Fight And The Fury (Book 8)

by Craig Halloran

  Nath shook his head and kept on walking.

  Bayzog could tell his friend had let something slip out that he didn’t want to explain. But the excitement of the conversation led right to it.

  “Nath,” Bayzog said, catching up with him. “I must insist.”

  Nath jerked around.

  “Alright!” He took a breath. “Alright then.” Nath sat on the pine-needled forest floor and leaned against a tree. “Gorn Grattack.”

  Bayzog recoiled and lost his breath. Recovering, he kneeled by Nath’s side and said, “What about him?”

  “He appeared in my dream. He spoke. He said he was coming to get me,” Nath said, rubbing his forehead. “Why would I have a dream about that, Bayzog? Why?” He glanced at his claws. His eyes traced the white patches of scales on them. “If I’m doing right, then why do I feel so wrong?”

  Bayzog felt a chill inside his chest. His hand rested on the amulet he shared with his family. His son Samaz often had dark dreams. He never told Bayzog, but he did tell his mother, Sasha, who in turn confided in him. He worried how they were doing.

  “You’ve been through much, Nath,” Bayzog said, trying to sound reassuring. “And we cannot understand the changes you’ve been through or the weight on your great shoulders. But Nath, we believe in you. We wouldn’t have made it this far if we hadn’t.”

  Nath gazed up at him with a long look in his eyes and said, “I’m going to have to leave.”

  “No, we’ve talked about that.”

  “But Bayzog, Gorn Grattack said he was coming for me. He called me a meddler. He said he would kill all my friends.” Nath’s hand fell on Fang’s hilt. “I can’t protect you from him. His might, Bayzog. I could feel it. Nothing ever shook my marrow before, aside from my father.” He shook his head. “How can that be? How can Gorn Grattack still live?”

  Bayzog wanted to pinch Nath’s lips shut. Gorn Grattack had been the greatest dragon in the last dragon war. The champion of evil. The enslaver of the world. So far as the wizard knew, none had uttered the evil dragon’s name or even written it in five hundred years. Since the last Great Dragon War was won. Saying the name, the old ones said, was the same as saying a curse. Few even knew about him in today’s world, except for the older elves, dwarves, and dragons. But careful measures were taken to make the name be forgotten.

  Bayzog patted Nath’s knee and said, “Remember Nath, evil lies. I’d venture that he wants to separate you from those who look out for you. You’ll be easier to conquer alone. That’s what they want. That’s what they always want.”

  “I don’t want to see my friends die because of me,” Nath said.

  “That’s not your choice. It’s ours.”

  Nath sulked for a bit, then stretched out his arm and let Bayzog help him to his feet. Placing his dragon paws on Bayzog’s shoulders, he said, “You’re a true friend, but I have to put an end to this.”

  “No, we have to put an end to this, Nath. And don’t forget, your father says more help is coming.” Bayzog rubbed Nath’s corded forearms. The scales were smoother than wet river stones. “But it would be nice if we all had tough skin such as this. Perhaps I can create a spell for that one day.”

  “Ho!” From high in his saddle, Brenwar yelled.

  Ben and one of the Roaming Rangers fell in behind them. There was an Elven Steed for each of them now, aside from Nath.

  “What’s going on here?” Brenwar said.

  “Speaking of thick skin,” Nath mumbled.

  Bayzog allowed a grin.

  “Harrumph! What’s so amusing?” Brenwar’s nose twitched. “I smell secrecy. Out with it.”

  “Bad dreams,” Nath said. “Bad dreams. Let’s walk and talk.”

  ***

  Clearing the air did little to ease Brenwar’s disposition, or Ben’s either. They wouldn’t let Nath out of their sight for anything, especially now, after what he’d told them. However, unlike before, it didn’t bother him so much. The freedom Nath longed for was replaced with something greater: the companionship of his friends.

  “Gnomes,” Brenwar huffed. “Of all the silly things, I ‘m tracking gnomes. Why don’t we chase after some bearded kobolds next? Hmmm?”

  The dwarven fighter had been grumbling about it for almost an hour. He referred to the gnomes as ‘short men without stature’ and ‘goblins’ stupid cousins’. There was a litany of things dwarves didn’t like, and they loved to talk about them all.

  Shum returned. His horse was lathered up, and there was a spark behind his stony eyes.

  “You found them” Nath said.

  “Indeed. Less than a league.”

  Nath hated to ask the next question, but he did. “And what is their condition?”

  “Alive, we believe. They’ve managed to traverse the cliffs farther east, and we think they are hidden in the caves.” Shum shook his head. “The caves are many.”

  “And what of the creature that pursues them?” Nath said. “Any sign of it?”

  “Its tracks stop at the edge of the cliff and vanish.”

  “So, the Roaming Rangers have initiated a search in the cliffs.”

  Shum shook his head.

  “Why not?” Nath said.

  “Above the cliffs … there be dragons.”

  CHAPTER 16

  The cliffs were sheer, but manageable. The stone surface was cut away in parts, forming level paths carved out long ago by another civilization. It reminded Nath of the rock-carved goblin fort in the Shale Hills where he had battled the necromancer Corzan. That seemed a lifetime ago.

  The footing wouldn’t be difficult, even for a gnome. Vines hung over the rocky edges, and trees were abundant for climbing. Any cautious person could make the climb. A desperate person just as well. And there were plenty of caves dotting the cliff face, any of which was big enough to provide shelter.

  But dragons circled above.

  A dozen grey scalers.

  Bigger than men.

  The hunters of Barnabus.

  “Brenwar,” Nath said, “can you make anything of the cliffs? Could the gnomes find another way to escape?”

  “Solid,” he said. “Those caves aren’t carved, just porous spots in the rock face. Those ledges were roads once. Nothing more.” He squinted. “That’s why they remain. Only one way up and down, and we’re looking at it. If gnomes had any sense, they’d head back down.”

  The gnomes had gone up for a reason, though. Something chased them. A predator. Swift and cunning. Nath had seen strange paw prints in the dirt. It was the faintest marking. Almost ghostly. Neither he nor the Wilder Elves could make out the full print, but Nath felt he should know it.

  “Something else lurks down here,” he said to them all. “Be alert. I’m getting an odd feeling.”

  Above, a grey scaler dove through the sky and neared one of the caves. A hovering bird of prey, it screeched at the hole.

  Nath’s ears caught the twang of a bowstring loosed, and he watched an arrow whiz through the air and tear through the dragon’s wing.

  It squawked, wings batting in fury and lifting it higher into the sky’s safety among the others.

  “Rangers are posted along those rocks,” Shum said, pointing the way. “We’ve been fending them off since we got here. They can provide cover while we search the caves, but at some point or another we will have to battle those dragons. And there’s more of them than us.”

  “Well, Barnabus wants the gnomes back—” Nath said,

  “And I say we let them have the gnomes,” Brenwar interjected.

  Nath glared at Brenwar and continued, “and we won’t let that happen. Shum, have your Rangers keep their bows ready. I think Ben can help keep them off our backs.”

  Ben nodded at him.

  “Shum, Hoven, and I will go up.”

  “And what will I do?” Brenwar said. “Stand down here and throw rocks at them?”

  Shum glanced at Brenwar’s new bracers and said, “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

  Br
enwar looked at his wrists.

  “Ho! I think I like how yer thinking, elf!” He clapped his hands together. “Come Ben, help me fetch some stones.”

  “Look!” Ben said, pointing towards the sky, loading his bow.

  Two grey scalers dove towards the rocks where Shum’s archers were posted. Arrows ricocheted off the dragons’ hides and horns. A third dragon slipped behind them. Arrows zinged through the air. Some found a soft spot, others skipped off their hides before all three dragons soared back high in the air. It all happened in seconds.

  “They test our forces,” Shum said. “Rousting us from our roost. But we can hold them. The Roaming Rangers are outstanding marksmen, and our elven arrows seek their soft spots and slow their efforts.”

  “Yer arrows need to kill them,” Brenwar said.

  “Easier said than done,” Shum said. “I’ve seen dragons fly with a dozen arrows in them. I’ve even seen heavy crossbow bolts skip off their bellies. That’s why we go for the wings. It makes them mad, but it slows them.”

  “Alright then,” Nath said, “then let’s get moving.” He then said to Bayzog, “And I expect you to come up with something to deal with those dragons before we find those gnomes.”

  “I will,” Bayzog reassured him.

  Nath nodded, headed for the cliffs. He halted at the sound of a blood-curdling cry.

  “That was one of mine,” Shum decried. He rushed towards the sound, swift as a gazelle.

  Nath kept close a half step behind.

  In seconds, they arrived at the spot in the rocks were the scream came from.

  “NO!” Shum cried out, rushing to his friend’s aid. It was too late.

  The Ranger was mauled to pieces.

  CHAPTER 17

  The Roaming Rangers, steely in resolve, had long looks on their stony faces. Shum and Hoven knelt beside their fallen brother, laid on hands, and began chanting in ancient Elvish. As they did, other Roaming Rangers filed in, smooth in gait, bright elven steel on their broad hips. A dark fire burned in their eyes. They joined the chanting.

  Bayzog closed his eyes and did some chanting of his own, and a magical shield covered the mourning Wilder Elves. He beckoned everyone closer.

  Brenwar and Ben moved in closer only because Nath did, they were so entranced by the ritual.

  Nath felt a pit inside his gut. He recalled the last time a Roaming Ranger fell. Shum. Somehow, Sansla Libor had brought him back from the dead. He checked the sky. There was no sign of the winged ape, but the dragons crowed evil sounds. Mocking. Taunting. But it was not them who had done this. It was something else.

  Over a minute had passed when Shum stood up again and said, “He is gone.” Some of the Roaming Rangers lifted the bloody body of their brother and vanished into the woods. “They will return, shortly,” Shum said, watching them go. “And then we shall hunt this menace down and end it.”

  The Roaming Rangers Shum and Hoven, dressed in heavy cloaks and woodland garb, stood broad and rangy. Long flaxen hair braided and beaded. Well-framed, broad, rugged as the wilderness they called home.

  Nath had no doubt that whatever took their brother would pay, if he let them chase after it, but he thought that might not be the best plan.

  “We have a plan to save the gnomes from Barnabus,” Nath reminded them, eyeing the cliffs while another dragon dove, landed, and began prowling the ledges. “And we need to act quickly, regardless of the circumstance. What do you suggest, Shum?”

  Roaming Rangers were hard to read, both Shum and his brother Hoven. But what Nath could not see, he could feel. Anger. Anxiousness. The Roaming Rangers wanted to let loose on something. Nath couldn’t blame them.

  Shum’s long fingers drummed the hilts of his swords. Eyeing the sky, he said, “You and I will still go up. Hoven will stay here and keep an eye on the rest.” His narrow eyes scanned the woods. “Whatever skulks in these woods, we’ll be ready for next time.”

  “Are you sure?” Nath said.

  “We are Roaming Rangers, young dragon,” Shum said, whisking out his swords. “We pledge our lives to the greater good of Nalzambor. Chaldun’s death honors his life.” Without another word, he sprinted for the cliffs.

  ***

  Bayzog’s mouth hung open. He wanted to speak with Nath. Instead, he found himself gaping at Nath and Shum’s sprint for the cliffs. The pair of warriors didn’t slow, climbing the brush-heavy cliff-face like a pair of monkeys. He’d never seen men so large move so fast and fluidly.

  “What are ye thinking, elf?” Brenwar said, holding a large rock on his shoulder.

  “I’m thinking we need to stay close,” he said. “I believe our enemies are determined to divide our forces.”

  “That’s what I would do,” Brenwar said, dropping his stone, “and I don’t assume I’ll be able to do any rock fetching without an escort.” He punched his fist into his hand. “But I don’t need one. And those Roaming Rangers need more armor on.”

  “I thought they had armor?”

  “Light armor,” Brenwar said, tapping his breastplate, “and not dwarven.”

  Bayzog surveyed the spot where the Roaming Ranger Chaldun had fallen. A pair of his brother Wilder Elves had returned and begun covering all the blood with dirt. It left him with a sick feeling. He could still see the elf’s body, torn and broken. Just like Otter Bone and Horse Neck. Life taken like a branch snapped. He found Ben’s eyes.

  “Let’s get our backs to the rocks and keep our eyes on the sky,” the warrior said, unhitching Akron from his back. Snap. Clatch. Snap. “And everywhere else we aren’t looking.”

  Hoven walked over and said, “Follow my men and secure your positions.”

  “What are you going to do?” Bayzog asked.

  “I’ll be near.” The big elf hopped on his horse and eased into the trees.

  Moments later, the other Roaming Rangers led them and the horses into the outcroppings near the bottom of the cliff. One laid his hand on Bayzog’s shoulder. His face was long and heavy, more so than the others. Younger too. “Stay close to the steeds. If trouble comes close, they’ll tell you.” He rubbed one under the neck and scanned the surroundings. “They were too far when the creature struck. An error on our part.” He dropped a heavy sack near Brenwar’s feet, smiling. “Perhaps you can use these, dwarf.” He drifted away, set his back to the bottom of the cliff, and loaded his long bow. All the Roaming Rangers Bayzog could see were poised and waiting.

  Brenwar dumped the sack over and picked it up. Dozens of fist-sized round stones tumbled out.

  “Was he being wise with me?”

  Ben chuckled. “It’s better than nothing, and probably more accurate than the rocks in your head.” He nocked his first arrow. “I’m ready to get on with it.”

  Brenwar threw the stones back into the sack and hefted it over his shoulder, saying, “Soon enough, we’ll see who hits the most dragons with what.”

  With a tight grip on the Elderwood Staff, Bayzog tried to look past all the recent horrors he had seen. He was formidable now, and it was not time to get rattled, but he couldn’t shrug off the dread his body felt.

  A spell, perhaps.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught another dragon diving out of the sky. A volley of arrows loosed.

  Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang!

  Pummeled and feathered, the dragon spiraled downward in a tight circle, crashed into the cliff, and tumbled to the surface.

  The other dragons let out a feverish howl, folded their wings, and streaked towards the earth.

  Bayzog summoned his powers.

  Brenwar cocked back his stone-filled hands and roared.

  “Incoming!”

  CHAPTER 18

  Running full speed, Nath traversed the ledges and cut into the grey scaler’s path.

  The black winged dragon’s dark tail whipped fiercely into the rocks. Its eyes glowed with fire. It reared back, hissing. Eyes narrowing, jaws slavering, it clawed its way towards Nath.

  He beckone
d it onward with his claws.

  “Come on then,” Nath said in Dragonese. “I have something for you.”

  Serpentine neck down, horns lowered, it charged.

  Nath snatched it by the horns and shoved its face into the ledge. Jaws snapping, the dragon thrashed and bucked. The awesome strength of its power tried to sling Nath off the cliff. He held on. Dug his clawed toes into the dirt and started shoving it backwards. The man-sized beast roared. Its neck jerked. Its tail flashed over its back and smote Nath on the head. Once. Twice. Fresh blood ran in his eyes.

  “Enough of this!”

  Nath slammed its head into the rock face. Once. Twice. He cranked its horns around and twisted the creature to its back. Its front legs and arms clawed at him like a wild cat’s. Pinning it down, he kept twisting.

  “Yield!” Nath said. “Yield or die!”

  The muscles inside its scaly neck strained and resisted.

  Muscles pumping, Nath twisted harder. Its claws scraped all over his body. Blood dripped in his eyes. It’s me or him. He heaved.

  Crack!

  The grey scaler went limp. The glow in its eyes extinguished.

  Lathered in sweat, he raised his fist into the air and yelled up to the other dragons, “Which one of you traitors is next!”

  He shoved the dragon off the ledge.

  “No mercy for him! No mercy for any of you!”

  Nath had had enough. These dragons were vicious killers. Controlled or not. And he wasn’t about to risk any more of his friends dying if he could help it. He spat blood. Eyed the dragons. Some circled. Some dove into a volley of arrows and stones. Torn, he rushed for the nearest cave, calling for the gnomes.

  ***

  Shum dashed along the narrow ledges, ducking in and out of the small caves. He hollered, whistled, and crept inside, but so far all of the shallow caves were empty. Fleet of foot, he sped to the next cave. A grey scaler dropped out of the sky, hovering in the air by the blustering power of its wings, cutting him off. Swords first, Shum darted in. Elven steel struck in a fury, driving the beast backward out of range.