“How much time?” he said.
“I cannot say for certain. Just make haste. Find the ones that carve the crystals and bring me three of what they have.”
“I don’t even know how to get up there,” Nath said. “Can you tell me?”
“You have good eyes, Nath Dragon. You’ll see.”
Nath rummaged through the chest and grabbed a few things. He reached for Akron.
“That will only slow you down,” Otter Bone said. “Use your mind. It’s much faster.”
Nath vanished into the forest.
CHAPTER 22
There was darkness. There was gloom. The dank smell of a dungeon lingered in Gorlee’s nostrils.
Oh no, not The Deep again.
He was sprawled out on a slab of stone. His ankles and wrists were constricted by an unseen force. A fog-like mist rolled over him like a ghostly hand, and chill bumps raised on his pinkish limbs. Fear assailed him.
What if Bletver has me?
His fuzzy mind began to clear. Exhausted, he’d fallen asleep against the wall on the edge of the City of Narnum only to awaken and face a dark terror in the night. Longer and heavier than a great cat, a fanged cat-like creature had slavered over him. Smoke of a languid scent had spilled from its nose, and his sight had turned into flowers and then black. Now he awoke, bound on a cold hard slab.
“This is tiresome,” he said, straining against his bonds. His limbs felt weak and his bones like jelly. He sighed. “Awfully tiresome.”
He could hear the sound of a torch nearby, and it gave off a faint yellow light in the dreary chamber. Somewhere, something metal scraped over stone.
“Who’s there?”
His voice echoed off stones. Stillness was his answer.
He closed his eyes. His mind raced.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.
Just when Gorlee thought he’d gotten control of things, the world had slipped out from under his feet. Even in all the years he spent protecting Nath Dragon with Brenwar, Ben and Bayzog, he’d never encountered fear like this before. The past two days had stifled him. And now it seemed his captors knew what he was.
And they had him.
Metal scraped over stone again.
His eyes snapped open.
Dark-robed figures formed a hem around him. The tattoos on their bald heads glowed with eerie colors that seemed to move and swirl.
“Where did you come from?”
They chanted and swayed.
Nausea assailed Gorlee.
“Stop it! Stop it! What are you doing?”
A metal footstep resounded over the stone, and a shadow fell over his head.
Gorlee’s head twisted around.
“Kryzak!”
The man’s steady glare was heavy on him. His eyes were wild with fire. He joined the chants in the acolyte circle and stretched his long fingers over Gorlee’s head.
“What are you doing?”
Kryzak’s hands burst with glowing purple flame. His chant became louder and louder. He waved his flaming fingers over Gorlee’s eyes, shouted out, and dropped them on his face.
Gorlee tried to jerk away, but the mystic hands seized him. His scream was muffled.
NO!
His fingers and toes curled. Something invaded his mind and his body. Like dark waters bursting through a dam into a previously calm lake, it roiled him inside. Kryzak’s burning hands engulfed his head, and mystic violet immersed his body. The acolytes’ chants turned into howls, and his body shook on the great stone.
What is happening to me?
Gorlee’s mind recoiled. Something dark had entered. Had peeled the bars away that guarded his mind. Now that it was inside, he felt powerless to stop it from rummaging around.
What are you doing to me?
Memories flooded through his head. Friends. Cities. Countryside and mountain peaks.
He screamed.
Everything he’d ever known seemed lost.
The fires went out, and he lay there, cold and shaking. The chants ended. The acolytes dispersed, leaving only him and Krysak. The large man held a glowing crystal over his head and said, “You are one of us now.”
Gorlee’s lips were glued shut, but his mind asked many questions.
One of what? Who am I? Where is this?
Why does it smell so bad?
CHAPTER 23
There won’t be any dwarven justice, but there will be more dwarven deaths.
Trapped and flatfooted, Pilpin glared at the laughing satyr and readied himself for the draykis advance. The hulking creatures were almost three times the size of the dwarves, and their sharp claws clutched in and out like razors.
Devliik raised his battle axe up high over his head and shouted a battle cry.
“For Morgdon!”
The dwarves formed a battle wedge behind Devliik and shouted in return.
“For Morgdon!”
“Charge!” Devliik roared in Dwarven.
The dwarven force careened into the nearest draykis with ram-like force, toppled him over, and kept on going. Pilpin stepped on its ugly face and slipped through its grasping claws. It was the fastest he’d ever run before. He cast a glance over his shoulder. The draykis stood flatfooted, and their huge fanged jaws were gawping.
“Get after them!” Finlin screamed, sawing at the rope that held him. “Get them! Kill them all, you grey-skinned fiends!”
The dwarves scurried up a rocky hilltop, darted under hanging branches, and ran straight into the mouth of a large cave.
Pilpin could hear the satyr Finlin’s rage-filled scream.
“They’re getting away!”
Into the darkness the dwarves plunged, with the draykis fast on their tails. One by one, they each burrowed into a smaller cave barely big enough for a dwarf to fit through. Pilpin squeezed inside the gap and his brethren pulled him in.
“Ulp!”
A draykis grabbed his ankle and pulled him back out. He dangled in its mighty arm like a stubby, bearded child.
“Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!” Finlin laughed, entering the cave. “Another prisoner.” He beat his chest like a drum. “I suggest the rest of you come out if you don’t want to see another dwarf die.”
Pilpin eyed the approaching satyr.
“My,” Finlin said, “you are a small one, aren’t you. And you almost have more beard than body.” He shook his horns. “That’s gross. Now, call out your brethren so we can get this over with.”
“It’s over with already,” Pilpin said with a gleam in his eyes.
“It’s good to know that you’ve come to terms with your circumstances,” Finlin said. He cupped his hands over his mouth. “Come out, come out, you little husky men. Or else I’ll feed this bearded morsel to my draykis.”
“They won’t come,” Pilpin said, folding his little arms over his chest.
Finlin stood eye to eye with him and said, “Is it because you’d rather die than see them surrender?”
Pilpin shook his head.
“No, not at all.”
“Then why is it then?”
Pilpin scanned the cave. All the draykis had converged around him and Finlin.
“Well,” Pilpin said in a hushed voice, eyes darting from one draykis to the other, “it’s because the dark skies are falling.”
“What?” Finlin said, craning his neck.
“Dark skies are falling,” Pilpin said with a wink.
“I don’t catch your meaning,” Finlin said while his ears wiggled all around and bent.
Tink. Tink. Tink … Tink. Tink. Tink.
Pilpin made an odd dwarven giggle and reached into his pocket. He held a large nut shell in his hand.
“Is that your last meal?” Finlin said, eyeing the cave.
Tink. Tink. Tink … Tink. Tink. Tink.
“No, it’s for the draykis.” He stuffed it in the nearest draykis’s mouth, closed his eyes, and covered his ears. “Enjoy!”
The draykis chomped down.
Boom!
The
entire cave shook.
Pilpin fell free and scrambled for the narrow gap they pulled him from before. He took one last glimpse into the cave. One draykis was missing a head, and its body was smoking. Finlin and the others staggered onto their feet, eyes searching the darkness above.
Tink. Tink. Tink … Tink. Tink. Tink.
Tink. Tink. Tink … Tink. Tink. Tink.
Tink. Tink. Tink … Tink. Tink. Tink.
Finlin the satyr’s eyes widened.
“Get out! Get out!”
He dashed for the cave mouth just as the dark sky crashed down.
***
“We found something,” a sergeant of Barnabus said. He was tall and wiry with tangled brown hair. He saluted and stood at attention.
“Finally,” Faylan the satyr said. She waved him off and shoved by him and out of her tent. She turned and looked back at the tent flap. “Well! Show me what you found.”
The man scurried out with a nod and made his way through the camp, gathering a host of men.
Faylan eyed each and every one. The muscles between her shoulders were tight, and the corner of her lip twitched. She hadn’t seen her brother or the draykis in the past two days. She rubbed the amulet around her neck and summoned its power, but nothing came.
“Brother, I will kill you if you failed me again.”
She had followed the soldiers on hooved feet miles through the forest and ravines when they came to a stop. She could see scouts standing up on the rocky hillside farther ahead. She noticed a rope hanging from a tree nearby. Her gaze fell to the ground.
One scout pointed at footprints and said, “Dwarves, draykis, and your brother. They lead that—”
“I can see that!” She marched forward with her heart beating inside her throat. Something was wrong. Amiss. She picked up her pace and trotted up the rocky climb underneath the overhanging pine branches. A few soldiers in dusty and stained armor who stood on a crag turned to face her with widening eyes. They scooted back and dipped their heads, turning toward the rock face of the mountain.
Her head beaded with sweat. Her breath was hard to find. Before her, what was once a large cave mouth that opened wide was filled with huge stones and rubble. Her hooves clacked over the rocky crag and came to a stop in front of the cave mouth. A glint of steel in the sun caught her eye. A smear of red did too. She shuddered a breath and her eyes swelled with tears. Holding the knife was the cold dead hand of her brother. The rest of his body was buried in the rubble. She fell to her knees.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
She sobbed, cried, and screamed for minutes, maybe an hour, until she could cry no more. Shaking like a leaf, she managed to stand up and eye the rock-filled tomb. She could only assume the draykis were in there too.
High Priestess Selene will have my head for this!
The sergeant cleared his throat and spoke with his head cast to the ground.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, “but at least the dwarves are gone too.”
She stabbed him in the chest with her brother’s dagger.
He fell dead to the ground. All the soldiers shuffled backward. She glared at them and shook her head. “Leave him for the vultures. Let’s get back to camp.”
Tink. Tink. Tink … Tink. Tink. Tink…
Tink. Tink. Tink … Tink. Tink. Tink…
The sound of metal striking stone echoed all around.
“Are you finished crying yet, you goat-horned, mule-hooved, hairy-backed fiend?”
Faylan’s head snapped upward and hatred blazed in her eyes.
A small dwarf that sounded like ten spoke.
“Your brother’s dead, and soon you will be as well, but until then, it’s never too late to surrender.”
“I’ll kill you!”
“Eh,” the dwarf said, cupping his hears, “Were you talking to your brother again? Don’t you know the dead can’t hear you?”
High atop the rocky hill, she could see a small group of dwarves. Their hands were filled with picks and shovels.
“Only a fool would follow a dwarf into a cave.” His voice echoed. “Or a satyr.”
“You’ll pay for this!” she shouted, shaking her first. “My army will hunt you down and slaughter the lot of you!”
“We’ll see about that,” the little dwarf said. He raised a pick over his head and started swinging. “Brethren, let us deliver her a nice rocky grave.” The dwarves rattled their picks and began to chant and yell.
Tink. Tink. Tink … Tink. Tink. Tink…
Tink. Tink. Tink … Tink. Tink. Tink…
Huge chunks of rock broke off and started to fall.
“Rockslide! Run!” one soldier yelled.
Faylan sprinted down the hill. Behind her, the rockslide covered the entire face of the hill. Only the soldiers at the bottom survived. Above, she could see the small dwarf waving his hand.
“Don’t worry, we’ll get you next time, Little Horned One.”
CHAPTER 24
Nath cut through the forest quicker than a jungle panther. Heavy thoughts and urgency rattled around in his mind. He leapt over a wide creek and weaved through the trees and brush. He was miles west of the last River City now, and the Floating City hung like a great moon in the daylight above. Almost directly beneath the edge of the gargantuan rock that hung in the air, he came to a stop.
Need to save Bayzog.
The jaxite glowed with a strange blue light, making odd life-like shadows on his surroundings. Nath stared up in wonder. He could see the outlines of towers and buildings built from marble and limestone. They twisted into the stark blue sky. Cable bridges swayed in the wind, bridges from one floating rock to the other. They led into the city, but from way up high. A dark shadow streaked across the sky like a great bat. He hunkered down.
Need to be a little more mindful.
Despite his concern for his friends, his dragon blood still raced with exhilaration. He could never say it out loud, but Otter Bone was right about one thing. His friends did slow him down and hold him back. There was nothing like the freedom of being a dragon. He reached behind his back and caressed Fang’s steely hilt. Not you, my friend. Nath rubbed his scruffy jaw and surveyed the expanse above.
How do I get up there?
Otter Bone had been vague, but also clear. There was a way, and he’d find it, or else. Nath couldn’t figure the man. Good or bad. And he never had problems reading people.
A long sleepy roar scattered the birds from the trees.
Bull dragon.
Another slightly different roar followed.
Great, they’re both prowling.
Nath could hear trees falling over, where the two bull dragons pushed through the forest. Without hesitation, he waded into the river that ran beneath the Floating City. Bull dragons didn’t care much for water, but there were plenty of dragons that did.
Neck deep, he made his way toward rocky cliffs that hung over the river. Green and brown vines twisted downward like lush waterfalls over the river. Nath slipped behind them and waited, ears perked and eyes alert. His golden eyes widened when they came.
Two golden brown-red dragons pushed out of the woods. Their great iron-scaled bellies dragged over the ground. They both sniffed and snorted smoke and fire. One made an ear-shattering roar to the other. The other’s great chest heaved. Fire shot from its mouth like molten lava into the water, smoking up the river.
Nath dipped his head a little deeper into the water. The bull dragons were each bigger than the grey scaler he’d defeated, and their girth was even greater. They weren’t the fastest fliers, but they were certainly one of the toughest dragons to kill. Their scales were more than just iron and razors. They were harder than the hardest metals, and their bones were like steel. Nath had tangled with one of the baby ones when he was a boy … once.
Great, they smell me, but I don’t think they know who I am.
The bull dragons locked horns with a great clack and shoved their great necks back and forth.
Cl
ack!
Clack!
Clack!
They drew their heads back and struck one another again and again, like claps of thunder.
It was a warning. The bull dragons wanted whoever lurked in their territory to know who was boss. Minutes later, they broke it off and spat streams of flame high into the air.
Always snorting and blowing like the bullheads they are.
All of a sudden, their tails lashed into the leafy forest and smote a large tree into splinters. It tumbled down with a crash. One dragon chomped down on the trunk and slung it into the river.
Splash!
Nath allowed himself a smile.
At least they’re not as smart as they are strong and skull-headed. That’s when he noticed something else. Their tails, long and mighty like great snakes, were not black. How did I miss that? Interesting.
As the tree floated by past the corner of his eye, the dragons barked two roars and leapt into the sky. Their wings spread out and beat, and slowly their hulking forms rose into the sky and disappeared from sight.
I’ll never understand how those fatties can fly.
Nath twisted his head upward and peered into the air. Many boulders floated up there, with layers of jaxite below them. There were dozens of them, maybe hundreds, spread out through the sky between here and the city. He smiled, bobbed his head, wrapped his arms up in the vines, and climbed toward the top of the overhanging cliff. For Bayzog.
CHAPTER 25
“Are you happy with yourself?” Brenwar said, glaring at Otter Bone.
The wiry old man shrugged.
“It’s what is best,” the sage said, glancing into the sky, “for the long run. You should know that, being a dwarf.”
Brenwar sneered under his beard and tipped a canteen to Bayzog’s thin lips. Half a day had passed since Nath left, and every minute seemed like an hour. The mage slumped against the tree with red rings around his weak eyes. Brenwar dipped water into his mouth. Bayzog spit it out and groaned.
“That’s touching,” Otter Bone said, “seeing a dwarf tend to an elf. Do you do that often?”
Brenwar shot him a look.
Strife In The Sky (Book 7) Page 8
