Siege At The Settlements (Book 6)

by Craig Halloran

  He reached out and felt a hard object. It was Brenwar’s chest, covered in the Cloth of Concealment.

  He rubbed his aching head. Eyed the bridge.

  “How in Narnum am I going to get across that bridge and find them?”

  CHAPTER 25

  Gorlee’s backside was sore. They’d ridden mile after mile, league after league. The sack over his head was suffocating. For the first time, he smelled and tasted his own sweat, which dripped from his head. He wasn’t even sure if he’d ever sweated before. He’d never felt so miserable.

  Is this what heroes do?

  He had plenty of time to think. Plan. Scheme. But he was exhausted. Blinded by the sack, the only comfort he had was the pounding rain that came and went. He could feel the sun between the clouds sometimes on his face and back. Sometimes that only made the stuffy air worse. Everything was bad, but at least he lived.

  Suffer. I guess heroes suffer. Not sure I want to be a hero anymore.

  Wrists tied, fingers aching, he kept a tight grip on the saddle. The satyr woman, Faylan, didn’t speak much. Sometimes he wondered if she’d left him altogether, only to hear her bark an order or scold a draykis.

  And to think, if I don’t hear her, I miss her. I actually miss her. That’s a sick thing.

  Faylan was all he had. The link between him and the world. The draykis were something different. Part dragon. Part man. Part living and dead. They made his skin crawl. They smelled like death. Colorful conversation was out.

  Who’d have thought I’d miss all that dwarven grunting and frowning?

  It wasn’t all bad, however. Gorlee had hope. But he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to a person that didn’t. The armies of Barnabus treated plenty of people the way they were treating him. Moved people from place to place in caged wagons. It was horrible, all the things he’d seen since the takeover started. The desolate. The desperate. The depraved. There was no hope for them except people like him, the dwarves, the elves, Legionnaires, Bayzog and Nath Dragon. Those numbers seemed to be dwindling, though. And in his case, he could shape-change and make a run for it the moment the opportunity presented itself. At least, he could if he got out of his mystic bonds, if only for a moment.

  Have to stick it out. Do something meaningful. Help the cause.

  He wanted to change. Be more comfortable in the saddle. He’d gotten used to riding, but not so long and never blinded, suffocating, or with his wrists bound. For the first time in his life, his back ached and his muscles were sore. It made him wonder what race made for the most comfortable riders. He rode often as a dwarf and their bodies were durable and hardy, but the lithe frames of elves always seemed at ease in the saddle. It was hopeless though. Any change, and those cords would still constrict him. It left him feeling helpless and afraid.

  How much longer can I suffer? Your first significant plan might have been your worst plan, Gorlee.

  The daylight slowly dimmed through the sack, and eventually his horse came to a stop. He could still sense the presence of the draykis holding the reins and there were other sounds farther ahead.

  “This is far enough,” he heard the voice of Faylan say. “Get him down.”

  A powerful arm shoved him out of the saddle. He landed hard on the ground and cracked his head on a rock, drawing bright spots and a burst of pain.

  Faylan chuckled. “Maybe you draykis aren’t so bad after all. Now get him up and follow me.”

  “Get up,” a draykis said.

  Gorlee made it to his knees and started to rise to his feet.

  A heavy foot slammed into his back, sending him to the ground again. He wanted to scream.

  “Enough of that,” Faylan intervened. “We need to get moving. I’m certain you’ll get a chance to play with him later. Or at least get to watch something else play with him. It’ll depend on what the Priestess wants done with him.”

  “What about the horse?” a draykis said.

  “I’ll let you and your kind decide. I’m not sure if horse meat tastes good to you or not.”

  “No!” Gorlee blurted out. Instantly, the cords constricted on his throat. Urk! He couldn’t breathe. He fell back to his knees.

  “Ha! Ha! Ha!” Faylan laughed. “It’s always good to see Nath Dragon on his knees. Get used to that position of submission.”

  Gorlee could see her in his mind. Her stout frame with her hands on her hips. It infuriated him.

  “Now get up,” she said. “I can’t have you crawling on your hands and knees already. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Jordak’s Crossing. The framework of the stone and iron bridge was nothing short of enormous. Spectacular. Ancient. Foreboding. Bayzog sweated. The heat from the fiery river below made all his clothes stick to his body. It was humid. Hot. Nasty. His enemies that led them from one side to the other had never smelled worse either. He fought the urge to cover his nose.

  You’re a goblin, remember?

  And that was what bothered him. The potion. Normally, the enchanted liquid would last a day, maybe longer, but in this case it was split three ways. Morning approached. If anything, they maybe had an hour. Probably less. And it had already taken half an hour to get across the bridge.

  What do I do when we change?

  He held the Elderwood Staff close to his chest. It didn’t look like much now, but it gave him comfort. He ran through an inventory of spells in his mind. I know what I can do. But what will they do?

  Brenwar and Ben stood nearby. They weren’t the worst pair of goblins he’d ever seen, but they weren’t the best either. Their yellow eyes were watching all around and their ruddy fingers fidgeted with their weapons. The orcen soldier had left them under the guard of the lizard men minutes earlier, and had taken their horses into the darkness of another campsite.

  Bayzog wandered closer to Brenwar. The lizard men eyed him, but remained still with their spears crossed over their chests and tongues flickering out of their mouths occasionally. He spoke in Goblin to Brenwar.

  “This magic will not last much longer.”

  Brenwar’s goblin brows lifted and he said, “Good, then we can start killing them.”

  “Hush, goblins,” a lizard man hissed.

  “Hush yourself,” Brenwar spat back in Goblin.

  The lizard man lowered its spear on Brenwar’s chest.

  Brenwar slapped it away. “I’ll make new boots from those scales of yours and a necklace with your teeth, Snake Belly.”

  “Quiet,” Bayzog said to Brenwar in Goblin. He stepped in front of the spear and pushed Brenwar back. “Sorry,” he said in the common tongue.

  The lizard man’s tongue flickered and it stepped back. Suddenly, the lizard men snapped to attention. The orc leader approached, swords rattling on its wide hips. It stopped and tossed a small sack that Brenwar snatched out of the air.

  “That’s your payment,” the orc said, “Now you go.”

  Bayzog could sense a smile behind the orc’s throaty voice.

  “What’s this?” Brenwar said in Common. “Coppers and a few silvers? That’s insulting.”

  “Perhaps you feel our forces are being unfair … little goblin?”

  “We had a price arranged already,” Bayzog said. He had to sell it. Goblins were just as greedy as anyone else in Nalzambor and they weren’t bad negotiators either. He snatched the sack away from Brenwar and tossed it to the orc soldier. “We’ll have the steeds back or you’ll bring us back twenty times that.”

  The orc’s big chin bobbed back and forth and it showed some rotting teeth. It pulled out two smaller sacks and tossed them over.

  “No more negotiating. Be on with you.”

  Bayzog checked the bags. It wasn’t enough to cover the cost of a donkey, but that didn’t matter at the moment. Moving on did. He tossed one sack to Brenwar and one to Ben. Something caught his eye. Brenwar’s beard was growing.

  “We go!” Bayzog said with anger. “But I’ll let my buyers from Barnabus kn
ow about this!” He pointed to Ben and Brenwar and started to head up the road. “Come, goblin brothers!”

  “I’ll certainly not be going without more gold for those horses,” Brenwar argued back. “Now give me back my horses or give me more money.”

  Bayzog wanted to take his staff and whack Brenwar in the head, but he should have known. Dwarves were as fierce as negotiators as they were as fighters. Dwarves parting with their possessions was a serious matter. Sleeping with a snoring bugbear would have been easier.

  “Come, brothers!” Bayzog demanded.

  Ben came, but Brenwar ignored him. He was almost on the orc’s toes when the dwarf’s beard started growing faster.

  “Say!” the orc said with its eyes popping open. “What’s going on with that face of yours?”

  “What do you mean?” Brenwar said. He followed the orc’s eyes and looked down. Filled his fist with a handful of hair. “Oh….”

  “Yer not no Goblin,” the orc roared. Its meaty neck turned toward Bayzog. “What are you?”

  Bayzog felt his limbs stretch taller and taller. All the lizard men hissed. He locked eyes with the orc and said, “Yes, I am an elf, Orc.” He raised his staff over his head, closed his eyes, and yelled. “Gustoovanleeght!”

  A sunburst brightened the sky.

  Shock and dismay shouted from the lips of the orc and lizard men.

  Brenwar swung his hammer in devastating fashion.

  Crack! Bang! Whop!

  The orc soldier went down. Several blinded lizard men screeched.

  “I can’t see,” Ben cried out.

  Bayzog took his hand. “Come.” He led them down the roads into the woods. Brenwar’s heavy footsteps were right behind them.

  “You better have more than pretty lights up your sleeve, Elf,” Brenwar shouted from behind. “I could always stay back and fight them.”

  “Come on, Dwarf! There’s no time. We have to move! We have to hide.”

  Bayzog could hear the soldiers scrambling. Orders shouted. In moments, the forces of Jordak’s Crossing would be on top of them.

  Hiding and escaping are not my best skills. And without the horses, they’ll be on us in moments.

  He pulled Ben along. The rangy, blinded man stayed with him stride for stride.

  A war horn sounded and a great bell rang.

  “Guzan!” Ben said. “We’re in for it, aren’t we.”

  CHAPTER 27

  Fifty yards from the bridge, Nath took cover and waited. His keen dragon sight could pick out most details, day or night. Only one detail mattered. Jordak’s Crossing was armed. Heavily armed. Soldiers of Barnabus were posted all along the bridge in pairs.

  There must be thirty of them.

  He sighed and rubbed his aching ribs, shoving two of them back together. Pop! Pop!

  He eyed the bridge. Its towers were like black obelisks against the stark night sky, with more than twenty yards between them. The bridge itself was over a hundred yards long and twenty wide. A marvel over the fiery Jordak River.

  He shook his head and took a breath. He was tired. Hurt. All of his bones felt like jelly under his skin. He needed rest for the first time since he’d awoken from his twenty-five year hibernation.

  Did fighting that grey scaler take so much out of me?

  He felt something burning inside him where the blade had entered his side at the settlement. The irritation was worse. He opened up Brenwar’s chest and peered inside. Several vials popped into view, in tiny racks. He rummaged through them one at a time. There were things he could use, but didn’t want to waste any. It wasn’t as if he could go back to Dragon Home and get more, and something told him not to ask Bayzog to make any.

  Can’t always rely on potions, and the Cloth of Concealment is too small for me.

  He fingered a bright yellow vial.

  These I don’t mind so much.

  As much as he hated to do it, he grabbed the healing vial and drank. Tingles erupted inside him. His ragged breathing eased. He closed the chest, stood up, and tucked it under his arm.

  Got to get over there.

  The biting in his side had eased. He rolled his shoulders and pulled them back.

  Huh, I just vanquished a full-grown dragon. With no Fang and no Akron.

  He nodded. Another rush went through him. There were many dragons, and they came in many shapes and sizes, but though grey scalers were not the biggest, they were contenders for toughest and deadliest. Nath’s chest swelled. Pride overtook him. His head was rushing. He ran his fingers though his mane of hair and walked out into the middle of the road, headed straight for the bridge.

  “If a dragon can’t stop me, then those soldiers certainly can’t.”

  Ready for anything, he approached with a smile. He made it about ten yards and stopped.

  What am I doing?

  It hit him. Wisdom. It conquered his pride. The objective was to get over the bridge without drawing any attention to himself or the others.

  What are you doing, Nath? If the soldiers have them and they hear me coming, they’ll be put in further harm’s way.

  He slid back off the road and hunkered down. He could imagine Ben, Bayzog and Brenwar tied or caged up somewhere. He squinted his eyes, but the heat from the river obscured his vision almost halfway across.

  Time, Nath, Time.

  Suddenly, a Battle Horn sounded. An iron bell rang. His thoughts raced.

  Brenwar!

  The soldiers turned their backs to him and peered toward the other end of the bridge. Nath rushed through the high grasses along the road. The soldiers were moving. Organizing. Shouting orders back and forth among them. Seconds later, two-thirds of the soldiers trotted across the bridge and out of sight.

  Now that’s excellent timing.

  Still hiding in the grasses near the bridge entrance, he waited a moment longer. Four soldiers were left standing guard, talking softly to one another. The twos and threes posted along the bridge were now ones.

  All lizard men. Good and not good.

  Lizard men were stout soldiers, but they weren’t the better trackers. They weren’t very good on horseback either. Horses and lizard men didn’t get along well. It was a good sign.

  They’re chasing someone.

  Orcs and gnolls were other cases. The gnolls were like hounds and the orcs had a keen sense of hunting things. Brenwar, Ben and Bayzog were formidable, but being hounded by thirty, maybe more? If that was the case, that would be deadly.

  Quietly, he moved out of the brush and walked onto the bridge.

  The lizard men continued speaking to one another, facing the other side of the bridge.

  “Ahem,” Nath said, keeping his distance.

  Startled, the lizard men turned with spears lowered.

  “I say, can you tell me, does this bridge lead to Narnum?”

  “Getss,” one said, poking a spear his way. “Leaves chest.”

  “And part with all my personal belongings?” Nath said, turning the chest away. “Why, I need to return my new trousers and boots back to Narnum. They don’t fit these scaly legs and feet of mine.”

  All four of the lizard men peered at him. Their reptilian eyes narrowed even further.

  “You have scaless,” one said. “How iss that?”

  Stupid lizard men. Orcs with scales.

  “I was going to ask you that,” Nath said, “but why are yours so drab and ugly? And those faces on top of them. I hope that’s a mask. It’s hideous.”

  A lizard man took a jab at him.

  Nath slid away.

  “Easy now,” he said. “So is this the bridge to Narnum or not?”

  One lizard man whispered to another. It nodded and grabbed the horn hanging on its neck.

  “What’s that?” Nath said, “I didn’t catch it?”

  “Leaves the trunk.”

  Nath grabbed the iron handle on the side of the trunk and swung it back and forth gingerly.

  “I’m afraid I cannot part with it.”

  A
ll the lizard men crept closer.

  “We kills you thens.”

  Nath’s trunk laden arm kept swinging. He smiled.

  “Alright thensssss,” he mocked. “You can have it.” He wound the trunk around in a huge windmill circle and let the chest fly. It struck the nearest lizard man in the ribs and toppled him over.

  Spears sailed through the air.

  One soared by Nath’s ear. The second bounced off his chest. The third he snatched from the air. He snapped it in half like a twig.

  “You are the worst bridge greeters I’ve ever met.” He dropped the broken spears and they clattered on the bridge. “Who is your superior? I wish to speak with him.”

  The lizard man with the horn raised it to his lips.

  Nath leapt the distance between them. Snatched the horn and crushed it in his fist. “Now, now,” Nath said. “It’s rude to blow your horn when no one else has one to play as well.”

  The lizard man gaped and blinked.

  “Did you just wink at me?” Nath said, grabbing the lizard man by its armor’s collar. “That’s strange.” Behind him, swords scraped out of their scabbards. The one he held slipped out a dagger.

  Simultaneously, all the lizard men struck.

  Gick. Gick. Gick.

  Nath didn’t feel a thing. He shoved them all away.

  “Really?” he said. “You just saw a spear bounce off me and you thought you could still harm me? What are you, lizard men?”

  One charged, sword raised to strike.

  Nath ducked inside in the blink of an eye and punched.

  Whop!

  The lizard man and his sword bounced on the bridge walk.

  “Next,” Nath said, dusting off his claws. He yawned. “I’m waiting.”

  Wary, both lizard men approached with their swords ready.

  “I don’t think that is going to work.” Nath shook his head. “You should have figured that out by now.”

  “Diess!” one said.

  Both charged. Both lunged.

  Nath leapt high in the air.

  Below him, the lizard men’s heads snapped up just as he landed on top of them. Nath knocked them out with single blows.