Erik And The Dragon ( Book 4)

by Sam Ferguson

  “You are going to follow her, right?” Tillamon teased.

  Lepkin’s frown vanished, replaced by a boyish grin that would have seemed out of place had Erik not known how long Lepkin and Dimwater had been in love with each other. The man bounded up the stairs without another word.

  “Come on,” Tillamon said. “We have work to do. Erik will be leaving just as soon as we get their preparations ready.

  *****

  Erik stuffed the last of the bread into his pack and then went out to the stable as quietly as he could. He looked up and down the street in front of Tillamon’s house. During the battle, he had not noticed any drakes in Stonebrook, but now he could see some of the people rushing around to quench fires that had engulfed various buildings. Surely the battle had been much worse than he had seen in the field. That knowledge made his heart heavy, but he could not stop now. He had to follow through with the plan.

  He placed his bag onto the back of a pack horse that Lepkin had purchased during the day. He secured the bag in place and then moved to a horse that was to be for him. He checked the saddle one more time. Lepkin then appeared in the stable with him, saddling a paint horse.

  “Thanks for coming down,” Erik said.

  Lepkin nodded. “I wish we didn’t have to say goodbye this way,” Lepkin said. He stuck his hand out and shook Erik’s hand. “Best of luck,” Lepkin said to Erik. “Remember what we discussed.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Erik said. “I am stronger than most give me credit for.”

  Lepkin smiled and nodded his head. “I will go north, with Tatev and Dimwater. You make your way down to Ten Forts. Be as quick and careful as you can.”

  Erik nodded and jumped up onto his saddle. He tossed a final glance toward Lepkin and then kicked his heels into the horse’s sides, galloping off toward the south. He raced by people carrying buckets of water, or others that pulled carts with wounded men. He didn’t slow down, there was no time. He couldn’t risk being caught. He could only hope that the plan would work.

  As he neared the southern edge of the town, he saw just how lucky they had been. Houses here stood in shambles, many of them already burnt to the ground, others simply collapsed in on themselves. Occasionally there seemed to be a random house that stood intact and untouched despite its neighbors being reduced to a smoldering pile of orange and red coals. Women and children cried in the streets, mourning their losses, but Erik couldn’t stop. He forced himself to push on, without making eye contact with anyone.

  Beyond the town he had to slow his horse in order to avoid trampling dead bodies. Most of them were apparently enemy soldiers, but there were many fallen who wore the Stonebrook yellow and silver uniform as well. The farther he went along the road, the more bodies there seemed to be. Fires flared up in the fields and some of the farms and ranches that used to stand outside the town were now rubble and ash.

  When he saw a young girl, no more than six or seven years old, hunched over the corpse of her father Erik felt his heart sink. He knew he shouldn’t go to her, but how could he not? The raven-haired girl was sobbing loudly and smacking her father’s chest, yelling at him through her tears to wake up. Erik dismounted and went to her.

  “Are you alright?” Erik asked.

  The girl startled and pulled a dagger up from her father’s belt, pointing it at Erik. “Don’t touch me!” she screamed.

  Erik put his hands in the air and dropped to his knees. “I won’t hurt you, I want to help,” he said. “Are you…” his words stopped in his throat. What was he going to ask? Was she alright, was she the only survivor? How could he ask such a young child a thing like that? “Come with me, I will take you into town,” Erik said.

  The little girl angrily wiped tears from her cheeks and held her gaze on Erik. “How do I know I can trust you?” The dagger shook in her trembling hands.

  Erik smiled and removed his sword belt. He slowly backed away and secured it to the pack horse near the bag with food. Then he returned to the girl. “Come on, I won’t hurt you,” he said.

  The girl smiled and stood up. As she stood, her legs lengthened, her shoulders widened, and her back grew taller. A wicked grin replaced her frightened expression and a pair of cold, brown eyes stared at Erik. She flicked her wrist and a pair of blades tore through the air between them in an instant to sink deeply into Erik’s torso. The blades burned as they pierced his body, and he stumbled backward. He barely noticed the long shaft of a blow gun before a sharp sting bit into his neck. His muscles weakened and he fell to his knees.

  “The master was so afraid of you,” the woman said. “Where is The Infinium?” she asked. “Did Tatev take it to the north?”

  “You were watching us?” Erik whispered hoarsely.

  The woman nodded. “I have many tricks,” she said. Her body then changed form again and Patrical stood before Erik. “This might appear a bit more familiar, yes?”

  Erik nodded weakly and grinned slightly. “Do you know what the first rule of hunting dragons is?”

  Patrical’s face stared at him questioningly.

  Erik grinned wider. “A dragon always uses its mind as its primary weapon. If it can sneak, cheat, deceive, or trap you, it will.”

  The assassin snorted haughtily. “Tu’luh has no reason to deceive me. I am a faithful servant, and I will be rewarded for bringing him your heart.”

  “I wasn’t talking about him,” Erik said. A flash of silvery light erupted from the ends of Erik’s fingers, poured out from his mouth and eyes, and blinded the assassin. White fire engulfed Erik and then he shifted into his dragon form. Great talons extended from his hands and feet, massive, leathery wings stretched out from his back and a set of wickedly curved fangs jutted out from his snout. The beast wasted no time in lunging forward. The assassin was bitten in half and then dropped onto the ground to be consumed by blazing hot fire, reducing Tu’luh’s servant to white, putrid ash.

  It was all over in an instant. The dragon form shrank and reduced back, but it was not Erik’s form that emerged. Tillamon stood over the pile of ash, with a hand to his chest, his breathing heavy and slow.

  “Alright Marlin, I think you can go and safely get Erik and the others now,” Tillamon said as he turned away from the ash and looked back to the pack horse. A moment later Marlin appeared atop the pack horse, where he had always been.

  “I am sorry,” Marlin said. “Somehow her magic was strong enough that I could not see beyond the small girl’s aura. This was a powerful enemy.”

  “It’s alright,” Tillamon said in his quickly weakening voice. “I suspected the danger, but sometimes you have to take the hit, if it allows you to score the killing blow.”

  “I have some healing abilities,” Marlin said as he jumped down from the horse.

  Tillamon dropped to his knees, clinging to his cane to keep from falling over in the dirt face first. “No, there is no remedy for the poison in my body. It is my time.”

  Marlin bent down before Tillamon. He took the dart from his neck and sniffed the end. The expression on his face confirmed what Tillamon had suspected. “It is hagroot poison,” Marlin said. “I am so sorry.”

  “Bah,” Tillamon said. “This was the plan. It is as it should be.” Tillamon winced and lurched forward. Marlin caught him in his arms and tried to make him comfortable.

  “I can lessen the pain,” Marlin offered. “If you are truly ready.”

  Tillamon coughed and a spasm arched his back. He could only grunt his ascent.

  Marlin placed a hand over Tillamon’s chest. The prelate sent a pulse of white energy out from his palm to connect with Tillamon’s heart. “It was an honor,” Marlin said. Then he shot a quick dart of yellow into Tillamon’s heart and Tillamon’s energy stopped flowing through his body. Tillamon’s aura faded away into the night, and the body lay limp and lifeless. Marlin struggled to put Tillamon’s body across the horse and then turned the animals back to town. While he was happy to be able to say that Patrical, or whoever it was, had been
defeated and Erik would be safe, he was not looking forward to Lepkin’s reaction when the others returned in the morning to Tillamon’s house as previously agreed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  As Lepkin finished saying goodbye to Tillamon, Erik looked at the newly dug grave and felt his heart sink. He had only known Tillamon for a short while, but the old warrior had left an indelible imprint on him. He could see the same was true for everyone gathered around the grave that morning. Even Tatev was unusually solemn and quiet.

  Master Lepkin was the first to break away from the grave. He saluted his trainer and then marched away without another glance back. Dimwater went with him, her arm neatly wrapped around his right elbow and her head leaning in on his shoulder. Marlin and the servants were next to leave. Then the Stonebrook guardsmen that had gathered also departed. In the end, only Erik and Jaleal stood near the grave.

  The gnome walked over to the fresh dirt and stuck his forefinger down into it. A moment later a beautiful green vine sprouted from the hole, covering the grave in a blanket of purple and red flowers. Then Jaleal nodded and walked on into the house, patting Erik’s arm as he went by.

  Erik stood there a while, looking at the grave and thinking about nothing in particular. He just let his mind wander in whatever direction his thoughts took him, and consequently he let his emotions glide along freely. A pair of tears fell down his cheeks, but he felt no fear. There was no dread of the impending final battle with Tu’luh. He wasn’t sure if he had finally given birth to a previously unknown self-confidence, or if he finally allowed himself to believe in everyone else’s faith in him. In the end, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the fact that he was ready. No more training, no more reading, no more lessons. It was time for action.

  Erik turned his back on the grave and joined with the others inside the house. “It is time to leave,” Erik said definitively.

  Lepkin and Dimwater looked to each other for a moment. Then Lepkin looked to Erik and nodded. “We can make Ten Forts by dawn if we hurry.” Erik nodded and walked out the front of the house toward the stables, leaving the others scrambling to catch up to him before he tore off through the streets at a grueling gallop.

  No one spoke for the entire journey from Stonebrook to Ten Forts. It was as if they could all sense the shift in Erik. Even when the group stopped for meals, no one made a move to suggest food until Erik stopped his horse and broke bread. When he was finished, the others would quickly wrap up their last bites and mount their horses as well. Lepkin and Dimwater still kept on the alert, with Jaleal out in front as the group’s scout, but Erik now set the pace and the mood.

  They rode hard through the night, and with no ill encounters to slow them down, they did in fact reach Ten Forts just a short while after the sun rose above the eastern horizon and bathed the area in its golden light.

  The sight of the fortification was like nothing Erik had ever seen before. Massive, crenellated walls rose sixty feet above the ground, with archers patrolling the tops. Gargantuan, square keeps were positioned every half mile along the wall. Erik could see almost all of the ten keeps for which the border was named. A few to the east were obstructed by the thick forest, but otherwise Erik could see the entire, breathtaking structure.

  It took the group another hour from the time they first spotted Ten Forts to actually reach one of the installations. Per Lepkin’s instruction, Erik and the rest of the heroes rode for the third keep, the fortification that sat over the southern road, and traditionally served as the command post for the area.

  If the structures were impressive from afar, they were absolutely mesmerizing up close. The keep was sealed with not one, but two iron portcullises. A group of ten men stood watch on the northern side, and spoke with Lepkin for a few minutes before agreeing to open the gates and let the group inside. As he passed through, Erik looked up to see countless murder holes above him, with a pair of eyes watching through each one. The inside of the keep was no less intimidating. A massive square building of black stone rose high above the walls, surrounded by stockades and armed guards that made the warriors he had heretofore faced seem like boys playing at swords, rather than seasoned warriors. These men stood proudly, with broad shoulders, thick abdomens, strong arms and massive legs. They seemed to Erik that they were more likely the offspring of giants and humans, rather than any race the Middle Kingdom could have produced naturally.

  Beyond the main building, on the other side of the yard was the outer wall, with three portcullises and at least a score of archers manning the top of the wall. Erik wondered what could be beyond the gates that might have the soldiers so on edge. Had they seen Tu’luh fly this way? Had he already attacked? Or had they seen the drakes from the previous day that assaulted Stonebrook? There was no way for him to know, but it made little difference in the end. The only question he really wanted to answer was where was Tu’luh hiding, and when would they set off after the beast?

  Lepkin dismounted near the main door on the southern side of the command fort. He motioned for Erik to enter the building with him. Erik jumped down from his mount and left the others waiting outside as he and Master Lepkin went in to speak with the commander.

  They were escorted by a bear of a man who called himself Gareth, and claimed to be second in command. He led the duo up two flights of stairs near the doorway and out into a large hall where a thin man sat listening to a much older man talk about orcs. Erik couldn’t hear everything that was said, but he could tell by the older man’s angered tone that the discussion was not going well.

  When the thin man in the chair saw Erik and Lepkin, he dismissed the older man in the middle of his report. The old man fumed as he stormed by them, not even bothering to acknowledge Lepkin, which Erik thought odd considering the usual respect and awe Lepkin seemed to command everywhere he went.

  “What can I do for you?” the thin man said in a youthful, somewhat high pitched voice.

  “I have come to ask for access to the south,” Lepkin said as the two of them stopped beside the table opposite the thin man.

  “I am afraid that is not possible,” the man said with a shake of his head. “You have only just arrived, but I should make you aware that there is an army of orcs camped just outside our walls. I cannot open our gates or I will risk exposing my men.”

  “Orcs?” Lepkin asked. “When did they arrive?”

  “Yesterday,” the man said as he rose from his chair. “They arrived en masse and have since set up some fortifications and are currently making siege equipment, or so my scouts tell me.” The man went to the table and pointed to a scale model of Ten Forts. Erik looked down and saw several hundred red wooden pieces placed on and around the walls. “The red pieces are my men,” the commander said. Erik then saw the black pieces that were placed in front of the wall.

  “Those are the orcs,” Erik guessed.

  The man nodded. “They are the orcs we know of,” he said.

  “They seem to run the entire length of Ten Forts,” Erik said.

  “They have camped along all five miles of our wall. They don’t go beyond that, into Verishtahng, but they don’t leave us any room to flank them either.”

  “Have you thought about attacking them before they can complete their siege gear?” Lepkin asked.

  The man puffed up his chest and his cheeks flushed. “Who are you to question me? I am Eddin Finorel, first born of my father and heir to his governorship.”

  Lepkin leaned in on the table. “You know who I am, and you know I have every right to inquire about your actions here. Do not take such a haughty tone with me, Eddin, or I will send you home to your father.”

  Eddin Finorel bristled and cleared his throat. “The answer still is the same. We cannot open the gate. It is too risky.”

  Erik looked at the man and felt something similar to what he had felt at Patrical’s house. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but this time with Lepkin at his side he decided to press the matter immediately. He summoned his power and discern
ed that Eddin was hiding something. Furthermore, Erik could feel Eddin’s hatred for Lepkin. Something was definitely wrong. “Who commanded Ten Forts before him?” Erik asked Lepkin.

  Lepkin turned to Erik with an arched brow and inquisitive expression on his face. “Mercer took command after Tillamon left. Mercer was third in command while Tillamon was here, I was second.”

  “Are there still men here who would remember you personally?” Erik asked.

  “What difference does it make?” Eddin cut in. “He can’t issue orders that contradict my own.”

  Erik turned back to Eddin, and trusting in his power, pointed a finger at him. “Was Patrical here when Mercer was in charge?”

  Lepkin nodded. “Patrical was here until the accident that injured Mercer, then he retired.”

  Erik watched Eddin carefully. The man’s nose twitched nervously and he bit his lower lip. “I don’t have time for this, I have a war to plan, get out!”

  Erik lunged over the table and landed a solid kick in Eddin’s chest, knocking the thin man backward to the floor. In an instant, Lepkin hopped over the table and was there beside him. Erik drew his sword and summoned the flames. He narrowed his eyes on Eddin and dropped the point of his burning blade to hover inches over the man’s face. “Your father arranged the accident, didn’t he? He arranged it so that you could command Ten Forts so Tu’luh could have easy access to the Middle Kingdom. That’s why the drakes got through in such large numbers last night.”

  “What drakes?” Eddin shouted. “I don’t know what you are talking about!”

  Lepkin looked to Erik and furrowed his brow, but he said nothing. Instead he let Erik take the lead.

  “Tillamon is dead,” Erik said. “Patrical, or whoever it was, killed him last night.”

  “Really, wow, that is… so sad,” Eddin said. His voice cracked and sounded sincere, but Erik could tell the man was lying. He could sense that Eddin was happy about Tillamon’s death.