A pair of boys dashed back and forth, rattling their sticks like swords with one another. They stopped and stared at him, blocking his path. One’s hair hung over his eyes and the other’s was closely trimmed.
“We’re going to be Legionnaires,” one said.
“Can you teach us how to kill Ettins?” said the other, blowing the hair from his eyes.
Ben rubbed their heads and smiled.
“Not now, but maybe later.”
One kicked at the dirt.
“Ah! I want to learn now.”
Ben squatted down.
“A Legionnaire has to be patient and able to follow orders.” He looked into their eyes. “Can you do that?”
One nodded, but the long-haired one said, “My mother’s always giving me orders. ‘Fill the bucket.’ ‘Sheer the sheep.’ ‘Pluck the chickens.’ ‘Skin the rabbits.’ ‘String the beans.’ Blah! I want to get out of this place.”
Ben stuck his chin out a little and bobbed his head. He understood. He’d been done all those things hundreds of times if not thousands. His home village of Quinley was a little bigger than this one, but the work was still the same. He didn’t hate being a farmer, but he didn’t love it either. If anything, it had prepared him for the Legionnaires. The training was tough, but his body and mind were already used to the work. He’d succeeded where many failed.
“I used to love plucking chickens,” he said to them.
The boy’s eyes widened.
“You plucked chickens?” the long-hair said.
The other teetered on his toes.
Ben smiled.
“I was the fastest feather-plucker in the village and I just loved stringing those beans. You want to know a secret?”
They nodded their heads yes.
Ben looked around and lowered is voice. “Farm boys make the best Legionnaires. My commander told me so.” He winked. “And I’m a pretty good one you know.”
“I’m going to be the fastest feather-plucker in my village!”
“No, I am!”
They took off running, tackling and bumping each other all the way back home.
Ben stood up, stretched his back and smiled. Then he frowned. Giving advice to children made him feel old. And he’d never worried before, but now he was worried about Sasha. He felt responsible, and it left his stomach a little sick. He shuffled along, rubbing the knot on his head.
“I should have gone with them,” he said to himself. “I should be the one to find her. Dragon’s probably mad.” He adjusted his sword belt on his hips. “I can’t fail again.”
He rubbed the bump on his head. It felt like a tomato was growing under his skin. Garrison said it was the winged ape that had grabbed him and tossed him like a fish. But Ben wasn’t so sure. There was something about Garrison that didn’t seem right. Ben had asked his friend several times what he’d seen and what had happened, but the story seemed to go back and forth.
“I’m not sure.”
“It was an ape, like they said.”
Ben knew Garrison wasn’t telling him everything. Dragon had taught him a bit about liars. ‘Just watch their eyes,’ Dragon had said. ‘Their hands. Sometimes they fidget a little. And sometimes, if you’re wise, you can just tell. Your gut will tell you.’
Garrison’s story, though a bit inconsistent, did seem sincere. His eyes and hands were steady. Maybe too steady. But what would Garrison have to hide?
Ben’s stomach rumbled. He decided to head back to the lodge room and dig up a biscuit. He could smell them better in the air the closer he came. Hot. Buttery. Village or no village, these people were gonna make their biscuits. He patted his tummy. “Well not all of my body has to be unhappy.”
Walking along he noticed a man making his way through the tall grasses in the distance. It was Garrison.
“Say, where’s he going?” He rubbed his chin. He was hungry, but more curious. Something about the way Garrison moved bothered him. His friend checked over his shoulder a couple of times and disappeared over the dale. “I’ve a feeling I’d better find out.”
CHAPTER 5
I dove into the pool, cut through the water and grabbed the chains. I didn’t look at either of them. I couldn’t. Brenwar and Shum’s chains ran through a metal ring in heavy stone and the pool was littered with bones at the bottom. I pulled at the chains. They were thicker. The stone bigger. I don’t think Kryzak had any plans for them to survive at all. I dug my feet in and pulled again. The metal didn’t groan or twist. The ring in the stone didn’t loosen.
Nooooooo!
I felt a hand tapping me on the shoulder. I jerked in the water and faced Brenwar. He was still alive. He slid Dragon Claw out of Fang’s hilt, stuck it between the links and twisted. I slid Fang between the links as well. Its steel was unbreakable. I was turning the blade, twisting the links in the metal, when something else happened. The chains crystalized like ice, stretching from one link to the other. Yes! I kept twisting. So did Brenwar.
Snap. Snap. Snap.
The metal links busted away. I grabbed Shum, pushed him to the surface, and swam for the edge. Brenwar crawled out of the water, gasping for air.
“Dwarves can hold their breath longer than any mortal race, but that was pushing it.”
The Ranger was limp in my arms. Lips pale blue. His eyes were closed and his body was cold.
“Shum,” I said, slapping his face. “Shum, wake up!” I pushed on his chest.
Brenwar stood over me as I sat on the pool edge and squeezed my shoulder.
“He’s gone, Nath. He’s gone.”
“No,” I said, looking up, “he can’t be.”
I’d seen Brenwar’s mad face plenty of times in my life, but never his sad one. Beard dripping, his expression was long, eyes wet. He rubbed his nose and sniffed.
“I tried everything to save him,” he said. “But those chains would not give. I’ve never seen anyone die like that before. Such evil, Nath. Such evil.”
I hit the wall.
“Noooooo!”
Bayzog and Sasha appeared on the other side of the pool, mouths gaping. I could hear what they were saying without the words. “Is he?”
I just shook my head and wiped the hair from his face. Our friend, Shum, had died.
I lifted him up in my arms and headed back for the tunnel. Everyone stepped aside with long faces and followed.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said with determination.
Tears streamed down Sasha’s face. “Pathfinder will lead us out.”
I followed the light. Numb. Angry. This was my fault. My friends were pawns set up to torture me and now one was dead. It could have been all of them. They insisted on protecting me, but I couldn’t protect them. I sniffed and my eyes watered. I wanted to cry. I wanted to kill. I felt cold.
There was evil here. Death and decay, but there was something else. Something I’d missed before.
Dragons.
Somewhere. Caged. I could feel them. Smoke rolled from my nostrils. This wasn’t over yet.
Unmolested, we made it out of the tunnels and into the pouring rain. An evil echo of laughter followed us out. We all looked back, then at one another. I kept peering down the tunnel.
“We stay together, Nath,” Brenwar said, “We can go back in later. We should head back to the village and give a proper burial.” Brenwar sniffed. “He’d want that.”
Jaw clenched, tears in my eyes, I whirled.
“I’ll do what I have to do!”
“One of us is dead,” he barked back, “do you want to see another? We came for Sasha. Our lives for hers. Shum knew that. He died with honor. Now don’t dishonor him and get more of us killed. That fiend has you rattled, Nath.” He tossed Dragon Claw into the dirt at my feet. “We can get him later. We need a plan.”
He was right, but I didn’t care. I plucked Dragon Claw out of the ground and stuffed him back in Fang’s hilt.
“Then you can stay here,” I said, stepping towards the tunnel.
&nbs
p; Thoom! Thoom! Crack!
An Ettin pushed through the trees, uprooting them. Both heads showed ugly sneers. It wore an anchor and chain around its neck.
“Time to eat,” one head said, looking at the other, patting its belly.
“Ah,” the other head said, “it seems they’ve prepared an Elf for us. Mmmm-mmmm-mmm. They’re the most delicious.”
It stepped closer.
Brenwar, Shum and Sasha were still shackled and weaponless. I moved in front of them.
“One step closer, Ettin, and you’re dead,” I said, holding out Fang.
The Ettin towered over us, hands on hips, laughing.
“HA! HA! HA!”
Smoke rolled from my mouth. I bent over and took a swing, sinking Fang into its wrist.
The Ettin howled.
I struck again, dodged and sprinted through its legs and chopped into the back of its heel.
It roared, teetered, screamed, and brought down the anchor.
I dove out of the way.
Smash!
It tore out a clump of boulders and scattered them like ninepins.
I dashed under its thigh and stabbed it behind the knee. Come on, Fang!
Glitch!
I hoped it would freeze or something.
But the Ettin only screamed and brought the anchor down again.
Crash!
It missed.
“YOU’RE FAST! BUT YOUR FRIENDS ARE NOT!”
It stomped after them.
Brenwar, Bayzog and Sasha scattered.
“THEY RUN LIKE CHICKENS! SLOW ONES!”
“Over here, Ugly!” Brenwar yelled, waving his hands over his head.
It went after Sasha. She’d disappeared behind a large rock. The Ettin picked it up like an egg.
She screamed.
It laughed, looked over its shoulder and hurled the boulder at Brenwar, hitting the stone he hid behind. The Ettin reached down for Sasha. Fingers clutching at her tiny frame.
Something exploded inside me.
Slice! Slash! Slash! Stab!
I ripped into the back of its leg.
It arched its back, arms wide and started howling in fury.
Slash! Slash! Stab!
Bayzog appeared. He swept Sasha up in his arms and scurried her away.
The Ettin’s arms flailed for balance and it toppled to the ground like a great tree.
I jumped on its chest and raised Fang over my head with two hands.
“Nath, no!” Brenwar yelled, rushing toward me.
I drove Fang into its heart.
All four eyes popped open and the beating under my feet came to a sudden stop. Its anguished stare was frozen and its arms fell limp at its sides.
Silence and rain filled the crater.
I sheathed my sword and hopped down.
“Ye didn’t have to do that,” Brenwar said, limping over, “I could’ve you know.”
I headed for the tunnel.
“Where do you think yer goin’?”
I didn’t reply. I didn’t stop either.
CHAPTER 6
“Brenwar,” Bayzog said, “shouldn’t we go after him?”
The Dwarf stood like a tree stump, thick fingers clutching at his sides, brows buckled.
“No,” he said under his beard. “We’ve lost enough already. Nath should know better.” He turned back towards them. “I’m afraid we can’t help him any right now. He’s temperamental.”
Bayzog’s hand wrapped around Sasha’s. It was cold and she was shivering.
He looked up, hand over his eyes and said, “Let’s get shelter. Perhaps under those trees.”
“What about Shum?” she said.
The Elf lay on the ground with a layer of wet dirt and rain muddying his armor.
Brenwar tended to him. Picked him up, moved him, and set him down somewhere more suitable. He crossed Shum’s arms over his chest, took a knee, closed his eyes and bowed his head. Placing his hand over Shum, he began to sing in Dwarven. A throaty melody. Pleasant and strong.
Bayzog held Sasha tight, but her sobs shook both their bodies.
Brenwar finished.
“That was beautiful,” Sasha said.
Brenwar nodded.
The rain splashed on Shum’s face, bringing life to it a little. Everyone stood and stared, but Sasha was still crying. Bayzog’s stomach twisted and turned.
“I-I feel so guilty,” Sasha said. “He shouldn’t have died over me.”
“He’d have died a hundred times for all of us,” Bayzog said, “That’s what good does. Gives its life so others may live.”
“The Rovers say ‘Act or evil takes the reins.’ He told me that once in our travels,” Brenwar said.
***
The rain slowed and the clouds began to part. The sun was warm but Sasha felt cold. Nath was gone. Buried in a well of darkness. They’d barely made it out the last time and now he had to make it out alone. It didn’t seem right. She felt helpless.
“Sasha,” Bayzog said, “Your spell. It saved us too you know. And Brenwar. You did well.” He kissed her on the head. “Shum would be proud.”
“Aye,” Brenwar said, stepping over and patting her hands. “I’m grateful to you, Lady Sasha. I’m pretty sure I only had a few more seconds at most in me.”
His kind words did little to lighten her spirits. But she was glad she lived. Just miserable.
“I think I need to sit down,” she said. She sat where she stood, folded her arms over her chest and watched the tunnel. It was dark. Foreboding. She never wanted to go in there again.
“If I can find some metal,” Brenwar said. “I can get these cuffs off. Maybe you can then cast a spell to warm yerselves.” He sauntered away.
Bayzog sat down and draped his arm over her shoulder.
“Did you see Nath’s eyes?” she said. “When he killed that thing?” She nodded back towards the Ettin. “And when he left into the tunnel?”
“Yes, Dear.”
“I think I was more scared of him at that moment than I was of the Ettin. His eyes were like fire. I almost felt bad for the Ettin,” she said. “Is that wrong?”
“I don’t think it’s wrong at all. There’s light in all creatures, Sasha, but many prefer the darkness.”
“Why?” she said, scratching her head. “Why do they do such things?”
“Doing right is never as easy as doing wrong,” he said. “And I fear our friend, Nath, is doing wrong now.”
She rested her head into Bayzog’s chest and stared down into the tunnel. “Me too,” she whispered.
CHAPTER 7
I didn’t need the light. Fang provided that. A sheer a pale blue light adorned the blade. I didn’t need an orb to follow either. Now that I knew where the Dragons were, dark or light, I’d never forget. No twist or turn would fool me.
I didn’t run. I didn’t trot. I dared anything to cross me.
Two Gnolls did.
Two Gnolls died.
No one would harm any of my friends again. No one from this tunnel anyway. Not ever again!
I wasn’t far from the large cavern with the urns of light where I’d met Kryzak the first time when another Draykis greeted me in the large tunnel.
It held Brenwar’s War Hammer in its hands and smiled.
“Put that down,” I said.
“Take it,” it hissed.
I didn’t realize they could talk so well. It surprised me.
We charged. Our weapons clashed.
Krang!
It sounded like the world exploded.
Fang kept humming.
The Draykis kept swinging, hammering away at the sword in my arms.
Fang’s humming got louder and louder. The ringing rose.
The Draykis dropped to its knees. The War Hammer fell from its fingers.
I struck it down with a single blow.
Its head rolled away.
Fang’s humming stopped and the blade’s light went cold.
Laughter echoed in the chamber. I pic
ked up Brenwar’s War Hammer, stepped over the Draykis, and strode into the light of the cavern.
Twang! Zip!
An arrow buried itself in my scaled shoulder.
“Welcome back, Nath Dragon,” Kryzak said. He was holding Akron and nocking another arrow. “I sure like these Mithril arrows. They’ll put a hole through anything. Extra light and fast too.”
“Shoot all the arrows you want,” I said, yanking the arrow from my arm and tossing it. “They won’t prevent your eminent death. I’ll avenge my friend.”
“Friend?” Kryzak said, cocking his head. “Are you certain about that, Nath Dragon? Perhaps I did you a favor.”
The words struck me funny. Cooled my inferno. My stance softened. What was he talking about?
Kryzak lowered the arrow tip towards my chest. He was alone. I sensed no more Draykis, Gnolls, or Goblins. But, certainly the Feline Fury was near, ready to pounce from anywhere? I scanned the nooks and crannies. But it was only the two of us and the flames. Where was everyone else? What game was he playing?
Shoulder aching, I switched Fang into my good arm and stepped forward.
“I think it’s time to close that mouth of yours, permanently.”
“Ah, yes, you never were one to let others do the talking, now were you?”
Again, what was he talking about? How did he know me?
“No,” I said, “I always found the conversation of others quite boring, just like the one we’re having now.” I continued forward.
Kryzak closed one eye and took a half breath.
Twang!
Cling!
The arrow ricocheted off Fang’s blade. I bolted towards Kryzak and swung.
Swish!
Like a phantom, he faded and was gone.
“Ah-ah-ah-ah,” he laughed, his voice echoing. “Awfully hard to hit what you can’t touch.” He was distant now, on the other side of the cavern, standing by one of the urns. He lowered Akron to the ground and held up a finger. “A moment, Nath Dragon. Then you may have at me with all your fury.”
My blood raced. His tone and demeanor irked me. He slid his deep purple robes from his big frame, revealing a thick leather chestplate of armor. His long arms bulged with hard muscle and tattoos. He wiped the sweat from his tattooed head, rubbed it into his hands, and slid one mailed gauntlet on over the other. He reached down and wrapped his meaty hand around his crude looking war mace and nodded, closing his eyes and murmuring.
Hunt For The Hero (Book 5) Page 2
