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

by Craig Halloran

  “Have you gotten accustomed to swimming yet?”

  “Humph,” Bayzog said. “I’ve gotten accustomed to many things that would surprise you.”

  “You’ve surprised me plenty already.” Nath turned to Ben, who had drifted back along their side. “Have you been to Jordak’s Crossing as well?”

  Ben shook his head. “No, should I have been?”

  “No.”

  “Nath,” Bayzog said, “the Crossing is not what it once was. Our enemies control that spot. Just as well as most of the major bridges and intersections.”

  “Your point being?”

  “There are other ways across.”

  “And I was counting on the fact that you didn’t know that,” Nath said with a smile. “I’m certain we can handle any obstacles in our path. Besides, any other avenue would be two more days out of the way.”

  “The war is long,” Bayzog said. “We need patience.”

  “My patience thins,” Nath said. “But I’m willing to entertain your worries, wizard. Let’s ride and get a better look at your concerns.”

  Hours later, in the dark, they stood on the edge of a deep chasm overlooking a river of what looked like lava. Nath could see its shadowy glow in his friends’ faces. Hard lines. The river Jordak was the only river of its kind. Its bright, bubbling waters disintegrated skin from bone and withered away bone thereafter. There was no swimming in the Jordak. There were no boats that crossed it either. The heat rising from it felt like a fireplace, even from here.

  Nath wiped the sweat from his brow and stepped away.

  Ben held his nose. “Ew, that sulfurous smell is so strong. Do any fish swim in that thing?”

  “Some things live within,” Nath said, “but you wouldn’t want to catch them.”

  “I didn’t have that in mind at all,” Ben said, “Guzan, that’s hot! And deep. How do we cross it?”

  Nath pointed.

  North of them was the outline of a great stone bridge that stretched out like a fallen limb over the fiery gap. Massive rock columns supported it from the water below.

  “That’s a bridge,” Ben said, gaping. “It must be huge.”

  “It’s dwarven,” Brenwar said. “Some of our finest work in Nalzambor.”

  Nath caught Brenwar’s eye for a moment, but the dwarf moved on. It left an uneasy feeling in him. They made their way within a couple hundred yards of the bridge and stopped. Nath could see soldiers shifting in the darkness of their posts. Odd shapes outlined the tower tops of the bridge that were stark in the night.

  Ben closed his spyglass.

  “There must be thirty soldiers.” He looked at Nath. “Maybe fifty.”

  “We can take them,” Brenwar said.

  Nath rubbed his chin. He had to admit that he hadn’t expected so many. The bridge was long and wide, and during the day it was full of people crossing back and forth. Perhaps they could blend in, but no doubt the soldiers were thorough and checking everybody.

  “Can you get us across?” he said to Bayzog.

  Bayzog huffed. “I can take one, but not another for over a week.” He frowned. “I could summon some bats, perhaps?”

  “No bats!” Brenwar said. “I’ll not trust some winged rodent to carry me over fiery waters. Are you planning on flying the horses over too?”

  “Good point, dwarf,” Bayzog said.

  “I suggest,” Nath said, making his way toward Brenwar and tapping his horse’s chest, “we wait until morning and see what we can use that is inside here.”

  “A potion?” Ben said. His eyes brightened in the darkness. “I wouldn’t mind trying something like that.”

  Brenwar slapped Nath’s hand away.

  “It’s not a toy chest.”

  “Certainly not, but it does make for an interesting experience,” Nath said. “What do you think, Bayzog?”

  “It bears us many options, but I hate to use the magic on such a simple matter. I would just as soon take a longer way around. Exercise caution.” He looked at Nath. “But I support your decision.”

  “I’m with the elf,” Brenwar said.

  “You support me.”

  “No, we don’t use the potions. Last time I took one, it left my stomach turning like a grindstone. Blecht. Take the longer way. Enjoy the journey.”

  Nath turned his attention back to the bridge, squinting. There were plenty of soldiers, and through the hot haze that rose from the river, he couldn’t see what was on the other side. There would be at least as many men. Maybe more. He nudged his horse toward the bridge.

  He could make out the long tips of halberds and spears. Fangs and gritty teeth. There was nothing he’d rather do than charge the bridge and toss those fiends over the edge into the flaming water. But he’d lost enough friends already, and he wasn’t about to lose the ones that were with him now. Still, urgency stirred inside his head. He ignored it.

  “Caution it is, then,” he said, starting to turn. “We go south—”

  He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and froze. Slowly, he turned his head back toward the bridge. One of the tower tops of the bridge moved. A pair of windows spread.

  A dragon dropped from its perch and glided right toward them with fire in its eyes.

  Nath’s words froze on his lips.

  Great Guzan! That thing is big!

  CHAPTER 20

  Far away from Nath, horse hooves splashed through the water of an ordinary creek, making the only notable sound in the ravine. Gorlee’s teeth tingled. He wasn’t used to being a major player in these adventures. He pretty much kept a low profile, only showing up to help out when needed. He scanned the trees for birds and other creatures. Things seemed so quiet, like the moment before a storm. He swallowed and fanned a flying insect from his face.

  They were on foot now, reins in hand. The dwarves, four in back, four in front, all in pairs, had him well protected. It made him feel like a prince or something. Each had a small shield in one hand, an axe, hammer, or mace in the other. All their helmets had been donned the moment they entered the ravine.

  He ran his fingers through his hair. Perhaps I could use one of those.

  Ahead, the creek bent and couldn’t be seen anymore. He could hear the water cascading over the rocks, but nothing more. Usually Nath would lead. His eyes and ears seemed to pick up everything. Brenwar was no slouch either.

  Gorlee sniffed the air.

  It smelled like water, mud, horse, leather, and dwarf. He frowned. He might look like Nath, but he was anything but that right now. Even blindfolded, Nath could find a particular flower among hundreds. Little things like that. Nath did many, and Gorlee hadn’t thought much about them before. Not until now. Without Nath or Brenwar or Bayzog, Gorlee had to admit he felt a bit naked.

  A sword and scabbard bumped against his saddle. He didn’t often fool with weapons. They weren’t needed. He usually relied on his powers. Something crept between his shoulders. He looked around. The dwarves were looking too. He slid the sword free. The blade sounded really loud scraping out of the scabbard.

  Pilpin looked back at him and winked.

  Devliik and another followed the creek around a huge rock that formed a bend and disappeared. Ten feet ahead, Pilpin and another dwarf were waiting on him.

  “I’m coming,” he muttered under his breath.

  From the other side of the rock, a dwarf cried out. A loud splash followed.

  Everyone burst into motion and pushed onward. Pilpin’s pair disappeared; two more dwarves passed Gorlee with weapons hoisted high. He dragged his horse through the creek toward the sound of the skirmish. Blood rushed through his ears.

  “Get off me!” a dwarf cried out.

  Gorlee bustled around the massive boulder, sword ready. The dwarves had gathered at the edge of the creek, where a pool of water had formed. Devliik and his horse were submerged to their necks in the middle. Devliik slung off a rope that had encircled him.

  “I don’t know your rope,” he bellowed. He urged his mount
forward, but it continued to sink. “What manner of creek is this? It’s deep as a river!” His head whipped around, checking the water. “I see stones where there are none.”

  Another dwarf tossed a rope around the horse’s neck and they began to tug.

  “One, two—Heave! One, two—Ho! One, two—Heave!”

  The horse nudged forward. Its hooves found solid footing and surfaced from the pool of water. Water ran out of Devliik’s armor and over the horse. The husky dwarf eyed the pool along with the rest of them.

  Pilpin tossed a stone into the middle. It sank in the clear water and settled only a foot below. All the dwarves were still with weapons ready. Gorlee breathed heavily and felt amazed. There were plenty of treacherous things in Nalzambor. Ways nature preserved itself. Or fed itself, perhaps.

  Devliik said something in dwarven and moved onward.

  “What did he say?” Gorlee said to Pilpin.

  “Avoid the pools.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Is there anything else that needs saying?”

  The dwarves formed columns on the left and right of the creek. Gorlee took the middle of the right column. He scanned the sides of the ravine. Its faces rose steeply for hundreds of feet. He couldn’t help but feel that eyes were watching them from somewhere up there. At any moment, they would be trapped. Hemmed in on one side or the other. But he also had the feeling that Devliik wasn’t worried about a satyr. Not that dwarves would be worried about anything.

  The soft rattle of dwarven armor came to a stop. Gorlee stopped as well. Something cried out ahead like a wounded cat. Slowly, the dwarves proceeded forward. Ahead, the creek water rushed over the rocks, forming another pool. A woman hung onto a vine in the middle. She struggled and splashed. Something deep in the water was pulling her down.

  Her green eyes found the dwarves, and she mewled again.

  Gorlee forced himself up to the pool’s edge. The dwarves had funny looks on their faces. The woman in the pool wasn’t just any kind of woman. She had golden fur and was spotted like a leopard. Her long whiskers rested on the water.

  “My, look at her,” Pilpin said. He looked up at Gorlee. “Have you ever seen such a woman?”

  Nalzambor was huge, and there were plenty of rare creatures that the eyes of commoners had never seen before. In the case of this feline-like woman, he didn’t know.

  “No, not like that.” He squinted. “I’d say we need a closer look.”

  “She’s pretty,” Pilpin said. His hard eyes were wide. He started to wade into the water. Others stomped their boots into the water as well.

  She’s pretty?

  The muscles in Gorlee’s back started to knot. Something wasn’t right. He’d never heard a dwarf call anything pretty before. He scanned the woodland. The trees, bushes, and giant ferns all seemed undisturbed. Everything was pleasant. Normal. The insects and critters chirped. Everything seemed to be in harmony. Even the wind that whistled through the ravine sounded like a flute.

  The dwarves edged closer. Devliik tossed the cat-like woman a rope. Pilpin waded in. Gorlee pulled him back by the shoulder.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Don’t you think she’s pretty? She’s the prettiest I’ve ever seen.”

  Gorlee looked at the woman in the water and scratched his head. “You’re certain? She doesn’t seem like your type.”

  “Will you let go of me?” Pilpin said, jerking away and marching into the water. “I want to help her first. It’s been quite some time since I saw such a fair dwarven maiden.”

  “Dwarven?”

  Gorlee’s stomach began to knot and his forehead beaded in sweat. The ground felt loose beneath him. The horses nickered and stomped backward. Shook their necks. The music of the wind became louder. The woman he saw in the water’s eyes drew him closer.

  This isn’t right. Isn’t right at all.

  His fingers loosened around his sword, and the blade slipped free. The musical breeze licked at his earlobes, urging him toward the water. He took a step closer but kept one hand on the reins.

  “Pilpin,” he said, raising his voice, “I don’t see a dwarf.”

  Pilpin didn’t turn. He kept going.

  The windy music tugged at his ears. Gorlee’s legs slackened. He felt it: magic. Rushing through him. Subtle. Seductive. Dangerous. He cried out to the dwarves, but they heard him not. Their eyes were glossed over. The woman’s face darkened and shifted. Gorlee covered his ears. The woman sneered at him. The water stirred and shifted.

  “Get out!” he yelled.

  Something terrible was about to happen. Spots in the forest began to stir.

  Gorlee’s mind raced. He was Nath Dragon. What would he do? He summoned his magic powers. He couldn’t do most of what Nath could do, but he could do a fine impression of most of it. He sucked in his chest and let out a mighty dragon-like roar until he could roar no more.

  Every dwarven head turned toward him.

  “That’s no dwarven maiden!” He yelled. “It’s a trap! Get out of there, you fools!”

  The dwarves shook their heads and turned back to the woman in the pool. She was gone.

  “Where’d she go?” one dwarf said, wading further in.

  Something jerked him under.

  “What goes?” Devliik cried.

  The woods and water came to life.

  Draykis, scaly and grey, were all over them.

  CHAPTER 21

  The dragon swooped down onto the grass. Nath’s neck tightened. He didn’t fear anything, but he respected danger.

  “Stay back,” he said, dismounting and putting himself between the dragon and the others.

  The dragon was a grey scaler, the biggest he’d ever seen. Twenty feet long. Thirty feet with the tail. He had a crown of four black horns on his head. Hundreds of sharp teeth filled his great mouth. His scales were grey and hard as steel. He was black winged and black tailed.

  Arms wide, Nath approached him.

  “What are you doing?” Brenwar said in a forced whisper. “Get back here.”

  It was too late for that. Nath kept going.

  The dragon’s serpent eyes widened bigger than Nath’s head. Grey scalers made excellent enforcers. Guardians. Hunters. This one probably didn’t want to do anything more than check them out. Maybe kill them if bored. Nostrils the size of his fists snorted and flared. A throat bigger than Nath’s whole body growled.

  The muscles along Nath’s spine knotted up.

  “A moment, please,” Nath said, holding out his hand and speaking Dragonese. He slipped off his cloak, revealing his fully scaled body. The dragon’s great neck reared up over the top of his head, jaws gaping. “You know who I am, don’t you.”

  The grey scaler didn’t speak, but Nath could feel words forming in his mind.

  Yes. The Dragon Prince. Death to the Dragon Prince.

  The moment the dragon had swooped down, Nath had known he would probably be recognized. He was unique, which left him as flatfooted as a shod horse. Their objective was to cross Jordak’s Pass unnoticed. Now any commotion with the dragon would bring the entire regiment from the bridge on them. Any chance of slipping toward the river cities and investigating the mystic shards would be gone. The armies of Barnabus would comb all the hillsides in pursuit of them. Nath would have to try something else.

  “I am your prince,” Nath said.

  You are a cursed prince. A failure. As is your father.

  The dragon blood in Nath’s veins ignited. His claws lashed out across the dragon’s nose.

  “You dare!” The dragon hissed and recoiled. And then in Nath’s mind, he heard, I serve Gorn Grattack. You and all of Dragon Home will as well. Nalzambor is ours.

  The dragon boasted, which wasn’t anything uncommon among dragons. After all, they were the most powerful creatures in Nalzambor. But this dragon was on another level. A different place. Nath could feel him oozing with confidence. Feel his heartbeat thundering behind his mighty breast. This dragon wanted glory—
the glory of bringing down Nath Dragon.

  “Not without me,” Nath said, stepping forward. He poked the dragon’s chest and felt the hot breath behind the scales like a fireplace mantel. “Gorshamishultru…” It was a long word he started quickly that went on and on. You would be wiser to surrender, Nath said to him. Your body is no match for that of a full dragon.

  The dragon stirred. His tail stopped sweeping the grass when Nath finished.

  “So then you submit?”

  He huffed a hot blast of air in Nath’s face.

  It had been more than a hundred years since Nath had heard what he said to the grey scaler. It was an ultimatum. A contest. Dragons were proud creatures. Many times too proud. And their pride could rub one another raw. It would take more than a conversation or a contest of prowess to settle a dispute that might last centuries. His only option was to take a match. A death match.

  “You are no full dragon,” the grey scaler said, sliding his neck from side to side.

  “You hesitate,” Nath said, “so you submit?”

  He didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Nath could hear his heart racing, though.

  And then the grey scaler said, “Death for you it is,” and laid his neck on the grass, pulling back his wings.

  Nath climbed on.

  “What,” Brenwar started, aghast, “is going on?”

  “I’ve offered a Dragon’s Ultimatum,” Nath said.

  “You what?!” Brenwar said. “Get off that dragon, Nath.”

  The grey scaler took several steps, lifted off, and glided over the grasses toward the hilltops.

  Nath took one last glance back at his friends. One expression was as dumbfounded as the next. He took a deep breath and wondered if he’d ever see them again.

  CHAPTER 22

  Clang!

  Crash!

  Splash!

  Dwarves and draykis battled. Gorlee himself battled. The surprise attack was as fierce as it was sudden. Gorlee was at a loss what to do. Right before his eyes, he watched a draykis pin Pilpin underneath the water. Its scaly back faced him.