“Are you certain?” Selene said.
“I am, but I am weary as well.” Sasha pressed her palm onto her head. “This deception is draining.”
“Come now,” Selene said, getting up and putting her arm around Sasha’s shoulder. “You may rest. The hard part is over, and you’ve done exceptionally well.”
“I’m not so sure I could have pulled it off without this,” Sasha said, holding the amulet hanging from her neck. “But what is done, is done. For now.”
“So it is,” Selene said. “So it is. Now, go, back to your room and take your rest. The next time I need you will be soon enough.”
Sasha nodded, and with her chin dipped down she said, “May I go now?”
“Certainly.” Selene glanced at Kryzak. “I always find this so fascinating.”
Sasha’s face shimmered and contorted from a splendid woman to the bald, pale pink form of Gorlee the Changeling. His lids fluttered over his bulging eyes. He swayed and steadied himself against the wall.
“Ah,” he said, rubbing his head, “that’s better. Being a woman is hard.” His eyes blinked rapidly in the direction of Selene. “I’m not sure how you manage it.”
“I’m no ordinary woman,” she assured him. “I’m a dragon.”
CHAPTER 28
Bayzog’s apartment was cold. Empty. He sat on a stool, elbows propped up on his round table, his head resting in his hands. He cracked his weary eyes open and thumbed through the pages of his tome. The pages of the grand book bound in dark hide leather flipped on their own, each folding slowly over the other, suspended through the air. Bayzog uttered a sigh, grabbed the book, and flung it through the air. It smacked off the wall and fell on the stone floor.
“What was that?” Ben said, popping his head up from the sofa.
Stooped over, Bayzog walked to the tome, picked it up, and returned it to the table.
“Sorry,” he said, resuming his seat and rubbing his blurring violet eyes.
Ben made his way over, put his hand on the part-elf’s sagging shoulder, and said, “We’ll find them.”
“I’ve failed them,” Bayzog said, shaking his head. “I should have been here with them. I just don’t understand what happened. And now they could be anywhere.”
He and Ben had returned to Quintuklen weeks ago, but there was trouble long before that. After Nath departed with Selene on the back of Inferno, Bayzog had tried to contact Sasha, but hadn’t been able to. With haste, he had returned home, accompanied by Ben. The two of them had been met with a foul greeting. Acolytes of Barnabus greeted them at the gates. They had Rerry’s swords and a ring he’d given to Samaz. Their warning was firm.
“Remain in the city, go nowhere else” they had said, “and when the time comes, we’ll contact you with our demands. Cross us, do anything suspicious, and you will never see them alive again.”
That was over a month ago, and Bayzog had been frosty ever since. The waiting game was torment, and there hadn’t been any word from Barnabus’s camp. There was nothing worse than fighting an opponent that you could not see while he held your loved ones.
Ben slid the tome over to himself and thumbed through the pages.
“So there isn’t any way to track them down? I know you’ve been pouring through this day and night, but can’t you summon pixlyns or something?”
“Too risky,” the part-elf wizard said. “There are too many dragons that would gobble them up.”
“I wish they’d gobble some of those soldiers up,” Ben said. “They keep coming. I thought this was a time of truce. It looks more like a siege to me.”
Bayzog brushed his long black hair out of his eyes and said, “Indeed.”
Every day, he and Ben walked the streets and overheard the conversations of people. The armies continued to stretch their grip through the land, invading city after city, without fire and force, but filling them with armed soldiers. Armies of thousands camped outside the cities. High-ranking officers and overlords worked with the leaders of Quintuklen from within. Everything seemed backward. Something strange was going on. It twisted Bayzog’s stomach.
As for Sasha and his sons, he had no idea if they were even in the city of Quintuklen. Were they well cared for? Tortured or starved? He and Ben had walked the streets hour after hour, trying to find signs of anything without asking any questions. They had to be careful. The eyes of Barnabus were everywhere. No one could be trusted.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” Ben said. He stood by the mantle, near where Akron and Fang hung from the wall. “I could use some air, and I need to stretch my legs.” He buckled a belt with a sword to his waist. “Can never be too careful when you pop your head out these days.”
Ben had been good to him. A stalwart, rugged, and seasoned soldier, deep-chested and lean-hipped, the durable fighter was always ready for any takers. The streets were safer when he was around.
“Let me gather some things,” Bayzog said, heading back toward the bedrooms. Inside by his bed sat Brenwar’s chest. He popped it open, grabbed a few items, set them on the bed, and closed the lid. On his way out, he stopped and ran his fingers over the Elderwood Staff. The gemstone eyes inside the woven wood at the top of the staff twinkled at him. He wanted to set its power loose on his enemies, but they had his family, and at the moment he didn’t even know where they were. Patience. I must have more patience. Let time reveal their plotting.
***
Shackles dragged over the dank corridor’s floor. Samaz, Rerry, and Sasha, one behind the other, followed two guards up front and were harried by two behind. Lizardmen, coated in metal armor and carrying spears, prodded the three of them along.
For weeks they’d been moved from one location to another. Marched. Dragged. Transported in barred wagons. They slept in dungeons, barns, stables, and forts filled with their vile enemies. Their captors didn’t say a word to them. The woman who had bewitched them was nowhere to be found. Samaz didn’t understand any of it.
The lizardmen opened a pair of double doors. The air was stale and rank within. A cool breeze wavered the flames on the torches they carried. The guards shoved them along into the darkness.
“What is this place, serpent?” Rerry said, pushing back against the lizardman.
A second lizardman came and locked up his other arm. They picked Rerry up off the floor. “Unhand me, snake face!”
The lizardman walloped him in the gut.
“No!” Sasha cried out, rushing toward him.
A lizardman jerked her by the chain collar, right off her feet.
“Mother!” Rerry cried out. Samaz rushed to her aid.
She choked and coughed.
“I’m alright,” she said, rubbing her neck. “Just, just do as they say.”
They tossed Rerry into the room first, followed by his mother, and then Samaz. The door closed, and they bolted it shut from the other side. The only light came from torches outside the barred window.
Samaz covered his nose. So did Rerry, who squinted in the dim light. Someone else was in the dim chamber with them.
“Gad!” Rerry said, shielding his mother.
The dead eyes of a goblin’s rotting corpse stared right at them.
“I’m sorry, my sons,” Sasha said, “so sorry.”
***
Wham!
The giant toppled over.
Thud!
Brenwar eyed a large dent in the giant’s bronze helm and grunted.
“That’s the last of them,” he said, hopping down from the giant’s chest. “But with any fortune, we’ll run into another nest of them tomorrow.
Shum spun his great spear around. It retracted with every twirl. He wiped the blood that wetted its tip off on the grass.
“I’m surprised they are so many,” Shum said. He put his fingers to his lips and made a sharp whistle. “But times are changing.”
“Times are going to be changed back then,” Brenwar said, hefting War Hammer over his burly shoulder. “Even if I have to crack the skulls of all o
f them.”
Two massive men, over fifteen feet tall each, lay dead on the ground. Each carried a club of iron as heavy as a man. Their armor was steel, forged by men and orcs.
Brenwar could tell by the craftsmanship. He shook his head. “I miss the days when I hunted the giant raiders. Now they hunt us.”
Shum’s steed trotted from the woodland to his side. Other figures on horseback followed, Hoven and the other Roaming Rangers.
“How many?” Brenwar asked.
“One.”
“One? I swear I heard at least three.”
“You did,” Hoven said, holding a rag against a bloody gash on his head. “And the other two lie at your feet.”
Brenwar harrumphed. He hadn’t parted with the Roaming Rangers since they battled together near the River Cities. Every day had been a battle of sorts ever since. Worst of all, he’d gotten used to their company. Now, having escorted Bayzog and Ben back to Quintuklen, they had been chased south of Morgdon, his home. He wiped the sweat from his head.
“Any of you pot bellies have a horn of ale to spare?”
The stone-faced Wilder Elves didn’t bat an eye.
“Didn’t think so.” Brenwar turned and faced south, looking toward the Mountain of Doom, or Dragon Home. Shum had said the Dragon King, Balzur, would send help. He hadn’t seen any yet. It tore at him. Nath’s departure was even worse. Shum reminded him often that help was coming, and Brenwar believed it, but would it get here before they all met their end?
It started to rain.
“Good,” he said.
A chestnut steed with double stirrups nuzzled his side. Brenwar climbed on.
“Lead the way,” Brenwar said.
“Where?” said Shum.
“I don’t know,” he said. “I need to think, but I’m sure we’ll run into something that wants to kill us soon enough. Oversized lizards and oversized men. Pah. What’s next? Oversized orcs?” He grunted. “Just ride toward Morgdon. I’m tired of looking at you elves.”
Without a word, Shum led the way. Within minutes, sheets of rain were soaking the forest, but Brenwar didn’t notice a single drop. His thoughts were far away. The armies of Barnabus were everywhere, growing like ivy that crept up castle walls. Dragons cruised the skies. Perched in the high rocks. Dove through the towns and cities, sometimes snatching people off the ground. The war might be on hold, but the torment was not.
Uncertainty filled Brenwar’s mind. Doubt churned in his stomach. Not for himself, but for Nath Dragon. His friend had bargained with the dark forces of Barnabus and saved them all from the sky raiders and Inferno. Brenwar would have rather fought and died than seen Nath go the way he did. Evil had a way of changing a man.
I don’t think he’s ready for it.
In the meantime, the armies of Barnabus didn’t strike, but every brooding race and monster popped out of the thickets. Hill giants. Cave trolls. Bug Bears. Rogue Poachers.
Certain there was a bounty on their heads, they avoided the towns and cities. Occasionally, he and the Roaming Rangers would get within earshot of troops that were moving or farmers in the fields. They knew enough.
They rode day and night until the clean edges of Morgdon’s walls were in sight.
“Are you going in?” Shum said to him.
Brenwar ran his stubby fingers through the greying hairs on his beard. His life in Morgdon was another lifetime ago. He grunted a small laugh. He hadn’t been back since Nath turned himself into a bat and flew away.
He shrugged his armored shoulders.
“Might as well. It’s time they knew everything that I know.”
CHAPTER 29
“All hail the Dragon Prince!”
“Nath the Great!”
“Peace Bringer!”
The shouts and praise came from all over. The people of Narnum cheered and smiled from ear to ear. They laid wreaths woven with flowers in the streets. The crowds pressed against the soldiers—armed with swords and spears—that shielded Nath and Selene. The pair rode on a chariot being pulled by a wingless purple dragon with a short stumpy tail.
“Harmony, Nath,” Selene said in his ear. “We can have that. Always. Especially when the people love you.”
But I haven’t done anything.
Something stank. But Nath decided to play along with it. It was the only way he’d find out what was truly going on. Eyeing the purple dragon that pulled the chariot, he said, “This isn’t right.”
“You know he doesn’t mind,” she said. “The groog dragons are work horses. And the brethren don’t mind. You can feel them, can’t you?”
There were half a dozen dragons perched on the buildings along the road. Blue and green, and dark winged. Nath had barely managed to get along with any of them before, but now they seemed to respect him. They buzzed to him at the balcony and nodded at him from time to time.
“Sure,” he said, “but I can still feel the antipathy.”
“That’s normal, even for me,” she said.
Nath lifted his hand and waved at the crowds. The cheers and cries were deafening. Men, women, and children on their parents’ shoulders waved flags with dragons emblazed on them. It was the third time they’d done this since Sasha departed, and that was two weeks gone. The crowds became bigger and bigger every time. Even the lizardmen and orcs were cheering. Bizarre was an understatement.
There can’t be this kind of harmony. It’s insanity.
“You certainly have a way with the crowd, Nath.” Her eyes glossed over him. “I can see why. That hair, those eyes.”
“And don’t forget the scales,” he said, flexing his arms.
“I’m glad to see you loosening up,” she said. “There’s no reason to make passing the time miserable. We’re all tied up in this, Nath. Let’s make the most of it.”
“We’ll see,” he said. We’ll see.
Nath was doing his best to keep his distance, but he and Selene had become closer. She had told him things about herself and how Gorn Grattack raised her. That she didn’t know who her mother was, but that Gorn had fathered her. She felt that Gorn feared her, or any black dragon. And she also felt there might be a third black dragon somewhere.
Nath wasn’t sold on any of it. He kept in mind that evil lies, but every day it seemed more difficult to understand it. Good things were happening in the City of Narnum. How could good come from bad?
“Where are we going?” Nath said.
“I thought you could use some entertainment,” she said.
“This is entertainment,” he said, dusting confetti from his hair. “At least to me it is.”
The chariot wheels clattered over the cobbled roads toward the edge of the city. Nath eyed faces in the crowd. Joyous. Jubilant, despite the pushing and shoving going on. But not every face in the crowd was full of mirth and cheer. There were many dissenting eyes within, not so much on Nath, but rather on Selene and her troops. Not everyone was happy in Narnum. Something else was going on.
The company of soldiers came to a halt. A large oval structure, five stories tall, made of limestone and circled in marble pillars, loomed before them.
“The Arena,” Nath said. He’d been by it a dozen times in his adventures in the city, but never once had he been inside. It made him think of dragons that were pitted against each other for gambling and sport, thanks to the poachers. His efforts to free dragons seemed like ages ago. “This is what you call entertainment?”
“It’s alright, Nath. No dragons fight in there. Only warriors and soldiers, and they are all volunteers.”
“Sure they are,” he said, stepping off the chariot. “I’m curious to see what you consider amusement.” He held out his hand.
She took it and stepped down, holding it for a moment before she let go.
“Thank you.”
***
Thousands were gathered inside, cheering and ranting.
Nath and Selene sat side by side on thrones carved from stone. The arena waited below. It was a hundred-foot-long ova
l of grass, blood, and sweat, mixed with soil. Dozens of bodies were lined around the outer wall. Fighters. Warriors. Scrappers. Men, lizardmen, orcs, dwarves, goblins, gnolls. Hard faced. Scarred. Embattled. Many of which strutted back and forth, pumping their fists at the crowd.
“What sort of contest is this?” Nath said, eyeing the pile of crude-looking clubs in the center of the arena.
“Have you never watched the legendary Battle Royale of Narnum?”
He shook his head no.
She clutched her chest and said, “You? Nalzambor’s greatest hero? I’m shocked.”
His muscles pulsed under his scales. He’d fought plenty of battles but didn’t recall watching many.
Eyeing the warriors and leaning forward, he said, “Tell me about this.”
“Once a year,” she said, “a champion arises from a group of warriors who all want to prove they are the greatest fighter. They come from all over.”
“It seems brutal. And only once a year in this oversized yard?”
“Now Nath,” she said, “the arena isn’t always used for fighting. The people of Narnum are more sophisticated than that. They have jousts and concerts most of the time. But this time of the year is special.”
Nath recalled hearing some of the women he’d known blabbering about it before, but he never paid it any mind. Soldiers were tossing helmets, gauntlets, and shields over the wall into the arena. Some of the brawlers were picking them up. Others were ignoring the soldiers. That’s when the name-calling started going back and forth.
“What are the rules?”
“At my word, or yours perhaps, they’ll rush into the middle and beat one another until only the last fighter is standing.”
There were big men in there. Bigger than Nath in some cases. Others were smaller. Lean and muscular. The bug bears and gnolls had muscles up to their necks.
“People will die,” he said.
“Only if they don’t submit. And there is no shame in submitting,” she said, taking a goblet of wine a serving girl offered her. “They can even fight again next year if they want.” She chuckled. “Assuming they’ve recovered.”
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