Return of the Dragon (The Dragon's Champion Book 6) (27 page)

Lepkin offered a half smile and then he pointed to the
house. “If you have some time, we have food if you are hungry.”

Aparen shook his head. “I will begin going south. When
I see the orcs, I will fight with them. I have enough food for what I need.”

“Very well,” Lepkin said. Master Lepkin clapped a hand
onto Aparen’s shoulder and nodded at the young man. “I wish you the very best
of luck,” he said. “If you get into trouble, then retreat northward. We will be
ready to fight, so do not think you must do this on your own.”

Aparen nodded and then he vanished with such blinding
speed that Lepkin thought he had disappeared. It took Master Lepkin several
seconds to realize that Aparen had not actually disappeared. He was traveling
exceedingly fast through the air on a small silver cloud toward the south.
Master Lepkin looked back to the house and thought of his wife and child. He
turned and made haste to set the new orders.

It was not easy to convince Commander
Nials,
or Al for that matter. The two officers could not
believe Lepkin’s account of what happened, nor could they believe that Tu’luh
had an army of zombies or had been resurrected from the dead. Al turned to
Marlin and asked the prelate whether there was any way he could validate
Aparen’s story. Marlin, said that unless he could see the young man while he
spoke, there was no way for him to know the truth of it.

In the end, it was lady Dimwater who convinced them
all. She told them of her dealings with Njar years ago and explained that
though he was not a well-known individual, he most definitely had the Middle
Kingdom’s best interest at heart. She convinced them that the mere mention of
Njar’s name was enough to show her that Aparen was in fact telling the truth.
None of them would argue with her.

After the orders were set, soldiers went to work with
haste. Whatever supplies they could fit in the wagons, they did. When they had
no more wagons to fill, they filled backpacks and rucksacks. It took them two
days to be fully prepared for the journey. As soon as everything had been
collected and prepared they marched north.

After spending a night traveling and meditating,
Aparen felt ready to do battle with the army. He wasn’t entirely sure he could
unlock the power of his Sahale blood, but he felt as ready as he could
given
the fact that he could already sense the army approaching.
He stalked through the burnt forest, using his new skills and powers to feel
the enemy army before his natural eyes could see them.

Aparen encountered the orcish army just two miles
north of Ten Forts. He had never before seen such a large force in all of his
life. By comparison, it made the battle at Lokton manor seem childish to him.
There were easily twelve, or possibly fifteen-thousand troops marching directly
toward him. He scanned the entire area, but saw no sign of the dragon. He knew
there was only one thing he could do to draw the dragon out. He rose into the
air, shielding himself with an invisibility spell, so he could gain a better
vantage point over the enemy army.

He delved into his mind, focusing on the rune Njar had
shown him. Thundering boots marched below him as he levitated invisible in the
air above the army. The fire built within his chest again, as it had during the
night meditations. The rune glowed brightly in his mind, and then it began to
chime sharply. The melody it played called to Aparen’s soul. He wasn’t sure if
he was unlocking the rune, or if it was unlocking him.

A good portion of the army had already passed under
him when the transformation occurred. The transformation was far more painful
than anything he had ever experienced while transforming into his shadowfiend
form. His body grew to such immense proportions that he felt as if he had been
ripped apart and rebuilt as a living mountain of granite. He could feel the
fire burning within his chest grow stronger and hotter, waiting to be unleashed
on the enemy army.

His arms became thick forelegs tipped with sharp
talons and covered in large, black scales. Four horns grew from his head, two
on each side that curled upward into sharp points. A ridge of bone formed over
his snout and sprouted smaller, pointy horns. His tail grew long and slender,
with a large, spiked ball on the end of it. His hind legs were thick with
muscle, but also had horns poking out over the back of the leg, like dew claws
made of black spears. He roared and unleashed a thick column of green fire.

His vision acuity was heightened so that he could see
not only the physical aspects of each individual before him, but he could sense
their very spirits. It was this that surprised him most, not because he could
see their spirits but because their spirits were gray. Whether they were the
living slaves or the resurrected zombies, they all looked the same. Their
spirits were the color of ash. In that moment he knew he was not doing battle
with any living creature in the sense that he understood. He was fighting
animated shells, golems, and abominations. With a mighty roar he swooped down
and unleashed his wave of fire, bathing the ashen snow-covered ground in a
flood of flame. As had happened in Pinkt’Hu no one screamed or cried out in
pain.

However, this army was not without reaction. Archers
reached for their bows and unleashed a flurry of arrows into the sky, while
spearman from below threw their spears and javelins and the sword men ran and
spread out to avoid the flame. As before, Aparen called upon his magic,
creating a shield around
himself
that devoured any
arrow or missile coming toward him. There was nothing the army of zombies could
do. Time after time he swooped in like a great raptor, burning the zombies with
fire and using his tail spikes to destroy others. His magic was so powerful
that none of them came close to striking his body.

Aparen dove down, swooping low and gliding upon his
jet black wings just out of reach of the enemy spears. He spewed out his green
flame and devoured hundreds in a single attack. The mindless soldiers were not
difficult at all to fight. In his dragon form, Aparen likened it to stomping on
an ant hill and then using a torch to demolish the angry little pests. With
this in mind, and the fact that he had never before had any physical power that
came close to what he now felt, he decided to experiment.

He dropped down after the second swoop with his fire.
He crushed thirty warriors beneath his body and let them test their swords and
spears against him. The weapons glanced off his scales harmlessly. Aparen
roared in delight and swung his tail around his right side. Dozens of soldiers
were caught by the move. Some were crushed while others were flung far away.
Several bodies were impaled upon his spikes, but with his strength the extra
weight didn’t seem to slow his attacks at all.

Next he shot out with his claws. He had of course used
claws before in his shadowfiend form, but these were very different. Each talon
was the diameter of a small tree, and their points rivaled the sharpness of any
javelin or spear he had ever seen. He punctured through armor and skewered
enemies effortlessly. Aparen curled his right fingers into a massive fist and
then brought it down like a great boulder upon seven warriors. Their bodies
squished and gushed beneath his might.

He launched into the air again, blasting fire over the
army and using each of his appendages as best he could to accelerate the
battle’s pace.

A goarg rider charged him once and he reflexively
snapped down with his fangs, biting rider and beast in half. The blood rushed
into his mouth. Aparen spat the bodies out in disgust, but he had not found the
blood itself to have a bad taste. Rather, it was the idea of eating such
creatures that had compelled him to spit them out.

As the battle raged on for the space of several hours,
he saw reinforcements marching up from the south.

There were another five or six thousand souls, he
couldn’t be sure exactly how many. It didn’t matter. He tore into them as he
had the first fifteen-thousand. By the time the afternoon had finished the
field was covered in bodies and limbs. Aparen had destroyed twenty-thousand
troops without receiving a single scratch. He moved on toward the south after
he had completed his attack and then he saw Tu’luh the Red. The mighty dragon
was massive, much larger than Aparen was in his dragon form.

“Bow before your new master, wyrm!” Tu’luh roared.

Aparen felt the sudden, cold grip of terror seize his
spine. He froze on the ground, standing and staring at the mighty dragon as it
soared closer with blinding speed.

“Bow to me, or face my wrath!” The beast roared,
emitting a column of fire and sparks.

That is when Aparen saw the she-elf upon Tu’luh’s
back. A bright yellow amulet hung from her neck, and he knew that was the power
source. He made his way toward Tu’luh, unleashing fireballs, lightning bolts,
and even great spears formed of ice in the air, but none of them struck their
mark. Tu’luh was too powerful. He deftly dodged, swooped, and dove under each
and every missile sent toward him and then he fired back a massive sphere of
terrible fire. Aparen was not deterred by the fire. Instead he decided to fly
directly toward it. After all, his magical shield had stopped every other
attack that day. He paid the fireball no mind, barreling forward on a direct
collision course, until he came within range for his magical barrier to
dissipate the fiery missile.  Instead of doing so, the fireball broke
through his magical shield with an audible crash and a spray of sparks. Aparen
was forced to take action quickly, diving down toward the ground in such a
reckless manner that he actually crashed into the snow-covered earth below. As
quickly as he had reacted, the fireball still grazed his tail. He wasn’t
injured, but he was shaken by the fact that the fire had managed to penetrate
his magical shield.

The great silver dragon flew toward him, and Aparen
knew he was outmatched. He looked quickly around the ground and saw that the
entire army had been destroyed. He wasn’t sure how long it would take, but he
knew that Tu’luh would have to stop marching north in order to resurrect his
army. So, in a moment of strategizing, Aparen decided to flee to the north as
quickly as possible. Better to live another day and delay the enemy, than to
die on this day. Perhaps if he continued to kill Tu’luh’s army, forcing the
enemy dragon to slow his pace in order to stop and resurrect his army each and
every day, that would give Erik enough time to enter the fight and break the
spell.

Aparen reverted into his human form, and then cast a
very powerful transportation spell that sped him through the air at such
blinding speeds that even Tu’luh the Red could not follow him. He retreated out
toward the east, hoping that on the morrow he could flank the enemy. Even so,
the army was many, many days behind Lepkin’s army. Aparen only had to buy them
another few days in order to win the battle.

After the abrupt disappearance of the strange dragon,
Tu’luh surveyed the field of wreckage that only that morning had been a
formidable army. Cursing the sudden appearance of a Sahale with powerful magic
he called Salarion to him. He took the amulet from her and began the task of
resurrecting his fallen army. He was chagrined to find that the dragon’s fire
had managed to damage some of his forces beyond the possibility of
resurrection. So long as something remained of the body, it could be restored,
but ashes were of no use to him.  It took until the sun had fallen behind
the horizon to complete the task of reclaiming his army from the muck and ash
of the battlefield. When they were again prepared, he marched them through the
night, with Salarion riding upon his back. The next morning, the strange dragon
appeared again and attacked Tu’luh’s army. This time, Tu’luh did not let the
strange dragon kill so many of his soldiers. Tu’luh flew into the sky and
attacked the smaller dragon. Lightning bolts and fireballs crashed down around
Tu’luh, but the dragon did not stop. He broke through the young
dragon’s
magic and pressed the attack, forcing the young
dragon to flee.

Over the next several days, this pattern repeated
itself. Tu’luh would circle around the army patrolling it and protecting it
from the young dragon. The young dragon would appear, using magic and curses in
order to destroy as many orcs and humans as he could.

Tu’luh had no chance to rest until he finally managed
to escort his army into Stonebrook. There, the dragon was able to command his
troops to take up proper defensive positions. They built ballista launchers
from the wreckage of old catapults. They were also able to find more suitable
armor to protect against a dragon.

Tu’luh took particular pleasure in pillaging
Tillamon’s house. He had heard of the dragon hunter many times, and relished
the feeling of satisfaction as his own troops carried out the very weapons and
armor that would have been used against dragons such as himself in order to
prepare for the meddling, black dragon. This satisfaction was only heightened
when Tu’luh burned the house to ashes in a single breath.

To his dismay, the black dragon did not approach
Stonebrook. Tu’luh spent two days waiting for him to return, but the black dragon
was nowhere to be seen.

The great dragon summoned Salarion to him on the third
day. There was no need for words, her mind and will were connected to his,
entwined with his desires. Still, she retained her body and abilities, which
was more than useful. Tu’luh equipped her with a set of Telarian steel armor to
protect her body from the black dragon’s attacks. Without Gilifan, Salarion was
the only talented magic user he had in his army. The other zombies were
essentially walking swords.

After she was dressed and equipped to his
satisfaction, Tu’luh compelled her to use her magic on him. His form shifted
and changed. His body became pressed, squeezed from all sides, until he was no
bigger than a large orc. His wings flattened to his body. His bones compressed.
His fangs shortened into the characteristic orcish tusks. His silvery scale
took on the appearance of a pale green skin. When the spell was complete, even
he was almost fooled by the disguise. He now looked no different than any other
orc in the army.

Next he compelled one of the orcs to come near.
Salarion weaved a spell over him and transformed him into the exact image of
Tu’luh’s new body. The orc took up no more space than he had before in reality,
but he now looked as large as Tu’luh had. Great silvery scales shone brightly
in the sun, and he even breathed with the low, lumbering sounds that a dragon
did. Soft tendrils of smoke snaked out from the illusionary nostrils and Tu’luh
grinned.

He willed half of his army to stay with the fake
dragon, including Salarion. The other half he commanded to march with him to
the north. If the black dragon would not come to him, then he would hunt it
down and flush it out of hiding.

The trap worked perfectly.

The following day as Tu’luh marched with the army northward,
the young dragon appeared from the west just before sundown. The black scales
reflected the last rays of the sun as it swooped down to attack. The young,
four-horned dragon tore into the army laying waste to hundreds at a time.
Tu’luh bode his time, making sure that the black dragon didn’t suspect anything
before he sprang into action. As the young dragon swooped down for a strike,
Tu’luh leapt into the air and his real form became known just as he collided
with the young dragon. He ripped at the young dragon clawing at his wing with
his right foreleg and biting at the dragon’s neck. His spiked tail whirled
around fast and slammed into the young dragon’s hindquarters. The black dragon
fought back with all of his might, throwing spells and magic and curses at
Tu’luh in rapid succession. Tu’luh felt the lightning course through his body.
One of the ice spikes jammed into his hind leg, but it was not so deep to worry
about it. The black dragon even managed to stab one of its tail spikes into
Tu’luh’s side, but the wound went only skin-deep underneath the scale it
pierced. Tu’luh did not disengage from the young dragon. He answered each
attack with one of his own, and very soon won the upper hand.

They tumbled down toward the ground spiraling in a
death grip. Finally the young dragon was able to score a hit just under
Tu’luh’s eye. The large silver dragon recoiled just enough that the young
dragon escaped. The young dragon immediately shifted form back to that of a
human. A gash in his back dripped blood down his shirt, and just before he
finished transforming Tu’luh saw the dragon had a broken wing. Tu’luh sent a
whirling tornado of fire at the young dragon, but a portal opened and it
escaped.

From that point on, Tu’luh knew the black dragon would
not harass him again.

He flew back to regroup with Salarion and the others.
Salarion wore the amulet around her neck and led the army forward. Tu’luh would
let her dominate the enemy soldiers while he would remain in reserve in case
the young dragon, or another threat, arose during battle.

Within days, Tu’luh and his army overran several small
villages. Whatever stragglers they found, they either killed or turned. Using
Salarion’s skill as a stealthy scout, Tu’luh would send her forward into some
villages alone. She could then sneak in and capture all of the inhabitants
without a single blade being drawn or any alarm being raised. This saved Tu’luh
the time of resurrecting dead bodies all of the time, which also preserved his
strength. Tu’luh’s army grew, albeit incrementally. Soon the massive army
crossed to enter Grobung, a city, just south of Fort Drake.

When Tu’luh found the town, it appeared as though
Master Lepkin had already evacuated the city. The stores were empty, some
buildings were boarded and shuttered up, and the streets were void of anything
save for a random gray cat. Tu’luh decided that he should send Salarion forward
while he holed up in the city in case Master Lepkin had a surprise for him.

The dark she-elf approached Tu’luh. No words were
spoken between them. Words were unnecessary as the power of the amulet
connected each slave directly to Tu’luh’s brain. In fact, the only reason
Tu’luh brought Salarion to him was to give her better armor. He knew that the
fight ahead of his army would be fierce. He gifted Salarion with a set of steel
mail. Then, he sent her to the north.

*****

Lady Arkyn sat next to a smoldering campfire between
two other scouts. She took the last morsel of bread, turned it over between her
fingers and then placed it into her mouth and chewed. She kept her eyes toward
the south. She could just make out the outlines of the buildings in the city of
Grobung. Just before dusk she saw the first ranks of the army marching north on
the road. She spied orcs and humans alike, wearing full body armor and heavily
armed. It was a formidable force. On the flanks she even saw resurrected goargs
with riders bearing spears and bows. She sent the other two scouts immediately
toward the fort to warn the others. She, however, stayed behind and readied her
bow that she had taken to replace the one that was broken when she had tried to
kill Gulgarin.

She knew that if she saw the dragon, she would stand
little chance of defeating him, but she hoped to find the source of his power.
The amulet that Dimwater had spoken of was something that could be taken, or
possibly even destroyed. The only question was whether or not she could get
close enough to destroy it without falling victim to its curse.

Her hopes were dashed apart when she realized the one
who wore the amulet was a dark elf riding upon a great goarg. The elf was
heavily protected amidst ranks of orcs, and Lady Arkyn knew there would be no
way to get close to the elf without being exposed to the amulet’s magic. She
turned northward and fled, hoping to warn the others before the army could
reach Fort Drake.

*****

Marlin stood in a tower, watching all the soldiers
stand and
march
toward the enemy army. This was
not a plan that he had hoped for nor
one that he was
particularly fond of. Still, even Marlin had to acknowledge the fact that
standing inside the fortress would afford the heroes little protection, if any,
once the amulet came close enough to enslave them. Their choices were simple.
They could run out to meet the enemy and hope that somebody stopped the dark
elf who wore the amulet, or they could flee northward. The latter choice was
not an option. The farther north they fled, the more innocent civilians would
fall to Tu’luh’s power. Marlin knew that Aparen would also join the fight. If
the heroes could use archers to slow the enemy army, then perhaps Aparen could
get close enough to take the amulet.

As the archers drew back their bows and catapults
began to fire, Marlin scanned the enemy army with his special vision. He noted
that his army, those fighting for the freedom of the Middle Kingdom, all had
bright, colorful auras. The enemy army, on the other hand, had almost no auras
at all. They were a pale, sickly gray. Marlin saw no emotion in them. There was
no fear, no pain, and certainly no love or hope. It was as if they were nothing
more than animated corpses. Marlin watch them fall as the missiles rained down,
pummeling the enemy. Still, they came onward. Their marching footsteps
thundered over the road despite the onslaught of their comrades. It did not
matter how many fell before them, they continued to advance.

Out of the corner of his eye, Marlin saw Lady
Dimwater. She was up on the fortress wall. Resonating within her aura was a
strong, fierce anger that shone brightly in red hues. From her vantage point on
the wall she fired spells to attack the enemy army. Scores of enemy orcs and
humans fell, yet even the magic did nothing to slow them.

As the enemy closed within one hundred yards of the
defenders, Marlin watched in horror as the enemy dead were raised again.
Salarion carefully picked her way through the field and used the amulet to
bolster the enemy army. The freshly raised zombies joined back in their ranks
without hesitation. There was no shouting, there were no orders spoken, and
there were no trumpets or bugles to sound their advance or their maneuvers. The
enemy army acted by someone else’s will. Marlin knew they were unstoppable. He
could see no spell that could halt them, even those that were burned, unless
they were completely disintegrated into ash, were resurrected only a short
while later to rejoin the ranks and continue the fight.

At this sight many of the archers broke their ranks
and fled Fort Drake. There was nothing any of the officers could do to save
their faltering lines. Those men who were valiant enough to remain steadfast in
the face of such formidable danger were soon taken over by Nagar’s curse.

Marlin studied the battle scene. He watched the zombie
Salarion carefully and soon discovered that the amulet had to be within fifty
yards of a target in order to enslave it or resurrect it. He didn’t know how,
but he knew that he had to try and stop the amulet taking all of the people
from Fort Drake. Luckily, at that moment he saw Aparen running out to the
field. Before Marlin’s very eyes the young man shifted into a grotesque figure,
like that of a monstrous beast with spikes, horns, and demented wings. He leapt
into the air over the enemy army and rained fireballs upon them. He called down
lightning and even made the earth shake tremendously so that the enemy army
could not keep their footing. He started to run towards Salarion. Marlin
watched intently. When Aparen came within fifty yards of Salarion, Marlin
thought for sure that Aparen would fall subject to the amulet, but he did not.
Aparen ran directly toward Salarion.

A great flash of light struck out across the sky like
a bolt of lightning, but it did not disappear or vanish. Instead the great
light spread, flattening and broadening like a great blanket over the enemy
army. The blinding light dropped covering the immediate area around Aparen,
Salarion, and most of the enemy army. When the light faded Aparen was stuck. He
stopped advancing toward Salarion. He cut down many orcish soldiers around him
and flew into the air above the enemy army. He continued to rain fire and
lightning down upon the enemy but he did not strike at the amulet or take it.