by Craig Askham
Further along, Ben heard splashing. It was coming closer.
“We need to go now!” he hissed.
“Wait! Ben, is that you?”
Ben’s heart leapt. They weren’t the only survivors. But he couldn’t tell from the whisper who the hell it was, or even if the voice was male or female. Well done to whoever it was for knowing it was him, though. He or she was clearly better with voices than he was.
Vantalon’s head bobbed into view in the water where they’d just exited. Ben’s heart leapt again. If he could have chosen anyone to survive other than himself and Talia, then Vantalon was the man. Although Caspillo might have come in useful too, of course.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes, dude.” He offered his hand, and helped pull the older man out of the water. “Do you know if there are any other survivors?”
Vantalon nodded, and ushered them to follow him.
“Yes, I heard splashing further out. I don’t know who, but there are definitely others. Come on, we need to head for the trees.”
“No!” Talia stood her ground. She said the word loudly, verging on hysteria. Ben and Vantalon froze. “We need to find Sorin.”
Ben swivelled back to face the water, and found himself staring at the dragon. She hadn’t moved, but was staring straight back.
“Shit.” He prepared himself for the ear-splitting scream that was inevitably going to precede the next round of flames. He watched her draw in a deep breath.
“Back in the water!” Vantalon yelled, but didn’t move. Ben watched as the dragon looked suddenly away from them, turning to look at something in the sky that human eyes couldn’t see yet. Wait. There, above the hovering beast. A dozen black dots. What the hell were they? “Scratch that,” Vantalon said, and pointed back at the trees. “Back to Plan A.”
“No,” Talia said again, accompanying it this time with an impetuous stamp of her foot. “We need to wait for Sorin. He’s out there somewhere.”
“That asshole can look after himself. There’s no way I’m lucky enough that he’s been barbecued.” The words were out of Ben’s mouth before he could stop them. It must have been the stress of the situation, as he was sure that wasn’t the kind of thing he’d say out loud. Well, not in front of Talia, anyway. Speaking of whom, she fixed him with the coldest glare she, or anyone in fact, had ever given him. There was a little shock thrown in there as well, just for good measure. And disgust.
“Benjamin.”
“Screw this,” he said, and bent down to pick her up. She fought him all the way, but his adrenaline was stronger than hers. He slung her over his shoulder and followed Vantalon towards the trees, grimacing as she punched him on the backside and tried to kick him in the face. He’d only taken three or four steps when he heard more splashing, and spun around to see who else had made it. Lee Casey was dragging himself from the water, and Ben grinned back at him. He was actually grateful the annoying little redhead was alive.
“No more dragons,” he was muttering, apparently not even noticing that Ben was there. “No more dragons. No more bleedin’ dragons.”
“Lee!” Ben called, and the poor fellow nearly fell back into the water in fright. He calmed down slightly when he saw who it was.
“No more dragons.”
“Agreed,” said Ben. “Now shut up and head for the trees.”
He looked back at the dragon, grateful that Talia was starting to wear herself out. He dodged a flailing boot that headed in his direction, and finally noticed what the black dots in the sky were.
“No more dragons,” Lee mumbled.
“Kincoras!” Ben said, in awe. He raised a hand and pointed.
“No more Kincoras,” Lee agreed.
The Kincoras had arrived. Ben had no idea whether they’d been summoned by Jas Toor, or whether the bond she shared with them had alerted them to the danger she was in and they’d come of their own accord. Either way, Ben was grateful to see them. Two of them wheeled in with claws outstretched and attacked the dragon, screeching in fury at who they assumed to be the cause of their friend’s distress. Their screeches were immediately drowned out by the scream of the dragon, who snapped with her teeth at the closest bird and caught it between her jaws. She shook her head four times and spat the dead bird out, and it plummeted into the water. Ben’s heart sank. It didn’t matter how many of them there were, or how fierce they were, they were no match for the dragon.
He was wrong. The second Kincora took advantage of the distraction and darted in to take a bite at the dragon’s neck where it wasn’t protected by scales, and the magnificent red beast’s scream turned to one of pain. The bird retreated as fast as she could and, for a second, Ben thought she was going to make it. Then she was engulfed in flames and dropped out of view somewhere in the valley. By now, the rest of the Kincoras had arrived.
“Ben!” He turned at the sound of Vantalon’s voice. “Move your arse, now!”
Ben did as he was told, and ran off as fast as he could with Talia over his shoulder.
“Get moving!” he called back to Lee.
Ten seconds later, Lee overtook him and didn’t look back. He moved so quickly that it wasn’t long before he also caught up with Vantalon. He didn’t overtake him but matched him stride for stride, wanting to live but unwilling to be the first one to make it to the trees just in case an even worse fate was awaiting there. Ben shook his head, and struggled on with his deadweight. A minute later, he heard footsteps pounding behind him and turned to see Sorin pumping his fists in an effort to catch them up.
“Knew it,” he murmured, and stopped to put Talia down. She saw Sorin immediately, and held out her arms to greet him. He ran straight past as if neither of them were even there.
“Sorin!” Talia screamed, half in relief and half in anger.
“What an asshole,” Ben sighed, bending at the waist and gulping deep breaths. Talia ignored him and set off after her brave boyfriend, and Ben couldn’t help but chuckle wryly. “You know what?” he called after her, although he was sure she wasn’t listening. “I’m pretty sure you two were made for each other.”
He straightened up and followed them, able to open up the throttle a little now he was no longer carrying her. He was fit, and a decent distance runner; it didn’t take long for him to overtake her, breezing past as if she wasn’t there. Sorin was next; he had to resist the urge to trip him up on the way past, but somehow managed it after reminding himself to be less like his nemesis.
Up ahead, Vantalon and Lee disappeared into the trees. Ben fixed his eyes on that exact spot and focused on it, lengthening his stride even more. He could see activity in the trees where the two men had entered; a flash of metal and human movement. More than two figures, by the look of it. Perhaps some of the others had already made it there.
It wasn’t until he was nearly there that he began to suspect something wasn’t quite right. He wasn’t sure why, but he at least thought that Vantalon might have poked his head back out to check on Ben’s progress. But there was nothing, not even any more signs of human activity. He slowed to a halt. Pounding footsteps behind him told him that Sorin wasn’t far behind.
A figure stepped out of the trees, and Ben jolted in fright. It was Vykron, and he was pointing a crossbow at Ben’s chest. Ben couldn’t move. He heard Sorin behind him skid to a stop, and heard him swear.
“Bugger.”
“Akelius,” Vykron said gruffly, and jerked his head over his shoulder. “This way, if you please. And your friends. Immediately.”
Relieved that the gangster had decided against killing him on the spot, Ben did as he was told. Sorin brushed his shoulder, and that one tense touch revealed to Ben that the idiot was about to make a run for it. He grabbed the idiot by the arm and yanked him back. Talia slid to a halt next to him.
“Don’t be stupid, Sorin. He will shoot you.”
“Correct, Akelius.” Vykron, under the circumstances, seemed remarkably calm. Had he not realised his plans had fallen down around his ears?
Sorin shrugged his arm free of Ben’s grip, but stayed put. Together, the three of them advanced towards their captor, who started backing away whilst never pointing his crossbow away from the centre of Ben’s chest. Ben chanced one last glance over his shoulder before entering the darkness of the trees, but all he could see was burning Kincoras dropping from the sky.
Eighteen
Vykron’s plan was never going to work. Anybody with half a brain could see that. The area just inside the tree line was a hive of activity, crowded with at least a dozen more of the gangster’s men. Vantalon stood off to the side, guarded by two mercenaries with swords pointed at his throat, watching what was happening with his arms folded. Ben moved to stand next to him, eliciting some angry sword waving from his two guards. Ben held up his hands in surrender, and turned a full circle to show that he wasn’t armed. His sword was probably a pool of molten metal by now, anyway. One of the guards went back to pointing his weapon in Vantalon’s direction, and the other took a step closer to Ben.
“This is an unexpected development,” Vantalon said, nodding in the direction of the huge ballista that was in the final stages of being assembled by the rest of Vykron’s men. The weapon was nearly twenty feet long, made of wood and metal, and looked like a giant crossbow. Some of the smaller trees by the edge of the wood had been hastily hacked at to make room, and were still leaning against their siblings at a drunken angle. Farkas stood way back into the trees, almost out of sight, observing proceedings with a grin on his face but clearly ready to take flight as soon as was necessary.
“I guess we know how Vykron thinks he’s going to get his dragon head.” Ben shook his head, and then waved a dismissive hand in the ballista’s direction. “It’s madness! If he manages to get a shot off before the dragon turns it to firewood, he has to make sure that one shot hits the mark because there’s no way he’s getting a second chance!”
Ben’s guard took another step closer to him, and pushed the tip of his sword onto the skin of his neck.
“Shut your mouth, you little cocksucker.”
Ben took a small step backwards, just enough to prevent the blade from drawing blood. Vantalon took a step in their direction, grim determination on his face, and Ben held up a hand to warn him off just as the other guard rushed forward. The guard tried to swipe him around the head with the flat of his blade, but the former soldier simply ducked out of its path and waited for the mercenary’s momentum to carry him forward. Then he simply spun the man around and shoved him onto the dirt, skilfully relieving him of his sword as he did so. Ben’s guard snarled and headed in Vantalon’s direction, and as soon as his back was to Ben he stepped forward and planted his boot onto the man’s backside. The mercenary stumbled forward, and fell on top of his comrade. Vantalon stepped in close, holding his stolen sword with both hands on the hilt, and rammed the blade through the backs of both men, not stopping until he hit dirt and he’d neatly skewered them both to the ground. The noise they made attracted the attention of Vykron’s remaining mercenaries, who stopped what they were doing and reached for their weapons. Vantalon stooped down to pry the sword from the fingers of the other dead man, then dropped into a fighting crouch.
“Get behind me, Ben.”
“Enough!” Vykron appeared from the grass on the other side of the trees, pushing Lee in front of him. He forced the Stillwater man to his knees and held a knife to his throat. “It is not my intention to kill any of you,” he barked. “But if you get in my way, please be assured that I will do exactly that.”
The gangster’s men halted their advances, some of them looking at their fallen comrades and grumbling, but nobody went against him. Weapons, though, remained drawn. Ben couldn’t help himself; if this idiot didn’t kill them, the dragon probably would and, if he was going to die today, he wanted to understand why this was happening.
“Why are you doing this?” He tried not to sound hysterical, but the sight of Lee on the ground in front of their captor, blubbing his heart out, wasn’t helping. “That’s a Stillwater employee you’re holding a knife to, and we’re gamers. Stillwater will let you get away with a lot, but everybody knows gamers aren’t allowed to kill gamers, let alone the employees!” He couldn’t think of another way to make the man understand the lunacy of his actions, and he didn’t seem in any rush to answer, so he finished off with a desperate repeat of his original question. “Why are you doing this?”
Meryt crashed into the wood not far behind Vykron, sword in his right hand and what looked like Jas Toor thrown over his left shoulder. He was panting, but took in the whole scene in front of him remarkably quickly and gave the best greeting he could.
“Shit.”
Vykron shifted his stance so that he had the newcomer covered, and the ensuing awkwardness was only disturbed by Lee’s whimpers. Ten seconds passed, and then Caspillo appeared right behind Meryt, almost knocking into him and Jas Toor. He pulled up just in time, which couldn’t have been easy because he had his sword in his right hand and a robed figure draped over his left shoulder like a sash. Like Meryt, he took in the scene before him with a soldier’s quick reactions.
“Shit.”
“Welcome, Caspillo,” said Vykron. “Thank you for returning my mage.”
“Shut up, idiot. Dragon’s coming.” He was struggling to speak, drawing in huge lungfuls of air.
Vykron tensed, gestured at his men with the knife he’d been threatening Lee with, and then at the ballista.
“Get that weapon loaded!” he roared.
His men leapt to work immediately and, on cue, they heard the scream of the approaching dragon. Ben caught some of the mercenaries looking at each other in fear, but they kept moving.
“Wait!” he shouted. “We need to get out of here. If that shot misses the dragon, we’re all dead. Surely you can see that? Why are you following this madman? Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll pay you ten times as much to stop what you’re doing, right now. You might even get to live long enough to spend it!”
“Ignore him! Load the weapon!” Vykron was nearly apoplectic with rage. “It’s too late to escape, our only chance now is to kill it!”
Two of the mercenaries picked up a long bolt that had been propped up against one of the trees next to the ballista. There were three of them altogether, which seemed like wishful thinking. Thick and made with smooth wood, they were topped with metal that might, just might, have been sharp enough to penetrate the underbelly of a dragon. Trying their best to remain calm, the pair of them loaded the bolt and frantically started turning the wheels that pulled at the limbs of the weapon. Ben wasn’t convinced they were going to have time to finish. Vykron abandoned Lee, who collapsed onto his belly, and rushed over to the ballista. He started turning a handle, and the barrel of the weapon started lifting. Caspillo caught Ben’s attention, and started pointing over the latter’s shoulder. Ben assumed he was pointing at Farkas but, when he turned to look, the Stillwater escapee was nowhere to be seen. Belatedly, he realised Caspillo was signalling for him to run.
Fire rained down on the trees. Instinctively, Ben dropped to the ground and covered his head. The heat was intense, but it passed and he risked looking up. The trees to his right were on fire, flames already raging as they got to work without hesitation, but the dragon had thankfully missed her prey. Alternatively, she was just toying with them. Her silhouette passed overhead, partially obscured by the top branches of the trees, and he knew she was wheeling around for her next pass. The ballista was loaded, and the barrel pointed at an angle that might just work. Vykron grasped hold of two handles, and started turning the weapon to track their attacker. At least three of the mercenaries lost their nerve and fled deeper into the woods, presumably on the hunt for the portal through which they’d arrived. Talia was screaming; Ben looked her way, expecting her to be on fire, but she wasn’t. She’d grabbed hold of Sorin’s hand and was dragging him in the same direction as the deserter me
rcenaries. As relieved as he was that she was making a run for it, he watched her until she disappeared and couldn’t help but notice she didn’t look back. Not even once.
“Get up, you idiot!”
Ben jerked, and looked up to see Rima Kaseevar glaring down at him. She looked like death warmed up, with blood everywhere, but somehow she was now carrying the still inert form of Jas Toor. The fire crackled and popped in the background, feeding hungrily, already out of control. Sweat trickled down his forehead and, when he took a breath to reply to Rima, it hurt like hell and no words came out.
He jumped to his feet. Rima was swaying under the magic-user’s weight, and he reached out to steady her. Swallowing hard, he tried to speak again.
“Let me take her,” he offered, and the soldier shook her head.
“My responsibility. Now get moving. The portal these fools used is around here somewhere, and it’s our only hope.”
“I’m right behind you,” Ben lied. “Go, I’ll meet you there.”
She shook her head in frustration, but knew she was in no position to be able to force him. Her hands were full, and he knew there was no way she was going to abandon Jas. A magic user’s worth was more than that of a trillionaire, and he didn’t have an issue with that.
“Don’t die, Ben. First round’s on you.”
Attempting a parting smile that may have been more a look of terror, Ben left her and headed in the direction of Vykron and the ballista, pausing once to look back and make sure the stubborn soldier wasn’t still there. She wasn’t. The heat was unbearable, but he focused his attention on Vykron and saw that his finger was twitching on the trigger. He didn’t need to be able to see the dragon to know she was close. Meryt passed him by, now carrying the enemy mage, and reached out a hand to grab Ben’s arm as he went.