Barbarian Backlash: Dragon Wars - Book 14 of 20: An Epic Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Adventure Series

by Craig Halloran

  Grey Cloak and Dyphestive stood up, watching the barbarians attack the dome of energy with vigor. Their eyes were set on the man inside the glowing shell as they screamed, “Slay the wizard!”

  “Are you a wizard?” Grey Cloak asked.

  “Obviously. But we prefer the term mage or magi where I come from.” He leafed through the pages of his leather-bound book. “My name is Fogle Boon, and who might you be?”

  “Uh, Grey Cloak. This is my brother, Dyphestive, and my dragon, Streak.”

  Fogle Boon traced his long finger over the page. “Nice to meet you. But I don’t have time to chat. My wife is very demanding, and when she finds out I’ve been summoned to another world and abandoned my parental duties, well, she’ll be very upset. Have you ever met an upset brigand queen?”

  “No,” they said.

  “You don’t want too. Ah.” He looked at the blood brothers and smiled. “This spell will really screw with their heads. In my experience, most barbarians are all skull and little gray matter.” He pushed his hand outward. “Stand back.”

  Grey Cloak and company backed away.

  Fogle Boon’s lips moved like a hummingbird’s wings while his finger quickly ran down the page. The air inside the dome prickled. The hairs on their arms stood on end.

  With a razor-thin smile, Fogle Boon closed the spell book and held it affectionately to his chest. “Observe your foul and malodorous attackers.”

  In the wink of an eye, every other barbarian took the shape and form of Fogle Boon the wizard. With savage fury, the unchanged barbarians attacked their own. Sword blades sliced. Axes chopped. Barbarians disguised as wizards rose up and went down. Daggers did permanent damage. Howling men collapsed in tangled piles of limbs. The Wolves from the Rock massacred one another.

  Fogle Boon managed a faint giggle. “Why do the work yourself, when they will do it all for you? It’s ugly work, but it keeps the blood off my clothing. When I return home, I won’t receive a scolding.” He faced the much younger men. “I believe we’re finished here. Can you return me home now? I don’t want to keep my beautiful bride waiting.”

  Barbarians died. Others fled. The Wolves from the Rocks headed for the hills whence they came.

  “Er, I’d imagine you’ll return soon. The summoning doesn’t normally last very long,” Grey Cloak offered.

  Fogle Boon returned a bored look. He searched the sky. “What is the name of this place?”

  “Ice Vale,” replied Dyphestive.

  “No, it’s Gapoli. At least the world is. And what world are you from?”

  Fogle sighed and started to speak, but his voice was drowned out by the roar of grand dragons. Commander Shaw, Dirklen, Magnolia, and their dragons landed on the top wall of the arena. Their glares fixed on the heroes.

  35

  “Friends of yours?” Fogle Boon asked. He squinted. “The two blonds appear familiar.”

  Even though they were far away, they all had keen eyesight, and through the energy dome that slightly obscured their vision, Grey Cloak and Magnolia met eyes.

  He turned away. “Don’t look at them.”

  “Why? Will they turn us to stone?” Fogle opened his spell book. “I have an uneasy feeling about that trio, and those dragons are humongous. They’ll gobble you whole.”

  Commander Shaw, Dirklen, and Magnolia rode their dragons down the empty stands. The dragons crushed the bodies of the fallen beneath their paws.

  “Fogle, I don’t mean to sound impolite, but whatever you are going to do, do it soon.” Grey Cloak was out of tricks, and they had nowhere left to run.

  Words buzzed out of Fogle’s mouth like a swarm of bees. A loud thunderclap boomed overhead. Everyone glanced to the sky. Small black clouds took form over the arena.

  Fogle opened and closed his spellbook. Each time, it shrank a size smaller until it fit in the palm of his hand. He put it away inside the sleeve of his robe. “I have to hide it from Jarla. She becomes antsy when I dabble with it.” His image started to fade into smoke. “Lads, it’s been nice getting out of the tower and tasting some action. It’s been a while.” He pointed at the sky. “I leave you with this parting gift.”

  The black clouds pulsed with lightning. Bolts of fire rained down from the sky. Thick cords of bright energy blasted into the three Riskers and their dragons. They spasmed and bucked like mules. Dragon bones radiated inside the skin of the dragons’ wings. They roared in pain. Fire from the sky kept coming down. All three dragons and their riders took to the sky and flew away. The black clouds gave chase.

  Grey Cloak, Dyphestive, and Streak stood in the stillness of the arena. The energy dome dissipated. Aside from the dead, the barbarians were gone. Black char marks marred the stands. Blood stained the stones. An awful, catastrophic battle had taken place, and somehow they had won.

  Clapping echoed from the southern arena tunnel. Tula appeared. The older elven woman wore a full-length woolen gray coat. She eased down the stairs to the bottom row and looked down on the trio. “Well done.” Tula smiled. She sat on the edge of the wall. “I watched the entire event unfold. I can’t believe you prevailed, for now.”

  Grey Cloak picked up the figurine and ambled toward her. He barely had the strength to move. “Thanks for the help.”

  She shrugged. “I did what you asked. I saw Hercullon to safety.”

  “And how is he?”

  “Safe and breathing. For now.”

  “Why do you keep saying for now?”

  Streak jumped up, flew, and landed beside her.

  Tula petted his head. “You won the battle, but the war has come.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come up and see.”

  Grey Cloak and Dyphestive made their way into the stands and moved to the top row.

  The Ice Vale township burned. The citizens scrambled to put out the flames using carts and sleighs filled with snow.

  “They’ll get it under control,” Grey Cloak said.

  “You are shortsighted. The fire isn’t the problem. Look in the distance,” Tula suggested.

  “I see them,” Dyphestive said. “A lot of them.”

  Commander Shaw and his children might have departed, but only temporarily. Beyond the township, more Riskers circled in the snowy sky. Dozens of them. They weren’t alone. A wave of soldiers marched toward Ice Vale, cavalry and foot soldiers walking alongside horse-drawn sleighs. It was an invasion.

  “I thought we beat them,” Grey Cloak said dejectedly. “How will we stop that?”

  Tula looked him in the eye. “You can’t. You can only save the ones you can. You did that. I’m proud of you.” She turned toward Dyphestive. “I’m proud of you both.”

  “And me?”

  “You too, Streak,” she said.

  Grey Cloak gave her a funny look. “You’re being strange.” Her kind words struck him as odd, and it made him uncomfortable.

  “What are we going to do, Grey?” Dyphestive asked. “There are too many. We can’t fight them all.”

  “Ice Vale is under siege. They would be wise to surrender. It’s the only way they can survive. Like me, the three of you need to flee. You can do nothing now. It’s over,” Tula said. “And the longer you stand planted here, the more likely you’ll be captured. Commander Shaw and his children will be looking for you. You might have surprised them once, but you won’t surprise them again.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that.” Grey Cloak picked up Streak and placed him inside his hood. “Come on, brother, we need to go.” He nodded at Tula. “Thanks for the warning. Best to you, Tula.” He made his way down the stairs, Dyphestive trailing him.

  Tula called after him, “You’re going to leave me here, standing in the cold?”

  “You can take care of yourself.” He moved into the tunnel.

  The Iron Sword was propped against the wall. They stopped.

  Tula leaned over the tunnel wall. “Did you find my gift?”

  Dyphestive picked the sword up and smiled. “Yes!” He
looked up at her. “How?”

  She shrugged. “I have my ways. So, can I tag along, or are you going to abandon me again?”

  “Brother, she should come with us,” Dyphestive suggested.

  “I concur,” Streak said.

  Grey Cloak sighed. “Fine.”

  Tula jumped the wall and landed in the tunnel entrance. “Fantastic,” she said. “Follow me.”

  36

  The township streets were in chaos. People battled fires. Others boarded themselves up in their homes. A great deal of them fled to the cottages and caves in the surrounding countryside. Tula led them straight into the heart of the city.

  “Do you mind explaining why we’re going into the heart of danger and not away from it?” Grey Cloak asked.

  Dragons passed overhead, releasing earsplitting dragon calls.

  Skreeeeeeeeeeeee!

  Skreeeeeeeeeeeee!

  Skreeeeeeeeeeeee!

  “That’s why,” Tula responded as she briskly navigated the streets. “You don’t go into the open fields where they can spot you. The smoke and fire conceals us. It’s safer.”

  It made sense, even though Grey Cloak didn’t want to admit it. Reluctantly, he followed her, but after turning from one street to another alley, he grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. “Enough! Tell us where you’re taking us now!”

  “I’m looking for a place to hide.”

  “Burning buildings aren’t good places to hide. You’ll have to do better than that,” he said.

  “A very good place to hide,” Tula added.

  He didn’t take his eyes off her. “By leading us in circles. We’ve been down this road twice now.” He grabbed her by the coat and pushed her against the wall. “Explain!”

  “Easy, Grey. She’s only trying to help,” Dyphestive said.

  “Are you certain about that?”

  “She gave me my sword, didn’t she? Why would she do that?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s so you can stand out like a sore thumb. As if you didn’t stand out enough already.” Grey Cloak took a breath and loosened his grip. “Pah! I’m not fooling with her anymore. Either come with me or don’t.”

  Dyphestive met Tula’s eyes. “Sorry. I’m going with him, but thank you for my sword.” He hurried down the road to catch up with his brother. “Bye.”

  Tula leaned against the wall. “If you don’t stay with me, you’ll get caught. You can trust me. I swear it.”

  Grey Cloak waved his arm. “Not listening.”

  A strong gust of wind blasted down the street, creating icy dust devils. Snow drifts buried their feet, then the harsh wind died down. A quiet moment followed. Grey Cloak flapped the snow from his cloak.

  Middling dragons buzzed overhead and blew fire into the buildings. Two of them landed on the opposite ends of the road and set innocent people on fire.

  Skreeeeeeeeeee!

  Skreeeeeeeeeee!

  “We’re cut off!” Grey Cloak moved back toward the middle of the street, where he’d left Tula. She dashed into a narrow alley. He pushed Dyphestive from behind. “Go! Go!”

  Dyphestive hobbled when he ran. His broad shoulders scraped against the alley walls as he plowed through the wooden crates and knocked over barrels.

  They emerged on the next road and ducked underneath the porches.

  Dragons flew in low patterns with their bellies and tails scraping rooftops.

  Skreeeeeeeeeee!

  Skreeeeeeeeeee!

  Grey Cloak gave Tula an irritated look. “Where to now?”

  She pointed across the street at the opposite alley. “There!”

  Grey Cloak spotted a bright-red door. A wooden sign hanging on chains rattled in the wind. There was no mistaking the storefront. It was Batram’s Bartery and Arcania. “We can’t get in there!” he shouted above the dragon roars and howling winds.

  Two more grand dragons came around the opposing blocks and entered the street. Their bright eyes gleamed like gemstones. Their long necks swung around, revealing their unmistakable riders.

  Grey Cloak pushed them back into the alley. “That’s Dirklen and Magnolia. Of all Riskers!”

  “We need to make a run for it,” Tula urged them. “You have to trust me.” She caught their doubtful looks. “I’m not waiting. I’m going.” She ran.

  Grey Cloak peeked around the corner. The twins, Dirklen and Magnolia, watched Tula run across the broad street. Their dragons stalked forward. He knew they could close the gap in an instant.

  “Can you run at all?”

  Dyphestive offered a hopeful smile. “No, but I can hop like a one-legged frog.”

  “You really need to work on the timing of your humor.” He scooped Dyphestive up in his arms. “Better yet, don’t try any humor at all. Thunderbolts, you’re heavy.”

  “What are you doing?”

  He crept toward the end of the alley and slipped off his boots using only his feet. “I’m going to make a run for it.” Tula already stood at that red door on the other side. It opened, and she went inside. “Hang tight!” His first step slipped on the snow. He gained his footing and took off like a jackrabbit.

  “There!” Dirklen hollered.

  The red door had opened fully and began to close again. Grey Cloak’s legs pumped harder. He stretched his stride. He glanced toward Magnolia and caught her eye. He winked and blew her a kiss at the same time.

  I can’t help myself.

  The dragons galloped at full speed toward his position. Flames shot from their mouths.

  He gained speed. The red door was open no more than a crack.

  “Hang on!”

  “You can’t make that jump,” Dyphestive said.

  The wind whistled in his ears. “We’re about to find out.” At the foot of the porch, he jumped with his brother in his arms. He cleared five steps, hit the porch running, and busted through the crack in the door. They tumbled to the floor, and the red door closed behind them, muting the deafening dragon roars.

  “Welcome!” the throaty boar’s-head rug said. “Don’t forget to wipe your feet!”

  Grey Cloak crawled off of Dyphestive and wiped the snow from his naked feet. “Gladly.”

  “Ah, that feels good.” The rug’s corkscrew tail wiggled. “Very good.”

  Dyphestive lay on the carpet and scratched the boar behind the ears.

  “No one’s ever done that before,” said the boar’s head. “Thank you.”

  Grey Cloak helped his brother to his feet. “Don’t get carried away.” He took a breath and stared at the front door. Dragons and enemies that wanted to tear him apart were on the other side, but for some reason, he felt safe inside the ancient walls of the arcania. “Never thought I’d be so glad to be here.”

  Tula stood in front of the glass display cases, examining the contents inside.

  The vaulted ceilings were rich in cobwebs, the spiders busy at work crawling along the array of shelving behind the counters. Half-melted candles in their candelabras created puddles of wax on the counters and floors. They saw no sign of Batram.

  “It seems you’ve been here before,” Grey Cloak said to Tula.

  She shrugged. “Perhaps a time or two.”

  “Interesting.” He moved to the counter that stood taller than eye level. Streak crawled out of his hood onto the counter.

  “Mmm, spiders.” Streak’s tongue flicked out of his mouth and snatched a spider that crawled across the countertop.

  Batram appeared out of nowhere and stood upon the counter. He was in halfling form, hair white and fuzzy, wearing his red-and-white striped coat. He held a rolled scroll in his hand and started hitting Streak on the head with it. “Spit out my little friend, you ferocious beast!”

  Streak gulped. “Ferocious? That’s a new one.”

  Batram tipped his head back and sighed. He faced Grey Cloak, bent over, and hit him on the head with the scroll. “You owe me a spider! Young people and pets. They never know how to train them.” He turned to Tula, smiled all over, a
nd said pleasantly, “Ah, Zanna Paydark, a pleasant surprise. What brings you here?”

  37

  Grey Cloak caught Zanna Paydark giving Batram a cutoff signal with her hand. She dropped her hand quickly when she caught him looking and turned her attention back to the display case.

  “You’re Zanna Paydark?” Dyphestive asked. He limped over to stand beside his brother and rubbed the wrist that Black Wolf had tried to chop off. It had begun to heal. “That can’t be. Zanna Paydark died, seasons ago.”

  “I didn’t realize the three of you haven’t met.” Bartram rubbed his bushy sideburns. “I assumed you were together when you entered, naturally.”

  “As I understand it, this is Tula.” Grey Cloak glared at her. “So, which is it, Tula or Zanna Paydark? My mother. Who’s”—he raised his voice and lifted a finger—“supposed to be dead.”

  Batram plopped down on the counter. His short legs dangled over the edge. “Oh, this is getting interesting.” A white-and-red-striped container appeared in his hands. It contained fluffy white pieces of food that crunched as he ate them.

  “Popcorn.” Streak joined Batram. “Can I have some? It’s been a while.”

  Batram offered the runt dragon the container. “Yes, help yourself.” He suddenly jerked it away. “On second thought, no. You ate my spider.”

  “Aaaah,” Streak said with disappointment.

  “Tula, who are you?” Grey Cloak demanded. “My mother, er, Zanna Paydark is dead. You’re an imposter.”

  Zanna tucked her hair behind her ear and sighed. “Why would anyone impersonate Zanna Paydark?”

  “You’re dodging the question.” His voice became bitter. “Who are you?”

  She faced him and stared into his eyes. “Who do you think I am?”

  There was no mistaking the strong resemblance. Though her hair was messy, her angular elven features were the same. The gray in her eyes was a perfect match to his.

  Dyphestive leaned over Grey Cloak’s shoulder. “You have to admit she looks a lot like you.”