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

by Craig Halloran

  Flight of the Dragon

  The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 5

  By Craig Halloran

  Flight of the Dragon

  The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 5

  By Craig Halloran

  Copyright © 2016 by Craig Halloran

  Amazon Edition

  TWO-TEN BOOK PRESS

  P.O. Box 4215, Charleston, WV 25364

  ISBN eBook: 978-1-941208-75-5

  ISBN Paperback: 978-1-941208-76-2

  www.craighalloran.com

  Cover Illustration by Joe Shawcross

  Map by Gillis Bjork

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recorded, photocopied, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.

  Publisher's Note

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Map

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  Epilogue

  About the Author and Other Works

  Map

  CHAPTER 1

  “Let me bust him up.” Brenwar had Mortuun shoved in Rybek’s face. The evil warrior was bound up with his hands behind his back and sitting on the stone floor. There was a victorious sneer on his face. “I’ll remove the snide look from his jaw forever!”

  Rybek’s broad shoulders heaved with his chuckles. His dark eyes moved back and forth between Nath and his company with nothing but a taunting look in them. His voice was a dark rumble when he spoke. “Look at you. Look at all of you! You’ve fought so hard and lost. Now your father is lost. What a fool! Eckubahn will have been ready for his ploy, and it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if Balzurth was dead already.” His nostrils flared. “Victory. I smell victory. The world of dragons falls.”

  Brenwar cocked back his elbow and made a fist. The leather of his gauntlet squeaked. “I’ll show you victory!”

  “Enough, Brenwar. You’ll get your chance to question him later.” Nath was standing by the sacrificial slab of stone, tending to Ben and Bayzog. Both man and part-elf looked about as bad as he’d ever seen them. Ben’s face was burned. Laylana, Laedorn’s elven daughter and a fine warrior, was treating the red blisters on Ben’s cheeks with nimble fingers. Sasha and Bayzog were reunited. Bayzog lay in his wife’s arms, eyes closed, with a wheeze behind his breaths. His hair was almost all white, but some of the color had returned to his face. Nath watched Sasha stroke her husband’s cheek and looked into her soft eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him sleep before.”

  “It takes much to get him to rest,” Sasha replied with a faint smile. “Don’t feel responsible, Nath. He’s going to make it. He just needs his rest.”

  Nath nodded back. Moving away, he picked Rybek’s sword up off the cold stone floor. It was a magnificent weapon. The steel was smooth and polished so fine that he could see his reflection in it. The leather on the handle made for a fine grip, and the weight was near perfect in balance. He thumbed the edge. There wasn’t even a notch in it. He cast his eyes down at Rybek. “I bet you could chop down a stone tree with this.”

  Broad jaws clenching in his hard-featured face, Rybek nodded sideways at Brenwar and said to Nath, “No doubt it could chop down this stump of a man.” He leered. “In time, I’ll chop you down as well.”

  Brenwar popped Rybek in the forehead with his knuckles. The back of the man’s head smacked hard into the column of stone with a crack.

  Eyes squeezed shut, Rybek shook his head and spat.

  Nath said to Brenwar, “What did I say?”

  Puffing through his beard, Brenwar said, “I can’t help that. It’s instinct. Nobody threatens a dwarf.” He swung his war hammer from side to side. “Just let me knock his head off. We don’t need him to find your father.”

  Nath held his left hand up, palm out, and flipped Rybek’s sword around with his right wrist. He shuffle stepped and jabbed. Parried. Twirled.

  Rybek’s eyes followed every precise and quick move.

  Nath swished the blade through the air in a masterful display of the swordsman’s craft. “It’s an amazing blade, no doubt.” He chopped into the stone column just above Rybek’s head. Hunks of stone and dust fell on the man’s tattoo-covered head. “It really can hew through stone.”

  “Just imagine what it could do to a skull,” Brenwar added. “Heh-heh.”

  “You need to leave my blade alone, Nath Dragon.” There was an edge in Rybek’s voice. “Put it down.”

  Nath started banging the flat of the blade hard against the pillar. The sound echoed through the Temple of Spires. “Why, do you fear I might break it again?” With two hands, he smacked the blade hard into the stone.

  Bang!

  Rybek winced.

  Nath struck the stone again.

  Bang!

  “Stop that!” Rybek shouted.

  “Oh, I see someone is very fond of his blade.” Nath squatted down and said in Rybek’s ear, “Do you fear I might warp it?” He held it out for Rybek to see and turned the blade from side to side with his wrist. “It’s still straight, for now, but I notice an imperfection.”

  “There is none.”

  “I disagree.” Nath ran his fingernail over a hairline fracture just above the middle of the blade. “See that? It’s where I broke it before. It’s where I’ll break it again.”

  “If you break that blade, you’ll kill us all,” Rybek said.

  “I’m curious, Rybek. How did you manage to mend this sword so well?”

  “You fool. Eckubahn did it with his bare hands. Such power he has, it’s unrivaled. There might be a crack in the steel, but believe me, it’s stronger than ever.” Rybek’s dark, hollow eyes caressed the blade with a passion only a warrior could understand. “You and that cleaver of yours could never break it again.”

  “Is that so?” Nath asked with an unbelieving tone. He rose back up to full height. “I really find it hard to believe.” He waved Rybek’s sword back and forth like a conductor’s baton. “It’s out of balance.”

  “It was made for my hand, not yours.”

  “I see.” Nath rested it on his shoulde
r. “Why don’t you tell me where my father is, Rybek? It would be the right thing to do.”

  “I’ll tell you when you are dead.” Rybek glanced at each person in the room. “And that goes for the rest of you as well. Including the women.”

  Brenwar launched another punch.

  But Nath caught the dwarf by the meat of his upper arm. He changed places with Brenwar and turned loose a punch of his own. His fist connected with Rybek’s jaw, snapping his head to the side. “You overestimate my capacity to show mercy.”

  Rybek’s tongue fished through his mouth. He spat a bloody tooth out. “Perhaps I do. But mercy is your weakness. It’s your father’s, too. Eckubahn preys on it even as we speak.”

  Nath had to have some measure of faith in his father for knowing what he was doing, but the risk was so great, and his mother had warned him about his father taking those risks. He couldn’t just stand around and hope his father’s plan would work out. Deep down in his gut, he knew his father needed help.

  Strength comes in numbers.

  He stuck the sword tip first into the stone between Rybek’s legs. “As evil as you may be, you still fight by the warrior’s code of honor. How about one last fight, metal against metal? I win, you tell me where my father is. You win, I die.”

  Rybek lifted his head, sneering. “I’ll take it.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Balzurth arrived in another part of Nalzambor on his knees, trembling. The amulet had done more than just transport him. It had drained him, somehow. His stomach gurgled and moaned. His limbs were heavy.

  Chains rattled on his ankles, wrist, and neck.

  How did those get there? Clever.

  Balzurth lifted his hands up to his face. His scales were still midnight black, his clawed fingernails still sharp and golden yellow. He tossed his head. The flame-red hair cascaded over his shoulders.

  At least my disguise is intact.

  He surveyed his surroundings. He was outside in a misty smoke that covered jagged rocks. Colossal stones surrounded him in what looked to be the cold, dead mouth of a volcano. Somehow, sunlight illuminated the vast gap through the dimming gray mist. He rose to his feet and walked.

  The heavy chains scraped over the stone. The iron of the chains was dense, the kind fashioned by men with a heavy ore mined by the dwarves in Morgdon.

  It seems Eckubahn isn’t going to take any chances with me. Or Nath, rather.

  Balzurth walked outward until the chains brought him to a stop. He stretched them to their limit, about twenty feet, where they hung suspended, secured by the other end to a metal ring big enough to go around a horse’s neck. It was mounted to a huge slab of square-cut stone at least ten feet tall and just as wide. He strained his arms and legs against his metal bonds. They held fast, like extensions of the world itself. He backed up, letting the links go slack. “Huh.”

  Accompanied by the wind whistling through the cracks in the stone mountain that was now his prison, he sat down. Crossing his legs, he lowered his chin onto his fist and waited. Balzurth’s plan hadn’t turned out the way he had hoped. He’d figured on landing right before the king of the titans, Eckubahn himself. From there he’d meant to take it right to him. A full onslaught. One swift stroke. He wanted to end it quick in a final stand. One last battle. But it hadn’t happened the way he’d envisioned it. And that was a problem.

  Now time has become my enemy.

  With his clawed finger, he etched some patterns in the dirt and began to hum. His rich sound filled the expansive chamber. His thoughts landed on his son Nath. He was proud of Nath, what he’d done, how he’d overcome his trials and stayed faithful to the right cause. It hadn’t worked out that way with his other children. But Nath was special, and no doubt his youngest son would be trying to find him. Balzurth just hoped to end this war before his son arrived in the thick of it. Now was the time to save lives and put a stop to Eckubahn and his mad reign.

  I should have destroyed that titan when I had the chance. Let evil live and all it does is thrive.

  He eyed his claws.

  Next time I’ll put it out of our misery forever.

  Balzurth was still humming when a scuffle stirred the rocks. His keen dragon sight pierced the wavering mist. As he scanned the rock walls, the shapes of men formed in his eyes. These weren’t average men but the larger sort: giants. Their huge frames eased between the rocks as they moved. Given the mist, the average person wouldn’t detect them, but Balzurth could see all sorts. Mighty limbs came to life on legs of iron. They were fifteen feet tall and shaggy headed. Their noses were broad and flat.

  And then their moans and huffs echoed through the strange canyon. On giant feet, they came forward, shaking the ground and surrounding Balzurth.

  “I was wondering where the smell came from,” said Balzurth in the guise and style of Nath as he counted their faces. There were fifteen of the monstrous men. They were bestial and savage, yet there was cunning in their beady eyes. Cruelty. “You know, Nalzambor is full of lakes you could bathe in. The fish might not like it—actually, they wouldn’t like it—but the deep waters are said to take the stench out of anything. I know a great place I’d be happy to show you. It’s just below—”

  A powerful, echoing voice split the air.

  “SILENCE!”

  A giant emerged from the ranks. He was a head taller than the rest, more man than monster, with a green fire in his eyes. He was adorned in dragon skins hung like armor over his brawny shoulders and part of his chest. Bones rattled on his neck. Dragon bones and teeth. A belt fashioned from the same white bones hung from his waist. His head was mostly bald, and what hair he did have formed a long ponytail.

  Balzurth rose with fire in his eyes. His heart thundered behind his breast. The atrocity enraged him. Many dragons had died to make this arrangement. Good ones. Blues, greens, and even a gold. It was just like the horrifying message the giants had sent to Dragon Home. A dragon’s corpse. Broken. Mangled. Balzurth strained against the chains. “Who are you that defiles my kindred?”

  “I am the spirit Isobahn, brethren of Eckubahn, the king.” He stomped the ground.

  Thoom!

  Balzurth lost his footing and dropped to his knees.

  “You will bow in my presence.”

  As much as he abhorred to do so, Balzurth fought back his commanding voice, popped up again, and continued in Nath’s voice with a defiant tone. “I will not!”

  Isobahn nodded his tremendous square-cut chin.

  The other giants converged on Balzurth. Taking turns, they swatted, punched, stomped, and shoved him between their ranks. The blows were hard and heavy. The giants giggled like maniacal children. They tugged at his chains. Jerked him off his feet, dangled him, and patted at him like cats playing with a ball of string.

  It was futile, but he fought back as best he could in Nath’s form and chained. “You’ll pay for this!” Balzurth yelled. Shaking his fist, he yelled even louder. “You’ll all pay!”

  By the chains, a giant swung him hard into the stone to which he was tethered.

  Wham!

  Balzurth absorbed all of the punishment he could endure. He couldn’t break his cover. He just hoped his body could hold up, but his magic hadn’t ever been drained before, so he didn’t know how long he would need to rest before enough magic came back for him to change into his dragon form.

  It could take years. Years of sleep! Let’s hope not.

  He took several more lumps.

  Now I know how Nath must feel.

  The beating continued until all of his physical strength faded. It stopped when he was face down and bleeding in the dirt. Two of the giants unhooked his chains from the stone pillar. By the chains still linked to his body, they dragged him over the hard ground through a slit in the rocks into the darkness.

  Scraping along, he regained his feet—only to be jerked down again. It was futile. Miserable. They strung him along, and he had no idea where he was going.

  CHAPTER 3

  “Ca
n you move any faster?” Rerry said, looking over his shoulder at his brother. “A one-legged orc could pass you!”

  Samaz hobbled up the path. They’d managed to make their escape from the dungeon hours ago, but his legs were like noodles. “I’m pacing myself.”

  “Ah, pacing yourself. Makes perfect sense for a pair of men trying to escape.” Rerry pushed some low-hanging branches aside and waited for his brother.

  Samaz ambled up the incline.

  Rerry let loose the branch, which slapped his brother in the face. “And let’s hope our pursuers are pacing themselves as well.”

  Samaz slunk under the branches. “You have such an annoying way with things.” He laughed.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I don’t know, you just look funny with a metal almond on your head.” Samaz peeled off his own elven helmet and chucked it aside. “I can only imagine how silly I must look.”

  “You always look silly.” Rerry picked Samaz’s helmet up. “Now put this back on. We need to blend in, just in case we run into anybody. Now you blend, you bulging misfit.”

  With a huff, Samaz took the helmet, but he didn’t put it back on. “I’ll carry it for now.”

  Mocking him, Rerry said, “I’ll carry it for now.”

  For some reason, the banter that had gone on and on between them since birth lightened Samaz’s spirits. Some strength returned, and he pressed on, keeping pace while his brother navigated the woodland like one of the forest’s own creatures.

  Ahead, Rerry was a strapping figure of grace and warriorhood. Adorned in the elven armor with his light hair spilling out from under his helmet, Rerry carried the look of a soldier quite well. Light footed, he moved on top of the stumps, fallen trees, and flat rocks, careful to avoid leaving any kind of trail.

  In truth, neither of them had much experience in the woodland, but it came naturally to them, unlike it did to their father, Bayzog. And they had less elf in them than their father did, which was odd.

  “What do you make of Captain Scar imprisoning us? Or any of the elves doing so? They swarmed us. They threw us in a dungeon.” Rerry adjusted his helmet. “It’s so hard to get used to this thing. As I was saying, what do you make of that? Elves aren’t supposed to imprison elves.”