Without warning, Lurker bent his rear legs and sprung into the air, his wings wide, cutting the air with graceful beats as he flew toward the far side of the valley and headed east.
Moving to the edge of the trail, conscious of the steep drop to the treetops below, she watched until the light of the moon no longer glinted off his scaly hide.
Dance with Death
Jonas Junior walked beneath the muted light of the full moon shining through a thin layer of clouds; attempting to come to terms with his feelings. He had tried so hard to fit in with the hunt—to be the man his father desperately wanted him to be, but the harder he tried, the more he made a mess of everything.
The moon emerged from behind the clouds, illuminating far-off rock faces and stretching the deep shadows cast by crags and tors lining both sides of Dragonfang Pass.
He had been a disappointment in his father’s eyes for quite some time. At first, it had gutted him, leaving him hollow—unworthy of bearing the Waverunner name. One day that guilt had changed. He wasn’t sure when, but some time last year he began to rise out from beneath his father’s shadow to assert himself as his own man.
At least that’s what he believed. The truth was a different matter. Whenever his father was near, Junior conformed to the Waverunner philosophy of dominance at any cost—never display weakness or compassion.
In his father’s estimation, that was how Waverunners conducted themselves. Lead by demanding respect. Gain obedience by invoking fear.
He ducked behind a boulder as a dark shape flew by on its way eastward—the silhouette of a small dragon—its green scales glinting in the moonlight.
He had seen that one a few times since rounding the Fang. It was like it stalked the hunt.
He sighed and slid his back down the boulder until he sat on the ground. His leather jerkin and hooded black cloak barely kept the cold at bay, but he didn’t care. A cold nose and trembling lips were better company than the members of the hunt.
As much as he enjoyed the thrill and excitement of finding and wrestling baby dragons, he always found it sad when they cried out in terror as blades cut them down and despoiled their carcasses. It was a grizzly affair. The slayers cared little if the babies were dead or not before cutting those damned horns free.
He bit his lips and shook his head. What good were the horns to anyone? Useless trophies that sat in cradle holders or were placed on mantle tops. Ever since his first hunt at the age of ten, he’d detested seeing the severed horns in someone’s house. Being a Waverunner, he couldn’t escape the sight. His father and uncle owned the largest collection in the village.
His eyes were closing when a dark form crossed the face of the moon. He sat up, instantly alert. A dragon! One too large to be a baby, glided on the wind, its head craned toward the ridge where he sat.
Green scales refracted the moonlight as the creature adjusted its flight, closing the distance between itself and the trailside ridge he sat on.
The dragon emitted a loud shriek, setting his nerves on end.
Stiff with fear, he found he couldn’t move. The dragon flew toward him, close enough to hear the wind in its leathery wings as it banked, screeching loudly and crunching into the mountainside not far up the path. The hunt camp!
Junior scrambled to his feet and rounded the boulder as shouts rose into the night. The members of the dragon hunt were under attack.
Junior’s heart almost stopped. A second dragon materialized from the valley below, its dark purple hide so close he could’ve hit it with a rock. Through the trees, a spout of flames escaped its mouth as it joined the green dragon on the trail.
Finding it harder to breathe than his short sprint merited, he slowed on the periphery of the campsite to reconnoitre the scene. In the surreal lighting of a scattered campfire, moonlight, and dragon fire, Junior located two banks of three tower shields—the rest of the hunt cowering behind the defensive lines.
Grog’s bulk was easily identifiable. Behind him and the two other firebreakers in his wall crouched Viper, Joram, Jaxon and Jonas senior—the green dragon stomping toward them on thick legs of muscle and sinew.
The second firebreaker wall was trying to coax the purple dragon to the ground—the dragon hovered before them, its nostrils emitting spurts of fire. The members of the hunt were taught at an early age never to engage a dragon in flight. Without the aid of a ballista, it was nearly impossible to take down an adult dragon.
It was the job of the slayers and the tracker to coax the dragon to the ground by taunting it, without ever fully exposing themselves. The firebreakers were their safety barrier—their thick shields constantly moving to position themselves between the slayers and the fire breathing beast.
The veteran tracker, Portus, stood up and shouted at the purple dragon. He darted out from behind the firebreak to cast a stone before darting around the back of the wall and repeating the action on the other side.
Portus did this to provoke the dragon into dousing him with flames. Dragons were prone to draw their heads back in preparation to spew their deadly swath of flames, leaving them vulnerable to anyone not within their fire’s path.
The purple dragon blasted the area Portus had just vacated, following his progress behind the shield wall. The firebreak spread the fiery wrath high and wide.
The slayers behind Grog’s shield wall stood straight and released arrows and a crossbow bolt into the purple dragon’s mouth. If the volley proved effective, the dragon would cease spitting fire and land.
The combined forces of two shield walls were utilized to take one dragon down. Jonas’ men battled two.
Afraid to draw the green dragon’s attention his way, Junior fretted. He couldn’t just leave his family and fellow huntsmen to deal with the two enraged monstrosities that were forcing them back toward the steep slope behind them. Once the shield wall’s movements became hampered by the hillside, the dragons would surely tear through them.
Grog caught his eye.
Junior held his hands up, shrugging his shoulders, silently asking the experienced veteran what he should do.
Grog shook his head at him and returned his concentration to keeping the wall together. “Left twice, right three times, back once.”
The men holding the shields, and those cowering behind, moved in unison—their course pulling the landed green dragon one way and then another, buying them time.
The purple dragon’s head coiled back and thrust forward, spewing a volley of flames.
Jonas roared, “Now!”
Grog’s shield wall stopped its manoeuvre while Jonas, Joram and Viper dispatched three missiles into the purple dragon’s gaping maw.
The purple dragon cut its fire short, recoiling under the painful barrage.
“Move!” Jonas ordered, ducking low.
“Four right, one back, two left, three right!” Grog gave the direction and the shield wall staggered away from the green dragon.
Sweat dampened Junior’s undergarments. He was well versed in the dance with death. He had taken part in them several times throughout the years. It was something one never got used to.
The wall’s job was to keep the dragon off-balance. Antagonizing it enough to rush at them at the right moment. That was the pivotal point when dealing with grounded dragons. If the slayers weren’t prepared, or the wall not fast enough to turn the dragon at the right moment, their formation would fall apart and the dragon would be in their midst.
Junior grimaced. The purple dragon refused to land. Opening its mouth to screech at the shield wall and the veteran tracker who goaded it, two arrows were clearly lodged in the roof of its mouth.
It flapped its mighty wings, the wind stirring ground debris around in swirls. Flames roiled at the back of its mouth. Its teeth came together and its head recoiled. Emitting a great roar, it threw its head forward, dousing the far shield wall with fire.
“Now!”
Grog’s wall stopped. Two more arrows and Viper’s crossbow bolt found their mark.
“Move!”
“Two right, one back, four left, one forward, three right!”
Grog’s wall danced with the green death.
The purple dragon turned its wrath away from the shield wall provoking it and concentrated on the exposed flank of Grog’s wall as the firewall went through its assigned steps.
Portus ran out between the shield walls, trying to divert its attention, but it ignored him.
Recoiling its head, the purple dragon screeched, the sound so terrible Junior’s teeth ached. It landed, shaking the ground, but instead of going after the veteran tracker it closed its mouth and pulled back.
“Grog, right face!” Jaxon’s high-pitched voice rose above the chaos. Grog and his shield brothers turned to absorb the torrent of flames.
Junior gaped. By turning to face the purple dragon, Jonas’ group were now exposed to the green dragon.
The green dragon charged. Just before it snapped at Grog’s left side, Grog spun his shield to intercept it, the action allowing the purple dragon’s flames to set his right side ablaze along with the firebreaker crouched beside him.
Wrestling to free his shield from the green dragon’s mouth, Grog tried to grab onto his shield mate as the middle firebreaker dropped his own shield and stumbled into the open, his leather armour fully ablaze.
Screaming, twisting and turning, the firebreaker dropped to his knees and fell on his face—the disgusting smell of burnt flesh filled the glade.
Junior hoped the man was dead before the purple dragon snatched his flaming body in its mouth and lifted him into the air.
The man cried out in agony, his bones snapping like dry twigs. The purple dragon shook its head back and forth until pieces of the man scattered about the clearing.
Jonas roared, leading Joram around the far side of the shield wall to engage the green dragon—all semblance of order gone from Grog’s wall.
The dragon’s emerald eyes caught Jonas’ movement and craned its head to intervene, the action throwing Grog’s bulk to the ground, ripping the shield from him.
Junior withdrew his sword and forced his incapacitating fear aside. His father and uncle were about to suffer the same fate as the firebreaker. He had to do something.
Dashing across the clearing, he leaped over Grog rolling on the ground, and vaulted off the remaining firebreaker’s hunched back. Swinging his sword arm out wide, he aimed its point at the dragon’s eye and drove it home. The breath left him as his body smashed against the side of the dragon’s head. Falling away, he lost his grip on his sword.
The green dragon reared high on its back legs, flailing its wings out wide. Its head thrashed back and forth, screeching in anguish and billowing flames soared into the night sky.
Jonas, Joram, Viper and Jaxon hacked at the dragon’s exposed underside with wild abandon, spilling the creature’s entrails to the ground.
The purple dragon screeched, running at Joram and his men but the second shield wall charged forward, the slayers expertly sliding their blades up and under its protective scales.
The purple dragon turned on them, spewing a tremendous blast of dragon fire. The flames hit two of the slayers and Portus head-on, killing them instantly.
Viper’s scimitar slashed at its stomach, followed closely by Joram and Jonas’ lethal axe swings. The purple dragon fell to its chin, dead.
Dazed, Junior tried to get up, but he slipped in the gore at his feet. Landing on his side, his gaze caught the agonized expression of Grog—the right side of the man’s face burnt beyond recognition.
Those Left Behind
Frightening sounds echoed throughout the valley. Angry roars accompanied by thunderous screeches of agony. A great battle was being fought somewhere up the trail from where Reecah and Raver huddled behind the pine.
She had just settled between the tree and the cliff to pass the night away when the terrible noises started up. Trembling, she hoped that whatever was fighting wouldn’t turn its attention her way. She debated running as fast as she could in the other direction, but she wasn’t familiar with this part of the mountains. It would be foolish to navigate it in the dark.
Raver made soft noises beneath her cloak, his body shivering in her lap. She pulled her arms from the cloak’s sleeves to comfort her frightened friend and stroke his head as the commotion echoed down the pass.
A terrifying shriek made her hunker down further—followed by an eerie silence—the complete lack of noise more frightening than the uproar before it. She feared whatever had been fighting was now coming after her. If the attacker had been a dragon, like she believed, she was sure it had found the dragon hunt. Their trail would lead the creature straight back to her.
She sat shaking against the wall, her eyes darting everywhere at once, barely blinking. The remainder of the sleepless night dragged on. As the valley lightened with the new dawn, Reecah wasn’t sure what to do. Afraid to venture further into the pass, she was equally reluctant to return home—she might never get a chance to speak with a dragon again. She sighed. After the way her conversation had ended with Lurker last night, the opportunity may have already gone.
Her stomach growled. Her eyes were dry and her head ached from the lack of sleep. The emotional highs and the devastating lows she had experienced over the last couple of days had mentally exhausted her.
Checking her rucksack, her lack of food made the decision for her. She was ill-equipped to be frolicking deeper into the heart of dragon territory.
Pulling her cloak away from her chest she looked at Raver. “What was I thinking, feather brain? Who am I fooling? It’s none of my business what the hunt does.”
Raver blinked at her.
“It’s time we headed home.”
She undid the thongs lashing her cloak together and lifted Raver free. The raven took to wing and disappeared around the pine.
She gathered her waterskin and shrugged into her pack, ready to step out from behind the tree but a voice up the trail stopped her.
“There it is again! Look, the raven!” The high-pitched voice could belong to none other than Jaxon Waverunner.
Reecah took a chance and leaned out. Sure enough, Jonas’ youngest son marched down the trail toward her location with several others close behind. To a man, they appeared bedraggled.
She slunk behind the tree, fearing the boughs weren’t thick enough to hide her. Pulling her cloak tight, she made herself as small as possible and peeked through an opening in her hood.
As Jaxon strolled in front of her, she resisted the urge to rush out and push him over the edge. Had his friends not been with him, she might have.
Including the halfwit, Reecah counted eight men—the last four struggling to carry a makeshift litter.
Joram and Jonas strutted by, their sour faces tracking Raver’s flight. Jonas stopped right in front of the tree, searching the sky and the surrounding mountainside.
Not daring to breathe, Reecah fought to keep her body from trembling. Because she had foolishly told Junior, the hunt would know that she was the one responsible for their hardships. If they found her, she would be the one sent flying over the edge.
Jonas seemed to look right at her, but he turned away and pointed at what she could only imagine was Raver in the distance. “Jaxon’s right. That raven’s following us. Five coppers to whoever brings it down. Perchance I’ll even put a good word in for you with Janice or Jennah, eh?”
The thought of the boorish man offering his daughters as a reward to someone just because they killed a bird repulsed her. What kind of father did that?
The litter bearers caught up and stopped to wait on Jonas and Joram, unable to pass them on the narrow trail. The strain of their burden clearly evident in the bulging veins on their red faces, but no one dared to complain.
The litter consisted of four long, ivory horns lashed together—pointed on the front end, and thick and encrusted with blood and gore on the back end; the horns much too long for the body on the litter.
Reec
ah frowned. Where had they acquired such ghastly poles? She tried to see who lay under the blanket but couldn’t see his face. She assumed it was Junior until she looked farther down the trail and saw him talking with the greasy-haired man who reminded her of a weasel.
Jonas regarded the sweating men for a moment and grunted. “Let’s be on then, we’ve rested long enough. The sooner we get Grog off the mountain, the sooner we can form a new party and get back.”
The litter bearers rolled their eyes as Joram and Jonas started up the trail. Without a word, they stretched their necks and stomped after the leaders.
Coming up behind the litter, Junior’s eyes were on the crossbow the greasy-haired man held. “Viper, you think you can outshoot a bow?”
“Pfft, please. This thing is more accurate and powerful than any bow I’ve ever seen.”
“What about the high king’s longbows?”
Viper narrowed his eyes. “Don’t rightly know. They certainly pack a wallop. Fine if you’re stationary, I guess, but if you’re chasing men through the bush, I would think they’d be unwieldy.”
They stopped in front of the pine tree. Junior pointed east up the valley. “Think you can hit that bird?”
Reecah sucked in her breath.
“Don’t be daft. He’s halfway to the other side.” Viper cast Junior a disgusted glare and followed the litter west.
“You go ahead. I’ll stay back and make sure the bird doesn’t come back,” Junior called after the man but received no response.
The eldest Waverunner boy stared out over the valley, long after the noise of the rest of the hunt receded past the next ridge. His voice sent shivers down her spine.
“You can come out now.”
Reecah almost choked. She cast a furtive glance up and down the trail. No one else was visible.
Junior peered through the boughs. “Come on, Draakvriend, I know you’re back there. Heck, I can smell you.”
Putting aside her misgivings, she stood with the help of her quarterstaff. She unsheathed her sword and slipped out from behind the pine tree. “I’m not afraid to use this.”
Reecah's Flight Page 13
