“Wait!”
I heard someone crying out in the distance. Behind me, a man galloped, waving a rag shirt or something in the air. It was Ben. Something must be wrong.
He came alongside me, panting for breath.
“Your horse should be panting, not you,” I said. “What’s going on? Did the enforcers escape?”
“No, no!” he managed. “That’s fine. The legionnaires are coming to haul them off.”
“And you rode all this way to tell me that?”
He looked at me funny.
“No. I’m here because I’m coming with you!”
CHAPTER 16
“No, you aren’t coming with me!” I said.
“Why not?” he said, grinning ear to ear.
Now it was my turn to gape. The young man was bruised from head to toe with a big knot on his head. He’d almost died hours ago, and now he wanted to follow me to a certain death.
“Because you’ll die.”
There, I'd said it. He’d just have to get over it.
He frowned.
“Ben, be realistic. You stabbed a monster in the back. It died. And you have my sword to thank for that, else you’d never have scratched his hide.”
He brushed his black hair behind his ear and said, “I never really thought about it.”
“What you did was as I said. Brave. 'Bravery is for the foolish', some say. But fortunate as well. Why don’t you just go home and enjoy your days being the hero of the village? The man that saved the town. I’m sure the milkmaids would love for you to stick around.”
A pleasant smile formed on his face.
“I hadn’t thought about that, either. Do you really think they’ll like me?”
“A handsome young hero like you? Hah! They’ll swoon as soon as you enter the room.”
He was eyeing the sky and rubbing his chin. I knew I had him thinking now. With excitement in his voice, he said, “No! I want to go with you, Nath Dragon.”
I shook my head. What has possessed this young man?
“No, and I don’t have a shovel with me, either.”
“A shovel? What do you need a shovel for?”
I turned my steed and trotted away, saying, “To dig your grave. Goodbye, Ben. And tell the milkmaids hello.”
The clopping of hooves was catching up. I turned.
“Ben, go home. I mean it!”
“But you owe me!”
“Owe you? For what?”
“You said, ‘I owe you my life’. You can pay me back now.”
Great! Ben had a point. I owed him my life.
Irritated, I said, “What do you want?”
“Uh, well, er… I just want to go with you. See the world. Travel Nalzambor.”
Ben looked about as fit for travel as a one-legged horse. His trousers were held up by a rope belt, and the leather armor that he must have taken from an enforcer was too big. His arms jutted out from under the shoulder plates like sticks, and the sword strapped to his waist looked like it would pull him from the saddle. He would have been the most pathetic enforcer I ever saw.
“Are you certain you want to do this, Ben?” I smiled.
Reason with him. Talk him out of it.
“Absolutely. More than anything. I don’t want to work on the farm anymore. It’s boring. I want to see the world.”
“And you want to face all the dangers therein?”
“Well, I guess.”
“You ever seen an ogre pull a man’s arms off?”
“No.”
“Have you seen a chimera swallow a gnoll?”
“What’s a chimera?”
I rolled my eyes.
“Do you know there are goblins that eat people?”
“No.”
“Orcs that enslave people?”
He shook his head.
“Fierce dragons that burn the living to a crisp?”
His eyes fluttered in his head. Then he said, “Oh… I’d love to see that!”
“Really?”
“Well, not good people. Just ones like the enforcers and all.”
I could see a dangerous look in his eyes. A fire. A twinkle. A zeal. Ben wasn’t going home. He was coming with me, on an adventure.
I sighed.
“Come on, then. But I’ll not feed you, clothe you, or baby you. So you better keep up.”
His long face lit up like a halfling parade. “Really? You’ll let me come?”
“It’s your life to throw away, not mine.”
“So it is,” he said, grinning ear to ear. “Let’s go!”
I led. He followed. Over the faintest of trails we went.
As the minutes passed and the sun set, Ben finally asked, “Er… Nath?”
“Call me Dragon,” I scowled.
“Er… Dragon, where are we going?”
CHAPTER 17
“Quintuklen, where the buildings are as tall as the Red Oak trees,” I said. “But it’s a long, long ride.”
“I’m in no hurry,” Ben replied, yawning.
Skinny as the young man might be, but he had some grit to him. Underneath all the bruises, he probably wasn’t a half-bad-looking lad, either. He just needed to eat more. Dark-complexioned and tall, he was at ease in the saddle. His light eyes followed all the sights and sounds. And unlike Brenwar, he smiled and talked a good bit.
“Tired, Ben?”
“A good bit, actually. I haven’t rested since being hauled off in that cage. Shouldn’t we be making camp already? I can make a fire.”
“What do you need a fire for? Didn’t you bring a blanket?”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“But I meant I could do some cooking. I’m a good hunter and trapper.”
“I thought you were a farmer.”
“Well, you can’t survive in the country if you can’t hunt or fish. You’ll starve eventually.”
As soon as the white owls began to hoot, I stopped in a grove and made camp, which consisted of little more than two horses and two men with a rough patch of ground to lie on. Ben yawned the whole time as he gathered twigs and started a fire. He did well. After a few minutes, the orange glow burst to life and the warmth came.
“Outstanding, Ben. You are pretty handy, are you not?”
Covering his yawn, he said, “I told you.”
“Good, now you can take the first watch. Wake me up when the moon dips.”
Ben had a blank look in his eyes.
“And keep your ears open. They’ll serve you better than your eyes at night,” I said, closing my eyes. I could feel Ben’s eyes on my back as he rubbed his hands over the fire.
“I’ll stay awake, Dragon. All night if I have to.”
I lay and listened. Chirps of critters and crickets filled my ears. All those little things that crept and crawled in the night had come to life. A burning fire offered sanctuary, but it could attract the unwanted. Good thing I was a light sleeper. And I had a sixth sense for danger. The Dragon’s Gut, I called it. An awareness I had when I slept, though I didn’t sleep much. As I drifted off to sleep, the soft snoring of Ben drifted into my ears.
“Oh, great,” I said, sitting up.
He lay alongside the fire, curled up in his armor.
“Looks like I have the first and the second watch.”
***
The pixlyn flew as fast as he could fly, covering a mile a minute, hummingbird wings buzzing as fast as they had ever buzzed before. Over the treetops he went, scattering insects and small birds. Little noticed him. Little could see him.
In a day, he’d covered the northern part of Nalzambor. He’d seen many faces in that day: dwarves, elves, orcs, giants, and dragons, some hard at work or mischief, others at play. But there was yet to be a sign of the man he sought. Nath Dragon. He rubbed his belly, panting. The potion Finnius had given him was a nasty thing, like rotten stew boiling. It gave him strength somehow. A sense of direction, too. The man must be close. He could feel it.
He thought of his
companion, the pink-eyed pixlyn he’d been with all his life. Find the man, save her. He couldn’t bear the thought of horrible things happening to her. He took a deep breath in his tiny mouth, stuck out his chest, and buzzed into the sky.
A streak of red came at him. He rolled away, hovering in the sky. There were three of them. Each was as big as him, red scaled and black winged, tiny dragons called firebites. They circled, snorted puffs of fire, and dove.
The pixlyn shot through the sky, three dangerous dragons nipping at his toes. Firebites didn’t play with pixies and fairies. They roasted them and ate them whole.
***
The pouring rain didn’t bother him. Nor the stubborn horse between his legs. No, as Brenwar trotted along the road, he was consumed with something else. Guilt.
“I should have listened to him,” he growled, wringing the water from his beard.
He had known Nath wanted to leave Morgdon, and Brenwar should have gone. Instead, being stubborn, persistent, and consumed with the Festival of Iron, he might end up losing his best friend. And it might end up starting another war. Not that Brenwar would mind that. But he had to catch him. And catching Nath wouldn’t be easy. Not if he didn’t want to be found.
Another Dragon War, Nath’s father had warned. That’s what evil wanted. Another shot at the throne of Nalzambor. Nath’s father, the Dragon King, wasn’t the same as he had been of old. Not after the last war. He was ancient but not immortal. Brenwar sensed that the Dragon King's time on Nalzambor was coming to an end. And who would keep the peace without him there? It was either Nath Dragon or no one.
The horse nickered and stopped.
“What is it now?” Brenwar said, rubbing its neck.
A group of figures approached, cloaked from head to toe. Men, by the looks of them.
“Hail and well met,” one said, fingers itching at the sword on his hip.
“Agreed,” said another who stepped behind Brenwar’s back.
As easily as a fish swims in water, they had him surrounded.
Brenwar stiffened as the next one said, “That’s a fine horse you have there, little dwarf.”
Whop!
Brenwar knocked him out of his boots with his war hammer.
“Little! I’ll show you brigands little!”
Brenwar slid from his horse to the ground.
“Take him down!” one ordered, drawing his sword.
Two rushed forward. Brenwar busted one in the chest, dropping him in the mud. The other stabbed a dagger into his armored chest, snapping it at the hilt.
“Fool! This armor's dwarven made!”
“Drag him into the mud!” one of the brigands said.
Brenwar took in a loud draw through his nose.
“Ah, I smell an orc, a part of one at least.”
Brenwar knocked a curved sword from one's hand. Kicked in the knee of another. He was a machine, a black-bearded typhoon in the rain.
A man screamed as he busted his hand. Another fell as his knee gave out. One caught Brenwar in the back of his leg with a knife.
“You should not have done that!” he said, swinging his war hammer.
Pow!
He lifted the man’s feet from the ground.
The rain poured. The brigands tumbled down. No group of brigands stood a chance against a dwarven soldier with centuries of fighting under his belt.
Brenwar grabbed the fallen half orc by its head of hair and said, “Happen to see a man with long auburn hair and golden eyes pass through here, wart face?”
“I wouldn’t say if I did, halfling. Heh-heh!”
“Why is it the ugly ones always have the smartest mouths!”
“Because—”
Brenwar clonked his head into the orc's, knocking him out.
“That was a statement, not a question. Now, what about the rest of you?”
“Mercy, sir,” one said, clutching his broken arm. “Never seen such a man. If I did, I’d tell you. I swear.”
“Sure you would,” Brenwar said, hoisting himself back onto his horse. “If I ever see any of you again, I’ll break every bone in ya!” He snapped the reins. “Yah!”
Aggravated, Brenwar felt he wasn’t any closer to finding Nath Dragon than when he started. But he was certain time was running out.
CHAPTER 18
“Sleep well?” I said.
Ben stretched out his arms and yawned.
“What happened?” he said, covering his eyes. “Where’d all this daylight come from?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s from the sun,” I said, roasting a rodent on a spit. “It does that most days, you know.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I felt just fine, then I was out.” Ben’s stomach growled. “What’s that you’re cooking? Smells good.”
“Just a little white-eared rabbit.”
“Really? How’d you snare it? We can never keep them out of the garden. Too smart for snares, too fast to shoot.”
I held out another rabbit on the end of my arrow.
“I shot this one, too,” I said.
“Nobody’s that good a shot,” Ben objected. “Not even my uncle. He’s a Legionnaire bowman, you know. He told me they could hear me pulling the string back before I shot.” He tore a hunk of meat off the stick. “Hmmm… this is good. Really good!”
“Well, I’m sure your uncle is a fine shot. And the white-ears are impossible targets. You just have to know where to shoot before they go. It’s called ‘anticipation.’ And, I had a little help, too.”
I held Akron out.
“What is that?”
Snap-Clatch-Snap!
“Whoa,” he said when the bowstring coiled along the bow and into place. “Is that magic?”
“No, all bows do that.”
“Really?”
“Of course not. This is Akron. A gift from my father. Elven made. Elven magic. Can you shoot?”
“Can I shoot? You bet I can shoot. My uncle started teaching me when I was just a boy. I once shot a sparrow in the sky. I feathered a boar, too. Right between the eyes. It was him or me, that time.” He licked the rabbit meat from his fingers. “Can I try?”
Ben rose, twisted, and cracked his back. His eyes were alert, and the rangy muscles throughout his body were supple, not stiff. If he had some armor that fit, he’d actually look like a soldier, and the fact that his uncle was a Legionnaire archer left me a little more comfortable. I handed over the bow and an arrow.
“If,” I emphasized, “you can pull the string back, let it fly.” I pointed. “That oak tree will do.”
Ben took the grip in his hand, loaded the shaft on the shelf, and nocked it back like a seasoned soldier. Arms quivering, he pulled the fletching to his cheek.
“Hold it steady, Ben.”
He took a small breath, held it, steadied his aim, and released.
Twang!
The arrow sailed with speed and accuracy.
Thunk!
“Yes!” Ben pumped his arm. “This bow is amazing!”
“That’s a great shot, Ben. You’re pretty strong for a scrawny man,” I said, taking my bow back. “You were a little low, however.”
The tree was thirty yards off, but I couldn’t have him getting cocky.
“I don’t think many men could do much better.”
I loaded Akron, pulled the string back, and let one arrow fly after the other.
Twang! Thunk!
Twang! Thunk!
Twang! Crack!
The first hit above Ben’s, the second below. The third went right through his shaft.
“Uh, that was amazing!”
“Of course it was,” I said handing him my bow.
“Can you teach me to do that?”
“Probably not, but…” I eyed the heavy sword on his belt, thinking. “Ever swing a sword before?”
“Just the once. My mother didn’t like weapons, and my father didn’t care for them much, either.”
“Well, if you have to use it, better try it two
handed. I’ll show you a few things later. Now run down there and fetch those arrows.”
Ben started walking toward the tree.
“I said Run!”
He sprinted for the tree. At least he’s fleet.
***
Looking backward, the pixlyn wiped the sweat from his brow. The skies were empty, his pursuers gone. The firebites, who in comparison to him, for all intents and purposes, might as well have been full-sized dragons, had chased him until it felt like his wings would fall off. He zipped down into the trees and took a seat on a branch behind the leaves. He’d never flown so much in one day before.
Chest heaving, he frowned as he thought of his companion: her beautiful pink eyes and sweet smile. Even if he returned with what the evil man wanted, he knew they were both still dead. But it was better they died together rather than separately. They’d lived for one another. They’d die for one another. That’s what love is.
He shuddered as he thought of the firebites. He could only guess they had tired out or found the scent of easier prey. As for the rest of the journey, he’d have to be more careful. No doubt they would pursue if they found the scent again. He shivered, mumbling in Pixlyn to himself. He rubbed his belly. The strange aching had grown stronger. He could sense the man he’d been sent to track was getting closer. His toes lifted off the branch as his wings hummed to life, and he darted off. His neck whipped around at the sound of tiny dragons roaring.
Zip!
Into the night, he was gone.
CHAPTER 19
The next couple of days occurred without incident, and I was relieved. Ben had a strong core, and after a few lessons, he could swing his sword like a weapon. He was pretty adept for a long-leg with skinny arms, but working on the farm will do that to you. The problem with most farmers being soldiers was the only weapons they wielded were pitchforks, hoes, and buckets of slop.
“Slash, Ben!” I said, banging his sword away. “Don’t poke. Don’t stab. That sword's not made for that. You need a light, smaller sword if you want to stab. And a quick opponent will roll right past you and slash your arm off. Have you ever seen a man hack a man’s arm off before?”
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