The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) (80 page)

CHAPTER 23

“What was that all about?” Ben said, scratching his head. “What’s a Dragon’s Ultimatum?”

Bayzog and Brenwar were silent, watching the night sky. Glum.

Ben turned his sights toward the sky and clouds in the air. Nath and the grey scaler were a black dot that disappeared into the distant hills. He felt empty and turned back to his friends. Their faces were empty.

“They’re going to fight, aren’t they?” Ben said.

Brenwar huffed and jumped off his horse.

Bayzog frowned. “It’s a battle that doesn’t end well for one or the other.”

Ben’s hand fell on Fang’s hilt. “But he doesn’t have a weapon. He needs Fang. That dragon will kill him!”

“Keep yer voice down,” Brenwar said. “You’re not some child anymore, and neither is Nath. He made his decision. He’ll live or die by it. As will the rest of us.”

“You always have the most spirited words, dwarf,” Ben said, walking over to Brenwar clutching his fist.

“Watch yourself, man.”

“The both of you watch yourselves. Nath is gone, and there’s no point in arguing about it now, especially with one another.” Bayzog left his horse and searched for wood. “Let’s make camp. Wait it out.”

“Pah,” Brenwar said, picking up a stick and snapping it. “Never listens.”

“I apologize, Brenwar,” Ben said, walking over. “I’m certain Dragon meant well.”

“He always means well. That’s the problem,” Brenwar said. “But it doesn’t always end well. That fight will be to the death. There’s no more Nath Dragon if he’s dead.”

“But why would he do that?” Ben said, shaking his head. “That’s a big dragon. As big as I’ve ever seen. And … Nath has no weapon. No weapon at all.”

Even though he was a hardened soldier, Ben hadn’t been able to help marveling at Nath’s prowess since he’d awakened. Fast. Powerful. Strong. He did things that even extraordinary men couldn’t do, but fighting a dragon five times as big with no weapon? That wasn’t a death match. It was a funeral.

“We should be there to help him,” Ben mumbled. His fingers toyed with Fang’s hilt. “You should be there to help him. Why don’t you like him, Fang?”

Brenwar’s brows furrowed with a grunt. “Fang’s got sense. There’s still too much darkness in Nath, I fear. Though he does seem to be getting better.”

Bayzog dropped some wood in front of them.

“What are you doing, elf? We aren’t building a fire,” Brenwar said, “not with our enemies all around us.”

“It’s become a habit, I suppose.”

Thunder and lightning cracked in the sky. All eyes went toward the distant hills.

“Why don’t you make a tent?” Brenwar said. “It’s going to rain. Heavy.”

“I didn’t think the rain bothered you,” Bayzog said.

“It doesn’t. I’m just giving you something to do.”

“Do you think the battle will last long?” Ben said. “What if Dragon loses? How will we know?”

“We’ll know,” Brenwar said, “because if that grey scaler finishes Nath, he’ll be coming for us next.”

Ben punched his fist into his hand. He’d been fighting hard alongside Nath for months, and losing him didn’t seem possible. He was a grown man. A veteran. Tried. Tested. Tough. He’d let those things keep a wall between him and Nath. Not getting as close as he once was long ago. Now he wished he’d taken the time to say a few more kind words to him. To let Nath know that even though he’d lost his wife and children, now he had hope. A distant flicker caught his eye.

“We’re going to have visitors.”

Brenwar and Bayzog turned their attention to the great bridge. Soldiers with torches were coming their way. A squad of a dozen, by the looks of them.

“Let’s ride,” Brenwar said, going to his horse.

Bayzog met him at the saddle and said, “I’ve a better idea.” He patted the small chest hitched on Brenwar’s saddle.

“Oh no,” Brenwar said, pushing Bayzog back. “I’m not taking any potion.”

“Time is fleeting, dwarf. It’s probably this or a dive into the burning waters below.”

Brenwar peered over the chasm, grunted, and shook his head.

“All right, then. Get it down.”

Bayzog untied the chest and handed it to Brenwar, who popped it open.

Ben leaned over Bayzog’s shoulder. He’d only gotten a couple of peeks inside the chest over the years and was always fascinated by it. He shielded his eyes from the illumination within the chest that was filled with many colors.

Quickly, Bayzog rummaged through the potion vials. His slender fingers pulled out a vial filled with a sparkling blue liquid. He closed the chest, and Brenwar set it down.

“Drink a third,” the elven wizard said, handing it to Ben. “Just a sip.”

Ben did. Its taste was wonderful sliding down his throat and into his belly. Everything tingled. He blinked his eyes. “What does it do?” It seemed funny that he’d taken a drink of it without giving any thought to what it was.

Bayzog sipped his portion.

“A moment,” he said to Ben, turning to Brenwar, “Now you, dwarf.”

Brenwar grabbed the vial with his stubby hands, eyeing it.

“Hurry,” Bayzog urged.

“Dwarves don’t hurry,” Brenwar said with a frown. He sucked the vial down and pitched the bottle into the chasm. “And it better not turn me into an orc. If it does—”

“Would an elf ever turn himself into an orc?” Bayzog admonished.

“They’re almost here,” Ben said. He looked at the torches and then at his hands. Nothing was happening. “Am I supposed to turn into something?”

“You’re already something,” Bayzog said. “You’ll just be turning into something else.” A wart sprung up on the elf’s nose.

Ben stiffened. His feet and ears had a burning sensation. His knuckles became hairy and his skin ruddy. Across from him, Bayzog’s body contorted. The slender elf shrank and widened. His garments changed from robes to roughly hewn clothes. The Elderwood Staff became a walking stick of sorts.

“What have you done, elf?” Brenwar exclaimed. His fingers clutched at his beard that was shrinking into his face. Sharp ears with little knots in them popped out on his head, and his wide features became more slender and hairless. A yellow gleam painted his eyes and teeth as well. He looked between Ben and Bayzog. “A goblin? I’m a stinking goblin. Horn-blasted potions!”

“Well, we all have something in common,” Ben added, fighting the queasiness and funny taste in his mouth. “We’re all pretty ugly.”

“Ugly yerself,” Brenwar said. He shook his fist at Bayzog the goblin. “Tricky elf.”

“It’s no trick, Brenwar. Now settle yourself. They come,” Bayzog said, running his fingers through his ratty hair. “They come.” He tossed the Cloth of Concealment over the chest.

“Who does the talking?” Ben asked. He noticed his voice sounded strange, and his words were too.

“I’ll do that,” Bayzog said, stepping forward to greet the oncoming soldiers. There were twelve of them. Heavily armed. All lizard men, but led by an orc with neck muscles up to his ears. He towered over Bayzog the goblin.

Ben found the moment surreal.
This is madness.
His fingers rubbed the hilt of a knife behind the back of his belt.
How long do potions last, anyway?
His stomach gurgled.

“What are you doing out here?” the orc growled, eyeing them all with suspicion.

“Camping,” Bayzog said, sounding every bit like a nasty goblin. “We cross the bridge tomorrow. Make camp tonight.” He wrung his hands. “Problem, orc?”

The orc made its way over to the horses. Checked the saddles.

“Where’d you come by these horses, goblins? Fine steeds they are.”

“Stole them,” Bayzog said. “We cross the bridge and sell them to the Clerics of Barnabus in the morning.”

“Is that so?” The orc eyed Ben. “And who’d you steal these horses from? They don’t look like easy pickings for goblins such as you to come by.” It towered over Ben with its hands on its hips. “Well, goblin?”

Ben swallowed.

“Er … we stole them from an awful dwarf and two humans.” He pulled out his knife. “And now they be dead.” He licked the blade. “The blood of dwarves tastes awful.”

The orc laid a heavy hand on Ben’s shoulder and snickered. “Aye, but not as awful as the ale they drink. Har. Har. I hate dwarves.”

Brenwar stiffened.

The orc turned its attention back to the horses. “Hmmm … we could use these horses. And I don’t like seeing those Clerics of Barnabus getting the first offer at everything.” It grabbed the reins. “Come with me.”

“But,” Ben stammered, “where are we going?”

“Across the bridge to barter for your horses.”

Ben’s eyes went to Bayzog.
Think of something, wizard!

“We already have a buyer,” Bayzog said, “that expects us.”

“Well see about that. Now come on.”

“But,” Ben started.

The orc poked him in the head. “I could just kill you all,” the orc grinned, jangling a necklace of bone fingers around his neck. “You know that, don’t you?”

Ben nodded.

Away they went toward the bridge, leaving the chest and the hope of Nath Dragon’s return alone in the darkness.

Ben rubbed his forehead.

How much longer will this potion last? Once it wears off, we’re done for!

CHAPTER 24

The dwarves’ shoulders were heavy. Pilpin rode behind Devliik with the others and the dead behind them. It was the grimmest Pilpin had ever felt. Not only had another brother dwarf fallen to the hands of their enemies, they’d lost Gorlee as well.

“Why do we go this way?” Pilpin questioned Devliik.

The thickly thewed dwarf didn’t turn but went on steadily back the way they had come.

Pilpin looked back at the nearest dwarf, who shrugged in return. He ground his teeth. All the dwarves were banged up in one way or another. A bloody sling held up a wrist that dangled. Ears and teeth were missing. Eyes were swollen black under heavy brows, and a couple of dwarves were coughing with a nasty rattle in their chests. It made Pilpin realize something.

Gorlee had made a sacrifice.

Otherwise, they’d all be dead.

We should go after him. Perhaps I can convince Devliik.

They made it all the way back to the place where the tracks of the satyrs split. Devliik climbed off his horse, adjusted his dented helmet, and limped through the woods. Pilpin did the same. When he caught up with Devliik, the brown-bearded dwarf kneeled in the pines.

“These tracks are still good,” Devliik said.

“Good for what?” Pilpin replied.

Devliik stood up and slapped Pilpin in the shoulder.

“We may have missed our opportunity to kill one satyr, but we won’t miss another.” Devliik limped back over to his horse and climbed on. “Pilpin, you’re coming with me. Two of you take our brother back for a proper burial.”

The grimness in Pilpin’s chest eased. One satyr would certainly lead to another. One trap had been sprung by the pipe-playing fiends, but would there still be another?
There’s only one way to find out.
Pilpin snapped his reins and rode with a slight smile on his face.

“We’ll make them bury twenty of theirs for every one of ours!”

All the dwarves huffed in the rain.

“Morgdon!”

CHAPTER 25

Nath felt strange. In a twisted way, the ride on the grey scaler’s back reminded him of the days when he had ridden on the back of his father. The moment of reflection stirred him. Sometimes they’d spent days flying over Nalzambor without even landing. It was then that Nath had seen some of the most incredible things he ever saw. Now it all seemed long forgotten.

I can’t let you down, Father. I won’t let you down anymore.

He could feel the might underneath the scales of the dragon’s back, the heart thumping like a blacksmith’s hammer underneath, the power of the grey scaler’s beating wings that lifted them higher and faster with a single flap. Nath took a deep breath and tried to block out the pain that still bit in his side. The dagger’s cursed wound had not fully healed. It still felt like rusty nail in his ribs.

The dragon made a slow spiral into a clearing on top of the hills and landed.

Nath slid off his neck and backed away.

“It’s not too late to succumb,” he said, stretching out his arms. “You can fly away and never be seen again.”

The dragon’s eyes were dark with fury. He huffed a burst of flame and a cloud of smoke.

Today the son of the King Dragon dies. And soon the king will as well.

His black tail lashed out.

Thwack!

Nath jumped back. The tail clipped his chest, spinning him around and hurling him into the trees. Nath got up just in time to see the tail striking again, sweeping across the grove like a striking snake. Nath hopped over the top and dashed away into the woods.

Be smart, Nath!

Without a weapon, he knew it would take more than brute force to slay the dragon. All of his cunning as well. Nath could hear the grey scaler’s voice in his head.

You flee like a rabbit? The Prince of Dragons … a coward.

The words stung a little, but his ribs hurt more. Nath gathered himself behind a great tree. Waited. There was one rule in a Dragon’s Ultimatum. One must be vanquished. How long that took was entirely a different matter. Battles were known to take hours, days, or even weeks. Still, Nath had friends that needed him and other pressing matters to deal with.

I see I have erred
, the grey scaler said in Nath’s mind.
The woodland will delay your death and my flight to glory.
The dragon pushed his way through the woods, snapping and uprooting small trees with his weight, sniffing and snorting.
I can smell you. You can’t hide forever.

Nath could feel the grey scaler’s presence. Fiery breath came from the far side of the tree. Out of the corner of Nath’s eye, he saw the dragon’s long tongue lick out.

I bet you’ll taste good. It’s a shame I will not eat you. A nibble when you’re dead, perhaps
, the dragon said in Nath’s mind, licking his tongue out again, on the other side of the tree this time.

Nath snatched the tongue with his claws and jerked it with all his might.

The dragon’s neck snapped back, freeing the tongue and howling a painful roar.

Nath moved behind the distracted dragon, took a deep breath, and burst out with his own flames into the scaly haunches of the dragon.

The grey scaler bucked and roared, louder this time, splintering and felling more trees.

Yes!
Nath thought,
I’ve wounded him. Hurt him. Angered him for certain.
Nath raced back into the center of the grove with his dragon heart pumping, feeling like his entire body was on fire.
I can do this!
He spread his arms wide. “What are you waiting for, dragon? I’m here, and unlike you, I’m not scorched! Perhaps it is I that will be sampling you when this is all over.”

The dragon stormed out of the forest, eyes angry but wary. Without warning, a stream of fire shot out.

Nath twisted away. Flames still caught his back. He cried out. His ears caught the dragon’s paws digging up the earth and bounding toward him. He scrambled away and dashed headlong for the forest. A blast of fire caught him square in the back, driving him to the ground.

Nath screamed.

Fire was one thing. Dragon fire was quite another. Dragon scales or not, the fire hurt. Nath twisted himself onto his back just as the dragon’s paw came down.

Whap!

Pinned by the waist to the ground, Nath felt the dragon’s head butting his back.

It’s over for you, human!

“No,” Nath managed to say, “it’s over for you. I have you just where I want you.”

The dragon’s head leaned back.
I don’t believe so
.

Buy time. Buy time. Buy time,
Nath thought.

A huge, clawed paw began to crush him with raw power.

Nath took a short breath and breathed fire on the claw.

The dragon jerked Nath up, and slammed him onto the ground.
You shall pay for that!

The dragon’s neck reared back—maw full of teeth open—and struck like a serpent.

Fighting the pain, Nath leapt away.
Got to finish this!
he thought.

Everything hurt, from his head to his toes. The grey scaler was pummeling him like a cat pummels a rodent. Nath dug his claws into the dragon’s hide and climbed onto his back.

What are you doing, flea?

Nath jumped onto the grey scaler’s head and locked his hands on the horns.

The head shook like an angry bull’s.

Nath held on with all his strength. He was like a tick now.
I’m not coming off.

The dragon’s tail lashed out and beat his back, jarring him blow by blow.

“I’m not letting go, dragon!” Nath yelled.

The dragon’s wings expanded and flapped like gusty winds. Up into the air they went.

We’ll see about that!

Higher and higher they went, swooping, twisting, turning, and barrel rolling through the air.

Your arms will tire long before my wings will.

Nath’s arms already ached. It was one thing to fight something weaker than you, but quite another to fight an opponent much stronger.
What am I doing? I can’t hold on much longer.
He didn’t have a weapon. He had nothing but the horns of the dragon in his grip. Each was three feet long and could gore a stone golem to death.
That’s it!

Summoning all his strength and power, Nath pushed one horn and pulled another. Muscles bulged in his arms and neck. His dragon heart pounded like thunder.

What are you doing?
the grey scaler cried.
Stop it!

Nath heaved and hoed.

Snap!

A dragon horn broke off in his grip. Nath raised it over his head, and like a spear, he jammed it between the dragon’s neck and wing.

The dragon’s entire body shuddered, then stiffened. The wings went limp. The two of them spiraled toward the ground. At the last possible second, Nath leapt off.

Crash!

The dragon lay in a heap on the ground, chest still rising and falling, wings crushed underneath.

Nath forced himself up to his feet and staggered toward the dragon’s great belly.

Huge eyes rolled over on him.
You truly are the son of the King Dragon, but I don’t wish you well.
There was the rasping sound of fires stoking.

Nath plunged the horn into the dragon’s heart, and his fire died.

***

It was almost morning when Nath found his way to the camp where he’d left his friends. Everything hurt, but he lived. He eyed the dried blood on the dragon’s horn.
I can’t use this. It’s sacrilege.
He tossed the horn into the burning Jordak River.

With a sigh, he hobbled back to where he last stood with his friends.
Even the horses are gone.
He knelt and surveyed the land. The tracks of many people were on the ground. He got up, started walking, and tripped over something unseen.

“What in the name of Dragon Home is this?”

He reached out and felt a hard object. It was Brenwar’s chest, covered in the Cloth of Concealment.

He rubbed his aching head. Eyed the bridge.

“How in Narnum am I going to get across that bridge and find them?”