“He’d probably thank the dragon,” Junior muttered, but he appreciated Grog’s concern.
Grog frowned at him, half of his face hideously scarred. “What’s that, boy?”
Junior shook his head. “Nothing.”
Grog tipped his thick tower shield to one side. The dragons rounded on their position from the east and the west. “This isn’t going to go well.”
Rising so all could hear, Grog shouted, “Lock shields overhead! Squeeze tight! Flanking units form walls! Nothing gets through to the punchers!”
Junior was pushed toward where the crews of the ‘punchers’ had the ballistae almost together. If they could keep the siege engines from harm for one more attack, he believed they would be operable for the next wave.
The wizards formed a square around the launchers, powering their staffs in anticipation. Squires stirred mixed small cauldrons of acid and poison for the surrounding archers to dip their iron-tipped arrows into.
Junior searched beneath the canopy of metal for his family. Jonas and Joram barked orders at the Fishmonger Bay dragon slayers from the far end of Grog’s shield formation. The familiar faces of the village trackers huddled behind the heaviest of the shields, their expertise of little use now that the dragons were engaged. There was no sign of Jaxon.
Junior extended his neck to search the burnt corpses within view, but a violent yank from Grog almost tanked his arm from his socket.
“You got a death wish, boy?” Grog’s words were lost to the thunderous roar of raging dragon fire—beast after terrifying beast laid down a wall of flames.
Agonized screams rose above the din. Several gaps appeared in the ranks of the defenders—the shield bearers consumed in fire.
Bowstrings thrummed. The dull ‘thwap’ of deadly arrows piercing scales sounded from every direction.
Explosive concussions rattled the shield lines as volatile wizard spells tore into the dragon ranks.
Through it all, the flying nightmares kept coming—spewing fiery death on anyone not holding their shields just right.
Long after the second wave soared away to gather for a third attack, the cries of the dying mixed with the mournful screeching of several downed dragons. Two of the massive creatures had fallen amongst the shield walls, crushing men and women alike.
The flailing beasts were made quick work of by an army of slayers who faced them without hesitation.
Grog parted his shield with the rest of the firebreakers to assess their situation. “Close the gaps! Toss the dead!”
The surviving defenders pulled and carried their dead comrades to the outside perimeter and tightened their ranks around the wizards and ballistae crews. If they were to survive, they needed to keep a tight formation until the punchers were ready to unleash their deadly bolts.
“They’ll come at us from the north and south! Turn and lock!” Grog ordered.
Junior had to admit that Grog knew what he was doing. The mass of dragons, no less impressive with the loss of several of their number, banked in formation and commenced a third attack. Judging by the attrition rate of the king’s men, the dragons would soon have the upper hand.
Junior stretched to the tip of his toes but couldn’t find his brother. In the back of his mind, he dreaded what would happen if the dragon army decided to land and rush their position. Ballistae or not, they’d be overrun in moments.
Ratcheting cranks turned the winches of the ballistae, disturbing the bizarre calm that had settled over the battlefield between attack waves. Wooden missiles hewn from small trees were loaded into the beds of the cumbersome machines and drawn back as the ropes attached to the throwing arms tightened their hold, charging the gigantic, crossbow-like weapons with incredible tension.
Junior’s eyes bulged. Two of the pointed projectiles seemed like they were levelled in his direction. He ducked before Grog had to yell at him.
The nerve-rattling crackle of dragon fire erupted along the northern flank, followed closely by the roar of the beasts attacking from the south. Junior bent low, covering his head with his hands, hoping that insignificant feat would protect him should Grog falter.
Arrows whapped dragon scales, and wizard spells concussed the field. Shield edges clattered against each other as the fiery roar closed on Junior’s position.
The commander’s gruff voice rose above the din. “Loose!”
Four distinct whooshes came from where the ballistae sat. No sooner had the mighty weapons released than the noise of the attack took on a new sound—the ballistae bolts finding their marks, skewering full-sized dragons and dropping them out of the sky.
Calls to action accompanied the dragon fall as the third wave passed beyond the defensive lines. Axe blades rang out—slayers performing the grizzly task of slaughtering the fallen beasts.
“Reload!”
The winches creaked again.
Not waiting for the firebreakers to lower their shields, Junior crawled away from Grog toward the ballistae and beyond, searching for Jaxon. Passing the last puncher, Junior questioned why he even cared. Since becoming Jonas’ head tracker, Jaxon had stopped being afraid of Junior’s superior strength. His younger brother had been elevated in the eyes of the dragon hunt while he, himself, had suffered nothing but humiliation. All because of Reecah! He gritted his teeth. His brother was right. The woman was nothing but trouble.
A sudden vision of the way Jaxon had described Viper’s death made Junior stop and shudder. What an awful way to go.
“Watch where you’re going!” a broad-shouldered man, half Junior’s height, grumbled.
Junior had crawled across the handle of the stumpy man’s battle-axe. He swallowed. “Sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
The short man put his unproportionally huge face against Junior’s, his breath reeking of ale. “You bet your britches it won’t, or you’ll be getting me axe in your pretty boy face. Hear me?”
Junior gulped. The man was half his size but equally as wide. The bulging gut beneath his black beard bespoke of a slovenly individual but the diameter of his corded forearms testified he wasn’t to be trifled with. Junior nodded. Without a word, he crawled away.
A gruff voice barked an order and the shield rows around Junior adjusted their stance to face the east—their well-drilled precision thundering off the mountain slope. He stared in awe at the sight but couldn’t help gagging at the greasy pall left by the burned corpses as they were hastily dragged between the ranks to the front line—the grotesque husks deposited beyond the firebreakers.
In the distance, the dragon wave circled to begin its next pass.
“Lock!”
The command sounded behind Junior. Ducking beneath the iron ceiling clicking into place, he caught sight of Jaxon’s blonde head. His brother huddled on the southern end of the front line with a score of king’s men. Outfitted in black surcoats they stood out from their peers. Junior remembered them arriving with the reinforcements. The shield bearers’ tight formation prevented him from crawling farther until the next wave passed.
Junior shivered as ear-piercing shrieks rattled the metal field covering the dragon hunt. Longbows released and the ground shook several times shortly afterward.
Thunderous gouts of fire erupted across the defenders—flames licking between small breaks in the protective cover. Holding the massive shields aloft, strong arms trembled under the force of the flame waves.
The punchers released their dragon killing missiles moments before the shield cover adjusted their angle to repel the fiery assault hitting them from the west. Junior cringed. The greatest casualties to the king’s men happened during the transition. Cowering on hands and knees, he was certain the hair on his head had shrivelled under the infernal blasts.
The earth shook three times in rapid succession—the ballistae had taken down three more flying beasts.
The attack was over quicker than before—the heinous din of the receding dragons replaced by the cries of their recent victims. Dragon fire was a horrible
way to die. It clung to its victim like molten metal—rapidly incinerating its target.
The firebreakers stood and parted their shields, allowing the slayers to jump forth and deal with the creatures squirming and snapping on the charred ground.
Junior was shocked by the number of mangled dragons littering the field. Half of the beasts still aloft flew erratically, bristling with arrows or missing scales where wizard blasts had damaged their hides. Despite his earlier belief that the dragons would soon gain the upper hand, the king’s men were winning the day.
The line of dragons flying east turned and winged their way over the valley. Junior held his breath and looked behind him—the remainder of the dragons followed suit.
A victory shout rose from the king’s men.
Junior flinched at the sound of gauntlets, axes and hammers ringing off tower shields in celebration.
Movement on the eastern flank drew Junior’s attention. Jaxon and the small host of black-armoured knights broke across the battlefield, ignoring the fallen dragons and following the ridgeline deeper into Dragonfang Pass.
Grabbing a firebreaker by the shoulder, Junior pointed. “Who are they?”
The grizzled man squinted. “You don’t want to be messing with them. Those are J’kaar’s elite troops.”
Junior furrowed his brow. “J’kaar?”
“The high king, you twit.” The firebreaker shook his head and stomped away.
“Right, High King J’kaar,” Junior said abashed but the man never looked back.
He remembered hearing about J’kaar’s elite troops. More a band of assassins than chivalrous knights if rumours held any sway. “What is Jax doing with them?”
A stocky man, no taller than his chest, walked by and turned with a sneer. The man’s thick hands clenched the handle of a well-used battle-axe. “What did ye say?”
Junior’s face paled. He hadn’t realized he had spoken out loud. “Ah, nothing mister. Just talking to myself.”
The dwarf’s thick brows came together. “Humph,” was all he said before continuing on his way.
Junior exhaled the breath he had been holding. Curious as to where Jaxon was leading the infamous troop, he started after them.
Grimclaw
Swoop led Reecah and Lurker through a twisting passageway—the dragonlings struggling to squeeze through several narrow sections but they never quite got stuck. Tell-tale claw scrapes informed them that someone came after them. Reecah hoped it was Silence.
Her hand upon Lurker’s shoulder to guide her in the wider sections, Reecah wondered about his reaction at the falls. “Why don’t you like red dragons?”
“Red dragons?” Lurker asked, his voice accompanied by Swoop’s nervous laugh. “Stupid know-it-alls. They think they’re superior.”
“Why’s that?”
“You tell me.”
Apparently, a sore subject. Reecah let it go.
They travelled through the darkness for a long time. Swoop led, Reecah hung onto Lurker while Raver had settled upon his neck. On a few occasions, Reecah stumbled on the ground as it steadily slanted upward, or was bashed by an encroaching wall. Ignoring her mishaps, she feared the tunnel might be closing in on itself, but Lurker and Swoop never faltered. Every now and then, light at the end of a side passage informed her that their path paralleled the mountain face.
“Do you know where we’re going, Swoop?”
“Kind of. Silence said to follow the tunnel to the end. It’s supposed to empty out on the ancestral tomb level.”
Reecah’s stumble had nothing to do with the tunnel floor. “Ancestral tomb? You mean the Dragon Temple?”
Although they never spoke a word, nor could she see them in the dark confines, Reecah knew both dragons were puzzled by her comment. She frowned. It was like she was inside their head.
“Dragon temple? You mentioned that name before. What is this place you speak of?” Lurker responded, an air of hesitancy in his words.
She wasn’t sure she should continue. Something about the name made her dragon friends uneasy. But she had to know. She might never get this close again. “Your ancestral tombs. They wouldn’t by chance be guarded by an…um…old beast, would they?”
She felt Lurker miss a step but it was Swoop who responded with a nervous laugh. “I guess you could call him that, but I wouldn’t suggest saying it to his face.”
“Call who that? What are you talking about?”
“Lurker, tell her who guards the tombs.”
Lurker shuddered beneath Reecah’s palm.
Swoop answered for him. “Grimclaw watches over the tombs. And yes, he’s the oldest dragon in the five kingdoms.”
Lurker stopped walking. “Can we not talk about him, please? Let’s just get out of here.”
A low growl sounded from behind.
Reecah’s hands went to her sword hilt but Lurker’s voice stayed her.
“You made it. Are you okay?”
“I’ll live.” Silence’s voice came in low.
“You’re hurt.”
“Not as bad as Scarletclaws, but we better keep moving. He won’t stay down long.”
“Scarletclaws?” Reecah asked, sensing rather than witnessing Silence’s nod.
“I used your technique for naming us. He’s a red dragon, so…”
Reecah smiled. Patting Lurker, she urged him forward. “Let’s go, then. Take me to this ancestral tomb of yours.”
Again, the shudder, but Lurker started forward. “Only death awaits anyone foolish enough to go there.”
Silence growled her displeasure. “The ancestral tombs are sacred. Humans aren’t permitted.”
The hostility in Silence’s voice threw Reecah.
Swoop interrupted. “How much farther, Silence?”
“Two more levels up.”
“Do you know how the assault went?”
Silence didn’t respond at first. When she did, her voice barely registered. “Not well. Many dragons were killed.”
“They’re back?” Swoop asked.
“What’s left of them. They’re preparing for an assault on Dragon Home.” She went silent for a while, leaving everyone to their thoughts. When she spoke again, Reecah shivered.
“We need to be careful. If they find Reecah, they’ll kill her.”
Reecah had no idea how long they travelled the winding passageway but Lurker tensed beneath her palm long before she sensed the tunnel lightening ahead.
Swoop stopped. “Let me go first. If they’re looking for us, I’m sure they know where the tunnel ends. It doesn’t take long to get here through the air.”
Reecah swallowed her discomfort. She hadn’t thought about that. She checked her sword.
The vision of Viper’s last moments made her shiver. A seasoned fighter, he had faced a baby dragon and it hadn’t ended well. What good was her sword against a full-grown, fire-breathing dragon? They would use her blade to pick their teeth when they were done with her.
“How many exits does this tunnel have?”
Silence answered, “Many, but I suspect if they were going to watch one in particular, it will be this one.”
“That’s not good.”
Swoop’s angular silhouette filled the exit, sunlight spilling across her horned face. She turned her head in all directions. “Looks clear.”
Lurker started forward. “Remain here until we check the area. Silence, stay with her.”
Reecah took a few steps toward the light and stopped. Removing her hand from Lurker’s back, she let him go ahead on his own. Silence stepped up beside her but said nothing.
Outside the exit, Swoop unfurled her wings and sprang out of sight.
Clearing the tunnel, Raver leapt from Lurker’s neck and followed Swoop. Lurker turned a slow circle, scanning the area. He took two quick steps, fluttered his wings and took flight. In moments, he was lost to view.
Distant screeches sounded from outside—how far away, Reecah had no way of telling.
A larger shadow darken
ed the exit, one much bigger than Lurker or Swoop would throw. An adult had touched down.
Silence’s words made her jump.
“Run!”
Reecah swung her head to question the purple dragon but Silence pushed her forward. If she didn’t move her feet toward the dragon waiting outside, Silence would trample her.
Hadn’t Silence noticed the dragon’s shadow? Reecah wanted to voice her concern but a rapid clawing noise from deeper within the tunnel had her running toward daylight.
Swoop appeared out of nowhere, dropping out of the sky—barely missing the ground before disappearing from view. A shriek grated Reecah’s nerves, followed by the flap of huge wings. The shadow chased after Swoop.
“Go as fast as you can. Don’t stop until you come across the vine-covered wall. Be careful you don’t miss it. We’ll find you when we can.”
“What? Where am I going?” Reecah tried to keep the panic from her voice.
“The ancestral tombs. Whatever you do, do not disturb Grimclaw. He doesn’t hear well, but if he sees you, well…”
Silence didn’t have to elaborate. Reecah gave her a quick pat on the side of the face. “Take care of yourself. Don’t get hurt because of me.”
Silence nudged her with her snout. “Go, before it’s too late.”
Reecah thought she saw the dark outline of Scarletclaws charging up the tunnel. Without looking back, she sprinted into the sunshine. She expected to be eaten but the way was clear. Lurker and Swoop had led the dragon away.
The sun sank into the western end of the valley, taking with it the staggering heat of the afternoon. Although cool in the tunnel confines, running across the forested slopes of the valley’s north rim proved exhausting. It had been a long day.
Reecah slowed her pace, worried she had missed the entrance to the dragon tombs. Silence had mentioned a vine-covered wall, but she had no idea what that meant. Was it like a hedgerow? Was the wall a natural formation? Out here, she couldn’t imagine it being anything else. Was it sitting against the side of the slopes rising on her left, or did it form a protective barrier against anyone foolish enough to slip off the ridge? She couldn’t understand why anyone would’ve built a wall way out here in the first place.
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