Clutch Of The Cleric (Book 4)

by Craig Halloran

  I shuffled by Shum and Bayzog, head down, hiding the golden glimmer in my eyes.

  ***

  Back at the Place of Meet, Bayzog separated himself from the others in his mind.

  The others talked, partially explaining where they’d been. But it was clear enough. They planned their trek to find Sansla Libor the Rover King.

  The Occular of Orray wasn’t mentioned. It bothered him that he couldn’t speak of it to Sasha. What if she asked? What would he say? Wizards were masters of the partly true story. But he couldn’t deceive the one he loved.

  “Bayzog.” Laedorn approached, alone. A solemn look in his eyes. “What do you think?”

  Bayzog said, “I think Dragon is glad he isn’t cured. I think he wanted it that way.”

  Laedorn looked over his shoulder where the others gathered. Dragon was laughing. Joking. All eyes were upon him. Even the Elven troubadours and maidens.

  “I share your thoughts, Bayzog. And I wonder if the Occular could cure him and he didn’t let it. The council certainly hoped that it would. This news that it didn’t will be dreadful.” Laedorn shook his head. “Dreadful, indeed.”

  “Why do you say so? What do they know? What do they suspect?”

  “Some of us were still around for the last Dragon war. I was younger then. But many saw the black Dragons. Nath makes them uneasy. Nalzambor is in unrest. We were hoping to prevent something that might not be preventable.”

  “Are you saying war is inevitable?” Bayzog said.

  “You are as much a great historian as you are a wizard. What do you think?”

  “I think I’d better keep a close eye on him.”

  Laedorn looked hard in his eyes. “I think we all better do that.” Laedorn slipped a bracelet over Bayzog’s wrist.

  “What this for?”

  “Keep me posted, Bayzog.” Laedorn turned to walk away. “I wish you all the fortune in Nalzambor.”

  CHAPTER 27

  The ride out of the Elven Lands was quiet. Steady. A soft rain accompanied us after the Elven Guard departed. For some reason I felt happy, but the others’ expressions weren’t so bright.

  Shum was determined to find Sansla Libor.

  Bayzog, I could clearly see, was disappointed. He hardly even spoke to me.

  Up ahead, Brenwar slowed. Allowed me to catch up. Wrung the water out of his beard.

  “What’s the plan?” Brenwar asked. “We taking the boys back north or do we follow Shum, after Sansla Libor?” Brenwar’s brown eyes narrowed. Gazing after the big boned Elf. “What happened with those Elves, anyway? Back in Elome. No one’s talking. And I’m not stupid, Dragon. You’re holding back something.”

  He looked me in the eye. His stare hard. Penetrating.

  I couldn’t lie to Brenwar. But I could keep a secret. I could tell part of the truth. Not all.

  “I’ve agreed to help Shum find his king for now. Bring him back to the Elves for trial.” I looked away and rode on. “My problems will just have to wait until later.”

  Brenwar came right after me. “Am I to understand we no longer search for this Occular? That’s all we talked about on the way here!”

  “Plans change,” I said. “It can’t be all about me, you know. Now keep your voice down.”

  Brenwar harrumphed. “What do ye mean, keep my voice down?”

  “Just do. I don’t want to have a group discussion about it, if you don’t mind. I just want to ride. Find Sansla. Save some Dragons along the way. It’s bound to be a long journey.”

  “Most journeys are—pah—when you don’t know where you’re going,” he said. “And you, Dragon, don’t know where you’re going. And I know yer hiding something. I can feel it in my bones.” He rode off. Towards Shum. Far enough ahead where I could barely see him with the fog. The rolling mist.

  Ben and Garrison rode up alongside me. Excited looks on their faces.

  “Look at this, Dragon,” Ben said. He had a horned rabbit skewered on a stick. “Snared the both of them we did. Just like you taught me. Like I taught Garrison.”

  Garrison had another one.

  “Somebody’s going to eat well tonight,” I said, “and those pelts are worth a week’s pay, I bet. Each I’d say.”

  “Told you,” Garrison said. “Say, what’s wrong with Brenwar? Does he always get mad at everything you say?”

  I laughed. “That’s a good observation, Garrison, but you’ll get used to it.”

  “Are all Dwarves like that?” Garrison asked.

  “Some more so,” I said, “but most not nearly so bad.”

  Garrison shifted in his saddle. Eyeing me. Catching my eyes, then looking away.

  “Is there something else you wanted to ask?”

  The young legionnaire brushed his bangs from his forehead. Wiped the water from his face.

  “Who’s Sansla Libor?”

  “Yes, Dragon,” Ben said. “Tell us about that?”

  I didn’t see the harm in telling Ben and Garrison about it. They’d need to be prepared for such things in case he showed up again. But I wasn’t going to tell them the part about him being the Rover King.

  “He’s a monster.”

  “What kind of monster?” Ben said.

  “Give me a moment. I just started.”

  Garrison hit Ben in the shoulder. Motioned for me to continue.

  “Ahem. A winged ape. Bigger than me. Fast as a cat and powerful as an ogre,” I said. “It drops out of the sky as quiet as rain. Snatches its prey up like an eagle does. Sweeps them away, never to be seen again. I faced it twice. Took my lumps, I did. But the next time I face it.” I held out my claws. “I’ll break it.”

  We rode on. The rain was a drizzle now. Silent until someone spoke again. It was Garrison.

  “What do the Elves want it for?”

  “Murder,” I said.

  “It killed Elves?” Ben said.

  “That and other things. And we have to stop it before it kills again.”

  “Well, I’m ready,” Ben said, sticking out his chest.

  “You’re going home,” I said, bothered. “It’s back to the Legionnaires where you belong, Ben. This mission’s dangerous enough already.”

  “What? Really?” Ben said. “It’s only been a week. I have a month and I can handle myself just fine already. Think about it, Dragon. I’ve survived fights with both Draykis and Ettins.”

  “And horned rabbits,” I said, laughing.

  “Draykis,” Garrison said. “What’s a Draykis?”

  “Sort of like a Lizard Man, but more like a Dragon,” Ben said. “Right, Dragon?”

  “Close enough,” I said. Ben and Garrison were starting to bother me. I didn’t want them around but it was going to take some convincing. “But honestly, Ben, this journey might take months, years maybe. You might be an old man before we even find him. If we find him.”

  “But I want to stay with you, Dragon. I want to travel. Adventure. I’m ready. You know I am.”

  He was ready. But he still wasn’t coming.

  “Oh,” Garrison said, turning his horse around.

  “Where you going?” Ben asked.

  “There’s another snare I forgot to check back there. I’ll be right back,” he said, riding off.

  “Want me to come along?” Ben yelled after his friend.

  I grabbed his shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Let him go. Besides, I need to work on that hard head of yours. You’re going back, Ben. No choice.”

  “But what about Sasha?” he said. “She’s human too.”

  He made a good point, but Sasha wasn’t my problem. Not that she was a problem, but that was up to Bayzog. I did find it strange that he let her travel with him at all. Especially as protective as he was.

  “She a sorceress, Ben. She can live longer. You can’t do that, can you?”

  He frowned. “No.”

  “And she not a legionnaire either, is she?”

  Still frowning, head down, he rode away.

  I felt bad for him. I re
ally did. But it was the right thing.

  ***

  Garrison drifted back, out of sight, taking a spot in a sparse grove of turning trees and falling leaves. He hopped out of his saddle, checked his surroundings, and procured a small figurine from one of his pouches.

  It was a robed, bald Man carved out of wood. An evil look in its eyes.

  He rubbed it between his hands, faster and faster. His hands glowed. Became hot. He dropped it to the ground.

  “Sheesh!” He rubbed his smoking hands in the dirt. Gritted his teeth. “Hate doing this.”

  An image formed over the figurine. A Man-sized shadow. Almost as real as his nose. Dark eyes encircled pupils that burned like fire.

  Garrison kneeled down. Bowed. Rose up a hair.

  “High Cleric Kryzak,” he said, “I have news.”

  The image wavered in the wind, then stiffened. The voice was strong. He could feel it.

  “Share, Soldier, share,” Kryzak said, “What business had they in the Elven Lands? We could not communicate with you there.”

  “My Lord, they sought aid to find Sansla Libor. He’s cursed and seeks a cure. Nath Dragon does too.”

  “Are you certain of what you report?” Kryzak said, his image coming closer.

  Garrison broke into a cold sweat. He’d seen what the war cleric did to those who failed.

  “I’m certain,” he said. “I’ve picked up on what they’ve tried to keep hidden. My ears,” he said, rubbing a small metal earring on his lobe, “are picking up lots of things thanks to this enchanted jewel.”

  “Tell me more,” the dark voice said.

  “They sought an item. The Occular of Orray. It heals. Removes curses and disease they say. The Elves search for a winged ape. White. Powerful. He is the Rover King, Sansla Libor. Nath Dragon sought to remove his black scales, but does not talk of it now.” He caught his breath. “He seems content.”

  “I see,” the shadow said, rubbing his chin. “And what of you, Soldier?”

  “He sends us back towards Quintuklen.”

  “Hmmm,” Kryzak said, “journey back to where you started. Convince Nath Dragon to follow. If needed I will assist you. Worry naught about the others. I’ll take care of them when the time comes.”

  Garrison bowed again. “As you wish, my lord. I’ll not let the Clerics of Barnabus down.”

  The image faded. The glow of the figurine went out.

  He picked it up and stuffed it in his pouch. Stuck his boot in the stirrup and boosted himself up. “This will be interesting.”

  He wondered what Kryzak had in mind for Dragon. Death. Torture. Mutilation. He’d heard about Nath Dragon much in his life. His parents were servants of Barnabus. It was all he’d ever known. He was raised to hate the Dragons. But he hid it well. Unlike his parents he wasn’t deft in magic, but he had a clever tongue. A simplistic, non-threatening demeanor. It made for an excellent spy, and he liked it. How I enjoy messing with people. Pulling rugs and Dragons out from underneath them.

  He rode with a sly smile under his nose until he got there. This was the greatest mission ever.

  CHAPTER 28

  “Dragon, come,” Shum said.

  I followed him on horseback, leaving the others behind.

  We were another day into our journey. Garrison had pleaded we escort them back to the village the Ettins attacked, to see that everything was alright. Shum and Brenwar saw no problem with it, seeing how the last time we saw Sansla Libor it was in the north and it was the most likely place to head anyway. Personally, I didn’t mind. I wanted to get a look at that crater again anyway. Something ate at me about it.

  Shum hopped off his horse and I followed suit. The big Elf had been scouting ahead the whole time, keeping out of sight until night sometimes. His movements were purposed. His gestures quick.

  I followed along. Up a faded path, past the naked branches and stopped behind the bushes that overlooked a cliff.

  “Smell that,” he said.

  My nose crinkled. It was offended. “Orcs!” I whispered, my blood charged.

  Shum nodded. Battle awakening in his eyes.

  If there was one time when Dwarves, Elves, and Men got along, it was against Orcs. We all hated them and they hated all of us.

  Shum stuck his long finger out. There must have been two dozen of them camping, that I could see.

  “Pretty close to the Elven Lands,” I said. “They are getting braver, just like Laedorn said.”

  “We can go around,” Shum said, “but I figured you’d want to get a look. You’ve tangled more with them than I have recently.”

  I flexed my arms. Clenched my claws. What an opportunity! Turn loose both my arms and my breath on the Orcs. Sure, I couldn’t kill them. But I could hurt them. Maim them. Frighten the hair off their backs.

  We hunched down. Watched. Waited. Shum was right. No sense in endangering ourselves or the rest of the party on account of Orcs.

  The breed below were wild ones. Some had small tusks under their noses. Some hard flat bellies while others’ bulged over their belts.

  I just wanted to punch them out. Break some bones. Leave some with a limp for life maybe.

  They tussled, grunted, and poked fun at one another, making coarse sounds and jokes.

  “I suppose we should go,” I said, “but do you think it necessary to send word to the Elves?”

  “No,” Shum replied, “they’ve doubled patrols already on the borderland. Perhaps these are some of the ones that have been hunting game on their land.”

  “I wonder what kind of game they’re after,” I said, watching one of the Orcs.

  It was stirring up a commotion. Beating its chest about something. It waved another Orc over with a face filled with metal and rings. It had a leash.

  It has a Dragon on that leash!

  My blood turned white hot.

  Shum grabbed my shoulder. “Don’t react, Dragon. Plan, then attack,” he said in my ear.

  I took a sharp breath.

  They had two Dragons, not one. Each the size of a large goat. They were Golden Flowers. Canary yellow scales sparkled with pale bellies. My keen eyes picked up the long lashes on their eyes. Two girls. Sisters, probably. Beautiful and sleek. Hissing and slashing their tales while the Orcs stood by laughing. Jerking the collars on their necks.

  I tore out of Shum’s grasp.

  “Dragon!” he half-yelled. “Let’s get the others!”

  As I dashed down the hill, the wind whistled through my ears. My auburn hair flowed around me.

  An Orc pointed my way. Sounded the alarm.

  I kept on going.

  They formed a row at the bottom. Weapons ready to greet me. Axes, hammers and flails, wielded in handfuls of ugly.

  I leapt over the tops of their heads―leaving them to their cries of astonishment―and made a bead for the Dragons.

  A big Orc, rock solid and black-haired, charged after me.

  I struck. Snapped his head back. Knocked him out.

  One dove at my legs.

  Another swung a cleaver at my head. The blade skipped off my scaled arm as I jumped up.

  I tore a hunk of its chest armor out. Twisted the blade from its grasp and hoisted the Orc over my head.

  Three Orcs with wet pig noses closed in.

  I gave them a gift. Hurled their pig-faced brother right into them.

  Wham!

  They rocked and reeled.

  I kept moving.

  The Orcs were dragging the Golden Flowers away. Jerking at the ropes.

  I yelled something. I don’t know what, maybe “Stop!”

  They didn’t listen. They should have.

  My black arm flashed into the nearest Orc’s chin.

  Crack!

  It wobbled to the ground.

  Slit!

  I cut the leash from the first Dragon’s neck with my claws and went after the rest of the Orcs.

  The metal-faced Orc greeted me with long sharp steel in hand.

  I chopped. I blocke
d.

  Its blade skipped off my scales.

  I didn’t feel a thing. But the Orc did.

  Crunch!

  I drove my knee into its crotch.

  Its eyes exploded in their sockets. At least I could slow the Orc breeding process.

  Whop!

  I knocked it out with another punch. Grabbed the second leash and sliced if off with my claws.

  Two yellow Dragons scurried over the ground, squawking like birds.

  Orcs dove after them from all directions.

  They spread their wings and darted into the air like shooting stars.

  Crack!

  Someone clubbed me in the back of the head. Stars circled. The Orcs piled on.

  ***

  Shum hesitated. Didn’t move. Watching Dragon dash down the hill. There were too many Orcs, way too many to take on at once. They’d need help. At least Brenwar to even things out.

  “Probably dead if I do, dead if I don’t,” he said, pulling out his sword.

  He kept his eyes fixed on Dragon. The Man was fast. Fluid. Strong. He cleared the first wave of Orcs in a single bound. Assaulted the others with the fury of a storm. Dragon disappeared under a wave of Orcs when he hit the bottom of the hill. He stabbed the nearest Orc.

  Krang!

  He clocked the helmet off another. The Orcs responded. Their forces divided. Coming after him and Dragon.

  “Har! It’s an Elf,” one yelled. It was a big Orc. Heavy and gusty. A heavy sword in both hands. “A big one at that. I’ll have his head.”

  Swish!

  Shum ducked under the Orc’s swing and countered. Slice! The Orc fell to the ground with his head missing.

  “No, I’ll have yours.”

  A fervor rose among the Orcs. A cry of alarm.

  Dragon rose from the pile with two Orcs by the necks. He slammed their heads together and let out an inhuman growl.

  The Orcs stabbed and chopped.

  Dragon brushed them away. Dragon’s eyes were wild. Golden flares.

  Shum sliced, dodged and parried. Kept the Orcs at bay with the sword and dagger both quicker than snakes. “Dragon!” Shum yelled, “Make a run for it. The Dragons are free. We’ve no quarrel left with them.”