“Yes. And you’ve killed two, so now there’ll be eight. They stay in at night and make plenty of noise in the morning. But they aren’t alone in there. They keep our people, who need to be freed.”
“Oh.” Nath noticed Brenwar’s eyes on him. “That changes things.”
“Aye,” Brenwar said. His eyes were intent on the nuurg fortress. “We can’t just storm in there and bust their bones up. We’ll have to be more careful. I don’t like being careful.”
The nuurg sentry crunched through the bone, chewed it up, and swallowed it down.
“I suppose the nuurg expect company before long.” Nath readied the satchel he’d put the contents from Brenwar’s chest in. “We should just give them what they expect then.” He took out a potion vial. A tangerine-colored fluid swirled within.
Tim’s eyes enlarged. “Is that magic? What are you going to do with it?”
“I’m going to make Brenwar drink it.”
“No you are not!” the dwarf objected.
“Well, I’m not drinking it, and I’m in charge, so there you go.”
“What does it do?” Tim asked.
“It’s a polymorph potion. It will turn you into whatever you want to be, for a short time.” Nath held the vial up against the sky. Mystic fragments twinkled within. “The idea is Brenwar drinks it and turns himself into one of the nuurg. As a disguise. He waltzes me in there as his—”
“I’ll drink it! Let me drink it!” Tim’s fingers grasped at the air.
“Aye, let him drink it. He’s volunteering for it. Let the soldier have at it.” Brenwar pumped his skeleton fist. “It’s a good idea.”
“But they’ll be expecting two nuurg, not one,” Nath said.
“You didn’t say that.”
“We have to do it right if we want to pull this off.”
“What do I do?” Tim asked.
“Think of the nuurg that come into your town. The one I slew. Can you picture it?”
Tim nodded.
Nath handed the legionnaire the vial. “Then drink half of this and concentrate on its image.”
Without hesitation, Tim took the vial and slurped half of it down then handed the vial back to Nath. “I tingle.”
“Oh, you’ll tingle,” Nath said. He gave the vial to Brenwar and sat behind him. “Your turn, faithful friend.”
“Hah.” Brenwar frowned, closed his eyes, and swallowed the remainder of the potion. “Happy?”
“Delighted.” Nath dismounted.
“Oh my stars,” Tim said. His hands were outstretched. He gaped at them. The man’s body contorted and grew. His face became mean and ugly. His body filled the saddle. In mere moments he’d gone from man to man-monster. His one eye blinked. “Did it work?”
“Perfectly.” Nath turned to Brenwar. The dwarf was now a nuurg like the one he’d slain, but something wasn’t right. “We might have a problem.”
“You can say that again. I look like an orc again. A giant one at that.”
“That’s not it. The problem is you still have more beard than face.”
CHAPTER 23
Transformed into nuurg, Brenwar and Tim rode on the wrath horns. They took a road that led straight to the fortress with Nath in tow behind them, hands bound up by a rope.
Brenwar grumbled under his beard, “I even smell as bad as they do.” He caught Tim smiling and glowered at the man-turned-giant. “The nuurg don’t smile.”
“I can’t help it. I still tingle.”
“Nath, what do I do if they say something about my beard? Can I bash them then?” asked Brenwar.
“I don’t know. Let’s hope it doesn’t come up.” It wasn’t that the nuurg didn’t have facial hair. Many of them had plenty, but not to the extent it looked like a black bush beneath their faces.
“I can do the talking,” Tim suggested. “I’ve communicated with them plenty of times before. I have a feel for them.”
Brenwar drifted back and said, “That’s fine by me.”
Closing in on the fortress, Nath caught a glimpse of the nuurg sentry. It tossed the stag’s antlers aside and picked up its spear, barring the gate that led into the fortress with its body.
Tim and his wrath horn came to a stop several feet away from the sentry. He didn’t say a word. The sentry didn’t say a word either. Its single eye bore into Tim. Spear ready, it moved by Tim and gave Brenwar a longer look. Brenwar glared right back. With a grunt, the heavy-footed cyclops made it over to Nath. A bunch of men’s skulls made up its belt.
Here we go.
The cyclops stood a full three feet of muscle taller than Nath. It leaned down, nostrils flaring, and sniffed him. With its finger, it poked Nath in the chest, knocking him down.
Nath got up but kept his eyes down and didn’t say a word.
The nuurg poked him harder.
Nath shuffled back without falling.
Someone’s going to lose a finger!
“Quit fooling around with the prisoner! Let us in. I hunger,” Tim said.
The nuurg sentry touched Nath’s cheek with its fingers and said, “He’s pretty like a bauble. I want his head. Humph. That hair would look fine on my belt.”
“We’ll cast bones to see who gets what. Now open the door,” Brenwar interjected.
The sentry waggled the spear in front of Nath’s eyes. “I bet those eyes would make a fine seasoning for people stew.” He breathed on Nath.
Nath coughed.
Sultans of Sulfur, that’s awful.
The cyclops walked away. A pair of twelve-foot-high doors still barred the entrance to the fortress. The brute put its back into it and shoved both doors open wide. With a quick look back at Nath, Tim the nuurg led them inside.
The fortress wasn’t very big. Square and straight on all sides, it would house about fifty men in close quarters—or ten nuurg. The middle was an open courtyard, and the rest of the establishment was nothing but barracks and stables.
The nuurg sentry made its way over to one of the barracks. It was taller than the doorframe. The nuurg pounded on it with its fist, saying, “Bruke! Bruke! Wake! A meal awaits!” The sentry stepped back.
A loud moan stirred within the confines of the wooden barracks. The door swung open, smacking against the frame of the building with a loud whack. A big body filled the doorway, ducked down, and squeezed beneath the frame. It was a nuurg, a huge one-eyed orc with small knuckle-like horns on its head. Bare chested, but furs and hides covered it below the waist. “Why did you disturb me? What is it?”
At least they speak Common.
“What do you mean?” the sentry said, irritated. It pointed with its spear. “See for yourself.”
Bruke rubbed his eye and yawned. He peered beyond Tim and Brenwar. Spying Nath, he blinked. Warily, he leaned over and grabbed a halberd that was leaned against the barracks. “That one is too fast to be fooled.” He gave Tim and Brenwar a look. “How did you catch that one?”
“Caught him hiding. Hemmed him in and overpowered him.” Tim shifted in his saddle. “He’s slippery. Not slippery enough. Heh heh.”
In a fierce voice, Bruke said, “There was mention of a dwarf. Where’s the dwarf?”
Brenwar the nuurg held up Mortuun the war hammer. “Dead by his own hammer.”
Studying Brenwar and the weapon, Bruke said, “Something smells about your story.”
More of the nuurg emerged from their barracks. Each carried a heavy weapon crafted from iron and steel. In a few long strides, they had encircled Nath and his companions.
Nath counted heads.
…Six, seven, eight. The full welcoming party has arrived. Unless Tim’s count is wrong.
He noted the faces of people crowded back in the shadows of the barracks. He felt their hearts racing.
These people are terrified.
“I don’t remember you having a beard,” Bruke said to Brenwar the nuurg. “And where’s your weapon?”
“It got lost in a mud hole, but this one is fine.” He held the hammer in fr
ont of Bruke’s face. “Just fine.”
Bruke’s nostrils widened. His shoulders tensed. “You don’t talk like yourself. You don’t smell like yourself. You smell…dwarven.”
Nath caught a look from Brenwar. He gave a quick nod.
“Do you want to know why I smell like a dwarf?” Brenwar said.
The nuurg sentry said with confidence, “Because you killed one.”
“No,” Brenwar replied. “Because I am one!” Powered by his bracers of strength, the dwarf-turned-nuurg cranked Mortuun back and dotted Bruke smack dab in the middle of the forehead.
Crack-Boom!
The entire fortress shook.
Bruke dropped to his knees. Knuckles dragging on the ground, the nuurg collapsed backward, dead as a stone.
Timothy wheeled his wrath horn around and snapped the reins. The bestial mount charged over the nuurg nearest him, horns down with ram-like force.
The flat-footed nuurg recovered their senses. Two of them focused their efforts on Nath. They rushed him.
“Brenwar!” Nath yelled. “I need Fang!”
The dwarven warrior in nuurg form had another nuurg pinned down to the ground by the neck. He bellowed, “Get him yourself.”
The nuurg collided right on top of Nath and drove him into the ground.
This is not part of the plan!
CHAPTER 24
While Tim was turning the wrath horn around for another charge, a huge body collided into him, knocking him from the saddle. He barrel rolled back up to his feet, sword poised to strike or defend against his attacker. His sword, a fine broad blade, didn’t fit in his hand as it usually did. It was awkward but light as a stick. He slashed back and forth.
I can make this work.
He took in a deep breath. His body was alive, more so than it had been in decades. His muscles were strong and powerful.
“Oh, what a body!”
A nuurg fighter wheeled into his path. It held a flail with both its hands and swung it over its head. The steel-spiked ball whistled through the air in wide circles. The nuurg rushed in, bringing the flail head down with wroth force.
Tim caught the chain of the flail around the length of his sword.
The pair of giants stood chest to chest, shoving one another back, snarling and growling.
The nuurg enemy puffed and spun.
Struggling for balance, feet sliding through the dirt, Tim held on for dear life. The monster was strong. Fierce. Its force unrelenting. He’d never faced such power before.
Come on, soldier. You’re as big as him. Act like it.
Hard knuckles punched Tim in the ribs.
He groaned. His body might have been as big or as strong, but he wasn’t used to it. The size was awkward.
The nuurg bent him backward. Its shovel-sized hand fell to a knife inside its belt. It snaked it out and tried to stab Tim.
With combat experience coming back to him, Tim locked his fingers over the monster’s wrist.
The blade edge nicked his flesh.
The old fires of battle within Tim ignited. He rammed his forehead into the nuurg’s nose.
The cartilage gave way.
Crunch.
The nuurg bellowed. Its grip released its flail. It held its nose.
Big mistake.
Tim slung the flail from his sword and closed in, piercing the nuurg right through its heart.
It dropped dead.
He hoisted the sword high. “Victory!”
A nuurg with two eyes close set together rushed into his path with a machete matched to its size and body.
Flashing his sword, Tim said, “Have at me then! I’ve got a body as big as yours, and now I’m used to it!”
His stomach churned.
He belched.
His body collapsed to its normal size.
***
With two colossal bodies piled on top of him, no sword in hand, Nath fought back with the only available weapon he could think of. He bit the one-eyed nuurg in the leg.
With an angry howl, it punched him in the side of the head.
Stars burst forth.
Nath’s teeth clattered.
The one-eyed nuurg grabbed a handful of Nath’s long red hair and jerked Nath up off his feet—and practically out of his boots.
“Now you’ve done it!” Nath said, kicking and flailing. “Nobody touches my hair!” He dug his golden-yellow claws into the flesh of the giant’s hand and raked them down.
One-eye moaned and released him, but Two-eye stabbed at him with a knife made from a solid piece of iron.
Nath sprang from the strike. He jumped at the giant orc and punched it hard in the throat.
Two-eye choked and gurgled, but One-eye charged from behind, swinging its anvil-like fist.
Nath ducked.
The fist collided with the choking nuurg, flopping it to the ground.
Nath unleashed a flurry of punches in One-eye’s heavy gut, hard and fast. The nuurg might have been bigger and heavier than him, but they weren’t any stronger. He was a dragon who just looked like a man. Well, and had to walk like a man rather than fly. He hit as fast as his heart beat.
One-eye crumbled under the assault.
Nath wrenched its arm behind its back and called out, “Brenwar, I need Fang!”
“Hold yer horses! I’m coming!” Brenwar had resumed his normal form.
“Don’t you mean hold your wrath horns?”
Brenwar dashed his war hammer against the head of the nuurg.
Nath punched it in the throat.
Whop!
Brenwar marched over and said, “Hold him still, will you?”
“Are you serious?”
“No.” The dwarf cocked back and smote the wriggling giant in the skull.
Neither giant moved again. The nuurg lay scattered in heaps all over the courtyard.
“Where’s Tim?” Nath said. A scuffle caught his ear.
Tim was pushing himself out from under a nuurg’s big body. With his legs still pinned beneath the giant, he held up his sword and said breathlessly, “Victory.”
Regaining his feet, Nath rolled his sore jaw and combed his fingers through his hair.
Four, five, six, seven …
“We’re missing a nuurg, the sentry with the skulls for a belt.”
Outside the fortress, the shrill sound of a metal whistle ripped through the sky.
Nath rushed out the front gate.
The sentry stood there blowing an iron whistle the size of a curled ram’s horn.
“I’ll stop him!” Brenwar slung Mortuun head first into the nuurg’s chest. Bone cracked. It hit the ground. He ran over and tore the whistle from the wheezing nuurg’s hands. “What is this for?”
With a smile on its crooked lips, the nuurg said, “They come.”
Against the deep blue sky with their black wings, the wurmers came like great bats of the night.
CHAPTER 25
“Incoming, eh? Well, I’m still itching to fight. Let them come. Let them all come.” Brenwar moved away from Nath, twirling Mortuun around his body and yelling into the sky, “I’m right here, insects!”
Timothy lumbered over, shoulders sagging. He had his shoulder in one hand and Fang in the other. Blinking, he looked up in the sky. “It’s like my old soldiering days. Never enough time to catch your breath between the battles.” He took a deep breath. “I can still do this.”
Nath took Fang. “Not with ordinary steel you won’t. They have hides hard as iron, Tim. Get inside with the others and take cover.”
Tim nodded. “If it weren’t coming from you, Dragon Prince, my pride wouldn’t let me retreat, but I’ll follow your order.” He took another look above. The wurmers dove like black lances in the night sky. “Yes sir, I’ll follow your orders.”
Fang warmed in the palm of Nath’s hand. The blade hummed with angry life.
Me and you, Fang. Me and you.
The swarming wurmers closed in. There looked to be ten of them, a hundred yards aw
ay. Fifty yards.
Nath and Brenwar cocked back.
Something whistled overhead. With blinding speed, streaks of silver slammed into the oncoming wurmers. It was a collision of scales followed by roars of fury. Dragon fury.
Nath’s heart wanted to burst from his chest.
Silver dragons. Man sized, quick, and powerful. Their claws shredded the wurmers. They clamped onto the insect-dragons. Tore off wings. Locked jaws on necks.
The stunned wurmers shrieked and spun out of control.
Several wurmers hit the ground.
Nath and Brenwar, quick to strike, pounded them with hammer and sword.
Above, the battle raged like fireworks in the sky. Light coursed through the bodies of the silver dragons, shocking the wurmers. The monsters fought back with their hot, glowing breath. Blasts of deep purple erupted from their mouths in balls of energy. The silver dragons slid by the attack, quicker than the wind.
One silver dragon, marvelous from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail, locked up in battle with the biggest wurmer. The dragon’s tail coiled around the wurmer’s neck, and its body charged like living light. Lightning fired from its mouth. The wurmer exploded. Smoldering scales showered the sky. A burnt, crispy smell lingered in the air.
Standing back to back with Brenwar, Nath said, “They’re dead. All of the wurmers are dead.” He blinked. “Those silvers really wiped them out.” A couple more wurmers dropped dead from the sky. “Cloudy with a chance of wurmers.”
The silver dragons circled like a spinning windmill.
Nath waved. “I guess this is the part where they save us and leave us. It would be great if once, just once, they’d stick around long enough for me to thank them.”
“Aye.” Brenwar gave a dwarven salute. He pumped his fist and thumped his chest. “Unlike you, they’re not much for talking.”
Nath eyed him.
Brenwar shrugged.
The circle of dragons broke. In a V formation, wings flapping in unison, they shot off toward the moon. All except for one. He landed, the biggest of the group. The leader. His lean, serpentine body clung low to the ground. His long neck undulated like a fish’s body.
Flight of the Dragon (The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 5 of 10) (Tail of the Dragon) Page 9