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

by Craig Halloran

  I’m going to face the high priestess. She’ll kill me the moment she finds out I’m not Nath Dragon. You can pull this off, Gorlee. You have to.

  “Take your time,” Gorlee shouted at the dragon. “My time in the air will be much more splendid than my time back down there.”

  CHAPTER 30

  The road to the river cities was long and wide from the Jordak Bridge, winding through towns and villages for miles on end. But the next town wasn’t for miles, and staying on the road was too dangerous. After an hour of hard running, Brenwar came to a stop. Huffed for breath.

  “I’m not running anymore.”

  Bayzog and Ben came to a stop as well. Ben rubbed his eyes.

  “We need to hide, then,” Bayzog said.

  “Well, we can’t very well hide on this road, can we?” Brenwar shot back. He took in his surroundings. The other side of the Jordak was rolling hills and green meadows. It would be easier to track them through the grass than on a heavily traveled road. He shook his head. “Let’s just wait on them.” He dropped the head of the war hammer to the ground and rested his hands on the handle. “Put an end to them.”

  “Our goal is to remain sight unseen,” Bayzog reminded him. “Otherwise, they’ll be crawling all over the landscape looking for us.”

  “They can’t find us if they’re dead,” Brenwar retorted.

  Ben shuffled over to Brenwar and unhitched Akron from his shoulders.

  Snap. Clatch. Snap.

  The bowstring twirled into place.

  “I’m with Brenwar. We can handle that lot from the bridge.”

  Bayzog’s face lit up. “And the dragon? What if it comes back?”

  Brenwar turned to face him. “Which dragon are you talking about, elf?”

  Bayzog sighed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Dragon will be all right,” Ben said. He patted Fang’s hilt. “He’ll not leave his sword with me for that long.”

  “We need to wait on him anyway,” Brenwar said. “I don’t want to go on without him.”

  “So your plan is to wait for him to come waltzing down the middle of the road. While the armies of Barnabus run us through and over.” Bayzog shook his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a worse dwarven plan before. Why don’t you build us a castle out of the grass while we wait?”

  Brenwar stiffened and pointed his stubby finger.

  “Are you using sarcasm with me, elf? A wizard at that. Making some sort of jest. To a dwarf?”

  Bayzog walked right up on him. “I suppose I am.”

  Brenwar grunted a laugh.

  Ben chuckled.

  Bayzog showed a grin.

  “Good, then,” Brenwar said. “I’m glad it only took you two centuries to find a sense of humor.”

  “And what about the dwarves, then?”

  “We don’t have humor, we have mirth.”

  “In short supply, I’d say,” Ben commented.

  The three of them fell silent, gazing at the long road behind them. Brenwar fully expected Nath to come walking down it at any moment. In truth, however, he had doubt inside his belly. How in the world would Nath Dragon survive a battle with a fully grown grey scaler without a weapon? It angered him. He should be there for Nath. He’d promised Nath’s father he would be.

  “We need to go back for the chest,” Brenwar said.

  “We’d have to walk leagues to the next crossing,” Bayzog reminded him. “It would take days. Listen, assuming Nath survives, he’ll be coming this way anyway. He’ll catch up, eventually. I say we keep going.”

  “The soldiers will catch up with us too, eventually,” Brenwar said. “I say we set up an ambush. After all, they don’t want us. They might want us dead, but they don’t want us.”

  Ben spun around, eyeing the landscape.

  “There’s no good ground here. It’s all open.” He peered down the road. “And I think someone is coming.”

  Brenwar pushed up on his tiptoes. It was dark, but torches could be seen coming their way in the distance. The distant rumble of trotting boots and horse hooves hit his ears.

  “The night still gives us good cover, and the sun will rise on our backs.” He looked back at Bayzog. “It will gives us a fine element for surprise if we time this right.”

  The part-elf wizard nodded.

  “They move slowly. Cautiously.”

  “They are not so eager to find us. Perhaps they fear us.”

  “I’m sure they fear men,” Ben said, smiling.

  They trotted up the road until the sun peeked over the horizon, and then they came to a stop. Behind them, Brenwar could see the sun shining off the dull metal helmets of the soldiers that pursued them. His heart beat harder. His grip on his war hammer tightened.

  Ben and Bayzog took positions on either side of the road and kneeled down in the high grasses. Brenwar stood in the middle of the road, resting the war hammer two-handed on his shoulder. He was angry inside. Nath was gone. Maybe for good. Someone was going to pay, and it might as well be a bunch of orcs.

  “Brenwar,” Bayzog hissed at him, “are you really just going to stand in the middle of the road and greet them like a sailor’s maiden?”

  “You do your thing, elf. I’ll do mine.”

  He could hear the troops coming up the road, but they were still out of sight. Brenwar was on the higher ground. The sun now warmed his back. A banner appeared, rising above the road. The flag of Barnabus. A gold dragon against a red and black background. Next rose a horse and rider, followed by two more.

  Brenwar spat on the ground. He suspected it was the orc they had bartered with before. It was in full armor now. Its shoulders were heavy, covered with muscle under metal. The gnolls were just as big, and there were maybe another score of soldiers behind them. One by one, they appeared over the crest of the hill with hands up and heads down. The sunlight was bright on their metal. And on their ugly faces.

  Brenwar’s black brows furrowed.

  “They’re going to regret coming this way.”

  Brenwar glanced at Ben and nodded.

  The warrior stretched the bowstring along his cheek and released it.

  Twang!

  Like a streak of sunlight, the arrow buried itself in a gnoll rider’s chest, toppling it over so it hit the ground.

  The orc leader ripped its sword from the scabbard and bellowed.

  “Trap! Ride through it!”

  It was a good move. Brenwar had hoped they’d scatter, but instead they lowered their heads and ran right at them.

  Twang!

  Another arrow zipped through the air, catching the second gnoll rider in the leg. Onward the soldiers of Jordak’s Crossing came.

  Thirty yards away, the orc leader locked eyes with Brenwar. It made a nasty grin and thundered his way.

  Brenwar braced himself and set down his hammer.

  The orc let out a triumphant howl.

  “Brenwar,” Ben yelled, “what are you doing?”

  The rugged dwarf clenched his teeth and lowered his shoulder.

  The horse closed in.

  Twenty yards. Ten. Five.

  Crash!

  Brenwar tackled the horse’s leg. The beast and rider plowed over Brenwar and crashed to the ground. Brenwar shook his bearded head and scrambled for his war hammer. He snatched it off the ground.

  “Try to run me over, will you? No one tramples a dwarf!”

  Across from him, the orc rolled back to its feet and hopped up with its blade ready.

  “Fool of a bearded one!” It spat blood on the ground, raised its weapon, and charged.

  Brenwar yelled back and rushed forward.

  The warriors collided, dwarven metal against orcen steel.

  Chang! Chang! Snap!

  The orc’s blade broke in the middle. Brenwar swung his hammer full circle.

  Pow!

  The orc left its feet and was dead before it hit the ground. An angry chorus rose up behind Brenwar. He whirled. Soldiers closed in from all directions. Ben and Bay
zog were not heard or seen.

  “Come at me, then!”

  ***

  Ben kept shooting. If Brenwar wanted to tackle a horse, so be it.

  Akron was a marvel in Ben’s hand. Easy to use and deadly accurate.

  Twang! Zip!

  Twang! Zip!

  A soldier of Barnabus went down, clutching the arrow in its chest. Another soldier died the same way.

  Ben drew another and fired once more.

  Twang! Zip!

  It punched a hole in the metal belly of a gnoll soldier and dropped it to the ground.

  Ben pumped his fist a little. He hated gnolls. They were worse than rabid dogs to him. They were rabid dogs that could talk.

  A howl rose up among the soldiers. One pointed less than twenty yards away.

  “Seems the surprise is over,” Ben said, dropping Akron to the ground and drawing his own sword. Fang still hung on his other hip. He’d used the mystic blade before, long ago, and had not used it since. He hadn’t even tried. It was Nath’s. “Maybe next time.”

  He set his feet in the grass.

  A lizard man charged with a spear.

  Ben spun.

  Chop!

  Hacked its leg.

  Another lizard man followed. It stabbed. Ben jumped. Whack! It lost its tail.

  Something clipped Ben’s leg, spinning him around. He jerked back. A club clipped his head. He saw stars and blood, ducked, and swung back.

  Slash!

  A gnoll fell, holding its wounded belly.

  Ben struck again and again. His sword banged off metal. Cut flesh. Hit bone. But the soldiers hit back.

  Slash! Stab!

  Ben parried and punched.

  The soldiers crowded him. A gnoll dove onto his legs. A lizard man tackled his arms. Down into the high, blood-slicked grasses he went.

  ***

  Madness.

  Bayzog cast his hands over his head and let the first onslaught of magic fly. Bees of bright light erupted from his fingertips. With an angry buzz, they assaulted the faces of the oncoming attackers.

  The soldiers of Barnabus swatted, cried out, fell, and writhed on the ground. They kicked up dust, screamed, and moaned.

  Bayzog backed away. He had stopped a few of them, but more were coming. He needed time to summon his energy. A gnoll burst out of the chaos, snarling and making a straight line for him, spinning a spiked flail over its head.

  Bayzog didn’t have a spell ready to counter.

  I should run.

  He stayed and lowered the Elderwood Staff before him.

  The gnoll slowed to a stop ten paces away, its evil eyes wary.

  “Wizard,” it barked while rattling a necklace of bones on its neck. “Elf. I have no elven trinkets, either.” It barked again and darted straight for Bayzog.

  Bayzog jumped aside. Ducked.

  Whoosh!

  The spiked ball of steel passed over his head.

  The hulking gnoll swung the flail like a toy, knotting up its muscular arms. It struck.

  Bayzog jumped.

  Whoosh!

  The spike ripped through his robes.

  The gnoll barked and laughed. It spun its mace again.

  Bayzog backed up with his staff guarding the front of him.

  “With a single word, I can destroy you,” Bayzog warned.

  The whirling of the flail stopped. The gnoll paused in thought. It rested its big shoulders.

  Bayzog took a breath. Wiped the sweat from his eyes.

  Suddenly, the gnoll wound its arm, flung the flail, and struck him in the belly.

  Bayzog groaned and went down on both knees. Pain exploded in his stomach. He looked up. The gnoll stood over him, holding a dagger. It kicked him in the jaw.

  “I can destroy you as well, and I will.”

  ***

  Bang!

  Down went an orc.

  Bang!

  Down went a lizard man.

  Bang!

  Down went a gnoll.

  Brenwar showed no mercy. He busted up heavy armor. Broke bones like twigs. He and his war hammer were a war machine striking with the fury of a storm. Wreaking havoc on enemies.

  “Had enough dwarf yet?”

  Bang!

  A gnoll’s dented helmet flew from its head and bounced down the road. Wide eyed, the gnoll started to run, teetered, and fell to the ground.

  Chest heaving and bleeding from several wounds, Brenwar scoured the area for his friends. He didn’t see them. He saw something else: a shadow from the skies above on the grounds below. He looked up.

  “Bloody beards.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Gorlee shivered. His dragon skin was thick, but the chill winds still bit. He covered his ears and puffed misty breath. The picturesque scene below him got old after the first few hours. Snow-capped mountains and lush valleys covered in shadows or golden sunlight, all of it became a blur. Now he lay down on his back, glancing up at the dragon’s belly.

  I guess they’re living armor, those scales.

  Thousands of hard scales covered every inch of the dragon from gut to neck. Clean rows of bronze, shifting and rippling in rhythm with the dragon’s mighty wings. The dragon flew effortlessly through the air, holding Gorlee in the heavy cage like a fish in an eagle’s talons. Gorlee, always fascinated with dragons, fought the urge to reach up and touch its great claws. Thick and heavy like wrought iron, with tips as sharp as razors. Gorlee envisioned the dragon ripping rocks asunder.

  Please don’t try to talk to me.

  It was a concern. Dragons could talk to dragons. Sense things about one another that others could not. Dragonese was their language, and Gorlee didn’t know it. He recalled a few words Nath had said, at best. He sat up and pulled his knees into the chest.

  Wherever I’m going, what to do when I get there?

  He sank his head between his knees and tried to ignore the moaning in his stomach.

  Cold and hungry is no way to live.

  The dragon jerked the cage. Gorlee bounced across the floor and into the bars. He caught the dragon gazing at him. A smile lifted over its oversized teeth. It shook the cage again. Gorlee’s head dashed across the bars. He rubbed the lump on his head.

  Really? As if I’m not going to suffer when I get wherever I’m going.

  The dragon turned away and spread its wings wide. A rush of wind caught Gorlee. They were descending, and fast. He pressed his face to the bars and held on. A series of tiny structures appeared below, the makeup of a town. Downward they drifted in a large winding circle. Gorlee could see the square made up of farms and roads below. What he thought were small streams turned into rivers. Huts became villages, towns, and cities.

  Is that what I think it is?

  He saw the tops of large buildings now. They looked like toys beneath him. No wonder dragons look down on us. They’re used to being so far above us.

  Gorlee’s heart raced. The once-small buildings became massive. The containment of the cage and the freedom of the air gave him a false sense of security, but he now realized that peace was about to come to an end. The evil world was ready to greet him once again, and he had no idea what to expect.

  Suddenly, the dragon dipped, rattled the cage, and snorted.

  Gorlee clutched at the bars. “Don’t drop me now, you terror!”

  He heard a rumble in its great throat.

  Maybe that’s what a dragon laughing sounds like.

  He turned his attention downward. In seconds, the city was much closer than it had first appeared.

  Narnum?

  Gorlee didn’t spend much time in the great cities. He preferred the isolation of the less-traveled paths and places, but Narnum, the Free City, was certainly unforgettable. Tall and magnificent towers jutted from the ground and reached for the clouds. The roads were wide and numerous. People moved like tiny ants below, working on more great structures, heavy stone and metal towers like he’d never seen before.

  What is going on down there?


  Slowly, the dragon spun in a tighter circle. Gorlee picked up the outlines of more dragons roosting on rooftops like birds. Some looked right at him and some did not bother, instead casting their eyes downward, warding the people below like hawks warded their prey. Gorlee felt his chest crush. Freedom was gone from the Free City.

  The dragon beat its mighty wings and set Gorlee’s cage down on a dais in the middle of the roof of the tallest building. Its great claws unclamped, and without a final glance, off it went, up into the sky, disappearing into the grey clouds.

  Gorlee spun around in his cage. The rooftop was huge. Big enough to hold hundreds of people, maybe more than a thousand. There were benches, railings, and gardens, but no people, leaving him alone with a view of the world in all directions.

  He checked the rope on his wrists that coiled around his legs and neck. It was still snug. Uncomfortable.

  Gives me a reason not to talk, anyway. But how will I ask for food?

  Thunder rumbled overhead. The stiff winds whistled through his cage bars and the building parapets. Gorlee focused on an entryway that was well concealed in the distance. He didn’t notice any others.

  One way up and one way down.

  His eyes drifted to the outer wall.

  Well, maybe two ways down.

  He made his way over to the cage door and played with the lock. He picked at the intricate key slot with his claws.

  I fear this is beyond me. The lock clattered against the bars and he backed off.

  He found it strange that Faylan had the key and she wasn’t here. There must be another that someone else has. The high priestess, perhaps. He tried to picture what that woman would be like. Would she be a large, demonic hag or something else entirely?

  Minutes passed. Dark clouds drifted overhead. The heavy rain came with bitter wind.

  Great.

  An agonizing hour passed with Gorlee’s thoughts racing every minute.

  Perhaps they’re on to me.

  Maybe they wait for me to change.

  Or try to escape.

  They’re trying to starve me into extraordinary feebleness.

  Thunder boomed. Lightning flashed. His innards groaned and jumbled.

  Must it be so miserable?

  He huddled and rested his back against a corner. Closed his eyes and shivered. Hours went by one after the other. The pouring rain brought cold, not comfort.