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

by Craig Halloran

  “Impossible!” Bletver hoisted Ben over his head and tossed him away.

  After sailing through the air for what felt like a long time, Ben crashed head first through his brother’s roof and landed on the table at which they were just talking earlier. He pounced onto the floor. His eyes rolled up. Rods of pain lanced through his eyes, neck, and shoulders. He blinked, and his brother and sister-in-law were there. He tried to move but couldn’t. Hearing the terror erupting all around him, he said, “Quick, find everyone and get them out of here!”

  ***

  Ben’s crack shot couldn’t have come at a better time. The arrow glancing off the iron helmet was the perfect distraction Bayzog needed. With a quick-lipped incantation, the half elf turned loose his mystic juice and stood every one of the warrior’s hairs on end.

  “Gagh!” Clutching his helmet, the fighter practically jumped out of his boots before dropping to his knees on the ground.

  Bayzog wiped the blood from his split lip. He didn’t know what had gotten him, but he summoned more of his power into his legs and marched right at the warrior—who was trying to stand up—and kicked him square in the gut.

  The tremendous impact sent Iron Helmet Man skipping through the mud in a splatter.

  Rain started to come down in heavy drops.

  Bayzog reached down for the Elderwood Staff and picked it up. Its gem-light rekindled. The wizard’s eyes flashed. He began spinning the staff’s head in a tiny circle.

  The warrior’s body spun and flopped in the mud.

  Soaked in the muck, Bayzog used telekinetic power to fling the fighter hard into a stone well in the center of the farm town.

  Mud oozed down the iron helmet and plopped in a puddle. The man hitched his arm over the well’s wall and with a groan got back to his feet. His sword dangled in his grip, tip first in the mud. “Who are you?” he demanded in an angry voice.

  “It’s not a matter of concern,” Bayzog replied. “Drop your weapon.”

  Slowly, the warrior lifted his hands above his head with the sword still firm in his grip.

  “I said, drop it,” Bayzog repeated.

  “I’m not keen on taking orders from half-breeds. If you want it, come and take it.”

  Another round of melee was out of the question. Bayzog knew he’d been a moment from getting pummeled the last time.

  I need to end this standoff, quick.

  He absorbed more power from the staff. Deep inside, he knew he needed to destroy this man, that mercy would be too good. But the man needed to be held accountable, too.

  Try something different.

  He began casting a spell. As soon as he muttered the lengthy words of the incantation, the warrior burst into action.

  Twisting his hips and shoulders with a fierce sword swing, he sent an arc of energy ripping through the village. It tore two homes apart. He swung again, unleashing more of the lethal force, turning more homes into rubble. “This is just the beginning! Nothing will be left standing when I’m finished.”

  Bayzog finished the last syllable of his spell.

  The ground beneath the warrior came to life. The mud oozed up to his waist. He yelled at Bayzog, “What cowardly witchery is this?”

  “Elven,” Bayzog replied.

  The mud and dirt gobbled the man into a sinkhole until he was shoulder deep in the earth. The sword vanished into the mud. The warrior looked like an iron statue covered in a mudslide. Spitting grit from his teeth, he said, “You have won. Now tell me, who are you?”

  Squatting down in front of his foe, the wizard said, “If you insist, I’m Bayzog. And I’m no half-breed. I’m part elven.”

  “Bayzog…” The whites of the man’s eyes behind the eyelets of the helmet showed recognition. He grunted a laugh. “Nath Dragon’s ally. Perfect. And I am Rybek, the brother of the man Nath Dragon murdered.”

  Rising, Bayzog put his staff in Rybek’s face. The staff’s jewel was hot with dangerous light. All of Bayzog’s senses screamed in warning that something even more sinister was afoot. “You know me how? Speak!”

  “Heh heh,” Rybek said. “I’m tired of talking, but maybe the phantom will speak.”

  An unseen force fell from the wet night sky, covering Bayzog in darkness from head to toe. His skin tightened, and all of his sinew seized up like a man struck by lightning. The Elderwood Staff went dark.

  Something was sucking the life out of him, and he couldn’t even scream.

  CHAPTER 23

  Quinley was a disaster when Nath and company arrived late in the day. Half of the small houses built from wood and stone had been torn asunder. The barns had holes in one side and out the other. A carriage was turned upside down. A cow lay on the other side of a broken fence, crushed as if it had been squeezed to death.

  Nath kneeled down and placed his hand on a footprint in the ground. It was humongous, the size of four men. He sniffed his fingers. “This doesn’t smell like any kind of giant I’ve smelled before.”

  Brenwar took a whiff. “Triant.”

  “A what?” Laylana asked.

  “Their mothers are trolls and their fathers are giants. Filthy things, even for giants.” Brenwar scooped up a handful of dirt and rubbed it between his hands. “The vile creature won’t be so hard to find now. The strange thing is, they usually stay underground.”

  “Way underground,” Nath said. He recalled Gorlee recounting his imprisonment in the city of Narnum and how he was held in a place called the Deep by a similar creature named Bletver. He’d shared it with Brenwar.

  It has to be a coincidence.

  “Where are all the people?” Sasha asked.

  Glancing around, Nath said, “I’m not sure that I want to know.” The sound of voices softly singing caught his ear, and he turned. Facing the rolling hills just beyond the village, he recalled a graveyard he’d passed through when he’d met Ben long ago. Balzurth was already heading in that direction. He and the others followed.

  A ceremony was taking place inside a cemetery that was hundreds of years old. Most of the tombstones were covered in moss and overcome by grass. A pair of stonemasons chiseled on a new flat rock while people held hands and sang. There was a black wagon pulled up to the cemetery entrance, which was marked by a modest iron archway. Bodies wrapped up in burlap bags lay in the back of the wagon, and two men loaded one body off and carried it to a grave in the ground and lowered it inside.

  Keeping their distance, Nath felt Sasha wrap her arms around his and hang on as if she was about to fall. “I’m so sick of all this death. Innocent people die for nothing. My blood boils.”

  Her words brought Nath some comfort. The woman had much passion within, and it was good to see it back. The warmth of her body was comforting too. He hated to imagine the day that would come when Sasha’s body turned cold. Thanks to his father, she had much life to live yet.

  The citizens of Quinley had a humble ceremony. They prayed over the graves. They sang as the shovels dug in the dirt and buried their loved ones in Nalzambor’s soft earth. Once the last grave was covered, each person lit a candle. One by one, they placed the candles on a stand made from stone until they all burned as one. There were many, too many.

  Nath wondered if two of those candles were for Ben and Bayzog. It just didn’t seem possible.

  The long-faced people of Quinley dispersed back toward their fallen town. Women clung tight to their children. Men wore slings and other bloody bandages. One fellow was being pushed uphill in a cart. His legs were missing. Hardly any of the people gave Nath or his friends a single glance when they walked by. They’d seen the worst. Now they feared nothing.

  One of the last people up the hill was a man in trousers and a woven canvas shirt. He was tall and lanky and looked like Ben but older. Tears had long dried on his cheeks that had cleaned some of the dirt from his face. He said to Nath, “They said you would come. I just didn’t think it would be so soon.”

  Nath’s chest tightened. “Pardon,” he said. Taking the moment into co
nsideration, he didn’t want to just jump in and ask about Ben and Bayzog. “Er…I’m sorry for your losses, I’m—”

  “I know. You’re Nath Dragon. My little brother Ben has talked my ears off about you.” He extended his hand. “I’m Jad. It’s good to meet you. All of you. I just wish it was under better circumstances.” The man’s eyes welled up with water. Wet sobs and tremors shook his body. “I’m sorry. My wife is gone. Crushed.” He glanced back down the hill at the cemetery. “Those aren’t even all the bodies we need to bury.”

  Nath caught the sagging man by the waist. Sasha assisted. Together, they walked Jad back into town and sat him down on some busted boards and stones that had been set up like a bench.

  Hands on his knees and still crying, Jad said, “Ben and the elf, Bayzog—they took them. Said if you came around to let you know they have them.” He blew his nose in a rag. “I don’t have any other family left. Just Ben.”

  Sasha intervened. She took the man’s hand and said, “Who took them, Jad?”

  “Their names were Rybek and Bletver.” He looked up at Nath. “The one, Rybek, said you’d know him. He said to come alone if you want Ben and Bayzog to live.”

  “That won’t happen,” Sasha said. She took Nath by the wrist. “You aren’t going anywhere without me.”

  “Or me,” Brenwar added.

  Even though Nath felt that Jad was being truthful, he wasn’t certain about his story. “How could Rybek possibly know I would come here? What did he say?”

  Sniffling, Jad said, “He said you’d probably ask that because you aren’t as stupid as you are arrogant. But he wanted me to let you know that it was a hunch is all. He figured you’d come across his handiwork at some point. He said that seeing how he has your friends, he’ll have plenty of time to play with them. If he didn’t get word of you coming, or when his patience ran out, he’d just kill them and move on. He doesn’t seem like the patient kind.”

  Sasha’s fists balled up at her sides. “I’m not the patient kind, either. I’m going to find this scoundrel and put an end to him. All of them!”

  Jad’s eyes widened.

  Nath laid a soft hand on her shoulder and nudged her back. “That’s what we all want, but I’ve crossed Rybek before. He’s truly dangerous, as you can see. What else did he say, Jad?”

  Jab blew his nose again. “He said he’d be at the Temple of Spirals. I’ve never heard of it.”

  “If they’ve only been gone a couple of days, I’d say they just made it there by now,” Nath said to Brenwar.

  “Where is this Temple of Spirals?” Laylana asked.

  “It’s south of here, nuzzled between the Shale Hills and the Ruins of Barnabus.” Nath noticed that Balzurth was no longer there. He’d forgotten that his father actually had been Barnabus to begin with, the one who as a man had slain black dragons. Perhaps the ruins had been named after him before his name had been corrupted by the foul acolytes and clerics that twisted it into a dragon-hating abomination. “Where’s my father?”

  Everyone looked. It didn’t take long to find him. Balzurth was carrying two heavy wooden beams on his shoulders. He was following a pair of villagers, who were carrying one of the support beams together. Balzurth yelled back at Nath, “I heard you. Work now. Plan later.”

  “I’m not waiting,” Sasha insisted. “If you know where it is, we go now.” She turned her attention back to Jad. “What condition was Bayzog in?”

  “I only got a glimpse, but his skin was shriveled and his hair white. It was as if he’d aged decades in moments. He barely moved, but he breathed.” Jad let out a ragged sigh. “That giant thing carried them off on its shoulder. A nasty thing. It’s what killed my wife.” His head lowered.

  Sasha pressed him. “Know how sorry my heart is for all this tragedy, but I must ask. Did they leave anything behind? A staff, perhaps?”

  Jad shook his head, “No, it was taken.” He perked up, shoulders back. “Ben told me to take these. He said if you came, you’d know what to do with them.” He reached behind his back and produced the leather-and-chain gauntlets. “I fashioned it as a keepsake of him. There is a chest back in the stables too.” He glanced at Brenwar. “It has a face that looks like you.”

  Nath handed the gauntlets to Brenwar.

  Brenwar slid them onto his meaty hand and his skeleton hand and punched the first into the latter with a loud smack. “Let’s go find that triant.”

  Nath held his tongue. Rybek had made it clear that Nath was to come alone. The last thing Nath wanted to do was jeopardize Ben and Bayzog. “Like my father says, we need a plan. At least we know what we’re up against.”

  “A triant and a man you defeated before,” Brenwar said. He twirled Mortuun around like a stick. A gleam was in his eyes. “I can handle the triant. You know that. This Rybek, I’m sure you’ll see to it he has another bad day. Perhaps his last day.”

  “I wish I could come with you to help,” Jad said. He stood up. “But I’m a farmer, not a fighter. My village needs me now, but please, bring Ben back like you always do, Dragon. Alive and as talkative about you as ever.”

  “I will.”

  “Oh, and one more thing I forgot to mention. Come, you must see.”

  They all followed Jad over to one of the barnyards, where no more animals were alive. Inside the barn was a figure of a man with his clothes hanging off of him. He was nothing but flakes and withered skin layering his bones. His fingers were outstretched, and his mouth hung open in agony.

  “I don’t know what did this, and he wasn’t the only one. The others perished in the wind.”

  When Nath gave the figure a light touch fingertip to fingertip, the dead man’s hand crumbled.

  “But I can tell you this,” said Jad. “He used to be the fattest man in the village.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Rerry had completely lost track of time, but hanging by his arms was more agonizing by the minute. Spikes of pain lanced through his back, waking him up from what mild slumber he was able to steal between gasps of suffering. He stretched out his tongue, straining to turn and sate his horrible thirst with the water that trickled down the wall. The corners of his mouth burned from the dehydration that had set in.

  If I feel this bad, I can’t imagine how my brother feels.

  He had been calling to his brother, Samaz, with no response for what had seemed to be days. His brother quavered and coughed. It was the only sign of life in him. As hard as it had been for Rerry to get along with his brother in the past, he’d now come to regret every bit of their bickering. His brother had been good to him, but Rerry had been nothing but ornery toward him. Samaz was an odd and quite deep thinker. He didn’t act out, and he talked very little. There was no reason to punish him for it. He and Samaz were just different.

  “Samaz, if we ever make it out of this, I hope you’ll forgive me. You’re a good brother. I should have treated you better.”

  Samaz shivered in his shackles.

  “Lords of Knollwood, don’t die on me, Samaz. Don’t die.”

  Something brushed under Rerry’s bare toes. Feet dancing in his chains, he said, “Eep! What was that?” Straining, he tried to get a look at what was under him. Chin buried in his chest, he got a gander at something that shimmered like the scales of a fish and disappeared. “Samaz! Samaz! Wake up! Something’s in here with us!” Head pounding, Rerry jerked at his chains.

  Something was crawling up his leg.

  “Scar! Scar! Where are you, Scar?” Rerry hollered for the jailer.

  Rerry had once prided himself on not being scared of anything, but with the unknown, that had changed. He’d heard tales about what huge bugs had done to people. There were some that could poison or paralyze. They’d come in the thousands, devouring man and elf tiny bit by tiny bit.

  “Samaz, do something!”

  Tiny prongs dug into his legs and inched toward his body.

  “Oh, I don’t want to die like this. I’m a sword fighter. I deserve a better death.” Rerry flaile
d his arms and legs against the chains. “Get off me, you cowardly vermin! Get off!”

  Something that felt like sharp, tiny fingers dug into his toes and crept up his other leg.

  “No! No! No!” Rerry cast his gaze from side to side, straining to see the unseen enemy.

  A fierce prick stabbed into his knee.

  “Aaaah!”

  Samaz sputtered. His head lifted and turned toward Rerry. In a weak voice, he said, “Will you quit screaming? You’re giving me a headache.”

  Voice echoing in the prison chamber, Rerry shouted, “Samaz! Samaz! You wake!”

  “The dead have wakened. Put a pipe in it, won’t you?”

  “What?” Rerry exclaimed. “Can’t you see I’m being devoured?”

  Samaz’s face barely showed in the weakening torchlight. He squinted at Rerry. “I can barely see anything—it’s too dark—but I can assure you I hear everything.”

  “Ow!” Rerry cried out. Moisture his dehydrated self would have sworn moments ago that he couldn’t possibly contain beaded his forehead and started to drip. Rattling his chains, he tried to lick the sweat from the tip of his nose. “Clearly not! I’ve been trying to wake you for days.”

  “I heard what you said. You said you were sorry,” Samaz replied.

  “You’re delusional!”

  “You’re the one who thinks something’s crawling up his body,” Samaz retorted. “I don’t see any—oh!”

  “What?” Rerry’s cracked voice was shrill. “What is it?”

  “You seem to have something crawling up your pants leg.”

  “I know that! Do something!”

  Samaz replied in his usual matter-of-fact tone. “I can’t. My hands are tied.”

  Rerry jerked at the chains. “And you wonder why you drive me out of my skull, you emotionless sack of human parts and elven bones.”

  “I never wonder.”

  Veins bulging in his neck, Rerry retorted, “I’m not sorry for anything, and I hope you never forgive me for anything I’ve done. Ow!” He started to whine. “Oh, ho ho, will you do something, brother of mine?”