Kazin's Quest: Book I of The Dragon Mage Trilogy

by Scheppner, Carey

  Stunned, the bone dragon was unshielded as Kazin shrieked from the pain of the acid’s over-spray eating into his flesh. The resulting lightning bolt was sudden and powerful as it struck the bone dragon’s right leg. Fragments of the knee splintered free and rained down on the fighters below like icicles.

  The bone dragon shrieked and rage was evident in its voice as it turned to make another attack.

  This time the dragons were too close to take a run at each other. They clashed loosely, grappling at one another with teeth and claws. The bone dragon shredded his opponent’s flesh while taking very little damage himself. But he was so engrossed in his close combat struggle that he didn’t notice until too late that the Guardian had climbed up to Kazin’s forearm.

  Sherman tried not to look down as he made an extended slash, driving the blade deep into the bone dragon’s jaw. The blade slid up a foot or so on the smooth bone and its tip pierced one of the glowing, red orbs that were one of the bone dragon’s eyes.

  The magic of the Sword of Dead crackled and a bright red flash temporarily blinded the big warrior. The bone dragon shrieked in agony, and sprayed its attackers with greenish ooze once more.

  Kazin frantically swerved aside and raised his magical shield, but it was too late. The acid did more damage to his left wing. He began to lose altitude quickly.

  Sherman lowered his shield and shook off the remaining droplets of acid. The shield was unmarked from the ordeal. The warrior saw the bone dragon as it fled the battle, heading north.

  “Kazin!” cried Sherman anxiously. “Why aren’t you going after him? He’s injured! Let me finish him off!”

  Kazin didn’t answer and continued his circling descent.

  “Kazin?” asked Sherman in sudden concern. He looked around and saw the battered wing. “Oh, no!”

  “Just hold on!” said Frosty, suddenly visible in the air beside the dragon. “He needs all of his strength to make a safe landing.”

  Sherman looked down at the rapidly approaching ground and groaned. “I hate heights,” he muttered.

  The enemy mages had watched the aerial battle in concern, but were unable to assist. Their magic was prevented somehow. The spells controlling their undead forces wavered as well and some of those under the influence of the skull staves regained their senses and spun on their controllers. The mages frantically tried to re-establish their magical control. Fortunately for them, the magic returned as soon as the unicorn above flew out of range. Depending on the delay, some succeeded. Others failed. The commotion created by all this, however, threw the attacking forces into turmoil.

  Zylor, seeing that Sherman, as usual, was getting all the hardest opponents, renewed his attacks and rallied his minotaur warriors to fight more fiercely. The dwarves followed suit under Harran’s leadership.

  Some of the undead forces misinterpreted the aerial battle as a victory since Kazin was falling, and cheered, thinking their side had won. That joy was short lived when a good portion of the skeletons in the army suddenly keeled over, their false lives at an end. They couldn’t exist without their magic, and that magic had come from their leader, Grakath, who had just flown away with a pierced eye and a bruised ego…

  Chapter 70

  The undead army continued to attack despite their disarray, and everything seemed to drag on. The undead forces were still more numerous, and the darkness allowed them to prevail in strength as well as numbers.

  Krendal had returned to the battlefield—against the clerics’ and druid’s wishes. The town’s outer barricades had been regained, and mostly elves defended it now. The number of mages was fewer, and as a result the shield didn’t last as long, so almost all of the mages were put on shield duty. Fortunately the defending elves more than made up for the magical offence with their arrows. Injured townsfolk were set up to produce arrows for the defending elves, and everyone was doing their part.

  It was well into the night when lights could be seen in the southeast. The defenders watched breathlessly in between skirmishes to see who it was.

  A half hour later, bright flashes and loud explosions in the enemy’s southern flank indicated whose side they were on.

  “It’s Fildamir!” cried Krendal excitedly. “Fildamir, you old scoundrel!” The human army had finally come to enter the fray.

  The dwarves and minotaurs rallied and pressed forward. The southern human forces joined up with the elves and pushed inward from their side.

  A new force also appeared in the northwest under General Larsen’s command. The general and his cavalry plunged into the sea of undead with a dedicated vengeance. These experienced fighters, combined with a contingent of clerics, made short work of any enemy that resisted.

  The defenders in the town cheered victoriously but were unaware of their own danger until it was almost too late. Because of the eastern and southern pressure, and the vicious fighting of undead forces in the north by Rubin’s and General Larsen’s forces, the bulk of the enemy was pushed right back into the weaker defenders in Marral.

  Lizardmen, goblin wolf riders, orcs, human mages and their zombies all pressed into the town of Marral like water through a sieve. Perenia’s remaining cavalry fought in close combat now. There was no room for charging.

  It was probably Perenia’s presence that saved the day for the townsfolk. King Mython, who until now had no idea that Perenia was there, spotted his brave daughter in peril. With a vengeance rarely seen in a centaur, he cut through the enemy like stalks of grass to get to Perenia’s side. His troops rallied to his cry and surged after their king. Any elves riding the centaurs had their hands full simply hanging on for dear life.

  The centaurs reached the king’s daughter and almost singlehandedly threw the enemies back toward the dwarves and minotaurs, who were now just visible through the crowd.

  Unwilling to be outshone in this war, the elven king rallied his own troops into a massive assault from the south, pouring arrows deep into the surrounded enemy. The pegasi riders, who had pulled back to avoid the bone dragon earlier, converged as one from above, their riders pelting the forces below with magic and arrows.

  Enemy mages were slain in greater numbers, and their staves were destroyed. The undead forces they controlled returned to the ground from where they came, and the live zombies regained their minds and spirits. As the sky began to lighten in the east, the remaining undead forces began to lose strength and motivation. Before the sun rose, the enemy was defeated. A number of enemy human soldiers gave themselves up, but none knew what had happened to their leader. A contingent of orcs and goblin wolf riders gave themselves up as well, and were let go with stern warnings not to return to the humans’, dwarves, or minotaurs’ realms.

  As for the human mages and lizardmen, not one had given themselves up, preferring to fight to the death rather than be captured.

  Rubin looked around at the hordes of skeletons and zombies around him. If anything, they had grown in number since they had entered the battle. He saw how the enemy had acquired such numbers for this battle in the first place. Each death was a victory of sorts, the dead resurrected to join the ranks of undead victors. But this time his forces were the victors. The undead of the enemy were defeated. Now it was time to allow these creatures to get the sleep that was their due.

  Rubin held his key-shaped talisman and chanted a sad, lonely chant. All of the skeletons and zombies, including the destroyed ones, sank into the earth as if swallowed, returning to their former graves. When the chant was complete, the talisman flashed brightly and the sailor disappeared from the battlefield as well.

  Sir Galado drifted in and out of consciousness, dreams and reality meshing into one. He dreamed of being an undead soldier, one among thousands, serving the will of the necromancer. Then he saw his queen staring down at him kindly, telling him everything was all right. The queen’s eyes were soft and gentle, as they were many years
ago before the appearance of Grakath.

  Then he was galloping through a portal. He arrived into a wasteland where nothing lived. A woman in a white robe approached him and assured him all was fine. Behind her he saw the Guardian. The Guardian! He dreamed of the days when he and the Guardian were alone, out hunting in the woods. Then the woods became dark and he and the Guardian got separated. He was alone again. He thought he saw his queen through the trees and ran to catch up to her. Instead, he came face to face with Grakath. The advisor raised a hand and prepared to cast a spell. A black wave surged toward him…

  Sir Galado woke with a start. His vision was blurry, and he felt a dull pain in his side. He was on a cot in a room full of injured people. White robed clerics scurried about, washing and bandaging wounds. It was light outside and the sound of battle could no longer be heard.

  “You did it to me again,” said a low voice nearby. “You took off without me and nearly got yourself killed.”

  “It was necessary,” said a voice from a patient on a nearby cot.

  “You said that last time!” retorted the girl. “I’ve been worried sick for half the night and almost all day!”

  “I’m sorry, Della,” said the patient weakly.

  The girl sighed. “I’m just glad you’re still alive.”

  “I’m glad you’re still alive too,” said the patient. “After we dove for cover behind the second barricades, we got separated. Is my father—?”

  “He’s O.K.,” said Della. “He’s not a bad fighter, you know. He put his life in danger several times to save mine. When I asked, he said he did it for you. What do you think he meant?”

  The patient smiled. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

  Suddenly a figure entered the patient’s building and strode toward the elf and her companion. Sir Galado’s eyes widened. It was the Guardian! There was no mistake about it. He looked very much like the former Guardian, William.

  “Hi, Kazin,” exclaimed Sherman. “How are you feeling?”

  “My left arm is still covered in sores, but I’ll live.”

  “Good,” said Sherman. “Are you O.K. to get up? The others are gathered in the next building discussing the rebuilding of the town. The dwarves in particular want to help. They feel guilty about their absence when we needed them earlier.”

  Della called a cleric over to check on Kazin and in the interim Sherman looked over at Sir Galado.

  Sir Galado pushed himself up on one elbow and beckoned the big warrior over.

  Sherman approached the soldier curiously.

  “What—what is your name?” asked Sir Galado.

  “Sherman Takar, at your service,” said Sherman calmly. “What’s your name?’

  “Sir Wilfred Galado. My friends call me Wilf. And it’s me who is at YOUR service.”

  “This has something to do with that Guardian business, doesn’t it?” asked Sherman.

  “Well, you certainly look like the Guardian,” said Wilf. “Are you he?”

  “I’ve been told that many times,” said Sherman. “There are even some who tried to kill me for it. It’s a good thing my father trained me well with the sword.”

  “Your father—oh! You mean your adopted father,” said Sir Galado. “You said your name was Takar, right? Takar, Takar, wait a minute! You don’t mean Sam Takar by any chance, do you?”

  “That’s right,” said Sherman. “Do you know him?”

  “We didn’t exactly get along particularly well, but yes, I know him,” said Sir Galado. “He’s short and kind of stout.”

  “That’s him all right,” said Sherman.

  Sir Galado shook his head. “That’s amazing! I don’t know how he got you out of those woods, but he somehow managed it. He wasn’t even supposed to be there. I always thought he just up and left when news of William’s death circulated. He didn’t seem too enthusiastic about being part of the elite guard anyway. He said it was restricting his freedom. I certainly never thought he’d accept the responsibility of bringing up a child, let alone the queen’s child. What I wonder is why he never brought you back home. I hope he wasn’t working for the kidnappers.”

  “Not likely,” said Sherman. “He’s been too good and kind a father to be a criminal like you suggest. He told me there was too much danger lurking in the Black Forest and the edges of the woods for him to take me safely home. I believe him. When you’re up and about, I’ll tell you more of what I know and maybe you can answer some of my questions as well.”

  “Very well,” said Sir Galado. He paused. “What happened to the war? It’s awfully quiet out there.”

  “It’s over,” said Sherman. “Incidentally, there’s a few of your men waiting patiently for you just outside town. They were happy to find out that you weren’t killed. They surrendered to our forces and await your next orders.”

  “How many are there?” asked Sir Galado.

  “About seventy or eighty,” said Sherman. “I couldn’t stay near them because some of the older ones kept saluting me.”

  Sir Galado chuckled. “It’s no wonder. We had all thought you lost in the Black Forest long ago.”

  Kazin and Della came up behind Sherman and were introduced to the soldier, who learned that Della was an elf. He claimed he had never seen one of her race before.

  “Did you find out any more about your homeland?” asked Kazin, addressing Sherman.

  “Only that I’m more well-known than I thought,” said Sherman. “I guess I should return home and see how popular I really am.”

  “Did you defeat Grakath?” asked Sir Galado anxiously.

  “I never even saw him,” said Sherman. “I was too busy with other battles, including your bone dragon.”

  “Bone dragon?” asked Sir Galado. Then he remembered seeing the huge, white beast soaring above the battlefield. “Did you defeat him?” he asked breathlessly.

  “In a manner of speaking,” said Sherman. “I took out one of his eyes and he left the battlefield shrieking in pain.” The warrior looked back at Kazin. “We were in no condition to finish the job, though.”

  “You mean Grakath is still alive?” asked Sir Galado.

  “Grakath—you mean that was him?” asked Sherman, bewildered.

  Sir Galado nodded, his eyes widening frantically. “He will be back—you can count on it! No one hurts him and lives to tell about it. It is his way! His magic is more powerful than you know!”

  “We almost defeated him once,” said Sherman grimly. “We can do it again.”

  “Next time he will be ready,” muttered Sir Galado. “You won’t stand a chance, unless—.”

  “Unless what?” asked Della.

  “You said you injured him,” mused Sir Galado. “That means he will be recuperating from his wounds. He won’t be expecting anyone to attack him right now. Not after such a costly battle.”

  “So you’re saying we should go after him right now,” said Sherman. “I presume you know where he is?”

  Sir Galado grinned. “He’ll be back at the palace. I guarantee it.”

  “How do we know we can trust you?” asked Della suddenly. “You were just fighting on Grakath’s side. You’re an enemy!”

  Sir Galado nodded solemnly. “That’s right; I was fighting on his side. Circumstances prevented me from doing otherwise. But now there’s a chance that the rightful Guardian can resume his position. I was charged with bringing the Guardian back to his mother, but I thought him dead in the Black Forest. Now that I know he’s still alive, I can finish what I set out to do many years ago. By bringing the Guardian back, the queen’s advisor—Grakath—will lose his support among the nobles and hopefully we can be rid of him for good. No one ever liked him but the queen, and she seems to have lost her senses since he showed up.” Sir Galado glanced up at Sherman. “I will follow you now, Gua
rdian. It won’t be easy to overthrow Grakath, but I’ll die trying if I have to.”

  Sherman looked at Kazin and Della. “It looks like I’ll be going home sooner than I thought.”

  “Count me in,” said Kazin.

  Della grabbed Kazin’s sore arm and the mage flinched. “You’re not going anywhere without me, Kazin. I mean it!”

  Sherman chuckled. “Let’s tell the others. I suspect they might want to come along too.”

  “You’ll need an escort,” said Sir Galado, getting out of bed. He stood up stiffly and winced, his hand going to his side.

  “Maybe you should—,” began Sherman.

  “Nonsense!” snorted Sir Galado. “Let’s go!” He pushed past them and out into the daylight.

  They arrived at the doors to the next building just as the meeting was adjourned. Krendal shook hands with all the leaders and thanked them profusely for their help.

  “We will ever be grateful for your timely intervention,” said the arch mage solemnly.

  “And we will act far more quickly next time,” said King Wenzel.

  “You can count on it,” added King Mython. He looked proudly at his daughter. “At least some of us are not afraid to put our lives on the line for the sake of others.”

  “Father!” exclaimed Perenia, blushing.

  Kazin came up to the gathered leaders and thanked them as well. Then he called his former companions together. They excused themselves and followed Kazin back into the building they had just vacated.

  Krendal spoke briefly with a nearby mage and then followed the others in, closing the door behind him. He still limped badly from his earlier injury, but no clerics could convince him to take a rest. His pain was still evident, but he stared down anyone who even considered telling him to sit and relax.

  Kazin leaned over to whisper into Della’s ear. “Where are Milena and Rubin?”

  “Rubin disappeared after the war ended,” responded the elf. “As for Milena, she’s sleeping. Healing your wounds took a lot out of her, you know.”