The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) (134 page)

CHAPTER 7

“No smiles? No joy?” Sasha said. “You men should be happy. You saved another town.”

Brenwar and Pilpin each snorted a grunt. Shum and Hoven remained expressionless, and Bayzog’s face was creased in concentration.

“I’m happy,” Ben said, tossing some firewood into the smoking pit. “Who wouldn’t be, after surviving a battle with a monstrous dragon? Woo, I’m relieved!” He stirred the fire with a stick and rubbed his beard. “Don’t pay any mind to those sour faces over there. Especially the bearded ones.”

“I’d be happy, too, Mother,” Rerry said, stepping out of the woodland and dropping a stack of sticks on the ground, “if I’d gotten a few licks in on that hull dragon.” He drew his sword. Lightning-quick strokes cut the air.
Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish.
He slammed the blade back inside his scabbard. “But again I missed it, thanks to Samaz. I can’t always be his keeper, you know.”

Bayzog spoke up. “You did well, Son. It was your duty.”

“Does it always have to be my duty? After all, he’s older. He should be watching over me and not me over him. I sicken of it, Father. I want to fight, not sit watching Glum Face all the time.”

Bayzog lifted his eyes to the sky, shaking his head. The stars and moon twinkled behind the drifting clouds, but that wasn’t all. Winged silhouettes drifted through the sky, sending a chill through him. He noticed Shum and Hoven glancing upward as well. “Sasha, how about you conceal these flames?”

Warming her hands, she was just about to sit down beside him when she paused and kissed him on the head. “I’d love to.”

She scratched up a handful of dirt from the ground, rubbed it in her hands, and began muttering a quick incantation. Tossing the dirt into the air, where it sparkled bright with energy, she said, “Azzah!”

A dimness formed over them, stretching from tree limb to tree limb.

“Well done,” Bayzog said. He took her by the hand and kissed her. “I couldn’t do better myself.”

“I know,” she giggled as she took her place beside him. She clasped her warm hands around his. “Some things take a woman’s touch.”

“Like your cooking,” Ben piped in. “Please don’t let Brenwar and Pilpin make supper again. It tasted like baked bark.”

Pilpin tossed a metal pot in the fire and chomped his teeth. “You cook, then. We don’t need as much food as you anyway, do we Brenwar?”

Brenwar groaned in agreement.

Rerry plucked the pot out of the fire and tossed it back and forth until the metal cooled, saying, “I’ll make it. Something with some elven zeal will lift these dour spirits.” He patted his belly. “And I’m too hungry to wait for all this bickering to end.” He walked away with a sigh.

Bayzog could feel something he didn’t like: pressure. There was fatigue in everyone’s movements. Heavy concern in their faces. None more so than Brenwar’s. Losing his charge, Nath Dragon, had unsettled the ever-stout dwarf. He’d been edgy ever since Nath took things into his own hands. It left everyone uncertain.

“How much farther, Shum?” Bayzog said.

The ranger was sharpening his elven blade with a rune-faced whetstone while Hoven hummed a gentle tune. “A few more days. You’ll see. The land starts to decay. Darken. Leaves fall from the trees out of season. I assume there’ll be more encounters on our way. Let’s hope we can avoid most of them.”

“That hull dragon was unavoidable, that much is certain,” Ben said. “It was its own city. Do you think there will be more hulls? I’m running low on exploding arrows.”

“Then take better aim with them,” Brenwar growled. “Unless Bayzog can conjure up more.”

Bayzog shook his head.

“Oh,” Ben continued, “maybe I need some practice. Why don’t you put an apple on your head and let me shoot it?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“Other than it being a shame to waste a good piece of fruit, why yes, I think I would.” Ben chuckled.

Brenwar folded his arms over his chest and said, “Pah. All you do is waste arrows and your breath.”

Pilpin barked a laugh.

Bayzog tuned them out. They’d gone on like this for hours, but it wasn’t the worst thing. It kept an edge about them, and they needed that. It had taken Sasha some time, but she’d gotten used to it. He squeezed her hand. She looked over and smiled at him. Regardless of the darkness, doubt, and despair that surrounded them, she seemed happy.

“I’d better go check on Samaz,” he said. “It’s been awhile. Would you like to come along?”

She stroked his long black hair, rubbed his back, and said, “No. I’ll help Rerry prepare our supper. He’s a horrible cook, but he tries. You go. Take all the time you need with our quieter son.”

“Save me some stew.” He patted her knee and departed.

***

Samaz sat cross legged out on the end of a rocky crag. The stiff breeze bristled his short black hair and played with his robes, which were snug around his body. He didn’t turn as Bayzog approached. Instead, his chin was tilted up and his eyes were glassy and dreamy.

Of all the things I’ve dealt with, this always seems the most strange.

Samaz had always been like this. He’d sit up in his bed, late at night, eyes open, staring at nothing yet everything.

I’d love to see what’s in that mind of his.

Quietly, Bayzog eased down into sitting position. It was best not to disturb Samaz from his slumbers. He’d broken Rerry’s wrist for it once. It was no wonder the brothers bickered so much and Rerry resented him.

Bayzog crossed his legs the same as Samaz, closed his eyes, and relaxed. They used to do this all the time, have long whiles of peace and quiet. It soothed him, and he was certain it brought comfort to Samaz as well. His thick-set son, though aloof and distant, no doubt knew he was there. Samaz had amazing intuition. Rerry could never sneak up on him, nor beat Samaz at hide and seek, either.

The crickets chirped, and the distant pixies played. Bayzog could feel his elven roots stretching out and acclimating to the sound of the woods: the rustling of branches, hooves that scurried through the night. He’d gotten more in tune with his elven roots over the past twenty-five years, and it had been good. He started to breathe easy. His taut shoulders relaxed. He became one with his son. One with nature.

Moments went by.

“Father,” Samaz said, softly.

Bayzog opened his eyes, turned, and faced his son. Samaz’s features were covered in sweat, and his dark eyes were wide. Placing his hand on his son’s chest, he felt the young part-elf’s heart pounding.

Thump-thump … thump-thump … thump-thump …

Unable to hide his worry, he asked, “What is it, Son?”

A silvery tear dripped down Samaz’s cheek. His body trembled. “I–I saw a dragon die.” He pointed toward the sky.

Bayzog followed his finger.

A large black object dotted the sky, blotting out a small part of the rising moon. It sent a shiver through Bayzog. He stood up, and his slender jawline dropped. It was too big to be a dragon, yet it moved too slowly to be anything else, and something propelled it forward, dragging it over the mountain treetops.

“What is that, Samaz?” He shook his son by the shoulders. “Have you any idea?”

Teary eyed, Samaz spoke again, his voice more haunting this time. “I saw a dragon die.” He looked at Bayzog. “I saw Nath Dragon die.”

CHAPTER 8

The green and colorful fields were in a state of decay. Leaves fell from branches. Branches fell from trees. At night, the pixies no longer sang.

Nath stood in the morning mist and sighed. His clawed fingertips tingled. He felt tired. He never felt tired.

“Time to move,” said Gorlee, posing as Jason Haan. He was buckling his armor over his big frame. His sullen face with its hard eyes showed no sign of worry. “Seems we’re getting closer to something.”

“Yes,” Nath said, donning a leather tunic Selene had given him. It was plain, with no insignia of Barnabus, which was odd, seeing how everyone else was marked. It did have a special crest on it, a crown resting on wings. “I’m curious as to what that something is.”

He was speaking of Gorn Grattack.

Gorlee came closer, careful no one else was within earshot, and said, “It’s not too late to move on.”

“Nervous?”

“I feel something I cannot describe.”

“Does it make you feel any better that I feel the same way?”

Gorlee managed the grimmest of smiles on his warrior’s face. “It does.”

“Good then. Now listen, Gorlee. I’d just as soon you left to go find our friends Brenwar and Bayzog. You of all people have the best chance of coming out of this, and the fury no longer hunts you. I’d just as soon you slipped out, first chance you got. Someone else will have to fight this war if I fail.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say such things,” Gorlee said, buckling on his helmet.

“Things need to be clear.”

Without another word, Nath mounted his horse, and Gorlee followed suit. The army finished breaking down the camp, loaded up, and was on the move again. Through the misty rain they went, mile after mile, league after league.

Nath felt incomplete. He forged on through his doubts. Could he trust Selene at all? Could he trust himself? He’d made plenty of bad decisions. The Truce he had agreed to might have been the worst of them all.

But I couldn’t let my friends die, even though they were willing to. What kind of friend would I be if I had let them die?

He must not have done the right thing, though, because the farther they went, the smaller he felt inside.

Near evening, when they were cresting a hill made up of fallen trees and dried-up and broken branches, Selene appeared. She rode on the back of a dark grey horse. Her robes were deep violet woven in red, and her black dragon tail hung over both sides of the saddle. Draykis were on either side of her.

“We are near, Nath,” she said, coming along his side and leading him away. “Come.” She glanced at Gorlee and then spoke to the draykis commanders. “Stay here with the rest of the army. We shall return. Wait.”

Without a glance back, Nath followed Selene through the barren mountain range. It was a territory he was unfamiliar with. They would be hard pressed to push an army along this pathway, which cut through a thick comb of briars, thickets, and dying trees. And even though the forces of Barnabus were anything but his kind of people, he felt abandoned without them. A little more so without Gorlee in tow.

No one watching my back now.

Ahead, Selene rode tall in the saddle as always. She had a gentle sway in her body as she rode, plodding along, patient, eyes forward. The tip of her tail lay flat over the saddle. Sometimes he noticed that it would whip back and forth, caress her hair, or coil along her waist. Not now.

She’s nervous? Perhaps she
is
on my side.

After miles of riding through the dank day, she stopped her horse and looked back at him. “Are you ready?”

“There’s never been a moment that I wasn’t,” he said, smiling weakly.

“Huh,” she said, dismounting. “We’ll leave the horses here. Are you all right with that, or are you more comfortable around pets?”

Nath slid off his horse and hitched the reins over a branch. “Walking is fine by me, company or not.” He stretched out his long arms, rolled his shoulders, and cracked his neck. He puffed a ring of smoke. “I’m ready to greet him.”

Selene came closer and locked her arm around his. There was a warm-soft texture to her scales. Standing almost as tall as he, she looked up into his eyes. “Don’t do anything rash.”

“Me?”

“Just keep your tongue in place and let me do the talking. Follow my lead.”

“Silence and inaction aren’t my better qualities.”

“No, no they aren’t. But it’s your life, Nath. Your actions will determine how much longer you keep it.”

He squeezed her hands and held them to his chest. He wasn’t sure why. He just did it.

She didn’t resist.

That’s when he said to her, “Isn’t your life worth something, too?”

“I can live with my choices, Nath. I’ve lived for them. I’ll die for them. Not even you can change that.”

The morbid statement created a void inside him.

Her fingers slipped out of his, and she walked away, tail dragging over the path.

An ominous dragon-woman puzzle, that’s what she is. If I live, I might just write a poem about this.

CHAPTER 9

Gorlee fidgeted inside his armor. He was of no use to Nath now. Selene had him. His effort to stay close had been blocked. They’d been gone for hours, and darkness had come.

“Get back with the rest of the troops,” one of the draykis commanders hissed. He had great black wings on his back, and he was very tall and ominous inside his patchwork of metal armor. “We’ll watch the pass.”

“I don’t recall the High Priestess removing my authority. I’m to watch after the Dragon Prince, so far as I can.”

“There is nothing to watch now,” the draykis said, looking down the path Nath and Selene had taken. “But soon, I’m certain, there will be a funeral.”

“Until I see a body, I’m just fine right where I am.”

The draykis grabbed Gorlee’s horse by the harness and jerked its neck. The horse nickered.

“Ride your beast away,” it said. “This army is under the watch of the draykis now, not men.”

Gorlee looked into its face of scales and beady eyes and said through his teeth, “Let … go.”

“Move along, human,” the draykis said, releasing the harness and walking away. “Huh-huh, move along. There are four of us and just one of you, and any one of us can tear you in two.”

Gorlee didn’t doubt he meant it. Very few mortals could handle draykis. But he wasn’t mortal. He clenched the reins of his horse and nudged it away.

“Enjoy your sleep, human, while we who need no sleep watch over things. Huh-huh,” it said, following with a hiss.

Gorlee moved deeper into the ranks, where the army made camp. There was little reason to begin a scuffle with the draykis. After all, they were Selene’s most trusted. Them, and a handful of acolytes. He’d been clever enough to fool her. He had fooled them all, taking on the identity of Jason Haan. Selene and the draykis didn’t pay much attention to the men in the ranks. She’d grouped the different races of followers among themselves. In the ranks were goblins, orcs, gnolls, and men as hard as you’d ever meet. Fat, big, ugly, or rangy, they fought for greed. Gold. A twisted form of glory. Now he sat among them, listening to their coarse talk. Their usual tone, one of ruthless mirth, was now replaced by a dull sort of melancholy. It seemed that the draykis weren’t the only ones pushing them around. So were the other races, not to forget the lizard men.

“They’re showing their colors,” one man said. His scarred face was shadowed in the fire. “Pushing us around.”

“The orcs have been hoarding our rations.”

“The goblins slide away with our steel,” said another man, whose beard hung to his knees. “I caught one with a quiver of my arrows and throttled him.” He looked up at Gorlee. “Commander Haan, may I ask what in Narnum is going on?”

Gorlee didn’t have the answer to that. The truth was he’d been more concerned about Nath. But he was aware that some of the captains, the human ones, had been kept out of some of the meetings. It happened from time to time, but of late it had been more frequent. “Don’t fret. I’ll speak with the acolyte chiefs at first light.”

The bearded man spit a wad of tobacco on the ground and looked into the sky, shaking his head. “Something is not right about this,” he muttered.

All the others continued to mumble and grumble and complain among themselves.

Gorlee didn’t entirely understand it all, but he’d been around the races long enough to know that humans weren’t born with as much wickedness as the other kinds. They just had an unpredictable flair about things.

He started away toward the edge of the human camp and took a walk. The entire time, he was listening to the other races. After all, he understood all their languages. Languages were second nature to him. He didn’t hear much, however. The boisterous orcs were quiet. The gnolls gnawed on bones. The goblins stitched up their crude armor and painted themselves with bright, ghastly images. And the lizard men, who talked little at the best of times, now hardly breathed a hiss.

Gorlee kept walking, keeping his distance, but he could feel their eyes on him. The night air with its dripping rain contributed to an already very heavy tension.

Something is wrong,
he thought.
Very, very wrong.

He wondered if he’d been discovered. Perhaps Selene had known his identity all along. Maybe the feline fury had tipped her off after all. The dragon cat was as cunning and quick as any dragon. He tried to shake the feeling. Rubbed his hands together. He felt chilled.

Perhaps it’s time to change. Surely I can make off through the woods as something undetectable. Nath Dragon needs my help.

A commotion caught his ear. A small group of goblins barreled their way into the human camp, carrying torches and making a fuss. In an instant, a crowd of angry men gathered around the goblins, shouting.

Gorlee pressed his way into the throng. “What’s going on?” he yelled. “Get out of my way, men!”

The surge of bodies didn’t part. Instead, the knot of men tightened, and their voices became angrier. Standing taller than all of them, Gorlee could see the goblins standing in the middle of the fray, screaming and waving their torches back and forth. They yelled in Goblin. Gorlee’s blood froze as he recognized the words they said.

“Kill them, dragons! Kill them all!”

Suddenly, a large ring of dark shadows dropped from the sky, surrounding the human camp. The dragons, bigger than horses, spread their wings, corralling the dumbfounded men. Gorlee heard a sharp draw of air fill all the dragons’ lungs. The dragons’ eyes glowed with light, and he screamed, “Get down! Get down!”

Bright red-orange flashes roared from their mouths, setting fire to everything. To everyone. Including himself.

“No! Stop! What are you doing?”

The sound of agony. The intense heat. The horrid scramble of bodies overwhelmed him.