Return to Dragon Planet: Book one of the Dragon Planet Trilogy

by S A Robertson

  First though, the dwarf would have to survive the seething plunge which was fast approaching. Blake was now scrambling far behind and watched helplessly as Uldo, spinning like a top, approached the brink of the first set of falls and then dropped out of sight. Blake had no idea whether the dwarf could swim or had any instinct to drive himself up to the surface again. And for a couple of alarming heartbeats Uldo disappeared entirely into the churn. If he had found himself snagged by a sunken tree branch or sharp rock under the full force of the water there, he would most certainly drown. It was to Blake’s relief, therefore, that farther down the river the dwarf popped up again, flailing and flapping, his voice loud enough to climb above the roar.

  Now this was the moment of truth. The rocks approached. Blake didn’t expect Uldo would be able to pull himself free of the water. The rocks would be slippery, and he was too far out of reach from the shore. Rather, he hoped the dwarf would simply buy himself a little time, clinging there so that Blake could reach the narrowing of the river.

  Blake hastened on, pushing himself to as fast a pace as he dared, and jumped down closer to the shore. Uldo rushed toward the rocks. The first of three large boulders loomed. Blake saw that the dwarf at least had the strength to try and grasp for a handhold, only to hit the boulder side-on. Uldo was thrown clear, turning with his back to the next. This he struck with such force Blake wondered if the dwarf was knocked senseless. But, as Uldo spun about toward the third, he outstretched his arms and somehow splayed himself against it, clinging there like a tiny, bedraggled piece of flotsam.

  He’d done it! Blake had to admire the dwarf’s strength and sense of survival. He doubted he would have been quite so robust. Now it all depended on how long Uldo could keep himself from being torn back into the rapids, which were frothing and seething around him.

  Now it was up to Blake.

  Putting on a new spurt of speed, Blake raced as fast as he could down a shingled slope, keeping to the narrowing shore. Soon he was level to where Uldo was still trying desperately to haul himself up and out of the water. Had not the noise of the river been too great, Blake would have tried to shout at him to stop these pointless efforts. The dwarf’s desperate actions would likely put him in more jeopardy than save him. Instead, with his lungs burning too painfully anyway, Blake didn’t bother to raise his voice and concentrated on reaching the edge of the waterfall.

  Entering a thin, swirling haze, Blake breathlessly came to a halt. He knew he only had one chance to save the dwarf, and turning his attention to the forest, encroaching closely against the shore, he soon found the perfect candidate.

  The laser-edged bush machete had already proved its worth by chopping the head off a wyvern. Now it would be put to a more pedestrian use, although just as important, as he scrambled up to what looked like a yellow-barked apple cedar. It was a slim, tough-trunked tree with a twisted thatch of branches, and was tall enough for Blake’s purpose. So, pulling the machete free from its sheath, he held it away from his body as the edge of the blade sang with its hot yellow light. Then he began to chop, the laser cutting into the wood as if it were clay, throwing out blackened splinters.

  And not a moment too soon.

  By the time Blake had almost severed the trunk, Uldo—exhausted from his efforts to cling to the rock—was finally ripped free by the hungry force of the water. He spun back into the rapids and was immediately thrown into two more shallow waterfalls in quick succession. However, as the dwarf gasped up from the surface again, he was too blinded by the swirl of the river to see the cedar tree eventually come crashing down between the two narrow shores to span the bottleneck just before the waterfall. Even as he approached it, and at last became aware of his potential for escape, he had barely the strength to raise up his arms to grasp at one of the trailing branches.

  It was therefore Blake’s efforts that rescued the dwarf in the end. For having inched his way across the fallen log, using trailing branches to steady himself, Blake thrust a hand down and managed to snag Uldo’s pack. Then, with a great roar, his sinews protesting, Blake levered Uldo up and out of the river where they both clung to the felled tree as the waterfall plunged a hundred feet into a deep, black pool far below.

  3

  They built Uldo a fire on the water’s edge and suggested he take off his sodden clothes. The dwarf refused. Instead, he hunkered against a rock, exhausted and shivering, his hands held out to the flames. Blake took his second flask out of his pack and offered it to the dwarf after taking a long pull himself.

  “Well,” Maddox said, “we’re quite a lot farther down the river at least. That’s something.”

  Blake didn’t find the joke funny and levelled a chilly stare at Maddox. “We’re alive,” he said. “That’s all that matters.”

  “You speak for yourself,” Uldo sputtered, handing the flask back to Blake. “I’ll probably die of some waterborne disease. Or pneumonia.”

  “I didn’t think dwarfs suffered from such things,” said Maddox.

  “That’s not the point! I nearly drowned!”

  “And Blake saved you,” Nyara pointed out. “You could at least show a little gratitude.”

  “Gratitude? By the gods! If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have fallen in the river to begin with!”

  Nyara stiffened. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  “What do you think? No one else almost lost their life. And you were still on the other side of the river when the rope came loose.”

  “I had nothing to do with that! It was an accident.”

  “My foot it was.”

  “Then do you mind explaining to me what I could possibly gain from depleting the party?”

  “How should I know? All elves are crazy. Maybe you just saw an opportunity to rid the galaxy of another dwarf and you took it.”

  Blake was too tired and irritable for such bickering.

  “Alright, that’s enough!” he snapped. “What are we, children? It was an accident. Okay? Plain and simple.” Blake screwed up his flask and dragged himself to his feet. “Now, if everyone has had quite enough rest, we need to push on. We’re already behind schedule.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  1

  The corpses were already rotting. Gemini had seen this happen before. It was as if the forest was reclaiming the bodies of the two dryads at accelerated speed, absorbing them into the earth after just a few hours of death. Nothing was wasted in this place; a reminder of the cyclical nature of all life. Still, despite it obviously being some time since the encounter had occurred, she was thankful she had arrived here before the bodies had been entirely eaten away or hauled into the brush by scavengers. It meant she was on the right track and gaining, too. The footprints on the forest floor were barely a few hours old. Now they headed off toward the southeast, and from what she remembered, this was where the dragon was said to have established its territory.

  Gemini bent down to examine the prints more closely again. They whirled about in a chaotic pattern, the result, no doubt, of the dryads’ attack. As there appeared to be no other corpses, it seemed the party was proficient enough to deal with such dangerous threats. And significantly, in the manner that the dryads had been dispatched, Gemini was able to confirm some of her earlier suspicions as to the make-up of the hunting troop.

  The first obvious clue was the blackened scorch mark in one of the trees (which itself was healing remarkably quickly), suggesting to Gemini that someone had embedded a power blade in the bark. By the thickness and depth of the cut, this was most likely a lightning axe. And by the angle? Wielded by someone of below average height. This had to be the dwarf.

  As to the gunfire: the wounds told her that one was from a high velocity rifle, and the other by something far more blunt and powerful. Some of the upper branches were burnt, exposing the higher reaches of the canopy. A torch cannon, perhaps? That was heavy equipment. What manner of hunter could shoulder such a burden over such difficult terrain?

  Standing, Gemini then wandered
to another spot to consider more sets of prints. It looked probable that one of the marksmen was human. About six feet in height by her estimate, heavy set, and remembering the wounds on one of the dryads, Gemini reckoned a decent shot. Such a cluster pattern intimated this person had some military training. Certainly, the weapon used (an M18 Jag Rifle by the wounds on the dryads) was preferred by special forces on Genek IV. That was less of a surprise. Ex-army types often ended up as guns for hire across the Void. And even in the higher echelons of the military, pay had never been great, and details could be very challenging. Therefore, once they left the service, the only way for some of these people to earn a decent crust was to go into private security or less salubrious professions, such as specialist security operatives, mercenaries, or hunters.

  Which was quite unlike the other set of moderately-sized footprints. These, like the deep, size eighteens, gave away fewer clues. Lighter and smaller than the other human it appeared this person had got themselves into trouble. At one point, they had been lying on the ground: there was a faint arm and handprint visible amongst the scuffling footprints. Other than that, no clue as to their nature.

  So, at least three of the group knew how to use weapons proficiently. And as she moved to the outer edge of where the melee had occurred, she also found more faint prints suggestive of an elf. That confirmed to Gemini the group had some indigenous help, perhaps using the elf as their guide.

  Still, whatever the precise make-up of the party, the fact remained that the group was odd, and small if their intention were to take on the dragon. Most usually, according to the documented dragon slayings she had pored over at the Academy, hunting parties were much larger. They had to be. Killing an adult dragon—especially a Red Matriarch—needed a lot of firepower. So, were these hunters simply naïve about what they were letting themselves in for? Or did they know that a much larger hunting party might be a disadvantage, allowing the dragon to sense their advance?

  Gemini lifted her eyes into the canopy again. She didn’t want to fall prey herself. Dryads were notoriously canny and excellent at snagging unwary prey. And while she couldn’t detect any movement in the branches, this didn’t mean she felt entirely at ease. There was the smell of a bog nearby, and that often meant other predators could be drawn to the area. And she had a vague, faint prickling that she was being watched.

  So perhaps standing around here isn’t such a great idea, Gem, she thought to herself. You need to get going again.

  Stepping back from the dryad corpses, Gemini climbed up onto a shelf of moss-covered rock, pausing only to pick out the retreating prints of the hunting party to offer a way forward. They had been moving quickly by this point, most likely at a run, to outpace their attackers. Gemini doubted they would have been able to keep up such speed for long and saw no necessity in mirroring such a clip. So, she started down the rise at a walk, only to stop suddenly in her tracks, turn, and fling herself aside.

  She had moved more out of instinct than out of any real perception that she was under attack. Perhaps there had been the slightest of noises that had alerted her? Or maybe it was the faintest of shadows in the trees to her right, interrupting the sunlight? Either way, her hunch had been correct, for in throwing herself to ground, there was a whine just past her right ear, and just where her head had been, a branch exploded into splinters of bark.

  Landing painfully on her back, Gemini scrabbled for her pistol and pulled it free from its holster. She rolled onto her side, firing in the direction of the attack (another instinctive move), and saw, for just an instant, the blur of a figure flashing through the trees and disappearing into the brush. The branch where the figure had once stood shook with the force of the pulse blast and leaves rained down. This offered Gemini enough cover to clamber stiffly to her feet, and not a moment too soon. She dodged again. In the gloom of the forest there were a couple star-burst flashes of gunfire and the tree trunk behind Gemini spat more splinters of bark over her head.

  Then she ran.

  Gemini had no idea in which direction she was heading. In the sudden shock of the attack, her mind was reeling: Who the hell was firing at her? Was it the hunting party? Had they known they were being followed and doubled-back? But that didn’t seem to make any sense. If that was the case, why hadn’t they just waited and ambushed her when she reached them?

  She thrashed through some low-hanging branches, doing her best to take stock of her surroundings in her panic. But now she was completely turned around. Was she heading south or east? She couldn’t tell, and as she stumbled on, she heard another faint report, and a white dart of light zipped out of the trees and struck her on the shoulder. Gemini cried out in pain. The force of the blow was such that she spun around as a fierce hot sting seared through her arm and she clattered into a tree. But at least she had the presence of mind to lurch behind it and, once behind it, brought her hand up to the rip in her poncho. Her sweaty palm was scarlet from blood. She’d been hit, although it looked like the wound was little more than a glancing blow and superficial. Lucky. One inch to her left and it might have opened an artery or shattered bone.

  Relieved, but still in agony, Gemini flattened herself against the tree trunk, breathing hard. Then she peeked out from behind it and stared out into the forest. Shafts of sunlight scattered through the canopy. There was no other movement, merely a few lazily drifting leaves falling to the ground. Then Gemini was sure that there was the faintest flicker of movement, and the next assault came.

  Gemini ducked down behind the tree as the trunk was peppered with stuttering sparks. She swore, thankful that the tree was wide enough to shield her, as shavings of wood went flying. Whoever was firing at her was a deadly aim, and Gemini knew unless she moved soon, the enemy would simply move into a better position and pick her off. She waited, squinting. The barrage suddenly came to a halt, and Gemini took her chance.

  Darting out of her hiding place, Gemini jagged to her left, then orientated herself to where she guessed she was being fired upon. She only hoped the pause in the assault was because the attacker was reloading, and, sure enough, as she crashed through a stand of bushes and dropped into a hollow, she found herself confronting a tall figure dressed in a camo-cloak and hood, crouched on the edge of a slope. It was thumbing more rounds into the rifle’s breech resting on its knee.

  Immediately, Gemini lifted her pulse pistol to fire. But upon seeing her, the figure, out of desperation, swung the rifle around and tossed it right at Gemini before she could get a clean shot.

  Gemini was struck by the weapon on the arm and her pulse blast went astray. Screeching birds exploded out of the branches above. And now Gemini was momentarily off guard as she tried to level her pistol again only for her opponent to bolt forward and slap her arm aside. Gemini grunted in surprise. Her attacker moved with incredible speed and her pulse pistol was jarred from her grip. Then came back another blow, this time a stiff punch to her wounded shoulder.

  Gemini stumbled back with a yell of pain, clasping at her wound, which offered her attacker the chance to yank free a wicked, serrated knife from its belt.

  “Wait!” Gemini tried to make a grab for the butt of her pulse rifle on her back. “I’m Ranger Patrol! I’m a representative of the Free People’s Assembly.”

  “You think I care about that?” growled her opponent—a male voice by the sounds of it, with a thick accent.

  Before Gemini could swing her pulse rifle around her shoulder, he was upon her again, the knife slashing down. All Gemini could do was throw out a hand and catch her attacker by the wrist. The tip of the blade dropped to barely an inch from her eye. Drawing on her close-combat training, she twisted her attacker’s wrist, then threw her weight forward, driving him back and hearing a croak of surprise issue from the hood. Finally, Gemini had an advantage. She could feel her attacker was off balance and, jamming the knife away from her with one hand, she hooked the back of her heel against the attacker’s ankle, hoping to destabilise him. The only problem was that they were s
tumbling backwards towards the slope. Gemini realised too late they were going to go over.

  2

  Gemini tried to dance away, desperate to extricate herself, only to find her attacker was snatching at the collar of her uniform. And before she could peel his fingers away, he was dragging her with him. Her feet slipped, and with a shout she was dragged over the edge.

  They tumbled. And almost immediately their grips loosed as Gemini hit the ground hard, bright pain flaring across her shoulder as she rolled. But there no chance to slow her fall. The slope was slick and muddy, and there was nothing to cling onto as she slid down the sharp incline and over a small ledge, landing heavily in a damp, puddled hollow, throwing up a great splash of putrid water. It was enough to knock the wind out of her. For a few seconds, Gemini was simply at the mercy of the agony piercing her back and arm and across her ribcage, as she coughed and rolled on her side, wiping away the foul-smelling brackish water from her eyes and mouth. There was also a putrid odour close by. The source of which became obvious as she eventually managed to push herself upright.