Grey Cloak stuck two men in the back and clobbered the third in the head. “I don’t know! Now I have to fight them all!”
“What am I supposed to do?”
“They’re barbarians. Think of something!” Grey Cloak ran from the pack of raving men.
He moved to higher ground and pierced the hand of one climbing behind him. He leapt from one stack of stones to the other. The barbarians chased him like a pack of white apes.
“Streak, I could use a little help!”
Streak swooped down and sprayed the barbarians with smoke. “I told you I was out of juice!”
The blanket of smoke allowed Grey Cloak to navigate away from the horde. He dropped down from the rocks, landed behind a barbarian, and stuck the man in the back. The barbarian spasmed, dropped his sword, and fell.
“Keep spitting that smoke! It’s helping!” The haze didn’t hinder Grey Cloak at all. He could hear the barbarians scuffling and grunting between the rocks. He slipped into a crevice, waited, and gored another man in the back. “They fall like great timbers.”
Dyphestive shouted at the top of his lungs, “Come and get me, savages!”
Grey Cloak popped out of the smoky lair in time to see a pair of barbarians charging his brother. Dyphestive braced himself for the attack. The barbarians passed right through him and smashed into the wall. Dyphestive walked away with the axe slung over his shoulder, almost smiling. A barbarian dove through him. Two more collided.
“Brilliant!” Grey Cloak said.
A bloodthirsty cry caught his ear. He looked up in time to see a barbarian jump on top of him. They crashed into the snow and rolled through the blood and dirt.
“I’m going to cut your ears off, elf, and make a necklace!” the barbarian said.
Grey Cloak put a knee in the man’s gut and tried to shove him off. More barbarians piled on top of him, the load of men overwhelming him. They crushed him underneath their brawny weight. He was pinned down, unable to move, with sweaty savages all over him. This is not the way I want to go. He cried out, “Dyphestive, do something!”
Dyphestive watched his brother get overrun in a tide of musclebound barbarians. They crushed him in knot of limbs and sinew that punched, kicked, and poked at him.
“Get off of him!” he cried out. He tried grabbing a man to pull him away, but his fingers passed right through the body.
“Ha ha ha, it’s over, ghost!” said Black Wolf, the leader of the Wolves in the Rock. “Your mystical tricks have come to an end.” He swung his long sword off his shoulder and pointed it at Dyphestive. “And when you become flesh and blood, I’ll run you through.”
“Take me. Spare him,” he pleaded.
“We are the Wolves from the Rocks. We don’t spare anybody.” Black Wolf flexed his mighty arms, lifted his eyes to the sky, and let out an earsplitting howl. “Oooowuuuuul! Ice Vale is ours, now and forever!” He spotted Streak circling in the sky. He pointed his sword at Streak then to his men with short bows positioned in the stands. “Archers, kill that little dragon! We feast on dragon flesh tonight!”
32
The Cloak of Legends buffered some of the barbarians’ blows and cuts. The ones it didn’t absorb, Grey Cloak felt every bit of. “Ooof!”
One of the brutes connected a foot with his belly. A blade sliced across his cheek.
I have to get out of this!
He tried to worm his way out and make a run for it. Every time he squirmed free, strong, clutching hands brought him down again and pummeled him.
They’re going to kill me.
Clinging to the Rod of Weapons, he reached down deep, summoned his wizardry, and let it build inside him. His body burned like fire from head to toe. He let the power loose.
Boooomph!
Bodies of barbarians went flying in all directions. They slammed into rocks, hit the arena wall, and skipped through the snow.
Grey Cloak rose to one knee. Steam came off his cloak, and the snow around him melted. He propped himself up on the Rod of Weapons and trembled.
“Brother, you live!” Dyphestive shouted.
“Aye, but I’m not sure I like it.” Everything in his body tingled with pain. He struggled to stand. “I can hardly stand. I could use a hand.”
Dyphestive’s hand passed right through him. “I can’t. I’m useless.”
Most of the barbarians were down and out. A few regained their feet, shook their heads, and stumbled through the snow.
Black Wolf stood on the rocks, shouting orders. “Archers!” He pointed to Grey Cloak and Dyphestive. “Kill them!”
Arrows cut through Dyphestive’s body and bounced off Grey Cloak’s cloak. They made a run for it into the catacombs of rock.
Grey Cloak huddled down in a niche and broke out in a cold sweat. “I feel awful.”
Arrows whistled over their heads and clacked off the rocks.
Dyphestive peeked out from cover, and an arrow whizzed through his face. “That’s an odd sensation. If we can reach the tunnels, we can make a run for it. Hmmm, but the doors are chained shut.”
“And you won’t be able to run on your busted ankle.”
“You gave me the wrong potion. How long will this last? And I can hop fast.”
“I don’t know.” Grey Cloak fumbled through his pockets. His tired eyes couldn’t tell which potion was which. He squinted. “How many of them are out there?”
“Scores are in the stands, but they’re moving into the township. I can see plumes of smoke in the distance. It looks like Black Wolf wants to finish us off with the few men he has left.”
“Where’s Streak?”
Dyphestive craned his neck. “I don’t see him.”
“Probably hiding. Smart.” Grey Cloak winced. They were running out of options, and he could barely keep his eyes open. Summoning his wizardry had drained him. “Well, brother, try not to look when they kill me.”
“Don’t say that.” Dyphestive’s eyes grew. “On second thought, how do you feel about being eaten alive?”
“What are you talking about?” Grey Cloak tried to climb to his feet, pushed up, and slid back down again. “Ugh, everything hurts. Tell me what it is.”
“It looks like the Riskers joined the barbarians in the hunt.”
He looked up at his brother. “Magnolia and Dirklen?”
“No, the middling dragons. They’re crawling out of the stands. It appears they’ve taken an interest in us.” Dyphestive gave him a solemn look. “It’s been a really bad day, hasn’t it?”
“Don’t start complaining now. After all, this was your idea.” He pulled back the folds of his cloak and dug into one of his pockets. “If we’re going to go out, we don’t have to go alone.”
“Well, they can’t kill me, at least, not at the moment,” Dyphestive said. “But on the lighter side, soon enough, you might be an apparition like me—or Dalsay.”
“Funny. You know, you find the oddest times to develop your sense of humor.” Grey Cloak lifted the Figurine of Heroes. The black faceless carving of a man was as smooth as jade and cool in his hands. “Say hello to our little friend.”
“And if this doesn’t go our way?” Dyphestive inquired.
“Then I suppose someone else will have to save the world.”
The approaching barbarians were engulfed in an explosion of bright flames. Men screamed.
“What was that?” Grey Cloak asked.
“One of the middling dragons attacked the barbarians,” Dyphestive said in disbelief. “Now it’s attacking the other Risker!”
“This I have to see.” He took a deep breath, locked his numb fingers on the rocks, and pushed up with his knees.
The middling dragons were in full battle. One of the Riskers was tossed from his saddle. The other Risker fired arrows into the attacking dragon’s face.
Grey Cloak caught a glimpse of Streak latched onto the back end of the attacking dragon. “It’s Streak! He took control of the beast!” He patted Dyphestive on the shoulder.
The brothers looked at each other, eyes filled with surprise.
Grey Cloak poked his brother’s broad chest. “You’re solid again!”
A barbarian jumped from the rocks above them.
Dyphestive caught the man in midair and slammed him headfirst to the ground. “I am solid again, solid as iron!”
“How’s the ankle?”
“I can walk on it. It feels better for some reason.” He picked up the battle axe he’d been carrying earlier. “It’s not the Iron Sword, but it will do.”
A second barbarian charged, steel in hand, through the twisting path in the rocks.
Dyphestive swung his axe into the man’s face. “Come on.” He stepped over the dead man, holding Grey Cloak up by the waist with one arm and carrying the battle axe in the other. “We’re getting out of this death trap.”
Black Wolf barred their path. Sword in one hand and battle axe in the other, the black-haired warrior bristled. “The only escape for you is the grave.”
33
With his claws sunk into the top of the tail, Streak assumed full control of the middling dragon’s body as if it were his own. Now all I need to do is defeat the other dragon. Let’s try this.
He snuck in a tail whip that smacked the Risker out of the saddle. The man fell over the arena wall and crashed to the ground. The dragons engaged, their claws raking the scales off one another’s chests. Their wings beat furiously.
He’s a nasty fighter. Or is it a she? Either way, I’m smarter.
Streak’s command of the dragon was flawless. The giant lizards grappled. He used the claws on the tip of the dragon’s wing to poke the other dragon in the eye. It bellowed a pain-filled, shrieking roar. Fire shot out of its mouth in the wrong direction.
Let’s get a taste of that long neck.
His middling dragon chomped down on the other one. They balled up, their serpentine bodies entwined, busted through arena’s top wall, and thrashed across the rocky ground.
Sink those teeth in! Deeper!
His dragon’s bite pierced through scale into flesh. Streak could taste dragon blood on his tongue.
Finish him!
The other dragon’s muscles gave way. It gave a desperate death call and thrashed fiercely.
I have you now! Crunch!
The dragon’s neck snapped. He shook the few remaining moments of life out of it.
That’s not the end of it.
His dragon wheeled around and faced off against the two Riskers thrown from their saddles. They were a formidable pair in full black armor and open-faced steel helms with steel wings decorating the sides. They bared their swords and came forward, crouching low.
Streak sent a stream of fire into the closest one. The man scrambled away. He chased him down, pinned the man in the rocks, and covered him in flames. He caught the other Risker charging his backside. He flipped his tail like a whip and hit the man in the chest.
The warrior fell flat on his back. He hopped back to his feet in time to be smashed by the dragon’s tail again.
Taste my flames!
In a moment, the Risker was consumed by a stream of dragon fire. He took off running, trying to tear his armor off. He rolled in the snow while frantically trying to pat the flames out. He still burned.
He’s done for. Let’s find my friends. He set his eyes on the barbarians swarming through the stands and pouring over the arena wall. But let’s turn these guys into kindling first.
“We don’t have to fight, Black Wolf. Look around. Your plan is failing.” Dyphestive faced off with him. “Your cause is lost.”
Black Wolf spit on the ground. “It’s Hercullon who is lost, young fool!” He charged, head low, as quick as a panther.
Steel rang against steel. Clang!
Dyphestive parried his opponent’s axe. Black Wolf thrust his sword at Dyphestive’s gut. He twisted out of reach and pushed Black Wolf away.
“You fight a coward’s fight!” Black Wolf moved like a wild beast and attacked with fury. His blades cut through the air in the blink of an eye.
Dyphestive parried both weapons at the same time. He twisted his axe head, pinning Black Wolf’s blades, and ripped the axe from the barbarian’s hand.
“Clever!” Black Wolf dropped down and launched his foot into Dyphestive’s gut.
He doubled over. “Oof.”
Black Wolf lifted his sword overhead. “It’s over!” He brought it down with two hands. “Vengeance for my son!”
Dyphestive covered his neck with his forearm. The sword bit straight to the bone.
Black Wolf stepped back. “Impossible.” Blood dripped from the edge of his blade. “What sort of wizardry is this? Your arm should be crawling on the snow. What manner of man are you?”
“I am Iron Bones!” Dyphestive hurled his axe at Black Wolf.
Black Wolf ducked it. “You’re a witch. We burn your kind at the stake.” He raised his arms and howled like a wolf. “Brethren, finish them once and for all!”
Dyphestive backed up and shielded Grey Cloak. “They don’t quit, do they?”
“It reminds me of someone I know.” Grey Cloak called to the sky, “Streak, get us out of here!”
The middling dragon landed on the ground nearby.
Grey Cloak shoved Dyphestive in the back. “Go! Go!”
They climbed into the dragon’s saddle.
The dragon’s wings beat thunderously. It pushed off the ground into the sky and rose higher.
“How’s your arm?” Grey Cloak asked.
“Still attached,” Dyphestive remarked.
Without warning, the barbarians took aim. Bowstrings snapped. A volley of arrows sailed toward the dragon. Feathered shafts tore through the dragon’s wings and buried themselves between its scales. Another volley came, one after the other. The dragon bucked and roared in midflight.
“It’s days like this I miss trips to Thannis,” Grey Cloak commented. “Streak, can you get us out of here or not?”
They only made it a hundred feet into the air. The dragon’s wings beat furiously. It started to descend.
Dyphestive caught a full look at the township. Many of the buildings were in flames. Smoke filled the sky, and frightened people ran in all directions. The grand dragons glided over rooftops, spitting flames and setting the town on fire.
Dyphestive clenched his fist. “We have to stop this.”
Grey Cloak watched with him. “I don’t think we can.” He looked down. “But we have our own problems. We’re falling.”
Another volley of arrows sailed into the sky and connected with the dragon.
Thuk! Thuk! Thuk!
The dragon spiraled down toward the arena, where hordes of barbarians waited.
Streak’s white eyes turned back to their normal bright yellow. “This dragon’s finished. Prepare yourselves for a crash landing.” He peeled away from the dragon’s back and took flight. “See you at the bottom, unless the wolves get to you first.”
34
“Osid-ayan-umra-shokrah-ha!” Grey Cloak said.
The Figurine of Heroes in his hand started to smoke.
“Hang on to me, brother!” he said as their dragon rushed to meet the ground.
“I’ll be fine,” Dyphestive said.
The Cloak of Legends fluffed out, lifting Grey Cloak from the dragon’s back. He drifted slowly toward the ground.
Streak flew beside him and hovered in the air. He coughed. “What’s with all the smoke?”
“I used the figurine.” Grey Cloak watched the barbarians gather beneath him.
Dyphestive and the dragon plummeted toward the arena and crashed hard into the rocks. The barbarians kept their eyes on Grey Cloak, pointing at him with their weapons and shouting.
The figurine’s smoke thickened, smothering his vision.
Cough, cough. “Man, that stuff is nasty,” Streak said. “I can’t see a thing.”
“Streak, fly down there and give us some cover.”
“You got it.”
Grey Cloak floated until his toes touched the ground. He was surrounded by inky smoke and coughing. “Dyphestive, are you alive?”
“Never better. I can’t say the same for the dragon, but he helped break my fall.”
Grey Cloak shushed him. The barbarians were close, grumbling and murmuring. He set the figurine on the ground and stumbled.
“Did you trip over me?” Dyphestive asked.
“I must have.”
“Boss!” Streak hollered from above. “Where are you?”
“Where do you think I am?” Grey Cloak heard the flutter of dragon wings.
Streak landed on top of him. “I smoked them out—well, back. But they’re waiting for the smoke to clear.”
“How many?”
“A score or two, maybe three. We can handle them.”
A new form took shape in the inky mist.
“I hope whoever it is, is on our side,” Streak stated as the smoke began to clear.
“Me too,” Grey Cloak said. “It’s been a bad enough day already.”
A man appeared in the fading smoke. He had a large head, short brown hair, narrow shoulders, dark, penetrating eyes, and a bookish demeanor. He wore a set of forest-green robes with arcane symbols sewn into the fabric and the hems trimmed in golden layers. His sleeves flopped when he fanned the smoke from his face with his free hand. Tucked underneath his other arm was a leather tome. He eyed the brothers and spoke with an impatient tone. “I take it you’re in need of some assistance?”
“Yes,” Grey Cloak replied.
“Well, spit it out, or do I have to do all the thinking for you?” the man replied. “If you want help, you have to know what sort of help you need.”
“We’re surrounded by barbarians,” he blurted.
The wind blew more smoke away, and the angry faces of the Wolves from the Rocks began to appear. One of them hurled a spear through the cloud. It whizzed by the newcomer’s face, missing him by a nose.
“Ah.” The man in robes waved his arm over his head in a half circle. A dome of energy formed around them. “Barbarians, you say. They’re going to hate me. Let me ask, how would you like me to dispose of them? Perhaps a tempest that whisks them away.”
Barbarian Backlash: Dragon Wars - Book 14 of 20: An Epic Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Adventure Series Page 11
