Flight of the Dragon (The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 5 of 10) (Tail of the Dragon) (8 page)

Rerry, get up!

But Scar said, “Stay put, fledgling.”

Rerry rested back on his elbows. “I underestimated you.”

“Oh, that’s an understatement.” Scar tossed the elven rope to Rerry. “Now we get to see how well you fare on an ever-so-long march back to Elome. No food. No water. Just one long stiff march with a needle at your back.”

Rerry’s chin fell to his chest. After all that hard work, he was right back where he’d started. A captive. A failure. He wanted to scream. He picked up the rope and said, “So what do you want me to do, bind myself?”

“No, save it for when your brother returns at the hands of my men. They’ll have him wrapped up in no time, I’m certain.” Scar admired his sword. “It really is a fine piece of weaponry, and yes, it is enchanted. All of the captains of the guard receive blessed weapons when they survive the test and make the rank. I even helped to forge it myself. Me, the smith, and a pair of lovely elven enchantresses.” His fingers caressed the blade’s edge. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I ever lost it. And the thought of your kind even touching it makes me want to wash it.” His face soured.

“What is your problem with me? I may not be a full-bred elf, but you act like I’m an orc!”

Without looking at Rerry, Scar cut the blade through the air a few times. “You might be.”

Rerry’s lips tightened. He glared at Scar. The elves were possibly the most sophisticated race in Nalzambor, but their snobbery was often overbearing. He and Samaz hadn’t done anything wrong, and his parents hadn’t either, aside from love each other. His eyes found the sword Samaz had been carrying. His brother had dropped it before he went to pursue the other elves.

Every little bit makes him faster, and he doesn’t know how to use a sword anyway.

Scar caught him looking at the sword and said with a confident air, “Go ahead. You say you’re a swordsman, pick it up.”

“Why, so you can try to kill me?”

“Oh, there won’t be any ‘try’ in it. If I want to kill you, I will. But that’s not my plan. I was just planning to teach you a few lessons.” Scar flexed the rapier behind his shoulders. The steel bent a little between his hands. “This blade won’t break. It’s like a living thing in my hands.”

Rerry crawled over to the sword on the ground but didn’t pick it up. He considered himself a fine swordsman, but the truth was he was self-instructed for the most part, though he had spent some time with the legionnaires. “You sound like someone who relies on his sword more than he does his own skill.”

“Oh, it took ample skill and the sword to kill a giant with one blow. Just imagine what I could do to you.”

Rerry picked the elven longsword up and stood.

Scar’s green eye brightened. The patch over his left eye darkened. “You really do have the fire of a fool in you, don’t you.”

Eyeing the man’s patch, Rerry said, “And you have a blind spot.”

Scar lifted up his eye patch, revealing a solid milky white eye. “Do you know what blinded me, boy?”

“I couldn’t care less.” Rerry tested the heft of the longsword. The fine elven steel was well balanced, but it was still heavier than the rapier Scar carried. “So, are we going to spar or not?”

Scar flipped his eye patch away. It left his appearance unsettling. Menacing. “A blade caught me, in a sparring match such as this. They told me my career as a soldier was over. They washed me out of the ranks. But I practiced and practiced and practiced until I overcame my disadvantage. I climbed back up the ranks.” He flicked the blade around in a twirl of blinking light. “I defeated my own master.”

Rerry swallowed. There was truth in Scar’s words. He didn’t doubt a single syllable. Rerry was the bigger of the two, looking down at the smaller elven man whose presence yet seemed as big as his own. A sparring match seemed impractical, but his pride wanted to take a shot at the cocky elven captain.

Just one mark. I’ll give him a scar he’ll remember.

“I tell you what, Scar, let’s fight for blood. If I nick you three times, you have to leave us be.”

Scar huffed. “I can’t do that. An elf releasing a prisoner? Shame myself? If I lose you, I have to suffer the fate they had in store for you, and I’d rather not know what it is.”

“You sound like you fear you might lose.”

“Hardly. I’m just giving you an education. I should have known it wouldn’t have been a custom you were aware of, seeing how horrible a captor you are.”

“Well, if I win, you can be my indentured servant. At least then you could be on the right side of things.”

“I’m on the right side when I follow orders.” Scar eyed his sword’s keen edge. “And what are you offering me when you lose? Oh, that’s right, you have nothing to offer. But maybe, just maybe, you could give me one of those eyes of yours.”

“That’s just sick.”

“That’s life with an edge. So, do you want to spar, surrender, or just fight? The truth is, Rerry, your only chance to escape and help your mother is to beat me. What are you willing to lose to save your mother?”

Rerry readied his sword. “Everything.”

“It sounds like we have a fight then.” Scar’s feet twisted in the dirt. He lowered himself into a swordsman’s stance and waved Rerry over. “Let the steel dance.”

Rerry rushed in swinging. He delivered hard, fast blows.

Scar parried and shifted. Metal smacked on metal. Scar batted Rerry’s sword from his hand and cut his forearm open.

Rerry jumped away, holding his bleeding arm.

“It was a fine attack. Fast. Powerful.” Scar took out a cloth and wiped the blood from his sword. “But you lack refinement. Finesse.” With the tip of his rapier, he flipped the fallen longsword up into Rerry’s hands by its crossguard. “This time, don’t try to kill me. Just use what you know and fight.”

Grimacing and with a flutter in his ear, Rerry poised his sword. Staring Scar right in the elf’s bad eye, he said, “So be it then.”

“That’s an awful lot of giants,” Selene said to Grahleyna. “And the wurmers. Their numbers will only grow. You need to strike fast if you’re going to strike at all. Scatter those forces before their numbers become even stronger.”

“No army has ever penetrated Dragon Home. No army ever will.”

“I don’t mean any disrespect,” Selene said. “But have the dragons ever had to fend off an army so big?”

“Selene, we’ll stay on the defensive and seal all the entrances. But I’m not going to send the dragons out to attack. Not without Balzurth or Nath.” Grahleyna stood out on the very edge of the mountain. The wind tore at her elegant robes. Hair streaming in the wind, she said, “I’m not willing to risk the dragons in a fight right now. Not if I don’t have to. Balzurth is King. Nath is the prince. The battle is up to them. But in their stead, I’ll certainly do what must be done in defense. Between now and then, I need you to find them.”

“I’d be glad to track them down, but the search would go quicker with wings beneath me.”

“Getting out of here will be easier without them.” Grahleyna’s eyes scanned the horizon.

Wurmers flocked through the air like birds. Selene couldn’t count them by the hundreds. The insect-like dragons made an evil humming sound, swarming like locusts. They weren’t the biggest dragons—only the size of large dogs or small horses—but there were so many it didn’t matter.

“Couldn’t you send dragons out to search?”

“I could send a flight of dragons out and hope some of them squeezed through the ranks of those foul things, but I’ve made my decision. No dragons are going out. There are some in Dragon Home, Selene, but not many. I have to wait things out. It won’t be easy.”

Selene found it hard to breathe. A dreadful feeling overcame her. Her failures haunted her. She was part of the reason the wurmers thrived, and she hadn’t yet figured out how to stop them. A strong part of her wanted to resume that quest. “If the dragons can’t leave, how am I supposed to get out of here?”

“There are other methods.” Grahleyna turned.

Something caught Selene’s eye: a flock of small dragons whose wings beat with rapid fury. “Oh my!”

They were young crimson dynamos, cinnamon scaled and very deadly. The three of them formed a wedge. The one in the rear fought to keep up, with its damaged wing. The dragons must have slipped through the wurmer ranks undetected.

But the wurmers caught the burst of wings and scales beating through the sky. A sea of the evil creatures let out a shrill sound, splitting the air. They gave pursuit. And closed in fast.

Crimson dynamo dragons were not known for their speed. They were a breed strong in power. And this group was young.

“Come to me, brothers and sisters, come to me!” Grahleyna cried out. Her body shimmered. She was transforming into her dragon self.

Selene caught her by the arm. “No, you can’t go out there. It’s just what they want. We can’t lose you, Grahleyna.”

In a voice wroth with anger, Grahleyna yelled at Selene, “Unhand me!” With eyes like fire, she jerked her arm away. Wings sprouted from her back.

But Selene knew it was too late. Just as she lifted her gaze into the distance, the wurmers caught up with the young crimson dragons. Swarmed the three of them. Claws and teeth flashed. Fire exploded in the sky. Wurmers crackled and sizzled, but not enough of them. The fires of the young dynamos faded. The wurmers latched onto them and tore them to shreds.

Grahleyna screamed, “Nooooooooooooooooooo!”

Selene held her back by the waist. It was difficult.

Suddenly the sky darkened. Wurmers were everywhere, blanketing the sky like clouds.

“We must get back inside!” Selene felt Grahleyna sag in her arms.

The three young dynamos’ broken bodies hung from the jaws of the wurmers, which flew away in triumph and dropped the dead dragons into the waiting arms of the giants.

Above, the wurmers circled in a taunting formation, hundreds of them all at once. The hum they made was deafening.

“We must go inside, Grahleyna, we must!” Selene urged. “Come. They need you inside.”

Wurmers landed on the peaks of Dragon Home.

Selene’s own blood stirred. An enemy dragon landing on the peaks of Dragon Home was like an orc planting an orcen flag in Morgdon. She was appalled. Finally leading the reluctant Grahleyna back inside, she said, “We’re going to end them, my queen. We’re going to end them!”

But how?

Nath smacked the whistle away from the man’s lips before he had time to blow. The metal whistle spun around the man’s neck and whacked him in the side of the head.

“Ow!” The man reached up to rub his temple.

Brenwar knocked the man down to his knees and put him in a chokehold.

“Urk!”

Nath peeled the man’s sword from his fingers. Seeing the man’s eyes bulge from their sockets, Nath said to Brenwar, “Ease off a bit. Let’s at least question the assassin.”

Brenwar let off just enough so the magistrate could manage to speak.

He sucked for air and said, “I’m not an assassin. I’m here to help.”

Holding the man’s own sword up, Nath flicked the metal with his claw.

Ting.

“With this?”

“I’m a legionnaire. What did you expect? I’m not going out into the dark unable to defend myself.” The magistrate coughed. His sagging jaws shook from the effort. “Please, let me breathe some more. At my age, breathing’s hard enough as it is.”

Nath took a careful look at the man. His wavy hair was grey, his muscles were softer than a legionnaire’s, and his wrinkly skin had age spots all over. He must have been sixty, maybe older. But Nath could tell he used to be iron strong. He gave Brenwar a nod.

The dwarf released the magistrate.

He fell onto his hands and knees, wheezing. “Sorry, I’m trying to keep it quiet. I guess I should have known better than to try and sneak up on the likes of you two.” He looked up into Nath’s face. “My, it really is you.”

“Pardon me?”

The man’s focus shifted between Nath and Brenwar. Hands up, he said, “Nath Dragon and Brenwar Bolderguild. In my town.” His voice rose. He covered his mouth. “Sorry, I need to keep it down. Too many light sleepers around here.” He extended his hand. “It’s an honor.”

Nath shook the man’s hand.

Many of the man’s fingers were missing, but he still had a strong grip and shook vigorously.

Nath asked, “You know us?”

“Well, we’ve never met before, but you’d be hard to miss given the description. The hair and eyes alone are a dead giveaway, even in the dimness. Both of you. The rest wouldn’t know it so much, but I do. I’ve been around.”

“You say you’re a legionnaire?” Nath said.

“I am.” He pointed at his sword.

Nath noted the eagle image crafted into the pommel. He handed it to the man. “A fine piece of steel.”

“It served me well against the throngs of Barnabus, but my steel’s not as quick as it used to be. And my joints burn like fire if I move too fast—and when it rains.” He wiped the rain from his face. “I’m Timothy. Call me Tim.” He shook hands with Brenwar. “Gah! What happened to your fingers?”

“I got hungry.”

Tim looked at Nath with bewilderment.

Nath said, “It’s a long story, Tim. Now, you say you came to warn us about something.”

Tearing his glance from Brenwar’s skeleton hand, Tim said, “That fellow you talked to on the porch, that’s Malden. He’s a rat. I tried to talk him out of doing what he’s about to do, but it won’t stick.”

“What’s he going to do?” Brenwar grumbled.

“The nuurg oversee this town and many like it. They have quarters a few miles away. It’s a sad situation, but we survive by feeding them.” Tim sheathed his sword with a click. “Well, a fair part of this town worships them. They turn my stomach. It’s as if people’s minds are turned inside out. Well, the nuurg demand that if any stranger passes through, we let them know about it. I tried to convince Malden to let you be. We have plenty of people pass who are hungry. He agreed, but he’s a liar. He’ll slip out of here at first light, if not tonight.”

Tim peeked down the alley between the plank wood buildings. “He doesn’t like me much. He was magistrate before I was, until the people spoke. You can bet your boots he’ll have those giant fiends on their giant horses riding after you in no time.” He rubbed his eyes. “And I thought I’d seen all there was to see in the war on Barnabus. Now we have giant orcs. Giant trolls. Giant ogres. Giant everything.”

“Thanks, Tim,” said Nath. It was good to know the good people could still conquer their fears and do the right thing. Tim, an old soldier, was bound by that. Whether he was still a soldier or not, he had a sense of duty, the duty to take care of his people. It was clear Tim was ever willing to risk his life to do that. “Tim, have you heard the saying ‘Sometimes the greatest battles are won from the smallest victories’?”

“Wars are won one battle at a time.” Tim’s eyes gleamed. “What are you getting at?”

“I think it’s time for the nuurg to have a little surprise.”

“Really? There’s an awful lot of them.”

“How many?” Brenwar asked.

“Ten nearby. They scour the towns in pairs.” Tim took a breath. “Boy, my blood’s churning. I’m ready to stick it to them.”

“I don’t want your departure to rouse suspicion. Just tell us where they are.” Nath patted Tim’s shoulder. “We’ll do the rest.”

“But I can help.”

“You could really help by grabbing us some food,” Brenwar said. “I can’t sneak through the woods with my belly growling.”

“That wasn’t a growl I heard, more like a roar.” Tim shrugged. “I’ll do it.”

Somewhere in the town, a horse whinnied.

“Did you hear that?” said Nath.

“I did. Come on.” Tim led them toward the eastern face of the town and huddled behind the split fence of a barn. The man, Malden, led a horse out of one of the stables and outside. Once he got out of earshot, he mounted the horse and trotted away. “Yep. Malden the overgrown rattle snake is going to report to the nuurg.”

“How long will it take them to get here?”

“As fast as those big monsters move? They’ll be here in an hour, and you’ll hear them coming a mile away.”

“Good,” Brenwar said, “That gives us plenty of time to eat then.” He patted his belly and said to Tim. “Now go fetch food.”