Legend of the Iron Flower Box Set (Books 1-4)

by Billy Wong

  For some reason, Finn had circled certain areas on the maps, and reading their descriptions revealed them to be dry, temperate forests. Rose supposed this must be the climate Finn's transformation made him suited to live in, and thought those forests would be quite cool now in the fall. She smiled at the notion that maybe, Finn had left this marked atlas behind so she could find it, and missing him decide to go look for him. If that was what he wanted, it was certainly working. Even if they couldn't be lovers anymore, him being a dragon and all, Rose wouldn't mind being friends again. And she had to apologize for her last angry outburst. That is, if he was still her Finn underneath that scaly hide. If not—well, she'd worry about it then.

  To Derrick's noticeable pleasure, Rose was already packing the next morning. Kissing her babies goodbye, she left the tower as swiftly as she had the last time, though with a hopeful rather than hopeless mood. Mounting her horse, she dreamed anew of seeing her love again.

  #

  Joghra walked toward the Sevrian ship waiting for him, his disappointment complete. He had lost so much here in Kayland—the war; so much more of his army than he should have; his handsome face ruined by Rose's unholy punch; one of his eyes; his perfect military record; and a good chunk of the respect and notoriety he'd earned over the years. He'd been deeply shamed, having even needed his wife to save him. He so wanted revenge against the person he blamed for his downfall, the one called Iron Flower. But he had to admit he feared to go after her, though he did not feel this attitude to be shameful in itself. After all the times they'd fought, he'd begun to think he could never beat her by himself; the woman seemed inhuman and indestructible. So he resigned himself to dreaming of her agonizing death at the hands of some other foe, and started up the ramp of the ship.

  A voice stopped him. "Joghra!" He turned to see a familiar figure. The giantess Fiona strode proudly towards him, a smile on her wide face. "Don't go! I have a proposition for you."

  The general fumed. "What now? Can't you recognize a beaten man when you see one? And I hear you walked away from a chance to save me and avenge your line."

  "There were two of them! Maybe the Prince and I together could have done something, but I didn't find him until much later. And you're the one whose troops surrendered."

  Normally, he would have slapped the teeth out of such an impudent woman's mouth, but he had little heart for fighting right now and this woman, as tall and nearly thick as he, might actually be able to put up respectable resistance. Like the other woman he'd crossed paths with here, damn northern she-apes. "So Fiona, tell me this proposition. It doesn't involve Rose Agen, does it?"

  The giantess chuckled. "It does, as far as killing her, but goes further than that. It's a plan for all Kayland, one that'll make it vulnerable to our conquering hands!"

  "You mean your conquering hands. Mine are tied. Does Prince Wilner even approve of this?"

  "He would, but he's too busy rebuilding Coblan. Besides, who cares about him? He was cowed by Rose again, even when she was fat and out of shape from childbirth."

  Losing to Rose wasn't something to be ashamed of, Joghra reassured himself. "So no soldiers. Who's going to aid you in your 'conquest,' then?"

  "Oh, I'm sure plenty of warriors will be eager to join me once they see the trump card I hold. But I'm not the most experienced leader, so I want you to help with that part."

  "I'm considering it," he admitted. "I would enjoy a painful vengeance on that hellcat. But tell me, what is this secret advantage you hold?"

  Her confidence was contagious as she grinned. "I control an ancient creature of the Old World no modern force can withstand. The destroyer of eight nations, the Spelldrinker."

  "What the hell is that?"

  She explained gleefully. "It's a monster created as the ultimate weapon in the great age of magic, which feeds off magical energy and is nearly impervious to normal armaments. The more spells are cast or magical effects activated near it, the stronger it grows. It will also drain the mage or item of additional energy besides what the effect required, weakening them quickly. I found it inert in a mountain cave in Coblan, after our armies were defeated and I sought some other means of revenge. Now stick it near Gustrone, where there's a whole center of mages, and I wager it'll get strong pretty fast!"

  "Aren't they all just weak beginning mages there?" Joghra asked doubtfully.

  "It's been a year since the war. They must be have made progress since then."

  "But can we even control this thing?"

  Fiona smiled. "The books say the Spelldrinker was controlled by whoever wore its mask." She held up a remarkably ugly thing. "You can wear it. As a token of my trust, and to cover your disfigurement."

  He didn't trust it not to be cursed, nor did he particularly like her choice of words. "You wear it. My wife brought me a new mask of my own."

  She raised the mask to her face, then hesitated. "Alright, I'll do it when the beast starts waking up. So let's bring it to Gustrone, shall we?"

  "Yes, and let revenge finally be ours."

  They were about to leave when his wife Mani stopped them. "Joghra, don't go back there. This is a foolish vendetta which can only lead to great sorrow for someone undeserving of it, whether it's you or your enemy who falls. Rose is a great protector to her people, and mother of two infant children. Out of compassion for me, she helped me get back your freedom. Surely you don't carry such hatred that you'd need to unleash something no one even understands, just to destroy her? And if you fail and die, who will care for me and our children? This is not worth it!"

  Joghra gave his wife's words a little consideration and replied, "It goes beyond revenge. If I am able to take the land of Kayland, it will restore my tarnished name and bring me great renown again—greater than I could have gained before! Could you imagine if I took Kayland without the support of the Sevrian army?! Why, we could have our own kingdom, establish a new line of royalty! I would not let such a chance pass me by, even if Rose had already died of the wounds she took at my hands."

  Mani nodded, her face defeated. "I know I can't stop you from pursuing your great dreams, which I've always enjoyed the grandeur of. But please don't get yourself killed, and come back to me. I'll wait for you until you do."

  He laughed then. "When have I ever not come back?" And he turned to leave.

  "The last time you came here," Mani said just loud enough for him to hear.

  The creature Fiona had left on a wagon was surprisingly small. The height of a man though incredibly bulky, it resembled a long-legged hairless ape with a toadlike hide, serrated teeth, sickle claws, and a tail ending in a bony knob like a mace. Joghra and Fiona drove east with their deadly cargo. Upon reaching Gustrone, they put the creature next to the wall and waited.

  #

  Having watched their instructor Derrick do so, the trainee researchers chanted the words that would create a small ball of flame in the air above their hands. But to everyone's shock, not only did the fire not appear, but each person felt a sudden sense of dizziness, and some fell faint to the ground.

  Chapter 9

  Joghra and Fiona stared in surprise and delight while the creature grew rapidly in size, within seconds becoming half again the size of a man. Then it began to stir, and Joghra said, "Quickly, put on the mask!"

  Not so quickly as he would have liked, Fiona donned the hideous stone mask. "Stay! Wait!" The thing stopped moving, and the pair breathed a sigh of relief. Then suddenly, it stood. "Lie down! Sleep!" Fiona's orders did little good as the Spelldrinker turned towards them. It grew more, reaching a height of ten feet. "Stop! Halt!" The creature would not listen, and instead began walking towards them.

  "Perhaps," Joghra insightfully surmised, "the commands must given in its native language?!" He shot Fiona an angry glare before turning to run. Close to twelve feet tall now, the monster roared. With unexpected grace in its steps, it gave chase. Perhaps it was secret admiration for Joghra, or more likely a simple arrogant refusal to acknowledge her mistake, tha
t compelled Fiona to jump in front of the oncoming beast screaming orders. The brutal kick she took right in the face sent her flying soundlessly to land before the fleeing Sevrian, the mask completely shattered. Joghra wondered if he should try to aid her. But seeing the blood leak out of every orifice while she convulsed and her breathing grew rapidly more labored, he decided she was beyond help. He kept running, right into view of the Gustrone gate guards.

  These guards were the ones who unwittingly saved Joghra and brought disaster upon their own city, as they shot their crossbows at the abomination that followed him into sight. The bolts hurt it no more than mosquito bites, but it felt them and turned. It charged them, and they fled behind the wall. Before the gates could be closed, it was inside the city. As its would-be master had predicted, the weapons of the city folk did them no good, and all blades and bolts were turned by the resilient hide. No obstacle served to deter the creature, whose sole pleasure seemed to be the slaughter of any human being it saw. But it did have another purpose not as easily observed, for its path was not random, but led it steadily closer to the Center for Magical Study.

  #

  Remembering the way the man-dragon had drained Finn's energy, Derrick suspected a similar effect in use and instructed everyone to cast no more spells. He soon heard the commotion outside, and looked to see a creature twice the height of a man and much bulkier approaching the center, killing all in its path. He gathered everybody within the premises and tried to conduct an orderly evacuation. But for all his efforts, Derrick's attempt at authoritative voice was not that of a Finn, and many of the staff panicked and ran blindly from the tower. Knowing there was nothing more he could do for them, he took the others who would listen and left them out the back exit.

  #

  The creature could sense the residual magic clinging to the two young men running down a street towards the one it was on, unfortunately unaware of its location. As they turned the corner it reached out, and with freakishly large hands even for its size snatched them up. In desperation, they cast quick fire spells at the Spelldrinker's face to no effect. Well, almost no effect except that it grew another half foot. Then it ate them and grew again. Now the creature sensed the greatest concentration of magical energies in the city moving toward the entrance, and rushed to catch its fleeing prey.

  #

  The researchers ran for their lives, and had begun to dare thinking they had a decent lead when the brutish abomination burst through a three-story house which collapsed behind it to dog their flight. Even for as huge as it was, Derrick marveled at its prodigious strength. It looked over fifteen feet tall by now, and its claws the length of shortswords. All its built-in weaponry shared this trait of disproportionate size; yet the unnatural being was not clumsy at all, but agile as a skilled athlete, easily leaping over smaller obstacles in full sprint when it chose to.

  Derrick's group ran outside the city, and saw to their relief the guards closing the gates behind them. Apparently somebody had figured out the creature's goal, and thought to stop it by trapping it inside. Though it might take some time, Derrick figured there must be something in the great capital which could destroy the monster, and that even it could not break through the strong walls. The panting group stopped to catch their breath. Then the Spelldrinker appeared atop the high walls, apparently having climbed up using its stronger-than-stone claws, and leapt down at them.

  Now the researchers scattered, but that only saved some. The monster reached out long, muscular arms and snatched the two best mages it could reach, devouring them as it had the others to grow another couple feet. Now it turned towards the most experienced of all the mages it'd sensed in the city, Derrick himself. With speed like that of a giant human runner, it raced to catch the fleeing scholar.

  Looking back, Derrick's heart filled with terror, for he knew he could never outrun it. He passed baby Jacob to Julie, who already held the boy's sister Amber. His legs already began to cramp, while the beast showed no fatigue whatsoever. Like a rampant wildfire, he thought, never slowing down until it consumed all the fuel within reach. After sprinting for longer than he'd ever known possible, his legs finally just gave out, and he turned over awaiting death. But an arrow the size of a javelin flew from somewhere behind him and hit the creature squarely in the chest. The shaft did not penetrate, but put a slight dent in the toadlike hide and made it take a step back.

  "Rose?!" Derrick wondered.

  "No, idiot," the archer said just as Derrick turned to regard him, "Joghra, Death General of Sevria." Another arrow slammed into the monster, but it was prepared this time and stood its ground, roaring a mighty challenge.

  "You, helping me? Why?!"

  Continuing to shoot, Joghra sneered. "I don't care about your life. But if I let all the mages of Kayland die, who will I force to teach me magic? Besides, this Spelldrinker slew my associate who I was somewhat fond of, and its head will make a fine trophy."

  Derrick watched with wide eyes while the creature charged the Sevrian, who drew his hammer. A blow to its knee made it grunt, but its backhanded slap sent the huge man flying like a rag doll. It lunged like the animal it was, and Joghra reversed his hammer and tried to transfix it the way a hunter sets his spear against a wild boar. No good—the poisoned blade snapped off without penetrating, though the hide bent sharply inward this time. Huge hands wrapped around the Sevrian and lifted him into the air. But then Joghra raised his hands, and shot both bolts from his gauntlet crossbows directly into the same eye. The beast screamed, clawed at its face, and fell.

  "Now, Derrick is it? Should you be the mage I choose to spare, or will it be... someone not friends with my enemy?" The Sevrian stepped menacingly towards the seated Derrick, who knew himself helpless against him. "I'm not sure I should kill you—after all, you were witness to this, my triumph over the Spelldrinker that destroyed nations! How about you become my personal bard then, and entertain my houseguests with stories of my greatness for the rest of your life? No, no. You'd try to murder me in my sleep, or poison me with my own poisons, at the first opportunity. Better to simply kill you, knowing that by doing so, I put a dagger of grief deep into the heart of your beloved and my despised Rose." He drew a short dirk and closed in.

  "Behind you!" Derrick said, and Joghra smirked, assuming it a last desperate ploy to escape. But as he reached down towards the scholar, a huge hand grabbed him from behind and lifted him toward a gaping maw full of rows of serrated teeth. The Spelldrinker's eye was fully healed, the bolts lying ejected on the ground. Evidently, the creature had extremely rapid healing along with near invulnerability. Now Derrick prepared to die, though at least Joghra would precede him. As the Sevrian began to enter the great mouth, the creature screamed and dropped him.

  It tried to turn around but failed, and Derrick saw a young woman a hair taller than the giant Sevrian, the one who had accompanied him and Wilner at the invasion of Gustrone, standing behind it. She held desperately onto the shaft of a halberd suited to her size, which pierced the creature through the vulnerable skin on the back of its knee. He noticed her glassy eyes and the blood oozing from her mouth, nose, and ears, and regardless of everything else felt respect for her. She'd probably had her skull broken and must be close to dying, but still bravely returned to face the monster. But bravery would avail her little, as the Spelldrinker now lifted its transfixed leg. Pulled forward, the woman stumbled and lost her grip on the embedded polearm. The beast kicked backward into her face, sending her tumbling. She lurched upright, but pink drool dripped from her mouth and her gaze looked vacant.

  "Fiona, you're still alive?" Joghra said. "Why'd you have to come back for me? It can't be killed!" He seemed to realize she probably could not hear him, and running to her grabbed her shoulders in a gesture of encouragement. "Fiona," he told the perhaps dying woman, "you're the best, most assertive minion I've ever had. Let's not lose that!" He grabbed up the fallen halberd and darted to the monster's side to hack at the damaged back of its knee. Three blows dropped it
to one knee. Joghra shifted his aim to the middle of its spine, though Derrick expected the hide to be much tougher there.

  Staggering in front of the creature, the failing Fiona threw a spear with desperate strength into its mouth, where it lodged in the thick tongue. To the shock of all, the Spelldrinker burped and spat a pile of half-digested human onto the giantess. The stuff did not seem inherently harmful, as her skin did not burn at its touch, nor did anyone faint from its mighty stink. But the sheer amount of gory material, which awed Derrick as its weight dragged the embedded polearm back out, buried the woman completely. The monster turned to Joghra. The black giant had not made much progress on the beast's spine, and its knee had healed completely. As if not wanting to deal with the annoying human anymore, the Spelleater simply flicked him away with its tail.

  It turned its sights back on Derrick and advanced. With a supreme effort that must have taken incredible will, Fiona crawled out from under her heap, and Joghra climbed slowly to his feet. The two picked their own weapons back up, the woman her halberd and the man his hammer. They both looked at the ankle of the monster, the thinnest joint they could reach, and exchanging hopeful glances swung their huge weapons at opposite sides of it. The bone did not give, but the beast roared in pain and fell to the ground nonetheless.

  It landed beneath the shadow of a great oak tree, giving Derrick an idea. Unsure how to address his temporary allies, he settled on "Guys!" as he stood up. Joghra looked, and seeing him turn Fiona followed suit. Derrick pointed to the deafened Fiona, then to the tree, then to the monster. She understood, and stumbled as fast as she could towards the trunk. "Keep it occupied while she drops that tree on it! When it's pinned, we'll take its face off. And give me your pick!"