“We need to go before this gets out of hand,” Grey Cloak said.
Zanna agreed. She hailed the waitress with a nod. “Is there another way out of here?”
“Yes, there’s a back door, but the owner doesn’t like to see patrons back in his kitchen,” the spry little waitress said. “Why don’t you stay and have a free drink? The loud one is buying, and we don’t get this sort of excitement very often. The owner is even sending word out for a band.”
“Here.” Zanna paid the young lady. “We don’t want anything, as we have someplace to be.”
The waitress took the coins and dropped them in the pocket of her apron. “Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, I have a lot of work ahead of me.”
“Maybe we should split up. If we leave at the same time, it’s certain to draw attention,” Zanna suggested. “I’ll go out the back. After that, the two of you slip out one at a time. Be subtle and take whatever exit is available.”
“Brilliant,” Grey Cloak muttered. “Go with haste. We’ll watch your back.”
Zanna eased out of her chair and pulled her shawl tight over her shoulders as she spotted a gap between the bar and the back wall that led into the galley. Head down, she shuffled toward the exit.
With his back to the bar, Sash rolled toward her. He stuck his sword in the wall, barring the gap and blocking her path in a single fluid move. “I’ve had my eye on you since the moment I walked in.” He wiggled his head as he said it. “What’s your name, gorgeous?”
Zanna looked Sash in the face. “My name is Tula. And you have a good eye and a sword skill to match.”
“Tula. I like it. Why don’t you join me for a drink? You see, I’ve been on a dangerous adventure.” He glanced over his shoulder at the others in his group. “And I could use some new company.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere,” Zanna said politely. She tapped the blade of his sword with her fingernail as she studied his smile full of tobacco-stained teeth. It wasn’t the first time she’d dealt with his type. “Why don’t you give me a moment to relieve myself, and I’ll be back.” She placed her hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Brawn. I like it.” She looked at Bull. “But that one is brawnier.”
“Him?” Sash chuckled and toyed with her hair. “He couldn’t handle a clever woman like you. You aren’t from Portham, are you?”
“Passing through with family. Heading north, back home to Kenna.”
“Kenna? A country elf. I like that even better.” He looked her up and down. “Hmmm… you’re packing some interesting merchandise. Why do I get the feeling that you aren’t some innocent country elf, eh?”
“Obviously, I’m more than meets the eye. If you’ll excuse me, I really have to go. Lady business.”
Sash touched his chest and bowed. He pulled his sword free. “I’ll let you go, but don’t disappoint me. I wouldn’t like that.”
Zanna returned a winsome smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll return shortly.” She kissed the grizzly hairs on his cheek. “Tah-tah.”
Sash leaned over the bar, ogling her as she went into the kitchen. He howled like a dog. “Woo!” He slapped the bar and snatched up a jug. “I think I’m in love!”
“What was that?” Grey Cloak’s neck turned red.
Dyphestive replied, “What was what? I can’t look, remember?”
“She kissed the cretin.”
“On the lips?”
“No, on the cheek, but still, he’s a filthy hound.” The sight of his mother flirting with Sash stirred feelings he couldn’t comprehend. “That was disgusting. Streak, I’m going to walk you to the bar. You go after her and be discreet. We don’t need the cooks screaming their heads off because they think there’s a giant rat in the kitchen.”
“Rat? I’m not a rat,” Streak said. “I resent that.”
“After that, I’ll slip out.” He tapped the rod on the plank floor. “Pretending to be an old man. They’re getting drunk. I should fool them. Be patient, brother. Once they’re soused, try to creep out, front or back. I’ll be watching.”
Dyphestive straightened his straw hat. “Will do.”
Grey Cloak dropped Streak off through the gap in the bar, and the dragon scurried underneath the swinging kitchen doors and into the back. Using the Rod of Weapons like a cane, head down and trembling noticeably, he ambled toward the front exit.
Bull stepped into his path. “Say, old one, where are you going? We’re celebrating.” He shoved a mug of ale at Grey Cloak. “Drink.”
“As you wish, young warrior. I will drink, but I hope my leprosy won’t bother you. It’s not contagious.”
“Huh!” Bull’s eyes grew, and he jerked back his drink. He sulked away, saying, “Get out of here, rotten flesh.”
Grey Cloak sniggered as he exited through the door. “That was all too easy.” He moved to a spot on the porch where he could look through the window.
Dyphestive sat alone at his table. The Scourge weren’t paying him any mind. He stood, used the wrapped-up Iron Sword like a walking staff, and headed for the front door. He was about as discreet as a pink gorilla, and members of the Scourge cut him off.
“No, you donkey skull,” Grey Cloak cursed. “What in the Flaming Fence are you doing?”
45
“Where do you think you’re going, farmer?” Sash asked Dyphestive. “Can’t you see we’re having a celebration here?” He stuffed a jug of wine in Dyphestive’s chest. “Drink!”
Hemmed in by Sash, Bull, and Hawk, Dyphestive kept his voice down and head low. “I don’t want any trouble. I was only going to check on my horse.” He showed his hand. “I’m taking her a biscuit.”
“Hahaha, a biscuit you say.” Sash slapped it out of his hand. “Listen to me. You aren’t going anywhere until your pretty friend, Tula, comes back. She owes me a dance.”
Dyphestive leaned on his sword like a crutch. “If you say so. But I need to feed my horse.” He tried to push by Bull and Hawk, who crowded him. “She gets hungry.”
“Look at this sack of meat,” Hawk said in cocky voice. “He’s as big as Bull.” He poked Dyphestive in the chest. “What do they feed you, farm boy? A barrel of oats every day?”
“Seems to me he likes biscuits,” Sash said. “Where is your friend, farmer? The pretty one not covered in fleas. You better hope she didn’t step out on me. If she did”—he shoved Dyphestive—“you’ll be staying in her place. I might even have you dance with Bull. Ha ha.”
In a soft voice, Dyphestive said, “Let me go, please. I don’t want trouble. I’ll come back once I feed my horse.”
Hawk erupted in obnoxious laughter. The lean predator of a man said, “This guy is very passionate about his beast.” He put his arm over Dyphestive’s shoulder. “Perhaps we should let him bring his horse in for a drink. Bwah-ha-ha-ha-hah!”
The Scourge cackled like hyenas.
“Would you like that, big farmer? Huh?” Sash forcefully asked. He stooped over and tried to look at Dyphestive’s face. “The big one’s shy. He must be real ugly.”
“Aye, ugly like Bull. Maybe they’re brothers!” Hawk flipped Dyphestive’s hat off. “Let’s get a closer look at you.”
Dyphestive caught his hat before it hit the floor. He tried to cover his face, tucking his chin.
Sash stopped his hand. “Wait a moment.” He got closer. “I know you.” A dagger appeared in his hand, and he held it before Dyphestive. “Ease back and lower that hat.”
On command, he lowered the straw hat and smiled brightly. “Remember me, fellas?”
Bull gave a confused grunt.
“You!” Sash said.
Dyphestive burst into action. He swatted Sash’s hand aside in one smooth motion, stuck his hat in Bull’s face, and slugged him in the jaw. Bull fell like a tree. Before the Iron Sword hit the floor, Dyphestive snatched it, swung it around his body, and knocked Sash and Hawk onto the floor.
Steel scraped out of a sheath, and footsteps charged his way from behind. The sweet song of metal splitting air crawle
d in his ears. He blocked the attack on his back with the Iron Sword, pivoted around on his knee, and faced Katrina.
“You’re a dead man.” Rugged and attractive, the green-haired beauty snaked out another sword and chopped down.
Dyphestive caught the blade in the palm of his hand. Steel sank through flesh and hit bone-like metal. He bent her blade like a spoon and jerked it free of her hand.
“Impossible.” She stumbled back into tables and chairs. “No one can do that.”
Honzur’s hands crackled, and his eyes lit up like fire. Cords of lightning snaked up his arms covered in tattoos that shone like silver. He fired a blast of energy that struck Dyphestive full in the chest and knocked him through the glass window. Dyphestive bounced off the porch and rolled into a trough of water.
Grey Cloak pulled him out of the water by the hair on his head. “How do you feel?”
Dyphestive smiled. “We can take them.”
The Scourge poured out of the tavern and into the street—all of them except for Bull, who’d been knocked out cold.
“Well, well, well,” Sash said, his sword in hand. The sashes he wore came alive like snakes. “Who do we have here?”
“Your worst nightmare,” Grey Cloak commented.
“No, it looks like a couple of Talon’s pigeons. Come to steal our dragon charms, eh? A bold move. A fatal move.” He looked about. “I hope you knew better than to come alone, because we’re going to slaughter you.”
Dyphestive stepped out of the trough dripping wet. “It’s going to be the other way around.” He saw Katrina’s fearful eyes. “Ask her. She knows.”
Sash gave her a concerned look. “What’s he talking about?”
“He bent my sword with his bare hand, and his wound healed. My blow should have severed his hand.” She cringed. “He didn’t even flinch.”
“Where’s your backbone, Katrina? We’ve faced creatures far more dangerous than them.” Sash stepped forward, sword in hand, with his ribbons poised like snakes to strike. Bull wandered through the tavern door, rubbing his jaw, club in hand. “Time to teach Talon a lesson. Permanently. Scourge, attack!”
46
Katrina and Squirrel moved in on Grey Cloak. Katrina wielded her longsword and dagger, while Squirrel came at him with a small bullwhip and dagger. She cracked the leather. Pop!
“Really?” Grey Cloak asked. “They send the two of you after me? Is it because I’m not as threatening? I’m insulted.”
“You still talk too much.” Katrina rushed him and sliced at his neck.
Grey Cloak ducked, and the blade whistled overhead. Swish!
He blocked Katrina’s stab from a dagger, spun into her, and kissed her cheek. “I love your hair. You look fantastic in green braids.” He swept her legs out from under her, and she landed flat on her back.
Squirrel’s whip cracked at his feet. He danced away. The tip of the whip burst with amber fire with every snap.
“A fine weapon,” Grey Cloak teased. “If only you could hit me with it, that would be something.”
Squirrel flicked her dagger at him. “Hah!”
The dagger came at him like a buzzing bee.
Grey Cloak plucked the blade out of the air inches from his face. It buzzed in his grasp, stinging his hand. “Ow!” He dropped it.
Crack!
The bullwhip coiled around his neck and sent a painful shock through his extremities, forcing him to his knees. “Aaaargh!”
“We’ve got him now, Katrina! Finish him!” Squirrel said.
Katrina rose with the sword in her white-knuckled grip. With her jaw clenched, she marched straight toward him and lifted her razor-sharp blade over her head. “Goodbye, Grey Cloak.”
Dyphestive faced the three opposing warriors with no fear. He’d faced worse in his short days and stood fully prepared to handle them. He drew forth the Iron Sword—still wrapped in burlap—stuck his chin out, and grinned. “You might want to walk away before you get hurt.”
Sash started to dash in for an attack then stopped. “Honzur, now!”
Out of the corner of his eye, Dyphestive caught Honzur standing out of harm’s way on the porch, mumbling quickly and twitching his fingers. The dust beneath Dyphestive’s feet exploded and coated him in grit from head to toe. Blinded, he coughed and tried to wipe his eyes. The crust on his body hardened, and his limbs became sluggish and slow.
“Take it to him, Bull!” Sash ordered.
Dyphestive saw the musclebound warrior come right at him. He tried to lift his sword to block the club. He was slow, far too slow. The metal end of Bull’s club connected with his skull and knocked him flat on the ground.
“Get him, Bull!” Sash ordered. “Break every bone in his body!”
Bull’s club went up and came down. He mercilessly hammered Dyphestive. Sash and Hawk joined in, stomping and kicking him with cruel and reckless fury.
Grey Cloak jabbed Katrina in the gut with the Rod of Weapons. The energized jolt he sent into her scale mail shook her all over. She dropped her sword and fell to her hands and knees, spasming.
A charge of fire burned his neck as the whip started to constrict around his throat. His eyebrows knitted together, and he gave Squirrel a nasty look. “You’re going to regret this, you dirty little ferret.”
The messy-haired woman grinned. “It looks like you’re the only one who’s going to regret anything.”
With increasing pain spreading through his body, and his air supply cut off, he grabbed the burning bullwhip and jerked it out of Squirrel’s fingertips.
She shrieked. “Impossible!”
Grey Cloak uncoiled the whip from his neck. “Nothing’s impossible when you’re a legend like me.”
Squirrel turned to make a run for it.
With a flick of the whip, Grey Cloak caught her around the neck and jerked her off her feet. He reeled her in like a flipping fish and glowered down at her. “How does this feel?” He sent the fires of the Flaming Fence straight into her.
Her body jumped a foot off the ground. She kicked, screamed, wobbled, and passed out.
Katrina crawled toward her sword.
He stepped on it. In a charming voice, he said, “You sided with the wrong mercenaries. A decision you’ll soon regret.”
She looked up and offered a disheveled smile. “I already do.”
“Good.” Grey Cloak drove the Rod of Weapons into her back and shocked her until her body went still. “Life is full of regrets.”
Dyphestive took the beating. His pride didn’t. The twisted sneers and mocking laughter of his wicked enemies went through him like a hot knife through butter. He’d had enough of evil. Something snapped. He growled.
“Stay down, farm boy! We aren’t finished with you yet!” Sash hollered.
Battling against the enchanted sluggishness, Dyphestive crawled to his hands and knees. Hawk and Sash stood on either side of him, kicking him in the gut. Bull clubbed his back. He continued to rise.
“Stay down, you fool!” Sash said.
He puffed for his breath.
Gasp. “You shouldn’t be moving. Honzur, what did you do to him? What did you do? Raise the dead? He should be dead.”
The Scourge wizard made no reply.
“Fine, I’ll finish him myself.”
Sash’s ribbons jumped off his body and started to bind Dyphestive’s arm and legs together.
He stuck his sword into Dyphestive’s shoulder. “How’s that feel?”
“Goooooood!” Dyphestive said dangerously.
Hawk’s face paled. He stepped back. “Sash, he ain’t dying.”
“Oh, he’ll die whether his body believes it or not.” Sash cocked his sword back and aimed for the heart. “Good night, farm boy!” He thrust.
Dyphestive’s limbs suddenly loosened. He ripped through the ribbons and turned his chest away. The blade sliced across his chest.
Sash overstepped.
Dyphestive punched his exposed jaw into tomorrow. Whop!
He turned on B
ull. Bull brought his club down on Dyphestive’s skull. The thick length of wood snapped. Like a dumb ape, Bull stared at the broken end and gave a confused grunt. When he looked back up, he didn’t see Dyphestive’s fist coming.
Pow!
Hawk dropped his sword and ran away in a cloud of dust.
Grey Cloak strolled over to Dyphestive. He dusted off his hands. “Well, that was easy.”
“Yes, it was,” Zanna agreed. She stood on the porch, smirking, with Honzur sprawled at her feet.
47
No one died, and the local authorities hauled the Scourge away to the dungeons, but not before Grey Cloak cleaned them out.
Traveling the dusty roads out of Portham, he rolled three dragon charms in the palm of his hand. “I don’t know why we didn’t just rob them before. It seemed pretty easy.”
“We weren’t a match for them before, or at least it was close.” Dyphestive rubbed his jaw. “I think my bones are getting harder. Did you see the beating Bull gave me? It didn’t hurt any more than a pillow.”
“You’re blossoming. Both of you,” Zanna said.
“Blossoming?” Grey Cloak held Streak in his arms and fed the runt dragon a biscuit. “Care to explain? I don’t know that I like the idea of turning into a flower.”
Zanna laughed gently. “A natural goes through two stages. When they are young, their powers reveal themselves during the ripening. They show greater skills than others. If they are properly developed, one can become very strong, and in your case, bond with dragons. But not all do. There are naturals who choose a different way of the world. Like Hercullon or Mad Wolf. However, the two of you were born to ride dragons. That’s your calling.”
“As for blossoming, well, that’s when the full extent of your powers is revealed. It comes through trials and endurance. You’re pushed to your limits, and your abilities blossom.” She took Streak from Grey Cloak. “It’s a beautiful thing to see in action. Grey Cloak, when the barbarians swamped you, you let out a pulse of wizardry that could crack stone. Dyphestive, your powers of invulnerability are growing, much like your father’s, but I warn you, everyone has a weakness. Don’t get cocky.”
Barbarian Backlash: Dragon Wars - Book 14 of 20: An Epic Sword and Sorcery Fantasy Adventure Series Page 15
