Clash of Heroes: Nath Dragon meets The Darkslayer

by Halloran, Craig

  “Stand down, Brenwar.” Nath stuck Fang in the stone. “Let’s find out what this is all about.”

  “I don’t want to stand down. I want to take it to him!”

  “Me?” Corzan eased back into his chair. “Well, I didn’t say I had the Thunderstones, now did I? Perhaps I was going to lead you to them. Certainly things have changed over the years. Why, I’m a new man, thanks to you showing such mercy on me.”

  “You hardly look new,” Nath joked.

  Corzan stiffened in his chair, and his eyes narrowed.

  “Aye, he’s still the ugliest goblin I’ve ever seen.”

  Corzan leaned forward with a sneer. “I’m no goblin. Heh. But there are plenty close by that you can get acquainted with, you bearded tree stump.”

  That’s when the rustling came. The scuffle of feet and shifting armor. Metal scraping out of scabbards.

  Nath wrapped his fingers around his sword Fang’s hilt.

  A goblin horde filed into the room. They emerged on the balconies above and hooted. Yellow eyes gleamed with murder.

  “I’ll take the ones below. You take the ones above,” Brenwar suggested. “We’ll knock the stink off all of them.”

  “There’s no need for violence, dwarf. My, aside from battle and engineering, your race is far from interesting. Perhaps, for your own safety, you’d be better off in a cage.” Corzan snapped his fingers. A bright mystic spark popped. Brenwar vanished and reappeared in the cage with a confounded look on his face. “That’s better.”

  “You dirty wizard!” Brenwar drew back his war hammer.

  “No, don’t!” Nath yelled.

  It was too late. The war hammer slammed into the metal.

  Krang! Zap!

  The cage bars struck like lightning and knocked Brenwar clear off his feet and slammed him into the bars. He lay shuddering on the floor with his fuzzy beard smoking and then went still.

  Nath ripped Fang out of the floor. “No more games, Corzan. I can easily cut you down before your men can save you. Now free him.”

  “I’ll do no such thing. And as you recall, I’ve not been found guilty of anything. It was your hard-headed friend who was posing danger. My, I thought you would be wiser than you are by now. What have you been doing all these years, getting slower?”

  “We tracked the goblins here, so I’m confident this raid has your fingers all over it. And you proved to be quite obsessed with the last Thunderstone.”

  “I was a much younger sorcerer then.”

  Nath scanned his surroundings.

  The goblins, at least a hundred, hung back behind the flickering shadows of the fiery urns. The throne room was vast, however. Even with so many goblins, they’d be hard pressed to hem Nath in, not to mention containing the power he had with Fang.

  “Older or younger, it’s not going to change your fate.” Nath gave Fang a twirl. “Just like the last time, you’re going to lose again today.”

  Corzan rose up off of his throne. The gaunt sorcerer pushed up his sleeves, revealing his hairy arms. He was a man, but he had the scary looks of a fiendish goblin about him. His eyes were stones of black power. He took a couple of steps toward Nath and stopped. “You know, it’s hardly a coincidence that you are here. I’ve been planning this day for a very long time.”

  “Ah, I see. I spared your life, and it’s vengeance you seek. Well, I’ve been around long enough to know that compassion and mercy don't work on everybody.” Nath laughed and tossed his long red hair. “So, please share. Um, let me guess. You want to sell my scales to the titans.”

  “Oh no, that's tempting, but far too simple. I have much grander plans for the likes of you.” The sorcerer eased closer and stood within a sword swing of Nath. Suddenly, two stones now filled his very large hands. Thunderstones. Each was a different shade of colorful marble, with arcane symbols engraved in the middle. They pulsated with a life of their own. “I just want vengeance, well, and more power.”

  Nath's scales shuddered.

  Corzan’s presence was pure power. Awesome, building-shaking power.

  Be wary, Nath. But be quick!

  Nath was fast. But he knew the sorcerer's thoughts, and therefore his spells, were even faster. He lowered his sword. “It seems clear that I was right all along. You have the stones. Your goblins are the killers. Or at least some of them. I’m sure the elves and dwarves have avenged the rest by now. So what is it going to be, Corzan? Are you going to try and kill me? I must warn you, it’s very, very hard to do.”

  “Let me share something with you.”

  “Please, talk,” Nath said.

  Yes, let him tell me his plans. Evil loves to boast.

  CHAPTER 4

  As Nath’s mind raced, trying to get a handle on how to deal with the situation, Corzan prattled on.

  “I’ve always been obsessed with the Thunderstones, ever since the first day I observed one's power in my enclave long ago. Of course, each was a prized treasure and heavily guarded, and as you well remember, you fetched the first one for me.” Corzan's eyes flashed. “Ah, to have it in my clutches, only to lose it. That day, Nath Dragon, you’d have been better off killing me. But you didn’t. And instead of cowering into the unknown with my proverbial tail between my legs, I focused more on my craft.” He paced around Nath as he spoke. “I devoted months, years, decades to particular disciplines. I sought deeper, darker ancient knowledge, and do you know what my efforts revealed?”

  “Long, thinning grey hair?”

  Corzan cackled. The two Thunderstones he carried floated out of his hands and around him like moons. He slipped another one out of his sleeve, and it joined the others. “No, I learned there were many more stones.” His brightly painted fingernails clasped the air. “And I could have them all if I could find them. And I did find many. And my, aren’t they quite powerful. And the more you add, the more powerful they become. Of course, you know that, having seen Quintuklen for yourself. Such power can destroy an entire city.”

  As Nath watched the stones circle the man, a sliver of worry crawled down his spine.

  This isn’t good. Not good at all. I had better act fast. How to act is the question.

  “Oh Nath, please. There's nothing you can do at this point. Act fast? Huh! You aren’t fast enough.”

  Nath swallowed.

  He can read my thoughts!

  “Yes, I can read your thoughts. You see, that is what the Stone of Thought does. Fantastic, isn’t it. Oh, how I marvel at these divine objects.” Corzan made his way back to his throne and sat down. The stones formed a floating arc over his head. From his robes, he filled his hands with two more. He radiated power, magnificent, perverted power.

  Nath looked over at Brenwar, but his friend was still out cold.

  “Oh, and I like that one thought you had, 'Evil likes to boast.' Truly, truly it does, especially when it can. Now, where was I before your pathetic little thoughts interrupted me? Ah yes, as you can see, I have five stones, and each has a special function in addition to lending me its power.”

  Each Thunderstone twinkled as he named it.

  “The Stone of Thought, so grand it is. The Stone of Command. Yes, that one I used to convince you to follow the goblins here. Yes, Nath, I was there, well, near enough to influence the direction of those prissy elves and dullard dwarves. Pah, so predictable. Then, I used the Stone of Transport to come back here in the twinkling of an eye. The Stone of Sight lets me see many things far and near, and the Stone of Power harnesses them all together. But to think, there are even more of them to be had, and I will have them all, especially once you are gone.”

  Scratching the back of his neck, Nath yawned. “If it were me, I would have gotten all of the stones first. After all, I was—"

  Corzan finished his sentence. “Very distracted. Oh yes, yes, I know. These musings between the dragons and the Clerics of Barnabus, Gorn Grattack, and the Great Dragon War have been highly beneficial to me. Everyone was so concerned with that, they overlooked the likes of me
. Oh, how I delighted in it.” He licked his lips. “Why, I snatched one stone from those overly keen elves themselves. Now, that was something. I bet they didn’t share that loss with you, did they? No, no, of course not.”

  Nath tried not to think. To blot out his thoughts. It wasn’t one bit easy at all. Instead, he let his instincts take over. He started to spring. But then his body lifted from the ground and he was suspended in the air! He could move, but he couldn’t go anywhere.

  “Honestly, Nath Dragon.” Corzan shook his head. “You won’t be able to get within a hundred yards of me unless I will it. Why, I could tell you how many birds are in the trees for ten miles around, if I so wanted. As a matter of fact, I can sense how many dragons are in the area as well. Not that I need them now. I don’t need anything now.”

  “Then why fool with me, Corzan?”

  “Why indeed. Well, let’s just say you have a way of spoiling things. And also, I really, really don’t like you.”

  Nath crossed his arms over his chest and raised his chin so that his long red hair swayed around him. “It’s because I’m so handsome, isn’t it? I get that a lot, and I can certainly understand that, coming from a man in your unfavorable condition.”

  “Be silent!”

  The entire room shook with the words. The goblins oohed and ahhed.

  Nath fastened his tongue inside his mouth. The power that Corzan wielded was impressive. Extraordinary. And he had it mastered, too. Scary.

  The adversaries locked eyes.

  Nath could feel Corzan's vile mind picking around inside his head. A tiny hammer tapping. Probing. Attacking. Finally, Nath unleashed his tongue. “Whatever you do to me, release my friend from harm.”

  Corzan rose from his throne and spat out his words. “Such nobility! No! No, I won’t. He’ll be as dead as the stone where he lies.”

  “How wonderful it must be to be evil,” Nath said with a sneer. He’d had it now. Still floating in the air, he connected his thoughts to Fang and summoned the sword's power.

  The blade ripped free of his grasp and clattered on the floor.

  Corzan laughed. “Ha ha ha! Feeble. Very feeble. Do you not understand that I am omnipotent now?” The mystic stones began to swirl above both of them, forming a colorful vortex above Nath’s head.

  “Is this where you kill me?” Nath asked.

  “Kill you? No, no, I don’t want your blood on my hands. That will bring out too many unwanted enemies. And as you were merciful to me, so I will be merciful to you. Death, no. But banishment? Yes.” Corzan chanted some ancient words in a language Nath didn't know.

  The Thunderstones turned into a bright ring of sparkling fire with a sparkling starlit hole in the middle of it.

  “I don’t know where this goes, Nath Dragon, but I do know this portal goes to another world far, far away. You can be their problem now.”

  Fear seized Nath. His hair was standing on end, stretching toward the portal.

  Guzan! This is serious!

  “Corzan, don’t do this!”

  “What in Morgdon is going on?” Brenwar yelled. He was on his feet again, his brown eyes filled with worry. “Let my friend down!”

  With a subtle wave, Corzan said, “Goodbye, Nath Dragon. May your journey be miserable and your death in the next world swift.”

  “No, Corzan! No!”

  The portal started sucking Nath in. His boots flipped over his head. Up, up he went, into the star-filled darkness. His golden eyes locked on the dragon hilt of his sword.

  Fang, I need you. Come!

  The great blade lifted off the ground and soared into his hand.

  He heard Brenwar screaming, “NAAAAAATH!”

  Suh-loop!

  Nath’s body turned icy cold. Everything went black. Nalzambor was gone.

  CHAPTER 5

  Bish

  A small wooden barge glided over the dark and stagnant waters. There was little to see in the tunnel. It was pitch black aside from the glow of a small lantern that lit up the front end of the craft with a faded illumination. Below, in the waters, glowing minnows darted underneath the craft, feeding on the algae on the bottom before darting away again. A lone figure sat on the back of the craft. Black robes covered his small body. His violet eyes, like gemstones, smoldered.

  “A meeting,” he grumbled. “Nothing I detest more than a meeting with my fellow underlings.” He let out an aggravated chitter. “And with those two, no less. I’ve been cursed only to be cursed over and over again.”

  In front of him sat a chest made from wood, strapped and hinged in iron. He ran his fingers over the cool metal. From this, perhaps, he could give his masters what they sought and then be gone. He didn’t care to fool with his kind much anymore. No, he had other interests. Experiments. He enjoyed toying with the world above far more than the world below. Not that he didn’t find comfort in the caves, but he just didn’t find much comfort among the underlings. And his fellow underlings didn’t find too much comfort with him. He was odd like that. A loner.

  “Oh well, I suppose I might as well make the most of the journey.” He shifted on his bench and reached down with his furry grey hand into a small open crate nestled between the planks behind him. His nimble fingers grabbed a bottle by its neck, and with his sharp teeth he pulled the cork out of the bottle, only to spit it into the crate and take a long drink.

  “Ah. There’s nothing quite like a fine bottle of underling port.” He guzzled down another drink. “And how it eases the senses, yet doesn't dull them too much.” He thought of who he was about to face and shrugged. “On second thought, I don’t think I could dull them enough.”

  Without looking, the underling rummaged through the crate and took out a jar big enough to fill both hands. Small insects crawled within. He removed the cap and ate several crunchy bugs one by one, washing them down with port. Satisfied, he replaced the lid, dropped the jar in the crate, finished off the bottle, and with a tap of his chest, let out a long but somewhat polite burp.

  Bwurp!

  Picking his catlike teeth with his long black pinky fingernail, he said, “That makes things a little better.”

  Traveling the Current waters that spanned like black veins beneath the surface of the world of Bish, he meditated on his upcoming meeting. Rubbing the light-grey, rat-like fur on top of his hands, he said to himself, “Don’t worry. Know full well that it will be far worse than the last time. It always is.”

  ***

  The small barge banked itself on the soft sands of the inner-world beach. With a groan, the underling shuffled to its end and hopped onto the dry land. With a wave of his fingers and a mystic glow in his eyes, the chest lifted up and out of the barge and followed him onto the land. Head down and shoulders slumped, he trudged away from the comfort of the lantern and into one of many tunnels that seemed waiting to devour him.

  “Here we go. No fear. No fear.”

  He entered the mouth of the nearest cave with the chest gliding behind him inches above the ground. It was pitch black, but the path was far from confusing. This was his home, after all. The Underland. Darkness was a comforting blanket for him and all of his kind, but there was still a peculiarity about it. He was no longer welcome here. He had been banished.

  Rubbing his palms together, he stopped at the last bend.

  Be arrogant or be humble, they’re never pleased either way. Oh, I’ll just let them do the talking.

  He emerged into a cave created from carved stone.

  The soft bluish underlight illuminated the edges of the walls. Two more underlings, dressed similar to him, sat at the back of the room in large, ornate, high-backed pewter chairs. Four massive mangy dogs bigger than him lay at their feet. The underlings didn’t speak. The one's silver eyes and the other's golden eyes burned right into him.

  Oh great. It’s both of them. Why must they always be together? They’re insufferable with each other.

  He swallowed the lump in his throat, approached, bowed, and took a knee. His voice almost cra
cked when he said, “Lords Catten and Verbard, I am here, as you requested.”

  Silence followed.

  Minute after agonizing minute, he remained on one knee until he trembled. His brow beaded in sweat. His body ached.

  The four cave dogs walked over and sniffed him. One growled in his ear and licked its hairy lips before sauntering back again and lying down.

  It was miserable. It always was miserable here.

  Catten, the golden-eyed one, spoke. “Oran, must you grovel all the time? Get up!”

  Oran rose on his aching legs, fought the urge to shake the numbness out, and said with his eyes down, “As you command.”

  “Oh, come now, Oran. You know you are most welcome among us,” Catten continued.

  No, not true. Never true. Last time, you let the urchlings scourge me.

  “Yes,” Verbard said with a silvery smile, “please, tell us how you have been.”

  “How I have been?”

  “No, how I have been,” Verbard said with sarcasm.

  “You are most excellent as always.”

  “Don’t be a suck-up, Oran!” Verbard formed a fist and punched forward.

  An unseen force knocked Oran off his feet onto his chest.

  Gasping for breath, he crawled forward on his hands and knees, croaking out the word, “Apologies.”

  “I hate apologies,” Catten said with an evil flicker in his eye. “They imply failure.”

  “Yes,” Verbard agreed. “Oran is a failure, and we know what happens to failures around here, don’t we?”

  Without even looking, Oran could feel Catten nodding.

  The underling master then said, “Yes, we turn one's apologies into successes by tormenting them night in and night out until they get things right.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Oran’s violet-sapphire eyes turned red. He bounced to his feet and said in a fit of rage, “Oh, will you two stop! Have I not faced all of your whimsies? Done your vile deeds? And yet you continue treating me like one of the demented urchlings! I am here on your request. I didn’t have to come, but I did.” He rolled up his sleeves, and his fingertips glowed with yellow light. “Either kill me or do business with me. What will it be?”