Sasha had dark rings around her eyes. She wasn’t the only one, either. Ben, Rerry, and Samaz were all yawning and shivering as they spread their fingers over the fire. They hadn’t stopped since they started.
Selene knew that unlike her and Brenwar, they needed rest. “Feel free to scout ahead with the elves if you like, Brenwar. I’m more than glad to keep company here.”
Dusting his hands off, Brenwar said, “I don’t know which would be worse, sitting still with part elves or roaming around with full elves.” He grumbled. “I suppose I’ll stay here. You probably need me to keep the fire going anyway.”
***
Sansla Libor ducked into the woodland. He’d made headway north toward the orcen land of Thraag. The roamers, along with fifty of the elven finest, hid among the vegetation. Wurmers flew through the skies. The twirling Ree-Rah sound was a dead giveaway when the foul creatures passed.
The elves popped up from their spots.
Shum and Liam returned from scouting ahead. “The orcen lands are barren of soldiers,” Shum said, untangling some briars that snagged his ankle. “People go about their business with toothy smiles on their faces. Their hogs are full of fat. They eat well.”
Sansla gave Hoven a nod.
He sped off with two of the other roamers, taking lengthy strides until they vanished over the knolls. They’d traveled day and night without stopping. They opted not to use horses. With a group as skilled as this, it was easy to blend into the rolling fabric of the land.
“Let’s keep moving then. Quickly. If the orcs get wind of us, they’ll come by the thousands.” He lifted his arm and motioned forward. “Onward.”
CHAPTER 23
The elven soldiers stopped their advance at the base of the mountain range north of Morgdon. Brenwar and Ben caught up with Eslin. The elven commander was concealed in a grove with a few others. Their eyes were fixed on a break in the branches that gave a full few of the mountains.
Under his breath, Brenwar said, “Are there enemies afoot?”
“Perhaps. We caught sight of someone—or something—moving along the base. It was just a glimpse that one of my men reported.” Eslin craned his neck. “There hasn’t been any movement since we saw it.”
“Maybe it was a mountain cat,” Brenwar suggested. “The hills are thick with such creatures.”
“Or it could have been a dragon,” Ben suggested.
“No, my men would know. They’ve known many dragons and hunted more than their fair share of varmints. They have a sense of things. It moved as men move.” Eslin drew an arrow from his quiver and held it in his teeth for a moment while he readied a bow made from short limbs with a gentle recurve at the top. “Whoever it is spotted us at the same time we spotted him. He’s crafty. My men and I will handle him.”
“Don’t go hustling off anywhere just yet,” Brenwar said. “I can track better than most.”
“I’m no slouch either.” Ben unhooked Akron. Snap. Clatch. Snap. He notched a moorite arrow.
Eslin’s slender eyes widened. “That is a marvelous thing.”
“Akron shoots better than he looks,” Ben said with a wink.
“Apologies, I seem to have underestimated my present company.” Eslin stepped aside. “Please, lead. I’ll follow.”
With his eyes ahead, Brenwar took off in the direction that Eslin pointed out.
There weren’t any tracks in the snow leading up to the pine trees that made a skirt at the base of the mountains.
Pointing at a break in the trees where an avalanche of rock had come down decades ago, Brenwar gave Eslin a glance.
The elf nodded.
Staying low, Brenwar ambled forward, quiet as a cat.
Slipping into the trees, the three of them fanned out, putting ten feet between them. Making a search line, they headed forward.
Brenwar took a knee. He found a boot heel print that had dug a soft spot in a bed of pine needles. He brushed the needles aside with his fingers. The print was man-sized. Someone had come through this way. It was just a matter of flushing them out. With Mortuun on his shoulder, he got up and angled toward the mountain’s snow-covered base.
Eslin and Ben moved toward the rock slide. There were portals between the stones all over, big enough for a bear to hibernate in. He watched for the longest time. They vanished into the rocks.
If there’s a trap in there, they’re going to spring it. I’ll just wait for it.
Several minutes later, Ben and Eslin emerged from different holes. Ben waved at Brenwar and shrugged.
Whoever it was, they must have moved on.
Brenwar set Mortuun down on the hammer’s head and leaned the handle against a tree. He took a knee again and started tightening the laces on his boot. Something wasn’t right. He could feel eyes on his back. Weaponless, he moved back down the slope of trees. Neither Ben nor Eslin was looking at him, but he waved them over. When he turned around to retrieve Mortuun, he found a sword tip at his neck.
“Be careful. You might poke a dwarf’s eye out with that,” Brenwar said. The blackened steel in the armored man’s fist was razor sharp. The warrior appeared more than capable of using it. “I’d hate to lose my eye. That would be fatal—for you, that is.” Brenwar snatched the blade with his skeleton hand, locking his fingers tight as a vise.
The warrior tugged on his weapon’s handle with two hands.
Brenwar wrenched the blade away as if the strong man had the strength of a toddler. “You have some explaining to do, vandal. He tossed the blade aside. “Out with it!”
Another voice came out of nowhere. “Perhaps he just doesn’t like dwarves. Based off my experience, they are exceedingly difficult.”
Brenwar’s lips moved like a fish making bubbles as soon as Bayzog stepped into full view. “Uurluuk’s beard! It can’t be. You must be a shade!”
Eslin crept up behind Bayzog with an arrow pointed at his back. “Say the word, Brenwar, and I’ll drop him.”
Ben emerged with eyes filled with excitement. “No! No! Certainly not. It’s Bayzog.”
“Don’t be a fool, Ben. You saw Bayzog die. You were there when we buried him.” Brenwar’s brow furrowed. “You play games that you shouldn’t play, shade. I’ll turn you inside out for it.”
Hands up, Bayzog said, “I don’t know what you think happened to me, but you of all dwarves should know you can’t rid yourself of me so easily. I live. You’ll just have to adjust to it.”
Ben approached with a weird smile hanging on his face. “I know it’s you even though it can’t be you. How is this possible?”
“It’s a long story, but I can explain.”
Brenwar looked Rip up and down. “I suppose you’re his alibi?”
“Yes, of course, son of Balor Bolderguild. I’m friends with your father.”
“That’s impossible.”
“I can prove it. Do you see that sword? Check the mark on it.”
Brenwar retrieved the blade made of blackened steel. He eyed a small dwarven smith stamp practically hidden in the pommel. “This is the sword of Rip Tippy! He died when I was a child.”
“At your service—and I disappeared, actually.”
Brenwar kept the sword. He turned toward Bayzog. The part elf’s violet eyes said it all. The last Bayzog had been him, but off and somewhat strange. Brenwar had thought perhaps the spirits possessed him. “Well, there’s only one way to know for sure. We’ll take you to camp, cut you open, and see what’s inside.”
“I didn’t miss your irrational way of thinking.”
Brenwar led the way back to the others.
They were all huddled together less than a mile away near a small overgrown village. Selene, Sasha, and Rerry stood behind a shack out of the wind. The mother and her sons were bundled up in their robes. “I have a prisoner,” Brenwar said, fighting back his own tears. “He says he knows you, but I’m not so sure.”
Sasha gasped. Tears swelled in her eyes. On feet as fleet as a deer’s, she tackled Bayzog, kissing him a
ll over.
Rerry and Samaz piled on.
Brenwar wiped the corner of his eye. He caught Ben looking. “You didn’t see that.”
CHAPTER 24
Nath picked his way through the woodland with the quiet ease of a fawn. His senses were tuned to the creatures and varmints that thrived in thickets and red ferns—now burrowed in away from the cold and the invasion of evil. That made things a little more difficult for him. He hoped to exercise some of the powers he’d gained. He felt stronger in many ways. One of these was his connection with the natural world.
Soldiers approached. Their footfalls cracked fallen twigs.
Nath slid into the gap where an elm tree had split into a V-shape.
Three gnolls wearing furs and skins were patrolling the area. They carried hatchets fit for their hands. Their yellow eyes had a moody wink of evil to them. The leader, the biggest, carried a flail with a spiked ball and chain.
Gnolls, huh, I haven’t seen their like in quite some time. One spitball would set the three of them on fire.
One of the gnolls started sniffing the air. His hard stare searched the trees. Like many of the fouler races, gnolls had a strong sense of smell. They were part bloodhound.
“What is it?” one of the gnolls said to the other with piqued curiosity.
“There’s something odd in the air. It lingers.” The gnoll’s eyes bore right into the tree Nath was standing behind. “See? There, do you see it?”
Nath stiffened. It wasn’t a matter of fear. He could cut the gnolls down in an instant, but he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. That wasn’t the only thing bothering him. The gnolls shouldn’t be able to pick up his scent. It was one of his gifts. It took a nose far keener than a gnoll’s to pick up a whiff of him.
The gnolls eased forward.
The leader said to the other two on either side of him in a low voice, “Do you not see it? There, among the branches.”
The gnolls leaned forward with their eyes fastened on Nath’s spot. All of a sudden, “Whack!” The leader smacked his two men on the backs of their heads. “Har, har, har!” the leader said, clutching his belly. “You hounds fall for that every time!”
The gnolls drew their hatchets back. “We should turn you into stew.”
The leader was still laughing. “You’re welcome to try, but you’ll only embarrass yourselves.”
The snarling gnolls jammed their hatchets into their belts. “It’s time to end our patrol, is it not? Let’s return. I’m looking forward to watching the giants sacrifice that dragon.”
“Har, yes. Perhaps we’ll get some more of those scales. Let’s go then, stupids.”
Nath’s fingernails dug through the bark on the tree. His blood boiled.
They had better not be sacrificing a dragon.
He drew a deep breath.
Calm yourself, Dragon. Be wise, not hasty.
The gnolls moved on, disappearing among the trees but leaving footfalls a deaf orc could hear.
While he gathered his composure, something perplexed Nath. The gnolls had been looking right at him, and even he was surprised they hadn’t seen him.
And then he noticed a change in his scales. They had changed colors to those of the bark, like he was some sort of chameleon. He pulled his hand away from the tree. The scales blackened. Nath smiled. He could change his colors again. Perhaps there were even more things he could do.
I should have spent more time with Father when I was young.
Nath shadowed the gnolls as far as he could. He took shelter in the forest and garnered a closer look at things.
The ziggurat was a tremendous block building. There were six levels. From top to bottom, wurmers and soldiers of the titan army crawled along the walls like ants. A huge staircase ran right up the middle. A sacrificial altar of stone was at the top. Earth giant sentries stood watch by it with their hairy arms hanging at their sides. Snow covered their shoulders.
The Ruins of Barnabus was one name for the fallen place. Long ago it had been a hive of evil, where men, beasts, and even dragons were sacrificed. As the legend went, it was Barnabus, Nath’s father in human form, who took the temple of the wicked down. Now, it thrived with new life.
Regardless, Nath’s heart swelled. It gave him comfort knowing that not so long ago, his father had called himself Barnabus and walked the world much like he did now.
We both trod the same ground.
Nath watched the gnolls take a path to the bottom of the ziggurat. They reported to a nuurg, who pointed them through an archway. They vanished inside. A few minutes later, another patrol party came out in full gear. It was three orcs and a pair of goblins. They marched right by Nath’s position.
If I could get inside that ziggurat, I bet I could find the wurmer hive. A disguise, perhaps.
Sansla had never said with absolute certainty that the wurmer hive was within, but he’d reported what he saw. Baby wurmers by the hundreds pouring out. Nath had no doubt this was it. The ziggurat was the perfect stronghold for a hive.
A few minutes later, the ziggurat stirred with new activity. Wild cries and shouts went up. Soldiers pounded their weapons on their shields. On the northern end of the ziggurat, a bare-chested nuurg carried a bound copper dragon in his arms.
Great Guzan, no!
The nuurg had a headdress made from dragon bones, shiny scales, and talons that hung down over his shoulders. He was flanked by two ogres dressed much like him. Together, they began a long, slow march up the steps.
Nath drew Fang. His breath quickened. He squeezed the grip tight. He wasn’t about to witness another dragon die. Not like this. The dragons had lost enough already. He wouldn’t stand by and watch any casualties he could prevent.
Think, Nath. Not with your heart but with your mind.
The nuurg moved up the steps at a very slow, ceremonial pace. The ree-rahs of the wurmers started up in a steady rhythm. Somewhere on top of the ziggurat, kettledrums were beat.
On impulse, Nath hustled into the forest and came upon the orc and goblin patrol. He slipped in behind the goblins and banged their heads together.
The orcs turned. They launched into an attack.
Nath’s fist smote their jaws like lightning. Wap! Wap! Wap!
All three of them hit the ground at the same time.
With his wings collapsed into leathery pods on his back, Nath donned the biggest orc’s armor and furs. He removed Dragon Claw from Fang and stuck the magnificent sword inside a hollowed-out tree trunk. His scales changed from black to the green-hued orcen ruddy skin. His red hair turned brown. He tucked Dragon Claw under his skins, took the path out of the forest, and entered the excited crowd, pushing his way up the steps after the copper dragon.
CHAPTER 25
“So it’s as you say.” Rip combed his beard. “I’d hoped to go back to Quintuklen and see for myself. I wanted to… oh, surprise the legionnaires.”
Bayzog had fully reunited with his family and friends. They’d all resumed the journey west up the mountains, ankle deep in snow.
Walking side by side with Rip, Ben said, “Wonders never cease in this world. I’ve seen the most amazing spectacles. Now, I witness a legionnaire brought back from a grave five hundred years old.”
“I have a grave?” Rip said.
“More of a memorial, actually. There’s even a statue of your likeness. That’s why I was so shocked when I saw you. I knew your story well. I was a legionnaire myself, long ago.”
“Once a legionnaire, ever the fair.”
“I don’t know, I was young and got caught up in some sordid business. Not my doing, but I lost my rank.” Ben pushed a snowy pine branch aside and allowed Rip to step through.
“Sounds like politics, the soldier’s worst enemy. I can tell you’re good salt, Ben. No worries from me. I just wish to see Quintuklen standing tall again. I’ve missed that grand city.” He tapped his heart with his fist. “I long for the faces of my family. They’re long gone now, I suppose. I’m an old ghost,
bereft of legacy.”
“Look at you, five hundred years old and you appear to be a decade younger than me. You can start a new legacy. I did after I lost my family the first time around. I’m neck deep in this fight to see that it doesn’t happen again.”
Rip squeezed his shoulder. “Your words encourage me, Ben. Together, we’ll send these devils to the pits. Tell me more.”
Ben explained everything to Rip, from the arrival of the titans to the fall of Dragon Home. He saved the last part about Balzurth dying. Rip didn’t seem to understand.
“You’re telling me that Barnabus was actually Balzurth the Dragon King? I’m still having difficulty with that. Barnabus was such an amazing person, though, that perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised. I was young when he and I met. He certainly managed feats that were extraordinary to me. This one time, we slipped into Thraag posing as a pair of orcen maidens.” Rip guffawed. “I couldn’t believe he talked me into it, but he did. Oh, it seems like yesterday, it really does. I’d love to see him in his full glory. You tell me his scales and bones rot in the arena at Narnum. That sickens me. I say we undo what has been done.”
“We tried that,” Brenwar interjected. The surly dwarf plowed through the snow and caught up with them. “And I’m all for going back, but now we’re going after Nath. Apparently, our friend Bayzog has information that he doesn’t care to share with us. Typical. Just keep marching and keep the yapping down. Those frozen overhangs can be sensitive.”
“Apparently they aren’t the only sensitive thing around here,” Ben remarked.
Rip chuckled.
“Don’t start with me, Ben.” Brenwar surged ahead.
“He’s a chip off the old anvil, that one is,” Rip said. “Very much like his father, Balor.” Ben and Rip guarded the rear with a handful of the elves.
The elven guard led them through a pass in the mountains. It wound a thousand feet up slippery trails before leveling off on a plateau that was miles of snow-covered fields. The elves fanned out, forming a wedge, with their faces down in the harsh winds that tore at their hair and clothing.
Power of the Dragon (The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 9 of 10): Dragon Fantasy Series (Tail of the Dragon) Page 8