The Horsk Dragon (Swords of the Bloodline Book 1)

by A. R. Wilson

  “Yes, the sooner we leave the better. We can always rest along the way if needed.” Jurren put out his hand.

  Kidelar accepted the gesture, and Jurren pulled him into a brief embrace. What a relief to have his friend back. Now to put as much space between them and Chlopahn as possible.

  The walk back to the dragons included an explanation to Kidelar as to how the trees moved to form a path. Once they arrived at the lake, Jurren gave a whistle to signal the dragons to be ready. All three reptiles kept their backs to the men as they moved around the lake.

  Jurren walked to the front of Cale. “Are you as ready to leave this place as I am?”

  Cale looked to Logan who had moved to again keep his back to them.

  Kidelar moved closer. “What’s with the cold shoulder?”

  A thin line of smoke trailed up from Logan’s nose as he turned his head exactly far enough to see Kidelar from the corner of his eye. “I’ve had a visitor.”

  Arkose looked at Jurren, eyes widening, probably suspecting the same person Jurren did.

  “What visitor?” Kidelar put a hand to Logan’s neck. “I’ve been out of commission for a few days. How about you fill me in?”

  Logan redirected his eye to fix on Jurren. “He knows who came.”

  Azredan! That self-absorbed little... “I had nothing to do with that. He offered to guide us further on, and I turned him down.”

  Kidelar’s eyes furrowed with confusion. “Who are you talking about?”

  “An elf came to visit me and Arkose yesterday. He claims to be part of something called a...” Azredan’s warning of Amador being his sworn enemy jumped onto Jurren’s tongue. Lowering his voice, he continued. “Something called a Roan Order and insisted we abandon our dragons to follow him through the labyrinth.”

  “What labyrinth?”

  Jurren put a palm to his forehead. So much had happened while Kidelar was recovering. Where should he start?

  “This lake, this wood, the village where you were healed, is an elven land. Its borders are protected by a spell that prevents intruders. Were it not for Montanya guiding us in we never could have found it. And had she not come forward when she did, they might have killed us. Both the elves and Einiko have built what they call ‘barriers’ between this land and the halfling’s castle to prevent each from crossing over to the other. One of these elves, named Azredan, told us of a great labyrinth surrounding Einiko’s castle.”

  Blinking, Kidelar looked from Jurren, to Arkose, to Logan, then back to Jurren. “How long was I out?”

  Arkose chimed in on the easy answer. “Three and a half days, give or take a few hours.”

  Logan’s gravelly voice stayed low as well. “Your little friend said far more than that. I knew you were one of them. Your rounded ears didn’t fool me long.”

  “Look, I don’t know what all he said to you.” Jurren held his arms out wide to the side. “But believe me when I say whatever he claims, I have already rejected it.”

  Craning his neck, Logan shifted to face Jurren. “An ugly truth is not the same as a lie.”

  Jurren dropped his arms. “You believed his tale?”

  “I don’t want to. But searching for truth is rarely about seeking what I want to believe.”

  Great, here we go again. Jurren bit the inside of his cheek to keep from speaking his mind. As soon as Logan said his peace then he would drop it. Best to let him get it off his chest so they could be on their way.

  Logan adjusted his wings tighter in against his sides, tucking in low to the ground until his head rested at eye level with Jurren.

  “Azredan says I must travel to the west.” Logan glanced at the other two dragons then back to Jurren. “We must travel to the island protecting the remnant of griffins who survived Einiko’s rise to power. Once we convince their king to aid in our fight, we will bring them to Bondurant to fight the goblin army.”

  “My daughter’s life hangs in the balance. I am not taking some side quest to track down a griffin king.”

  “I never suggested for you to come.”

  “So you’re ready to abandon us? Just like that?” Jurren snapped his gaze to the left. “Cale, you too?”

  Closing his eyes, Logan lowered his head. “Jurren, the only way you personally have ever found truth was by experience, which is why I will not leave you. Yet.” He opened his eyes. “You once said to me: As soon as I find the images that show us parting ways, I will be done with you.”

  A sting of guilt pierced Jurren’s heart, followed immediately by bewilderment. Since when did he care about losing Logan as anything other than transportation?

  The dragon put a clawed hand to his chest. “I am charged by the Eternal to keep you safe, and I will continue to do so for as long as I am able. But if my presence causes you danger, I will be forced to leave.”

  “You think an elf to be a better guide?”

  A glint of arrogance sparkled in Logan’s expression as he pulled up to stand. Eyes pinched at the outer corners, a single eyebrow raised, with a shift of the head to stare down his nose. “Are you suggesting that following your own kind is equal to the blind guiding the blind?”

  Arkose came shoulder to shoulder with Jurren. “Where are we going next?”

  The fire in Jurren’s gut calmed for a moment. Which way did they need to go?

  “Where is the map?” Kidelar seemed paler than before. Even distracted.

  Jurren pointed to the side, a short distance away. “In your pack, where we left it.”

  The scholar walked over and dug through a pocket. “If I remember correctly, we reached the final spot on the first welkin line we followed.”

  “So do we jump to the next line south?” Arkose was rubbing the back of his head.

  “Ah! Here we are.” Kidelar unfolded the parchment. “By way of deduction, I presume this spot indicates the lake?”

  Walking to look at the map, Jurren nodded at the point under Kidelar’s finger.

  “Arkose, your memory serves you well.” The scholar stood, turning the map toward him. “There is another line starting immediately south of here.”

  Putting both his hands out, palm forward, Arkose shook his head. “You read the papers. I’m just here to provide muscle.”

  “You provide far more than muscle, my friend.” Jurren hefted a pack off the ground. “Let’s head out. Kidelar, you take the lead.”

  “No, you possess far better eyesight. You take the lead.”

  “You’re still recovering, and we don’t know how well you’re going to travel. You set the pace to the next point. If you need to stop then we stop.”

  Kidelar’s chin dropped to his chest as he slowly returned the map into its former shape. “I’m sorry we lost so much time.”

  “I’m not. You’re worth the wait.”

  Looking up, the scholar gave a slight grin. “May I never give you reason to think otherwise.”

  Logan grunted. “Break it up. Since when do men and elves profess their loyalty to each other?”

  “Why does he keep referring to you as an elf?” Kidelar jerked a thumb at the dragon.

  “Never mind. It can wait until our next rest stop.” Jurren avoided Arkose’s gaze as he walked over to Cale.

  The dragon’s cobalt scales had less of a metallic sheen in the filtered light of the canopy. When Jurren put a hand to the beast’s neck, Cale turned to give Jurren a look the man could only describe as soulful.

  “What is it?” Jurren ran a hand under the dragon’s jaw.

  Cale tried to brighten his expression.

  “I never thanked you for your help during that goblin attack.” Jurren put a second hand under the dragon’s jaw. “I owe you my life.”

  A scratchy whisper skittered over his scaly lips. “Truth reduces confusion.”

  “What?”

  “Your vision. Truth reduces confusion. Never forget.”

  “Cale, I —”

  Logan popped out a puff of a fireball toward them. “We leaving or not?”


  Setting his jaw, Jurren looked into Cale’s eyes one more time. “I will never forget. We’ll talk more later.”

  Climbing on, Jurren wondered about Cale’s expression. Why did he seem so sad? So reserved? It must be this place with these elves and all their moronic secrets. Or Logan’s ridiculous claim to seek out a griffin king. Why couldn’t all that talk of destinies stay dead in the past where it belonged?

  Arkose took the pack from Kidelar and shrugged it on. The scholar nodded his gratitude and gingerly made his way onto Logan.

  Once in flight, they headed south. A rippling sea of trees stretched out toward the horizon. Beyond it, past what the other two men could see, a sandy brown line glared at Jurren. Probably one of those barriers Azredan talked about.

  Regardless of what the landscape might be, the possibility of goblins was the real threat. Jurren mentally kicked himself for not thinking of this earlier. If Kidelar wasn’t well enough to travel, then he definitely wasn’t well enough to fend off a goblin. Lord Marvae had promised that if Jurren ever crossed into Chlopahn again they would get a very different reception. There would be no help at the next encounter. No elven medicine to prevent the spread of a goblin infection.

  What was I thinking? He wasn’t thinking. All he knew was he needed to find his precious Little Mally, and every hour spent among elves delayed her rescue.

  The first instant of a wave of vision tickled at Jurren’s shoulders. He braced forward, arms wrapped around Cale’s neck. Sand, wind, pain... and a face.

  “No!”

  Blurring sand raced through Jurren’s mind, burning along his skin by the wind in the vision. Pain. Searing pain dug into his throat, swelling into his chest. He couldn’t breathe. The sand bore too deep. His lungs, as wrapped in the vision as his mind, began to seal off. More sand. More wind. Then a face shuddered to the forefront. Pale skin framed by long, dark hair.

  “No... no.” Jurren choked on the single repeating syllable.

  Another thought rushed forward. What of Kidelar? The scholar’s waves of vision always coincided with Jurren’s.

  Pulling his lids open against the pelting sand and ensuing tears, Jurren looked ahead. Kidelar sat slumped against Logan’s neck. The position of the scholar’s arms suggested he had the strength to hold fast through the assaulting images.

  “Truth reduces confusion.” Cale’s advice called out through the ethereal wind.

  Jurren closed his eyes. Though his chest begged for breath, he fought for the strength to seek the truth beneath the imagery. Searing waves of sand pulled back into a gentle knowing of the sand’s presence. Howling wind calmed into an awareness of a breeze. Pain became discomfort. He inhaled deeply, grateful for the calm in the storm.

  The face in his mind’s eye pulled out to the side as an immense forest of sandstone erupted out of the ground. Long, dark hair parted at the edge of the face to reveal pointed tips and Azredan’s impish smile. A white light glowed at his forehead. Then a pinpoint line streaked out from the light. Racing toward the horizon, the line zig-zagged through the sandstone forest like a charted path on a map. The light thinned and disappeared into the twisted landscape beyond.

  His gut clenched. He would rather fight a thousand goblins alone than trust an elf to guide him. Especially that elf! How could Ellesha Shan Shair expect him to do this? How could she put her trust in elves?

  A dark silhouette floated up ahead. Not behind his eyes, but in front of them. Formless at this distance, something hovered at the edge of the skyline. He shook his head, trying to dispel the imagery still hinting at his next course. Then it was gone. The vision, the face of Azredan, the form up ahead. Nothing but trees coating mountain tops in all directions.

  Looking to Kidelar, he saw the scholar’s hand beginning to slip.

  Before he could think to shout a warning call to Logan, the form came back. At the crest of the next peak, two dark wings pushed in full flight. Jurren’s stomach dropped. All sensation scattered into the background. His vision tunneled into the single image ahead. A new sensation flooded his soul: impending doom.

  Logan faltered. Good, he saw it too. With Kidelar partly wrapped around his neck, Logan banked hard to the right and fell into a dive. Cale followed close behind. Jurren glanced back to see Helmsley in hot pursuit with Arkose holding out a hand as though to ask why the change in course.

  Kidelar seemed as though he were finally coming out from under the onslaught of his vision. His legs straightened to pull himself center atop Logan.

  Good, good. Now to escape the horsk dragon!

  Logan veered around a rock outcropping, and Jurren urged Cale to stay close behind them. They weaved along a canyon, flying low and fast.

  Then Jurren heard it. The screeching cry of that abomination. This time, he didn’t have the fog of sleep melding the sound into a dream. Nor did a spirit of forgetfulness lapse the sound into a faded memory. As the shattering call echoed toward them, a chill of familiarity raced along his spine. He knew this sound. All those years ago standing beside Neywan and Daiguin as a horsk dragon crawled out of the Predator’s Den now seemed like yesterday. The fear. The horror. The bizarre expression on Daiguin’s face when he groaned, “Not another one.”

  He chanced a look back. Helmsley followed with nothing but trees stacked along the canyon behind him. Arkose started pointing animatedly to the rear.

  With a nod, Jurren turned and clung to Cale. They had to find a way to hide, or escape, or something!

  Whoosh!

  A peel of fire engulfed a line of trees at the next twist in the canyon. Logan reared away. Cale faltered, clipping a few branches as he banked away from the flames. Behind them, Helmsley bellied into a tree top, snapped it in half, then broke two more trunks attempting to right himself midflight.

  Jurren shuddered. Flying this low was dangerous to the dragons, even more dangerous to the men if a single mistake caused them to fall. Cruising any higher would put them in plain sight of the horsk dragon. Turning to fight wasn’t an option. Anything that big had an appetite to match its size. Three smaller dragons and three grown men would only be an appetizer.

  That’s it. An appetizer! Jurren craned his neck, digging a ring from his pocket.

  Another peel of fire shot out, forcing them to bank to the right again. Cale, apparently anticipating the attack, whipped easily onto a corrected course.

  The horsk dragon screeched again. Closer than before. Jurren scanned to the left then behind. Two ridges to the north, immense, dark wings slipped into view over the tops of the trees.

  “Cale, rise up!”

  The cobalt dragon shook his head.

  “Trust me, rise up. I have a plan.”

  His blue head pivoted to make eye contact then ascended. As they lifted skyward, the fullness of the horsk dragon came into view. Those black scales surrounding a form nearly ten times the size of his companion dragon. A mouth large enough to swallow a man whole snapped open to blast another fiery stream.

  “Keep going! Get above that thing.”

  Cale obliged. In a steep climb, they sailed upward. The horsk dragon arched its wings to pursue.

  “That’s right, you greedy, demon trash.” Jurren twisted his body to face Cale’s tail. “Come and get me.”

  The horsk dragon slowly closed the distance between them, muscles bulging with power.

  Jurren squeezed his hand into a fist. He imagined a full-grown bull striped of its hide and ready to butcher. Pushing all his will into the mental image, Jurren begged the ring to bring it forth.

  Pink and red swelled before him in a giant mass of flesh. Cale pitched back from the sudden added weight, throwing Jurren off center. He scrambled to grip Cale’s rear leg before tumbling into a freefall.

  “Jurren!” Cale reached a clawed hand out to help him up.

  Keeping his eyes on the blob of growing flesh, Jurren watched the horsk dragon dip to catch the free meal.

  “Come on! Keep growing!” Jurren begged the ring to lodge the bu
ll carcass in the dragon’s throat.

  In a single gulp, the pink and red mass disappeared. The horsk dragon gave a second swallow and continued to pursue.

  “So much for that idea.” Jurren dangled for a moment, looking for a way to climb back up onto Cale.

  Whoosh!

  Fire streamed toward him. In a fraction of a second, Jurren’s reflexes did the only thing they could do to keep him alive a few moments longer. He let go.

  The fire engulfed Cale as he broke into a dive to rescue his rider. Behind him, the horsk dragon took a wide, sweeping turn to follow. Jurren debated for a brief instant whether it would be better to fall to his death or be burned alive.

  Cale pulled his wings in tight, streaking toward Jurren. He slammed into Cale’s neck as the dragon gripped him with his forearms. They veered hard right as Cale tried to shove Jurren back into riding position.

  “That thing can’t maneuver as tight as you.” Jurren leaned into the dragon’s neck once he was seated. “We need to find somewhere to lose him.”

  Nodding, Cale swooped toward the nearest canyon. Logan came alongside, right behind them. They curved along two more steep valleys, taking as many twists and turns as they could.

  Then up ahead, Helmsley charged toward them in a path to intercept. Slipping over Cale, Arkose sat perched with sword in hand.

  “What are you doing?” Jurren twisted to the rear.

  Helmsley flew straight for the horsk dragon.

  “Cale, we have to help them. They’ve gone mad!”

  As Cale made the turn, time slowed down for Jurren. He watched Helmsley tuck his wings in tight, neck stretching fully extended. Arkose rose from a crouch to a stand with blade in hand. The horsk dragon opened its mouth, a ball of fire yawning for release in the depths of its throat. Then Helmsley dove into that chasm of a mouth.

  He’s sacrificing himself...

  Arkose lunged forward from the impact.

  The horsk dragon lurched to the side. A sword protruded from its eye socket. Helmsley’s back legs flopped on either side of its mouth. The horsk dragon’s wings buckled and twisted inward.