Dragon Bones And Tombstones (Book 2)

by Craig Halloran

  “Very well, Nath Dragon… your enemies are close.”

  I looked around.

  “I can see that.”

  “No, we are not your enemy. Just your captors. The Clerics of Barnabus, now they are your enemies.”

  My stomach churned at the mention of their name.

  “And you would be selling this dragon to my enemies, which would make you my enemy. All the dragon poachers are my enemies. So please, don’t try to use clever words to imply that you are not my enemy, Corzan.”

  “As you wish,” He shrugged. “If it makes you feel better to be my sworn enemy, then I guess I can live with that. But, the Clerics of Barnabus are not my allies, either. I have my own ambitions, Dragon. My own wants, needs and desires. Lord of the Burrow goblins? Do you think I was born for that?” He slammed his fist down on his throne. “No! I am cursed by it!” He clutched his hairy fingers. “Look at these hands. Have you ever seen a man with such hands before?”

  “Have you ever seen one with a dragon-arm before?”

  Corzan brightened. A glimmer of humanity returned back in his eyes.

  “Huh… touché. But, honestly, a dragon arm or goblin hands, which would you take?”

  I smiled and said, “I think you know the answer to that. Now, can you back up and tell me about this issue with the Clerics?”

  “They pay well for the dragons, but information on you as well. They want you dead, but I need you alive.”

  “Pardon?” I should have been elated by the statement, but I wasn’t. Alive for what? “First things first.” I pointed at the Blue Razor.

  “I trapped the dragon to trap you. And my plan worked out all so well, thanks to your friend, the dwarf.”

  “Me!” Brenwar objected. “I had nothing to do with that. He lies.”

  “Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, Brenwar Bolderguild. My familiar made the suggestion to you when you were miles away.”

  “What familiar?” I asked.

  Corzan held out his hands.

  “Come, come to me, little creature,” Corzan beckoned.

  I followed Corzan’s eyes to Brenwar’s black beard.

  “What’s every one looking at?” Brenwar said, bunching up.

  That’s when I saw it. A tiny face popped out of his beard. A pixie! As it crawled out, its mosquito-like wings came to life. Brenwar gawped, swung, and missed as it darted over to Corzan and landed on his shoulder. I could hear the faintest whisper on its tiny black lips now. “Dragons beyond the shale.”

  “Would it kill you to comb that thing every once in a while?” I said.

  Brenwar pointed at the pixie, saying, “Nothing lives in a dwarf's beard without permission. You’ll be paying for that, you little pixie—you will.” He slapped his hands together.

  The pixie squeaked and dove into Corzan’s hood.

  You see, I told you about those familiars. It just proved Corzan knew we were here all along, but what did he need me for?

  “So, let me understand this. The Clerics put a bounty on me. And you wanted to catch me to turn in to the Clerics? Or did you have something more zany in mind?”

  “The price on your head is high, but I don’t value gold. I value magic, and they cannot offer me any more than I can get for myself. No, what I need is something else entirely. And the Clerics, well they gave me an idea on how I could obtain what I do not have.”

  I folded my arms across my chest and said, “And what might that be?”

  “There is an object of power, an artifact that I cannot acquire.” He licked his lips. “I want you to get it for me.”

  “And what makes you think I can get it if you can’t?”

  “I think my evil nature denies me access to such things.”

  “So you’ve tried?”

  “And failed, so to speak.”

  “So,” I said, “What and where is it?”

  “At the top of this mountain is an ancient graveyard. Inside a tomb is an object of power. A Thunderstone. Bring it back to me.”

  The recesses of my mind sparked with memory. A Thunderstone. My father had mentioned those before. There were many of them scattered in the world, each with different powers of its own. This was something worth looking into―not so much for Corzan but for myself.

  “So, just walk in there, get it, and bring it back. What’s up there that I need to know about?”

  “A guardian, is all.”

  “What kind of guardian?”

  Corazon formed a smile that could crack stone as he tapped his finger tips together.

  “A troublesome one.”

  “Pretty vague. So, am I to venture to the graveyard and battle this troublesome guardian unarmed?”

  Corzan rubbed his chin with his hairy hand.

  “No. You can have your weapons and gear. You can take your friend. Just bring me the Thunderstone, and I’ll let you and the dragon go.”

  Let us go. I didn’t think so. Magic users were notorious for going back on their word, both good and evil. They always had some stipulation that they failed to mention. So Corzan’s words were no good. But I didn’t have much choice in the matter, either.

  “How much time do I have?”

  “Not much. The Clerics of Barnabus will be here in two days, if not sooner. The climb up the steep mountain is long and treacherous. Still, you have plenty of time.”

  “And what happens if I’m not back before then?”

  “I would suggest you return before they come if you want this dragon freed. They won’t want any delays, and I’ve no desire to agitate them.”

  “And what will you do when they arrive and the dragon is gone?”

  Corzan laughed, a wicked sound that suggested I’d been duped.

  “If I have the stone, that won’t be an issue. Just bring it to me, and all things will fall in order. Do we have an agreement?”

  Never make deals with wizards, magic users, sorcerers and especially necromancers. Never… Ever!

  Everyone said that, but they still made them.

  A wizard’s word is never good.

  That’s another one I heard all the time. The best thing you could do when dealing with a magic user was to not put it in writing and watch your behind.

  “We have one,” I said.

  “Get your gear and go, Nath Dragon. And be wary of the scales.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Still in the rain, we made our way up the mountain like two ants on a giant's belly, the top too far to see. The climb wasn’t so difficult, not for me anyway, but Brenwar struggled to keep up.

  “Slow down, I don’t have those long legs like yours,” Brenwar huffed from behind me.

  Like I said, dwarves would rather dig than climb. Digging just wasn't prudent at this time. And I’d already spent an hour convincing Brenwar that climbing was better than trying to find another secret tunnel. Of course, he seemed to inspect every rock along the way.

  “I’m going as slow as I can,” I yelled back.

  “Well don’t go too slow.”

  “But you said to slow down. Now you don’t want me to go too slow?”

  Below me, I could see Brenwar looking below him. It was a long way down to where we started, a simple slip would be the beginning of a long painful tumble.

  “Just keep moving,” he grumbled.

  Like I said, it wasn’t the worst climb for me, but I had Brenwar tethered by rope to me just in case. He didn’t like that―I could tell―but he didn’t protest, either.

  “Just tug if you want me—”

  “Keep moving!”

  Up I went.

  Two days. That seemed like plenty of time to make it up the mountain and back. It would only take half a day to make it to the top and less than that to make it back down. I couldn’t imagine retrieving a Thunderstone would take much longer. Except for the issue with the guardian. Whatever that might be. And why Corzan couldn’t handle it, but could handle me, I didn’t understand. Magic items, for the most part, could be used by good or evil. There
was something he wasn’t telling me. So it must be something I could do that he could not. Good for me.

  I clutched the ledge with my dragon-clawed hand and pulled myself up to the next ridge. Brenwar’s stubby fingers made it to the lip, and I pulled him up by the back of his armor.

  He rolled up to one knee, wiped the rainwater from his eyes, and combed out his beard with his fingers. He shook his head at me before turning away. That pixie had gotten to him.

  The valley below us was a wondrous sight of black forest underneath the lantern of the moonlight. Even with all the rain, it was still something to behold. So peaceful, one wouldn’t expect any danger up here.

  “Look,” Brenwar said, untying the rope around his waist.

  The ledge we were on was moss covered, with tracks that looked like an old road.

  “Better than climbing,” I said as I readied my bow.

  Something caught my eye. In the distant moonlight, I saw something sail across the sky, flapping its wings like a bird of prey before disappearing into the night. It could have been a dragon, but all I could think of was the winged-ape. Still, it was hard to tell in all the darkness and rain. Even with my keen eyes. For all I knew, it was just a really big bat.

  The trail we took was steep, winding around the mountain like a giant snake. I wondered what had carved it from the mountain and why it didn’t go all the way to the bottom. Oddly, it had started at the top. Perhaps they, whoever they were, had started at the top but never made it to the bottom. I’d seen stranger things.

  The cold rain pelted my face like tiny icicles, and the whipping wind made my bones feel brittle. It was moment like this that I missed the city, so soft and warm and amenable. And the women, oh how I missed their soft lips and compliments. It had been a while since I’d seen one, but fortunately many had burned a lasting impression in my memory. It was funny how my thoughts drifted to women at times like this.

  The more I walked, the more my leg ached, until I finally had to stop and take a seat. The moonlight faded as it passed to the other side of the mountain, leaving us alone in the pitch black. It was like a cold, windy tomb, alone on the mountain, biting and unforgiving. I longed for the sun already, but that was hours away, and we still had miles to go at least. I dipped my head down and closed my eyes, trying to think of the sunnier times.

  “You should rest, Dragon.” Brenwar said. “It’s been a long time, and your limp is getting worse.”

  “Is it that noticeable?”

  “It is to me. How about I take a look at it?”

  I could hear the sound of concern in Brenwar’s voice, and the truth was my leg should have healed up by now. But every so often you got a stubborn wound; one that festered and throbbed like a pulsating cyst. Still, pain was a steady reminder of what the Blue Razor was going through. I could live with a little pain; I felt guilty for even stopping. I closed my eyes again. I just needed a little rest. I brushed my mane of hair away from my face

  “Just give me a few minutes, Brenwar. I’ll be fine.”

  A minute couldn’t have passed before everything fell quiet. The wind stopped. The rain as well. I felt the hairs on my neck standing.

  “That’s odd.” Wiping my soaked hair from my face, I opened my eyes. “We’ve been on top of many mountains, but I’ve never known the wind to stop before.”

  “Me neither,” Brenwar said, extending his arm.

  I groaned all the way back up to my feet. So far as I knew, nothing could stop the wind. Sure, controlling the wind was one thing, but stopping it was another. Of course, the wind could stop itself I suppose. Father always said the Earth, Wind, Water and Fire all had minds of their own.

  “Follow me,” I said.

  I churned up the trail, every step as heavy as the last, determined to make it to the top by dawn. As suddenly as the wind had stopped, it returned, brisk, more so than before. It gave me little relief, as my gut told me something was wrong. After all, we were heading to a graveyard, and there was no telling what kind of spirits and forces resided there. Cold rain splattering my face, I pushed on.

  At last, we crested the top, and the rays of the rising sun caught my eyes. The warmth on my face invigorated me.

  “Glad that’s over,” I said, putting my hands on my hips. “It should be easier going down than coming up.” I slapped Brenwar on the shoulder. “Let’s take a look around, shall we?”

  The mountain top was a grassy plain that stretched as far as I could see. In the distance, I saw the greater mountain ranges of Nalzambor and their snow capped peaks. The grass and weeds were tall, the ground barren in some places, and I had to walk awhile until the first tombstone appeared. It was tall and marked in a language I could not read―and I could read a lot of languages, but I’d never seen anything like this before.

  “Can you make anything of this?” I said.

  Brenwar squinted at the headstone when he snarled.

  “Giants!”

  I took a closer look.

  “No, it’s not giants. Too small. And just because you can’t read it doesn’t mean it’s giants.”

  As we walked, the tombstones appeared in more clusters. Some cracked, others broken, many almost completely covered in moss and roots. On stone marking in particular was three stories tall and half as wide. I couldn’t imagine how such a large stone made its way to the top of the mountain, but giants could account for that.

  “Told you, giants,” Brenwar said.

  I shrugged. If there were any giants, they’d have to have died long ago. But I didn’t care about that. I just wanted to find the tomb that held the Thunderstone. I rubbed the back of my head. I didn’t see what why it should be so difficult for Corzan to come up here and get it himself.

  “Find anything?”

  “No!” Brenwar said.

  “Well, you should be able to find a tomb anywhere beneath this cemetery.”

  For an hour, Brenwar had stomped over the grass, the ground, the stone sarcophagi... and I would suspect he’d have found something by now, but he hadn’t. So many graves, hundreds of them at least. Some small enough for a halfling, others big enough for ogres. He glared at me, hoisted his hammer over his head, and brought it down.

  “NO!” I yelled.

  Too late. Brenwar’s hammer smashed into the shell of a stone sarcophagus.

  CRACK!

  It sounded like the earth split open.

  “Are you trying to wake the dead! Have you gone mad!”

  “There’s a giant in there!” He yelled back.

  “A dead giant, maybe! Brenwar, why did you do that?”

  Chest out, war-hammer hanging in his grip, he laughed at me.

  “Take a look for yourself.”

  There it was: a staircase leading down.

  “Well done,” I said.

  “Never doubt a dwarf.”

  I pinched my nose. “Ew… that’s bad.” I looked at him and said, “You first, then.”

  He looked at me.

  I said, “Well it’s your discovery.”

  “Certain—”

  A cloud of dark smoke creeped out from within. A grey fog above fell over us. Both of us coughed as we stepped back. That eerie feeling returned as the wind died again. Death. Something was shuffling up the stairs, and it wasn’t alone.

  CHAPTER 18

  There’s nothing worse than the smell of rotting flesh in the morning. Nose pinched, stomach knotted, I backed from the dark mist as I slid Fang from his sheath. I retched. And that’s when the first ghoul appeared.

  Ghouls. Creepy long fingered fiends with yellow skin and bright green eyes. They spilled out from the hole in all shapes and sizes, arms outstretched, mouths frothing, each making its own ghastly sigh. They were men once, now turned to something darker, lingering between life and death by cursed threads of magic. My first impulse was to run, let them spill out, scatter―and then take them one by one―but it was too late for that. Like a hive of bees, they swarmed and struck fast.

  “Fiends!” B
renwar roared. “I’ll stomp you back into your dark hole. Come on!”

  Brenwar smashed one in the face and another in the chest, knocking it to the ground. It was a good start, but where there had been ten, now there were twenty. We were in danger, grave danger. Forgive the pun.

  “Let’s get out of this, Brenwar! Quit swinging and start running!”

  I toppled one over with a cut to its knee. The best thing I could do was slow them down. They weren’t so easy to kill. Ghouls are terrors. Ghastly things that crawl in and out of dark places in the night. The truth is, I’d never seen one in daylight before, and never so many all at once. The daylight gave us a little bit of an edge, but the fog didn’t help. Where that came from, I’d never know.

  Two closed in on either side of me, as fast as well trained soldiers. Ghouls, unlike most undead things, are pretty fast, and just as ugly, too. I leapt backward in time to see them crash into each other. Another pair of hands seized hold of me, a horrible face opening up to take a bite of my dragon arm. I ripped my arm from its grasp and punched it the jaw, drawing forth an eerie howl. They could still feel something, it seemed. Oh, and their bites. They can be quite deadly, so don’t ever let them sink their teeth into you.

  Brenwar slugged another one with his war-hammer, sending it careening into a tombstone.

  “Quit holding back, Dragon! They’re already dead!”

  I’d become so accustomed to holding back in a fight, I’d forgotten what it was like to let loose. It had been a long time. And what Brenwar was suggesting sounded really good. But was he right, or was he wrong? I swiped another one in the leg. They were everywhere now. I ducked, dodged and dove. Struck, swung and stabbed. I crippled some, slowed most, but where one fell, another rose.

  I huffed and panted. They were wearing me down, and my bum leg wasn’t doing much good. A steady erosion, they came undeterred. A nick here, a cut there, and I was bleeding from just about everywhere.

  “Nath!”

  I couldn’t even see Brenwar, just a mass of bodies where the voice came from.