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

by Craig Halloran

  I put my hands out in front of me.

  “Perhaps I should be going. I don’t think a little bit of rain ever hurt anyone, eh?”

  When facing a conflict of superior enemies, play nice before the first dagger strikes.

  “Oh, ho-ho,” the leader said, swinging his sword up on his shoulder. “So you want to play nice now, do you, smart fella? What’s the matter? Are we too ugly for you?”

  “As a matter of fact, yes, but that’s not the reason I’m willing to leave.”

  The enforcers snickered as they drew their daggers.

  “It’s nothing personal,” I said, “I mean, yes you are ugly, not like an orc—well, except you,” I pointed at one with the turned-up nose, “and you.”

  “Be silent, you fool! You’ve crossed the line, big mouth. And to think, all you had to do was walk out when I said, but now you’ll have to pay. Possibly with your life, you golden-eyed freak!”

  A heavy thumping pounded inside my chest. They meant business. I slid between the table and the wall. They came closer. I didn’t need this kind of trouble.

  “Tell you what, uh, what do you call yourselves?”

  “Enforcers, fool!”

  “So it is, Enforcers Fool. Very catchy. Now here is what I offer. Leave me be, and I’ll see to it that you can walk out of here, not crawl… or die.”

  They snickered.

  “You’ve got a death wish, do you? So be it! Enforcers, take him!”

  I stuck out my dragon arm.

  They hesitated, eyes going back and forth between each other.

  “What’s the matter? Never seen a dragon’s arm on a man before?”

  Even the big one gawped and scratched his balding head.

  I had them now. I had them right where I wanted them. I shoved the table aside, stepped forward, and towered over them, except the one in the back, of course.

  “Men! What are you waiting for? We’ve taken down plenty of stranger things before, but never one with a mouth so big. And do I have to remind you who your lord is? The Jackal will not be pleased if you fail him in this. Now, don’t make me tell you again, enforcers. Attack!”

  They surged forward, striking high and low.

  I leapt into the rafters. This isn’t what I wanted. Not at all. These men were killers, and they wanted me dead. I couldn’t stay up here forever. There was only one rafter and nowhere to go.

  “Brock! Get over there and jerk that bird out of those rafters!”

  The oversized man made it across the room in three strides, reaching up my way. His big fingers reached at my feet as I kicked them away.

  “Go away, Brock!”

  He was big and ugly but not stupid. He laughed.

  “Get him, Brock!”

  “Snap his neck like a chicken's!”

  “I’ve got dibs on his pretty hair!”

  I kicked Brock in the nose, drawing a painful howl. That last comment lit a fire in me. My problem was they could kill and seemed perfectly willing to, but I could not. Problem.

  Brock threw his shoulder into the post. The entire building shook.

  The innkeeper was screaming, “Stop it! Stop it!”

  The leader shoved him to the ground.

  It seemed these enforcers had a point to make. Something weird was going on here, and the Jackal, whoever that was, was behind it all. It was time for me to move.

  Brock hit the post again, cracking it and shaking the room.

  I dropped onto his shoulders and blinded him with my hands.

  “Easy, Brock,” I said. “What you can’t see, you can’t hit!”

  “Get off of me, rodent!”

  He reached for my hands.

  I slapped him on his bald head.

  “That will leave a mark. Woo! My, it’s hot up here.”

  The leader shouted out, “Brock, kneel down so we can get a lick at him!”

  The fun was over. Brock dropped to a knee.

  I jumped from his shoulders to one table and then another. I had to get as far away from Brock as possible. He could crush me. Jumping, ducking, diving, and dodging, I got a few punches in as they chased me around the room.

  “Blast it! You fools!” the leader said. “Do I have to do everything myself? Brock, guard the door! We can’t let him get away.”

  They seemed pretty persistent about not letting me go for some reason. Perhaps they didn’t want word getting out about their indiscretions. I jumped left, right, then found myself cornered, two daggers and a sword at my throat.

  “Now we’ve got you!”

  CHAPTER 7

  “Give it up, or I’ll cut your throat!”

  I wouldn’t yield. Not to them. Not to men lacking character. And my pride wouldn’t let me give in to an inferior but skilled and well-armed force, despite the numbers.

  I started to speak.

  The leader cut me off. “Save it! Your tongue's caused you enough trouble. Keep your peace and get ready to die, freak!”

  I was tired and no longer hungry but agitated now. I didn’t like that word, “freak.” I would not yield. Not to this scum. Not now. Not no-how. Especially when I was fast. Faster than them all. I could draw Fang faster than they could swing. I told myself to do it. I willed myself to do it. But I did not. I couldn’t risk killing, evil men or not. There had to be a better way; there always was, my father said.

  I locked my eyes on his and summoned my magic within. Dragon magic, ancient, wonderful, accessible. I could see my reflection in the man’s eyes. His hardened features slackened at the sound of my thoughts.

  Lower your sword, I suggested.

  “Huh,” he said, shaking his head, “what did you say?”

  It wasn’t working. I summoned all I had within, my gold eyes glowing.

  “What is that?” one said.

  “A demon!” cried another.

  I made my suggestion again, putting all my mental strength behind it this time.

  Drop your sword!

  The leader’s blade clattered to the ground.

  “What did you do that for?” the enforcers said.

  “He’s a demon, I tell you!”

  Whack!

  I punched the man in the jaw, dropping him like a stone.

  “I’m…”

  Whack!

  I knocked another’s helmet off.

  “Not!”

  Twist! Crack! Boom! Twist!

  I disarmed and disabled the leader.

  “A demon!”

  One rushed.

  I had room to move now. I dipped and struck. My dragon arm’s jabs were like black lightning.

  The leader struggled back to his feet.

  I booted him in the ribs, lifting him from the ground. Evil men calling me a demon, such gall!

  One dove on my back; another climbed on my legs.

  I slung one crashing into a table and drove the other's head into the hard floor.

  I was dusting my hands off and saying “That should do it” when a large shadow fell over me. Big Brock was back.

  Whop!

  I crashed into the nearest wall, wondering, How did I forget about him?

  Have you ever been hit by a log before? Me either, but I was pretty sure I knew what that felt like now. Brock was quick for a big man, not as quick as me, but as quick as an eight-foot-tall man could be. And when he punched, you could feel it from one side to the other.

  Bam!

  My head!

  Bam!

  My gut!

  I struggled back to my feet and raised my fist, saying, “You want some more of this?”

  Bam!

  He knocked me off my feet and onto my butt.

  Gasping for air, I held my hands out, saying, “You don’t hit very hard for a big fellow.”

  “What did you say?” Brock said, his voice as loud as distant thunder.

  I held my nose. It was all I could do. I felt like the only thing holding my body together was my armor. “What did you say?” I mocked back. I don’t know why I did that.
I guess it was a character flaw that exposed itself in moments of desperation.

  Brock grabbed me by my collar, and with two hands, threw me across the room and into the bar. He was strong, very strong, and he hit as hard as an ogre. He came back.

  I snatched Dragon Claw from Fang’s hilt and stabbed him in the leg.

  “Ouch.”

  That’s all he said, "Ouch," as if I'd pricked him with a pin.

  He swatted the small dagger from my hand, sending it spinning across the floor.

  I was defenseless now. I was rattled. I couldn’t understand why I couldn’t handle this big man. I reached for the sword along my belt.

  He stopped me.

  “No! No! No! Demon!”

  I’m not a demon!

  He wrapped his arms around me as he lifted me from the ground. My feet dangled from the floor as he squeezed the life out of me.

  “How’s that feel?”

  I managed to say, “Great! I haven’t had my back cracked in forever.”

  He squeezed harder. I flexed my muscles. The harder he squeezed, the more I flexed. I just hoped my bones didn’t crack. The pressure was becoming unbearable.

  “Give up, demon! I’ve cracked bones thicker than yours before. Dwarves, orcs, elves, I’ve broke them all.”

  Who was this man, and what was he doing in this farm village?

  I snapped my head back into his chin and saw stars as he laughed.

  “Any moment, you will die,” he said in my ear.

  He might be right. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. And I didn’t have an ounce of magic left inside me. Maybe venturing without Brenwar was a bad idea after all. One thing was for certain: if it wasn’t for the dwarven armor I wore, I’d have been cracked like an egg already. I had to do something. Anything.

  “You ate it, didn’t you?” I said.

  “Ate what?”

  “All the food.”

  Wham!

  He slammed me to the floor as hard as he could.

  Breathless, I tried to speak but couldn’t form the words.

  Brock grabbed me by the hair, jerked my head back, and wrapped his arms round my neck and throat and squeezed.

  Oh no! This was bad. Very bad. Brock the giant man had me in a sleeper hold. My fingers clutched for the door, the only way of escape. I expected Brenwar to burst through at any moment, but darkness came instead.

  CHAPTER 8

  I woke up to the sound of rattling chains. When I opened my eyes, I noticed they were mine.

  “What is this? Ow!”

  I clutched at my chest. My ribs were broken. The big man had gotten the best of me. It got even worse. I was inside a metal cage, very much like the ones that held dragons.

  “No!” I cried.

  But no one answered. Groggy and dizzy, I rubbed a strange bump on my neck. I’d been injected with something. Possibly stabbed with a tainted stick, like the savages like to use.

  Two lanterns illuminated the exterior walls of what looked to be an old barn. I could hear the heavy rain pounding on the ceiling above me. Large drops of water splashed on my face and back. The chains rattled as I wiped the water from my face and scooted into the corner.

  “I can’t believe this,” I muttered to myself.

  I was caged like an animal in a barn that smelled like livestock, manure, and hay. I pounded my head on the bars. It hurt. But I deserved it. I’d been stupid and careless, I guess. But it wasn’t as if I had been looking for any trouble, either. If anything, I'd tried to avoid it. I sighed. I should have been happy that I was still alive. After all, the enforcers had made it clear that they wanted me dead. And Brock, that giant of a man, could have killed me easily with his own bare hands.

  Cold, tired, and still hungry, I collected my thoughts. It seemed I’d have to think my way out of this. And who was my captor? Was it some sinister bunch of village folk or the character the lead enforcer mentioned, the Jackal? How could I get into this much trouble at some silly little farm? That was when a river of ice raced down my spine.

  “Fang! Akron!”

  I grabbed my head and tugged at my hair. I’d lost them. And not just them but my pack with all my supplies. No not only did my chest and neck ache but my head did as well. And how long had I been knocked out cold? That’d only happened one time before.

  I grabbed the bars and tugged.

  “Hurk!”

  They didn’t budge. I dug my heels in.

  “HURK!”

  A bubble of snot formed in my nose and burst. The bars bent a little but didn’t budge from my disgusting effort. I labored for breath as I said, “Ew.”

  I kicked the bars. I hit the bars. I raked my dragon claws against the bars, but nothing happened. I was helpless in my cage.

  And there I sat: friendless, weaponless, and helpless while the water from the roof dripped, dripped, dripped. I moved from one spot to the other, only to catch a new drip from another hole in the roof. The barn creaked and groaned from the weight of the wind, but little stirred. No animals, no rats, no cats, no birds, which seemed strange for a place meant to keep animals. But there was something else different and unique: the smell of decay and death. On one wall were more chains and some digging tools: spades, shovels, and picks. A few work tables were spread out with hammers, anvils, and saws. My eyes were good, even in the poor light, but I swore there were bloodstains.

  “Not good,” I said, cradling my dragon arm. What if they were going to cut it off? Perhaps they really thought I was a demon. I wasn’t a demon. What an insult! I was a dragon! Well, I was part dragon―and any fool could see that. Perhaps it was my gold-flecked eyes that freaked them out.

  “I’ve got to get out of here.”

  Grabbing the nearest bar with my dragon arm, I tugged. The iron of the cage was at least a half inch thick. The metal groaned. I could feel my black arm growing with strength. What it would not do before it was doing now.

  “Come, Dragon,” I said through gritted teeth. “You can do it!”

  It moved no more.

  “Sultans of Sulfur!”

  I collapsed against the bars.

  Now my head was pounding, and my body was sore all over. I felt like a bruised apple from head to toe, and I could feel my face was swollen as well. On the bright side, I guess whoever it was wanted me alive. On the dark side of things, I had no idea how long it would be until I found out who that was. Cold, sore, hungry, and held against my will, I waited.

  CHAPTER 9

  “How could I be so careless?!” Brenwar yelled.

  A dozen well-armed dwarves stood nearby, awaiting orders.

  Nath Dragon had escaped. How he escaped, Brenwar could not figure. Every dwarf in all of Morgdon knew who he was. Every dwarf in Morgdon knew that he was not supposed to leave. Every dwarf was to keep an eye on him when another wasn’t. But like a ghost, he’d vanished.

  Brenwar rammed his head into a stone wall.

  “I can’t believe it!”

  He rammed it again.

  “Knock some sense into yourself!” he said.

  The other dwarves did the same.

  Clonk. Clonk. Clonk…

  “Stop it, dwarves! We don’t all need our melons damaged. We’ll be needing all of our wits to track him down.” He tugged at two fistfuls of beard.

  Brenwar had thought he had it all under control, but he'd miscalculated. Nath had gotten into his sack and taken some potion. What they did, Brenwar didn’t know, but one of them had to be the cause of all this. His investigation revealed a few other things. A small fire-breathing bat was said to have been seen. Another one, as big as a large cat, was found burnt to a crisp. It had to have been Nath, because no one had ever seen a fire-breathing bat before. But with the Festival of Iron, anything could happen. But that wasn’t what haunted him most. It was what Nath’s father, the grandest creature he’d ever seen, had said the last time he saw him.

  “I’ll keep him alive, your majesty,” Brenwar had promised.

  Nath’s
father had replied, “I’m not worried about him dying. I'm worried he’ll turn evil.”

  Nath turning evil? It didn’t seem possible, but the Dragon King's words had shaken his very core.

  “Get your horses, dwarves! Get your horns as well. He’s got a three-day start and could be anywhere in the world. The one that finds him gets a trunk full of gold!”

  Brenwar was the last one through the gate as they all exited with dwarven song and cheer. Brenwar took a deep breath as he watched them go, remembering another thing Nath’s father had said. “If we lose him, it will begin another Dragon War.”

  CHAPTER 10

  The sound of a barn door opening jostled me from my sleep.

  I wiped the water from my eyes and watched three figures stroll in. One was Brock, the big man, lumbering my way with the leader of the enforcers at his side. The other man I didn’t recognize. He was lean, blond haired, and blue eyed, with my sword, Fang, hanging at his side. I would have stood up, but the cage wouldn’t allow it. I sat up, and I crossed my legs as they approached.

  “That’s my sword,” I said, glowering.

  The man, light eyes intent on my arm, didn’t even acknowledge me.

  Rubbing his hairless chin, he said, “Peculiar, Barlow, but I don’t think he’s a demon. No, looks like a curse of some sort.”

  Barlow, an enforcer, looked at my eyes and then said to the other man, “But his eyes glowed. All my thoughts left me, and I dropped my sword. He doesn’t even have a spellbook, Jackal.”

  The Jackal made his way around the cage and stopped alongside the bar I’d bent.

  “Too strong to be a wizard. Hmmmm. Brock, get over here and fix this. Hm, he must have done this. It’s practically a new cage.”

  Brock lumbered over and grabbed the bar. The metal groaned as he pulled it back into position. He grunted at me as he returned to his friend.

  The Jackal said, “Well, you are pretty strong. I’ll give you that. Probably a good thing Renny doped you.”