Fight And The Fury (Book 8) (11 page)

“So be it,” she said, then uttered a word.

The grey scalers disappeared into the sky. The sky raiders lifted from the earth and flew beyond the forest. The feline fury glided over the hills until it was gone, leaving Nath, Selene, and Inferno all alone on the plain at the top of the cliff.

I might not have an answer to this today, but I will have one soon enough.

“Are you satisfied?” Selene said, climbing onto Inferno’s back.

Nath nodded and said, “Five years of peace.”

“Assuming there’s no provocation,” she said. “Do you agree to this truce, Nath Dragon?”

“I do,” he said.

“Then come,” she said, “but there is one more thing. Your sword. You won’t be needing it anymore.”

Nath swallowed, eyed the mystic blade, and stuck it in the ground. He rubbed the dragon pommels before he walked away, saying, “Goodbye, old friend.”

***

Brenwar watched with exasperation. His friend, his charge, Nath Dragon, climbed onto the back of the great dragon with High Priestess Selene. Inferno’s wings spread, flapped, and lifted him into the air.

“No you don’t! No you don’t!” Brenwar roared. He snatched a stone from the pile and hurled it with all his might. Nath’s flame-red hair ducked it. The dragon lifted up, up, up, and out of sight. Brenwar’s heavy shoulders sagged. “How can he do this? How can he do this?”

“He did it so we could live,” Bayzog said, sighing.

“It’s bad, isn’t it, Bayzog?” Ben said.
Clatch. Snap. Clatch.
He locked Akron away. “But at least those dragons are gone. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t see my life getting short.” He rubbed his grizzled chin and eyed the sky. “I would have died for him though.”

“Now what?” Brenwar said. “Do we go after him? We must, shouldn’t we?”

“It’s up to him now,” Bayzog said, leaning on his staff and grimacing.

***

“Are you there? Are you there?” Hoven yelled inside the scorched cave.

Cough. Cough. Cough.

Hack. Hack.

“Yes,” a voice cried from behind a strange wall of stone. Hoven could also hear sobbing on the other side. “We’re here.” It was Shum’s voice. He was certain.

Hoven could barely make out the muffled voices, but one spoke fast, sobbing with distress.

“They’ve died. They’ve died. All of them.”

It was a gnome.

“We have to dig them out of there,” Hoven said to the other Roaming Rangers. He ran his fingers along the strange glob of stone that sealed off the small cave. The rock was charred and singed, and it had an odd aroma to it.
How did he get behind this?
Running his hands over the strange formation, it hit him.
On my!
The rocks were small bodies knotted together.
The gnomes!
In the dim light, his eyes adjusted and could make out their small bearded faces, frozen in pain and anguish.

A Roaming Ranger arrived with a pick and started to swing. Hoven barred his path and said, “We must wait.”

***

Eight small graves covered in wildflowers rested in the falling light. Snarggell spoke for more than an hour, with tears streaming from his eyes. Ben barely understood a word of it, but he did understand one thing the bald gnome said.

I live because they died. I wish it was the other way around. And all these years I didn’t think they much liked me. I will remember. I will do right by them.

***

It was evening. Bayzog, Ben, Brenwar, Snarggell, Shum, Hoven, and the rest of the Roaming Rangers had led the horses up the roads to the meadow at the top of the cliff. Nath’s sword, Fang, had been recovered, but the warm glow of a campfire did little to lift the gloom.

“You have no Nath Dragon to assist now, Shum,” Bayzog said. “Now what will you do?”

Shum stood with his back to the fire, staring beyond the dark.

“It is all unfortunate and unforeseen. I cannot answer that,” the Wilder Elf said. “But the battle is still going on. And there are plenty more that need saving. We’ll focus on that.” He turned and faced Bayzog from the other side of the fire. “And what will you do?”

He looked at Brenwar and Ben. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. I’ll probably start there.”

CHAPTER 23

“She’s persistent. I’ll say that,” Pilpin said to Devliik. The dwarves of Morgdon had kept their distance from Faylan the satyr and the Barnabus soldiers for the past several days. Pilpin wanted the falling of Faylan’s brother and the draykis to soak in. To let the little horned murderer feel their pain. “But I’m not sure there will be justice for this one, aside from that which comes from death.”

“Agreed,” Devliik said, sharpening his axe with a stone. “But the time has come to end this.” He dropped the stone, stood up, and sauntered into the trees.

The rest of the dwarves were spread out in the camp, sharpening weapons, feeding themselves, and stitching up each other’s wounds. Devliik had marched them nonstop for two days, winding through mountains and valleys, looking for something that he did not name.

Pilpin stretched his limbs and clawed at his beard. He wondered how the others were doing. Brenwar. Nath. And most of all, Gorlee.
Wherever he went is where we should be headed.
But that could be anywhere.

The dwarf called Wood Helm signaled to him.

“I suppose it’s time to go,” he said, gathering his gear. “On we march. On we march. On we march. Ho! Ho! Ho!”

In less than a minute, they were off.

Hours into the trek, the party of dwarves stopped on the bank of a stream that raced between the hills. A dragon’s roar sounded from above. Every thick neck bent up towards the sky.

“Fill yer flasks,” Devliik said, peering through the trees. “And get moving.”

A dark shadow darted through the clouds. Pilpin swore it had a bronze glimmer to it.

“It’s not looking for us,” Wood Helm said, “but if it does come looking, I’ve got something for it.” He shook his axe. “I’ll scale it like a flying fish, I will.”

Pilpin slapped him on the back and said, “You and I both will. And they say dragon skin makes for excellent armor.”

“Only one way to find out,” Wood Helm joked.

They filled their flasks, splashed through the stream, and up another hillside they went. Devliik’s path was difficult, but not impossible for an army to follow. And the dwarves were taking turns scouting the rear and making sure they were still being followed. As of yesterday, there were signs that Faylan’s army had slowed or backed. If anything, they came after the dwarves more determined than ever.

Huffing it up the slopes, Pilpin wondered if there wasn’t a better way to take Faylan out. They’d managed to trick her brother, Finlin, and the draykis and defeat them, so he thought there might be a better way to get at her. But Devliik seemed to be determined to try and set another trap, similar to the last. Pilpin was certain that she’d be too sharp for that.

We should just stage one grand ambush and end her.

He had shared those thoughts with Devliik, but the brown-bearded warrior shook his chin at him. “When the terrain favors us, we’ll get them,” he’d said. “Just keep those legs churning. We’ll march ‘em until their legs fall off.”

Pilpin obeyed. They all did. Stalwart. Unceasing. They’d bring Faylan to justice, but it would take more patience this time.

***

“Report!” Faylan said to one of her scouts. She stood on the edge of a stream. She and her army had been pushing through the brush for days, a tiresome task through rough terrain, and a handful of her soldiers had fallen.

A half-orc man in a buckskin vest and boots with a belt decorated in knives saluted.

“We gain,” he said, wiping the greasy hair from his eyes. “In a week, we’ll catch them.” He patted a knife on his belt. “Shorten their beards, we will.”

Faylan cocked an eyebrow.

“Did I ask for your commentary, orc?”

“No,” the half orc said with a bow of his head, “apologies, Commander.”

“Continue your charge and be away with you.” She shooed him with her hand. “And never try to amuse me with your jests.”

The half orc saluted and darted into the woods. Her soldiers, less than a hundred now, lined the stream, filling flasks and skins. Even in their heavy armor, they had moved well, but not well enough. Alone, she would have caught up with the dwarves within a day. This course simply took too long. She wanted vengeance, and she wanted it now.

“Azklan,” she said, rubbing a jaxite amulet the winged draykis had given her. “Come. Come to me.” The stone’s inner fires came to life, tingling the fingers on her hand. “Azklan, the time has come.”

A dragon-shaped shadow dropped out of the clouds that filled the valley and splashed into the stream, crushing two soldiers. The armored warriors scrambled up the banks, but no farther. The bronze dragon paid them no notice. Eyes focused on the amulet Faylan wore, it dragged its massive body though the waters until its head, crowned in horns, stopped just a few feet from her face.

Faylan’s heart raced. Her grubby fingers clutched the amulet. She swallowed, stepped forward, and placed her hand on Azklan’s snout. The scales were cool, its breath hot. Everything about it was magnificent.

“I want to see the dwarves die,” she said. “I want to see it with my own eyes.”

Azklan lowered his neck. She sensed his thoughts saying, “Climb on then.”

She stepped on his shoulder, climbed up, straddled his neck, and grabbed the harness configured around him. She yelled out to her soldiers and pointed up the mountains, “Meet us at the top.”

The bronze beast dashed down the stream, spread his wings, jumped up, and took off. Into the clouds she went, screaming with joy, soaring in circles. Her face lit up with an exhilaration the likes of which she’d never experienced before. She felt awesome. She felt invincible.

“I see them,” Azklan told her.

Her windblown face made a fierce grin.

“It’s time to kill them and avenge my brother.”

Folding back his wings, Azklan, a bronze bolt, a nightmare in the skies, crashed through the trees and landed in the midst of the dwarves. Fire, smoke and death erupted from his visage.

***

Never surprise a dwarf if you don’t want your skull cracked.

The saying was ancient. A warning to dwarven enemies. If you surprise them, then you had better kill them, else they unleash their wrath on you.

But that saying was made for orcs, lizardmen, gnolls, and bugbears. Not full-grown dragons.

Trees splintered, and the mountain shook when Faylan and the dragon dropped from the sky. Pilpin didn’t see it coming. None of them did. Head down on the trails, Wood Helm died first, smashed by the dragon’s scaled belly.

Flames roared from the dragon’s mouth, setting two dwarves on fire. The flaming dwarves charged with their axes before they fell. A spiked tail lashed out and skewered the fourth dwarf though his armor. Another strike sent the fifth dwarf through tree branches and out of sight.

Pilpin could see the satyr on the dragon’s neck. Screaming. Gloating. Pointing.

Dwarves drove their weapons into the beast. The dragon swept them aside with its tail.

Blood spilled.

Wood burned.

No one screamed except the satyr. In elation.

“Kill them! Kill them all!”

The bronze dragon loosed death upon them. No dwarf fled. They stood their ground and battled. Dwarven steel versus dragon scales. The hearty fighters were no match.

Pilpin slung his axe with all his force. It glanced off the dragon’s eyelid.

The dragon’s head snaked around, tongue licking out.

“Save that one!” Faylan yelled. “I want to kill the little one that taunted me myself!”

In one swipe, the dragon scooped Pilpin up and caged him with his claws. It fought on. Dwarves struck. Dwarves fell. Fire raged from the dragon’s mouth with raw heat.

Pilpin’s eyes stung and burned. Flames roared all around him. But nothing else. The battle cries of the dwarves were no more. 

No!

Pilpin thrashed in his prison, to no avail.

The dragon held him in front of the satyr Faylan. She stood on the dragon’s neck with her arms spread out, triumphant. A dagger glistened in her palm. She advanced with murder in her eyes.

“This is for you, little one!”

Behind her, a figure appeared. His beard smoked, and his armor was burning.

Pilpin’s eyes widened.
Devliik!

Faylan halted her advance and turned.

Devliik smote her right between the horns.

Chok!

The dagger fell from her grasp as she tumbled off the dragon’s neck.

Devliik!

The brown-bearded dwarf came at the dragon in a rush and struck between its claws. It let out a belly-full of fire and loosened its grip on Pilpin. Devliik snatched him by the neck and said, “Live to tell our tale! We have avenged!” He shoved Pilpin away, latched onto the dragon’s horns, and started chopping at its head.

Shaking with fury, the dragon spread its wings and leapt into the sky with Devliik still attached. It thrashed in the air until it vanished in the smoke and flames.

“I will, Devliik. I will,” Pilpin said, stumbling among the dead. He came across Faylan. Her face was as cruel in death as it had been in life. He took the amulet from her neck and dragged her corpse into the flames of the forest.

“It’s better than what you deserve.”

Over the next half day, he collected his brethren’s trinkets and built a pyre beneath their bodies. He said words, ancient and meaningful.

And then alone, Pilpin headed down the other side of the hill.

CHAPTER 24

Narnum. The Free City. There was a time when Nath hadn’t thought he’d see it again. Its great towers. Its wondrous sights. Now, he stood on the balcony of its tallest tower, overlooking everything, particularly the people of all the races that roamed the streets.

It was different now. All the races thrived, to include the likes of orcs, lizardmen and goblins. There were soldiers too. Thousands of them scattered on the streets and even more in camps set along the rivers. And there were dragons. Dozens perched on rooftops and others gliding through the sky.