Deadly_The Odyssey of Nath Dragon

by Craig Halloran

  CHAPTER 22

  Hacksaw drew Green Tongue. “How far away?”

  The elf whispered back in Maefon’s ear. She said, “They are coming up the back side of the hill. Minutes away.”

  Hacksaw dumped the ashes from his pipe and put it away. “Is there some reason why these elves can’t speak out loud instead of going through you or Darkken? It’s getting aggravating.”

  Maefon fired back at Hacksaw, “It is their way. And you might not like what they have to say.”

  Hacksaw narrowed an eye. “And why would that be?”

  “I don’t think they like your smoking.”

  “What?”

  “Enough,” Nath said, moving toward the forest line. “We need to move.”

  “There’s no way to go, aside from down the face of this hill. Those watchtowers will catch us there,” Hacksaw said. “But I don’t think those slaver lords own this hillside. Could be that we’re just passing by.”

  “Elves and orcs are mortal enemies,” Maefon said, watching all six Brothers of the Wind fan out along the forest line and face away. Each of them unslung their short bows and notched an arrow along the string. “There will be no peaceful conversation between us.”

  “Then hide. You elves are good at that, aren’t you?” Hacksaw replied.

  “It’s not a bad idea,” Nath suggested.

  The elf whispered in Maefon’s ear again. “They have dogs,” she said. “They’ll sniff you out, but the Brothers of the Wind have the ability to throw their scent.”

  “Of course they do,” Hacksaw replied. “Look, you hide, all of you. I’ll talk. The orcs, though orcs, don’t have anything on me. I’ve got my spear. I’ll just tell them I’m hunting game.”

  “I’ll stay as well,” Nath replied.

  “Nath, don’t be foolish. They will recognize you,” she said.

  “I suppose they might, but I’m not leaving my friend’s side. I’ll take the chance that they don’t remember my face.”

  “You are being foolish!” Maefon said. “You put all we have worked for in jeopardy. Let Hacksaw work with his idea. We will be close by if he needs us.” She stretched her hand out to Nath. “You must come, quick.”

  “I don’t know. They might not know me if I keep my head down.”

  With reddening cheeks, she said, “Are you being serious? No one lays their eyes on you and forgets you! Hacksaw knows what is best. Trust him. Come, now!”

  “She makes a valid point, Nath. You should go,” Hacksaw replied.

  “I’m big. I can’t hide any better than you can,” he said to Hacksaw. “No, I’m staying. I’ll cover underneath my traveling cloak and pretend I’m sick or something.”

  “You are being preposterous,” she said, fishing out the potion vial of polymorph from her clothing. “Take what is left of this. Hopefully, it will last you long enough that you don’t get killed.” She threw it at him.

  Nath plucked it out of the air. “Thanks. And do me a favor, leave me a bow and quiver. Can’t hunt without that.”

  The elf that did all of the speaking to Maefon tossed his bow and quiver at Nath’s feet.

  “Let’s go,” Maefon ordered the brothers. All at once the elves ducked underneath the branches and disappeared into the woods.

  Nath drank down the potion. As he did so, Hacksaw knocked on his breastplate. “They’ll know that sign on your chest. It’s hot, but you best cover up.”

  “Agreed,” he said, donning the cloak while the potion’s syrup trickled down his throat. “It has a bit of cinnamon in the flavor and something not so pleasant.” His face soured. “What was that flavor?”

  “I don’t know, but you best figure out what you want to turn into before you look just as you are.”

  “What should I do, look like you? Ha, we could be twins.”

  “I suggest something a little more to their liking, such as a half orc. Can you pull that off?”

  “We’ll see.” Nath had seen his fair share of half orcs inside the cedar walls of Slaver Town. He focused on the one most familiar. The potion syrup worked its way down into his belly. Suddenly, his skin flexed and stretched.

  Hacksaw’s lips twisted. His expression soured. “Ew. I’ve never seen loose hairs and warts pop out of a face like that before. It’s gross.”

  Nath touched his face. He could feel hard little bumps and coarse hairs that sprouted up on his skin. “Ugh… this better wear off.”

  The branches rustled in the woods. Dogs started barking loudly. They burst out of the woodland and rushed at Nath and Hacksaw. They stopped several feet away, heads low, hackles raised, and barking. They were big beasts, part wolf and part hound. Four riders on horses, all full-blooded orcs dressed in chainmail armor covered with the uniform black-leather tunics of the slavers, pushed through the trees out into the open. A smell came with them.

  Nath’s nose crinkled.

  Hacksaw said, “Shew. I’m not sure if it’s the dogs or the orcs.”

  “I’m certain it’s the orcs,” Nath replied.

  Without a word, fingers still clutching the reins, the slavers formed a ring around Nath and Hacksaw. Another rider came out of the woodland. He was all orc with a big belly that covered the saddle horn and a head as round and lumpy as a pumpkin. Long, tangled hair spread out over his shoulders like a waterfall. His face and skin were ruddy and greasy. A sleeve of spears hung from his saddle, and a battle axe hung on the other side. He finished the circle, glowering at Nath with beady yellow eyes. He looked at Hacksaw then back at Nath. Flies buzzed around him. In Common, he said, “Silence, mutts!”

  The dogs stopped barking and sat down.

  He pulled a spear from the sleeve. The other orcs did the same. Clasping his hairy fingers around the shaft, he pointed the tip right at Hacksaw. “I am Ornthall, squad master of Slaver Town. Who in the realm are you, half-breed?”

  CHAPTER 23

  Hacksaw started to speak, but Nath cut him off. After all, Ornthall’ s attention was directed at him. In his best gravelly voice, Nath replied, “We are hunters, squad master. I am called Thantis, and this is my helper.”

  “You trespass on the domain of Slaver Town,” Ornthall said. “Many trespassers have been sentenced to days of hard labor, and in most cases, they don’t end. Some die in the quarries, and others on the rack. Only a fool comes so close to the circle of cedars.”

  Hunched over a bit and head tilted to the side, Nath said, “I never claimed to be so smart, but I am a good hunter. There is a red-tailed stag, stands as high as your horse, and we’ve chased him to here from halfway to Advent.”

  “Aye,” Hacksaw agreed. “Once on the trail of a great hunt, there cannot be any turning away. We must finish the—”

  “Human, if you don’t want your tongue cut out, then don’t speak another word. I detest the pink skins as much as dwarves and elves.” Ornthall let out a loud belch. “The mere sight of you upsets my stomach. You make me retch.” He turned his eyes on Nath. “And you, half-breed, do you prefer the company of men or orcs?”

  “I-uh, no, certainly not, but sadly, I’m not always welcome by my kind.” Nath opened his coarse hands and shrugged. “He’s a fair hunter.”

  “And I’m a fair hunter as well, and I don’t have any recollection of red-tail stags that roam the local woodland. You are full of elk dung!” He poked a spear at Nath’s chest. “Tell the truth or I’ll put this spear through one ear hole and out of the other.”

  Nath fought the urge to rip Fang out of his scabbard and cut the orc out of his saddle, but the great blade lay aside in the grass.

  “Please, give me a moment to explain, great squad master,” Hacksaw said in a pleading voice. “We mean no deception.”

  “You admit deceit,” Ornthall said.

  “We hope that what we seek is a red tail, but in truth, we’ve not seen it, yet we search. Its skin and horns would fetch a fine price, and we have lofty goals,” Hacksaw admitted. “In truth, we wander and have not been so far south before. Eh, we
are fools.”

  “All that are not Orcen are fools. I’ve known this since before my fires were born, fool,” Ornthall said. He lifted his spear upright. “I patrol the province. I know names and faces. Many hunt, most we run off and threaten. You should have known not to hunt so close to here. Slaver Town is a place of business, only friendly to pockets filled with gold.”

  Nath swallowed. “We will move along at a hasty pace if you will show mercy on us.”

  “Mercy is for the weak.” Ornthall leaned back. “But I will ask, have you seen any lone wolves traipsing through the lowlands or hills?”

  Nath and Hacksaw exchanged a glance. “No one in particular stands out,” Nath replied. “Is there someone that you are searching for? A runaway slave, perhaps?”

  “One is long missing. A price is on his head. Perhaps you should hunt for that. Any information would be helpful. He is well built, much like you.” Ornthall pointed at Nath. “Drop your hood, half-breed. I need a clear look at your face, so I don’t forget you. The pink skin I hope to forget. His bearded face is hideous.”

  Touching his face with his thumb as he lowered the hood, Nath felt the ruggedness of his skin. Thank goodness. He looked up at Ornthall and showed a smile of broken teeth.

  “You have strange hair and eyes,” Ornthall said, tilting his head to the side. “Never seen a half-breed with locks like that. You must have had an ugly mother.”

  “She was human,” Nath replied.

  Ornthall snorted. “Light hair. Light eyes. It’s a sign of inferiority. No wonder you hide it. It would be better if you shaved it off. You would have more fortune with the true bloods of our kind. The sight of you would be more tolerable to bear.” He spat on the ground. “The one we seek is a man. Young. Fair. Tall and rangy. He is a murderer and slave. He would be out of place anywhere he goes.”

  “Why would he stay close to here?” Nath asked. “Wouldn’t he be far, far away?” The skin on Nath’s face clenched. Ornthall’s eyes narrowed. Nath turned toward Hacksaw. The old knight’s eyes grew big. Nath started scratching his face. “Um, um, what were you saying about this slave again? How did he look?”

  “What is wrong with your face? Why are you scratching it like a hound?”

  Nath felt his skin tightening on his face. “I-uh, well, I haven’t—”

  “Squad master, Thantis has a touch of crimson fever!” Hacksaw interjected. “I’ve passed it to him, sadly. I retched for days, I did, until my stomach was tight as a drum. The heaving is awful.”

  “I’ve never heard of a crimson fever,” Ornthall argued.

  “It’s awful. Very contagious.” Hacksaw patted Nath hard on the back. “It makes you heave your guts out!”

  Nath dropped on his knees, doubled over, held his stomach, and started to pretend to retch. “Blecht! Blecht! Blecht!”

  The big-eyed orcs backed their horses away. One of the orcs said to Ornthall in a surprisingly high-pitched voice, “I don’t want this crimson fever, squad master. I had something like that a season ago and was quarantined. We can’t take the curse back to Slaver Town.”

  “Be silent,” the squad master said, shifting his head side to side. “I don’t see any vomit.”

  “Oh, you will. The dry heaves are just the first sign of it,” Hacksaw said, excitedly. “It gushes like a sewer and smells like one too. My comrade is going to go down for days. It’ll be awful. You wouldn’t have any clean trousers you could spare, would you?” He patted Nath on the back. “He’ll need them.”

  Ornthall tucked his chin into his neck, backed his horse away, and covered his nose. “You better be off of this mountain when we come back in the next few days.” He made a sharp whistle. The dogs bolted into the forest. “Let’s go!”

  One by one, the orcs, covering their noses, rode into the forest and out of sight. The sound of the riders thundered through the woodland like frightened rabbits and down the hillside. Hacksaw let out a gusty laugh. “Ha ha! We sure fooled those superstitious stinkers! Crimson fever. There is no such thing.”

  Feeling his face, Nath chuckled. “So, I’m back to normal?”

  “Sure, if you call golden eyes and hair like flames normal.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Another day passed. Nath and company kept their watch from the bluff. No one said much. They didn’t make a fire, as there was no need for it in the southern warmth, but they did need to keep the snakes and varmints away that would nuzzle up when they slept.

  Nestled in the hillside, in a seated position, Nath sat alone. His eyes were intent on the road leading into and out of Slaver Town. A covered merchant’s wagon entered late the day before. Now, it was midday, and the same covered wagon came back out. Pulled by a two-horse team, the wagon rattled down the road. A lone driver sat on the bench, flicking the reins from time to time. A man and a woman were tethered behind the wagon. They were skinny, walking on bare feet, and struggling to keep up. A heavy-set merchant, wearing bright clothing and a puffy hat, hung out of the back of the covered wagon, shouting at them.

  Nath pulled grasses from the bank out of the ground. He wanted to run down there and put an end to the travesty against humanity that was taking place. It was sick that people would do such things to other people. There had to be a way to put an end to Slaver Town. But it would take a small army.

  “May I sit with you?” Maefon asked. She’d crept in behind him.

  “Of course.” Nath scooted aside. “Plant yourself on the hillside. That’s what I’ve done. It doesn’t seem that I’m good for anything else.”

  Maefon plopped down beside him. She followed his stare. “You can’t save them all, Nath. It’s a big world, and there is travesty and injustice everywhere. You just have to learn to—”

  “Pick my battles. Yes, I know that, but it doesn’t make it any easier to sit here and watch it happen.”

  “But aren’t most of those prisoners criminals?” she said. “Isn’t Slaver Town part of their punishment?”

  Nath shrugged. “I know. There’s some bad fruit in there. No doubt. But many of the slaves were kidnapped against their will.” He picked a mud clot up and flicked it down the hill. It busted up and fell away into the grasses. “It’s run by orcs. Isn’t that bad enough?”

  She patted his thigh. “I know. Perhaps when Darkken returns, we’ll have some helpful insight.”

  “I don’t need insight. I have intimate knowledge of that sludge hole. We need to take down the slavers and wipe out the orcs. I’ve been thinking, and it’s kinda sad, but if I had command of the dragons, this would be easy. Just imagine dragons streaking out of the sky and turning those guard towers into pillars of flame. They could turn those great cedar walls to ash in moments.”

  Maefon’s brows lifted. “Well, you certainly have given this a lot of thought. Such an imagination.” She massaged his thigh with strong fingers and closed her eyes. “I can see it. A bull dragon dropping out of the sky, squashing dozens of orcs underneath its massive girth. Flames like a waterfall coming out of its mouth. That would be something!” She pushed Nath down into the grass, climbed on top of him, and kissed him.

  It was a long, passionate kiss. Nath wrapped his arms around her firm body. He pulled her closer, letting all of his pent-up passion come out.

  Maefon broke off the kiss. She was panting. “I’m sorry, but I’ve been wanting to do that since I saw you again.” She looked around. “I don’t think anyone saw.” She kissed him hard, then broke it off.

  Nath’s heart pounded like a team of galloping horses. His chest expanded and fell. “What’s going on? What about Darkken?”

  “I love him, Nath, but I love you too. I’ve missed you, longed for you.” She stroked the damp locks of hair over the top of his ear. “You are different. You make me feel like I’m bursting all over.”

  “I know the feeling.” He tried to pull her back down to his lips.

  She pushed against his chest. “We can’t. I’m just spun up over you, but I know this is wrong. Now is not our time. The
re may never be a right one.” She chewed her lip. Her eyes watered. She lay down in his arms with her body quivering. “I love you, Nath.”

  CHAPTER 25

  The sun fell behind the westward hills. Maefon had scurried out of Nath’s arms not long after their last embrace. His heart was still pounding as he sat on the bluff, staring into space. Hacksaw approached. The hard-eyed soldier puffed out a stream of smoke from his pipe. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing.” Nath didn’t meet Hacksaw’s eyes.

  “Oh, that means something. I can tell by the tight inflection in your voice that you are troubled by something.”

  “Of course I am. Darkken is on the inside, and we are on the outside.” Nath turned away.

  “Heh. I’ve been around the world a bit, and I know that look. Besides, I saw Maefon scrambling up that hill with cheeks like blossoming roses.” Mirth built in his voice. ‘The two of you shared a moment, didn’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Don’t start lying now. It’s a bad habit to get into.” Hacksaw climbed up on the rock and sat beside Nath. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Relationships tend to heat up on the trail. That’s why you don’t see many women soldiers. When the hot blood gets going in the wild woodland—”

  “Stop. I don’t need to know about hot blood and wild woodlands.” Nath frowned. “Can we not talk about it? I feel guilty enough.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, Maefon and Darkken have a thing. We lost control of ourselves. I don’t want to come between them.”

  Hacksaw puffed on his pipe. “She’ll decide for herself. Most women always do. I remember my love. She was something. She wasn’t a curvy little thing like that elven vixen, built more like a good solid plank of wood, but she sure made me happy. And personality—straight as an arrow and very forthcoming. Even Granda approved of her.” He winked. “And she’s hard to please.”