I flexed my Dragon arms. I tried to kick. But I could only move my toes.
The Ettins chuckled.
“Look what we have here, Big Brother,” the first Ettin said. “We got us a Dragon Man. Let’s take him, throw him in a pot, and turn him to stew like the others.”
CHAPTER 12
The ground shook. Bayzog shuddered. Pictures of angry Ettins danced in his head. He had to run. Hide. Do something. He muttered a protection spell. A mystic surge coursed through his blood. Calmness and security followed.
He sighed.
“That’s better.”
Thoom.
The footsteps were distant and he didn’t have to be an Elven ranger to know that. But how close was too close?
Something else caught his ears and he hunkered down in his saddle, eyes searching. The rustling foliage. Darting. Jumping. It was fast and coming right at him. He dove to the ground and covered his head. A herd of gazelle burst across the path, leapt over him and disappeared. His spooked horse trotted out of sight.
“Oh great,” he said, rising and dusting off his robes. “Shum would laugh, maybe, if he saw that. Every Elf in Nalzambor would. Shameful.”
He ambled down the path―tripping over his robes before pulling them up―and went after the horse. The beast was well trained and wouldn’t run far unless it was really spooked. He figured on the worst-case scenario for Shum. Probably being eaten by an Ettin by now. He forged ahead, pushing branch after branch from his face. He caught his robes on one, jerked it free and tore it.
“Drat it all,” he said, under his breath. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.
Thoom.
His heart skipped and beat faster.
“Thank goodness for protection spells. Otherwise I’d be on the other side of the creek by now.”
He moved on.
Thoom.
He stopped.
Breathe, Bayzog. Breathe.
The points on his ears bent a little. Something else was running towards him.
He grabbed a stick and waited. I’m not getting my robes dirty this time.
A woman’s voice cried out.
“Aiiyee!”
He ran towards the sound of her voice.
She screamed again.
He jumped over a log, smashed through the branches, and ran right into her. They both tumbled to the ground. The woman was distraught and her clothes were in tatters. She had to be one of the villagers.
“Woman,” he said, “it’s alright. You are safe now.”
Her eyes were wide, darting and glossy. Her entire body trembled. Bayzog brushed her dark hair from her scraped-up face. She just blinked at him like he wasn’t there.
“Did the Ettins have you?”
She nodded.
Thoom!
She grabbed his robes and said, “Please! Please! Take me home! Get me away from here!”
“Easy,” he said. “We’ll get you home—”
Thoom!
She tore away from him and dashed into the woods.
“Wait!” he said, jumping after her.
“Aiiyee!” she said.
Bayzog ran after her, darted behind the trees and stopped. Someone had a hold of the woman and she beat and clawed at his chest. It was Shum. The big Elf grabbed her by the back of the neck and squeezed. The woman collapsed in his arms.
“Is she alright?” Bayzog said.
“She’ll be fine.”
“What happened? Is she hurt?”
Shum showed a little teeth and said, “No, just a little Roving Ranger trick.”
Thoom!
“That thing’s getting closer,” Bayzog said. “Is it an Ettin?”
“I suppose. And looking for her no doubt. Come on.”
They weaved in and out of the trees. Shum carried the woman in his arms like a baby. Seconds later they found both horses.
“Ah, good,” Bayzog said, “I thought he was lost.”
“No worries,” Shum said, “can you ride with her?”
“Me? Why not you?”
“I’m not going back,” Shum said, “you are.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What I always do,” Shum said, “find the missing.”
Bayzog swung himself up on the horse. Shum handed up the woman and draped her over the saddle. Then, Shum whispered in the horse’s ear.
“Can you speak Horse?”
Shum nodded.
“What did you tell it?”
“To ride you right back to where we came from,” Shum said, guiding the horse away.
Thoom!
The trees shook and birds scattered. Several critters dashed under the horses.
Bayzog was saying, “I’ll come back with the others—”
When Shum whacked the horse on the rear and the horse leapt forward.
Bayzog surged ahead, glancing back over his shoulder.
Shum leapt on his horse and disappeared.
A tree crashed down right behind Shum, followed by a loud yell.
“WHERE ARE YOU?”
An Ettin emerged. It stood as tall as the trees. Its dark eyes found Bayzog.
“Oh no!” he said, snapping the reins.
Thoom! Thoom! Thoom! Thoom!
The Ettin ran right after him.
***
Shum realized his error. He had assumed the Ettin would come for him, not Bayzog. That had been his plan, but plans change. He turned his horse and galloped after the Ettin.
Ahead, two big heads bobbed up and down. Massive arms swung at its sides like hammers. The Ettin’s Giant strides covered the ground as fast as a horse. He dug his heels into his steed.
“Yah!”
The horse thundered ahead. Shum’s horse wasn’t just any horse, but a special one bred by the Range Rovers. Big and Sleek. The Rover Stallions were the rarest horse breed in the land. It was one of the fastest creatures on four hooves. In seconds, the chestnut mare was on the heels of the Ettin, but Shum rode right by with the wind whistling in his long pointed ears.
Ahead, Bayzog was doing little to distance himself from the Ettin, despite his mare’s efforts.
Shum ran out in front of the Ettin and angled the other way. The Ettin didn’t follow. It kept after Bayzog. It wanted the woman. Time for plan two.
Shum’s long fingers wrapped around the shaft of a short spear that was hooked to the saddle. Its tip was intricate. Elven crafted. Only two feet long. He charged after the Ettin. Its big steps would close in on Bayzog at any moment. Shum caught the worried look in Bayzog’s eyes.
He pressed the spear to his lips and spoke in Ancient Elven.
The spear extended. Snap. Three feet. Snap. Four feet. Snap. Six feet. The spearhead grew, widened, and brightened. Shum hopped up in the saddle and stood tall. He readied his spear over his head. He closed in. Five horse lengths. Three horse lengths. He dove at the Ettin.
***
Ettins aren’t as slow and stupid as they look!
Bayzog’s protective spell did little to calm the fear in his belly now. Instead, he was riding for his life. A monstrosity of hair, heads and yellow eyes followed behind him. Feet almost as big as his horse ready to crush him. I’ll never leave home again.
Shum appeared. Riding hard. Eyes narrowed. Right on the Giant’s heels.
Yes! Follow him, Ettin!
He glanced forward. The open plains to freedom waited. He glanced back over his shoulder.
No!
The Ettin was still coming. Closer. One world-shaking foot after the other. He tried to think of a spell. Anything. I can’t ride and cast.
The Ettin’s long arms stretched towards him and touched the horse’s tail.
“Shum!” he yelled. Where did he go?
The Ettin roared and said, “I HAVE YOU NOW!”
Bayzog cracked the reins.
“No!”
Shum reappeared. Standing on the saddle. A spear as tall as a Man glimmering in his hands. He was heading right for the Ettin. One Ettin hea
d turned his way. The Ettin stopped, whirled, and braced itself for impact. Shum leapt off his horse with his spear high over his head.
The Ettin swung both fists at the same time. They came together like a clap of thunder. The Elf and Ettin tumbled to the ground. Shum disappeared under its bulk.
“No!” Bayzog yelled, pulling on the reins. The horse kept galloping. He pulled harder but the horse kept going. The Ettin’s form disappeared behind the dale and out of sight.
“What do I do?”
CHAPTER 13
Pain. I was familiar with it. I’d been in pain before. But not like this. The first Ettin was squeezing me to death with both hands.
I tried to yell, but I couldn’t get enough air. It came out like a frog’s croak. “Brenwar …”
All four Ettin heads laughed.
“Dragon Man hard to squish,” the first Ettin’s one head said. Then its other head said, “I likes a challenge.”
“Let’s just eat him,” the second Ettin’s one head said. His other head said, “My belly groans.” Both of its heads smacked their lips.
The first Ettin’s mouths both watered, dripping spit all over me. “Wonder if he tastes like fish, with those scales.”
Eaten! I can’t let this happen.
I flexed my Dragon arms as hard as I could, pushing out with my elbows.
My Dragon arms pushed back the first Ettin’s grip on me just enough that I could gulp in some air.
I yelled, “Brenwar!”
The second Ettin came closer. Its one head said, “He’s loud.” Its other head said, “I don’t like that!”
“SILENCE!” all four Ettin heads yelled.
My ears were ringing. It made me dizzy, they yelled so loud.
“You!” Brenwar yelled from somewhere.
I gazed all around. The Ettins did as well.
“What do you want?” the second Ettin said.
I spotted Brenwar. A vial of bright liquid in his hands. He tipped it up and drank it down. Eyed the Ettin and yelled back up.
“I bet your rotten teeth can’t gnaw through dwarven hide,” Brenwar said. “I bet my beard you can’t even catch me.” He teetered back and forth on his feet. “Stupid Giants!”
I had no idea which potion Brenwar drank. Perhaps it made him fast, like me. Well, maybe not that fast. Or hard as stone. Invisible, maybe.
But nothing happened.
The second Ettin reached for Brenwar.
“Move, you stubborn Dwarf!” I yelled.
My Dragon arms weren’t even getting tired. I could breathe just fine now. I wriggled, but I still couldn’t get out of the first Ettin’s hands. If I stopped pushing out with my elbows, I would suffocate. I was stuck.
Brenwar just stood there. Shaking his first. Screaming at the Giant. He was going to die. I was going to die. I could feel it.
The second Ettin reached down and snatched Brenwar up from the ground.
“TIME TO SQUISH DWARF!” its one head said. It started to squeeze, and both of its heads groaned, “HURK!”
I almost turned my head. I yelled instead. “Put him down!”
The first Ettin, the one who held me, the one whose spit was all over me, was laughing now with both heads. Low. Loud. Evil. “Hum, hum, hum, hum, HUM!”
Brenwar didn’t even flinch. Instead, his beard got bigger. So did his head.
“WHAT!” both the second Ettin’s heads said together.
Brenwar was laughing. Growing. Six Feet. Ten feet tall.
The second Ettin dropped him on the ground.
Brenwar kept growing. Fifteen feet. Twenty. He was the biggest Dwarf in Nalzambor. A bearded mountain.
The second Ettin stepped back, gaping.
Brenwar closed in on him. Socked him in the gut with a fist as big as a boulder.
WHOP!
The Ettin buckled over. A chorus of cheers went up from villagers and soldiers.
Brenwar grabbed the second Ettin by the shaggy hair on its two heads and clonked them together. The Ettin staggered back. Fell.
“Make him stop!” the first head of the Ettin holding me said. Its other head said, “Stop him, or I’ll crush you like a bug!”
“Crush me,” I said, “and you’ll make him mad. And you don’t want to see him mad.”
All four eyes blinked. Drifting between me, Brenwar and its brother.
“Maybe you should help your brother,” I suggested.
“Quiet, Dragon Man!” it said with both mouths, narrowing all four eyes at me. It was getting mad. Thinking.
I struggled.
Its grip was like iron bars around me.
Brenwar and the Ettin thrashed over the ground. Rolling. Punching. Cursing at each other. I didn’t know how long the potion would last, but I didn’t think it would last long.
POW!
Brenwar took a solid shot in the jaw. Shrugged it off. Punched into the Ettin’s ribs. Quick. Powerful blows. One right after the other.
BAP! BAP! BAP! BAP! BAP!
“Stop it, Dwarf!” the first Ettin’s one head cried. His other head said, “Or I’ll kill your friend.”
Brenwar paused. Looked over. Giant drops of sweat beaded on his head. Broad chest heaving.
“NO!” he said. Then he socked the Ettin again.
“What!” I said.
The angry first Ettin squeezed harder.
My Dragon arms gave in. My eyes bulged out of my head.
Zzzzzap!
The hairs stood up on both of the first Ettins heads. Its grip fell open. I dropped to the ground. Sasha was there. Delicate hands glowing with flecks of energy.
Withdrawing Fang, I croaked in my frog voice, “Thanks, Sasha, but you better get out of here.”
I blushed at how funny I sounded, and gulped in some air. Whew!
The first Ettin roared, “RRRRRAAAAHHHH!” It looked down and boomed, “WHO DARES!”
“Fast!” I said.
Sasha ran.
“You better help me,” I said to Fang.
I banged the blade on the ground. Nothing!
“Drat it, Fang! I need you!”
The blade shimmered with blue light. Almost mocking me. I shook my red mane. I was getting frustrated. But I had a bigger problem to deal with. The first Ettin.
Both its fists came down.
I jumped out of the way.
“Fine then,” I said to Fang. “I’ll do it the hard way!”
I darted between the Ettin’s legs. Chopped halfway through the back of its foot with Fang and my Dragon arms.
It howled. Hopped after me. Fingers stretching for my neck.
But I was fast. Angry. Stronger now than ever. My blood was up too. And I could breathe. I’d had enough of this. I pocked its hand. It howled again. I ducked under a fist. Hopped back from a kicking toe. Stabbed Fang into its other big toe.
“Stop it!” “Stop it!” both of its heads yelled. It was hopping up and down on the foot with the bleeding big toe.
I did no such thing. I struck out at its legs. Hit one. Then the other. I wanted to punish it.
It wailed. It begged. Finally it fell.
“No more, Dragon Man!” “Stop now!” It waved its bleeding hand in my face.
I cut off a finger.
It howled and rolled.
“Dragon!” Brenwar yelled. He towered over me. Hands on hips. “Get ahold of yourself.”
“Would it show mercy to me?” I said, raising the sword over my head. “To the people it’s hurt? Killed?”
“No,” Brenwar said, “but it’s Evil. You’re good.” He nodded to the Ettin that was out cold behind him. “Besides, I think they’ll tell us what we want to know, now.”
I took a deep breath. I was shaking.
The Ettin was bleeding. Badly.
I didn’t feel bad. I felt frustrated.
“This is your fault, Fang.” I slammed him in the sheath. “Well, start the interrogation then, Giant Beard!”
“Don’t you dare call me a Giant ever again!” Brenwar
poked me in the chest with his oversized finger. “And settle yourself down, Dragon.”
I walked away, clutching my ribs that ached from the first Ettin’s grip.
“Dragon.”
It was Sasha, coming after me.
“Just go away,” I said.
She stopped, a sad look on her face, and turned away.
I just wanted to be alone. How can I fight evil when I can’t kill it?
CHAPTER 14
“Urk!”
All four eyes of the Ettin widened. Shum got it. Right in the heart. The great Elven spear jutted from its chest.
“Ugh,” he said, removing his spear.
Shum had been fighting for hundreds of years. He’d killed and hunted many beasts, some mystical, some natural. Killing didn’t bother him. It was survival. Him or them. Such was the Roving Rangers way.
He closed the Ettin’s eyes and muttered in Rover, “May Nalzambor make good soil from your wicked bones.”
He called for his horse.
It trotted over.
Shum hopped on, muttered a word.
The spear collapsed to little more than a pointed rod that he tethered to the saddle.
He looked for Bayzog.
The wizard was gone. Safe now, he hoped.
“Good,” he said. He patted his horse on the neck. “Let’s go.”
Over the plains, across the creek and into the forest he went, picking up the trail where he left off. The Ettin had made it easy. Branches were broken or crushed on the forest floor. It had been sloppy, trying to find the woman.
Even an Ettin can be cautious. It must have been in a hurry.
His horse nickered.
Shum stopped. Cupped his ears and closed his eyes. His nose crinkled.
The sweat of Ettins caught his nose. Pungent. Like a rotting rain.
“Ah,” he said, “more mystery, it seems.”
The scent and trail led him to a crater. Not one of the small ones that littered the hot lands in the south, but a huge crater a mile across, filled with rocks and greens. It was the biggest crater he’d ever seen. An inverted mountain. Its sides were lined with caves, clefts and other openings.
“You better wait here,” he said to his horse.
This crater was different. Ancient. Mysterious and out of place. Maybe it was carved out by the Giants or Dwarves at one time. Maybe it led to the mines. His keen eyes scanned it from one rim to the other.
Clutch Of The Cleric (Book 4) Page 5
