Dragon King Charlie

by Scott Baron

  Charlie watched Owen from the corner of his eye as he battled a trio attempting to pin him to a stone column.

  They’re going to flank him, he realized.

  Rather than press on, Charlie quickly dropped into a roll to the side, which seemed to be a tactically unsound move so far as his adversaries could tell. But his aim was not them, and he rolled to within arm’s reach of the men hectoring his young companion.

  Charlie’s blade flashed out, low and fast. Two of Owen’s attackers cried out as their Achilles’ tendons were severed by his blow, dropping them to their knees despite their best intentions to remain upright.

  Owen seized the opportunity to part one of the guards from his head, the other likewise downed by a slice to the neck.

  Four down.

  The Dragon King snatched up one of the fallen men’s blades and swung it into action, windmilling his arms in a flurry of attacks. Another guard fell, but there were five remaining, and they’d fallen into a more defensive stance.

  “Get help!” the leader of the group ordered the man in the rear of the formation.

  He started to run, and with the wall of men between them, there was no way Charlie or Owen could reach him.

  “Fuck it,” Charlie growled. “Azokta!”

  The Wampeh Ghalian killing word flowed from deep within his body, calling upon his own internal magic, drawing energy from his bond to his mighty dragon friend. It wasn’t the most powerful spell he’d ever cast, but seeing as he had no konus and no slaap, it would have to do.

  The fleeing man dropped to the ground, stone dead, his armor hitting the hard ground with a dull clank. The other men’s faces paled.

  “The king is a wizard,” one gasped.

  “That’s right, bitches. And he’s had enough of this bullshit,” Charlie said, casting a series of small, distracting spells to throw the men off guard.

  He would have preferred to kill them from a distance, or at least immobilize them enough to safely finish the fight, but he still didn’t know exactly how much internal power he possessed, and if it really was tied to Ara, with her missing, he just couldn’t risk it. And after Bawb’s display in the forest, suffice to say, he had learned to play it safe when it came to the ways of magic.

  The remaining guards fought back as best they could, but their spirit had been broken. The visceral terror of realizing they were very much prey and not equal combatants took the fire from their fight. They did not surrender, however, and Charlie had to grudgingly respect them for it, though it did not stop him from slaying every last one of them.

  “Check them. Make sure they’re dead,” he commanded Owen.

  The young man stared at him, jaw hanging open.

  “Yes, Owen. I used magic. You can freak out about it later, okay? We have work to do.”

  Owen stopped gawking, his brain kicking back into gear. “That. Was. Amazing! Can you teach me that?”

  Charlie couldn’t help but pause.

  “You’re not afraid?”

  “No. You’re my king. Why, should I be?”

  “Well, no. But most people freak out a bit, is all.”

  A woman’s muffled voice was shouting, and close.

  “Leila!”

  Charlie ran the length of the room to the thick door from which he’d heard the cries. He unbolted the heavy iron rod and swung the heavy wood open.

  Leila sat tied to a chair, a sweat-soaked burlap sack over her head. Charlie whipped it off, his queen squinting uncomfortably in the glare of the torchlight.

  “Charlie?”

  “Yeah, babe. I’ve got you,” he said, wrapping his arms around her, his hands deftly slicing through the ropes binding her as he held her tight.

  “Is she okay?”

  “Yeah, Owen. We’re good. Clear the stairwell, I’m going to help her up.”

  “I can walk, Charlie,” she said stubbornly, immediately stumbling on weak legs.

  “Leila, they’ve been mistreating you for days. Accept the help, please.”

  She paused a moment, noting both the lack of strength in her limbs and the concern in his eyes. “Okay,” she relented.

  Charlie helped her across the dungeon, careful to avoid the slippery red mess he’d made.

  “All this fuss for me?” she said, eyeing the carnage.

  “Anything for my queen,” he softly replied.

  They had just made it to the top of the stairs and were heading down the hallway toward the hidden door Charlie had left ajar when fifteen of King Horgund’s men rounded the corner, blocking their exit.

  “Surrender or die!” their captain called out.

  “What do we do, Sire? Can you use your magic on them?”

  “You showed him your spells?” Leila asked, shocked.

  “Just one. And it was an emergency.”

  “This seems like an emergency, too.”

  “Yeah, but Ara is missing, and I don’t know how much of my juju is tied to her,” he said. Despite the odds, a small grin began to spread on his lips.

  “What?”

  He leaned over and whispered into Leila’s ear. She smiled as well, then took a deep breath.

  “Baloooooo!” she called out at the top of her lungs.

  “What’s she on about?” the captain asked.

  “Oh, you’ll see,” Charlie replied, a knowing grin spreading on his lips.

  He had been a good boy, patiently waiting out in the woods like Charlie asked him to. But when he heard his Mama’s voice, calling him with urgency, Baloo took off from his hiding spot in a flash––a gray blur speeding from the trees right into what appeared to be a solid stone wall.

  But his nose told him it wasn’t. It was a door. And the door was open.

  The enormous canine leapt onto the men, his jaws ripping them to shreds in a cathartic display of aggression and fury. They had taken Leila. Hurt her. Kept her from him. If Charlie had killed with anger and efficiency, Baloo’s revenge was an outright slaughter.

  The guards stumbled back, unable to draw weapons as they had foolishly come charging into the corridor in tight formation. But Baloo had no such problem. No swords to draw, merely tearing teeth, bringing all of them a swift demise. In a matter of minutes, all of the men lay dead or dying.

  “Oh, come here, baby!” Leila called as her boy trotted over to her, covered in blood and gore, but none of it his own.

  Leila ignored the sticky mess and hugged him tightly around his massive neck. Baloo’s eyes met Charlie’s, content and whole. They were finally a family again.

  “You need to get out of here,” Charlie said. “Bawb and Hunze will meet us in the woods. Baloo knows the way. And if you get separated, find Clay. He will shelter you.”

  “No, Charlie. I want to stay and fight.”

  He hugged her tight, then pushed her away. “You’re weak, and I can’t be effective in battle if I’m worried about you as I fight. Please, go with Baloo. You’ll regain your strength, and you’ll have your revenge. But not tonight. Please.”

  She hesitated, eyes welling up with emotion. “Fine. I’ll go,” she said, turning to leave. “And Charlie?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t die.”

  He smiled, his heart shining through his eyes. “Love you too.”

  As soon as his queen was out of sight he turned to the young man fighting by his side. “Owen, the Captain has rallied the men to fight by now. Are you ready to retake the castle?”

  “Aye, Sire. And with your magic, I know we’ll win the day. There’s no way King Horgund’s wizard will dare oppose us.”

  Charlie hesitated. “Owen, have you even seen this wizard?”

  “Well, no. But I’ve heard the others talk about him.”

  “And have any of them actually seen him?”

  “Uh, not that I know of, actually.”

  They’d have used their magic by now if they actually had it, Charlie realized with pleasure. The whole thing was a ruse.

  “All right, then. Gird your loins, sonny
boy, it’s clobberin’ time.”

  “Sire?”

  “Nevermind. Come on. Let’s retake what’s ours.”

  Chapter Fifty-Four

  The sounds of fighting grew louder as Charlie and Owen ran. Being men of action, they ran toward the conflict rather than away from it. There was a full-scale uprising underway, and the commotion in the hallways as they raced to join Captain Sheeran was merely overflow from the main battle in the courtyard.

  Soldiers in King Horgund’s colors were fighting one another, they noted. As they drew near, Charlie saw their faces and realized he recognized many of them. Men he had helped train. Men from his own kingdom and loyal to Charlie, absorbed into Horgund’s ranks, now turning against the invaders.

  The odds were still against them, however. A great many of their comrades had fled and were in hiding, though they’d gladly join the fray once word reached them.

  But this was a few thousand years before wireless comms, and by the time those reinforcements heard of the battle, it would already be over.

  “I’ve got to get to my weapons,” Charlie grunted, slashing down a pair of Horgund’s men.

  “Seem to be doing just fine with those,” Owen joked as he landed a killing blow on his own opponent.

  “You don’t understand, Owen. They’re magic weapons.”

  A light went on in the young soldier’s head. “Oh. Well, then. Point the way, Sire.”

  They pushed through the thickening combat, trying to make it closer to the wing of the castle that housed Charlie’s former chambers. They would never keep their hidden cache of weapons there, of course. That would be the first place any thief or invader would look for valuables. But one of their two caches was tucked away in that part of the castle, hidden in plain sight on the lowest level behind months upon months of shimmer spells.

  “This way,” Charlie said, leading them down a smaller corridor to one of the servants’ common areas.

  The shortcut was abruptly blocked by the cacophonous roar of heavy battle spilling into the room. From the hallway Charlie had intended to take, no less. Behind them, sounds of combat were also closing in.

  “Shit. Looks like we have to make a bit of a stand, Owen. You ready?”

  The young guard just smiled as if he were having the time of his life. If they made it through this ordeal, he was going to set him up with Bawb for some one-on-one training. He certainly seemed to be of the right mindset for it.

  The combat was thick, and both sides seemed to be evenly matched, more or less.

  We can take them. We just need to position that group to block their––

  A particularly violent fighter caught the king’s attention out of the corner of his eye. A strong fighter with long, dark hair. And aggressive. A woman, he realized as he caught a better glimpse of her shape as she mowed through his men. There was no denying it, the berserker of a woman with her dark hair falling out of her quickly-pulled ponytail was a formidable combatant.

  She was taking his men out with brutal efficiency, he was distressed to see, and there was something strangely familiar in her movements. He just couldn’t place from where.

  “Look out, Sire,” Owen said, engaging a trio of men charging his king. One of them was swinging a spiked club, which narrowly missed Charlie’s head.

  “Good looking out,” Charlie said with a grin, pivoting and slicing the man’s club arm from his body, then running him through.

  Owen used the techniques Charlie had taught him, bending and twisting to gain access to the less-protected joints in his more heavily-armored opponents’ equipment. The first went down in a heap as the artery in his upper thigh was sliced open. Charlie knew it would only take seconds before he blacked out from blood loss.

  That left the third man. Owen was still bent low and vulnerable, so Charlie rushed past him to engage. The exchange of sword blows was fierce. The man obviously knew how to fight and was giving the king far more of a challenge than any of the others he’d faced so far.

  But Charlie was better and he knew it. With a feint to the left and a step to the right, he passed the man’s sword and buried his dagger in his chest, the reinforced tip making its way through the layer of metal and driving straight into his heart.

  “Sire! Look out!”

  Charlie spun as Owen fell into him, blood gushing from his side where the berserker bitch had planted her sword.

  “No!” he shouted, swinging his own sword high, blocking her follow up blow as he lowered the youth to the ground.

  “I’ll be fine. Fight,” he said, blood bubbling from his lips.

  Given the intensity of the woman’s attack, he had no choice but to fight. He also knew Owen would not live to see the end of the battle.

  “Fucking bitch! I’m going to end you!” he roared, swinging his sword and dagger in a tandem assault, wailing on the strange woman.

  It was chaos, the battle raging all around them, but Charlie was focused on this one opponent with a deadly anger. Again he pounced, but she was ready, her blades meshing with his in a test of strength and resolve. She struggled against him, the two drawn close, face-to-face. Her hair shifted aside and Charlie got a clear look at her face.

  And his world went sideways.

  “Rika?” he managed to say in utter shock.

  She paused, the briefest flash of what seemed to almost be recognition. Familiarity. Then it was gone, replaced by pure aggression, along with a solid kick to the chest.

  Charlie reeled, falling over, his sword parrying defensively, his tactics suddenly shifting one hundred eighty degrees from offense to defense. It was Rika. His Rika. His mission’s second-in-command, and pilot of their massive mech. But that was impossible. It simply couldn’t be.

  She’d been lobotomized, and a few thousand years in the future in a galaxy far away, sold off as a common house slave. He’d seen it with his own eyes, the only other survivor of his ship’s crash in that distant part of the universe.

  But it was her. He knew it without a doubt.

  “Rika, what the hell are you doing?”

  “How do you know my name?” she growled, stabbing fiercely at his torso.

  Charlie deflected the blow, but now found himself having to not only defend himself, but also protect his attacker from his own men trying to help their king.

  “No, this one is mine!” he shouted, knocking one of his guards back as he tried to engage alongside him.

  “As you wish, Sire,” the man said, a confused look on his face as he turned to find another opponent in the melee.

  Charlie had to find out what was going on, but the middle of a life and death battle was not the ideal place for it. He glanced at the expired youth, bled out on the floor. Owen had died saving him. And now he was saving his killer.

  One way or another he knew he had to get her out of there. Somewhere safe. Somewhere he could find out what the hell was going on. Charlie shoved Rika and dashed into an adjacent room.

  No one here. Good.

  His friend-turned-assailant rushed after him.

  Charlie stood in the middle of the room, his hand raised, a determined focus in his eyes.

  I know I have the power, he told himself. He just hoped he was right.

  “Dispanus,” he silently cast, the major stun spell flowing from within.

  He did have the power after all. And while he didn’t know how much remained, at least it was enough for this.

  Rika took the full force of the spell, knocked violently unconscious, dropping to the floor in a heap. Charlie was just glad she didn’t accidentally land atop one of her blades. The spell would have her out for some time, but this was something strange and he didn’t intend to take any chances.

  He quickly bound her hands. Tight. Then he hauled his apparently not dead friend over his shoulder and made for the door at the far end of the room, heading out to the courtyard where the rest of King Horgund’s soldiers were engaged with Captain Sheeran and his loyal men.

  Chapter Fifty-Five


  Charlie fought one handed, his unconscious friend slung over one shoulder as he slayed another half dozen men on the way to the courtyard. The path to his hidden weaponry was sadly blocked from reach, well behind a rather sizable group of King Horgund’s men. He only hoped Bawb had better luck than he did.

  Captain Sheeran broke off from the fighting to join his king when he saw him approaching. He was more than a little surprised to see him carrying a woman over his shoulder.

  “Horgund’s bitch’s lady-in-waiting?” Sheeran exclaimed when he saw Charlie’s load. “What is she doing here?”

  “We came upon her in the fighting. Over in the west wing. She was going all berserker in there.”

  “But that makes no sense. I’ve seen her around the castle. She’s the mistress’s aide. She never leaves her side, especially not with the child coming.”

  “But she did, obviously.”

  Sheeran look at her sleeping face. “Almost pretty. When she’s not actively trying to kill you, that is. But you know what this means, Sire. The child has been born. With that distraction removed, Horgund will assemble his men and provide the leadership they require to form a more cohesive attack. We need to regroup immediately before they fall upon us.”

  “Agreed. Fall back to the far end of the courtyard. Our forces are heavier there. It should be a better place to prepare. Plus, we’ll have stone at our backs and an escape through the gate if things go wrong.”

  “Aye, Sire.” Sheeran shouted orders to the men, who quickly started shifting their position, as ordered. He looked around the combatants, scanning their faces. “Where’s Owen, Sire? I don’t see him.”

  Charlie was silent a long moment, and Sheeran knew what had befallen the lad before he uttered a word.

  “He died well, Captain. He was brave and true. He saved my life at the cost of his own.”

  Sheeran nodded, his jaw flexing as his emotions welled up. “How? Did you slay his killer?”

  Charlie looked away. This was not going to be easy.

  “No, though if it were anyone else they’d have found an unmerciful fate at the end of my sword.”