The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10)

by Craig Halloran

  “Quit looking at it,” Brenwar growled, forcing us deep up the mountain and into the woods.

  CHAPTER 9

  After the first few miles, my wounded leg was in agony, and I’d forgotten all about my dragon arm. I just wanted to stop. I had no idea how Brenwar carried so much, no problem, no complaint, no issue at all. I wiped the sweat from my eyes and groaned. I could see the trail of the goblins. Moving a dragon over the faint and rugged pathways wouldn’t be easy, but they had their ways. Judging by the tracks, there were many to carry the load, too, so at least I had a good idea about the sizable force we’d run into. They were careful to cover their tracks, but it wasn’t enough.

  Ahead, Brenwar stopped. The goblin had awoken and now was wriggling in its bonds, eyeballing us with hatred. Brenwar’s shoulders heaved up, and the goblin fell to the ground with a wump.

  “Interrogation time,” Brenwar said, a row of white teeth showing over his beard.

  Now, you might be thinking that interrogations could be cruel and painful. And that they might conflict with the higher standards that I’d set in life. And you’re right; they can and they will sometimes. Of course, that’s what Brenwar’s for.

  I dropped the two packs on the ground and started rubbing my aching shoulders. “Finally.”

  Brenwar jerked the rag from the goblin’s mouth and drew back to wallop it in the nose.

  “Easy, Brenwar,” I said, “let’s give it a chance to speak first.”

  Brenwar stayed close, eyes intent on the goblin's mouth. Goblins have many tricks, and they only need a few seconds to send a warning.

  “Nah, I don’t trust him.” Brenwar wrapped his fingers around its throat. “Just ask yer questions and make it quick.”

  The first question was the obvious choice.

  “How many in your troop?”

  “Heh … heh … I’ll not tell—urk!”

  Its eyes widened as Brenwar squeezed. I could see its grimy coat of skin begin to turn red in the cheeks.

  I checked the dirt under my dragon-claw nails. My, my black claws were so shiny.

  “Oh, goblin,” I wagged my finger in his face, “I don’t think you want to toy with us again. Now, when I ask you a question, I suggest that you answer, with all the forthcoming integrity I’ve come to expect from your race.”

  Brenwar’s fingers slacked.

  “I don’t have integrity,” the goblin said. “Goblins don’t know what that is.”

  “Ah, an honest goblin, that is a good thing. Perhaps we can compromise on the information I require, then.”

  It cocked its ugly head. It seemed as if it wanted to scratch its head and consider what I had suggested. Goblins were always open to bargaining, especially when it concerned their lives.

  “C-Compromise,” it said, eyes sliding over toward Brenwar then back to me. “What kind?”

  Now that was good. The goblin was open to negotiation, but I think it had more to do with its own self-preservation than anything else.

  “You tell me where they are taking the dragon and what to expect, and I’ll add a few coins to your purse.”

  “What!” Brenwar objected. “You’ll not be giving the rotten life such a thing. I’ll not pay for answers I can get for myself.

  “No! No! NO!” the goblin cried. “Take the coins I will. I like the coins. Fair deal. Fair deal. I like my life. I’ll give you all the information you require, just don’t let the dwarf hurt me.”

  Even the biggest of goblins could turn out to be the biggest of whiners and babies. One thing was for certain: every creature valued its own life in Nalzambor. The problem was that they didn’t all value the lives of others.

  I tossed the first gold coin at its feet.

  It licked its lips.

  “Tell me where they are going and how many.”

  Sure, a single coin didn’t seem like much of a sacrifice in comparison for a dragon, but this goblin wouldn’t see any of the profits anyway. He’d be lucky to get so much as a few coppers or a silver for his efforts. Poor goblins. And whatever they’d sell the dragon for, they could have gotten a hundred times more.

  “Around the mountain where the sun sets, there's a city in the cliffs that overlooks the valley. Small city, cut from stone, ancient and abandoned long ago. Our hideout is there.”

  It seemed simple enough, assuming there was such a place. But I needed to know more about what they intended for the dragon. I tossed another gold coin at his feet.

  “Nath …” Brenwar growled at me. “That’s quite enough!”

  I held my hand out.

  “Are other dragons kept there?”

  It was a good question. For all I knew, they might have a dozen up there.

  It shook its head.

  “How many dragons have you sold?”

  I didn’t want to ask them how many they’d killed. I didn’t want to know.

  “Three.”

  I couldn’t hide my sneer. My guilt was also beginning to overwhelm me. If only I had gotten here sooner.

  I kneeled in front of the ugly creature and held the biggest gold coin it had ever seen in front of its face. Its beady eyes blinked repeatedly in the reflecting gold light, and a drop of drool fell from its lips onto its chest.

  “Who have you been selling the dragon to?”

  It didn’t answer.

  I didn’t like that. I enclosed the gold coin in my hand.

  “Do you want this coin or not?”

  It nodded. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

  “Who are you selling the dragons to?” I shook my dragon fist in its face.

  It closed its eyes and turned its chin away. Whoever they were doing business with, the goblin had greater fear of them than of me or Brenwar.

  I caught the light with the gold coin and reflected it into the goblin's eyes.

  Its eyes popped open. Its breathing became loud and heavy as it made a raspy sigh.

  “With this coin, you can start another life far, far away. We won’t say a thing.”

  It was in turmoil now. Its eyes shifted among me, Brenwar, and the coin. But something was holding it back, something dark and powerful. I could see the fear in its eyes, and goblins didn’t scare easily.

  “Tie him to the tree, then, Brenwar. It seems he would rather suffer than enjoy a fistful of gold,” I said, picking up the other coins and dropping them into my pouch.

  “I’d be happy to. But I don’t think that’s a very nice thing to do to a tree.” He looked around. “I’ll see if I can find a fallen log instead, or maybe a rock.”

  I shrugged. “Whatever you think is best. I just want to get going.”

  The goblin's face was contorted with emotion.

  “I’ll tell! I’ll tell! Please, show me my coins again.”

  “A change of heart, I see.” I set all the coins in my hand, the biggest one in the middle. “Well?”

  “The Clerics of Barnabus.”

  My heart stopped in my chest.

  CHAPTER 10

  “Finnius!” she screamed.

  Finnius's heart jumped as he emerged from a side room in the great hall, rubbing the ornate tattoos on his shaved head then wringing his hands. He was medium in build with a slight hitch in his step. His large eyes probing and evil, he approached with caution.

  “Yes, High Priestess,” he said, bowing.

  She sat on her throne, shoulders back, chin up, shifting on the tangerine-colored cushion and tapping her perfectly white teeth, an impatient look on her face. On either side of her, two bald men sat cross legged, muttering incantations under their breath. Finnius felt his heart flutter.

  She was different. Radiant. Exotic. Evil incarnate. She was the High Priestess of Barnabus, Selene. The acolytes of Barnabus―loyal, dutiful, and deadly―would do anything she asked, anything she asked at all. But at the moment, their task had escaped them. Finnius knew her wrath would not be contained much longer.

  She smoothed her dark robes over her chest as she rose from her chair and walked down the s
teps. Six lizard men with barbed spears stood tall, heads bowed as she passed. Her black dragon tail spilled out from under the hem of her robe and cracked one lizard man across the face, spinning him to the floor.

  “Walk with me,” she said.

  Finnius shuffled a half step behind, watching her tail disappear under her robes.

  She led him into the depths of the temple, down a stone staircase, and into a torch-lit room. The lizard men and acolytes knelt. Two eight-foot-tall lizard men stood guard at a tall, heavy iron door. He had little desire to go in there, but he had no choice in the matter. On the bright side, it wasn’t a torture chamber, but what lay within was far deadlier.

  “Open it,” she ordered.

  Her voice was commanding and persuasive, a rushing river with the power of a waterfall. He’d seen her speak and crack stone walls. He loved it and feared it, but he wanted such power for himself as well. Of course, he wanted her just as much. After all, she was the High Priestess, as pretty and evil as they came.

  He unhitched the ring of keys from his belt and unlocked the door. One lizard man slid the bar from the door while the other pushed it open before stepping out of the way. Selene took the lead, the cool draft billowing the dark hair along her face. Finnius fell in step behind her as the door was closed after them. Selene snapped her fingers, and a row of smokeless torches flared to life. They had an orange hue and only lit one side of the tunnel, which seemed too long to be underground.

  “Finnius,” she said, slowing her pace, “how many dragons have we captured this season?”

  His mouth became dry as an empty well. She knows this already, but I must squirm anyway.

  She always asked questions. Probing for failure. Searching for a reason to pounce.

  He cleared his throat.

  “Eleven.”

  “Ah, I see, and how many did we acquire last season?”

  “Ahem … eh … Twenty.”

  He felt himself shrink when she stopped, turned, and looked down into his eyes. He scratched a dry patch of skin on his hand and swallowed hard.

  She folded her elegant arms across her chest. “Hmmm … so we have caught fewer dragons this season than the last, yet we have more resources at our disposal than ever before.” Her voice rose to a higher volume. Her pleasant expression faded. “How could that be, Finnius?”

  Finnius could hear his heart thumping in his ears now. He knew why. She knew why, so why did she have to ask? Even worse, why did he have to answer? He remembered the last acolyte who'd failed to answer a similar question. He’d been brought into this tunnel with the priestess and never emerged. Finnius was that cleric’s replacement.

  I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know.

  He wanted to say that. The truth was he couldn’t actually say for sure, but that is what the last cleric had said. He looked her in the eye.

  “Nath Dragon.”

  Selene’s perfect lips curled, and her nostrils flared. She was getting taller now; he was certain of it as he watched her face contort in the orange light. It was dragon-like. Mysterious. Then gone.

  “Nath Dragon, indeed,” she said, putting her arm over his shoulder and leading him down the corridor to where another large door waited. “Come.”

  This lone door was as tall as the last, a black slab of stone, no keyholes, locks, or bars, just a smooth surface. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, and sweat beaded his forehead. Always something different and dangerous every time. He drew little reassurance from her arm around his shoulder despite how thrilling it was to have her touch him. She can’t be killing me. She just can’t be. She needs me. Doesn’t she?

  She stepped in front of him, raised her arms, and loudly proclaimed a series of mystic words. It was in a language even he didn’t comprehend, and all his attempts to pronounce it himself met with failure.

  The black door shimmered and wavered. Selene reached out for his hand, smiling. He was trembling when he took it and she pushed him in.

  CHAPTER 11

  I let the goblin go. Well, abandoned him to his bonds, actually. But that gave Brenwar and me enough time to distance ourselves from him.

  The journey around the mountain was long, the brush heavy, the bugs becoming more irritating the deeper we ventured. I’d already spit three bugs from my mouth. But my leg wasn’t so bad now, not with Brenwar carrying most of the burden again, and it was getting better. After all, I healed pretty fast.

  “What are ye thinking, Dragon?” Brenwar asked, pushing past some vines.

  The Clerics of Barnabus. That’s what I was thinking. Fiends of all kinds. My enemy of enemies. The mere mention of them left a foul taste on my tongue. It was like swallowing hot vinegar every time I heard them mentioned. I clenched my teeth and balled up my hands. I hated them.

  “The Clerics, Brenwar. We need to put a stop to them. We need to crush them all.”

  “I know.”

  It seemed every poacher in Nalzambor was paid by the clerics now. Kings of the dragon trade. The Clerics enslaved the dragons. They killed the dragons. They tortured them as well. They wanted the dragons' magic. It was the remnants of dragons that they sold: bones, talons, teeth, scales, and even parts from the flesh within. The power within dragons allowed them to cast many spells. The thought of it all lit a fire in my belly.

  I continued.

  “Everywhere we go, they turn up. We need to track them down one day, Brenwar. We need to save the dragons from their clutches, once and for all.”

  Brenwar stopped me with a disapproving look and sniffed the air. I could smell it, too. We were closing in. The goblins were close, just a few miles ahead now, I’d say.

  I gritted my teeth and took the lead.

  “Time to free the dragon.”

  ***

  The travel around the mountain's base was long. From where I stood, I couldn’t see the peak for all the trees, but the mountain wasn’t so big, not as big as Dragon Home, the Mountain of Doom. I had to admit, I missed that grisly exterior more now than ever. I even wondered what my father was doing. Was he worried? Mad? Or had he given up on me entirely? It all tugged at my heart.

  I climbed up onto a crag above the trail we’d followed the goblins on. Below was a wonderful view of the valley the goblin poacher had told us about. It was miles away, but I could still see the birds darting in and out of the tree tops, and I could smell the water that ran down the mountain to form a lake or swamp down there. Most likely a swamp. Goblins have a penchant for stagnant water, but for the most part they drink a homemade concoction called swill. A cup of dirt would taste better, judging by the smell.

  “We need to see its face,” I said as Brenwar crawled up the rocks beside me. Dwarves didn’t like to climb. They’d rather just carve a tunnel through a mountain than go above or around it. They swore it would save time in the long run, which it might, but we couldn’t take years to dig a tunnel.

  “Sun’s setting.” Dark clouds had formed about. “Storm’s coming. Best we get moving. The face will be black as coal in the dark, assuming there is one.”

  In less than an hour, we made it to the bottom of the mountain and saw the goblin hideout for the first time. The rain was a heavy drizzle now. I shielded my eyes from the drops.

  The mountain was flat on this side. A cliff face. A network of ledges and doorways. So far as I could tell, the mountain hideout could harbor hundreds if not thousands of goblins. Finding a dragon in there would not be easy. But at the moment ,there was a greater concern.

  “How are we going to get in there?” I asked. “There are no stairs or footholds that I can see.” I held my hand over my eyes. “But I don’t see any guards, either. Do you?”

  “No. But I bet I can find a way in,” Brenwar said. “If there’s a secret door in the stone, I’ll find it. There could be another entrance they use, too. We’ll just have to go back and follow the trail.”

  Just like in the Mountain of Doom, there could be a well-concealed entrance. But walking right up to it wasn
’t the best idea. I was certain there would be guards or a guardian. Probably not anything we couldn’t handle, but alerting them to our presence would be the problem.

  “I have an idea. Follow me.”

  We pushed our way through the forest until we came across the stream that came from the mountain and formed a waterfall that plunged into the valley. The water was clear below, a small lake surrounded by a lush and beautiful forest. It was unlikely goblins ventured into the valley, not near such crystal-clear water. It was a break.

  I looked at Brenwar, who said, “I know what you’re thinking, Dragon. I like it. Let’s go.”

  It took a little bit of time before we made it to where the valley bottomed out and the waterfall formed the lake. It was dark now, the warmth of the sun gone, replaced by a chill in the air. The sound of the waterfall was loud, steady, and soothing. Not a bad place to sit and fish for a while. I’d have to remember to come back here one day when all the goblins were gone.

  I climbed over the rocks, Brenwar at my back, and we plunged underneath the water of the falls. I shivered. The water was cold coming from the mountaintop, and being cold wasn’t one of my favorite things. Behind the waterfall, it was pitch black. I pushed my wet hair from my face and drew Fang from its sheath. A soft illumination reflected off the damp stones behind the falls. I squinted into the dimness.

  “I don’t see anything.”

  Brenwar huffed. “It’s because you don’t know what to look for.” He ran his hands over the stones, feeling, pushing, and probing nooks and crevices. Anything below the ground or leading into, it the dwarves are experts on. If there was a way under the mountain, the water would lead us there, but it was dangerous if you didn’t know what you were doing. Plenty of adventurers drowned this way. I really hoped we wouldn’t have to swim to get into this cave, assuming I was right and there was one.

  “Here it is,” Brenwar said. One second he was standing in the light, the next he was gone.

  “Where’d you go?” I asked.