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

by Craig Halloran

  “Please have a seat, Nath. Eat with me.”

  “I’m not hungry.” He took a place at the table and pushed a plate of steaming food away.

  “Interesting,” she said, placing her cloth napkin on her lap. She took a sip of wine. “Not drinking either, I imagine.”

  “I’m fine.” His stomach rumbled.

  Her eyebrows lifted. “Are you sure about that?”

  “Probably some fish I must have eaten too fast.”

  “Fish?” She tapped her fingernail on the glass goblet. “All right, then.”

  “Selene, what is this all about? You summoned me, after all, not I you. As a matter of fact, I’ve hardly seen you in days.” He draped his elbow over the back of his chair. “Why is that?”

  With a look of sadness, she scooted her plate away, rested her elbows on the table, and locked her fingers together. “Nath, I’ve been avoiding something.”

  “Is that why you march this army in circles?”

  “So you’ve noticed.”

  “I know the land as well as anyone.” He looked at his clawed fingers. “So why is that? Hmmm? I think you are avoiding Gorn Grattack.”

  She raised her head. “Why would you think that?”

  “We’ve had many conversations, Selene. And you’ve made it pretty clear that you don’t care so much for him. I seem to recall you mentioning that the two of us could defeat him.”

  “Oh,” she said with a small smile, “did I say that?”

  “You know you did,” he said. “And I believed you.”

  “Believed?”

  Careful what you say, Nath. She still has to believe she has you duped.

  “Yes. Selene, I think you felt we could take Gorn down together, but now … well, now you doubt me. After all, I can’t even turn into a dragon, and I showed mercy to that rose blossom that wanted to kill me.” He shrugged. “Maybe you fear I don’t have the killer instinct needed to carry out a fight with the likes of Gorn—”

  She held up her palm. “Let’s not say his name too many times. His name evokes attention.”

  “I see. So, am I right?”

  “You are wise as a serpent.”

  “Of course, we still have my father’s forces to contend with. They are liable to make another attempt on your life, and we can’t let that happen. Not if we’re going after, well, you know who.”

  Selene stared at him with silence. Finally, she said, “I admit I am surprised.”

  Not as surprised as I am. I can’t believe she’s swallowing this.

  ***

  They marched onward, mile after mile, league after league. Nath and Gorlee rode on horseback side by side, Gorlee’s lips silent under the ominous metal helm that he wore. Behind them was the rest of the army, troops numbering in the thousands now, their bootsteps splashing through sloppy mud holes. The heavy rain rang off their metal armor. It made for a dreary sound, creating an unforgiving itch down Nath’s spine.

  Am I a fool, rushing headlong into the mouth of Gorn Grattack?

  And there was Selene.

  Why would I believe anything she said? She lied every time before. Does she really want to face Gorn Grattack now?

  Faith urged him forward. He didn’t know why, but he had to move on. Confront his fears. Face Gorn Grattack and save the world or doom it. He’d been looking inward for quite some time. Perhaps that was his biggest problem: fear of failure.

  Am I to let the world down the same as I did my father?

  It ate at him, the thought of not seeing his father again—nor Dragon Home. Nor any of his friends, for that matter.

  Guzan! I wish Brenwar were here. He’d be fired up for this final battle.

  He glanced at Gorlee.

  At least I’ll have one friend to witness my death. I hope it’s a grand funeral.

  CHAPTER 6

  “Hit ’em!” Brenwar yelled. He hefted up a rock as big as himself. “Now!” With a heave, he hurled the huge missile through the air.

  Beside him, Ben nocked an exploding arrow, took aim, and fired.

  Twang!

  Coming right for them was a hull dragon, bright green and orange scaled, more than thirty feet in height, stomping through the valley.

  Brenwar’s boulder rocked it in the jaw.

  Ben’s arrow skewered its neck.

  Boom!

  The massive monster staggered backward and let out an ear-splitting roar.

  Ben fired again.

  Boom!

  Brenwar ripped another hunk out of the ground and said, “Quit showing off!” He chucked it. The rock smashed off the monster’s nose. “Perfect hit!”

  With an important look on his face, Pilpin picked up a smaller rock and threw it at the hull.

  Around Ben’s arrow, the hull sucked in a mouthful of air.

  “Uh oh,” Ben said, “here it comes!”

  “Bayzog!” His head whipped around. “Where are you, elf?”

  A bluish-green light glowed to life inside the dragon’s great maw.

  Brenwar and Ben glanced at one another.

  Pilpin made as if to advance on the hull.

  “Take cover!” Brenwar yelled, snatching Pilpin by the collar.

  “Where?” Ben said, looking around.

  The hull dragon’s scales charged with light. Mystic fire dripped from its jaws.

  Bayzog dropped from the sky with the Elderwood Staff in hand. “Get down!” he commanded.

  Whooooooosh!

  A firestorm of energy erupted from the dragon’s mouth.

  With a wave of Bayzog’s hand, a great wall of yellow mystic energy formed, shielding them all. The torrential flames sizzled angrily against the wall. Sparks and specks of bright energy burst in the air. Bayzog’s stern face beaded in sweat.

  Brenwar could feel the intense heat through his armor. “Get out of there, elf, before it roasts you alive!”

  The geysers of flames came on. The shield started to pop and crack.

  “Run!” Bayzog said. “Run!”

  “I’m not running!” Brenwar picked up his war hammer. “Forward. Onward,” he said, still holding Pilpin back by the collar. He wound the hammer up, spinning it like a pinwheel.

  The shield crackled and wobbled. Bayzog drifted to the ground. Flames spilled through the shattered holes, setting fire to his lily-white robes.

  “Mrurumrah Hooooooooooo!” Brenwar bellowed. Then, with all of his bracer-enhanced might, he let the ancient hammer fly. It burst through the shield and straight through the flames. A great clap of thunder popped the air and shook the ground.

  Kra-boooooooom!

  Bayzog’s shield dissipated, and the dragon’s fiery breath was gone, leaving only a smoky mist that covered almost everything.

  Somewhere in the mist, the hull dragon made an awful moan, and a tremendous thud shook the ground.

  Brenwar scurried forward and lifted Bayzog back up to his feet.

  “I better not have lost my hammer.”

  Bayzog dusted off his robes. “I didn’t think dwarves ever lost anything.”

  “Hrmph,” Brenwar and Pilpin both said.

  The four of them stood on the cliff’s edge in silence. A stiff breeze cleared the air, revealing the monstrous form of the hull dragon collapsed on the earth. Trees and branches were crushed beneath it.

  “Do you think you killed it?” Ben said, leaning over the edge.

  “Why don’t you go down there and tickle it?” Brenwar said. “Or pinch its scales, maybe.”

  The great monster didn’t stir, not in the slightest. It was tons of scales and muscle, with great armored fins on its back, wingless and formidable. Brenwar looked at the bracers on his wrists, the ones that Balzurth had gifted to him. They pulsed with an eerie yellow light. It gave him a rush. Filled him with power. With the war hammer and the bracers, he felt like he could take out an entire mountain. With the hull dragon down, he practically had.

  Filling his lungs full of air, he pounded his chest and let out a tremendous bellow.
<
br />   “Hoooooooooooooooooooo!”

  “What are you doing?” Ben said, covering his ears. “Are you trying to wake it?”

  Brenwar’s great voice continued to fill the valley as he broke out in song.

  “Home of the Dwarves! Morgdon! Home of the dwarves! Morgdon! We have the finest steel and ale! Our weapons will never fail! Morgdon!”

  “Look,” Bayzog said, pointing down at the great dragon.

  Brenwar stopped and looked.

  The hull dragon was moving.

  “By my beard!” His brows buckled as his eyes scanned for his war hammer. “Fetch my weapon, mage!” he yelled at Bayzog.

  The dragon snorted a blast of smoke and let out an angry groan.

  “He looks mad, Brenwar,” Ben said, loading up Akron. “I don’t think he likes your singing.”

  “Aw, shut it, human,” Brenwar said, scraping a hunk of stone out of the earth. The sound of hooved feet caught his ears, and he stopped.

  Shum and Hoven galloped by, holding up spears at least eight feet long. Dragon Needles.

  “Don’t you dare kill my dragon!” Brenwar shouted, but they were gone.

  Each Roamer leapt off his horse and climbed up the dragon. Without hesitation, they rammed their Dragon Needles into the dragon’s armored chest. The tips pierced the thick hide and plunged straight into the heart.

  The dragon’s bright eyes glared with intensity. It lurched a few times, but then the eyes went dim.

  Brenwar was furious. In a rush, he stormed down the hillside and greeted the Roamers alongside the dragon, shaking his fist at them.

  “That was my dragon!”

  Shum twirled his Dragon Needle around—once, twice, three times—shrinking it. Looking over his shoulder, he said, “You can still have it. Just so long as you remember it was us who killed it.”

  “Why you pointy eared, fat—”

  Shum lowered the tip of his spear in Brenwar’s face. “Watch what you say, dwarf.”

  Brenwar slapped it away. “Don’t ever stick that stick in my face again, pot belly!” He stormed away and scoured the valley until he got his hands back on his war hammer. He hugged it to his chest and stepped alongside the head of the hull dragon. Its magnificent horn was cracked off at the top of its head, which had a dent in it. “You did that, not them,” he said to the war hammer. “Dragon Needles? Pah.”

  CHAPTER 7

  “No smiles? No joy?” Sasha said. “You men should be happy. You saved another town.”

  Brenwar and Pilpin each snorted a grunt. Shum and Hoven remained expressionless, and Bayzog’s face was creased in concentration.

  “I’m happy,” Ben said, tossing some firewood into the smoking pit. “Who wouldn’t be, after surviving a battle with a monstrous dragon? Woo, I’m relieved!” He stirred the fire with a stick and rubbed his beard. “Don’t pay any mind to those sour faces over there. Especially the bearded ones.”

  “I’d be happy, too, Mother,” Rerry said, stepping out of the woodland and dropping a stack of sticks on the ground, “if I’d gotten a few licks in on that hull dragon.” He drew his sword. Lightning-quick strokes cut the air. Swish. Swish. Swish. Swish. He slammed the blade back inside his scabbard. “But again I missed it, thanks to Samaz. I can’t always be his keeper, you know.”

  Bayzog spoke up. “You did well, Son. It was your duty.”

  “Does it always have to be my duty? After all, he’s older. He should be watching over me and not me over him. I sicken of it, Father. I want to fight, not sit watching Glum Face all the time.”

  Bayzog lifted his eyes to the sky, shaking his head. The stars and moon twinkled behind the drifting clouds, but that wasn’t all. Winged silhouettes drifted through the sky, sending a chill through him. He noticed Shum and Hoven glancing upward as well. “Sasha, how about you conceal these flames?”

  Warming her hands, she was just about to sit down beside him when she paused and kissed him on the head. “I’d love to.”

  She scratched up a handful of dirt from the ground, rubbed it in her hands, and began muttering a quick incantation. Tossing the dirt into the air, where it sparkled bright with energy, she said, “Azzah!”

  A dimness formed over them, stretching from tree limb to tree limb.

  “Well done,” Bayzog said. He took her by the hand and kissed her. “I couldn’t do better myself.”

  “I know,” she giggled as she took her place beside him. She clasped her warm hands around his. “Some things take a woman’s touch.”

  “Like your cooking,” Ben piped in. “Please don’t let Brenwar and Pilpin make supper again. It tasted like baked bark.”

  Pilpin tossed a metal pot in the fire and chomped his teeth. “You cook, then. We don’t need as much food as you anyway, do we Brenwar?”

  Brenwar groaned in agreement.

  Rerry plucked the pot out of the fire and tossed it back and forth until the metal cooled, saying, “I’ll make it. Something with some elven zeal will lift these dour spirits.” He patted his belly. “And I’m too hungry to wait for all this bickering to end.” He walked away with a sigh.

  Bayzog could feel something he didn’t like: pressure. There was fatigue in everyone’s movements. Heavy concern in their faces. None more so than Brenwar’s. Losing his charge, Nath Dragon, had unsettled the ever-stout dwarf. He’d been edgy ever since Nath took things into his own hands. It left everyone uncertain.

  “How much farther, Shum?” Bayzog said.

  The ranger was sharpening his elven blade with a rune-faced whetstone while Hoven hummed a gentle tune. “A few more days. You’ll see. The land starts to decay. Darken. Leaves fall from the trees out of season. I assume there’ll be more encounters on our way. Let’s hope we can avoid most of them.”

  “That hull dragon was unavoidable, that much is certain,” Ben said. “It was its own city. Do you think there will be more hulls? I’m running low on exploding arrows.”

  “Then take better aim with them,” Brenwar growled. “Unless Bayzog can conjure up more.”

  Bayzog shook his head.

  “Oh,” Ben continued, “maybe I need some practice. Why don’t you put an apple on your head and let me shoot it?”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Other than it being a shame to waste a good piece of fruit, why yes, I think I would.” Ben chuckled.

  Brenwar folded his arms over his chest and said, “Pah. All you do is waste arrows and your breath.”

  Pilpin barked a laugh.

  Bayzog tuned them out. They’d gone on like this for hours, but it wasn’t the worst thing. It kept an edge about them, and they needed that. It had taken Sasha some time, but she’d gotten used to it. He squeezed her hand. She looked over and smiled at him. Regardless of the darkness, doubt, and despair that surrounded them, she seemed happy.

  “I’d better go check on Samaz,” he said. “It’s been awhile. Would you like to come along?”

  She stroked his long black hair, rubbed his back, and said, “No. I’ll help Rerry prepare our supper. He’s a horrible cook, but he tries. You go. Take all the time you need with our quieter son.”

  “Save me some stew.” He patted her knee and departed.

  ***

  Samaz sat cross legged out on the end of a rocky crag. The stiff breeze bristled his short black hair and played with his robes, which were snug around his body. He didn’t turn as Bayzog approached. Instead, his chin was tilted up and his eyes were glassy and dreamy.

  Of all the things I’ve dealt with, this always seems the most strange.

  Samaz had always been like this. He’d sit up in his bed, late at night, eyes open, staring at nothing yet everything.

  I’d love to see what’s in that mind of his.

  Quietly, Bayzog eased down into sitting position. It was best not to disturb Samaz from his slumbers. He’d broken Rerry’s wrist for it once. It was no wonder the brothers bickered so much and Rerry resented him.

  Bayzog crossed his legs the sa
me as Samaz, closed his eyes, and relaxed. They used to do this all the time, have long whiles of peace and quiet. It soothed him, and he was certain it brought comfort to Samaz as well. His thick-set son, though aloof and distant, no doubt knew he was there. Samaz had amazing intuition. Rerry could never sneak up on him, nor beat Samaz at hide and seek, either.

  The crickets chirped, and the distant pixies played. Bayzog could feel his elven roots stretching out and acclimating to the sound of the woods: the rustling of branches, hooves that scurried through the night. He’d gotten more in tune with his elven roots over the past twenty-five years, and it had been good. He started to breathe easy. His taut shoulders relaxed. He became one with his son. One with nature.

  Moments went by.

  “Father,” Samaz said, softly.

  Bayzog opened his eyes, turned, and faced his son. Samaz’s features were covered in sweat, and his dark eyes were wide. Placing his hand on his son’s chest, he felt the young part-elf’s heart pounding.

  Thump-thump … thump-thump … thump-thump …

  Unable to hide his worry, he asked, “What is it, Son?”

  A silvery tear dripped down Samaz’s cheek. His body trembled. “I–I saw a dragon die.” He pointed toward the sky.

  Bayzog followed his finger.

  A large black object dotted the sky, blotting out a small part of the rising moon. It sent a shiver through Bayzog. He stood up, and his slender jawline dropped. It was too big to be a dragon, yet it moved too slowly to be anything else, and something propelled it forward, dragging it over the mountain treetops.

  “What is that, Samaz?” He shook his son by the shoulders. “Have you any idea?”

  Teary eyed, Samaz spoke again, his voice more haunting this time. “I saw a dragon die.” He looked at Bayzog. “I saw Nath Dragon die.”

  CHAPTER 8

  The green and colorful fields were in a state of decay. Leaves fell from branches. Branches fell from trees. At night, the pixies no longer sang.

  Nath stood in the morning mist and sighed. His clawed fingertips tingled. He felt tired. He never felt tired.

  “Time to move,” said Gorlee, posing as Jason Haan. He was buckling his armor over his big frame. His sullen face with its hard eyes showed no sign of worry. “Seems we’re getting closer to something.”