The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) (97 page)

CHAPTER 30

Nath jerked away.

“Argh!”

A claw snapped down on his arm with the power of an iron trap. A dragon had a hold of him.

Nath drew his free arm back and socked it in the ribs. The dragon shook him like a rag, slamming his head into the stone. Bright spots of light burst in his eyes, and blood trickled down his scalp, over his nose. He eyed the creature.

A spiny-backed crawler. Cripes!

Half the size of Nath, its burgeoning abdomen dragged over the stone as it tried to sling him back and forth. With a neck thick as a tree trunk, its snout was long and wide. It had four short legs with six claws each, and its sandstone-colored wings were clawed as well. More like a lizard, no horns adorned its wide, flat head. Rows of small spikes covered its back, which looked glassy in the sunlight.

“Let go!” Nath said, punching it again.

It shook him like a dog tearing away a bone.

Eyes watering, Nath held back his cry and drew back his fist once more.

The spiny-back’s eyes followed the move. Jaws locked, its thin lips curled up over its sharp teeth. It rumbled a growl.

“Great Dragons!”

Spiny-backed crawlers—a smallish breed—tended to hide along riverbanks and dry stretches of land. They liked to dig and tunnel. Patient, they’d wait for their prey from beneath the grit and strike quicker than a flying arrow. Once their jaws locked, there was no unlocking them unless their prey killed them.

Nath tried to dash the sweat out of his eyes by blinking. He shook his head, looked deep into the dragon’s eyes, and spoke in Dragonese to it.

“Release me.”

The dragon bit down harder.

Nath’s tongue clove to the roof of his mouth. The dragon was moments away from taking his arm off at the elbow. Spiny-backs’ teeth were some of the hardest and sharpest of them all. They could bite through steel with them.

Think, Nath Dragon, think!

The dragon shook its thick neck again.

Nath heard Fang rattle on his back. With his good arm, he reached back and slipped Dragon Claw out of the hilt. He waved the glimmering blade in front of the dragon’s watching eyes.

“Don’t make me use this,” he said in Dragonese. If he had to kill a dragon to save Bayzog, then so be it. Blood racing, he drew Dragon Claw back. “I’ll do what I must do.”

Its jaws bit deeper.

Nath groaned, brought the dagger down, and stopped inches from its back. He eyed its wings. One dangled on its side, broken. The other, hemmed into its side, was fine. It fluttered a bit and stopped. Nath jabbed Dragon Claw into the rock.

“Your eyes, tail and wings,” he said, swallowing, “they aren’t darkened.” He reached over and stroked its broken wing.

The dragon jerked a little.

Nath sucked through his teeth and said in more Dragonese, “Easy … friend.” He inspected the wing more. It had been gnawed up, and the joint between the wing and back was broken. It would take a long time to heal. Flying dragons without their wings were not only vulnerable but insecure as well. Ignoring the pain exploding in his head, he stroked the dragon over the eyes. “Who did this to you?”

The scaly brows on the dragon lifted toward the city in the sky.

“I see,” Nath said, looking up and around, not forgetting the hornets and dragons were still in chase. “Great.” He took a seat on his rump, with the dragon attached to his forearm. It seemed that along with its injury, the spiny-back had received new orders. Another dragon must have flown down and ordered it to guard the pass over the rock with its life. Nath stroked its eyes again. A blast of smoke came from its nostrils. “Despite your effort to detach my arm from my elbow, I do consider this good fortune. Your bite is far less revealing than your lack of roar. If you’d roared, dragons certainly would have swarmed me.”

The spiny-backed dragon’s eyes remained intent on his, fierce and unblinking.

All right, Nath Dragon, there’s no time for this. All those dragons will return soon enough. What options do you have?
He eyed Dragon Claw.
If I must, I must.
He peered over the rock. He could always plunge into the river waters below and hope to shake the dragon off. Perhaps then it would let go.

“That’s your stupidest idea ever, Nath Dragon!”

Great. Now I’m talking to myself.

At the moment, he was at the mercy of the dragon. He wasn’t going anywhere. He closed his eyes and sighed. Suddenly, he heard his father’s voice speaking inside his head.

Sometimes compassion can be a friend to your enemies.

His head snapped up.

“Father?”

He searched the skies. The clouds. Only the wind howling through the rocks answered. He looked at the dragon and said, “Did you hear that?”

The dragon didn’t move. Nath had chills on his neck, and it felt like the scales on his arms stood up. As much as he had dreaded his father’s throne-shaking voice in the past, he longed for it now.

Perhaps I’m just recalling something I’ve long forgotten.

He patted the dragon. Rubbed the scales around its neck in the tender spots they enjoyed. Even dragons had places they couldn’t scratch that itched. He heard a growl and stopped.

“Was that your belly?”

The heavy belly rumbled and groaned.

“My, you’ve been up here awhile. Years perhaps, judging by that moan.” Nath’s brows buckled. A fire ignited inside and drowned out the piercing pain in his arm. “Whoever did this is a cruel master.” He thought of the poachers. The hunt. The chase. For more than a hundred years, he had protected the dragons. Freed them from bondage. Freed them from chains. He felt ashamed. He’d lost sight of that somehow in the greater scheme of things.

“You know where you belong?”

It didn’t answer.

“Dragon Home,” he said, but in Dragonese. A lengthy and exotic name that had more bends than a river and syllables only heard in dreams.

A wink of golden light zipped high overhead. The sleek silhouette of a dragon streaked right behind it. Nath’s fingertips tingled. The chase of the golden hornets was almost over.

“Please let me go,” he urged.

The dragon’s eyes were stone cold.

“Ah, moving a mountain would be easier. Great Dragons!”

He looked at the next floating stone he needed to leap upon along his path to the Floating City. It didn’t look so bad. Perhaps this was the breaking point. The place no other had ever gotten past.

“Fine, then,” Nath said to the dragon. With his good arm, he scooped up the spiny-backed dragon and pulled him to his chest. The dragon remained still as a steel trap. It was awkward, like carrying a big, scaly dog.

“Gads, I’m strong! You must weigh over two hundred pounds.”

He eyed the next rock, floating fifteen feet away and five feet up. Nath gathered his legs underneath him and leapt. A second later, he landed and slid on the stone. The rock teetered. Nath flailed his good arm for balance and righted himself.

“Whew! I have this now … I think.”

He made the next leap. Three. Five. Ten more. Bounded from stone to stone like a black-scaled frog. The Floating City greeted him. Stark and vast. A mountain in the air. Nath felt small.
It’s much bigger up close.

Across one more chasm, a set of stairs was carved into the great rock, leading up into the city.
So this is a pathway, after all.
He judged the distance between him and the narrow steps on the other side. It was farther than it had looked from below, every bit of thirty feet. With a dragon latched onto his arm.

“This wouldn’t be hard if you just let go,” he said to the dragon. Its eyes were closed. “Enjoying the ride, are we?”

A chorus of roars echoed above in the towers of the city. The dragons were coming back from the chase. His mind raced, arguing with itself.

You have to do this, Dragon. You have to. But how? It’s too far. This blasted dragon is too heavy. Bayzog’s going to die if you don’t get moving. What choice do I have? I’ve done my best.

He slipped Dragon Claw out of his belt where he’d tucked it in earlier.

The dragon’s eye popped open.

CHAPTER 31

Faylan the satyr stood inside her tent, arms crossed over her chest with her bottom lip trembling. Her hooved feet had worn a track in the dirt floor where she’d paced for hours. Her brother, Finlin, was dead. The draykis, all of them, had been wiped out. And she’d have to answer to the High Priestess for it.

“But not just yet,” she whispered, resuming her pacing.

Everything had been going so well! She’d captured Nath Dragon, so she’d thought, and sent him straight to Selene. However, things had gone downward from there. The lock of hair from the man’s head had withered away, leaving doubt whether it was Nath Dragon at all. If it wasn’t, then certainly the report from Selene would not be good, but no bad news was forthcoming as of yet. However, she could feel trouble in her hooves.

“I hate dwarves,” she snarled. “And I’ll kill them all.”

It wouldn’t be easy. Now, with the draykis gone, the army she commanded had become loose in discipline. Many had deserted. Her authority had already been challenged before, but now she very thinly held command.

She did hold command of her army, though. Although she was a woman, she was still stronger and quicker than most men. A half orc had died horribly under her hooves, making him an example to others.

A tall man in partial-plate armor stepped inside her tent. His hair was braided, and he had a dark and swarthy look about him. He brought his heels together and nodded.

“I’ve rounded up a few deserters,” he said.

“Hang them,” she said. She grabbed her girdle off the planning table and buckled it on. “Before the sun sets.”

He nodded and his eyes slid back and forth to hers.

“What is it?” she said, aggravated.

“The troops are uneasy and keep asking about our orders. They fear the craftiness of the dwarves now that the draykis are gone.”

“The High Priestess wants the dwarves eliminated,” she said, toying with the gem amulet around her neck. “Tell them the death of the dwarves is their orders.”

He nodded, said, “Yes, Commander Faylan,” and disappeared through the tent flap.

Faylan rubbed the hair between her thorns. She’d lied about the High Priestess giving that order, but they didn’t know that. She fingered the amulet. So long as she had the object that helped control the draykis, she had some control. The soldiers didn’t know what it did, and for now that would be enough.

“Fear the dwarves?” she said. “There’s only a handful of them, and we’re a hundred strong. We’ll get them soon enough—
ack
!”

She jumped aside.

The body of the tall man in partial-plate armor burst through the tent flap and collapsed on the floor. He was dead.

She pulled out her knife and backed away from the entrance.

A scaly arm shoved the flap aside, and the hulking form of a draykis stepped inside. Its beady eyes glowed like emeralds in their sockets. Great leathery wings were on its back, unlike on other draykis. It glared at her and said, “The High Priestess demands a report.”

Looking up at the towering figure, Faylan swallowed hard. Her fingers wrapped around the amulet.

“Watch your tone with me, draykis.”

Its lips curled back over its fangs, and it stepped forward. Reached for her.

She summoned the amulet’s power.

It wrapped its huge clawed paw around her neck.

“Your amulet does not work on me,” it said, lifting her toes from the ground, “only on those under its enchantment. Where are they, goat feet?”

Faylan didn’t want to say. She’d rather die than admit the truth to the draykis. The High Priestess would kill her anyway. She croaked out unintelligible words.

“What’s that?” it said. “And bear in mind, your answer will bear your life or death, and the High Priestess demands the truth.” It released her.

She gasped for air and finally craned her neck upward.

I’ve no choice but to be truthful. I hate that!

“Dead,” she said, dejected. “Dwarves killed them … and my brother.”

“Dwarves?” Its knuckles cracked. “
Dwarves
killed all the draykis?”

“Buried them in a mountain,” she said. “It was my foolish brother’s fault.”

It swatted her across the face, knocking her into the table and sprawling her on the tent floor. Her entire horned head rang. She shook it.

“You are responsible for this,” it said. “Not your dead brother. Unfortunate for them.”

It came forward, flexing its layers of scaled muscles. Faylan had never feared death, or anything, for that matter, until now. At this moment, death felt inevitable. She raised her arms and prepared to beg for mercy, but how does one receive mercy from the dead?

“Get up,” it said. “We’ve work to do.”

“What?” she said, rising to her hooved feet, heart jumping.

“Selene is pleased with your prisoner,” the draykis said. “Come.” It disappeared through the tent flap.

It
was
him. It was Nath Dragon! I did it!
She pumped her fist, held her chin high, and strode outside.
Yes!
She stopped in her tracks. A great shadow covered her. Her body trembled.
Oh my!

A great bronze dragon leered down at her. Its great wings were black, and its dark tail swept the ground behind it. It was the one that had flown off with the cage that carried Nath Dragon in it. At least she thought it was. The winged draykis stood facing her, with its back to the dragon.

It could eat him in a single bite. Me as well.

Only the High Priestess had ever made her feel smaller.

“This dragon,” the draykis said, glancing back at the great creature, “the High Priestess has sent to assist you with things. Myself as well. And unlike the draykis, I don’t think the dwarves will be able to bury this dragon.”

“What kind of dragon is it?”

“The kind that crushes people.”

“Dwarven people?” she asked.

“Like eggs.”

The bronze dragon reared up its serpentine neck and let out an ear-splitting roar.

Ears covered, Faylan smiled.