Order Of The Dragon (Omnibus 1-4)

by Jason Halstead

  Whiskers stared up at her and then twitched his nose. He turned and looked at the town and then back at her.

  Jethallin nodded. "All right," she said. "I'm going to assume you know enough to stay out. I hope I'm not wrong."

  She rose back up and walked ahead. By the time she rounded a bend, Whiskers had fallen behind. She turned to watch him and saw him drop back to his fours again and then turned and walked into the jungle beside the road. Jethallin smiled. At least he'd be safe a little longer. Unless he found something dangerous in the jungle, that is.

  Jethallin was fretting over the rat's safety when she looked up and saw the open timber gates of a town ahead of her. She stumbled to a halt and felt her lips lifting in shocked surprise. It was a simple town. Small by the standards of the massive city she'd grown up in, but she saw people and some of them looked back at her. They were human and they didn't look annoyed or angry. She hurried forward through the gates and passed a guard who did little more than give her a once-over and then nod as she slowed.

  She sped back up and walked through town. The smells of a leather tanning shop assaulted her and made her nose crinkle in disgust, but she gladly accepted it as a sign of civilization. She passed it by and was treated to the odors of the public jakes. Eyes watering this time, she kept going and soon found an inn across from a smithy.

  She thought about her meager supply of coins and decided that food was most important. She turned in to the inn and was greeted by an empty common room, save for a young boy that was sweeping the floor. He looked up at her and frowned. "My pa's out back splitting wood but he's not looking for any help."

  "What? Oh! Help? Um, I'm not after help. I was hoping for some food. I've been on the road since before sunup and I haven't eaten in a while."

  The boy leaned the broom against the wall and looked her up and down. "You're dirty."

  Jethallin smiled. "I bet I am," she admitted. "It was a long walk from Mira."

  His eyes grew wide. "You walked from Mira? That's the other side of the desert! That's months away!"

  Jethallin laughed. "Not months, surely. I don't know how long it took me. Maybe two weeks?"

  He shook his head and couldn't seem to find the strength to lift his jaw closed.

  "How about some food?" she asked again. "I can pay. A little, at least."

  He stiffened and nodded. "Right! Sorry about that. Uh, let me go get my pa. He doesn't want me using the kitchen, says I'll burn the place down."

  "Good idea," Jethallin said just as Jennaca let out a squeal and stretched out her arms and legs in a yawn.

  "Saints of the swamp! You've got a baby!" he stammered.

  Jethallin nodded. "A hungry baby," she reminded him.

  "Oh, that's right. Uh, don't steal nothing. I'll be right back!"

  Jethallin watched him run through a door and heard another one slam shut a moment later. Dimly, she heard him shouting but couldn't make out his words. She smiled and rocked Jennaca to soothe her as she tried to pick herself up and look around.

  "What's this about a baby?" a man sputtered as he walked through the door and was trailed by his son.

  Jethallin smiled and bowed her head to the man, forcing herself not to react to his mangled face. He fell silent as he stared at her with his one good eye. The other was sewn shut with thick cords. The source of the injury looked to be years past by the scar that ran across his crown and cheek.

  "A baby with a baby," he grunted.

  "Good barkeep, I've been on the road for some time now. I was looking for a simple meal and—"

  "You won't find charity here," he growled at her.

  "Pa, she said—"

  "Be quiet!" the man snapped.

  Jennaca let loose a cry at the man's sharp tone. Jethallin switched her grip on the sling and bounced her in her arms to calm her. "I'm not looking for charity," she said. "I have a little coin, enough for some soup or bread, I hope."

  He frowned and dropped his eyes into the bundle of clothing. Jennaca's hands emerged and pushed the edge of the sling away, allowing her to see out and him to see in. Jethallin braced herself for the cry of terror from her child when she saw the disfigured man's face. It never came.

  He harrumphed and turned away from her. "Got some bread rising but it won't be ready for hours. Eggs and taters, I can do for a silver piece."

  Jethallin felt her shoulders and back sag with relief. She took a step forward to disguise her momentary weakness and moved to a seat at the bar. "Blessings of the saints be upon you," she said.

  He snorted. "The saints got better things to do than worry about the likes of me. Sit there and keep that baby quiet. I got boarders upstairs who won't take kindly to being woken up early."

  She smiled and nodded to him, but the barkeep had already turned and walked back into the kitchen to fix her meal. Jethallin turned to see the boy standing there and watching her and her daughter.

  "I'm Jethallin," she said with a smile. "This is Jennaca. She's my daughter."

  He blushed and turned away, and then turned back and looked closer. "You don't look old enough to have a baby."

  She smiled again. "That's funny. I feel like I'm a hundred years old after my walk."

  He laughed and looked at Jennaca again. "She's pretty," he offered.

  "Thank you."

  "You are too," he said and then blushed red again. "I mean, um—"

  "Seth, get your arse out back and finish splitting that wood!" the owner of the inn shouted from the kitchen.

  The boy shrugged and rushed away, leaving Jethallin laughing. If his guests wouldn't wake up with him bellowing like that, she couldn't imagine Jennaca waking them. Smiling at the simple human interaction that didn't involve her being tied up and her baby threatened, she settled in to wait for breakfast and then see about finding a guide through the swamp to Snake-Killer's village.

  Chapter 13

  A boot in his side woke him. Alto grunted and reached for his ribs, only to stop when he felt his muscles protesting. He blinked and looked around the dark room and saw the imposing figure standing beside him, clad in only a loincloth.

  "About damn time you woke up," Garrick said.

  Alto tried to sit up and failed. He collapsed back on the floor and focused on breathing through the sensations his waking body was sending him. He clenched his teeth together and tried again, rising enough so he could sit and put his back to a wall. He discovered he'd been stripped down to his smallclothes too. "What happened?"

  "They hit you pretty hard."

  Alto reached up, wincing as his arm rose above his shoulder, and rubbed the back of his skull. The touch to the bruise on the back of his head made pain shot through his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through it. The memories returned in a rush of the bar fight and being overwhelmed by the guards.

  "Did they knock you out too?"

  Garrick chuckled. "They'd need another dozen guards for that."

  "You surrendered?"

  The barbarian shrugged. "Knew I couldn't carry you and I didn't fancy a half-dozen arrows in my belly."

  "Bolts."

  "What?"

  "They were crossbows. Crossbows shoot bolts. Or quarrels. Depends on who you talk to, I guess."

  Garrick snorted. "Don't suppose it matters what you call them—they'll all kill you just the same."

  "Fair enough," Alto said. He raised his head slowly and looked beyond the almost naked barbarian at the dark and damp room. "This the dungeon?"

  "Yes."

  "Part of the castle, right?"

  Garrick nodded and then added, "Under it."

  "Good."

  Alto could barely make out the northerner's raised eyebrow. Then Garrick started laughing. His shoulders shook silently at first, but in a few seconds his voice shared his mirth with anyone able to hear him. When the large warrior regained control, he looked at Alto and accused, "This was your plan to get in the castle and meet the king?"

  "It's a work in progress," Alto said. "I didn
't expect you to come with me."

  Garrick grinned. "Patrina wouldn't let me live it down if I didn't."

  The mention of the princess made Alto close his eyes and lower his head again. The ale and the crack to his skull were competing to make his life miserable. The thought of standing up made his belly twist.

  Alto took a deep breath and held it. He had to get up. He had to move. He was a warrior. He was a man who made things happen. Kar had once told him that he wasn't a defender, he was an aggressor. He didn't have time for headaches and hangovers. He couldn't waste his time wallowing in pity or misery.

  With an exhaled grunt, Alto punched his fist into the ground and used it to roll up to his knees and then climbed to his feet. Garrick stepped back and watched him, and then he nodded. "Good. Now what?"

  Alto reached down to his bruised side and looked at Garrick. "Did you kick me?

  The northerner grinned. "I was getting bored watching you sleep."

  "How long was I out?"

  Garrick shrugged. "A few hours. Maybe."

  "That's it?" Alto sighed and waved his hand at the door. "Since you're so manly, go break it down."

  "Already tried," Garrick said. "Strong door."

  Alto looked at the door and grumbled, "But you're so big."

  Garrick grinned. "Your sister been talking about me again?"

  Alto's eyes narrowed as he turned to glare at the large man.

  "Hey, don't look at me like that. You gave your permission when we was down in Mira!"

  "I gave you permission to stay with her, not to bed her like a tavern whore!"

  Garrick opened and closed his mouth. He shrugged his shoulders. "Seems fair. You got Trina, I get Caitlyn."

  "They aren't trophies to win and trade!" Alto protested. His voice rose as he ranted at the man. "They're people! And besides, if you had her, she'd still be with you, not left behind while you have no plans of ever going back there."

  "She offered herself to me," Garrick shouted back. "I wasn't the one taking advantage. If anything, she was!"

  Alto's brow furrowed. "Caitlyn? Never!"

  Garrick nodded. "I'll swear on Preth's sword. That woman knew things no girl in the northlands ever thought of. Whatever she done down there taught her some tricks the rest of her kind need to know!"

  When Alto was able to speak he asked, "Her kind?"

  "Yeah, women. Kelgryn, Kingdom, northern, or whatever. She could teach them all a few things. She took her mouth and—"

  "Enough!" Alto howled. He reached out with his mind and blew away the cobwebs and darkness. He felt his sword and called to it. In half a breath's time, it shimmered into existence in his hand and lit the darkness with a golden glow.

  Garrick's eyes were wide in the sudden light even as he moved his hand to block the glow from blinding him. "How did you do that?" he gasped.

  Alto scowled and turned away from him towards the door. With each step, the part of his soul bonded in the sword reconnected with his body and flushed away the darkness that clung to him. By the time he reached the door, he still felt his injuries but his mind, at least, felt refreshed. He took the sword in a two-handed grip and thrust it with all the might he could muster into the thick wooden door.

  The tip of the broadsword pierced the wood and slowed as Alto pushed against it. The wide blade slowed and came to a stop after several inches impaled the heavy door. Alto grunted but it was stuck fast.

  "Now what?" Garrick asked.

  Alto ignored him and worked the sword up and down to force the keen edge into widening the cut. After several up and down movements, he lifted his leg and placed his bare foot against the door and pulled on the blade. A groan escaped his lips as the muscles in his back and legs strained. The sword budged, proving to him that it could be done. He took a breath and tried again and felt it move slowly for a second and then it slid free from the door. Alto stumbled back and crashed into Garrick, sending both of them falling to the dirty floor.

  "Watch what you're doing!" Garrick cried out after they came to a stop and realized no one was hurt. He glanced down at the tip of the glowing sword that was resting near his arm and said, "And be careful where you're sticking that thing!"

  Alto climbed to his feet and held the Soulsword at his side. He stared down at Garrick and said, "You be careful where you're sticking your thing."

  Garrick met Alto's eyes and let out a laugh. He reached up until Alto took his hand and helped pull the man to his feet. "You should count yourself lucky," Garrick said as they turned to face the door. "Lucky it wasn't Trina."

  Alto shook his head. "Trina made it obvious she wasn't interested in you long ago."

  Garrick shrugged. "But I'm so big!"

  Alto rolled his eyes. "Go kick that door open."

  "You get hit harder than I thought?" Garrick asked. "Told you once already I can't do it."

  "Try it again. I felt my sword cut into the beam locking the door shut."

  "Oh," Garrick said. He studied the door and shrugged. "Guess it can't hurt to try."

  Garrick moved until he was lined up with the door and took a deep breath. He rolled his neck, popping it and making Alto wince. Garrick took two long and powerful strides and then planted the heel of his foot against the door in a kick that made the muscles in his legs flex and quiver. The door shuddered and flexed under the blow, bowing outwards and rewarding them with the sound of wood cracking.

  "Again!" Alto urged.

  Garrick turned his head and scowled at the warrior before returning his attention to the door and driving his shoulder against it. The door cracked again and then burst open under the barbarian's weight. Garrick stumbled into the hallway and collided with the far wall of the dungeon hallway. He bounced off and managed to keep his balance after shaking his head.

  Alto rushed out of the door and held his sword up, lighting the passage in both directions between the distant lamps set in the walls. He glanced at the broken beam that barred their cell door shut and then up at Garrick. "Good job. Which way?"

  Garrick turned to his left and his right. They could hear shouts from both directions, muffled by the cell doors that kept the other prisoners confined. He stiffened and pointed. "That way!"

  Alto turned, the question of why unnecessary. He saw the guards rushing out of an open doorway to his right. They shouted at them to stop and ran towards them.

  "They've got swords," Garrick observed.

  "So do I!" Alto said. "Stay behind me!"

  "And armor."

  Alto snorted and raised his blade up. He heard a tearing sound but a quick glance only showed Garrick stepping up beside him. A moment later, he realized the large man held something in his hand and was spinning it around. He turned his head to get a better look and lowered his sword in shock.

  "What are you doing?" Alto hissed.

  "Improvising," the barbarian said as he whipped his torn loincloth through the air. "Patrina shows a little skin and she can cut down an army. Imagine what I can do?"

  "End up a eunuch, most likely!"

  Garrick chuckled. "Might as well. I'm afraid your sister's ruined me for other women."

  Alto growled deep in his throat and turned back to the guards. He shook his head and then found he couldn't push the growing rage in him away. With a howl, he charged at the guards before they could finish closing the distance.

  The four guardsmen were surprised by Alto's tactic and slowed. He cut through the first man by blasting his sword out of the way and cleaving through the steel rings sewn into the rugged leather of the guard's chest. He twisted with his back to the wall and pushed his opponent away, allowing him to slip inside the next guard's reach.

  Garrick's arm shot out towards the second guard, who turned and tried to jam his sword into Alto's side. His loincloth wrapped around the man's forearm, distracting him. He turned just as Garrick yanked on it and pulled the sword arm towards him. Garrick struck the hilt of the sword with his other hand and knocked it to the ground, and then reversed his arm
and drove his elbow into the surprised guard's face.

  The back of the guard's head smashed into the wall before the rest of his body followed. He bounced forward without taking a step and broke his fall with the crumpled body of the guard Alto had already killed. Garrick started to kneel down to pick up the dropped sword when the fourth dungeon guard slipped past Alto and his opponent to face him.

  Garrick rose, loincloth hanging from his hand. He turned and held his arms out wide to display himself lewdly. "This what you're looking for?" he invited. "There's plenty left after your mother had her share!"

  The guard swore and jumped forward, sword leading the way. Garrick threw his arm up and snapped the loincloth like a whip so that it cracked the empty air a few inches from the guard's face. The guard recoiled, leaving him off balance.

  Garrick smacked the blade aside and pushed after the guard. He grabbed him by the jerkin and threw him into the wall, knocking both the air from his lungs and the sword from his fingers. The guard stumbled forward and was met with Garrick's knee in his stomach. He started to crumple forward but Garrick caught him with his loincloth-wielding arm around the neck and kept him up by the strength of his arm alone. Garrick squeezed until the man went completely limp. When he let him go, the loincloth fell with him onto his face.

  "A fate worse than death," Alto muttered from where he stood breathing heavily over the body of the other guard he'd slain. Blood dripped down his ribs from a thin cut along his side.

  "Your sis—"

  "Enough!" Alto snapped at him. He glared at the barbarian and then shook his head. "Make yourself decent and grab a sword."

  Garrick grinned as he tied his loincloth back about his waist and took a pair of boots from the guard with the largest feet. He grimaced as he forced his feet into them, and then stood and stomped a few times to seat them properly. The barbarian shrugged and picked up a sword and turned to face Alto. "Ready."

  Alto already wore a pair of stolen boots and had buckled one of the small shields the guards had onto his arm. He glared a final time at the smiling barbarian and turned away towards the open door to the guard room. "Let's go. We've got a king to kill."