We’re slaves to those beasts.” Tim’s grip tightened on his reins, making a squeaking sound. “So what’s the plan?”

“We ride in and take them out, but you don’t need to come,” Nath said. “You’ve done enough by leading us here. I thank you.”

“I might not be as young as I used to be, but there’s still plenty of fight left in me. I can’t just stand here, watch, and do nothing.” He pulled out his sword. “I want to fight.”

Nath nodded. “I know you do. So, you said there were ten that patrolled the towns?”

“Yes. And you’ve killed two, so now there’ll be eight. They stay in at night and make plenty of noise in the morning. But they aren’t alone in there. They keep our people, who need to be freed.”

“Oh.” Nath noticed Brenwar’s eyes on him. “That changes things.”

“Aye,” Brenwar said. His eyes were intent on the nuurg fortress. “We can’t just storm in there and bust their bones up. We’ll have to be more careful. I don’t like being careful.”

The nuurg sentry crunched through the bone, chewed it up, and swallowed it down.

“I suppose the nuurg expect company before long.” Nath readied the satchel he’d put the contents from Brenwar’s chest in. “We should just give them what they expect then.” He took out a potion vial. A tangerine-colored fluid swirled within.

Tim’s eyes enlarged. “Is that magic? What are you going to do with it?”

“I’m going to make Brenwar drink it.”

“No you are not!” the dwarf objected.

“Well, I’m not drinking it, and I’m in charge, so there you go.”

“What does it do?” Tim asked.

“It’s a polymorph potion. It will turn you into whatever you want to be, for a short time.” Nath held the vial up against the sky. Mystic fragments twinkled within. “The idea is Brenwar drinks it and turns himself into one of the nuurg. As a disguise. He waltzes me in there as his—”

“I’ll drink it! Let me drink it!” Tim’s fingers grasped at the air.

“Aye, let him drink it. He’s volunteering for it. Let the soldier have at it.” Brenwar pumped his skeleton fist. “It’s a good idea.”

“But they’ll be expecting two nuurg, not one,” Nath said.

“You didn’t say that.”

“We have to do it right if we want to pull this off.”

“What do I do?” Tim asked.

“Think of the nuurg that come into your town. The one I slew. Can you picture it?”

Tim nodded.

Nath handed the legionnaire the vial. “Then drink half of this and concentrate on its image.”

Without hesitation, Tim took the vial and slurped half of it down then handed the vial back to Nath. “I tingle.”

“Oh, you’ll tingle,” Nath said. He gave the vial to Brenwar and sat behind him. “Your turn, faithful friend.”

“Hah.” Brenwar frowned, closed his eyes, and swallowed the remainder of the potion. “Happy?”

“Delighted.” Nath dismounted.

“Oh my stars,” Tim said. His hands were outstretched. He gaped at them. The man’s body contorted and grew. His face became mean and ugly. His body filled the saddle. In mere moments he’d gone from man to man-monster. His one eye blinked. “Did it work?”

“Perfectly.” Nath turned to Brenwar. The dwarf was now a nuurg like the one he’d slain, but something wasn’t right. “We might have a problem.”

“You can say that again. I look like an orc again. A giant one at that.”

“That’s not it. The problem is you still have more beard than face.”

Transformed into nuurg, Brenwar and Tim rode on the wrath horns. They took a road that led straight to the fortress with Nath in tow behind them, hands bound up by a rope.

Brenwar grumbled under his beard, “I even smell as bad as they do.” He caught Tim smiling and glowered at the man-turned-giant. “The nuurg don’t smile.”

“I can’t help it. I still tingle.”

“Nath, what do I do if they say something about my beard? Can I bash them then?” asked Brenwar.

“I don’t know. Let’s hope it doesn’t come up.” It wasn’t that the nuurg didn’t have facial hair. Many of them had plenty, but not to the extent it looked like a black bush beneath their faces.

“I can do the talking,” Tim suggested. “I’ve communicated with them plenty of times before. I have a feel for them.”

Brenwar drifted back and said, “That’s fine by me.”

Closing in on the fortress, Nath caught a glimpse of the nuurg sentry. It tossed the stag’s antlers aside and picked up its spear, barring the gate that led into the fortress with its body.

Tim and his wrath horn came to a stop several feet away from the sentry. He didn’t say a word. The sentry didn’t say a word either. Its single eye bore into Tim. Spear ready, it moved by Tim and gave Brenwar a longer look. Brenwar glared right back. With a grunt, the heavy-footed cyclops made it over to Nath. A bunch of men’s skulls made up its belt.

Here we go.

The cyclops stood a full three feet of muscle taller than Nath. It leaned down, nostrils flaring, and sniffed him. With its finger, it poked Nath in the chest, knocking him down.

Nath got up but kept his eyes down and didn’t say a word.

The nuurg poked him harder.

Nath shuffled back without falling.

Someone’s going to lose a finger!

“Quit fooling around with the prisoner! Let us in. I hunger,” Tim said.

The nuurg sentry touched Nath’s cheek with its fingers and said, “He’s pretty like a bauble. I want his head. Humph. That hair would look fine on my belt.”

“We’ll cast bones to see who gets what. Now open the door,” Brenwar interjected.

The sentry waggled the spear in front of Nath’s eyes. “I bet those eyes would make a fine seasoning for people stew.” He breathed on Nath.

Nath coughed.

Sultans of Sulfur, that’s awful.

The cyclops walked away. A pair of twelve-foot-high doors still barred the entrance to the fortress. The brute put its back into it and shoved both doors open wide. With a quick look back at Nath, Tim the nuurg led them inside.

The fortress wasn’t very big. Square and straight on all sides, it would house about fifty men in close quarters—or ten nuurg. The middle was an open courtyard, and the rest of the establishment was nothing but barracks and stables.

The nuurg sentry made its way over to one of the barracks. It was taller than the doorframe. The nuurg pounded on it with its fist, saying, “Bruke! Bruke! Wake! A meal awaits!” The sentry stepped back.

A loud moan stirred within the confines of the wooden barracks. The door swung open, smacking against the frame of the building with a loud
whack
. A big body filled the doorway, ducked down, and squeezed beneath the frame. It was a nuurg, a huge one-eyed orc with small knuckle-like horns on its head. Bare chested, but furs and hides covered it below the waist. “Why did you disturb me? What is it?”

At least they speak Common.

“What do you mean?” the sentry said, irritated. It pointed with its spear. “See for yourself.”

Bruke rubbed his eye and yawned. He peered beyond Tim and Brenwar. Spying Nath, he blinked. Warily, he leaned over and grabbed a halberd that was leaned against the barracks. “That one is too fast to be fooled.” He gave Tim and Brenwar a look. “How did you catch that one?”

“Caught him hiding. Hemmed him in and overpowered him.” Tim shifted in his saddle. “He’s slippery. Not slippery enough. Heh heh.”

In a fierce voice, Bruke said, “There was mention of a dwarf. Where’s the dwarf?”

Brenwar the nuurg held up Mortuun the war hammer. “Dead by his own hammer.”

Studying Brenwar and the weapon, Bruke said, “Something smells about your story.”

More of the nuurg emerged from their barracks. Each carried a heavy weapon crafted from iron and steel. In a few long strides, they had encircled Nath and his companions.

Nath counted heads.

…Six, seven, eight. The full welcoming party has arrived. Unless Tim’s count is wrong.

He noted the faces of people crowded back in the shadows of the barracks. He felt their hearts racing.

These people are terrified.

“I don’t remember you having a beard,” Bruke said to Brenwar the nuurg. “And where’s your weapon?”

“It got lost in a mud hole, but this one is fine.” He held the hammer in front of Bruke’s face. “Just fine.”

Bruke’s nostrils widened. His shoulders tensed. “You don’t talk like yourself. You don’t smell like yourself. You smell…dwarven.”

Nath caught a look from Brenwar. He gave a quick nod.

“Do you want to know why I smell like a dwarf?” Brenwar said.

The nuurg sentry said with confidence, “Because you killed one.”

“No,” Brenwar replied. “Because I am one!” Powered by his bracers of strength, the dwarf-turned-nuurg cranked Mortuun back and dotted Bruke smack dab in the middle of the forehead.

Crack-Boom!

The entire fortress shook.

Bruke dropped to his knees. Knuckles dragging on the ground, the nuurg collapsed backward, dead as a stone.

Timothy wheeled his wrath horn around and snapped the reins. The bestial mount charged over the nuurg nearest him, horns down with ram-like force.

The flat-footed nuurg recovered their senses. Two of them focused their efforts on Nath. They rushed him.

“Brenwar!” Nath yelled. “I need Fang!”

The dwarven warrior in nuurg form had another nuurg pinned down to the ground by the neck. He bellowed, “Get him yourself.”

The nuurg collided right on top of Nath and drove him into the ground.

This is not part of the plan!