Eyes of the Dragon (The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 4) (Tail of the Dragon)

by Craig Halloran

  “There are so many!” Laylana coughed, and tears from the smoke were streaming down her pretty face.

  Nath sensed her strength was beginning to wane. Blood pumping, he redoubled his efforts and chopped deeper into one wurmer after the other, killing them instantly. Like an angry flock of hissing birds, the wurmers kept appearing. It was only a matter of time before the monsters consumed them. “Guzan! Where are they all coming from?”

  All around him, the forest was blazing. Crashes and cries of alarm erupted from the haze. Brenwar was letting out battle cries, and Balzurth blurted out boasts. Giants growled and howled. A huge hunk of rock soared through the air and crashed into the branches behind Nath’s head.

  Nath screamed out, “Father, you’re setting the entire forest on fire!”

  Out of nowhere, a giant backpedaled through the smoke and smashed into the trees. A flaming axe burned in its forehead.

  Balzurth spurted out of the chaos with havoc in his eyes. He stormed toward Nath and grabbed two wurmers by their tails. With a tremendous heave, he slung them into the smoke and out of sight. “These nasty insects are many!”

  Revved up in the presence of his father, Nath unleashed everything he had left. Fang splintered scales and skulls. The nasty, inky blood of the wurmers burned through his scales into his flesh, but his battle-raged mind didn’t care. With one sweeping swat after another, he poured it on until all of the wurmers were dead. Finally, chest heaving and fighting for breath, Nath caught Laylana by the wrist and dragged her out of the forest.

  Brenwar stood several dozen yards outside of the forest’s edge, patting out the flame that was burning a hole in his beard. “Blasted giants!”

  Nath heard a gusty laugh coming from behind him, outside of the flames.

  “My, that was fun! Was it not, Son? We need to seek these giants out and do that again.”

  Coughing, Laylana replied, “I’m ready.”

  “You were a bit careless, Father. The smoke could have suffocated us in there,” Nath said, watching the flames rise into the night sky. He stuck Fang in the ground. “Not everyone is accustomed to smoke for breath.”

  “Noted,” Balzurth said. The glow in his eyes started to dim. “I suppose I did get carried away, but this body wants to work without the mind. It’s so lively.” He approached Laylana and took her by the hand. “Are you all right, my sweet elven lady?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Balzurth patted her hand. “I’m sorry for my carelessness. I hope you’ll forgive me.”

  “Most certainly,” she said. “No regrets on my end. You men certainly know how to show an elf a good time.”

  “You mean dragons,” Balzurth said.

  “And dwarves,” Brenwar added.

  “Of course,” she said, wiping her hair from her eyes.

  “Well, if someone is looking for us, they shouldn’t have much trouble finding us now,” Nath said. “And it would not surprise me one little bit if there were many enemies nearby beyond that blaze. I don’t suppose the fire will burn itself out anytime soon. It’s a bit of a shame.”

  “Oh, I can take care of that.” Balzurth reached over and grabbed Fang by the hilt, pulling him free of the ground. The wondrous blade twinkled with bluish light. Balzurth marched into the flaming forest and stabbed a tree.

  Nath’s jaw dropped.

  Ice spread from the tip of Fang’s blade. With crackling movement, the veil of ice covered the ground and raced up the trunks and limbs of the trees. A sizzling hiss followed as the flames were extinguished one by one, leaving a twinkling, white-blue ice tree city shimmering in the moonlight.

  “Whoa,” Laylana said, “I am without words.”

  Hefting Fang over his shoulder, Balzurth walked over and offered the sword to Nath. “Fang is quite something, isn’t he?”

  Taking the sword in hand, Nath replied, “How did you get him to do that?”

  “I just asked Fang to do what I created him to do, and he did it. Next time there’s a fire, you might want to give it a try.”

  Nath stood there gawping while Balzurth pivoted around on his foot and faced north toward Quintuklen, saying to Brenwar, “Is it time to resume our walk again?”

  Slinging Mortuun over his shoulder, Brenwar said, “After you.”

  Nath and Laylana tagged along behind through the chill wind of the night, silent for several miles.

  Crossing over the rocks that made a path over a babbling brook, she eyed Nath and said, “You look troubled. It’s disturbing. What’s wrong?”

  “So many things are going on that I don’t know where to start. Those giants came out of nowhere, not to mention the wurmers. I don’t know that we can travel a day without fighting something.” He reached out his hand to help Laylana over a fallen tree. “It’s depressing, really. I can’t help but wonder how this few of us can defeat so many.”

  “Oh, I don’t think that’s the only thing bothering you. You have no fear of these hordes of dangers. I think it’s your father who’s getting to you.” She twisted her hair around her finger. “He’s so confident and wily. And the things he does are so amazing.”

  “Yes, and I should be able to do those things too, but I can’t. It’s frustrating.”

  “Give it time,” she said, “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  “That’s the problem. I don’t think there is much time left to figure it out. I just hope Quintuklen still stands by the time we get there. I swear I feel as if all of Nalzambor has gone mad.” Sidestepping a rock, he bumped into her shoulder, almost knocking her over. “Sorry.”

  She ran her fingers down his arm and replied, “It’s quite all right, Nath.”

  The twinkle in her eye made him think of Selene.

  Sultans of Sulfur. I wonder how she’s doing.

  Nath picked up the pace, catching up with Brenwar and Balzurth. “You two are doing a good job steering clear of any trouble.”

  “We hope not,” Balzurth said. “This is the most fun I’ve had in centuries.”

  “I don’t recall saving Nalzambor being very fun the last time,” Nath said.

  “Oh, it’s all about making the most of the journey, Nath,” said Balzurth. “Being in the company of your friends when the stakes are so high that you can barely sleep at night. Ah… Nothing worth fighting for is ever easy. Eh, Brenwar?”

  Combing his fingers through his beard, Brenwar replied, “I’ve never had fun doing anything easy.”

  “Well said, well said, my stumpy little comrade.” Turning around to walk backward, Balzurth said to Nath, “I’m glad you joined us. Now put a smile on that grim face of yours. There’s no apparent danger at the moment, and we live, we breathe, we’ll fight again.”

  Nath didn’t get caught up in the high spirits of the others. He wasn’t used to seeing his father this way—jolly, laughing, or even smiling. Sure, there had been some frivolous times when he was younger, but for at least the past hundred years, Balzurth had been … serious. Downright stern, even. And now the dragon-turned-man had become something else. If Nath didn’t know better, he’d swear that some dangerous spirit had entered his father.

  He couldn’t possibly be this happy.

  Finally, Nath gave in. “Fine, Father, but will you please be more mindful of the mortal company we are in?”

  “Certainly, Son, certainly, but I heard you clearly the first time. No, I think Laylana will do just fine.”

  Onward they went, laughing, joking, and carrying on as if nothing could stop them.

  CHAPTER 12

  Ben sat atop his horse, looking back at Quintuklen. The men worked day and night fortifying the mighty human city that had been turned to rubble by the Clerics of Barnabus not so long ago. Now new fortifications and buildings began to rise toward the sky again, thanks to the help of the dwarves. In each high tower were soldiers manning a ballista to fend off any flying terrors.

  He filled his chest with air, sucking in the morning mist that covered the grasses and daisies. He was proud
of these people. Even in the face of such adversity, they never gave up. He was proud to be among them. In the distance, stout men carried stones up ladders and set them down on scaffolding. They’d learned much from the dwarves and the dwarves some things from them. It was a joy to see them working together. It reminded him of Dragon and Brenwar. It seemed so long since he’d heard from them.

  Considering the journey ahead, Ben thought to himself, I wonder what they’re doing now. Noting the rising sun warming his face, another thought came to mind.

  Bayzog ought to be out here by now.

  The part-elven wizard had said he’d need ample time to prepare himself for the journey ahead. The violet-eyed scholar had seemed a bit rattled when Ben left him last night to be by himself. Leaving Sasha wouldn’t be easy, but it was the right thing.

  Come on, wizard. I’m itching to get going.

  Ben unslung his bow from his back. He ran his fingers up and down the string. It was a fine bow, but nothing like Akron. His quiver of arrows rattled when he shifted in the saddle. There was a distinct sound to the arrows he shot. They were made from ash wood and tipped with tempered steel. He slipped an arrow out and nocked it on the bowstring. The thick callouses between the joints of his fingers were as hard as ever. He pulled the string back, aimed for a distant dogwood tree, and let the arrow fly. The arrow sailed high in the air and missed the mark by ten feet.

  A little late to practice now.

  He slung the bow back over his shoulder, longing for the snap-clatch-snap sound of Akron. There was already sweat forming on his brow, and his butt felt a little sore in the saddle.

  Please don’t tell me I’m too old for this, but I’ve barely made it out of the city.

  Finally, Ben saw Bayzog come out through the outermost of the city’s rebuilt white catacomb walls.

  The half-elf wizard’s expression was grim, but it perked up a bit upon seeing Ben. Riding up to the veteran warrior, he said, “Sorry for the delay, but I have something for you.” He patted the bulging blanket behind his paint horse’s saddle. “Take it. We will need it.”

  Ben lifted the blanket, and his eyes popped wide open. With astonishment, he said to Bayzog, “This is Brenwar’s chest!”

  “Indeed.”

  “Can we even open it?”

  “See for yourself. I don’t think it cares for elves. If you can’t open it, I’m leaving it.”

  “No, no, no.” Ben couldn’t hide the thrill in his voice. He loved magic. It fascinated him, and he regretted not having an opportunity to experiment with the chest before. He took the strongbox by the outer handles and lifted it into his lap. “My, it’s a lot lighter than it looks.”

  “Dwarves make everything appear stronger than it is,” Bayzog said.

  Ben’s fingers searched the whole chest for a latch of some kind, but the area around the lid was almost seamless. “Bayzog, I can’t open this up.”

  Bayzog stuck his staff out and poked the front of the box with the end.

  Ben took a second look and discovered the face of a dwarf gilded in iron, flush on the front of the chest. It looked vaguely like Brenwar.

  Raising his chin and wrinkling his brow, Bayzog said, “Stick your finger in the dwarf’s mouth, and hope it doesn’t bite.”

  Studying the gilded face and looking at his finger, Ben said, “You’d think there would be latches or something.”

  “Get on with it,” Bayzog said with an arched brow.

  Heart pumping in his ears, Ben poked the dwarf in the mouth.

  Clatch.

  The chest’s lid popped up a hair, and a golden light peeked out.

  “It opens!” With both hands, Ben started to lift the lid.

  Bayzog reached over and closed it back. “It works. Good. Now let’s get moving.”

  “No offense, Bayzog, but I’m going to take a look.”

  “Now is not the place or the time.” Bayzog pointed the Elderwood Staff south. “Onward.”

  “Am I leading, or are you?”

  “You’re the one trained by the best tracker in the land. I trust your instincts.”

  Securing the strongbox on his horse, Ben tied it down and said, “Fine, but the next time we stop, I’m taking a longer look in this chest.”

  CHAPTER 13

  Bletver the triant tore the roof off a shed. A man shielded a woman inside. In a grisly but polite voice, Bletver said to them, “Have you seen a man with flame-red hair?”

  The woman screamed, and the man fought to cover her mouth with his hands. He kept saying, “No, no, no, we haven’t seen anyone like that!”

  “Are you certain of that?” Bletver said, showing off his rows of teeth.

  “I wouldn’t lie! I wouldn’t lie!” the man yelled back.

  “Well, there’s no reason to yell at me. It’s impolite. After all, I am a guest in your quaint little farm town.” Bletver licked his lips. “The smell of livestock is simply delightful. You know, I’ve been a thousand feet deep in a hole. I’d completely forgotten how salivating this world can be.” He dipped his monstrous head deeper into the shed.

  The man covered his face and gagged.

  “Uh, are you absolutely, positively certain you have not seen a man with golden eyes and flame-red hair?”

  “No, no, no,” the man said. “I swear it on my life.”

  Bletver gave them a nod. “And I believe you. Thank you.” He pushed the shed, collapsing it under his power and crushing the people within. He stepped on top of it and hopped on it a few times. The wood planks snapped under his weight, and that wasn’t all that gave. The man’s hand jutted between the boards and went still. Bletver dusted his hands off and eyed the goats that were crying behind the distant fence. “Ah, it’s time to dine.”

  Taking his time to cross through the small farm village, he noted the withered husks of the once-vibrant bodies of people who had once nourished their surroundings for a hard but simple living. Faces of men, women, and children were frozen in horror. Their fragile lives had been sucked from the very marrow of their bones.

  Nearby, the phantom swallowed up a man in the black shadows of his being. The blood quickly drained from the choking man’s face. He dropped to his knees, frozen and lich-like, and then finally dead. The phantom’s glowing eyes grazed over Bletver, then it passed through the stone walls of a well and moved toward the hidden voices that sobbed in terror.

  “Bletver!” said a stern voice.

  The triant turned.

  Rybek had two well-knit men by their arms and was dragging them face first over the dirt roads like children. The men were busted up, and their spirits were broken. They didn’t even cry out when they saw Bletver.

  “What do you want me to do with them?” the triant said. “Crush them? Eat them?” He hitched his head over toward the fence that wrapped around the barn. “I’m thinking those sheep would be more succulent. These people tend to be a bit chewy.”

  One of the men gulped. His feet dug into the ground as he tried to pull free of Rybek’s iron grip.

  Rybek kicked the man in the ribs. “Be still.” Drawing his dagger, he looked up at Bletver. “If you don’t want to eat them, I’ll kill them myself.”

  Lifting up his foot, Bletver stomped the life out of the nearest one. “Just because I don’t want to eat them doesn’t mean I don’t want to kill them. They’re humans. I can’t stand them.”

  Rybek stabbed the second man in the heart, cleaned the steel on the man’s shirt, and eased the blade back into its scabbard.

  With a disapproving look, Bletver said, “Are we keeping score on the dead? Because I just added two other bodies over there. That gives me a count of ten—no, eleven, counting this one.”

  “Well, I’m not chasing down everyone that fled just to catch up. Besides, the phantom has doubled up on the both of us.” Rybek picked up a stone from the ground. He chucked it at a husk of a woman on her knees clutching a bucket. His aim was true. The rock smote her in the face, and her body crumbled into a billow of smoke and
a pile of ash.

  “Humph, that was mildly amusing.” Bletver sauntered over to a nearby fence post and yanked it one-handed out of the ground. He hurled it into a pair of phantom-struck bodies and turned them into a puff of smoke. “Not as thrilling as it looked. So you don’t want to kill them all? I can smell their fear-filled sweat, you know.”

  “No,” Rybek said. “Let them spread the news of our terror. It should draw out heroes like Nath Dragon. Eventually someone will show up. Someone that knows something will come. They always do, and we’ll be waiting.”

  “Seems like an odd way to get results.” Bletver gave a nod and headed for the barn. “If you’ll excuse me, dinner is calling.”

  ***

  Rybek watched Bletver step over the barnyard fence, scoop up a whining goat, and devour it down in crunching chomps.

  With a bitter expression on his face, Bletver tapped his chest with his fist and let out a disturbing belch.

  Bllaaat!

  “My, pardon me.” Winking at Rybek, Bletver reached down and scooped up a sheep. Jaws wide, he stuffed the sheep into his mouth like a pillow into a case and swallowed it whole. “Mmmm…that’s better.”

  Rybek’s stomach gurgled. The thought of eating live flesh and bones wasn’t something that sat well with him. He was human, after all, just evil to the core. Still, he wondered why the goat had cried out and the sheep hadn’t. He’d noted that before in his conquests, where in some cases even people didn’t have the slightest fear of their eminent death. Much like the sheep, they faced their fate with dumbfounded innocence. With life being so fragile, he wouldn’t have thought they’d be so silent when it was about to end.

  Venturing out of the town, he noted the crows circling overhead. The dead in the dusty streets were ripe for plucking. Grim faced, he set his sights on another conquest. Eventually, someone would stand up and face him, and his hope was that it would be Nath Dragon. He fingered the pouch that held the amulet he’d been given to capture Nath Dragon. The soft leather was cold and stiff to the touch. Rolling his stiffening fingers, he lowered them to the pommel of his sword. The blade’s metal offered another reassuring feeling.