The Dragon's Test (Book 3)

by Sam Ferguson

  Gorin never stopped. He ran straight at the beast, hefting his hammer high. The firedrake spewed fire out at the mountainous man, but Gorin deftly skipped out to the side, as graceful as a stag might leap over a brook.

  “He is agile, I’ll give him that,” Braun commented.

  Erik nodded and looked for an opening. Gorin was going in on the beast’s right side, so he motioned for Braun to go in from the left as soon as the firedrake turned its head to snap its jaws at Gorin. The two of them sprinted as fast as their legs could carry them. Erik hoped Gorin could keep the monster’s attention. He saw Gorin connect with a blow of his hammer into the beast’s side, but it didn’t look as though the firedrake was phased any more than if a fly had lighted upon a horse. The firedrake lashed out with his front talons, nearly catching Gorin across the chest, but the warrior was able to backpedal out of the way.

  “Look out!” Braun shouted suddenly. Erik heard a clank and then watched helplessly as Braun flew backward, flipping end over end through the air to land in the midst of some of his men. Then Erik heard the horrendous hiss from his left. He looked just in time to see a great wall of writhing flames coming for him. Instinctively he held his sword out as if to block. To his surprise, the white flames from the sword grew larger, creating a small shield and splitting the firedrake’s fire. The heat licked and singed Erik’s shoulders and hair, but the majority of the blast went by harmlessly.

  Something smashed into his back and knocked him face first to the ground. A clump of dirt flew up into Erik’s eyes and mouth and he gasped for breath. The sword flew out of his grip. Something heavy pinned his neck to the ground. He struggled against it, but there was no force he could muster that would save him. He opened his mouth to shout, but the thing atop him ground his face into the dirt even more so the words were lost. He struggled to find his inner power. Perhaps if he could turn into a dragon, then he could finish the battle.

  Nothing happened. There was no transformation. He found no power inside ready to be unleashed. Whatever it was that had allowed him to use Lepkin’s dragon form before, he could not unlock it now. He panicked. He thrashed and kicked. He clawed at the solid mass of scale over his neck. He screamed into the dirt. The firedrake drove its tail farther into the dirt, choking the life out of Erik. He could not hear the ferocious fighting around him. He could not see how many troops had rallied to his plight, or if they had all run away. This was the end. He had failed.

  *****

  Lady Arkyn loosed another arrow at the beast. Again the projectile plitted off the scales harmlessly. She ran to the other side of the roof, getting as close to the firedrake as possible. She had only three arrows left, and the other archers were busy holding off the main enemy force.

  She strung another arrow and waited for an opening. Gorin danced around the firedrake, swinging his hammer whenever the opportunity arose. Braun was just getting back into the fight after being thrown like a rag doll. She looked to the firedrake’s tail. The forked spikes had pinned Lepkin to the ground and the beast was effectively crushing him. She knew he was not long for this world if they could not save him. Braun went to work hacking at the tail, but the scales were impervious to his blade.

  The beast roared and hissed, spewing fire out at any before it. Gorin was obviously tiring, he was moving much slower now than at first. Lepkin’s thrashing was getting weaker too. She had to do something. Lady Arkyn pulled a second arrow free from her quiver and slid it into her teeth. She had an idea, but speed was of the essence. She aimed carefully for the space just under the firedrake’s tail on its rump. She let her arrow fly and moved to string the next arrow before the first found its mark. Her hope was rewarded. The first arrow sunk into a soft spot and the beast twisted its head around with a mighty hiss to see what had struck it.

  She sent the second arrow and then she pulled the third and put it to the string and took aim. The second arrow glanced off the narrow ridge above the firedrake’s left eye. The beast jerked its head aside and then looked up directly at her. Lady Arkyn let the third arrow loose and uttered a quiet prayer. The arrow sailed fast as lightning and drove home into the beast’s eye. The firedrake hissed and bellowed as it stumbled backward. It ripped its tail from the ground and took to the sky in a fit of growling.

  “Get up, Lepkin,” Lady Arkyn said. He was still. A shadow fell over her as the beast climbed into the air. It looked down to her and its chest glowed from within. The firedrake opened its mouth to reveal a crimson glow in the back of its throat. Lady Arkyn reached back for another arrow, and then realized she had no more.

  Just before the beast threw its fire, a great spear-like arrow burst through its neck. The beast gurgled and the fire shot out around the great arrow and harmlessly into the sky above before the firedrake fell to the ground. Lady Arkyn shouted a warning, but Gorin and Braun had already picked Lepkin up and were moving him out of the way. The firedrake crashed mightily, shaking the ground and sputtering gasps of fire and smoke across the dirt. Another great arrow pierced the firedrake in the body and the beast let go of its final breath. A silvery column of smoke rose from its mouth and it laid still.

  A large, thickly muscled man stood behind a great contraption. He was loading a third projectile into a socket and working a large windlass to pull the four strings back into place.

  “A wind-lance,” she said softly. As if on cue, the man working the great weapon looked up to her and gave a salute. She waved back. Then she ran back to the other side of the house where the other archers were working their bows as fast as they could.

  Lokton’s forces were winning. She could see them driving the enemy farther and farther back from the moat. The heaps of corpses now formed additional obstacles for the enemy to navigate, a task they were willing, but ultimately unable to do without getting bogged down.

  Lady Arkyn reached into a comrade’s quiver and pulled a handful of arrows out for herself. She quickly set to work, picking off any enemy she could see clearly enough to fire upon without hitting her own forces. Five arrows later there were five additional slain enemies on the field.

  She took heart when she saw Gorin, Braun, and even Lepkin back at the front lines. The men below cheered their heroes on and the three of them led a great charge into the enemy’s middle. A few moments later the enemy lines broke and she watched as they fled.

  The main army did not pursue, but Lepkin, Gorin, and Braun gave chase, cutting down a few more foes before stopping and returning to the safety behind the moat. Lady Arkyn quickly went down the ladder to greet them.

  When she got close she saw that all three were smattered with blood, but none appeared to be heavily wounded. Gorin had an open gash across his left shoulder, along with what appeared to be scorch-marks across his armor. Braun was walking stiffly, obviously trying to hide the fact that his back had been hurt in battle, but his face was emotionless as stone. Lepkin was breathing heavily, and walking slower than the others. His neck dripped with blood from one side. He looked at her and noticed her stare.

  “The firedrake’s tail,” he explained. “He had me good.”

  Gorin elbowed him in the side. “How does it feel for the mighty Lepkin to be saved by a woman?”

  “I seem to recall rescuing you a time or two,” Lady Arkyn said.

  Gorin smiled and folded his arms. “You can’t prove that,” he said with a wink. Then he patted him on the back. “It’s alright,” he said. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “You are an amazing shot,” Braun said.

  “I owe you my thanks,” Erik said. “I…” his words trailed off and he looked beyond her. She turned around and the four of them straightened. “Demetrius,” Erik said. “It appears you were able to finish the wind-lance.”

  Demetrius smiled slightly and nodded. “It isn’t exactly as I had hoped, but it works, and that is what matters.”

  “Where did the beast come from?” Braun asked.

  “Your wizard friend made him,” Demetrius said.

 
“Peren?” Gorin asked. “That doesn’t make sense. If Peren made the beast, then why would it attack us?”

  Demetrius shrugged. “I am a smith. I leave magic to the wizards. All I know is he made a wyvern out of a rat and used my catapult to throw it at the enemy. He then stuck a cat in the catapult and threw it too. There seemed to be a problem with the spell. He said he couldn’t change the animal and then it became a firedrake and turned on us.”

  Lady Arkyn sucked in a breath. “The cat didn’t submit,” she said with a slight nod. “That could explain it, especially if the warlock on the other side was somehow able to see the animal and use his own spell.”

  “Nah,” Gorin said with a shrug. “Peren had the smoke screen up. The warlock couldn’t see.” He turned back to Demetrius. “Where is Peren? He’ll tell us what happened.”

  “I’m afraid he won’t,” Demetrius said. “The beast got him, along with my catapult crews. All that I found was a scorched shoe.”

  Gorin’s smile faded and his shoulders slumped. The big man silently walked away from them. Lady Arkyn watched him go and kept her head bowed for a time.

  “Perhaps while Peren was struggling with the spell the warlock could see through the smoke?” Erik put in. The others nodded.

  “It’s possible,” Lady Arkyn said. She looked to the sun, it was starting its decent and dusk was creeping in over the field. “What do we do now?” she asked.

  “The fighting has ceased for now,” Braun said. “We should get back to our preparations, they will likely attack in the morning.”

  “Our archers will need more arrows,” Lady Arkyn added.

  “And we will need to reclaim our dead,” Braun said.

  “We have more arrows,” Demetrius said. “Have the archers come and see me at my forge, our reserves are there.” The large blacksmith turned to Braun. “Anyone who needs their armor repaired or replaced, send them to me. I can’t promise a miracle, but I will do what I can.” He started to turn away and then stopped suddenly and turned back to Erik. “Lepkin, I heard that my master died in an alley, by an assassin’s blade.” Demetrius’ lips tightened as he struggled to choke back his emotion. “If we live through this fight, I want you to tell Erik that I apologize for doubting him. I should never have listened to that fool warlock’s prophecy. Erik is a good, strong lad, one of the best House Lokton has ever produced. Would you tell him that for me?”

  Erik nodded and watched as Demetrius spun away and made haste for his forge.

  Braun patted Erik on the shoulder and sighed as he looked around. “By the ancients, this is a dark day,” he said.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I know you are there,” Gilifan said confidently. He turned his head and looked to the doorway. “Why do you persist in staying in the shadows? Come and step into the light.” Nothing moved. No one answered. Gilifan arched a thin eyebrow and sighed. “I grow tired of our game.” He waved his hand and a blue orb expanded through the room like a wave of water, casting a silvery film on everything it passed over. A form near the doorway held its hands up in front of itself, examining the silvery residue the spell left behind. Another form sat in a high-backed wooden chair by the hearth. Gilifan smiled, pleased with himself.

  “Now that you know I can see you, perhaps we can dispense with the shadows. Come, let us discuss this like gentlemen,” the necromancer said.

  The seated form was the first to appear. It was the cowardly kobold from Kuldiga Academy. “We have already met,” he said.

  Gilifan nodded. “Though the last time I saw you, you were not so bold. I thought you a spineless underling.” The kobold grinned, pulling its thin lips tight against its sharp, jagged teeth. Gilifan turned to the doorway, and the other form was gone. The wizard recast the spell and the blue orb expanded quicker than the first, casting its shine over everything in the room.

  “He is gone,” the seated kobold said. “As is your amulet.”

  Gilifan reached up to his neck, and his face soured when he discovered the jewel was in fact missing. “Stay still,” he told the kobold. He pointed a finger and sent a black bolt at the creature but the kobold was quick to counteract the spell with one of his own. A dark mist filled the room. The necromancer snapped his fingers, summoning a white orb of light in the midst of the darkness. Pain flashed across the necromancer’s left leg as a blade tore through his hamstring. He fell backward onto the floor, calling out in agony.

  He heard the coming footsteps and uttered another spell. A shell of fire encircled him, catching the would-be assassin and lighting him aflame as easily as though he had been covered in oil. The kobold squealed and shrieked as it ran away. Gilifan put a hand to his leg and closed the wound with a quick healing spell. After his leg was whole, the blood was dried in the heat of the fire-shell. He looked down to his brownish-red hand and stood again. His left leg protested with a couple of spasms, but the healing spell had done its job.

  The necromancer extinguished the fire-shell and then dispelled the heavy mist in the room. As the last of the black particles dissipated, he saw a smoldering, smoking hulk in the far corner. “You have not won,” Gilifan said.

  The dying kobold laughed and coughed. “Neither have you,” he promised. Then he exhaled for the last time and his head slumped back against the wall.

  Gilifan quickly marched out of the room, searching for any sign of the second kobold. The halls were silent. There was no trace of the other creature. “Curse you,” Gilifan growled. He spun around and went back to the dead kobold. He began to utter his spell to raise the dead creature. Out of habit, his left hand went to his neck to pull the amulet that was no longer there. The necromancer closed his eyes and stood silently fuming. He looked to a small box on his desk and a hollow, gnawing feeling tore into the pit of his stomach.

  In two strides he was at his desk, hands reaching down to open the silver encrusted onyx box. Instead of the old parchment, he saw only the smooth, bare stone bottom. He dropped the box, letting it clash down on the desk. “He has the spell,” he muttered. He turned and looked back to the kobold. How had he been able to get the amulet? Gilifan never removed the jewel from his neck except to summon its power. Now that it was gone…

  The necromancer summoned forth his portal and set his destination for Lokton Manor. He was not about to let some upstart warlock steal his power from him. A great, oval shaped light appeared. A silver mist covered the portal’s surface as small bolts of green and purple light sparked across the oval. The image of the field came into the portal. The warlock had made camp for the night, and Lokton Manor still stood. “Time to pay you a visit,” Gilifan snarled. He stepped forward into the portal. The cool, tingling feeling washed over him as usual, but then he stopped abruptly, as if a wall of invisible stone had been erected. A wave of searing heat poured over the wizard and ultimately ejected him from the portal with the force of a great gale.

  Gilifan landed on his desk and tumbled over it to slam onto the floor. A column of fire shot out from the portal, scorching the wall behind the wizard and then the portal itself shattered. Broken images of the field fell to the floor as though they had been dashed from a large mirror. Rays of purple and green light arced through the room, hissing and sizzling wildly as they bounced around the walls. The necromancer pushed himself up to his knees and waved the portal’s remains away.

  “Very clever,” Gilifan said. “But it will not save you.” He rose to his feet and brushed himself off. Then he left the room to gather his forces.

  *****

  “If you keep guzzling that stuff down, it will be the end of you,” Marlin said.

  Lady Dimwater sniggered and pushed the glass goblet away from her. “I told you, it helps me clear my head.”

  “Still, even for you that can’t be healthy. A glass of that could put down even the toughest men.”

  “I am not a man,” Lady Dimwater said coyly.

  Marlin ceded the point with a nod and held out a folded letter to her. “I think this will be somewhat b
etter for giving you hope than a glass of absinthe.”

  Lady Dimwater took the letter and opened it. Her eyes went wide and a smile appeared on her face as she devoured the message. “Al sits upon the throne of Roegudok Hall!” she exclaimed. “He has the scale!”

  Marlin nodded. “It would appear that the gods have not forsaken us,” Marlin commented. “He will need to march back to Drakei Glazei, but at least the scale is coming here.”

  “It is good to see he can send forces to help Erik as well,” she said. “Now if only Lepkin would wake up, has there been any progress?”

  “He has mumbled a few times, but nothing coherent yet. He is still deep in the sleep.”

  Her smile diminished and she blinked a couple times. “Well, one step at a time I suppose,” she said.

  “At least things are moving in a positive direction now,” Marlin offered. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted as the door to the library flew open and a huffing guard stumbled in.

  “Blacktongues,” he shouted in between breaths. “A lot of them.”

  Lady Dimwater slammed her palm on the table. “I am tired of them,” she grumbled.

  “How many?” Marlin asked.

  “We count maybe two score,” the guard said. “A couple of their scouts advanced on the wall but we stopped them.”

  “Why has no one sounded the gong?” Marlin asked. As the last word fell from his lips the gong rang out loud and true like a crashing wave of brass. Marlin sighed.

  “Let’s go,” Dimwater said as she pushed the heavy-breathing guard aside. Marlin struggled to keep up with her. He could see the anger writhing within the sorceress. Her determined, quick pace and the stoic expression on her face caused even the guards at the door to scramble out of her way as she stepped out into the night.

  A whirlwind formed beneath her, fluttering her dress up above her ankles as it picked her up and gently carried her above the outer wall. A slew of arrows sailed toward her, but she sent a wave of flame to devour the shafts before they could reach her. A white orb of light appeared in her left hand and she cast it out over the field. It grew to the size of a great boulder and dispelled the night’s blanket of darkness from the area. A group of Blacktongues directly beneath the orb covered their eyes and shrank away from the brightness and others scattered from the field.