Dragon Bones And Tombstones (Book 2) (14 page)

CHAPTER 28

It was a quiet trip down the mountain, through the forest and across where the small river went into the Shale Hills. I was frustrated.  My arm was still as black as coal, and saving the dragons had given me little comfort at all. I felt empty, left out, and as confused as ever. Even Brenwar seemed perplexed.

Dragons! I'd saved a Steel Dragon, and all the thanks he’d given me was advice to talk to Fang. The fact that he knew my father―well, I presumed, seeing how they shared a forge―bothered me most. Certainly, he could give me a little more advice now that the curse was lifted. And what did he need the Thunderstone for, anyway? It had helped him. Maybe it could have helped me, too. I punched a tree.

“What’s the matter with you?” Brenwar said.

I took a seat on a fallen log.

“All this work, and for what? My arm's no different than when I started.” I held it out. “See!”

Brenwar took a step closer, squinting.

“What are you doing?”

“Looking,” he said, “I haven’t really taken a good look at it.” He rubbed his chin. “I thought you said it was all black.”

“It is,” I said, eyeing my forearm and wrist. “What other color do you see?”

“White.”

I fanned out my clawed fingers and turned my hand in the sunlight, saying, “Where?”

“In the middle of your palm.”

“It’s just the sun’s reflection off the scales, I don’t see a th—”

My lips froze. My heart stopped.  A small group of scales in the middle of my palm had turned white.  A thrill went through me, like the first time I flew on my father’s great back as a child.

“Brenwar!” I exclaimed.  “Can it be I’m on the higher road of doing good things!”

He didn’t say anything, but he was smiling, in a dwarven way, a broad smirk, if anything.

I pumped my dragon fist in the air, jumped high, and shouted with joy! I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so good in my life. I was finally getting somewhere.

“Maybe it’s spreading, Brenwar?” I gave my hand a closer look. “My hand might be completely white by tomorrow, you think?”

He shrugged and said, “I hope so.” He slapped me on the back. “You’ve done well, Dragon. But I still think you’ve got many good deeds to go.”

I felt in my heart that saving the Blue Razor and helping the Steel Dragon got me over the hump.  I’d saved many dragons of late, but those two were different, the circumstances more tough. Perhaps I wasn’t challenging myself enough. I needed to investigate further the whereabouts of more dragons. I knew there were more out there.

“I’m coming home soon, Father!”

***

I had a spring in my step, and my wounded leg was less bothersome as we traversed the black shale. I had two things on my mind: my dragon arm and the Roving Rangers, Shum and Hoven.  It had only been a few days, but I wondered if they’d had any luck finding the winged ape. I wanted to track it. Fight it. Defeat it. I couldn’t explain why, but I did. It was just another menace that needed to die before someone else did.

“Where are you going?” Brenwar asked, wiping his sweating head on his forearm.

I pointed with my dragon arm toward the hill where we’d last seen the elves. I felt more comfortable using it now. A bad thing had turned good in my eyes, and I loved it all the more.

“Just checking on those—”

“No! You need to focus on the dragons. The
elves can solve their own problems, and the men can as well. Come now, I thirst for Dwarven Ale.”

“But—”

“Come!” Brenwar said, marching off with determination.

I didn’t have to follow him, and he didn’t have to follow me
―unless my father had told him to, but Brenwar never said. I eyed the hill where the elves were holed up and some of their traps were set. I was dying to see them again. I had never seen elves like that. Pot bellies on elves. Hah! Who’d have imagined such a thing?

“Alright,” I said, heading after Brenwar. We walked on mile after mile until the sun began to set in our sight. “You hungry? I could use some good meat about now.”

“I’ll find a spot and start a fire.”

I unslung Akron.

Snap. Clatch. Snap.

It was ready

“I’ll fetch the meat.”

I hadn’t made it a mile from camp when I heard a muffled cry. A struggle was ahead, and without thinking, I rushed for the danger. Darting in and out of the trees like the swiftest of deer, I emerged in a clearing. Shum and Hoven, the Wilder elves, were interlocked in battle with the winged ape. It was hairy and blue-black with a slight blue sheen, roaring into the face of Shum, its mighty long fingers wrapped around the neck of another ranger I’d not seen before.

Twang!

My first arrow hit it square in the back, and it let out a roar.

It turned.

I reloaded.

Brawny muscles, black claws and dripping fangs charged me, faster than the fastest bull I’d ever seen.

Twang!

It ducked.

But my aim was low, intentionally, and the arrow exploded into its shoulder.

The winged-ape crashed to the ground.

I ripped out Fang and charged.

“Dragon! Dragon!”

I couldn’t let the evil beast hurt or kill another thing. I chopped at its stomach.

It rolled away, bounced up, and swatted me in the face. It was fast. Like a striking cobra.

I stabbed.

It turned.

I slashed, grazing its arm. 

It swung its big paw at me, nails nicking my face.

I countered and clipped its legs, drawing blood.

It backed away.

“Come on,” I said, taunting it with Fang’s glowing blade. I was ready for it. I was ready for anything.

It eyed me, two red coals gleaming under its heavy brow. It was smart, thinking about its next move. But I was ready. 

“You heard me! Come on, Monster!”

It pounded its chest, lowered its shoulders, stretched out its mighty thewed arms, ready to scoop me up, and charged.

It came.

I swung.

It leapt high in the air and left me gawping before dropping on me like a load of stones. The eight hundred pound ape drove me hard into the ground.

Fang fell from my grasp.

It pinned my neck to the ground and roared in my face. It was strong, like oxen.

I kicked its stomach, twisted my wrist free, then clawed at its eyes. 

It punched and punched me like a boxer.
I found this odd, even in the midst of my face being punched in. It was bigger, stronger, but it was a beast; I was a dragon.

I drew back and punched it in the nose with my fist. I swore I heard it laughing as it shrugged it off and hit me back. Stars exploded in my eyes. I was getting beaten like a dusty rug.

A Wilder Elf jumped on its back, which one I couldn’t tell.

With one arm, the winged ape flung him away.

I pulled my knees to my chest and kicked it in the stomach with all I had. To my surprise, it tumbled to the ground. Gasping, I rolled left and grabbed my sword.

Two more elves dove at the winged ape. They both fought hard before it slung them off like water. Another pair, from where they came I don’t know, threw a large net at the beast. The net sailed beneath its feet as it jumped high in the air.  How many of these elves were there, anyway?

I saw my chance. The ape had the elves in sight, not me. I lowered my sword, rushed in, and stabbed at its belly. It twisted a split second before I got there, but I struck a blow. The beast let out an odd cry, almost elvish, as its massive shoulders dipped to the ground. I had it where I wanted it now. Fang gleamed as I rose him above my head for the final strike.

“No!” someone screamed.

A Roving Ranger slammed into me, knocking me to the ground. Another jumped on top of me, followed by another.

“What are you doing!” I screamed at them.

The winged ape groaned, holding its wounded side as it lifted its chin to the sky. Its black wings fanned out, flapped a few times, lifting it into the air, above the tree lines and out of sight.

“Get off of me!” I said, kicking one of the elves in the gut. I was mad now. Why did the elves mess things up?

“Nath Dragon!” one of the rangers said, extending his hand to me.  It was Shum. “We do not want him dead! We want him alive, and you’ve fouled things up.”

“Fouled things up?  Are you jesting?  It was beating the tar out of all of you.  Why wouldn’t you want that beast dead, anyway? It’s a killer!” I shoved his hand away.

“It’s our king,” Shum said, glumly.

“Your what?” I said, eyeing the others. 

There were five of them now. One just as tall and heavy as the other.

“Our king, Sansla Lybor.”

“Let me guess...” I hated to say it, but I did “…he’s cursed.”

***

Not long after that, Brenwar arrived, huffing and puffing.  Shum and Hoven had finished the tale of their cursed king. I felt for them. For more than a decade, they’d tried to trap him, and this was as close as they’d been in a while. I wasn’t sure if I’d messed things up or not, but I only meant well. But as they left, I sensed their disappointment.

Shum said to me as he left, “You stick to your own, Nath Dragon. We’ll stick to ours. And remember, Sansla Lybor is little more than a shadow of his glorious self now, but the curse within him is vengeful. He’ll not forget that wound you gave him, but perhaps we’ll find him before he finds you. Watch the skies. Farewell.”

One thing was for certain: there were too many curses in this world! I had enough of my own problems to worry about. I eyed the white spot on my hand. It was a start. A dozen dragons freed, dozens more to go.  One dragon at a time, Nath Dragon, one at a time.

“Come on, Brenwar. I think I’m ready for the dwarven home, Morgdon, for now.”

Note from the Author

Thank you for reading! I am grateful. 

I hope you like this series and will continue.  As I have stated before, my goal is to write a series that is a lot of fun, not too complicated, and appropriate for all ages. I especially want to write books that are easy for new readers to jump right into. I hope I’ve achieved that.

I wanted to take a moment to talk about the winged-ape. I was having trouble coming up with a monster in that scene in the stream when I thought of the winged-ape.  I’m certain that many fantasy books have winged-apes, but this one popped into my memory banks from a favorite story of mine, Queen of the Black Coast. This is a Conan the Barbarian story, and it’s one of my favorites. Robert E. Howard, the founder of Sword and Sorcery and creator of Conan, is my favorite fantasy writer. If I had never read Conan as a kid, I’m pretty sure I never would have started writing books. So, the winged-ape I thought was a nice little homage to him. Plus, if any die-hard Conan fans were to read this story, I wouldn’t want them to think that I copied Howard.

All that said, I hope you’ll continue to read this series, and if you have time, I’d greatly appreciate it if you would leave an honest review wherever you buy or discuss books online.  And don’t forget to check out my other books too. Again, Thank you!

Do good always,

Craig Halloran

About the Author

Craig Halloran resides with his family outside of his hometown of Charleston, West Virginia. When he isn’t entertaining mankind, he is seeking adventure, working out, or watching sports. To learn more about him, go to: 
www.thedarkslayer.com

Other works by the author

The Darkslayer: Wrath of the Royals (Book 1)

The Darkslayer: Blades in the Night (Book 2)

The Darkslayer: Underling Revenge (Book 3)

The Darkslayer: Danger and the Druid (Book 4)

The Darkslayer: Outrage in the Outlands (Book 5)

The Chronicles of Dragon: The Hero, The Sword and The Dragons (Book 1)

The Chronicles of Dragon: Dragon Bones and Tombstones (Book 2)

Zombie Day Care: Impact Series: Book 1

Zombie Rehab: Impact Series: Book 2

Jerk of All Trades: It’s not him; it’s them

In the works by the author

The Darkslayer (Book
6)

The Chronicles of Dragon (Book 3)

You can learn more about The Darkslayer and my other books at:

Facebook – The Darkslayer Report by Craig

Twitter – Craig Halloran