The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) (135 page)

CHAPTER 10

The path bottomed out. Selene stopped. The valley ahead was a barren half moon, surrounded by more mountains. Nath’s stomach became a little queasy as the stench of decay riled the air.

“What is this place?” he said to Selene.

Ahead, towering stones that only giants could have lain jutted out of the ground. They stood upright in a pattern, though some of them had fallen long ago. Many were coated in vines, and some of the blocks were covered in moss and weeds. Nath figured if he could fly and look down on them, the stones would spell out something.

“More temple ruins,” Selene said, taking a few slow steps forward. “I think you are familiar with them.”

Nath was, but these were bigger. Some of the stones stood as high as forty feet. He noticed that on some pairs of them, other great stones rested on top, forming massive gateways. It would take a hundred horses, maybe more, to move any one of them. He followed Selene, noting the ancient rune markings on the stones. He was familiar with the ancient use of portals. The scales on his neck tingled.

“This isn’t your typical ruin,” he said, looking up at the top of one. A live dragon with a slithering tongue sat perched up there. A grey scaler. Its glowing green eyes narrowed on him.

Nath’s eyes narrowed back. “He
is
here, isn’t he?”

“You can feel him,” Selene said. “Can’t you?”

Dark power. Deep. Penetrating. Suffocating. Evil. It would have taken a man’s breath away, dropped the stoutest warrior to his knees. A mist drifted over his ankles, hugging his scales and giving him a chill. Above, he noted more dragons perched on the stones: grey scalers, sky raiders, iron tusks, copper hides. The moonlight twinkled off their scales and claws.

“I hate to admit it, but I almost can’t feel at all.”

But the feeling wasn’t unfamiliar to him, either. There had been days when he’d had to face his father, Balzurth, knowing he had done wrong. The power that radiated from Balzurth was unimaginable sometimes. At times, it seemed his father’s mere thoughts could shake the room.

Nath swallowed. Summoned up his courage. Now he was facing a power just as great but unfamiliar. A power that wasn’t warm and fiery, but instead an icy breath of death.

He then heard his father’s voice inside his head. “
You can have faith in me or in your friends, but don’t forget to have faith in yourself, Nath.
”

“Are you scared, Nath?” Selene said, glancing back at him. “I think I see fear in your eyes. It worries me.”

“And I note a tremble in your voice,” he said, pulling back his shoulders and stepping to her side. “But I’d be lying if I said didn’t feel fearful.”

“Fear is good. It can give us an edge.”

“Us?”

She didn’t say anything, but it felt like a slip. A good one, the kind that gave his spirits a lift. Maybe Selene wasn’t going to double-cross him? He took a deep, silent breath through his nose and into his chest, stoking the dim fires within. Onward he went with Selene, through the network of colossal stones where dragons loomed like large gargoyles on top. Selene’s hand even gently brushed against his a couple of times.

“Remember,” she said, slowing her pace as they approached another rectangular archway, “don’t do anything unless I do something first.”

“I won’t,” he nodded. Gawking up at the archway, forty feet tall and twenty feet wide, he noticed a great chair of stone in the distance. On either side, great urns burned with the glow of a purplish-red fire. He’d seen such thrones before, and the sight sent another sliver of ice through his scales.

A dragon, bronze and long necked, squawked above them. Other dragons squawked in return. It seemed their arrival had been announced.

“Let’s go, then,” Nath said. And through the archway they went.

CHAPTER 11

“What in Guzan’s beard is that?” Brenwar said, staring up into the sky.

Bayzog had returned with Samaz, but he’d kept Samaz’s dream to himself. After all, dreams were open to interpretation.

“It looks like a rock,” Ben said, craning his neck and shielding his eyes.

The sun was rising again, and Bayzog hadn’t bothered to say anything until now. Everyone needed all the rest they could get, especially Sasha. Her pale eyes were bleary, and she stood by everyone else, gaping and yawning.

“How can this be, Bayzog?” she said. “It glows. Is it a dragon? A monster?”

Shum and Hoven crept along either side of her, staring as intently as everyone. Neither of the pair was ever rattled, so calm and poised in their expressionless demeanors. Now there was a puzzled, almost amazed look in their eyes. They glanced at each other and then at Bayzog.

Shum said, “Can you see it now, Bayzog?”

“It should seem familiar,” Hoven added.

“Well, if you can see what it is, then why don’t you spit it out?” Brenwar said, holding Pilpin by his ankles and up on his shoulders. “Does it kill the elves to be forthcoming about anything?”

“Why would that kill us?” Shum said.

Bayzog glided in between as Pilpin hopped off Brenwar’s shoulders and bared his axes.

“A moment, everyone,” Bayzog said, irritated, “if you please. We can wait, or I can shed some light upon this for all to see.”

“Do it then, wizard,” Brenwar said with a growl. “And make it quick. I’m about to pull the answers I want from a pair of elven skulls.” He glared at Shum and Hoven. “That’s no jest.”

Bayzog spread his arms out wide, revealing his slender hands from the wide necks of his sleeves. His fingers drummed the morning air, and he started an incantation. Before his eyes, the air shimmered with new life. The distant view of the land and sky twisted and warbled. He summoned more power within and muttered the final word of the spell in Elven.

“
Ishpahlan
!”

Ben gasped the loudest of the group. Some of the others stepped back.

“By my beard, what have you done?” Pilpin said in wonderment.

“It’s a wall of enhanced imagery,” Bayzog said, “making everything appear much closer than it is.”

“You can do that?”

“Fantastic, Father!” Rerry said, stepping closer to the wall. “Why haven’t you shown me this before?” Everything was closer, ten times at least. The trees, the rocks, the birds that flew in the sky. Rerry stretched his hand out.

“Don’t touch it!” Bayzog warned. “And don’t stare so long, either. It’ll make you dizzy.”

Brenwar stood close by, clawing his beard and grumbling to himself. “Where’d that rock go?”

Bayzog narrowed his eyes. It took time to adjust to looking through the magic wall, but just when he saw it, Brenwar cried out.

“It’s the Floating City!”

“That city?” Ben said, stepping closer. “Great Guzan! I see it now!”

The Floating City was there, floating straight toward them through the sky. Where it had seemed miles away, now it seemed as if it was right on top of them.

“Dragons are pulling that thing, Father,” Rerry said. “Hundreds of them!”

There they were, shackled by enormous chains to collars around their necks: dragons. All sorts. Black winged. Black tailed. All their eyes had a soft, green, radiant glow. Their leather wings labored over their backs as they pulled the city forward.

Bayzog felt Sasha’s hand on his arm.

“Dearest,” she said, “you have goose bumps. Never in my life have I ever seen you so stricken before.”

“What do we do, Father?” Rerry said, drawing his sword. “What do we do?”

“I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” Brenwar said. “I’m going to follow that city!”

CHAPTER 12

When the squawking of vultures roused him, Gorlee’s eyes fluttered open. He coughed, spat, and wiped the grit from the melted eyelets of his helmet. He rolled onto his back, wondering what was happening. A foul stench lingered in the air. He coughed again, louder this time, scattering the vultures that had landed.

How long have I been out?

He remembered the dragons. The intense heat. The screams. He had channeled his powers, changed, and blacked out, moments from his own flesh being charred to the bone. He pulled off the helmet he wore and studied the warped metal. The leather straps of his armor cracked and fell away. He peeled the remnants of metal from his stony skin and surveyed the area.

Oh my!

The human camp was smoke and ash now. Piles of bones and armor. Crawling on hands and knees, he looked around. Every man was dead. No survivors. The human ranks of Barnabus were gone.

So were the dragons, to his relief.

“What happened?” he gasped. “Why did they do this?” He staggered to his feet and stumbled through the ash. “Why did they leave so suddenly? I couldn’t have been out that long, could I?”

Judging by the sun, it was nearing the end of the next day, or so he thought. But he wasn’t sure. He broke off more of the stony cocoon that had formed over his skin, saving him from a certain end. Feeling weak and drained, he glanced at his pinkish skin.

“I’ll need something thicker than that.” He held his stomach and took a knee. “That dragon fire really sapped me.” With the ghost of a new instinct born of playing Jason Haan for months, his hand fell to his waist and searched for his sword. He broke the brittle scabbard from the belt. The sword was gone. “Great. But when did I ever really need such a thing?”

Forcing himself up to his feet, he made his way through the camp. It seemed the army had taken a turn away from the path Selene and Nath had followed. He checked the sky.

No dragons. Good.

Heavy in thought and trying to figure out what was going on, he headed down the path Nath had taken.

I don’t know what’s happened, but I hope I’m not too late to aid Nath Dragon.

CHAPTER 13

Passing under the huge stone, Nath’s senses caught fire. The landscape, the great throne, the colors of everything changed. He swore the sun rose and set. The moon emerged, dimmed, and made way for the sun to come out again. Holding his head, he squeezed his eyes shut and fought for his balance.

“What trick is this?” he said, reaching out for Selene. “Where are you?”

“I’m here,” she said, clasping her arm in his. “Easy, Nath. The feeling will pass.”

He pulled away and straightened himself. The moving ground seemed to settle beneath him. He glanced back at the monstrous portal. This side of it was still there, but changed somehow.

“Tell me,” he said, “what is that?”

“A barrier in time. It can move you forward or move you back. In this case,” she said, tilting her head toward the sky. “It moved us forward.”

As Nath looked up, every fiber of his being became taut. “Impossible!”

The Floating City hovered above. The jaxite stones, bright and brilliant blue, pulsated with eerie power.

“Isn’t it magnificent?” Selene said, checking her nails. “It was one of my better ideas, actually. Using a few small stones only controlled a few dragons, but with the entire city of stone, well, I believe Gorn Grattack can control them all.”

Nath gaped. This wasn’t something he would have ever imagined. Control of the entire city’s worth of powerful jaxite just might bend the will of all dragons who came near. Nalzambor wouldn’t stand a chance.

“I thought we were in this together, Selene.”

“Don’t misunderstand me,” she whispered, looking around. “I came up with this beforehand. I didn’t expect it to bear fruit already, but seeing it now, well.” She sighed. “It’s exhilarating.”

“You cannot control all of that power.”

“No, Nath, you’re right, I cannot.”

Golden eyes as big as moons, Nath watched the dragons who rested on their perches atop the buildings in the city. They had great metal chains around their necks.

“Did they pull it here?” he said to Selene. His blood became hot, and smoke rolled from his nostrils. “Was that your idea, too?”

“No, Nath Dragon,” said a powerful, self-assured, bone-rattling voice. “It was mine.”

Nath twisted his hips around and found himself facing the monstrous form of a dragon man.

“Allow me to introduce you to my master, Nath.” Selene opened her palm out for display. “This … is Gorn Grattack.”

Nath felt his heart skip and then pound like thunder. This dragon man’s evil aura disrupted every scale and every fiber of his makeup. Gorn stood eight feet in height, with great horns combed back from his head. His penetrating eyes burned with ice-cold fire. His countenance had hard, terrifying features. His scales shifted between white, grey, and black. His hands were great paws with steel-rending claws. Chin high and shoulders broad, there was an omnipotent air about him.

“Time to talk, Nath Dragon,” Gorn said, turning his back on him. A great tail swept over the ground behind him as he headed toward the throne. “Come.”

Nath had fought creatures far bigger than Gorn—giants, ettins, dragons, and the lurker—but he had never felt as small as he did now. Unlocking his frozen knees, he moved forward as if with a will not his own. The commanding power of Gorn’s voice was overwhelming, much like that of his father, Balzurth.

Selene’s firm but gentle touch pushed him along.

His eyes met hers.

They spoke to him through his muddled thoughts.
Don’t do anything until I do.

She had said that, but it might be too late to do anything by then. He’d have to trust her for now. He took a breath. Forced himself forward. He could handle being in the presence of his father, the most powerful dragon of all.

Certainly I can handle Gorn.

Blood rushed through him. His aversion to evil ignited over and over. His thoughts raced. What would become of Nalzambor under Gorn’s rule? It would be devastated.

I must stop this monster!
he thought, but the conviction was not there.
But how?

Gorn stopped at the stone throne—which was still far too big for him—and turned.

“Can you feel it, Nath Dragon?” Gorn said. His tongue licked out, tasting the air.

“Feel what?”

“Defeat,” Gorn said, hissing somewhat. “Inevitable defeat.”

Nath pulled his shoulders back a little, lifted his chin, and said, “I’m surprised, Gorn. I thought you’d be more confident than that. I’m more than happy to accept your surrender.” He looked at Selene, dusted his hands off, and added, “That was easy.”

Gorn laughed a booming laugh. “Ha!” Flames shot from his nose. “I must admit, I’ve not done that in centuries. I give you credit, foolish gnat.”

“It’s Nath!”

Gorn’s clawed hands clutched in and out. His black tongue licked over his snout. He then said, “I bet your father doesn’t appreciate your clever tongue, but I find merit in it. The same as I do in a jackal when it laughs. Ha-ha-ha. Nath Dragon, Balzurth’s lone spawn, born with a foul tongue. It’s no surprise he is so disappointed in you.”

“Everything can be disappointing. It just depends on your perspective of things. For example,” Nath said, moving closer. “I’m disappointed in you. I expected you to be bigger. Scarier. But you’re hardly a monster at all. I’ve seen worse.” He glanced at Selene. “I’ve faced more terrible. Are you sure this is the Dark Dragon Lord?”

“Mind yourself, fool!” Selene said, drawing her hand back. “Silence your tongue!”

Nath couldn’t. He tended to run his mouth when he was scared. It was a reflex of sorts. Something about his mouthing off soothed him within. Dropping his hands to his hips, he faced Gorn. “What do you want of me, Gorn? Do we fight? Talk? Bicker like old women at one another? Does my death give you victory in this war?”

“I don’t need your death to win,” Gorn said. “I won the moment you stepped through that portal. Ha-ha-ha.”

Nath felt his scales stand up on end. What had happened? What had he done? “I don’t see how.”

“Oh,” Gorn said, rubbing his chin, “you don’t see it? Well then, let me show you.” Gorn stretched his arms out toward the great stone portal and huffed in Dragonese. A brilliant mirage of dark colors twisted and turned within.

Slowly, images formed.

Nath turned and gaped.

Dragons covered the world in flame.