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

by Craig Halloran

  “What? Really?” Ben said. “It’s only been a week. I have a month and I can handle myself just fine already. Think about it, Dragon. I’ve survived fights with both draykis and ettins.”

  “And horned rabbits,” I said, laughing.

  “Draykis,” Garrison said. “What’s a draykis?”

  “Sort of like a lizard man, but more like a dragon,” Ben said. “Right, Dragon?”

  “Close enough,” I said. Ben and Garrison were starting to bother me. I didn’t want them around, but it was going to take some convincing. “But honestly, Ben, this journey might take months, years maybe. You might be an old man before we even find him. If we find him.”

  “But I want to stay with you, Dragon. I want to travel. Adventure. I’m ready. You know I am.”

  He was ready. But he still wasn’t coming.

  “Oh,” Garrison said, turning his horse around.

  “Where you going?” Ben asked.

  “There’s another snare I forgot to check back there. I’ll be right back,” he said, riding off.

  “Want me to come along?” Ben yelled after his friend.

  I grabbed his shoulder. “He’ll be fine. Let him go. Besides, I need to work on that hard head of yours. You’re going back, Ben. No choice.”

  “But what about Sasha?” he said. “She’s human too.”

  He made a good point, but Sasha wasn’t my problem. Not that she was a problem, but that was up to Bayzog. I did find it strange that he let her travel with him at all. Especially as protective as he was.

  “She a sorceress, Ben. She can live longer. You can’t do that, can you?”

  He frowned. “No.”

  “And she’s not a Legionnaire either, is she?”

  Still frowning, head down, he rode away.

  I felt bad for him. I really did. But it was the right thing.

  ***

  Garrison drifted back, out of sight, taking a spot in a sparse grove of turning trees and falling leaves. He hopped out of his saddle, checked his surroundings, and procured a small figurine from one of his pouches.

  It was a robed, bald man carved out of wood. An evil look in its eyes.

  He rubbed it between his hands, faster and faster. His hands glowed. Became hot. He dropped it to the ground.

  “Sheesh!” He rubbed his smoking hands in the dirt. Gritted his teeth. “Hate doing this.”

  An image formed over the figurine. A man-sized shadow. Almost as real as his nose. Dark eyes encircled pupils that burned like fire.

  Garrison kneeled down. Bowed. Rose up a hair.

  “High Cleric Kryzak,” he said, “I have news.”

  The image wavered in the wind, then stiffened. The voice was strong. He could feel it.

  “Share, soldier, share,” Kryzak said, “What business had they in the Elven Lands? We could not communicate with you there.”

  “My lord, they sought aid to find Sansla Libor. He’s cursed and seeks a cure. Nath Dragon does too.”

  “Are you certain of what you report?” Kryzak said, his image coming closer.

  Garrison broke into a cold sweat. He’d seen what the war cleric did to those who failed.

  “I’m certain,” he said. “I’ve picked up on what they’ve tried to keep hidden. My ears,” he said, rubbing a small metal earring on his lobe, “are picking up lots of things thanks to this enchanted jewel.”

  “Tell me more,” the dark voice said.

  “They sought an item. The Ocular of Orray. It heals. Removes curses and disease, they say. The elves search for a winged ape. White. Powerful. He is the Roamer King, Sansla Libor. Nath Dragon sought to remove his black scales but does not talk of it now.” He caught his breath. “He seems content.”

  “I see,” the shadow said, rubbing his chin. “And what of you, soldier?”

  “He sends us back toward Quintuklen.”

  “Hmmm,” Kryzak said, “journey back to where you started. Convince Nath Dragon to follow. If needed, I will assist you. Worry naught about the others. I’ll take care of them when the time comes.”

  Garrison bowed again. “As you wish, my lord. I’ll not let the Clerics of Barnabus down.”

  The image faded. The glow of the figurine went out.

  He picked it up and stuffed it into his pouch. Stuck his boot in the stirrup and boosted himself up. “This will be interesting.”

  He wondered what Kryzak had in mind for Dragon. Death. Torture. Mutilation. He’d heard about Nath Dragon much in his life. His parents were servants of Barnabus. It was all he’d ever known. He had been raised to hate the dragons. But he hid it well. Unlike his parents, he wasn’t deft in magic, but he had a clever tongue. A simplistic, nonthreatening demeanor. It made him an excellent spy, and he liked it. How I enjoy messing with people. Pulling rugs and dragons out from underneath them.

  He rode with a sly smile under his nose until he got there. This was the greatest mission ever.

  CHAPTER 28

  “Dragon, come,” Shum said.

  I followed him on horseback, leaving the others behind.

  We were another day into our journey. Garrison had pleaded that we escort them back to the village the ettins attacked to see that everything was all right. Shum and Brenwar saw no problem with it, seeing how the last time we saw Sansla Libor, it was in the north, and it was the most likely place to head anyway. Personally, I didn’t mind. I wanted to get a look at that crater again anyway. Something ate at me about it.

  Shum hopped off his horse, and I followed suit. The big elf had been scouting ahead the whole time, keeping out of sight until night sometimes. His movements were purposeful, his gestures quick.

  I followed along up a faded path, past the naked branches, and stopped behind the bushes that overlooked a cliff.

  “Smell that,” he said.

  My nose crinkled. It was offended. “Orcs!” I whispered, my blood charged.

  Shum nodded, battle awakening in his eyes.

  If there was one time when dwarves, elves, and men got along, it was against orcs. We all hated them and they hated all of us.

  Shum stuck his long finger out. There must have been two dozen of them camping, that I could see.

  “Pretty close to the Elven Lands,” I said. “They are getting braver, just like Laedorn said.”

  “We can go around,” Shum said, “but I figured you’d want to get a look. You’ve tangled more with them than I have recently.”

  I flexed my arms. Clenched my claws. What an opportunity! Turn loose both my arms and my breath on the orcs. Sure, I couldn’t kill them. But I could hurt them. Maim them. Frighten the hair off their backs.

  We hunched down. Watched. Waited. Shum was right. No sense in endangering ourselves or the rest of the party on account of orcs.

  The breed below were wild ones. Some had small tusks under their noses. Some hard, flat bellies, while others’ bulged over their belts.

  I just wanted to punch them out. Break some bones. Leave some with a limp for life maybe.

  They tussled, grunted, and poked fun at one another, making coarse sounds and jokes.

  “I suppose we should go,” I said, “but do you think it necessary to send word to the elves?”

  “No,” Shum replied, “they’ve doubled patrols already on the borderland. Perhaps these are some of the ones that have been hunting game on their land.”

  “I wonder what kind of game they’re after,” I said, watching one of the orcs.

  It was stirring up a commotion, beating its chest about something. It waved another orc over with a face filled with metal and rings. It had a leash.

  It has a dragon on that leash!

  My blood turned white hot.

  Shum grabbed my shoulder. “Don’t react, Dragon. Plan, then attack,” he said in my ear.

  I took a sharp breath.

  They had two dragons, not one, each the size of a large goat. They were golden flowers. Canary-yellow scales sparkled with pale bellies. My keen eyes picked up the long lashes on th
eir eyes. Two girls. Sisters, probably. Beautiful and sleek. Hissing and slashing their tails while the orcs stood by laughing. Jerking the collars on their necks.

  I tore out of Shum’s grasp.

  “Dragon!” he half yelled. “Let’s get the others!”

  As I dashed down the hill, the wind whistled through my ears. My auburn hair flowed around me.

  An orc pointed my way. Sounded the alarm.

  I kept on going.

  They formed a row at the bottom. Weapons ready to greet me. Axes, hammers, and flails, wielded in handfuls of ugly.

  I leapt over the tops of their heads―leaving them to their cries of astonishment―and made a bee line for the dragons.

  A big orc, rock solid and black haired, charged after me.

  I struck. Snapped its head back. Knocked it out.

  One dove at my legs.

  Another swung a cleaver at my head. The blade skipped off my scaled arm as I jumped up.

  I tore a hunk of its chest armor out. Twisted the blade from its grasp and hoisted the orc over my head.

  Three orcs with wet pig noses closed in.

  I gave them a gift. Hurled their pig-faced brother right into them.

  Wham!

  They rocked and reeled.

  I kept moving.

  The orcs were dragging the golden flowers away. Jerking at the ropes.

  I yelled something. I don’t know what, maybe “Stop!”

  They didn’t listen. They should have.

  My black arm flashed into the nearest orc’s chin.

  Crack!

  It wobbled to the ground.

  Slit!

  I cut the leash from the first dragon’s neck with my claws and went after the rest of the orcs.

  The metal-faced orc greeted me with long, sharp steel in hand.

  I chopped. I blocked.

  Its blade skipped off my scales.

  I didn’t feel a thing. But the orc did.

  Crunch!

  I drove my knee into its crotch.

  Its eyes exploded in their sockets. At least I could slow the orc breeding process.

  Whop!

  I knocked it out with another punch. Grabbed the second leash and sliced if off with my claws.

  Two yellow dragons scurried over the ground, squawking like birds.

  Orcs dove after them from all directions.

  They spread their wings and darted into the air like shooting stars.

  Crack!

  Someone clubbed me in the back of the head. Stars circled. The orcs piled on.

  ***

  Shum hesitated. Didn’t move. Watched Dragon dash down the hill. There were too many orcs, way too many to take on at once. They’d need help. At least Brenwar to even things out.

  “Probably dead if I do, dead if I don’t,” he said, pulling out his sword.

  He kept his eyes fixed on Dragon. The man was fast. Fluid. Strong. He cleared the first wave of orcs in a single bound. Assaulted the others with the fury of a storm. Dragon disappeared under a wave of orcs when he hit the bottom of the hill. He stabbed the nearest orc.

  Krang!

  He clocked the helmet off another. The orcs responded. Their forces divided. Coming after him and Dragon.

  “Har! It’s an elf,” one yelled. It was a big orc. Heavy and gusty. A heavy sword in both hands. “A big one at that. I’ll have his head.”

  Swish!

  Shum ducked under the orc’s swing and countered. Slice! The orc fell to the ground with its head missing.

  “No, I’ll have yours.”

  A fervor rose among the orcs. A cry of alarm.

  Dragon rose from the pile with two orcs by the necks. He slammed their heads together and let out an inhuman growl.

  The orcs stabbed and chopped.

  Dragon brushed them away. Dragon’s eyes were wild. Golden flares.

  Shum sliced, dodged, and parried. Kept the orcs at bay with the sword and dagger both quicker than snakes. “Dragon!” Shum yelled, “Make a run for it. The dragons are free. We’ve no quarrel left with them.”

  Whop!

  Dragon uppercut one in the belly, lifting it off its feet.

  Shum had seen Dragon fight before. Against the winged ape, Sansla Libor. Dragon had been strong then, but he was stronger now. Quicker. Dragon’s claws were cutting the orcs to ribbons.

  “Don’t lose control, Dragon!” he said. “Run! I’ll hold them off!”

  If only the orcs were wiser, they’d run from the danger. But they were stubborn. Stupid.

  For a moment, Shum wasn’t sure if he was saving Dragon from the orcs or the orcs from Dragon.

  And there were still twenty of them. Slow. Angry. Strong. Coming at him three, four, five at a time. Shum killed some, wounded others, but they kept coming. Their crude weapons nicked him up. Drew his blood.

  I’ve got to get us out of this.

  ***

  Shum was yelling, “Run!”

  I wasn’t running anywhere. I laid into the orcs with no mercy. Left them alive, but bleeding. Limping. Crawling. I was Dragon. And I hated orcs!

  An orc took a wild chop at my head.

  I caught the blade in my hand and yelled. My scales were as tough as steel. I laid that orc out. Tore into the others. I was faster. Stronger. Tougher than they were.

  And the thought of them capturing dragons! I would make them pay. Punish them. Hurt them.

  Whop! Crack! Bang! Slice! Slam!

  They cried out.

  I laughed.

  Someone was saying something. Yelling again. Perhaps Shum was in danger, but I didn’t see him.

  BOOOOORANNNNG!!!

  The ground beneath me burst open. Rocks and dirt flew everywhere. The orcs fell and tumbled all over. I stumbled but didn’t fall. My ears rang. Orcs snorted and started to flee. I was going after the nearest when someone pounced on my legs. I took a swing. Landed a hard shot, cracking its ribs. Drew back again.

  “Dragon!” a voice bellowed. “STOP!”

  I hesitated. Looked down at my victim. It was Ben. My hot blood turned cold.

  CHAPTER 29

  “I can’t believe it,” Brenwar said, grumbling from his saddle. “Fighting orcs without me. Bloody elf. You could have gotten yerself killed. Would’ve if I hadn’t come along and dropped down my war hammer!”

  The orcs had fled, and that had been more than a day ago. I’d apologized to Ben several times since. I’d busted his ribs. Put a dent in his armor. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when I realized it was him.

  Fear. Pain.

  I couldn’t believe I’d done that to him. I just wanted to crawl into a pit. Bury myself. I’d lost control again.

  “And you, Dragon!” Brenwar said, “Like a fool you run off. No plan. No backup. Not only did you hurt yourself, you hurt your friend. I saw that look in your eyes.” He shook his head and stroked his beard. “You could’ve killed him.”

  My mane dangled over my eyes. I couldn’t even look at Brenwar. He was right. He could chew me out all he wanted. All the way back to the village. Back to Quintuklen. I deserved it.

  Brenwar rode along my side, the others much farther ahead. No one was saying much of anything, at least not to me. Shum had spoken to Bayzog and Sasha separately, and I saw worried expressions whenever they turned to me.

  I’d freed two dragons, but I felt like I’d let everyone down somehow.

  “You can’t be running off on your own, Dragon. We’ve got to stay together.” Brenwar poked his stubby finger at me. I hated that. He continued. “And don’t you ever, and I mean ever, fight orcs without me. Ol’ Pot Belly ended up taking more of them down than me.” He growled. “Never again.”

  He went on and on. A thorn in my side. A nagging companion I wouldn’t shed. A burr in my saddle.

  I kept my eyes open and my mouth closed. I paid no attention to the wonderful terrain and babbling brooks we passed. I didn’t fish in the streams. I didn’t eat a thing. Mile after mile. League after league. I just wanted to
get Ben back to safety.

  He told me he was all right and there was nothing to forgive.

  But I couldn’t forgive myself. I’d hurt a friend. Never again, I recounted in my head, never again.

  ***

  Garrison kept busy tending to Ben and the others. He helped hunt, cook, and gather the wood. All the time he listened to their whispers. Their worries. He rubbed the mystic earring. It was perfect.

  “How are you feeling, friend?” he said, helping Ben off his horse.

  The wiry country boy held his ribs and groaned. “I’m getting better. That potion Sasha fed me really mended me, but I’m still sore.” Ben looked around. “Say, where’re Dragon and Brenwar?”

  “They’re coming,” Garrison said. “I think Brenwar’s still lecturing him. I didn’t think dwarves talked so much, but when they start, they get on a roll.” He helped Ben sit down. “I’ll fetch you some fresh water.”

  “No need,” Ben said, looking around. “I wish Brenwar wouldn’t do that. I’m all right. Dragon is all right, too. He seems sad. I don’t like seeing him so sad.”

  “Well, I’m sorry too, Ben,” Garrison said, shaking his head.

  “For what?”

  “I never should have told you to grab him. But I thought that’s what they wanted. Everyone was yelling at him.” Garrison sighed. “It should have been me, not you.”

  “Oh,” Ben said, “you know I’m faster than you.” He turned away, eyes searching for Dragon.

  “I know you are,” Garrison said, a sneaky smile parting his lips.

  I was counting on it. Kryzak will be pleased.

  ***

  “What is it, darling?” Sasha said. “Are you still worried?”

  Bayzog was worried. He was worried about Sasha, Dragon, all of Nalzambor. The encounter with the orcs filled him with fear. Dragon’s eyes had been wild. Filled with lust and power. Dragon had almost killed Ben―and there was something else that he and the rest of the party had allowed to escape Dragon’s attention. He’d killed some orcs.

  Bayzog shifted in his saddle. Long rides he’d never gotten used to, but it was better than walking. He replaced his long face with a smile. “That obvious, is it?”

  “You can’t fool me,” she said, smiling back at him. “Dragon will be all right, Bayzog. He’s good.”