“Good for what?” Pilpin replied.
Devliik stood up and slapped Pilpin in the shoulder.
“We may have missed our opportunity to kill one satyr, but we won’t miss another.” Devliik limped back over to his horse and climbed on. “Pilpin, you’re coming with me. Two of you take our brother back for a proper burial.”
The grimness in Pilpin’s chest eased. One satyr would certainly lead to another. One trap had been sprung by the pipe-playing fiends, but would there still be another? There’s only one way to find out. Pilpin snapped his reins and rode with a slight smile on his face.
“We’ll make them bury twenty of theirs for every one of ours!”
All the dwarves huffed in the rain.
“Morgdon!”
CHAPTER 25
Nath felt strange. In a twisted way, the ride on the grey scaler’s back reminded him of the days when he had ridden on the back of his father. The moment of reflection stirred him. Sometimes they’d spent days flying over Nalzambor without even landing. It was then that Nath had seen some of the most incredible things he ever saw. Now it all seemed long forgotten.
I can’t let you down, Father. I won’t let you down anymore.
He could feel the might underneath the scales of the dragon’s back, the heart thumping like a blacksmith’s hammer underneath, the power of the grey scaler’s beating wings that lifted them higher and faster with a single flap. Nath took a deep breath and tried to block out the pain that still bit in his side. The dagger’s cursed wound had not fully healed. It still felt like rusty nail in his ribs.
The dragon made a slow spiral into a clearing on top of the hills and landed.
Nath slid off his neck and backed away.
“It’s not too late to succumb,” he said, stretching out his arms. “You can fly away and never be seen again.”
The dragon’s eyes were dark with fury. He huffed a burst of flame and a cloud of smoke.
Today the son of the King Dragon dies. And soon the king will as well.
His black tail lashed out.
Thwack!
Nath jumped back. The tail clipped his chest, spinning him around and hurling him into the trees. Nath got up just in time to see the tail striking again, sweeping across the grove like a striking snake. Nath hopped over the top and dashed away into the woods.
Be smart, Nath!
Without a weapon, he knew it would take more than brute force to slay the dragon. All of his cunning as well. Nath could hear the grey scaler’s voice in his head.
You flee like a rabbit? The Prince of Dragons … a coward.
The words stung a little, but his ribs hurt more. Nath gathered himself behind a great tree. Waited. There was one rule in a Dragon’s Ultimatum. One must be vanquished. How long that took was entirely a different matter. Battles were known to take hours, days, or even weeks. Still, Nath had friends that needed him and other pressing matters to deal with.
I see I have erred, the grey scaler said in Nath’s mind. The woodland will delay your death and my flight to glory. The dragon pushed his way through the woods, snapping and uprooting small trees with his weight, sniffing and snorting. I can smell you. You can’t hide forever.
Nath could feel the grey scaler’s presence. Fiery breath came from the far side of the tree. Out of the corner of Nath’s eye, he saw the dragon’s long tongue lick out.
I bet you’ll taste good. It’s a shame I will not eat you. A nibble when you’re dead, perhaps, the dragon said in Nath’s mind, licking his tongue out again, on the other side of the tree this time.
Nath snatched the tongue with his claws and jerked it with all his might.
The dragon’s neck snapped back, freeing the tongue and howling a painful roar.
Nath moved behind the distracted dragon, took a deep breath, and burst out with his own flames into the scaly haunches of the dragon.
The grey scaler bucked and roared, louder this time, splintering and felling more trees.
Yes! Nath thought, I’ve wounded him. Hurt him. Angered him for certain. Nath raced back into the center of the grove with his dragon heart pumping, feeling like his entire body was on fire. I can do this! He spread his arms wide. “What are you waiting for, dragon? I’m here, and unlike you, I’m not scorched! Perhaps it is I that will be sampling you when this is all over.”
The dragon stormed out of the forest, eyes angry but wary. Without warning, a stream of fire shot out.
Nath twisted away. Flames still caught his back. He cried out. His ears caught the dragon’s paws digging up the earth and bounding toward him. He scrambled away and dashed headlong for the forest. A blast of fire caught him square in the back, driving him to the ground.
Nath screamed.
Fire was one thing. Dragon fire was quite another. Dragon scales or not, the fire hurt. Nath twisted himself onto his back just as the dragon’s paw came down.
Whap!
Pinned by the waist to the ground, Nath felt the dragon’s head butting his back.
It’s over for you, human!
“No,” Nath managed to say, “it’s over for you. I have you just where I want you.”
The dragon’s head leaned back. I don’t believe so.
Buy time. Buy time. Buy time, Nath thought.
A huge, clawed paw began to crush him with raw power.
Nath took a short breath and breathed fire on the claw.
The dragon jerked Nath up, and slammed him onto the ground. You shall pay for that!
The dragon’s neck reared back—maw full of teeth open—and struck like a serpent.
Fighting the pain, Nath leapt away. Got to finish this! he thought.
Everything hurt, from his head to his toes. The grey scaler was pummeling him like a cat pummels a rodent. Nath dug his claws into the dragon’s hide and climbed onto his back.
What are you doing, flea?
Nath jumped onto the grey scaler’s head and locked his hands on the horns.
The head shook like an angry bull’s.
Nath held on with all his strength. He was like a tick now. I’m not coming off.
The dragon’s tail lashed out and beat his back, jarring him blow by blow.
“I’m not letting go, dragon!” Nath yelled.
The dragon’s wings expanded and flapped like gusty winds. Up into the air they went.
We’ll see about that!
Higher and higher they went, swooping, twisting, turning, and barrel rolling through the air.
Your arms will tire long before my wings will.
Nath’s arms already ached. It was one thing to fight something weaker than you, but quite another to fight an opponent much stronger. What am I doing? I can’t hold on much longer. He didn’t have a weapon. He had nothing but the horns of the dragon in his grip. Each was three feet long and could gore a stone golem to death. That’s it!
Summoning all his strength and power, Nath pushed one horn and pulled another. Muscles bulged in his arms and neck. His dragon heart pounded like thunder.
What are you doing? the grey scaler cried. Stop it!
Nath heaved and hoed.
Snap!
A dragon horn broke off in his grip. Nath raised it over his head, and like a spear, he jammed it between the dragon’s neck and wing.
The dragon’s entire body shuddered, then stiffened. The wings went limp. The two of them spiraled toward the ground. At the last possible second, Nath leapt off.
Crash!
The dragon lay in a heap on the ground, chest still rising and falling, wings crushed underneath.
Nath forced himself up to his feet and staggered toward the dragon’s great belly.
Huge eyes rolled over on him. You truly are the son of the King Dragon, but I don’t wish you well. There was the rasping sound of fires stoking.
Nath plunged the horn into the dragon’s heart, and his fire died.
***
It was almost morning when Nath found his way to the camp where he’d left his friends. Everything hurt,
but he lived. He eyed the dried blood on the dragon’s horn. I can’t use this. It’s sacrilege. He tossed the horn into the burning Jordak River.
With a sigh, he hobbled back to where he last stood with his friends. Even the horses are gone. He knelt and surveyed the land. The tracks of many people were on the ground. He got up, started walking, and tripped over something unseen.
“What in the name of Dragon Home is this?”
He reached out and felt a hard object. It was Brenwar’s chest, covered in the Cloth of Concealment.
He rubbed his aching head. Eyed the bridge.
“How in Narnum am I going to get across that bridge and find them?”
CHAPTER 26
Gorlee’s backside was sore. They’d ridden mile after mile, league after league. The sack over his head was suffocating. For the first time, he smelled and tasted his own sweat, which dripped from his head. He wasn’t even sure if he’d ever sweated before. He’d never felt so miserable.
Is this what heroes do?
He had plenty of time to think. Plan. Scheme. But he was exhausted. Blinded by the sack, the only comfort he had was the pounding rain that came and went. He could feel the sun between the clouds sometimes on his face and back. Sometimes that only made the stuffy air worse. Everything was bad, but at least he lived.
Suffer. I guess heroes suffer. Not sure I want to be a hero anymore.
Wrists tied, fingers aching, he kept a tight grip on the saddle. The satyr woman, Faylan, didn’t speak much. Sometimes he wondered if she’d left him altogether, only to hear her bark an order or scold a draykis.
And to think, if I don’t hear her, I miss her. I actually miss her. That’s a sick thing.
Faylan was all he had. The link between him and the world. The draykis were something different. Part dragon. Part man. Part living and dead. They made his skin crawl. They smelled like death. Colorful conversation was out.
Who’d have thought I’d miss all that dwarven grunting and frowning?
It wasn’t all bad, however. Gorlee had hope. But he couldn’t imagine what this situation would be like to a person that didn’t. The armies of Barnabus treated plenty of people the way they were treating him. Moved people from place to place in caged wagons. It was horrible, all the things he’d seen since the takeover started. The desolate. The desperate. The depraved. There was no hope for them except people like him, the dwarves, the elves, Legionnaires, Bayzog, and Nath Dragon. Those numbers seemed to be dwindling, though. And in his case, he could shape-change and make a run for it the moment the opportunity presented itself. At least, he could if he got out of his mystic bonds, if only for a moment.
Have to stick it out. Do something meaningful. Help the cause.
He wanted to change. Be more comfortable in the saddle. He’d gotten used to riding, but not so long and never blinded, suffocating, or with his wrists bound. For the first time in his life, his back ached and his muscles were sore. It made him wonder what race made for the most comfortable riders. He rode often as a dwarf, as their bodies were durable and hardy, but the lithe frames of elves always seemed at ease in the saddle. It was hopeless, though. Any change, and those cords would still constrict him. It left him feeling helpless and afraid.
How much longer can I suffer? Your first significant plan might have been your worst plan, Gorlee.
The daylight slowly dimmed through the sack, and eventually his horse came to a stop. He could still sense the presence of the draykis holding the reins, and there were other sounds farther ahead.
“This is far enough,” he heard the voice of Faylan say. “Get him down.”
A powerful arm shoved him out of the saddle. He landed hard on the ground and cracked his head on a rock, drawing bright spots and a burst of pain.
Faylan chuckled. “Maybe you draykis aren’t so bad after all. Now get him up and follow me.”
“Get up,” a draykis said.
Gorlee made it to his knees and started to rise to his feet.
A heavy foot slammed into his back, sending him to the ground again. He wanted to scream.
“Enough of that,” Faylan intervened. “We need to get moving. I’m certain you’ll get a chance to play with him later. Or at least get to watch something else play with him. It’ll depend on what the priestess wants done with him.”
“What about the horse?” a draykis said.
“I’ll let you and your kind decide. I’m not sure if horse meat tastes good to you or not.”
“No!” Gorlee blurted out. Instantly, the cords constricted on his throat. Urk! He couldn’t breathe. He fell back to his knees.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!” Faylan laughed. “It’s always good to see Nath Dragon on his knees. Get used to that position of submission.”
Gorlee could see her in his mind. Her stout frame with her hands on her hips. It infuriated him.
“Now get up,” she said. “I can’t have you crawling on your hands and knees already. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”
CHAPTER 27
Jordak’s Crossing. The framework of the stone-and-iron bridge was nothing short of enormous. Spectacular. Ancient. Foreboding. Bayzog sweated. The heat from the fiery river below made all his clothes stick to his body. It was humid. Hot. Nasty. The enemies that led them from one side to the other had never smelled worse, either. He fought the urge to cover his nose.
You’re a goblin, remember?
And that was what bothered him. The potion. Normally, the enchanted liquid would last a day, maybe longer, but in this case it had been split three ways. Morning approached. If anything, they maybe had an hour. Probably less. And it had already taken half an hour to get across the bridge.
What do I do when we change?
He held the Elderwood Staff close to his chest. It didn’t look like much now, but it gave him comfort. He ran through an inventory of spells in his mind. I know what I can do. But what will they do?
Brenwar and Ben stood nearby. They weren’t the worst pair of goblins he’d ever seen, but they weren’t the best either. Their yellow eyes were watching all around, and their ruddy fingers fidgeted with their weapons. The orcen soldier had left them under the guard of the lizard men minutes earlier and had taken their horses into the darkness of another campsite.
Bayzog wandered closer to Brenwar. The lizard men eyed him but remained still with their spears crossed over their chests and tongues flickering out of their mouths occasionally. He spoke in Goblin to Brenwar.
“This magic will not last much longer.”
Brenwar’s goblin brows lifted and he said, “Good, then we can start killing them.”
“Hush, goblins,” a lizard man hissed.
“Hush yourself,” Brenwar spat back in Goblin.
The lizard man lowered its spear on Brenwar’s chest.
Brenwar slapped it away. “I’ll make new boots from those scales of yours and a necklace with your teeth, snake belly.”
“Quiet,” Bayzog said to Brenwar in Goblin. He stepped in front of the spear and pushed Brenwar back. “Sorry,” he said in the common tongue.
The lizard man’s tongue flickered, and it stepped back. Suddenly, the lizard men snapped to attention. The orc leader approached, swords rattling on its wide hips. It stopped and tossed a small sack that Brenwar snatched out of the air.
“That’s your payment,” the orc said, “Now you go.”
Bayzog could sense a smile behind the orc’s throaty voice.
“What’s this?” Brenwar said in Common. “Coppers and a few silvers? That’s insulting.”
“Perhaps you feel our forces are being unfair … little goblin?”
“We had a price arranged already,” Bayzog said. He had to sell it. Goblins were just as greedy as anyone else in Nalzambor, and they weren’t bad negotiators, either. He snatched the sack away from Brenwar and tossed it to the orc soldier. “We’ll have the steeds back or you’ll bring us back twenty times that.”
The orc’s big chin bobbed back and forth, and it
showed some rotting teeth. It pulled out two smaller sacks and tossed them over.
“No more negotiating. Be on with you.”
Bayzog checked the bags. It wasn’t enough to cover the cost of a donkey, but that didn’t matter at the moment. Moving on did. He tossed one sack to Brenwar and one to Ben. Something caught his eye. Brenwar’s beard was growing.
“We go!” Bayzog said with anger. “But I’ll let my buyers from Barnabus know about this!” He pointed to Ben and Brenwar and started to head up the road. “Come, goblin brothers!”
“I’ll certainly not be going without more gold for those horses,” Brenwar argued back. “Now give me back my horses or give me more money.”
Bayzog wanted to take his staff and whack Brenwar in the head, but he should have known. Dwarves were as fierce as negotiators as they were as fighters. Dwarves parting with their possessions was a serious matter. Sleeping with a snoring bugbear would have been easier.
“Come, brothers!” Bayzog demanded.
Ben came, but Brenwar ignored him. He was almost on the orc’s toes when the dwarf’s beard started growing faster.
“Say!” the orc said with its eyes popping open. “What’s going on with that face of yours?”
“What do you mean?” Brenwar said. He followed the orc’s eyes and looked down. Filled his fist with a handful of hair. “Oh….”
“Yer not no goblin,” the orc roared. Its meaty neck turned toward Bayzog. “What are you?”
Bayzog felt his limbs stretch taller and taller. All the lizard men hissed. He locked eyes with the orc and said, “Yes, I am an elf, orc.” He raised his staff over his head, closed his eyes, and yelled, “Gustoovanleeght!”
A sunburst brightened the sky.
Shock and dismay shouted from the lips of the orc and lizard men.
Brenwar swung his hammer in devastating fashion.
Crack! Bang! Whop!
The orc soldier went down. Several blinded lizard men screeched.
“I can’t see,” Ben cried out.
Bayzog took his hand. “Come.” He led them down the roads into the woods. Brenwar’s heavy footsteps were right behind them.
The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) Page 72
