Eyes of the Dragon (The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 4) (Tail of the Dragon)

by Craig Halloran

  With narrowed eyes, the orcen leader stepped over toward a stump that was in the ground with a battle axe stuck in it. He ripped it out and stormed toward Balzurth. Chest heaving, he said, “You’re going to die for that, human.”

  “First, I’m not human. And second, well, there is no second, but if you want to try and kill me, then try and kill me.” Balzurth spread his arms out wide. “Come on, you can have the first shot.”

  The orc lifted his battle axe over his head and brought it down with wroth force.

  Balzurth sidestepped.

  Swish!

  The axe bit into the ground.

  Using the orc’s forward motion against him, Balzurth grabbed the orc by the scruff of the neck and shoved him into the awaiting cage. He slammed the door shut with authority and latched the lock. He said to the orc leader, “You are as slow as you are stupid.” He faced the others. “Now, how about the rest of you?”

  The dumbfounded orcs looked back and forth at each other.

  With his lower jaw jutting outside of the bars, the orc leader yelled, “What are you idiots waiting for? Kill him and get me out of here.”

  The nearest orc took a stab at Balzurth with his sword.

  The Dragon King snatched him by the wrist and pulled him around and swung him with ram-like force into two of his comrades.

  The next orc jumped on Balzurth’s legs.

  Two more piled on.

  Balzurth was half laughing and half struggling to keep his feet. “Same old orcs, same old tactics.” He wrapped his arms around one of their waists and flipped the orc back over his head, sending the husky body smashing into the trees.

  At the same time, the leader of the orcs was yelling, “Get me out of here! Get me out of here!”

  An orc warrior shoved his dagger into Balzurth’s chest, puncturing the tunic.

  The Dragon King replied, “Your orcen steel cannot harm me.” He slapped the orc in the face so hard his canine teeth fell out. “Don’t ever try to scathe me again.”

  The drunken orcs turned into a knot of clumsy ferocity. Teeth and weapons bared, they piled onto the big man in a frenzy.

  “We need to get in there!” Laylana urged Nath.

  He couldn’t even see his father now. It was just a pile of orcs swinging and punching with wild-eyed ferocity.

  “I agree,” Brenwar said, nodding his head. “Let’s go.”

  “You’re the one who’s so eager to follow orders,” Nath argued.

  “I know, but this is killing me,” Brenwar replied. “I can’t stand it anymore. He’s having all the fun.”

  “Look!” Laylana said.

  A pair of big hands popped out of the angry knot of orcs and grabbed two of them by their heads of mangy hair. The heads were yanked back and the faces slammed together. The same hands made fists and started punching the orcs in the jaw and hammering them on the head. As the orcs sagged into the dirt, Balzurth’s handsome face appeared unscathed, saying, “They stink. My, they stink so bad. Dragon fodder smells far better than them.”

  An orc snuck up behind Balzurth and whacked him in the back of the head with a hammer, rocking his head downward.

  The Dragon King’s head snapped up, and his gold eyes were ablaze. He twisted around with the speed of a striking viper and ripped the hammer free from the orc’s hand.

  “Guzan,” Nath muttered. He’d seen that look in his father’s eyes before. The fires in the center of a volcano were nothing compared to it. The orcs had aggravated Balzurth. “He’s going to kill that orc.”

  ***

  “Good,” Brenwar nodded. “Take out those spangbockers!”

  “Aye,” said Laylana. “Let’s help him.”

  Slinging off the disheveled orcs that lay scattered at his feet, Balzurth snatched up by the neck the one that had hit him with the hammer. He lifted it from the ground. Instantly, eyes bulging from the sockets, the orc started to choke, flail, and gasp.

  Nath burst into action. Crossing from the forest into the camp in three quick strides, he rammed his shoulder into his father, jarring the orc loose from his grip.

  Hot eyed like a god gone mad, Balzurth glared at Nath. “You dare!”

  “We’re not supposed to kill them!” Nath replied.

  An orc rushed him with a spear.

  With ease, Nath sidestepped and drove his boot into the orc’s belly, dropping it on the ground and gasping. “We just beat the stupid out of them.”

  “They’re orcs, they don’t matter,” Balzurth said. Fierce as a charging bull, he lifted a woozy orc over his head and shoulders and hurled him like a stump of wood into the upper branches of a tree. “Now get out of my way!”

  Nath shoved him back and said, “So you lied to me?”

  “I don’t lie,” Balzurth said.

  “So I can kill orcs then?” Nath fired back.

  Balzurth hesitated. The hot glare in his eyes cooled. Clenching his fists, he shook them and said, “My flesh lusts for battle! But no, Son. You are right. I should not be slaying these impudent things, regardless of how stupid they may be. Unless of course my life is in peril.” He took a glance at his surroundings. “Which it clearly is not.”

  A banging of metal resounded on the cage the orc leader was trapped in. One of his brethren knocked the lock off, and in a wide-eyed hustle they scurried away.

  “Aren’t you going after them?” Nath said to his father. “After all, it is pretty fun throttling them from time to time. And I must admit it was a delight seeing you in action. I’ve never seen you like this before.”

  “Aye, but I got carried away.” A long look formed on Balzurth’s bearded face. He raised his fingers and studied the specks of orcen blood on them. “This flesh is weak. Son, it’s been so long that I’ve forgotten how hard it must be for you to be you. It’s exhilarating but dangerous. Perhaps this form I’ve taken is not for me.” He scanned the fallen orcs with a sneer. “So many are soaked in evil that it’s impossible to avoid it. A shame.”

  “What do you want us to do with these orcs, King Balzurth?” Brenwar had an orc locked up with the war hammer handle under the orc’s chin. “I’d be glad to vanquish these poachers on your command.”

  Nath awaited his father’s answer. There had been a time in Nalzambor when poaching dragons was a crime, but those days were gone. How were they supposed to deal with orcs that committed crimes against his kind? There wasn’t any way to enforce those laws nowadays without killing. There was no longer anywhere to imprison simple poachers.

  “Destroy their weapons and belongings. That’s going to have to be punishment enough for now. We have our own mission.” Balzurth picked up the orc leader’s axe and spun it around with a twist between his fingers and said to the orcs, “Just because you receive mercy today does not mean you will receive mercy tomorrow.”

  Deep in the bowels of the forest, a horn blared.

  A tremor shook the ground under Nath’s feet, and the branches shook though there was no wind.

  Rising up with Laylana at his side, Brenwar said, “What in Mortuun’s beard is that?”

  The sound of branches snapping could be heard in the distance. It came closer and closer. A lone orc, the one Balzurth had hurled, fell out of the trees, hit the ground hard, and scurried away. Nath knew the sound. It was footsteps. Giant footsteps that shook the ground. And it wasn’t just one set but many.

  Balzurth looked at Nath and said, “It seems the fight is just beginning.” He lifted the orcen axe in front of his face and with a single breath he turned the twin blades to flame. “I hope Fang is ready. We’re going to need him.”

  CHAPTER 10

  A steady drip of water bounced off Rerry’s head. The icy water ran down his back under his clothes and plopped into a puddle. The pool of liquid made its way down the rocky cavern floor like a tiny river that winded around the cave wall into the black out of his sight. It had been going on like this for hours while the limbs of the part-elven son of Bayzog burned with agony.

  “Ug
h…I don’t know which is worse, the water or the stretch,” he said in a gravelly voice. Licking his cracked lips, Rerry wriggled against his bonds. His wrists were bound over his head by chains, just barely allowing his toes to touch the floor.

  “The water wouldn’t be so bad if I could only taste a drop. Ugh!”

  In the corner opposite his was Samaz. The stouter brother of the two hung the same way as Rerry: upright and uncomfortable. But Samaz’s hair hung over his eyes. His bare chest had bruises and red marks all over it. A nasty cough revealed the taut muscles of his abdomen.

  Rerry let out a light laugh. “This is fitting for you, Samaz. You have lost some of that baby fat that guarded your ample belly. Just think, a few more days and you’ll be as skinny as me.”

  Samaz coughed and convulsed. It was a sick cough, not some annoyance that comes with a dry throat. Something worse.

  Rerry squinted. A single torch just outside the cavern of their prison was the only source of light they had, and it was very little. Just enough to make out his brother’s body but not enough to provide any kind of warmth. “Samaz. Samaz? Are you sick?”

  Samaz shivered in his shackles, and the wet cough came back again.

  “Great Guzan, you are sick.” Rerry tugged against the steel links of his bonds. The fire inside him had far from dimmed, but his wiry strength was lacking. His hands bled from trying to squeeze them through the steel cuffs that held them. The bonds were secure. “My captors are clever. They know better than to take a chance with a brilliant swordsman like me, eh Samaz? Rerry the Ravager. No, Rerry the Rage.” He blew his sweaty blond locks from his eyes. “If only I had red hair, I could be Rerry the Red.”

  “Rerry the Rooster,” Samaz sputtered out in a raspy voice.

  “You speak!” Rerry beamed and then frowned. “Uh, why rooster?”

  “Because you’re clucking all the time.” Samaz broke into another fit of coughing.

  Rerry grimaced and said, “I need to get you help. You are very ill with hallucinations. Do I look like a chicken to you?”

  Samaz shivered so hard that his teeth clacked. Gulping for air, he said, “It’s a fever. It will break.”

  “You will break if you don’t have nourishment.” Rerry let out a sharp whistle. “Guards! Guards!” His voice echoed down the tunnels and came to a stop. He shouted again. “Guards! Guards!”

  It was as if they were the only ones in the caves. Rerry wasn’t even certain where they were, because they’d been hooded when they were brought in. And now, after days in the dark, the grim, damp cave was taking a toll on Samaz. And Rerry feared it might take a toll on him as well before long. He glanced down at the skeleton that lay on the floor with its mouth hanging open. It had long, wispy black hair, and its clothes were finely woven. Judging by the hair and the narrow features of the skull, Rerry was certain it was elven.

  How long did that elf live in this cavern before he died?

  A scuffle of soft steps splatting over the damp waters that ran through the cave caught his ear. Whoever was coming moved with the gentleness of the falling night. Gazing at the tunnel, Rerry waited for his captor to emerge. Limbs still burning, he struggled in his shackles. He blinked away the sweat that dripped into his eyes, and when he looked up again, an elf was there blocking the torchlight and casting an ominous shadow over him.

  “It’s high time you stopped disturbing the gloom,” the newcomer said. Tall and slender, the elf was handsome in his features, but his brown hair was shorter than that of most of their kind, cut neatly just above the shoulders. An eye patch covered his left eye, and a white scar split the dimple in his chin. He wore a leather tunic dyed black over a white shirt the covered him from the knees up over his trousers. The feathered insignia of an elven officer was on his collar, and he carried himself with a sinister air. “So I take it you are needing something?”

  “I don’t, but my brother needs care, Scar,” Rerry said. “He’s sick.”

  “It makes no difference to me. Suffering is part of your punishment,” Scar said. “It goes hand in hand with your imprisonment.” He glanced at the skeleton on the floor. “Just ask him.”

  “I did. He’s not answering.”

  “Your tongue is awfully sharp, little Rerry. You sound strong. I need to remedy that.” Scar grabbed the chains that hung over Rerry’s head and gave them a yank. Rerry let out a groan. Scar added, “Perhaps they need to be a little tighter.”

  “This is not right. Where is our counsel, Scar? We are entitled to counsel. I might not be a full-blooded elf, but I know the elven rules. You cannot hold us like this against our will. It’s not the elven way!” He stretched out toward Scar. “Help my brother!”

  “Oh, your brother will be fine.” Scar made his way over to Samaz, took him by the hair, and pulled his head up. Samaz’s face was pasty and white. His eyes were sunken into their sockets. “He looks fine to me, for a human that is.”

  Voice straining, Rerry said, “We might be part human, but we are still entitled to our elven heritage. I demand our counsel now, Scar!”

  Scar slipped his well-honed rapier out of his sheath in the blink of an eye and held the blade against Rerry’s throat. “It’s Captain Scar, and you bastards are entitled to nothing. Your kind is poison to the elven world. Your father is an embarrassment, and it’s no surprise that his atrocious sons are nothing but common thieves. I should cut you both open right now and be done with it.”

  Showing his teeth, Rerry replied, “Then what is stopping you, Captain Scar?”

  “Unlike you, I have orders that I follow. Otherwise, I would have finished the both of you off the moment we met.”

  Staring down Scar—who looked middle aged for an elf—Rerry replied, “Why don’t you give me a blade so we can see who’ll finish who off fairly?”

  Scar smacked him on the cheek with the flat of his sword and said, “You whelp. Do you have so little value for your life that you’d let me cut you down in a moment? I’d carve you to ribbons. Pah. I bet you’ve never even killed in battle.”

  “I doubt you have. Cut me down, Scar. Let our swords dance, and we will see what happens.”

  “You’ll never get the pleasure. You’re dead already.” Scar slid his sword into his scabbard and walked away.

  CHAPTER 11

  The first giant shoved two smaller trees aside, snapping them both at their bases. It ripped another tree out of the ground and lifted it high over its head like a club. Standing at fifteen feet tall, the ugly brute was nothing but thick layers of fat over muscle. Its neck was as wide as its head, and it opened up a mouthful of teeth that numbered more than the hairs on its head.

  Covering his nose, Balzurth said, “And I thought the orcs were smelly.”

  Two more giants emerged from the startled black of the forest. Like the other giant, they were bestial men with hides and furs for clothes.

  Flipping his flaming axe around his wrist, Balzurth said, “I’ll take the one in the middle.” To Nath he said, “There will be no mercy to these unnatural beasts.”

  Without hesitation, Nath rushed in with Fang arcing high. He swung the great blade into the giant’s leg with authority.

  The giant let out an angry bellow, and its fingers clutched for the locks of hair on Nath’s head.

  Nath stepped under the giant’s legs and cut deep into the back of its knee, sending it sprawling to the ground.

  Wham!

  There was a clap of thunder, followed by the moaning of a giant that Mortuun the war hammer sent staggering into the trees. Brenwar was yelling, “For Morgdon!”

  Balzurth’s flaming battle axe sliced off the fingers of the outstretched giant’s hand.

  Letting out an ear-splitting howl of anger and anguish, it brought the tree it carried like a club down at Balzurth’s head.

  In human form, the Dragon King knocked the tree club aside with his blazing axe, bursting the branches into flames.

  The trio of warriors pressed the giants back into the forest, hacking, s
tabbing, and chopping the bewildered giants down. The battle raged, and the forest turned to flame. Smoke stung Nath’s eyes as he gave chase to the giant he’d toppled, which had gotten up and was running for its life through the branches. Nath clipped it right behind the heel, and it crashed headlong into a tree. Dazed, the giant turned, just as Nath ran Fang straight through its heart, ending its life. Surrounded by smoke and the burning haze of the orange fire, he heard Laylana’s voice calling out.

  “Nath! Nath!”

  Rushing straight for the sound of the elven woman’s voice, Nath picked up a rattling sound in the woods that sent shivers down his spine. The giants were not alone. Wurmers snaked through the smoky murk.

  When he caught sight of Laylana, she was surrounded by wurmers. The rogue elven fighter chopped with the ferocity of an attacking lion, keeping the wurmers at bay, but then a tail lashed out and struck her square in the back of the head, taking her down.

  “Laylana!” Nath screamed. Charging with amazing speed, he attacked the slithering knot of wurmers. His great sword Fang cut off a wurmer’s head at the neck. With a stamp, he punctured another wurmer in the chest, turning the purple gleam in its eye cold.

  Jaws clamped down on his free arm, and he drove Fang’s pommel into an eye, jarring the creature loose.

  Claws slashed into him.

  Jaws snapped at his knees.

  Nath fought on, tearing through the wurmers one by one, trying to reach Laylana. His powerful sword strokes swept the wurmers aside until he found himself standing over the elven princess. She was on her hands and knees, bleeding. “Laylana! Can you fight?”

  Clutching her sword and rising to her feet, she said, “Do I have a choice?”

  Back to back, they fought off the wurmers. The man-sized lizards moved in, one right after the other, swarming them from all directions. Fang bit through scale and bone.