Flight of the Dragon (The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 5 of 10) (Tail of the Dragon) (7 page)

Brenwar’s head cocked from side to side like an old hawk’s. “Well, is Fang coming to our aid or not?”

Nath shrugged. He’d run through an entire list of commands with Fang. He’d barked out orders, and then he’d asked politely.

“Fang, take me to Balzurth.”

“Fang, please take me to Balzurth.”

Nath tried many other phrases.

“Fang, bring fire. Summon rain. Lightning. Ice!”

Holding the sword over his head, he said, “By the power of Balzurth!”

The blade did not charge up in his hand. Its metal and pommel remained lukewarm to his commands and promptings.

Leaning on his hammer, Brenwar said, “You know, when I command the thunder of Mortuun, I never have any trouble.” He patted the war hammer’s fat head. “He does exactly as I say.”

Nath held his great blade in his arms and flipped it around. “Well, I guess those powers only unleash when they are needed. Truly needed. In the meantime, Fang is still the finest sword ever made.” He flashed a smile. “And you know what, he’s always been there for me whenever I’ve really needed him. Maybe he doesn’t turn it loose until the danger is truly imminent. Perhaps he’s wiser than I and preserves his power.”

“Perhaps.” Brenwar hefted Mortuun over both of his shoulders and rested his hands on the ends. “Can we start walking now? All of this standing around feels a little silly. We need to move, whether it’s an inch or a mile. That’s progress.”

“I suppose so.” Nath took the lead. “North it is, then. We’ll just have to do what we normally do and find more clues along the way.”

“Aye. That’s the way I like it.”

They walked for the better part of the day. Storm clouds rumbled overhead. Light drops of rain splatted off Nath’s scales. He carried Fang in his arms like a small child, talking to the blade from time to time, trying to connect. Fang was like a brother in some ways. Not a servant but family. His father had often said, “Take care of the little things, and then you can be trusted with true riches.” Perhaps Nath hadn’t cared for the blade as he should.

“We are nearing some towns. We might need to get some supplies and horses,” Brenwar said. “What do you say?”

“One horse should do. I don’t mind running.” He took out a cloth he had and started rubbing it over the blade. “I don’t know if this feels good or not, Fang, but I hope you like it. I never saw the need to clean a blade which always shines and never nicks, but that’s no reason not to give you the care any other fine sword would get.”

Brenwar held Mortuun out before himself and said to it, “You like the dirt, don’t you. Heh-heh.” He head butted the flat of his hammer. “I like the dirt, and busted-up orcs and giants, too.”

A couple of miles later, they crested a hill and surveyed the town resting on a flat plain between the steep hillsides. Night was falling on the small wood-framed homes and stone buildings. Men and women were finishing up their day and gathering the children inside. Firelight could be seen through the windows.

On one knee, Brenwar said, “I can’t help but be suspicious.” He took a deep draw through his nose. “Should I go, or should you go?”

Nath gave a little shrug. He never would have had the slightest trepidation going into any town of any kind before. That had changed. Now, he couldn’t go anywhere without some sort of suspicion. He had enemies of all sorts, and no one could be trusted. It was a sad time. A dark time. “Probably not the best time to go in there. Not in the dark of night. We could wait it out until morning… or just keep moving.”

“Eh, I’m fine walking. I wouldn’t mind a bite to eat though. Can’t remember the last time I ate as a matter of fact.” Brenwar pounded his armor over his stomach. “It’s hard to admit that.”

“You must be hungry then. I’ve never heard you mention it before.”

“All the fighting works up the ol’ dwarven appetite. I miss the feasts that used to come at the end of the battle.” Brenwar peeled a piece of bark from a tree and chewed on the end. “Not bad. Could use some salt and pepper.”

Nath couldn’t help but chuckle. “You’d eat dirt if it would fill you.”

“I’ll have plenty of dirt to eat in the grave.”

“Brenwar, I’m pretty sure I can rustle up some game. We can cook it on an open fire. We’re pretty far away, so I don’t think anyone will take notice.” He tipped his chin at the town down in the valley. “Or I can scurry down there and get some eggs from the chickens. Just like a weasel. It’d be stealing, but we are pretty hungry.”

“Dwarves don’t steal. Dragons shouldn’t either.”

“True, but I could leave some coin. More than enough.”

Brenwar’s dark eyes were fixed on the village. His lips twitched. With an eyebrow perched, he said, “Nath, I’m tired of hiding. Let’s just go down there and ask. They can’t all be bad.” He sniffed. “Besides, something good is cooking.”

Nath got up on his feet, patted his belly, and said with a smile, “Well, I have to admit, I like your direct approach. Let’s follow your nose.”

Brenwar led. He ambled down the hill right into the very heart of the small town. No more than a couple hundred people could have lived there. The barns were small and the livestock few. Smoke puffed out several of the small chimneys, and the smell of baked bread and hot stew lingered in the air.

Nath’s mouth watered. He didn’t admit it, but he was just as hungry as Brenwar. He wasn’t going to mention it. He still couldn’t believe Brenwar had.

He had better not be going soft on me.

Many of the small, gabled houses had empty porch fronts, aside from one, where three men were standing outside, talking and smoking their pipes. The talking came to a stop as soon as Nath and Brenwar crossed their line of sight. Nath’s keen ears picked up one man’s whisper to another, “Fetch the magistrate.”

A lanky figure scurried across the street and vanished into the shadows. It left the remaining two men on the porch all alone to face Nath and Brenwar.

“Let me do the talking,” Nath said softly to Brenwar.

“Aye.”

Rerry and Samaz were faced with a difficult decision. What to do with Scar and his men? The choice was simple: knock them out and leave them or bring them along. Bringing them along would only slow their pace. Letting them go would bring more elves in pursuit. It was a no-win situation, but in the end, Rerry and Samaz took the elves as their captives.

Once his hands and his soldiers’ hands were secured behind their backs, Scar said, “You two don’t know what you’re doing, do you. Have you even taken anyone prisoner before? I venture to say no.”

“Just because you haven’t done something before doesn’t mean you aren’t any good at it.” Rerry kept Scar’s own sword lowered on the elf’s back. “Just keep walking and stop talking.”

“It might help if you mentioned where we were going,” Scar fired back. “And remember, you’re going to need to feed us.”

“Feed you!” Rerry said. “You left us to starve to death in that dungeon back there.”

“Orders are orders.”

“I’ve got an order for you.” Rerry sliced the rapier through a branch, cutting the limb clean. “Mind your tongue or lose it.”

Scar started laughing. “You’re a child. You wouldn’t hurt anybody.”

Rerry lifted his arm to strike the elf in the back of the head.

“Rerry!” Samaz said.

“What?”

“Are you planning on dragging him through the woods? Leave him be. He’s just trying to be annoying.” Samaz had the other two elven soldiers at sword point.

“He doesn’t have to try,” Rerry replied. “He just is.”

Scar let out another chuckle. His voice wasn’t as elegant as those of most elves. He was gruff. “Fine, boys. I’ll cooperate. But it wouldn’t hurt to mention where we’re going.” He eyed the sky. “South is good. South is Elome in the furthest, but I can’t imagine why you’d be going there.”

“It’s not your concern where we’re going.” Rerry shoved the soldier forward.

Scar stumbled onto a knee. Slowly, he got back up again.

A pair of hummingbirds with bright green feathers zipped by Rerry’s face and into the trees. “That was strange.”

“That’s a bad sign,” Scar said.

“You’re a bad sign.” Rerry shoved the man in the back again. “And quit buying time by falling down. You’re an elf. Elves don’t trip, especially not in the woods. A deer would trip before we did.”

“As you say.” Scar moved on, head down, stepping up his pace.

Rerry didn’t mind the faster pace. Behind him, Samaz and the other soldiers weren’t having any trouble keeping up. They weaved their way through the forest, dodging the trees and ducking the branches. In all truth, Rerry wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing. He wasn’t equipped to handle this situation. It was encumbering. Beyond encumbering.

What have I gotten us into?

He got a closer look at Scar’s backside. The man’s hands were tied behind his back with elven twine. The soldier’s palms were showing swordsman’s callouses thicker than Rerry’s. He felt his own. His callouses were small bumps by comparison. Scar’s hands were rough as cowhide, his muscles thick in the arms and shoulders, a bit more so than a typical elf’s. Scar moved with purpose and determination, but there was still the graceful ease of a fencer in his step. Rerry couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t in control. Scar still was, somehow.

I need to be careful. An enemy never shows his true intent until it’s too late.

They made it a few more miles, but then as they crossed through a thicket-filled gulch, the briars jabbed into their knees.

Scar spoke up again. “You know, it would be best if you remembered the farther south we go, the more likely it is we’ll run into elves. If they come upon us as your prisoners, it won’t go well for you.” Scar’s neck craned. His eyes were fixed in the trees. “It’ll be too late once you run into them. It’s best you turn yourselves over. As a matter of fact, I’ll even take you to Elome rather than back to the dungeon.” He walked around a low-hanging branch and turned around so he was walking backward, facing them. “I’ll be truthful. You’ll get better treatment there in Elome than you did back in the hole where I had you.”

“I’ll be making the decisions, thank you.”

Scar stopped, shaking his head slowly from side to side. “Boy, you don’t know what you’re doing.”

“Keep moving.” Rerry still had the rapier out, keeping Scar an arm and sword length away. Something crawled up his spine. He kept his eyes fixed on the elf. “I’m not playing games with you, Scar. Move.”

“You aren’t going to harm me. You aren’t going to harm my soldiers, either. You’re incapable.” Scar pursed his lips and let out a sharp whistle.

The two elven soldiers exploded into motion. Hands still tied behind their backs, they hopped up, bringing their knees to their chests and slipping their hands under their feet so that they were in front of them. Heads low, they bolted into the woods.

“Samaz!” Rerry’s head twisted back and forth between his brother and Scar. “Go after them!”

Samaz gave chase, but it was clear to Rerry his brother would never catch the leaner and quicker elves. Samaz wasn’t slow for a man, but he was for an elf.

“Ha ha ha!” Scar belted out a wicked laugh. “You’ll never catch them. At least not your brother. They’re gone. Long gone. It’s only a matter of time before they bring more after you, foolish boys.”

“Well, we still have you.” Rerry’s confident voice was now shaken.

“You don’t sound so sure of yourself, Rerry.” Scar walked right up to him and stared him in the eye with the sword right on his chest. “Make me march somewhere now, child.”

“Don’t tempt me, Scar. I might not kill you, but I won’t hesitate to maim you if you try to escape.”

Brows high, Scar said, “Really? Like your brother did? Do it.”

Rerry swallowed. Sweat rolled from his hairline into his eyes. The salty sweat stung. He blinked.

Scar struck. A leg sweep took Rerry from his feet and landed him flat on the ground. Before he could bounce back up, Scar’s boot collided with his ribs—once, twice, three times.

He curled up and groaned.

That did not just happen!

Rerry sat up just in time to see Scar standing a bit away under a tree with his rapier back in his hand. How Scar had slipped his bonds Rerry would never know.

With a grunt, the rugged elven soldier banged his shoulder into the tree, making a nasty
pop
. Pain filled his eyes, but it was quickly replaced with victory. “My shoulder was out of joint, not broken. Your bindings were weak. Your mind is as slow as a human’s.” Scar walked up and lorded over Rerry with his rapier. “Tell me, Rerry, who’s in command now?”

A man stepped off the porch with a curled wooden pipe in his hand. He was a rangy fellow, tall, with the broad shoulders of a farmer or a smith. He gave Nath a double take, looking up a little in his eyes and stepped back on the porch, meeting him at eye level again.

“Good evening, travelers.” Broad faced and fish eyed, he broke out in a sweat. “Pardon my directness, but what do you seek?”

“I apologize for the late intrusion, but we only seek to purchase some food and maybe a horse, and we’ll be on our way.” Nath smiled. “It certainly wasn’t our intention to cause a stir, and we hope we don’t.”

The rocking chair groaned as the other man on the porch shrank back in his seat. His fingers fidgeted with the chair’s arms, and he kept looking up at his friend and Nath’s sword.

The man with the pipe then said, “We don’t have much means these days.” He let out a stream of smoke and sucked on the end of his pipe. “It’s hard enough to feed ourselves. The crops aren’t what they used to be.” Sweat dripped down the side of the man’s cheek. “And truly, as much as we’d like to help out, we have a standard here where we take care of our own.”

Brenwar shifted on his feet. His mouth opened and shut twice before he finally spoke. “You’re telling me you can’t use any coin? Coin can buy you more food. Our offer will be generous.”

Looking down at Brenwar, the man said, “We can’t spare it.”

Brenwar stiffened. His fists balled up.

Nath wedged himself between the dwarf and the man with a polite nod. “We’ll be moving on then.”

With an air about him, the man said, “I think that’s for the better. As you say, you don’t want to create a stir. And folks are pretty jumpy around here.” He let out another stream of smoke. “We bid you safe travels.” He pointed at a pair of buildings, the rising moon visible between the two and added, “That avenue makes for the most discreet exit.”

Nath nodded, and with Brenwar at his side, headed down the alley.

“People aren’t very friendly these days,” Brenwar said under his breath.

“Or honest either,” Nath replied. “They do have food to spare, and I’ve never seen small places like this turn away anyone in need. Something’s going on.”

“We, I might be hungry enough to eat a four-tusked boar, but I’ll live.”

“Me too.” Nath took a look over his shoulder. The men from the porch had gathered around another figure who was little different than the rest of them—aside from a broadsword hung from his hip. He assumed it was the magistrate they’d sent for. All of their eyes followed him and Brenwar as the men argued in hushed voices. “It seems we caused a stir after all, didn’t we.”

“Aye.”

He and Brenwar passed between the buildings into where the open fields awaited. Nath pulled Brenwar aside, and the pair of them paused with their backs to one of the buildings. Under his breath, Nath said, “Let’s give it a moment and see what happens.”

Brenwar nodded.

Nath had a couple of concerns. As harmless as the simpler people of the country could often be, it didn’t always take much for them to get riled up and do something stupid. Second, given the nature of Nath’s enemies, there was no telling whether or not his enemies were among them. It wouldn’t surprise him a bit of a giant, a nuurg, or a flock of wurmers exploded out of one of the storehouses at any moment. It wouldn’t be the first time.

A drizzling rain began, dulling the sounds around them. Head tilted, Nath tried to make out what the men were saying. It wasn’t easy, given the vast distance between them and their use of lowered voices, but he could tell they were still arguing. It must have gone on for at least ten minutes before it came to a stop. There were some murmurings and the scrape of boots on the wooden porch and the faint creaking sound of a door opening and closing.

Nath peeked around the corner. The men on the porch were gone.

“Seems they’ve had enough excitement for one night,” Nath said under his breath. He eased away from the wall. “No eggs and biscuits tonight. I guess we’re going to have to head back to the woods and rustle up some possum.”

Shoulders slumped, Brenwar started his trek back into the woods. “Eating from a table is soft, anyway.”

A scuffle of dirt caught Nath’s ear. He grabbed Brenwar by the elbow and pulled him back into the shadows.

Someone on light feet was making his way down the alley. A man emerged from the alley and into the open plain. His eyes were forward, scanning the outline of the forest. He wore a cloak over his shoulders and held a broadsword at the ready. He moved well, with the technical craft of a seasoned soldier. He turned from side to side. Something dangled from his neck. It was metal, a whistle or something.

That must be the magistrate.

Staying low, ready to spring, the magistrate started toward the forest on soft feet.

Out of nowhere, Brenwar’s stomach rumbled like rolling thunder.

The magistrate whipped around. His eyes locked on Nath and Brenwar. He grabbed the whistle and put it to his mouth.