“Drop yours and I’ll drop mine,” he said, staring into my eyes.
“Gladly,” I said.
I broke the clinch and tossed Brenwar’s war hammer and Fang to the ground.
He dropped his mace.
Kryzak was bleeding badly and limping. He didn’t stand a chance. He wiped the blood from his mouth and spat. My shoulder burned, but I could still take him. One dragon arm was better than two man arms, magic or not. I would make him pay for what he’d done to Shum. But I wanted answers to my questions. Why was he doing this? Who was behind it all? I was going to pin him down and squeeze his neck until I found out. I balled up my fists and took a step forward.
He raised his mailed fists, said, “Next time, Nath Dragon,” and bumped them together.
Boom.
The cavern shook and started to cave in. I jumped out from under a falling boulder. When I looked up, Kryzak was gone. His war mace as well.
“Guzan!” I swore. But I wasn’t alone. Goblins and gnolls spilled into the room, weapons raised and mouths crying for my blood. I snatched up Fang and the war hammer and faced the horde that came at me. A furnace erupted inside me.
I yelled out my new battle cry.
“Dragon! Dragon!”
CHAPTER 8
The rain had stopped. A foggy mist remained over the grasses, but Ben kept Garrison in his sights. He stayed back far enough, looking like little more than a squirrel in the distance, and trudged after him.
“What is he up to?” Ben asked himself, wiping the rain from his face. “Ah, I’ve had enough of this already.”
Garrison had been wandering off plenty over the past few days. He’d had a zeal for snaring and trapping lately, and he’d wanted to hone his skill. He’d sell the pelts for extra coin, but his business wasn’t very good. Rabbit pelts didn’t go for much unless you caught a bunch of them. Garrison hadn’t.
Ben stopped and squatted in the grasses. Garrison’s head was over his shoulder, and he spun around. Ben’s heart pounded in his chest. Oh great, he must have seen me. He kept down and waited. When he peered up again, Garrison was gone.
“By Guzan! How’d he do that?”
Following the path in the tall grasses, Ben trotted after him, heading in a direction he’d never been before.
Trees were ahead, tall pines, oaks, and birch that stretched over a mile in each direction. It would’ve been as good a place to set snares as any, but plenty of dangers lurked in the woods. It was safer in the open plains. Easier to spot people or things. Easier to spot anything. At worst, a herd of deer or gazelle might pass, or you might spook a flock of birds.
He stopped a dozen feet from the woodland’s edge and fingered the pommel of his sword.
“What are you up to now, Garrison?” he whispered. His heart pounded behind his ears.
Maybe I should go back? No, maybe he’s in danger.
He looked over his shoulder. The rolling hills offered safety. The forest offered another element: danger. Chill bumps rose on his arms.
“Better be no ettins in there,” Ben said, moving on.
He pressed through the branches. The ground was covered in needles and leaves. He kneeled down and picked Garrison’s trail back up. Garrison hadn’t bothered to cover his tracks, and Ben had a keen eye for them. Dragon had taught him that.
Taking his time, he picked his way through the forest and stopped. Garrison’s voice caught his ears. Ben crept toward the sound and pressed his body against a tree, then peered around.
Garrison kneeled in a clearing, rocking back and forth, rubbing something in his hands. He wasn’t alone. Ben froze, and his chill bumps got more bumps.
Who is he talking to?
Garrison was talking to someone or something. A shadow or a shade.
And it was talking back.
“Well done, Garrison,” it said. Its voice was deep and creepy. “Keep me informed.”
“As you wish,” Garrison said, bowing. “All hail Barnabus.”
What did he say?
“All hail indeed,” said the shade. The image shimmered and faded away.
Ben remained hooked to the tree. What was that? Who was that? Barnabus?
Here was the itch that Ben had needed scratched. Ben could feel it in his gut now.
Garrison’s a spy! A traitor.
He stepped out from behind the tree and drew his sword.
Garrison jumped.
“A … Ben, what are you doing here?” Garrison said.
“No, Garrison, what are you doing here?” He took a step closer. “Traitor!”
Garrison stepped back and lifted his hands, palms up.
“I’m just checking the snares, Ben. You know that.” He eyed the lump on Ben’s head. “Say, you aren’t feeling so well, are you? And that bump’s looking worse. Let’s get you back to the camp.”
“Checking snares my behind, Garrison,” Ben said. “You work for Barnabus. You know about Sasha, don’t you! Where is she?”
Garrison’s smile was like a fox’s. Ben had never seen that look before. All these months his friend had been quiet and agreeable, even dull, but now he was different.
“Ben, really, whatever it is you think you saw, I can explain,” Garrison said. “Listen, let’s get out of this rain. There’s a spot nearby where we can talk.”
“Here is just fine,” Ben said. “I’m all ears.”
“You’re trembling, Ben. Are you afraid of something?”
Ben swallowed. He’d never been in this sort of confrontation before. He was alone. No backup. His eyes slid through the trees. Maybe he’s not alone.
“Out with it, Garrison!” Ben said. “I want to know everything.”
Garrison shrugged his broad shoulders. He had about thirty pounds over Ben and was strong as a black bear. He took a step forward.
“You going to kill me, Ben? With your little sword?” Garrison rubbed his chin. “I don’t think you have it in you. Killing a man. Your friend. A fellow soldier? How are you going to explain that, Ben? Murdering a Legionnaire. Over what? They’ll hang you for certain.”
“I’m sure they’ll figure it out,” Ben said. “I’m an honest man.”
“You aren’t going to stab a man whose sword is snug in the scabbard, are you, Ben? Tsk, tsk. No, I don’t think so.” He kept his hands up and offered a smile. “Listen, Ben, no one else has to get hurt. Not me, and not you. And do you really think I’d be doing this if I didn’t have to? I don’t have a choice, Ben. The Clerics of Barnabus … they have my family.”
“Say again.”
Garrison’s eyes drifted left.
“They have my family.”
“Liar,” Ben said. “I know it, and you know it. Now, you’re coming with me. Keep those hands up.”
“What?”
“Clasp your fingers together on your head,” Ben said. “You know that drill. Don’t play stupid with me, Garrison.”
“Oh, with you, never, Ben.” Garrison rolled his eyes. “Never at all.” He locked his fingers over his head. “All right, then, is this better?”
Ben stepped around behind him and poked his sword into the other man’s back.
“Go!”
“Do you want to march me back, or can I walk normal? Ow!”
“Waddle like a duck for all I care, Garrison. Just get moving.”
Garrison waddled forward and started making quacking sounds.
“Stop it!”
Garrison kept at it.
All these months I never suspected a thing!
Garrison had been quiet, but not too quiet. He’d worked hard, trained hard, and fought hard. He’d always had a steely quality about him, but Ben had put that down to his being a soldier. Now Garrison was a different person. Sly and confident. Speaking with another level of intelligence.
Ben wiped his sweaty palm on his trousers and swallowed.
“So Ben,” Garrison spoke up as they cleared the forest. “What are you going to tell the Legionnaires? There’s only a few of them. And
the sergeant in charge isn’t so bright. The villagers won’t know who to believe. Are you going to tell them I’m a spy? Where’s your proof?”
“I’ll figure it out when we get there,” Ben said. “Just keep quiet.”
“Certainly, Ben. I wouldn’t want to interrupt your thoughts. After all, you’ve much thinking to do. Very much indeed.” Garrison shrugged and barked a laugh. “Let me know if you need any help with that.”
Ben didn’t know what do to. He knew that Garrison had information that would help him find Sasha. But his gut told him something else. Garrison was dangerous. Evil.
Maybe now is the best time to stop him.
He poked Garrison in the back again.
“Ow!” Garrison whirled. “There’s no need for that, Ben!”
Ben clipped his thigh, drawing blood.
“Ben! Cut that out!”
“You want me to stop, Garrison? Draw your sword!”
“You can’t be serious. Ow! Stop doing that!”
Ben was seething. “Stop me.”
Garrison backed up and withdrew his sword. “I’m much better than you.” Garrison smiled. “You know that.”
Rain splattered off steel.
Ben said, “Prove it.”
CHAPTER 9
Gashed from head to toe, I trudged back to the mouth of the cave and out into the rain.
Sasha was the first person I saw, huddled down out of the rain under a dead tree. Her blue eyes widened, and she gasped. Froze.
“N-Nath,” she said, slowly rising to her feet.
“Aye,” I said. “What’s left of me.”
“What-what happened to you?” she said, running up to me. She hooked my arm over her shoulder and helped me along.
“Nothing I care to talk about,” I said, “but this is over, for now.” I tossed the bundle under my arm to the ground.
That’s when Bayzog and Brenwar appeared.
“You’re all bloody,” Brenwar said. “What did you do?”
“It’s good to see you too, Brenwar.” I kicked the bundle open. “I brought you gifts.”
Brenwar’s war hammer lay there along with Shum’s sword and Bayzog’s baubles. I’d even put my armor back on.
Brenwar crossed his thick arms over his barrel chest. “Did you kill him?”
Kryzak. I wished he was dead, more than anything. He’d killed Shum. And now he’d escaped. It really burned me. I shook my head.
“Give him a moment, Brenwar,” Sasha said, “he can barely walk, and he’s wheezing.”
“So?” Brenwar said.
I eyed him. “Kryzak escaped,” I said.
“What about the rest?” Brenwar said.
I shrugged. “Maybe dead,” I said, “except them.”
“Them, who?” Bayzog said, his violet eyes like saucers. He looked at me like I’d turned into an ogre or something. It made wonder. Have I changed again? I swung myself and Sasha back toward the mouth of the cave.
“Them,” I said, pointing.
Sasha let out a sharp gasp. The first dragon appeared. She was bigger than a dog, with bright-yellow scales and white stripes. Dark eyed and winged, she batted her long lashes at me and brushed past my leg.
Sasha started saying, “He’s so—”
“She,” Bayzog said, kneeling down and holding out the back of his hand.
The yellow dragon, a golden flower, lifted her nose and snorted past. She then spread her wings and rose into the sky.
Another came, big as a man and long necked.
“A purple tail,” Bayzog said.
Its clawed feet splashed into the mud, and the rain splattered off its dark-violet scales. It showed a row of sharp teeth six inches long, dragged its belly over the stones, and disappeared into the woods. Good thing, too. The wingless ones were ill tempered and harsh. Their heavy tails could shatter bones and rock.
The others came out, some on two legs, most on four. All splashed with vibrant colors. Most of them were little taller than my knee. They were rubies, diamonds and emeralds in the muddy rain.
“I want to hold one,” Sasha said, kneeling down.
“No you don’t,” I replied, pulling her up. “And don’t ever try it. If they want to be held, they’ll come to you.”
“They’re just so,” she clasped her hands, “magnificent.”
One by one they darted into the sky. Only one out of the many thanked me. Barely.
“That,” Sasha said, gawping as they went, “was incredible.” She looked me in the eye. “You saved them all, Nath. You did something good.”
I groaned and shuffled to a log and sat. Sure, I’d done some good, but I’d also done an awful lot of killing.
Was that bad?
I watched the rain wash my blood off into a puddle between my feet. My blood and theirs. It would take more than the rain to cleanse me of what I had done. Those goblins and gnolls, they were dead. But it had been them or me.
Brenwar picked up his war hammer and slung it onto his shoulder.
“Let’s go,” he snorted. “We’ve got a friend to bury.”
***
Brenwar had a stretcher made, but despite my wounds, I carried Shum’s body out of the crater. Unlike most elves that were lither in frame and lighter in weight than men, the Elven Ranger was heavy. I didn’t complain. His death was my burden and mine alone. I’d walk him all the way back to Elome if I had to.
Silently, we picked our way through the woods and back to the plains. It had stopped raining, and the sun began to set. The horses awaited us there. Shum’s Roamer Stallion stood taller than the rest, and I lay Shum down before him. The horse nickered, stamped his hooves, and snorted. I grabbed the reins and patted his nose.
“I’m sorry, boy. I’m sorry.”
I probably knew more about the Roamers than anyone except the Roamers themselves, but that was still very little. They were a discreet bunch, always moving through the lands and keeping to themselves.
“What do we do?” Sasha said. “Do we bury him here or do we take him somewhere else?”
I looked to Bayzog.
He shrugged with his eyes. “It’s not good to keep the dead above the ground for more than a day.” He shook his beard. “Not good at all.”
“They’re a private people,” I said. “I suppose a modest burial will do.”
“I think he’d like that,” Sasha said, picking at her lips. “I’ll pick some flowers.”
“I’ll help.”
Shum’s stallion nudged me, almost knocking me over.
“What is it?”
It dug its hoof by Shum and slung its head over its shoulder.
“Huh?”
It did it again.
“I think Shum’s horse wants to take him,” Sasha said.
“Is that what you want?” I said in its ear. “You want to take Shum?”
It nodded its head and neighed.
I looked at the others. “I suppose we can follow him. What do you—”
A black shadow crossed the sun and dropped into the grass.
Sasha screamed.
It was Sansla Libor.
CHAPTER 10
Sansla Libor stood with his black wings spread and his knuckles on the ground. He was a towering figure, the breadth of two men, and the muscles of a savage beast rippled under his fur. He beat his chest with one mighty fist and bared his fangs. He grunted.
“Get behind us,” Brenwar said to Sasha and Bayzog.
He brought his war hammer to the ready. I went for Fang.
Sansla’s wings collapsed behind his back, and his arms spread wide. His eyes grazed over all of us and rested on Shum’s body. He barked and shuffled back and forth.
“You think he wants Shum?” Sasha said.
“Well, he ain’t getting him,” Brenwar said, storming forward. “Get out of here, you ape! I’ll put a dent in your head as big as that crater. Do ye think I forgot what you did to me?”
My blood charged. I remembered the last scrape I’d been in with th
e ape. I could barely handle him then, but now, with my two dragon arms, his timing couldn’t have been better. I limped after Brenwar. I couldn’t hide my limp, and I didn’t care.
“Let’s do this for Shum,” I said.
We flanked the ape. Brenwar was left and I was right.
The ape didn’t glance at either of us but headed toward the others.
Brenwar charged. “No you don’t!”
I followed suit.
Sansla sprang over the top of Brenwar and swatted him in the back. Brenwar’s boots flew over his head, like a child had flung a doll.
“Now you’ve done it,” I said. I brought Fang down.
Sansla snatched my wrist and twisted.
“Argh!”
Fang fell from my fingers. I punched Sansla in the face. Then the gut.
The winged ape winced and slammed me into the ground. It was bigger and stronger. Just as fast. It twisted me around and stuffed my face into the grass, putting its full weight upon me.
I don’t remember it being so big or powerful!
Whop!
Its body shook, and it let out a howl.
“Get off him, you hairy beast!” Brenwar yelled.
It pounced off my back and onto Brenwar.
The dwarf disappeared under its girth, only to reappear hanging in Sansla’s grip by his beard.
Sansla slung Brenwar right at me.
I caught Brenwar in my chest, and we tumbled head over heels before we pushed off one another.
“Not a word about this,” Brenwar said.
“I think I’ve had enough of this myself,” I said, rising to my feet. I stuck Fang in the ground and clicked my claws.
I narrowed my eyes at Sansla. “I’m going to rip your wings off.”
Brenwar was already moving.
I passed him in a blink.
Sansla met me halfway, and we tore into one another.
I pounded into his ribs.
He socked me in the belly and slung me to the ground.
I jumped up and busted him in the face. The chin. The belly.
His hairy arms flailed me with savage fury.
I got my fingers around his neck.
He wrapped his big paws around mine.
I squeezed with all my might, feeling my eyes bulge from my head.
The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) Page 51
