My feet were moving before I made the conscious decision to run, and I sprinted toward the hole after the goblin. But the little fucker was faster than me, even with its stubby legs, and my heart sank as I realized I would reach the cliff literally two seconds behind it. I had only one choice.
Without slowing, I aimed and hurled the heavy axe at a spot a few feet in front of the fleeing creature. The red-painted head glinted in the sunlight as it whirled end over end toward the goblin, and I held my breath.
The axe head missed the goblin, but the long wooden handle smacked it a glancing blow on the side of the head. It stumbled off-balance and fell like a tipped over trash can. That was all I needed to catch up. I’d never been much of a football player, but I channeled my inner placekicker as I brought my boot up with a kick that would have won me the Super Bowl. The little creature flew the remaining five feet and slammed into the cliff face with a bone-jarring crunch. It left a trail of black blood as it slid down the wall and collapsed into a limp heap at the mouth of the hole.
“Now!” Nyvea cried. “Siphon its magic before it dies.”
Even if it did appear incapacitated, I pounced atop the goblin’s back and drove my knee into its spine so it couldn’t get up or lash out at me. Then I drew in a deep breath and reached for the magic within the creature. It took a lot more effort to find it, for the thread of fire running through its veins was much smaller than the torrent that had held the rock troll together. I seized it without hesitation and pulled the magic from the goblin and into my body. It gave a weak little scream as I siphoned its power, but I didn’t let up.
Heat raced through my body, and I felt that same sizzling pain in my right shoulder. I gritted my teeth but didn’t stop siphoning the creature’s magic into myself. Every ache and pain in my muscles faded as power infused my bones, muscles, and nerves like a thousand tiny sparks ran through my veins. It was an exhilarating feeling, and I felt disappointment fill my stomach when I absorbed the last of the creature’s magic.
“Amazing,” I breathed, and I flexed my muscles as I climbed off the now lifeless goblin. “Is this how magic always feels?”
“It is,” Nyvea said, and I heard triumph in her voice. “And that’s just from a small creature. Imagine how much more power you could have had if you absorbed it all from the rock troll.”
“Or a dragon,” I said, and I suddenly understood what Nyvea meant when she said that I would one day be awesomely powerful. “What can I do with this new magic?”
“You felt the fire that filled the creature’s veins?” she asked. “A small measure of that same fire now flows in yours. You can use it to stay warm on even the coldest night.”
“Well, that’s going to come in very handy when we enter the frost lands,” I said with a grin. “Anything else?”
“You absorbed a tiny fraction of the rock troll’s magic, the same magic that shaped it from the very stones of the cliff.”
“So, I can use it to talk to stones?” I asked and let out a little laugh.
“No.” I had no doubt my amulet would have rolled her eyes if it had any. “Your skin has become harder, like the troll’s.”
“Sweet! Will arrows and swords bounce off me?” The power reminded me of one of my favorite rock-skinned characters from the comic books I’d read as a kid, but I saw that my skin didn’t look any different.
“Had you absorbed more of the magic, perhaps. Given the small amount you siphoned, you’ll hardly notice a difference.”
“Damn,” I sighed. “Well, at least I’ve got the power of the fire goblins, right?”
“Yes, but be cautious not to use it before you need it, or else you might use it up.”
“Wait, what? I can use up the magic?”
“Think of magic as wine and your body as the wine pitcher,” she told me. “Every time you siphon magic, you fill the pitcher. Every time you use the magic, you empty it.”
“So, if I use too much, I’ll run out? Damn, that sucks.” I’d thought magic was an all-powerful force I could use over and over again, but I guess it made sense that the power had its limitations.
“The larger the vessel, the more magic it feeds you. Which is why dragons are the key to unlocking your powers. They are creatures made of magic itself, with such power that they will fill your pitcher to overflowing. In fact, thanks to your tattoos, there is a way you can access unlimited power without running out.”
“Really?” Excitement set my heart pounding.
“Look at your right shoulder,” Nyvea told me.
I glanced at my shoulder. One of the goblins had slashed through my tunic, just beneath the hem of my scale mail shirt, and I could see the tattoo through the rip. Once solid black, the strange dye now had threads of red running through it, and the tattoos glowed with a faint golden light.
“Each tattoo grants you unlimited access to a specific magical power. By killing the dragon and siphoning off its magic, you will power up the corresponding tattoo. Then you will be able to use that power without fear of running out of magic. But only the dragons have enough magic to power up the tattoos fully. Creatures like this will only give you a small dose.”
My head spun with this crash course in magic. “So, with the amount of magic I just absorbed, how many times can I use the body heat power?”
“The duration of your power depends on the amount of heat you need to produce. If you want to manifest a fireball, it will require a great deal of power. To keep warm in cold weather, far less magic is required.”
My eyes went wide at the word “fireball.”
“But again, heed my warning and save your magic until you need it most. Until you have powered up the tattoo, your limitations could make you vulnerable if you are without magic in a dire situation.”
“Got it,” I said, even if my brain was still struggling to make sense of it all.
The sound of crunching rocks behind me snapped me back to reality, and I turned to face the noise. My conversation with Nyvea had distracted me from the battle, and I only now realized I could be in danger.
“Easy, lad,” Adath said as he held up his hands and glanced at my bloody axe. “It’s just me.”
“Adath,” I replied with a sigh of relief, “did we get them all?”
“Aye, every one of the stinkin’ bastards,” the bearded man said with a nod. “Not one escaped to warn Riamod of our presence.” He held out the hatchet I’d thrown at the fleeing goblin.
“Great,” I said as I took the weapon. “That was close.”
“You did good.” Adath looked at the goblin corpse behind me. “Quick thinking, throwing your axe like that. And that kick of yours. Unorthodox, but effective enough.”
“Thanks,” I said and grinned. “How are the others?”
“Most survived with little more than scrapes and cuts. Harlin, though…” he trailed off, and a frown wrinkled his forehead.
I followed him back toward the Gray Hunter who had charged the rock trolls beside us. The man lay silent and still, his face pale. The troll’s fist had crushed his ribs inward, and I knew at a glance that he’d died from punctured lungs or massive internal hemorrhage. With a sigh, Adath stooped over Harlin and gently closed his eyes.
The sound of moaning from behind me brought my head around. Grendis lay on the ground with his hand clasped to his thigh. Blood pooled on the ground beneath him, and pain contorted his face.
I rushed toward the Gray Hunter and knelt beside his leg. “Let me take a look at it,” I insisted.
“Don’t touch me!” Grendis snarled and bared his teeth.
“I’m trained in the healing arts,” I told him. “I’ve treated worse wounds than this.”
“I’m not interested in your help.” Grendis glared at me.
“I need to see if the artery is severed, or if it’s just a wound to the muscle and flesh.” I fixed him with a hard stare. “You’ve lost a lot of blood, but you’ve got a good chance of walking away from this with little more than a scar, but only
if you let me take a look at it.”
Grendis didn’t move his hands, but his face was as hard as the ground beneath him.
“Give in, you stubborn idiot,” Adath said and smacked the back of Grendis’ head. “Only a fool would refuse help.”
With a growl, Grendis allowed me to remove his hands, and he hissed as I pulled the flaps of skin apart. EMT training in the Academy hadn’t exactly included spear or sword cuts, but wounds were wounds. I studied the gash and finally shook my head.
“The artery’s intact,” I said. “All we need is to stitch this up, and your leg’ll heal.”
Adath handed me a small wooden case, which contained a needle and some sort of strong, stretchy thread. After I washed the wound with moonshine from one of the Gray Hunters’ private supply, I set about sewing up Grendis’ wound. Three minutes and forty-two stitches later, I wrapped one of the Gray Hunters’ spare tunics around his leg and tied it tight.
“He’s going to need to stay off the leg for a while, else the wound will re-open,” I told Sir Galfred, who had come to hover over my shoulder while I worked.
“Not much place to convalesce around here, is there?” Grendis snarled at me.
“No, but there is in Whitespire,” the knight said.
“What?” Grendis snapped, and his eyebrows flew upward.
“You’re heading back to Whitespire at once, and you’re taking Harlin’s body with you.” Sir Galfred folded his arms across his chest and gave Grendis a look that brooked no argument. “We can’t leave his corpse lying here, or Riamod’s minions will know we passed through. Someone needs to take him back, and given that you need to stay off your feet, that makes you the best candidate.”
“But Sir Galfred, I—”
“Will be sorely missed,” the knight cut him off with a shake of his head. “Your arrows just saved our lives and kept the fire goblins from escaping. But the mission is too important for us to risk anything that could slow us down or impede our progress. That leg of yours will do just that, so I cannot have you continue on with us.”
Grendis’ face went ashen, and he let out a frustrated groan.
“But let there be no doubt about your courage and grit,” Sir Galfred continued, reaching out a hand to help Grendis to stand. “When we return in triumph, you will receive full honors alongside those who continue on beside me. You have my word as a knight of Whitespire.”
After a long moment, the rangy man nodded. “As you command, Sir Galfred.”
The knight motioned for Adath and another of the Gray Hunters to help Grendis to his horse, and two more Gray Hunters strapped Harlin’s corpse in place atop his saddle.
Sir Galfred turned to me with a curious expression. “A fighter of fires, a mighty warrior, and a healer,” he said. “You truly are a curiosity, Ethan DePaolo. Are you hurt?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said and shook my head. “I got some of the fire goblin blood on me, but I wiped it off before it did any damage.”
“Ah, of course,” the knight said. “It’s where their name comes from. Their blood leaves cloth and steel unharmed, but can burn flesh far worse than the strongest acid if you’re not careful.” He clapped me on the back. “You fought well for your first battle. I saw you take down that troll, and it was well done.”
“Adath got the party started,” I replied with a grin. “I just finished the job.”
“All the same, you have proved yourself a brave warrior worthy of this quest. I will be sure to inform the king of your actions here.”
“Thank you,” I said, and I sincerely meant it.
“Told you people would like you once they got to know you,” Nyvea said in my mind. “Soon, everyone will love you as much as I do.”
“Let’s move out,” Sir Galfred commanded. “We’ve a lot of ground to cover before dark.”
We were silent as we mounted up and departed, and all of the Gray Hunters glanced over their shoulder in farewell to their two comrades. Grendis’ figure grew smaller across the plain as he rode, with one hand on the reins of the horse hauling Harlin’s body.
The narrow mountain trail cut a jagged path through the steep cliffs and soon blocked our view of the blasted lands of fire between us and the safety of the forest. The silence thickened with every passing hour, and it seemed a blanket of gloom descended over the entire company. Even Sir Galfred said little, and only gave the occasional order or asked the lead Gray Hunter, a man named Cresset, questions about our path.
We camped without a fire, each of us huddled in our blankets alone with our thoughts. I hadn’t known Harlin, but his death seemed to hit the rest of the Gray Hunters hard, and the only sound in camp that evening was the sloshing of the rum in the canteen passed around.
Morning dawned as gray and cold as the blasted stone around us. We ate a small breakfast in silence and mounted up with little conversation. The events of yesterday clearly imprinted on the minds of all the men traveling with me.
We had all joined this quest knowing we were risking our lives. Being a firefighter meant exposing myself to danger on a daily basis, but it was a different sort of peril. I could lose my life in a fire, as I nearly had in the Silver Star Tower, but I’d never felt like the flames were out to kill me. Fire was a force of nature, driven by the laws of physics, not some beast or monster.
I had trained to save lives, yet yesterday I had killed without hesitation. It didn’t matter that they were monsters who were trying to kill us. In that battle, something had changed within me. I’d wanted to kill those goblins and trolls. Not only in self-defense, but I’d recognized the old rage that had burned in me after my parents’ death. I’d thought I had gotten past it, yet here it was, returning to haunt me.
I didn’t really know the Gray Hunter who had died, so I couldn’t feel too sorry for him. Instead, I focused on what I’ve accomplished so far and what I needed to do to hit my goals. I had just survived my first battle and kicked serious monster ass. I had also used my magical abilities for the first time and gotten enough power that I could actually use it. Thanks to my EMT training, I’d saved Grendis and received a commendation from Sir Galfred. I felt happier than I had in a long time.
I also felt powerful.
The thought followed me as we rode along the narrow mountain trail. Steep cliffs rose all around us and blocked everything but our immediate surroundings from view. I occasionally felt a prickling at the back of my neck. It was the same sensation I’d felt the day before when we ran into those monsters, so I asked Nyvea about it.
“You’re feeling the magic in the creatures. The Mark of the Guardian has given you the ability to feel the power, and it will help you find it in the future in order to siphon it into yourself.”
“Will I always be able to sense it?” I asked.
“Only in the creatures shaped by magic.”
“And what about humans?” I asked as a thought struck me. “Why can’t I feel Sir Galfred or any of the Gray Hunters right next to me?”
“Humans are creatures of earth, untouched by magic. In terms of power, they are as dead as the stones at your feet or the sky above your head.”
After her explanation, I paid closer attention to those feelings in the back of my mind and tried to sense the presence of more creatures in the mountains. If I had enough warning, we could either avoid the monsters or be ready in case of an ambush.
But I never got more than the faintest hint of anything, barely more than a brush in my thoughts, never as strong as it had been crossing the burned lands.
I shivered as a chilling wind whistled down the narrow mountain trail toward us. I’d noticed the day had been getting colder even as the sun rose high into the sky, and some of the Gray Hunters produced thick fur cloaks from their packs. I’d practiced using the body heat magic, so I hadn’t felt the cold, but when I turned it off, the icy chill hit me harder than the winds that ripped through Chicago. I quickly dug out my own fur cloak and pulled it around my shoulders.
The wind no
longer carried the strong smell of smoke. Instead, it had a sharp edge, one I recognized from my days skating in the Tribune Ice Rink at Millennium Park back in Chicago. There was ice ahead.
We came around a bend in the trail, and the mountains beside us changed from blasted volcanic stone to sheer cliffs of snow and ice. Our breath misted in the air, and snowflakes drifted on the wind. One minute we were on bare rocks, and the next we rode into thick snow drifts.
We had reached the land of Frosdar, the ice dragon.
Chapter Ten
A nervous silence hung over our party as we rode into the ice-covered land. The massive cliffs beside the trail rose like solid walls of white, and they let off a chill that I felt seeping through my furs into my bones. I gripped the handle of my axe tighter and tried to focus on my surroundings. If any monsters were hiding around us, I wanted to know before we were ambushed.
The trail wound through the ice cliffs for another mile before the mountains ended, and a great, empty expanse of ice stretched out in front of us. My eyes ran across the flat land toward the single sharp mountain peak in the distance. The mountain looked like it was ten or fifteen miles away, and nothing but a barren sea of ice stood between us.
“Frosdan’s lair,” Sir Galfred said in a hushed voice. “We’ll find the ice dragon there.”
I felt a little nervousness tightening in my gut, yet excitement ran through me as well. We were getting closer to our destination where I’d face my first dragon, and the danger of my quest was starting to sink in.
“Keep an eye out for crevasses,” Sir Galfred told us all. “We’ve already lost two of our number, and we can ill-afford any more losses. We will need as many men as possible to defeat the dragon.” He nudged his horse into motion and rode out onto the flat plains of ice.
The rest of us followed in silence. The magnitude of our quest had just gotten a lot more real as we saw our destination, and I had no doubt everyone else was picturing our enemy and the coming fight.
The two Gray Hunters at the head of our column chose the path through the thicker snow drifts rather than over the ice where the horses’ hooves would slip. The soft white powder muffled the sound of our passage, and it seemed we rode through a dead world where the only noise was the whispering of the wind.
Dragon Slayer: A Pulp Fantasy Harem Adventure Page 13