Order Of The Dragon (Omnibus 1-4)

by Jason Halstead

  Carson leapt on the man beside him and bore him to the ground. He drove his knee into the man's stomach while he clawed at his exposed throat with his left hand. His right he used to hold the guard's arm at bay.

  "Carson!" Namitus cried out as he saw a guard preparing to drop his curved sword on the man from behind. Namitus blocked the attack of another guard with his scimitar and drove his dagger into the side of the man's head. He yanked it free and spun to see how Carson fared.

  Carson had rolled and put the guard he'd tackled on top of him. The guard's eyes had widened and a grin started to lift his lips when he gasped and slumped forward on Carson. The second guard Namitus had warned him about pulled his sword free and parted his lips in a curse. Carson pushed the dying man off him and grabbed the hilt of his sword as he rolled to his knees and stood.

  Mordrim broke the leg of the first guard he encountered with a solid strike from his hammer. He left the crippled man behind and charged ahead. The dwarf took a strike from another guard on his shoulder and threw his weight into the man's hip, lifting the guard up and knocking him to the ground. The dwarf kept going, swinging his hammer wide to drive back the guards who tried to approach him as he ran to stand next to the wounded woman and Karthor.

  Kar blocked a sword with his staff and then slammed the iron-shod end of it between the guard's legs. He grimaced and blew out his air, and then snarled and drew his sword back. Kar spat out the words to a spell and spun his staff around before trying to club the man in the head. The guard moved his sword to block the strike with a contemptuous glare in his eyes. As soon as the sword touched the staff, a bolt of energy transferred through the sword to the man's hand like a lightning strike. The man collapsed, twitching and smoking on the floor.

  "Garrick!" Kar shouted, earning a quick glance from the man as he dodged one attack after another and tried to find a way to get inside the reach of the blades the two guards used against him. Kar kicked the fried man's sword towards him and turned towards the crossbowmen who were reloading. He reached into a pouch and drew forth glittering crystals and threw them in an arc towards the bowmen. They sparkled in mid-air and reflected light that joined together in a prismatic cloud that dazzled the bowmen even as the crystals began to spark and explode.

  "Too little, too late, boy hero," Shazamir snarled as Alto stalked him.

  Alto raised his sword and tried to cleave the man's head from his shoulders. His sword slowed as it approached and Shazamir easily stepped aside and out of its reach. Alto drew his Soulsword back and felt it move back to him at a normal speed. "You can't dodge me forever," Alto said.

  "Forever?" Shazamir chuckled and pushed Alto's thrust to the side with his hand. "No, but long enough for you to be a forgotten memory."

  Alto snarled and drew back to strike again. If he could force Shazamir into a corner where he couldn't escape, he might be able to land a strike against him. As it was, the ruler of Shazamir was making a spectacle out of him and driving Alto's anger higher.

  "Keep fighting me," Shazamir goaded. "Every second spent is a second where your friends grow weaker. Your woman edges closer to death and my guards wear down your companions. You are a strong group, but you are no match for the sheer numbers I command."

  Alto pulled back and risked a glance at the room behind him. Garrick was fighting with one of the Miran swords and looked ridiculous swinging the short blade instead of his great sword. Mordrim limped and bled from several wounds but stood among a small pile of fallen guards protecting Karthor and his charges. Kar and Namitus were stranded among several soldiers who surrounded them. The wizard's magic kept them at bay and Namitus used his blades to drive back anyone who thought to flank them. More guards were running into the room from the open door, as well as the various smaller servants' passages.

  Alto looked back at Shazamir and saw the man had backed away from him. The thane of Rockwood pushed aside the hopelessness of their situation and remembered that he fought the king of Shazamir. A man said to be unreachable by any save his closest advisors. Alto had slain dragons and knights. He had the blessings of the saints and no matter how dire the situation, he had to push on. The words Kar had spoken to him when he first picked up a sword came back to him.

  "You are the aggressor; the role of a defender is not for you."

  Alto nodded and raised his gaze to meet Lord Shazamir. The cold and ancient intelligence he saw in them made him hesitate, and then he shook his head and raised his sword. Lord Shazamir's lips moved but Alto didn't hear the words the man spoke. He was flying across the room instead and it was only when he crashed into a group of guards and they softened his landing that he realized Lord Shazamir had used some sort of magic against him.

  Alto lifted himself up enough to lose his balance and roll off the two men he lay on top of. He staggered to his feet and shook his head to try to recover his balance. One of the guards was unconscious or dead. The other was cursing as he cradled his left arm against his side. He drew his curved blade with his right hand and jumped to his feet. Alto's blade drove deep where his neck joined his shoulder and dropped the man back to the ground.

  A guttural roar swept through the throne room and momentarily stilled the combat. As one, everyone turned to look about, even the glaring Lord Shazamir. A shape raced through the throne room doors, moving as fast as the wind. It crashed into one of the guards facing Kar and Namitus and slowed enough for everyone to see the new attacker wasn't one man but two. Or rather, a goblin on the back of a rat.

  Thork appeared in the doorway next and slammed the butt of his spear into the ground. Green rays of light burst from the blade and struck the Miran guards closest to him. They fell to their knees or on their sides, clutching their throats and gasping for breath.

  "Thork!" Lord Shazamir howled. "There is nothing for you here. Be gone!"

  The troll grinned at the glowering king. "Thork goes where da fear is," he said and then looked up at the growing green radiance on his spear tip. "And dis place has lots and lots of fear!"

  Alto tore his eyes from the troll to his own blade and saw a faint green cast to the steel. It had been forged from the finest dwarven steel by Mordrim and Garrick, and then sorcery from Kar was combined with the divine blessings of both Leander and Jarook to allow his soul to be infused with the sword as the blade was quenched with his own blood.

  Alto gasped and looked at Patrina and Caitlyn. Karthor was pale and had shadows under his eyes that spoke of the exhaustion the constant healing was causing him. He would fail soon and then both women would die. Unless the dagger claimed a life. Any life, whether it was his own or someone else's.

  "You may not harm me," Lord Shazamir growled. "I am beyond your reach, Scion!"

  "Thork doesn't need to harm you," the troll said. He strode from the entrance into the room. A guard raised his sword as the troll approached and thrust it at his large belly. Thork ignored the wound and used his free hand to grab the man by the throat and lift him up into the air. The guard moaned as his flesh fell slack and in seconds began to drip from his face. His body twitched and jerked and then lay still as a putrid liquid dripped from his skeletal fingers and boots. The troll tossed the decaying corpse aside and stopped with Shazamir less than a dozen feet from him.

  "Come no closer," Lord Shazamir demanded. "You interfere in my affairs—I will have you banished!"

  "Nope," Thork said with a shake of his head. The shaman threw his spear so that it slammed into the stone ground at Lord Shazamir's feet and stuck there, quivering. "Yous been interfering wif dese stupids lots and lots longer dan Thork. Dis is just making it fair."

  Shazamir stumbled back from the force of the spear's impact in the ground. He opened his mouth to retort and then looked down at himself. He raised his eyes and glared at the troll, and then spat out a single word in a language Alto had never heard. He turned and ran, streaking behind his throne on the raised dais and ducking through a doorway.

  Thork turned and looked at Alto. "Well? Yous's gonna go
bash dat stupid-head or what?"

  Alto jerked and started after him. He veered over to where Patrina and Caitlyn lay and knelt next to them. "Forgive me," he whispered to Caitlyn before he grabbed the dagger and pulled it free of her chest.

  Caitlyn stiffened as blood surged up and out of the wound. She shuddered and sagged back onto the ground, seeming to fall in on herself. Blood continued to surge from her breast in rhythmic—and weakening—spurts.

  "Thork, the potion you gave me when you made my sword—Caitlyn and Patrina need one now."

  Thork looked at him and started digging through his pouches until he found a flask. He frowned and tossed it over his shoulder. It hit Bonky in the chest and bounced off to strike the head of the goblin's mount. Bonky caught it from there and sniffed at it. He popped the cap and took a drink, and then snarled and twitched.

  Thork ignored the goblin and continued pulling out flasks. Four more were dropped to the ground before he picked one up and handed it to Karthor. "Try dis," he said.

  The priest nodded and unscrewed the stopper before he tilted it to Caitlyn's lips. Her blood was welling up with each failing beat of her heart rather than spurting with the power of her life. The troll's potion slipped into her mouth and she swallowed it out of reflex, and then her cheeks twitched and her eyes watered at the foul taste of the potion. She swallowed again before gasping and coughing. She gagged and twisted onto her side, blood bursting out of her chest anew. Her hand covered her chest but the blood kept bursting through her fingers. She nodded and looked at the wide-eyed priest.

  Karthor turned to Patrina and offered the potion to her. She looked at Caitlyn and received a similar nod from her wounded future sister-in-law. She closed her eyes and drank from it. She stopped when there was nothing left and then let the flask fall to the ground. She grimaced and shivered and then gasped. She looked down as fresh blood drained from the wound in her belly. She shook her head and looked up at Karthor and then at Thork.

  "What is this?"

  "Troll blood," Thork said. He guffawed at the looks on the face of both women. "Dat's gonna keep yous bleeding for a while, but when dat's done, if yous's still got holes stuck in yous, den dat's it. Yous's all done in."

  "Thank you, my friend," Alto said. He turned and started up the dais.

  "Wait!" Garrick called out. He ran to the table and grabbed his sword and axe off it. "I'll go with you."

  "And me," Carson said before he ran over to collect his surrendered weapons.

  "No, protect Patrina and Caitlyn, I beg you. I won't risk any more of you."

  Alto didn't wait for a reply or argument. He turned and ran through the door that Shazamir had taken. Less than a few seconds had passed with the companions turning to look at each other in confusion when Thork chuckled.

  "Yous's gonna listen to him?"

  "We're still surrounded," Kar pointed out as he looked at the guards. The guards, for their part, were looking at one another and anywhere but at the troll or the band of outsiders among them.

  "Dem's just leaving, wasn't yous?" Thork turned and cast a frightening snarl at the guards. They turned and fled, regardless of whether they wore the livery of a royal guard or the lesser status of a city guardsmen. In seconds, even the flapping of their feet on the stone disappeared.

  "Thork and Bonky stay wif dem," Thork said. "Yous can go help wif da bashins."

  Bonky rode up next to the troll and stopped at his side. He squeaked as he opened his mouth and pointed at the large whiskers that had grown out of his cheeks. His nose and mouth had elongated several inches to resemble a snout not unlike that of the rat he rode.

  "Oops," Thork said as he looked down at his assistant.

  Chapter 26

  Alto had no idea where he was going as he ran through the hallway. He knew he had to hurry before Shazamir found his way outside, or at least to a room without a ceiling. Like Myskrakoth, if Shazamir could turn himself into a dragon and take to the air, Alto had little hope of defeating him.

  Alto put his shoulder into a partly open door and staggered off the heavy obstacle into an office that spoke of wealth to the point of decadence. His sidestep to keep on his feet saved him as a pair of crossbow bolts sailed down the passage. He spared half a moment to wonder at the wisdom of leaving his shield behind on the table in favor of taking the dagger that was now tucked in his belt.

  One of the two royal guardsmen dropped his crossbow and drew his sword. The other worked frantically to reload. Alto charged the sword-wielding man and then jumped away from him rather than attacking. The man hesitated, confused, and turned to follow Alto's path as the warrior cut through the raised crossbow and ripped the tip of his green glowing blade through the other guard's ribs and sternum.

  Alto turned, dancing on the balls of his feet, and kept his sword moving in a low arc that forced the other guard to leap back. The guard barely caught himself before Alto slammed his shoulder into the guard's chest and sent him stumbling back with his arms windmilling to keep from falling. He backed into a divan and tripped on it, falling backwards and striking his back and head on the wall behind him. Alto lunged in and buried his sword in the man's chest hard enough he felt the tip strike the stone behind his victim.

  With the latest threat dealt with, Alto yanked his sword free and ran out through the other open door in the room and straight into a private bath, complete with two nude slave girls who huddled together on a bench, clutching each other.

  Alto slid to a stop on the tile floor and saw one other exit from the room. He looked at the two cowering women, one dark skinned and one light skinned, and he glowered at them. "Where's Shazamir?" Alto growled.

  They both pointed at the open doorway. Alto snarled and ran through it and into a foyer that led to an open archway into a bedroom fit for an emperor on his left, a closed doorway ahead of him, and a large door on his right. He skidded to a stop again and looked at his options. A noise from the bedroom of clinking metal helped him make his decision.

  The bedroom was empty, aside from the elegant statues in the corners and a tapestry depicting the whole of Shazamir if one were to look down upon the land as a bird might. Or a dragon, Alto realized. He spied a doorway to the right of the immense bed and knew that his target had retreated there. Alto slowed as he approached it and rolled his shoulders to loosen them before he stepped into the doorway.

  Shazamir was buckling a greave on his leg as Alto stepped through. Already the man had donned a chain shirt and, with the help of a servant, buckled a cuirass about his torso. The slave leapt to his feet from where he tried to work the buckles on the greave when he saw Alto and backed away. The unattached piece of armor clattered to the floor.

  Alto looked around the room with a critical eye. It was smaller than the bedroom, but large enough for a table and chair, several bookcases and chests, and an open section where the floor showed signs of scarring from fires or other dark arts. There were no other exits.

  "So this is where you die," Alto promised. "You and your cult of deluded dragon worshippers."

  Lord Shazamir snarled and reached down to grab a sword from a chest. He pulled it out and drew it from its scabbard to reveal a blade so black it seemed to suck the light from the air instead of reflect it.

  "You pathetic human," Shazamir said. "Thork may have helped you find me but he can't stop me. Whatever his reasons, you and your precious friends will fall this day. And in the tomorrows that come, your people will surrender to my rule or be crushed underfoot."

  Alto reached down to touch the hilt of the dagger at his side. "Why? Isn't Shazamir enough?"

  "Such a human thing to say. If you can only dream of mundane conquests, then you are to be pitied."

  Alto frowned, confused by the lord's answer. "What more is there?"

  "There is power beyond what this world can handle," Shazamir said. "Power enough to destroy the scions like Thork. Power enough to challenge the saints themselves!"

  "You're mad," Alto declared. "Sarya dreamt of suc
h power and look where that got her."

  "Sarya dreamt of living forever, but she twisted what I taught her and it failed her. She was a fool to think she could retain her heritage and have the best of both her old nature and her new one."

  Alto's eyes narrowed. "What are you?"

  Shazamir sneered at him. "I am beyond your ability to comprehend, human!"

  Alto shrugged and sliced his sword through the air. "That's fine with me. Only thing I need to understand is how to kill you."

  "Thork shattered my defenses for a time but don't worry, I've been fighting upstarts like you for eons. Throw that sword away and I'll spare you the misery of seeing everyone else die first."

  Alto's answer was to step forward and raise his sword.

  "So be it," Shazamir said with a feral grin. He raised his slender long sword and drew it back, and then thrust his other hand towards Alto with his palm stretched out towards him.

  Alto felt waves of magic break on his sword and part to pass by him. He wasn't sure what had just happened but he knew he'd survived it. That, and Shazamir looked surprised to see him still standing. He lunged forward and in three strides, he struck with the intent of hacking his opponent's head off.

  The ebony blade parried his powerful swing and forced it to go high and over Lord Shazamir's head. Alto stepped with the momentum of his sword but Shazamir's dark blade riposted and kissed his shoulder and back as he twisted away. The pain that flared through the wound was at once searing like a red brand used to mark cattle and then it burned with an icy promise of death.

  Alto leapt away and stared at the red glow on the edge of Shazamir's sword where it had bitten him. The glow faded as it was absorbed into the blade's supernatural blackness. He raised his Soulsword again between them and moved away from the table he'd nearly stumbled into.