The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10)

by Craig Halloran

  “Sasha! Sasha! Where are you?”

  It didn’t do him any good. Everyone was yelling. Shouting. Ordering.

  “Ben! Ben!” he said. “Can you hear me?”

  “I’m right here,” Ben said. “I think I am, anyway. What do you want me to do?”

  “Be still. Don’t move!”

  Bayzog muttered. Incanted. The magic within him came to life. Raising his arms over his head, he summoned the wind.

  At first nothing happened.

  He focused. Concentrated.

  Then it came. Up the hill, flattening the grasses, it pushed through the camp to the astonishment of many voices. It was a strong wind. Not a storm. Not a gale. Strong and steady like right before a storm. It whisked the fog away and scattered it into the sky. Carried it far away and beyond.

  When he opened his eyes, Ben was standing there fixing his hair, gaping at him. Sasha toward him and wrapped her arms around him. He was relieved.

  “Great Guzan!” another soldier shouted.

  “What now?” someone said.

  “The ettins are gone!”

  CHAPTER 20

  It was early morning when we ran into Bayzog, Sasha, Ben, and the Legionnaires. Bayzog explained everything that occurred the night before. I listened intently while Sasha tended to Shum’s wounds.

  “What do you make of it, Bayzog?” I asked.

  Bayzog’s face was calm but his voice was intense.

  “I never figured the ettins to wield magic,” he said, “and the fog. It came from nowhere. Unnatural. Dragon, it takes a lot to summon the weather and make such big monsters disappear. Someone powerful had to have done it.”

  “Or several someones,” I said.

  There was no sign of anything. No tracks. No scent. Nothing. Even Brenwar and Shum seemed astounded.

  “What do we do now, Dragon?” Ben said. “What if the ettins come back? And why did they take the women?”

  I hated to admit it, but it was perplexing. Why did they take the women, indeed? And why were they aligned with dragon poachers? Even though it was night, I’d still gotten a close enough look at things at the camp in the crater. The goblins and gnolls were poachers, no doubt about it. They had the tools, traps, and snares. And the women had been working on nets. Dragon nets. The kind that pinned dragons’ wings together or to their backs. The mere sight of such tools infuriated me. There’d been no sign of dragons, which was good. But Shum said there were caves. That was bad. There had been no time to search them. What was important was getting the women to safety.

  “Easier to control,” Shum said. “Easier to scare. Men are rebellious and children can be difficult to keep track of. Plus, the women from these villages are good menders. Quick hands. Hard workers.” Shum rose up to his full height, put some weight on his leg, and grimaced.

  “Take it easy,” Sasha said. “It’ll take some time for those wounds to mend.”

  Shum looked down at her and showed his dashing elven teeth.

  “You’ve done well.” He helped her up and kissed her hand. “You’ve got excellent hands. A soothing touch.”

  Sasha’s pale cheeks turned pink and she tossed her hair.

  “You’ve found a special partner, Bayzog. An honor for any elf.”

  “I know,” Bayzog said. He walked over, grabbed Sasha’s other hand, and led her away.

  “Hmmm,” I said, looking at Shum. He was watching them go. “So,” I said, “maybe we should check on that ettin you killed. Perhaps it’s gone as well.”

  Shum pulled himself into his saddle. “Makes you wonder if any of it happened at all, doesn’t it?”

  I got on my horse and spent the next couple of hours leading the women back to their village. The men and children were overjoyed, and for the first time in a long while, I felt like I’d done something positive, right.

  “Does the heart good, doesn’t it?” Sasha said.

  “Indeed it does,” I replied. “Seeing such joy come from tragedy is an amazing thing.”

  “Do you think they’ll be all right?” she asked.

  I looked at her seriously. “Sometimes people just have to fend for themselves. If they felt the need to leave, they’d leave. This is their home. I wouldn’t leave if I didn’t want to, either.”

  She gave me a weak smile.

  Ben and Garrison rode up to us.

  “Well,” I said, “what did the commander say, Ben?”

  “They’re going to stay. Help the villagers settle themselves and send for more help from Quintuklen.” He was grinning from ear to ear.

  “Well, you seem pretty excited about that. Are you looking forward to helping out or maybe getting a quick trip back to the city?”

  “No-no-no,” he said, waving his hands. “I’ve got even better news than that.”

  “Really, and what might that be?”

  “The commander. He says Garrison and I can go with you!”

  I looked at Sasha.

  She shrugged.

  “Go with me where?” I said.

  “To Elome the Elven City, of course. The commander says we can go!” He hoisted his helmet up in the air. “YEEHEE!”

  I didn’t have any reason to bring Ben. There were plenty of us already. But a part of me liked his enthusiasm. People liked Ben, liked having him around. And he’d proven he could take care of himself. He was a Legionnaire, after all. Even looked formidable in his well-fitted armor.

  Still.

  “Come on, Dragon,” he said, voice excited. “Don’t tell me no. You know I want to see the world, and this is my chance. Just another journey. After this trip, I’ll do whatever you say. I’ll head right back to Quintuklen. Plus, I have to be back in a month anyway.”

  “A month!” I said. “We won’t be there a month, Ben. Did you plan on starting a family while we were there?”

  “Uh,” he said, scratching his head, “no.”

  Sasha was laughing. Bayzog sat in is saddle, silent, distant.

  “Garrison, do you want to do this?” I asked. The man wasn’t much of a talker. Hard to read.

  He shrugged and said, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the home of the elves. Sounds interesting.”

  “Interesting, indeed,” I said. “All right, gather your things. Let’s go.” I scanned the hills and what was left of the village.

  The people were hard at it already. Hammers and saws were working, and the women―some of them and the children were singing.

  “Say,” I said, “shouldn’t Brenwar and Shum be here by now?”

  They’d gone to check on the third ettin, to see if it was still there or not. My scales tingled at the thought of it. The thought of all of it. Everything was out of place. Unordinary. Villagers. Ettins. Dragon poachers and craters, not to mention the satyrs. I hadn’t even mentioned them to Sasha and Bayzog yet. But something was amiss. I wanted to go back to the crater. Take a closer look. For all I knew, there were dragons there. It bothered me.

  “Here they come,” Sasha said, waving.

  The pair bounced in their saddles at a trot and came to a stop.

  Brenwar propped his hands on his hips. “Seems the elf didn’t kill that ettin after all. It’s gone.” He slapped his knee. “Ha!”

  “Any signs?” I said.

  “None,” Shum replied.

  Something was wrong. I could feel it in the tips of my claws. It ate at my stomach. I was missing something. We were all missing something.

  “Let’s go, Dragon,” Bayzog said. “We’ve done all we can do here. We should ride to Elome, before things get any more weird.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Kryzak stood in the center of the dragon poacher camp, inspecting the carnage. The gnolls were dead. The goblins were dead. But that was not all. One ettin out of three was dead, another’s hand maimed. The two that lived now roamed the woods in the crater, awaiting his call. He picked up the flail of the gnoll leader. Eyed it.

  “Interesting,” he said, running his finger over the blood on the metal. “I can make us
e of that.” He motioned for one of the draykis. Its hulking frame made its way over, silently as a cat. He handed the draykis the flail. “Keep this. It may have more uses.”

  Making his way around the camp, Kryzak reenacted the battle in his mind. A Roaming Ranger. That made him curious. Why would a Roaming Ranger be with Nath Dragon? It bothered him. Ranger Elves he’d just as soon avoid. They were a formidable bunch. Strange and deadly. And he didn’t like to take on things he didn’t understand.

  He picked up one of the gnarled crossbows, grunted, and tossed it aside.

  He took a seat on a log near the extinguished campfire, pulled his hood down, and let the sunlight warm his head. His tattoos sparkled in the bright light. He rubbed the sweat that glistened on his head away with a dark cloth and tucked it back inside his robes.

  “It’s a great day.”

  He grabbed his canteen, took a drink, and closed his eyes. Bounced his war mace on his heavy shoulders. Ground his teeth a little.

  Kryzak liked to fight. He was a warrior just as much as a cleric. He hated missing the melee and combat that had occurred over the past couple of days.

  But he was a planner, too. Strategic. Cunning. He’d set a trap. A test. He had to get some idea of what he was dealing with in Nath Dragon and his companions.

  The encounter with the ettins told a lot. Nath and his companions were strong. Powerful. An efficient team. They trusted one another. It surprised him. He’d figured the ettins a match for them.

  But he’d been wrong.

  He smashed his mace into the ground. Again and again. It was a big thing. Heavy. Meant to be wielded by a big man such as himself. He could cave plate armor in with it. Bash the locks on heavy doors. He’d killed a giant with a single blow to the head once. And he was itching to use it again.

  “Barnabus!” Kryzak cursed. “I need a fight.”

  He would get it, too. But not before he was ready. He needed to know more.

  His spy would have to fill in the details. His spy had earlier filled him in on everything that had happened. The giant-sized dwarf. The magic the part-elven wizard used. The female wizard as well. Not to mention the arrows and sword that Nath Dragon could wield.

  Even with the help of ettins and draykis, Kryzak would be hard pressed to defeat Nath’s party. He’d have to separate them. Maybe kill them off in pieces. He grinned.

  “I like the way I think.”

  He clapped his calloused hands and muttered a mystic word.

  The blackened logs in the pit burst into flames.

  He liked the fire. It had magic, warmth, and power. It could do good or bad. Destroy life or save it.

  He poured out his canteen into a pool of water on the ground. Muttered some mystic words and watched the water take form. Then the fire.

  Two tiny elementals, each less than a foot tall, started to battle. Like gladiators that hated each other.

  He laughed, watching them fling tiny balls of fire and water at each other.

  Ssssz. Ssssz. Ssssz.

  They locked up. Wrestled like minotaurs until they extinguished one another. It made him wonder if evil could truly defeat good. Where would all the excitement be?

  He rubbed the amulet around his neck.

  A draykis came forward, towering over him. “Do we hunt?”

  “No, not yet. We’ll wait until they depart the elven lands,” he said.

  “And then what? Care to let me in?”

  Kryzak scoffed. The draykis weren’t mindless things. They were the best dragon hunters he’d ever used. They made typical poachers―gnolls, goblins, and orcs―look like halflings and gnomes. They were fearless. Never rattled. And if it weren’t for his amulet, he was pretty sure they’d rip him to pieces.

  Kryzak respected them. He had to make sure they respected him.

  “You heard what the spy said. Now we wait until he reports more,” he said, rising to his feet. The pair were almost eye to eye now. He dangled the amulet between his fingers and slung his mace over his shoulder. “I want to know what they are after. And I don’t want to fool with the elves. Come.”

  The crater made for an interesting hideout. Filled with dangerous predators and excellent places for monsters such as giants to conceal themselves. Even dragons. For years poachers had roamed this location, and now Kryzak had taken it over.

  And no one had challenged him.

  There was no need now that word was getting out.

  Another war was coming.

  Maneuvering through the woods, he came across a hole more than a dozen feet wide that led into the ground and formed a tunnel. It was pitch black, but the eyes of the draykis and the tattoos on his head both gave off a soft glow. Damp and cold, a hundred steps down the steep incline he came to a stop.

  He muttered, “Shompin.”

  Torches lit up a large cavern. Inside were many cages. Some big enough for an ettin, others for something as small as a cat. Many of them were filled with dragons.

  Two more draykis emerged from the dark corners, followed by something else. A dragon, dark scaled, bigger than a horse, wingless, with bright-yellow, catlike eyes. The feline fury. Its long whiskers touched the floor. He stroked its face. Its purr was like thunder.

  “Ah, my favorite,” Kryzak said.

  The feline fury had been instrumental in capturing other dragons. It was an excellent hunter. It and the draykis had become the most effective poachers of all. The captured dragons lay curled up in their cages, eyes closed, unmoving. The biggest was a red-belly dragon. It was male, dark-yellow scales on top, dark red on the bottom. A fire breather and hot land dweller. Smelled like sulfur all the time. Not much of a flyer. It would fetch a great price in the market. Its parts, that is. It was too big to keep alive. Too dangerous.

  The others―most as big as tigers―would make pets or catalysts to magic. The wizards preferred them. They were all fantastic creatures. Beautiful in some cases. Metallic in color, some pastel, others with chameleonlike powers. All in all, the dragons were worth a fortune.

  “Almost a shame to put an end to them,” he said, stroking the whiskers of the fury. “Of course, like you, maybe some of them can be turned to our service.”

  CHAPTER 22

  We made it to the Elven Lands without any more trouble. Shum and the rest of us were in good shape. Even Brenwar had loosened up. I spent most of my time hunting and fishing with Ben and Garrison when we weren’t riding. They were good company, especially Ben. I was amazed at how much he had changed in a matter of months. A boy to a man.

  It almost made me feel ashamed of myself, for some reason.

  But my sense of guilt and worry started to subside in the Elven Lands. They were well protected and monitored. Filled with wild animals of incredibly rare sorts. People said unicorns were seen from time to time. But the elves kept a close watch on such things―assuming of course they could find them.

  One thing was for sure: there wasn’t much to do with evil. At least not that they knew of.

  The Elven Lands weren’t so different, just more lush and colorful. The water sparkled in the streams and ponds. There were roads, farms, and villages―and so long as you traveled with elves or weren’t suspicious, they didn’t seem to notice you.

  Slighter in build than men, the elves didn’t care to answer questions and would just wave and offer smiles. Elves were pleasant, laid back, easygoing, at least in the country. It was the serious ones that kept things in order. And they were in the main city, Elome, which was right where we were going.

  “What’s that?” Ben said, pointing ahead.

  “That’s Elome, Ben,” I said.

  He squinted. Held his hand over his eyes.

  “Are those trees? Or buildings? They’re touching the clouds, whatever they are.”

  “You’ll see,” I said. “You’ll see.”

  We were miles away, but the object in Ben’s eyes, all our eyes, was miles long. Everyone was solemn. Bayzog’s face was tight. Sasha’s eyes were saucers. Shum and Brenwar d
idn’t look any different than they normally would, but I was sure Brenwar would have something contrary to say about it.

  We took our time, too, the horses clopping over the road at a normal pace. Things seemed to go much slower in the Elven Woods. There wasn’t a great deal of business about them. It was different. Calm. Serene.

  “I don’t think we’re getting any closer, Dragon,” Ben said.

  “We’ll get there when we get there, Ben,” I said, raking my hair out of my face. “Enjoy it. It’s not the same going as it is coming.”

  Onward we went, one mile, then two, three, and four. As we got closer, the city widened, impossibly so. The trees that reached for the clouds weren’t all trees but a network of stonework, cut blocks and polished stones that looked as natural as nature itself. There were no city walls, not like Quintuklen, nor steep mountain ridges like Morgdon. It was the imagination and cultivation of elven kind and nature working as one. Fantastic. Almost magical.

  “By the Sultans,” Sasha said, “it’s absolutely beautiful.”

  “To you, maybe,” I heard Brenwar mutter under his beard.

  We made our way through one of the massive arches that led into the city. Elven soldiers were spaced throughout the structures but hardly noticeable. The elves went about their business―trading, selling, buying―the same as other people, just talking in Elvish. The men were slender and purposeful, the women elegant, pretty, even exotic in some cases. But not a one batted an eyelash at me, which was disappointing. But on the other side of things, they didn’t gawk at my arms, either.

  “Dragon,” Ben said, trying to look everywhere at once, “this place is fantastic. Not anything I ever imagined.”

  It was true. The buildings were of all sorts and sizes. Some carved from stone, others wood. Soft mosses―blue, green, even yellow―coated many places like paint, and the roads were laid out in pale red stone. Children ran through the streets, darting in and out of wicker hoops. Others chased after one another, filling the air with laughter and giggles here and there.

  “Smells good,” Ben said, rubbing his stomach. “I’ve never had elven food before.”