Pure of Heart (the New Age Saga Book 2)

by Timothy A. Ray

  It sounded eerily familiar and by the look on Melissa’s face, she was well aware of that.

  “She will not stop this time until the entire world burns to ash and nothing is left. Even you will not be safe from her clutches. Other dragons have taken to the air in support of her cause, and last time I checked, they didn’t have a high regard for the lone outsider hiding within his precious mountains,” Merlin responded with a hint of sarcasm.

  Was he purposely goading a dragon?

  “Let them try,” the older man snarled, gripping his staff tightly. “If they were so confident, they would’ve moved against me long before now.” Yet, even though he talked tough, something was softening in the old man’s eyes as he looked south towards the mountain ranges beyond. “Nothing short of killing you will stop you, will it?”

  Merlin shook his head.

  Wyrddlin sighed. “Then you may pass.”

  “Thank you,” Melissa answered for the other mage, bowing her head.

  He looked into eastern sky and saw a few dots on the horizon. “Uh, what is that?” he blurted out while pointing at the objects winging south.

  Wyrddlin turned and followed his gaze, eyes narrowing. Then he growled. “More trespassers, seems the influx of uninvited guest is at an all-time high.”

  Merlin’s eyes were following the specks as well, and he suddenly rose to his feet and roared, “Get the griffins saddled, we need to leave now!”

  “Why?” Willow asked, stunned by the mage’s explosive outburst. Dusk was fast approaching; they’d have a hard time navigating the mountain passages in the dark.

  Melissa was rising as well, followed by the older man, who took more interest in the tiny blips in the sky. “Seems like you were right,” Wyrddlin told the mage, while the man hurriedly packed.

  He was up as well, throwing his stuff together, but he still didn’t see what the problem was. It was probably just a couple of large birds.

  “Those aren’t birds, they’re dragons,” Merlin told them and a sickening feeling fell in Tristan’s stomach.

  Here we go again.

  Chapter 12

  City of Silver and Gold

  I

  Tristan couldn’t help but look over at the silver dragon flying next to them, his scales reflecting in the soft moonlight. He had been busy packing when the old man had assumed his natural state and had been stunned to see the enormous beast watching them intently as they climbed onto their griffins and took flight. Even though he’d been surrounded by magic recently, he still couldn’t help but be surprised whenever he saw it used. He was just glad that he didn’t have any control over it himself, he’d be too terrified to use it; afraid of shooting his foot off or worse.

  The griffins had been agitated with the sudden change in plans. Flying in the darkness, which might at any moment erupt in dragonfire, was not a persuasive argument to win them over. Kallen, their leader, had harsh words with Merlin before they’d taken flight, and Tristan had heard the griffin’s reluctant reply when finally giving in to the mage’s will. It would have been odd thing, refusing Merlin, he’d yet to see anyone pull that off.

  Mountains loomed on either side as they banked their way along a river heading south. He was less excited this time; his eyes constantly drawn east, checking for any sign of the enemy.

  How did anyone know where they were going? Did the Phoenix still have eyes on them? That was a disturbing thought. He’d thought they’d left the last of her agents behind when they’d found Preik’s corpse, could someone else amongst their group be a traitor as well? Could he trust anyone other than Willow?

  He marveled once more at the speed in which the countryside flew past. Flying was different than any other mode of travel he’d ever experienced. With horses, you could see your destination from afar and it never seemed to approach until you were right there.

  This was totally different.

  The landscape changed so fast his mind raced to keep up. They could probably span the entire known world in the matter of days if they had a mind too. He wondered if he’d ever be able to ride a horse again without feeling like he was moving in slow motion.

  As the moon rose overhead he saw the eastern mountainside begin to pull away. Training his eyes east, he still didn’t see anything alarming, but as he moved his gaze south, he caught sight of something that made him catch his breath. Nestled against the mountainside in a small valley was an enormous fortress, larger than Lancaster and probably Forlorn combined. How had anything that large ever been built? How many men would it take to defend it?

  Even through the dim light he could see that it was a very old and that nature was slowly reclaiming the land it had been built on. Trees had forced their way through the walls, as if they were always a part of it rather than destroying the ancient ruins with their continued growth. The ramparts still looked solid, but the roofs of the towers had along ago disappeared to the elements. Large boulders had smashed their way through parts of the castle, portions of the city lying in rubble; almost indistinguishable from the invading mountainside.

  The griffins banked east, heading for a small clearing in front of what must have been the royal palace. As he took in the landscape, in his mind he pictured what it would look like restored to its formal glory, and he felt a longing in his heart to see it happen. Such a place deserved to be well kept, not left to slowly fade into history.

  Home! Some hidden voice within cried and he shied away from the alien voice. He’d had enough of that shit to fill a lifetime. He would get help to shield his mind or he would walk. He needed his privacy back!

  He slid from the saddle almost immediately after they touched down; taking a moment to adjust the armor he’d barely had time to put on. Then he turned to help Willow dismount.

  As much as he wanted to continue checking out the ruins of the fortress, he couldn’t help but look north, wondering if those dragons were really heading this way or if they’d overreacted.

  “Kallen, probably best if your clan patrols from the air, not much good to us here on the ground,” Merlin advised the griffin leader.

  “Holler when you’re ready to leave this ancient graveyard,” the gruff voice of the griffin responded, then took to the air.

  Reyna and Kore approached the mage, Jared hanging back, his face reflecting that he was using his powers to scan the area as well. Bleak was hollering about something on Melissa’s shoulder, but no one was paying attention to the tiny voice; Tristan could barely make out what he was saying anyways. Trek was lying next to Willow’s ankle, cleaning himself once more, as if totally disregarding the danger that might even now be descending upon them.

  “Where do we begin?” Reyna asked, Kylee and Tuskar checking the perimeter while Merlin considered the question. Turning in the direction of the silver dragon, they were surprised to find that Wyrddlin wasn’t amongst them, as a dragon or in his human form.

  “Where did—?” he began, but was cut off by a bellow from the direction of the ruined palace as a large group of orcs charged into view, weapons raised in ambush. Where the hell had they come from? He’d seen the valley coming in, it would have taken them at least a week to travel here. How long had they been lying in wait?

  There was laughter from their rear and while he was drawing his sword, he turned to see two dragons marching their way up the rubble-filled road. The enemy had beaten them there and had somehow been hidden from view as they approached. He’d been so busy looking to the northern sky—

  Clint was sitting astride a black dragon, his laughter making Tristan’s blood turn cold. The man that murdered his parents was right there. He took his shield and fixed it to his arm just as Kore and Reyna met the oncoming horde. Merlin’s magic was flying and Jared was swinging his staff at the first attacker that came in range. Willow hadn’t turned around yet, she was too busy trying to aid their companions withstand the sudden surprise attack. Trek had shapeshifted into a tiger and had launched himself into the fray.

  As much as he wante
d to help them, he couldn’t focus on that while Clint was right there, taunting him. He roared and prepared to charge the laughing assassin when he saw a red armored orc dismount, blocking his path. The orc was larger than any he’d ever seen before in his life. The armor had holes eaten into it, yet still looked too formidable for conventional attack. He’d obviously been in a battle recently and he wondered who won that particular fight?

  He needed help.

  “Kylee!” he yelled over his shoulder, noticing that the ranger was using her long knives to attack, while Tuskar kept the next group at bay with his fangs.

  As she dispatched her attacker, she shifted her eyes towards the dragons, and the look that came over her face told him all he needed to know. She recognized the man on the dragon as well. Fury broke out in a sneer and faster than his eye could track, her bow was in hand and an arrow was whistling through the air.

  The orc knocked it down with a very large battle axe, as if he was merely swatting at a fly. The effortlessness of the act left him stunned and concerned that maybe they wouldn’t make it out of this one alive.

  A roar of outrage pierced the air behind him and Tuskar howled a second later, adding his voice to his partner’s fury. Kylee charged past him before he could even react and he moved to follow after.

  Melissa stepped forward and began attacking the red armored orc, hitting him with green fire repeatedly, as Kylee dove past a quick burst of dragonfire. Dodging it easily, she brought her bow to bear once more and let loose another missile at her enemy.

  Clint was off his dragon by the time it pierced the air he’d only moments before occupied and he could hear the man yelling at them from behind the enormous beast. “Sending a woman to fight your battles, Prince of Lancaster? You that much of a coward? I’ve got what you’ve come for, and once I take it back to my Queen, I’ll forever cement my place at her side!”

  He had Dragonslayer? How long had they been here?

  Merlin hissed at him, sending a fireball into a group of attacking orcs as he turned to face Tristan. “Go after him, we need that sword!”

  No shit!

  A very large bellow rocked the mountainside and a large silver dragon dove into view, breathing fire on his grounded kin; drawing their attention. On his rear were the griffins, their own cries adding to the Wyrddlin’s rage.

  The red dragon launched into the air, unscathed, but the black dragon took the brunt of the dragon fire and Tristan could smell the instant aroma of burnt flesh. With a cry of rage, the black tried to leap into the air, but as Wyrddlin swept by to chase the red, the griffins fell upon the injured creature with all their might; talons tearing flesh. The sound of impact was sickening and he was sure those were bones he heard breaking.

  He forced himself to get moving.

  Running in the direction of Clint’s voice, he dodged the rear paw of a griffin and felt the earth tremble beneath his feet; his ears ringing from the dragon’s agonizing cries. He almost got knocked over by the black dragon’s tail and had to leap over it to keep from getting swept aside.

  When he broke free of the melee, he could see Clint racing back down the road, Kylee in hot pursuit.

  Tuskar burst past him and he pumped his legs as hard as he could, the armor slowing him despite its light weight. This was one moment that he wished he’d not have put it on. There was no way he was letting Clint get away.

  He felt a quick burst of wind and he looked up to see the silver dragon winging past him; the red armored orc flailing within his jaws. A terrifying roar answered Wyrddlin’s attack as the red dragon dove from the clouds and came at the dragon tearing into its rider. Green fire flashed across the sky and smote the red beast in the jaw, causing it to veer left and out of sight.

  He could hear the grinding sound of jaws clenching and sudden rain splashed upon his armor. He didn’t pause to see what it was, but did manage to jump aside as red armor impacted the road just to his left. Half the orc lay there, eyes staring at him, mouth working; as if his brain hadn’t caught up to the fact that he was dead.

  He tried to keep the two figures in sight, but they were slowly gaining ground, and he was starting to feel winded trying to keep up. It looked like Clint was running towards the outer wall. Where did he think he was going to go; all his reinforcements were to the rear? They disappeared from view and he felt the frustration welling up to mix with his adrenaline; he was starting to see red.

  A sudden scream erupted in the distance and he knew that Kylee was in trouble. Pounding his legs faster, he tried to close the distance to the outer wall, but his heart sunk in his chest when he saw the enormous red dragon lift into the sky with Clint astride the creature’s back. Wyrddlin was in pursuit, but the red appeared to be faster, as he threw back his wings and dove forward and out of sight.

  Clint had escaped with the sword.

  All of this had been for nothing; it was over.

  II

  Riska had beseeched his cousin to send an army north to Kamdeac and wipe out the horde infesting their former territory. As he expected, his cousin may be a King, but he was a timid dwarf who insisted on sending a message to Grendweir before taking action. The fact that it could take a week or longer for a response, time they may not have, didn’t seem to matter; despite the protest of the dwarf’s military advisors.

  He had personally seen what happened to the men under his command, and couldn’t seem to convince his stubborn cousin of the danger that vile goblin posed. He considered himself strong enough to face a lot of things, but it still had taken him quite some time before he’d recovered from the panic he’d felt while his men were murdered right before his eyes.

  How could he relate that terror? That need to gain control of it and kill this thing before more of their countrymen died at its hands?

  So, he’d done the only thing his conscience would allow him too; he’d met with the military advisors alone and convinced them to march north despite their King’s commands. They understood, as he did, that whatever this thing was it could not be allowed to reach Branham, or else they’d suffer Kamdeac’s fate as well.

  His cousin had to know what was going on, it was hard to miss thirty-five hundred dwarves marching out of the castle and turning north. But if he did, he didn’t interfere. Riska knew that if they succeeded, his cousin would boast that he’d sent him to organize the march and would claim all the glory that would come from victory. If they failed, well, he’d be dead so being branded a traitor didn’t really seem to matter as much at the moment.

  He wore his full armor, his axe held tightly at his side. He was determined to see this through to the end. Be it his, or the enemies; whichever came first. He looked at his fellow soldiers, their faces grim, the cold fire in their eyes reflecting his heart. They were eager to seek revenge and he was just as eager to give it to them.

  They were fast approaching the area where he’d witnessed the death of his men, and he felt his adrenaline start to pump with anticipation of enemy contact. He heard a whistle to his left and saw a hand signal indicating a visual had been established. Nodding, he motioned for the rest of the generals to slow their approach and have weapons made ready.

  He was not going to be ambushed again.

  Coming to the edge of the tree line, he called a halt and took a quick assessment of what they were facing.

  A larger force had moved in since his last visit and his eyes studied the fortress defenses and smiled when he saw that none of the damage done to the outer wall had been repaired since the previous assault. It was hard to judge accurately how many of the enemy filled the clearing in front of the fortress, much less how much resided within, but it wouldn’t matter; they weren’t going to turn back now.

  His eyes swept the tree line lining the clearing, searching for patrols, but he didn’t see any. That didn’t mean there weren’t any reinforcements just out of earshot. But without taking time to go look and risk getting noticed, he wouldn’t know for sure until the fighting began.

  Righ
t now, they had the element of surprise, and he was going to take it.

  Signaling the archers and axe throwers to the front of the line, he motioned for the march to begin. He waited for the ranged element of their forces to pass before him, then stepped out into the clearing and into the view of the enemy horde. He couldn’t help the sound of clanking armor, but the enemy hadn’t noticed it yet, and he didn’t mind that one bit.

  The cavalry commander motioned that he was going to swing around the back of the castle and come at the enemy from the rear, and Riska nodded in return.

  Dwarves did not use horses, they bred cougars for their mounts. It was rumored that the cougars had once been kept in something called a zoo and had escaped into the wild during the Fall. The dwarves had captured a few of the cubs and they’d been trained as riding mounts ever since. He watched as the giant felines padded their way north and motioned for the generals to quicken their pace, to draw attention from the cavalry with a battle cry from their men.

  Now they had the enemy’s attention, but it was too late as arrows and axes began raining down upon them. He raised his axe and hollered “Fur Kamdeac!” Then he pushed his way through the lines of archers and charged the bewildered scrambling horde.

  The rest of the dwarven army followed after.

  Hacking his way forward, he plunged heedlessly into the enemy lines. Goblins were stuck between whether they should flee or fight; and it was just enough hesitation for his forces to overrun them. Kicking another foe in the knee and driving it to the ground, he cleaved the creature’s head from its body, the image of these vermin roasting his kin driving him into an uncontrollable fury.

  A battle cry erupted from the north and he knew that the cavalry had begun cutting through the rear of the enemy army. Dwarves fanned out on all sides, making it impossible for the vermin to escape anywhere other than back into the castle. He didn’t mind that one bit; it’d be easier to corner the bastards and finish them off to the last rat.