All Worlds: Fantasy And Science Fiction Series Starters

by Vangjel Canga

  “Gar, these violators stole what would have fed us this sun’s cycle and the next two. What do they possess that could compensate?”

  “I don’t know, Tusk. They possess work animals, but we don’t eat flesh, and they are too small for us to ride.” Gar reasoned, “If they stole the eggs, they probably don’t have enough food to replace what they ate.” The Dreadgon paused and then he spoke, “They did say they are strangers here, and I don’t recognize their kind. I see one option that will settle this...”

  “I agree,” Tusk interrupted before Gar finished.

  The other Dreadgons murmured their agreement.

  Gar cleared his throat and shouted, “You are wise outlander, but you possess nothing we want. Only blood will satisfy our dispute.”

  Han glared at the Morgog Commander as he yelled, “They are going to kill us for the eggs your men stole!”

  Avarice snarled, nudging his steed forward and then he spoke, “We shall see about that.” Vim and the Morgog Cavalry followed.

  Quip climbed down the tree and jumped on Han’s horse, tugging on the High Guard’s red cape and then told him, “Dreadgons no fight. Ask Blood Pledge, promise you’ll remain off land. Customary among jungle dwellers.”

  “An oath?” Han repeated and then his eyes widened as he shouted, “Commander wait!” He kicked his horse and rode toward the other commander. “Hold your men.”

  “Fass! You Fletching are mongrels!” Avarice yelled as he whirled his steed around to face the Fletching Commander. “How can you cower at a time like this?” he asked as he made a fist. “One sun’s cycle you Fletching shall taste...” He stopped himself.

  “Commander,” Vim spoke up. “Perhaps we should hear what...”

  “Nonsense,” Avarice scolded his Second. “These things call for blood.” He reined his horse to face the jungle. “Blood they shall have!” Avarice pointed his sword at the jungle and yelled, “BOWMEN! FIRE!”

  “No!” Han shouted. “They don’t want a fight!”

  The Morgog Bowmen released their steel pointed fury into the vegetation. The Dreadgons roared, and five of them rushed out, removing arrows like they were nothing more than thorns. The large beasts who were the size of huts swung huge spiked clubs above their heads and charged up the slope. They were stout and wide as they were tall. Thick gray skin covered them, and dense black hair blanketed their huge forearms, bare feet, and hunched backs. Their large ridged heads were a third of their size, and they had no necks. Three sallow eyes set in a triangle and glared at the men as two yellow tusks curved out from their large square lips. Their noses were pig-like, and brown pants that were held up by a wide buckled belt covered their stout legs.

  The Bowmen scattered as the lead Dreadgon slammed his spiked club on the ground, and dirt burst into the air. The Dreadgon leveled his weapon, pointing it across the camp as he declared, “Small foolish ones, now blood won’t settle this dispute only your deaths.” He lifted his spiked weapon and stated, “I, Gar, proclaim this.” He swung his club, clipping three Bowmen in his path, and the men screamed as they were hurled across the camp.

  Another Dreadgon grabbed two Fletchings by their capes, whipped them in the air, and slammed them on the ground. The gray beast did this several times and left the men to choke on their own blood. Avarice quickly called his Cavalry to retreat as a Dreadgon swung his club, missing a few Archers but smashed a supply tent. His attack took out several crates and barrels spilling their contents to the dirt.

  “I, Tusk, will smash you,” a Dreadgon shouted whose tusks were much larger than the others. He stomped after the Morgog Cavalry, grunting angrily.

  Han shouted to his men, “Distract the beasts so our Archers may flee.” He scanned the camp, spotting Gar as he added, “But do not attack.” Han shouted to his Archers, “Cease fire!” He headed his horse for the leader as he yelled, “Gar!” Han galloped to the Dreadgon and told him, “I am their leader. This matter should be between you and me.”

  A few of the Fletching Archers who hadn’t heard the orders fired on the Dreadgons. Most of their arrows bounced off their armor like hides, and the few that penetrated barely nicked them. The mounted High Guards ran their horses around the great beasts, allowing their Archers to flee.

  Gar grabbed a Fletching sailor and raised his club to smash the head of the helpless man. He caught the sailor’s scent and paused, sniffing over him with his slimy hog nose. He glanced around the camp, sniffing the wind as a righteous anger overcame him. Gar dropped the sailor, and the terrified man scurried away.

  Han neared Gar when another Dreadgon stomped in front of the commander and spooked his horse. His steed reared as Han tried to steady it, but the horse lost its balance. The steed fell back on top of Han.

  “Stop!” Gar ordered, and the Dreadgons did.

  “Why stop?” Tusk asked.

  “We blamed all these creatures because they look alike. Bigotry...” Gar tucked his club into his wide belt as he said, “It is now clear to me there are two different groups.” He hurried to the fallen commander as he spoke, “This one claims responsibility, yet he doesn’t have the scent of our eggs on him only the ones in black do, and yet they are the ones fleeing.” He grabbed the horse with both his large hands, lifted it off the commander, put it down, and the steed walked away only winded. “This matter demands justice, but not at the cost of the innocent.”

  “Then it’s a matter of fairness,” Tusk spoke and then he nodded his approval and snorted for the others to join them.

  They watched Gar help the commander who had fallen.

  Blood ran from Han’s mouth as Ardor dismounted, rushing to his side. “Stay back,” he warned the Dreadgon. “Commander...” Ardor dared not move him for blood stained his side. “Your ribs...”

  “I know. There’s nothing you can do,” Han told him as he gritted his teeth for the pain. “We must settle this.” He reached out his arm and told Ardor, “Help me sit up.”

  “I think it best if you...”

  He interrupted Ardor, “I think it best you do as I command.” Han squeezed his Second’s hand as he sat up. “Gar...” He coughed up blood. “We must satisfy this.”

  “I now understand your people were not at fault here,” Gar said as he glanced around the battered camp, noticing Avarice. “Are both of you the true leaders?”

  Han winced and then he replied, “No, but we are the protectors.” He struggled to breathe.

  “Send for your leaders,” Gar demanded.

  Han looked to Parry and ordered him, “Have Quip show you where the prince and princess are. Tell Edward they have been summoned.”

  The Blond Ox choked back tears, seeing his commander near death and said, “At once.”

  He and Quip returned shortly with the prince and princess.

  Edward stepped forward and declared, “I am Prince Edward.”

  Those with Gar were awed by the princess and Lady Flaxen.

  “Look fair ones,” one of the Dreadgons uttered as he pointed his club. “They would satisfy us.”

  “Them?” Gar looked the females over and questioned the other Dreadgon, “What do you want them for? They are too small to be our mates.”

  “They could cook and clean for us,” another Dreadgon answered. “That would make up for the eggs we lost, and they are pretty.”

  “No,” Edward declared, putting himself between the women and the gray beasts. “You shall not have them.”

  “Yes, they would satisfy the debt,” Tusk agreed.

  Gar looked to Han then to Edward and told him, “The Dreadgons have spoken. They are what we want, but we can be fair since they’re your only females.” He glanced at Pluck and added, “At least ones like yourself.” He looked over Virago and Flaxen and said, “We’ll take her.” He pointed to the princess as he spoke, “And we’ll put it to a match. One of you verse me. If I, Gar win, we take her. You win we leave in peace.”

 
“What?” Virago screamed. “NO... No! No! You cannot do that.” She looked to Lord Caliber and Avarice for protection.

  “That is an outrage,” Lord Caliber declared, stomping his wolf-head staff.

  Gar glared at the tall man with the long inky-black goatee and told him, “That or we take her now.” He looked to the sky and said, “I, Gar, give you one nal to find your champion and tend to your wounded then the match will begin.”

  He motioned to the Dreadgons, and they headed into the jungle as the ground shook as they left.

  “Quickly,” Ardor shouted to Sinew and Fracas. “Help me with the commander.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Beast Revealed

  Sinew, Fracas, and Parry helped carry Han to his tent and laid him on his cot. Edward, Melee, and Pluck followed behind. Many High Guards gathered to see their fallen commander. Virago stomped in with Flaxen in pursuit.

  “Now may not be the best time, my lady,” Flaxen warned.

  Virago ignored her and questioned, “How can you allow them to take me?” She grabbed the prince’s arm and told him, “You cannot permit this.”

  Edward looked into her blue eyes, seeing her fear. At first she had been an object, a possession for him to obtain to gain the Emperor’s crown but now that she was his, Edward felt a sense of responsibility and a sense that he must protect her. Could this be love?

  “I shall not let them,” Edward told her as he squeezed her hand. “I would die first.”

  Virago saw compassion in the prince’s face, and this surprised her, so she quieted her tantrum. “I believe you,” she said as she smiled and remembered what awaited her. “But how can we stop the Dreadgons? They are so strong.”

  “Please...” Ardor snapped as he couldn’t handle her whining while Han lay near death. He motioned for the High Guards to leave as he said, “There are too many in here.” All but Melee and Pluck left as Ardor looked to the princess but said nothing.

  “Maybe it best if we also...” Virago started as she glanced at the Fletching Commander. “He needs to be near those he loves.” She and Flaxen left.

  Pluck couldn’t hold back, knelt by the commander’s side, and started, “Han...”

  He looked into her face shadowed by the hood. A candle on a stand near his head gave enough light that he saw a tear stream down her furry face. Han told her, “Quiet child, I shall be fine.”

  She looked over his battered body and spoke, “I’m afraid...”

  Ardor never heard the commander speak with such affection. What was the Northern High Guard doing? This wasn't how a soldier acted.

  Han interrupted Pluck and told her, “There is nothing to fear, child.” He touched her wet cheek with the back of his hand, feeling her soft face. Before his eyes she had grown into this amazing woman. She was like his daughter, and he feared for her. Han rested his arms at his sides, looked up at the tent, and closed his eyes, knowing his end was near. He couldn't leave things as they were, so he told her, “I believe it is time.”

  Avarice, Vim, and Lord Caliber entered, disrupting Han’s explanation.

  Lord Caliber walked with his staff across the dirt floor as he questioned, “Who among us can face these monsters and triumph?” He stopped in the middle of the tent as the Morgog Commander and Vim joined him. “We must save the princess. All shall be lost if she is taken.”

  Ardor turned his face red with rage as he asked, “What about you Avarice? It was your men who stole the eggs, and it is your princess who is in peril.”

  Vim tensed, stepping forward to verbally come to his commander’s defense, but Avarice stopped him by grabbing his shoulder. The Morgog Commander laughed at the Fletching’s notion. Avarice’s cowardice shocked Vim. Vim knew the Fletching spoke the truth; a Morgog should be the champion.

  Outraged by his laughter, Ardor leaped for the Morgog Commander, but Melee held him back. Ardor yelled, “Fass! Let go of me!” He calmed down and ordered, “I am fine. Release me.” Ardor straightened his red cape and his rapier's frog. “I shall face Gar.”

  “No,” Han said as he moved and cringed, forcing himself to speak, “Pluck shall be our champion.”

  “Commander?” Ardor spat, stunned by Han’s decision. “But I...”

  “Why me?” Pluck asked also surprised.

  “It is time, time you showed the others,” Han told her as he squeezed her glove. “You are the only one among us with the strength, speed, and–” He motioned to the Lux strapped on her back and added, “–weapon to defeat the Dreadgons.”

  “We all saw what the brutes are capable of,” Melee told her as he stepped forward. “If Pluck is to face the Dreadgons, he must rid himself of all loose clothing.”

  Her eyes widened at the thought.

  Han squeezed her glove again and told her, “It is time. No more hiding.”

  Hiding? Ardor stared at Pluck. He had been right, but what did the Northern High Guard hide?

  Avarice laughed and then he said, “If he’s our champion, we best prepare to flee with the princess when your High Guard is defeated.”

  Melee glared at the Morgog Commander and told him, “Han says Pluck can defeat Gar then he can.” He snarled as he questioned, “Now who is the coward? Ready to flee?”

  Avarice didn’t respond only scowled.

  Why didn't the commander take up the sword against the Dreadgon? Vim was willing... but he knew that, so there had to be something the commander wasn't telling him.

  Han looked to the Morgog Commander and told him, “Avarice, if you and Lord Caliber could give us some privacy, we need to prepare for the match.”

  Avarice nodded and added with a smirk, “I need to prepare for our escape.” He, Vim, and Lord Caliber walked out.

  Lord Caliber leaned to the Morgog Commander, whispering, “A pity their most experienced soldier has fallen. I do not think he shall survive the night.”

  “Yes,” Avarice replied as he added, “A pity.” He waited till they were outside, excused Vim to see to their men and once his Second was out of ear shot, he asked, “What of our plans? If Edward isn’t the one, then who? And what of the Dreadgons?”

  “The Dreadgons may be a surprise, but they shall fit in very nicely.”

  “What do you mean?” Avarice asked.

  “I believe these large beasts shall uncover the one we seek,” Lord Caliber stated as he gripped his wolf-head staff. “The one I have been telling you about since we left the Morgog Kingdom.”

  “I remember, someone with the scent of magic.”

  “Yes, and just you wait...” Lord Caliber stroked his thin goatee as he said, “It shall soon be revealed.”

  Inside the tent...

  “Pluck,” Edward started and she turned, rising to face him. The prince witnessed her skills when they fought Matt and his thugs. She was savage yet talented; he doubted anyone else could stand up to the Dreadgons. He had to make her understand that without Virago there would be no Amalgamation. He examined his heart and believed he had grown to... Edward stumbled over his thoughts since love wasn’t a verb used in his family. He liked the princess and she must be saved. He put his hands on Pluck's shoulders.

  She tensed as he touched her. Very few people had touched her since her birth, though Pluck yearned for affection. She relaxed under his firm grip.

  He caught a glimpse of her emerald feline eyes and then spoke to her, “I know you are afraid, but I need you to fight.”

  “I understand, but do you know what you are asking?” Pluck inquired as she pulled her hood closer to her face.

  “Yes, I understand. I...”

  “No,” she interrupted. “I don’t think you do. If I am to fight, I must remove my cloak.” She whispered, “Everyone will know what I am. You know their reactions. Are you prepared to stand up for me?”

  Edward thought about it. She was right. The Fletching people would be outraged and the Morgog’s... He straightened and told her,
“I am prepared to stand up for you, if you save my wife.”

  Wife... The word cut at her heart. How could Pluck fight to save the princess when she feared Virago would receive the Kiss. Pluck inhaled and exhaled slowly and then she said, “I’ll do this if you will honor what you promised me in the Mystic Rose’s Temple. Do you remember your pledge?”

  Edward’s brow wrinkled with wonder.

  “The Kiss,” Pluck told him as she scrutinized his face, looking for the slightest hint of deception. She would fall apart if he lied to her. She told him, “That day you promised me the Kiss.”

  Han couldn’t believe it; she’d never told him what it was that would end her curse and all along it was the Kiss. Would Edward give it to her? Had he already given it away? It wasn't a light request. No wonder Pluck never told him.

  “The Kiss?” Edward uttered as his mouth gapped. “The Kiss!” He couldn’t see her face within the shadow of her hood, but he remembered the horror of it. Edward shuddered at the thought of touching his lips to hers as he said, “But I...”

  Was the Northern High Guard mad? Ardor couldn't understand what was going on. Pluck couldn't...

  “Would you deny me this?” she questioned as the prince’s disgust and refusal outraged her. “It’s the only thing that will end my curse.” She shouted, “For all I have done for you...” Pluck calmed herself and then she told Edward, “This is all I ask. Is it too high a price to save your wife or is it something you have already given away?”

  Outside...

  “My Lady,” Flaxen whispered as she and Virago stood behind Han’s tent, listening to the conversation within. “We should leave before we are caught.”

  “Nonsense. I am the princess. Even if we are caught, what are they going to do?” Virago questioned as they hid among stacked crates and then she ordered, “Quiet, Edward is talking. He is urging one of his men to fight for me.” Virago said with disappointment, “Now I cannot hear them.”

  Flaxen leaned in to hear better and told her, “The Northern High Guard is requesting a reward for his bravery.”

  “What reward?” Virago asked.

  Flaxen strained to hear and then she replied, “A kriss.”

  “A kriss. What is a kriss?”

  “No, that is not it. The prince is repeating it,” Flaxen said and then her eyes widened as she uttered, “Surely not.”