Dragon Flight: Sisera's Gift 3 (Dragonblood Sagas Book 5)

by Robyn Wideman

  “By the gods,” Tarak said when the portal disappeared. The group was standing on a rock outcropping in the middle of a huge, flat grass field that was completely surrounded by steep mountains, creating what could only be described as a massive oval shaped bowl. At the far end of the field, lit up by a nearby fire, was the purple-and-gold-scaled dragonblood girl. But, she wasn’t alone.

  “Dragons!”

  The group immediately scattered as they tried to get off the rock shelf as quickly as possible. It was too much like a platter serving food for the dragons. If they were going to fight with only eleven men, they needed to be able to move. One of the mystical beasts was a problem but two seemed impossible.

  “Perhaps, your Sacred Blood is safe from me after all,” Zellox said as they stared at the beasts that stood only a few hundred yards away.

  “I’ve killed one of those filthy lizards before,” Tarak said. His goal had been the purple-gold girl and her beast but he couldn’t take his eyes off the massive white-gold that stood next to them.

  “What are they doing?” Zellox asked as he quickly arranged his battle-spells. “How come they haven’t attacked yet?”

  “They were just as surprised as us,” Tarak said, squinting against the darkness. “Likely, they are discussing strategy. Probably, something we should do too.”

  “The Morthon know how to make war. They don’t need any further instructions,” Zellox said. “I will protect them the best I can with magic. Obviously, we have never fought one of these things before so I don’t know how effective my magic will be against them. Luckily, these soldiers are also expert spear throwers.”

  “Good. Here they come,” Tarak said. He slid the twin daggers from his back and held them ready.

  The Morthon soldiers formed a square around their commander and put up their shields so they interlocked with the shield carried by the man next to him. The long spears they carried poked out of the gaps, creating something that looked, to Tarak, like a vicious, metal hedgehog. Tarak and Zellox stood together in front of the shield wall to await the dragon’s attack.

  The massive white-gold landed on the rock formation with the gold-purple landing next to it. The dragonblood girl rode on the golden dragon’s back but in a standing position. Tarak saw the recognition in her eyes when she saw him. Her dragon flared its wings and made a move toward him but the white roared and the gold dragon stopped in its tracks.

  “I am Apophis, alpha of the dragons. Cargoa is our island,” the white-gold said. “Who are you and what is your business?”

  “The alpha? Now that would be a kill,” thought Tarak. He had to tighten his grip on his blades to maintain his composure.

  “Do you want to talk or should I talk?” Zellox whispered. “I feel like this is your thing, so you should talk.”

  Tarak eyed the white-gold who was patiently waiting for a response. He considered rushing her but he knew that would just result in an easy kill for the alpha dragon. He cleared his throat and stepped forward.

  “I believe you know who I am,” he said, using magic to make his voice boom. It was an intimidation technique that he used frequently but this time was more out of habit than practicality. He doubted dragons were scared by loud noises.

  The white-gold turned as if she was going to consult with the dragonblood girl but changed her mind. “Yes, I know who you are,” the alpha said. “I suppose I also know what you want.”

  “Then, we are wasting time with all this talking,” Tarak said. “Just give me the girl and we will leave.”

  The white-gold shook her head. “I think you know that I won’t do that.”

  “It would be less fun if you did,” Tarak sneered.

  The High Priest turned to Zellox. “We need to separate them,” he said in a hushed tone. “I will try to draw one away. I think those spears are going to come in handy.”

  Tarak took off running toward the west end of the island. He was expecting to be assaulted by dragonfire but no blasts came his way. He looked back to see the white-gold dragon pump its massive wings and take flight. He was a little worried that both dragons would follow him but thankfully they acted as he thought they would. He was certain that the purple-gold would not attack him first. Tarak knew the girl would be angry but experience told him that she would not attack him until she was less shaken by his appearance. It was an advantage that he would have to capitalize on early, while he still had others fighting with him.

  Tarak kept a close eye on the white-gold dragon circling above him. He was at a clear disadvantage against the flying creature but he had more than a few tricks up his sleeve. When his magic was unlocked, it came back as strong as it was when he wore the Face of Garron, a Sacred Blood relic that amplified his powers.

  When he reached a safe distance from the squad of Morthon soldiers, Tarak stopped running. The white-gold was circling around, positioning to make an attack run so he quickly checked on his companions. It was difficult to make them out in dark until the gold-purple bathed the group in a burst of dragonfire. Zellox was obviously still somewhere there because a bubble of green light covered the squad before the fire did.

  Tarak stood facing the approaching dragon who was easier to see in the darkness because of her coloring. The white scales of the alpha reflected what little light there was, making her stand out against the night sky. The High Priest waited until Apophis was nearly upon him to cast his spell.

  Suddenly, a forty-foot-tall war elephant appeared on the battlefield. The white-gold was taken by surprise and veered to the right to avoid hitting the massive beast. Tarak knew that the dragon would just fly right through the construct but it was the surprise factor that he was looking for and he certainly had that. The High Priest began to run toward the disoriented dragon.

  The white-gold had banked sharply to avoid the giant elephant but Tarak had led it close enough to the mountain wall that when it turned, it quickly had to adjust so as to not fly straight into the sheer rock face. As Tarak predicted, it was easier for the dragon to land then to make the necessary adjustments in the air. This was the advantage he needed. When, the dragon figured itself out, Tarak had closed the distance between them.

  The High Priest cast another illusion as he ran and disappeared from view. In truth, he was merely veiled with thin, black smoke but in the dark, he became invisible.

  The alpha was clearly not prepared for his style of attack and he could nearly smell its fear. The beast pumped its massive wings to take flight once again but it was already too late.

  Tarak launched himself toward the beast just as it was lifting off the ground. He managed to bury one dagger in the dragon’s shoulder, the black-steel cutting into the dragonscale like it was a piece of soft fruit. He gripped the handle with all his might and watched the ground grow distant as the dragon rose higher and higher into the sky. The High Priest managed to twist around and sink the second dagger into the dragon’s shoulder to give him a better hold while the alpha tried to rid itself of the unwanted passenger. The dragon performed loops and twists but Tarak held fast. His muscles burned at the effort but he managed to dismiss the pain because the alternative was falling to the ground far below.

  “Not going to throw me that easily, lizard,” Tarak shouted. He grinned when there was no response.

  The dragon suddenly rolled in the air, trying to take the man by surprise but it only strengthened his position. Tarak’s body flopped over as the dragon rolled and he turned himself so that he was facing forward instead of hanging off. He also wedged himself into the dragon’s plate-like back scales. He repositioned the daggers to give him better control. The black-steel sunk into the dragon’s back just as easily as they had in its shoulder.

  Tarak could not help but remember the bronze-yellow he killed at the tower in Mara. He remembered launching himself off the top of the tower to land on the creatures back. That dragon was not nearly as large or as wide as the one he was currently on. It was merely a hunter’s instinct to stab at the base of the c
reature’s neck but the dragon fell, lifeless, from the sky when he buried his daggers into it.

  It was the black-steel that made all the difference. From his vantage point at the top of the tower, Tarak could see how futile regular weapons were against the flying lizards. Swords crafted by the Sacred Blood were considered to be of the finest quality and Tarak saw more than a dozen simply shatter when they struck dragonscale.

  Tarak had a hard time seeing where the dragon was flying but discerned from what he could that the white-gold was flying toward one of the mountain peaks. When the dragon turned itself sharply, he understood what the beast was going to do. The lizard was going to try to scrape him of its back.

  “Now or never, I guess,” he said to himself and repositioned himself into a lunging pose. Tarak dove toward the base of the massive dragon’s neck, using its own scales to push off for extra burst. He swung the daggers wildly and hit his mark. Both foot-long black-steel daggers sank into the armor-like scales between the beast’s shoulders.

  The white-gold roared in agony.

  Leaving one dagger firmly planted in the dragon, Tarak pulled the other one out and proceeded to stab the creature repeatedly.

  Suddenly, the dragon crashed into the peak of the mountain. The creature’s body absorbed most of the impact but it still knocked the wind out of Tarak and he lost his grip on the daggers. At first, the dragon began to slide down the rock face but soon it was in a free fall straight down the sheer cliff with Tarak following close behind.

  Tarak had expected to fall with the beast, as he had with the bronze-yellow, and prepared a spell to help with the landing but he had not accounted for the crash into the mountain. When he recovered his wits, it was too late to enact the spell. The High Priest wasn’t sure that the dragon’s body would soften the landing very much so he closed his eyes and braced for the impact.

  Thanks to Lord Zellox, the impact never came.

  The warlord managed to grab Tarak with a magical bubble before he hit the ground. Zellox guided the bubble toward himself and set the High Priest safely next to him.

  “I can’t let you die before I get what you owe me,” Zellox said.

  Tarak ignored the man’s comment and scanned the field. Even in the dimness, he should still see the gold-purple.

  “Where is the other one?” he asked.

  “Flew off.”

  Tarak turned to look at the warlord. “Come again.”

  Lord Zellox shrugged. “It flew off and took the girl with it. It took a few spears but we injured it. It killed six of the Morthon soldiers, though.”

  Tarak nodded. “Hmm, you fight well, Zellox,” he said. It was the closest thing to a thank you the man was going to get.

  “I must say, you are also much more impressive than I imagined,” Zellox said. “That corpse over there is a testament to your abilities.”

  Tarak looked toward the motionless white heap that lay at the base of the mountain. The force of the crash had broken and twisted its body into a sickening, unnatural position.

  Perhaps it was the adrenaline pumping through his veins but only now did Tarak fully realize what he had just done.

  “I killed the alpha,” he said in near disbelief. He walked toward the lifeless corpse, cautiously in case it was a possum ruse. When he was satisfied the beast was truly dead, he pulled out one of his daggers and stabbed it into the dragon’s head, piercing its brain. When he pulled the blade out, it was hard to tell that it was coated with blood as the color was similar to the black-steel. Only when it started to drip could they see it.

  Tarak pulled down the front of his robe and pulled back the armor underneath, exposing the amulet he received from the Sisters of Garron. He lifted the dagger and let the dark liquid drip onto the black crystal pendant. When the blood struck the carved hand, the dark glow it was already emitting grew larger. A rush of energy surged through his body.

  “I think there is someone over there.”

  So taken by the rush, Tarak took a moment to understand what Zellox had just said.

  “Where?” he asked finally.

  Zellox pointed toward the small camp at the northern tip of the island, where they had first seen the dragons, and Tarak took off running toward it. His legs pumped harder than they ever had and crossed the flat, grass field in no time.

  The camp consisted of a particularly large lean-to, that covered a variety of alchemical instruments and large, crude vats, and a firepit. There was also a pile of rubble that consisted of pieces suggesting it was previously a hut.

  “Come out,” he shouted but there was no response.

  When Zellox had reached the camp, Tarak had already searched it entirely but with no results.

  “Let me try,” the warlord said and he cast a spell. An orb slowly grew above his head and when it was about the size of a small melon, it began to float around the camp. It first appeared to be spinning in a circle but it was soon evident that it was moving in a spiral pattern, spreading out more and more with each rotation. “There,” he said when the orb stopped over one of the large glass vats.

  “I already looked in it,” Tarak said.

  “Did you look under it?”

  The High Priest let out a sigh of frustration. He did not. He walked over to the vat and began to inspect the base. Sure enough, there was a spot where the grass had been dug up and there was only dirt.

  “Come out or I will burn you alive in there,” Tarak shouted.

  The dirt pile began to tremor until a hole appeared and hand popped out.

  “I’m coming out. Don’t hurt me.” The voice sounded like it belonged to an elderly woman.

  “You!” Tarak recognized the woman immediately. He had seen her at the Tower of Mara. She was the healer.

  The old woman spat at him.

  Tarak could do nothing but laugh.

  Zellox gave him a questioning look as held captured the woman within a spell-bubble. “What is so funny?’ the warlord asked.

  “The Dragonblood girl won’t leave her friend behind,” Tarak said with a smile. “Two dead dragons sounds a lot better than just one.”

  40

  “Is it possible for you to elaborate on why it is better to find her at night?” Kai asked as he chopped at the thick underbrush that stood in their way. “This is a hard enough go in the daylight, let alone in near darkness.”

  “There used to be a path but it seems that when she redecorated the island, that wasn’t one of her considerations,” Bastion said as he followed contently behind the two men while they cut through the brush. A magical orb of light hovered above his head, providing a limited amount of light for the group.

  “What do mean by redecorate?” Aarav asked as he skirted carefully around a large spider-web that held an equally large spider.

  “Being exiled out here can be a little dull so when she needs something new to look at, she moves things around a bit,” Bastion said.

  “She must be very powerful,” Aarav said.

  Bastion let out a laugh that was more startling to the two men than the huge spider they had just encountered.

  “I suppose you two would consider her powerful. Only because you don’t really understand what true power is,” the boy said, still chuckling to himself. “I suppose it is not your fault though. You are not a true magic blood,” he said, nodding to Kai. He then nodded at Aarav and said, “And you have none at all. It is not reasonable to think you would have any experience. Let me see …” The boy’s words faded as he seemed to get lost in thought.

  Kai and Aarav exchanged a knowing look and a quiet laugh as they continued their slow trudge through the brush.

  “There were the witches. That would probably be the closest.” The boy seemed to be talking to himself because he was clearly not talking to either of the men. “Perhaps the old man. No, he wouldn’t have shown them anything of value. No, no, no … Oh!” Bastion perked up. “I almost forgot about the girl and her dragon. Yes, that is probably the closest outside of the witches. I
f she reaches anywhere close to her potential, she will be something to see,” the boy said, with a hint of excitement in his voice. “Yes, the golden girl will be something special, for sure. History is going to remember her no matter which side she chooses.”

  Bastion’s comment made Kai stop dead in his tracks. “What are you talking about? What sides do you mean?”

  “Ah,” Bastion said, as he realized he had made a blunder. “Nothing to worry about yet.”

  “What? What kind of an answer is that? What do you know and how do you know it?” Kai asked, taking a stand in front of the boy.

  Bastion sidestepped the man and as he walked by, he gave Kai a wink and said, “True power.”

  Kai stood for a moment, stunned by the boy’s cocky response.

  “Don’t worry about him. He’s an asshole.”

  Kai leaped in surprise at the female voice. He drew his sword and spun in circles trying to find the source. The voice just laughed. It was coming from above him. Kai jumped back and scanned the thick forest canopy but the darkness made it impossible to see.

  “Hello, Sova,” Bastion said loudly as he walked up behind Kai with Aarav in tow.

  A giant owl suddenly turned its head, giving Kai a surprise. He had scanned that very spot repeatedly and did not suspect a thing as it was camouflaged in the tree. As the owl flew down to the travellers, its feathers seemed to change color from dark brown and green to glossy black with prominent sections of white and brilliant streaks of red. The bird’s legs, feet, and talons were also a bright red color. They could see that she was roughly four feet tall when she landed in front of them.

  “Hello, you little prick,” the owl said. “I should have known they were sending you. When they ‘failed’ to mention who the escort was going to be; that should have been my first clue.”

  Even though he knew a dragon that could speak the common tongue, Kai was still shocked by the sight of a talking bird. He did find it amusing though, that she did not seem to have any love for the annoying boy.