The Dragon Wrath: Book Two of the Arlon Prophecies

by Randy McWilson

  Very hard.

  Painful hunger had quickly transformed the fleeing fugitives into outright criminals. More than one garden on more than one farm had been raided by the desperate bandits as they journeyed west. They had encountered blistering heat and blinding rain. But even as spirits and energy were dipping low, Trilyra’s prowess with a bow brought more than a sense of security; it brought a delight far more tangible.

  Arlon’s nose finally woke up.

  What’s that smell? Smoke? Food?

  He rose up with a yawn as Trilyra offered him a fist-sized piece of warm meat. He looked over in disbelief.

  “Where did you get this?” he asked.

  She smiled as he took the first of many bites. “Let’s just say that a wild boar of the woods wandered too close to a wild woman of the desert. The boar looked lonely, so I introduced him to one of my pretty little arrows. She went right to his heart. They were the perfect couple.”

  Arlon paused. The flavor was both strong and wonderful. He knew that he probably looked like a maniac as he tore into the cooked flesh, but he couldn’t have cared less.

  “I would give you more,” she said while walking away. “But we have to make it last. Plus, it’s time to talk about cutting flesh, not eating it. Grab your steel and come on.”

  _____________________________________

  Tired.

  Dirty.

  And scared.

  There was little doubt that they were a far cry from the battle-hardened warriors they needed to be to survive this quest. Trilyra paced back and forth before the ragged lineup of the four Dunamai.

  “Paymer,” she called out. “Do you remember what that coward from the Order said to you right before he ran off?”

  “I, uh, I do,” he replied.

  “Would you care to share?”

  “Well, that freak said that I didn’t…appear to have much, um, experience with a sword.”

  She squinted with an odd smile and folded her arms. “Oh, that’s not what he said.” Trilyra ventured a few steps closer. “He said that you looked like a child who had just discovered his father’s blade. Sound familiar?”

  “That’s what the guy said,” Arlon mumbled through a grin. “I clearly heard it.”

  “I wouldn’t be smiling if I were you, Arlon of Soteria!” she scolded. “I don’t think that your skills with a blade would present a threat to even a blindfolded drunk who had only one arm.”

  Paymer folded his arms. “Sounds about right,” he smirked and winked.

  “We are weeks away from Alaithia,” she observed. “Weeks. We are low on food and money. Our map is barely adequate and we are on foot. Our group is being hunted by a cursed enemy who has the clear advantage that they know us, yet we do not know them. And if the five of us are attacked, only one of us could rally much of a defense.” Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh, and we might not be on the best of terms with the Seventh Dragon…an immortal creature with the power to probably wipe out entire kingdoms.” She paused. “Have I left anything out from this miserable assessment?”

  Hort shuffled his feet. “And, uh, we are getting close to Therion lands.”

  “Exactly!” she exclaimed, before bringing her voice under control. “We will cross the Grigory soon. And then we will be in the domain of those forest devils. And I guess it’s safe to say I am the only one here who has seen the Therion?”

  Paymer’s head drooped down. “That, that’s not entirely correct.”

  All eyes locked on him.

  He didn’t look up.

  “I was probably about seven-years-old,” he began. His voice was weak and heavy with sorrow. “There was some big deal in the capital, maybe the Queen’s birthday or something. She’s always having parades and festivals and such.” He cleared his throat. “Anyway…we were headed there, my mother, and father, and little brother. And a bunch of others, of course. Guards and all. A long caravan. They, uh, they hit us at night. The Therion. The wild men. I don’t remember much, except for the fear. And the noises. I can still hear my mother screaming as those freaks dragged her away.” A glistening blob of teardrops collected on the tip of his nose. “My father was stabbed several times. The physicians thought that he would pull through, but, um, he…died. A few days later.”

  Arlon glanced up in horror.

  That’s terrible, he thought. I always thought that never knowing my father was bad. But maybe it would be worse to see him die like that.

  Mae’Lee offered Paymer the cleanest scarf she could rustle up. He wiped his face.

  “Anyway,” he continued, “it’s been just me and my brother ever since. My aunt and uncle, on my father’s side, the Queen brought them in to raise us. They, uh, they did their best, I guess. They’re good people. My aunt, she’s a lot like my father, being his sister and all. She says a lot of the same things that he did…and she kind of acts like him at times. But, uh, she’s not my father. Or my mother.”

  He fished a coin out of his pocket and held it out. “It was really tough, especially for Torrik…my little brother. So, I started learning little magic tricks to entertain him and help take his mind off of our…loss.” He flicked his hand and the coin simply vanished. “I guess, deep down, I’ve been hoping that I could make our troubles disappear.”

  Paymer finally glanced up and handed the scarf back to Mae’Lee. In an instant she discovered the gold piece inside and raised it aloft.

  “But,” he said, “the pain—like that coin there—it always seems to come back. Always. When you least expect it.”

  Silence.

  No one dared speak for a long time.

  Arlon squinted and studied his curious surroundings. Even a forest teeming with life both great and small seemed to be hushed out of respect. He stared over at Paymer.

  Wow. I can’t imagine losing my mother.

  “The Therion are vicious,” Trilyra offered barely above a whisper. “I know. Our convoy was also hit. On the way to the Karaval. Some of our people died.” She snatched her bow in a flash and pretended to take aim. “I shot at least two of them. I killed one for sure. And I’d do it again. A hundred times over.”

  “They sound positively dreadful,” Mae’Lee mumbled.

  Trilyra lowered her bow and gestured wide. “And we will be traipsing through their dangerous realm, Princess. We are trespassers. We need to be ready.”

  “What can we do?” Arlon asked.

  She hung the bow across her back and drew out a sword. “Honestly? Not much. But I was thinking that a little training just might make the difference between life and death. We practice twice a day…right after everyone wakes up, and right before sundown. Starting now.”

  Trilyra dipped the tip of her blade towards the ground and prodded a pile of sticks at her feet. With a quick round of fancy motions, she flicked a single stick at each of the Dunamai. The boys managed to catch theirs, but Mae’Lee backed away as her branch tumbled passed.

  “Sorry,” the Princess said. “But no. I’m not a fighter. I would be more of a danger to myself, rather than to anyone else.”

  Trilyra shot her a hard look. “You, uh, you’ve shot a bow before?”

  She nodded.

  “Then we can work on that later. A good army needs both archers and swordsmen.”

  “What’s up with the sticks?” Hort inquired.

  Trilyra closed in on him with a menacing stare. “Because, Hort of Thilasson, the three of you have never handled a sword properly before. You need to learn the motions and the footwork…and I sure don’t want you bleeding to death before we meet the enemy. Splinters and bloody knuckles tend to heal faster than lacerations and broken bones. But, even more than that, flexible wooden sticks make a lot less noise than a bunch of metal blades clanking against each other. It would be a terrible irony if sword practice actually led our enemies to us, don’t you think?”

  Hort nodded.

  “Good,” she said, dragging it out long and low. “So, if it’s okay with you, we will practice with wood for
a while.”

  Hort nodded again.

  Trilyra bent down and traded her blade for a stick. “Now, the first—and most important—rule of defensive sword fighting is this: the smaller they are, the safer you are.”

  The boys looked at each other.

  “The smaller what is?” Paymer asked. “The person…or their sword?”

  She smiled. “The smaller they are, the safer you are. That means that avoiding a fight is the best way to avoid getting killed. Keep your enemy small…way in the distance. If they are far away, they can’t hurt you with a sword. Sometimes the best move in a sword fight is to not fight. To run. So, if you can avoid fighting…avoid fighting.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Hort admitted.

  She locked eyes with him once again as she inched closer. “But we can’t always avoid a fight, can we, Hort?”

  “Uh, no? No. We…can’t.”

  “Exactly.” She brought her stick directly under his chin. “And when your opponent is close, and their sword is closer…you need to know how to fight.” Trilyra clutched the stick in his right hand and used it to knock hers away. “You need to know how to defend yourself. To block. Or divert.” She maneuvered her wrist in a twirling fashion and flung his stick high into the air. “Or even to disarm if need be.”

  “Nice going, Hort from the port,” Paymer teased.

  Trilyra raced two steps to her left and relieved the chuckling redhead of his wooden weapon in a similar move. “It looks like you’re not the only magician, Paymer. I just made two fake swords disappear. It’s all in the wrist.”

  Mae’Lee laughed, but kept it fairly low-key.

  Trilyra backed away and motioned for the two blushing boys to fetch their sticks. “It’s time to learn the common stabs, slices, and blocks. I’ll teach you like my cousin Helix taught me.” She raised her stand-in sword far overhead, gripping it tightly with both hands. “The first technique is called the Wood Splitter.”

  With a deliberate and powerful motion, she brought it back down in front of her as her right leg advanced forward. “You see? It’s the Wood Splitter. Just like you’re chopping a big, thick chunk of wood with an axe. Sword starts out overhead and slightly behind you. Use both hands. Arms come down together right as you take a small step with your right foot. We are going to do this over and over.”

  And they did.

  Hundreds of times.

  CHAPTER 6

  Since crossing the river just before daybreak, the ground beneath had grown considerably more rocky, and the forest above considerably more dense. At times the sun had been reduced to a thousand tiny shafts of light piercing between branches through the dusty, humid air.

  Paymer looked exhausted as he wiped the back of his hand across his sweaty brow. The trees had thinned somewhat and a patch of blue had finally come into view. “Pardon me, Captain Tireless…but can we, uh, take a break? It’s been hours since our last one.”

  “If anyone’s interested in hearing my opinion,” Arlon called out from the back of the troop, “I agree with the Dunamai of Orania.”

  “Officially, that makes three of us,” Mae’Lee piped up, quite breathless.

  Trilyra halted and spun around. She studied the area with a skeptical gaze. “I don’t like the idea of being trapped in woods this thick.”

  Arlon caught up with the rest of them and took a fast drink. “No one could find us in woods this thick.”

  “I can’t argue with you,” she replied, grabbing his water pouch and stealing a sip. “But I still don’t like it.”

  Paymer spread his arms out and turned his face upward as he stepped into a golden pool of light. “Ah, yes. Hello there, sun. I had almost forgotten what you looked like.”

  “I thought you liked the shade,” Trilyra jabbed.

  He clamped his eyes shut and continued basking in the warm glow. “Oh, I do. But the soul needs a little heavenly energy from above every now and then.”

  She snuck up stealthily and whacked him in the back of the leg with her stick. “What your soul needs is a lot more sword practice.”

  He cracked one eye open. “Whoa, whoa! We had practice this morning. Right after we crossed the Grigory in that tiny excuse of a skiff you called a boat.”

  She laughed. “That wasn’t practice. That was barely an introduction. And that so-called skiff was the only thing I could find for sale in that tiny excuse of a Soterian town.”

  “Well, my shoulders are still sore from your so-called introduction,” Paymer griped.

  “Mine, too,” Arlon noted.

  She rolled her greenish eyes. “What would you rather be…sore or dead?”

  Paymer opened his eyelids and folded his arms. “If I had my choice? Neither.”

  “You don’t get a choice,” she replied, glancing around at all of them. “Line up. It’s time to learn how to not be dead.”

  They obeyed rather sluggishly.

  She pointed. “Okay, gentlemen…show me the Wood Splitter.”

  Three sticks shot overhead and came crashing down upon the dirty leaves that littered the forest floor.

  “Again!” she called out. “Put more power in the downward motion. Keep a tight grip with both hands.” She demonstrated. “And don’t forget to step forward with your right leg. Power all the way through the swing. The goal isn’t merely to cut your opponent…your goal is to cut your opponent in half!”

  Mae’Lee grimaced and shook the long locks of her dark head. “Disgusting,” she mumbled.

  Trilyra held her hand up after about a minute of repeated swinging. “Alright…now, let’s spread apart a bit so we don’t hit each other. Show me the Tree Chopper. Both hands. Swing from right to left. Make sure your feet aren’t too close together. You need to be stable as you swing horizontally. Remember what I said this morning. It’s like you’re chopping down a big tree.” She adjusted her footing and bent slightly at the knees as they followed suit. “Like this. And left hand at the bottom of the hilt.”

  She modeled the movement a few more times before studying their performance. “Right to left. That’s good. Do that about ten times, and then switch it up. Swing the other way, left to right, with your right hand below your left on the hilt.” She paced in front of them. “Hort…hold your sword a bit higher. These two motions are your primary kill swings. You have to know them like you know your own name.” She stabbed straight out with her stick. “Later on I’ll show you the Ox Gore. That’s a powerful thrusting move, but not as deadly as a fast, hard slice, and easier to block.”

  A quick shadow rippled across their training area, and Mae’Lee glanced skyward. She stepped forward. “What’s that?”

  “What’s what?” Trilyra replied.

  Mae’Lee thrust a finger up at a dark figure circling above the tree tops. “That!”

  All sticks went down and all heads went up.

  “It’s a bird,” Arlon mumbled. “Wow. A huge bird.”

  “Not just a bird,” Paymer corrected. “That’s a falcon. A Bloodtip Falcon.” He looked over at Arlon. “Trust me, I know. Those birds are native to my kingdom. They are only found in one area…in the western reaches of the Anatellians. In the Valley of the Three Peaks.” He stared back up into the sky as the creature let out a piercing wail. “Bloodtips can grow up to five feet tall. Wingspans over fifteen feet wide.”

  Arlon frowned. “So…what is it doing here?”

  A second bird dipped into view. Trilyra raced over to her weapons. “Everyone! Grab your gear and the food! We are leaving now! Now!”

  Confusion broke out. “What’s going on?” Arlon asked frantically. “Are those falcons dangerous?”

  Trilyra slung her bow across her back and clasped her sword. She scanned the woods in all directions. “Not nearly as dangerous as the people who hunt with them.”

  “What?”

  She leaned into his face and pointed behind him. “The Therion. Run!”

  Arlon spun his head about. There was definitely some movement in the distan
ce. For a moment he thought he could hear the galloping of horse hooves on the rocky forest floor, but it might’ve been the terrified pounding of his own throbbing heart.

  “Get moving, Arlon!” Trilyra screamed, now at a full run several yards ahead. The falcons released a volley of nerve-wracking shrieks as the group sprinted among the rocks, trees, and roots as best they could.

  The echoes of charging horses grew unmistakably louder with each passing second. They were being pursued by what sounded like an entire army. Trilyra slowed down and let everyone pass. She readied her bow.

  “Keep running!” she hollered. “I’ll take up the rear guard! Go! Go!”

  Arlon glanced over his heaving shoulder as she took aim and fired. The bolt sailed past several low hanging branches and slammed into the muscular chest of the lead horse. The beast, clad in what looked like dyed skins, stumbled and rolled, tossing the mysterious rider headlong into a tree trunk.

  Arlon’s eyebrows shot up in fear.

  The wild men of the west were no longer the stuff of a Soterian mother’s overprotective discipline.

  That face! What was that white mark on the face of the wild man?

  Trilyra’s gutsy maneuver succeeded in unleashing a cascading logjam. Three other horses collided with the first fallen creature and spilled their riders like an upset applecart. A half-dozen others stumbled over them an instant later.

  It bought precious time for the Dunamai.

  “Run faster!” Trilyra screamed.

  Arlon snagged Mae’Lee’s hand as he easily lapped past the terrified Princess. They strained to catch up with Paymer and Hort who had managed a significant lead. Fortunately, the forest seemed to be growing brighter and the ground less rocky.

  “There’s a clearing ahead!” Paymer yelled back. “And more. Hurry!”

  A clearing?!

  Arlon wasn’t too thrilled with the idea of exiting the relative safety of the dense woods. Surely open ground would greatly favor their mounted pursuers.

  And that’s when he saw it.