Going Rogue (Spells, Swords, & Stealth Book 3)

by Drew Hayes

  Eric didn’t have a good argument for that, so instead, he just kept on moving forward. Although he still scanned occasionally for Elora, he quickly allowed her to fall from his mind. He would see her only if she wanted to be seen, and in the meantime, he had much bigger issues to concern himself with.

  Dragon-sized issues, specifically.

  Chapter 50

  Despite the fact that she’d been unhappy about it, Gabrielle had to admit that Eric was right about keeping to the back. Aside from it being good strategy, which it was, the idea proved its worth before they’d even made it all the way up the slope. Thanks to their decreased elevation, the massive blast of flames roared over their heads, scorching the stone above them as well as lighting more than a few fellow adventurers on fire.

  Her eyes went wide at the sight. Bulek’s attacks, while fierce, were little more than a torch’s flame compared to what they’d just seen. The size of the blast and the heat radiating off of it were in a whole other category. Bravado be damned, she was glad they weren’t actually trying to fight the creature that could conjure such attacks.

  The fire died away and they raced upward, determined not to be caught in the next blast. They crested the top of the slope, and Rathgan came into view.

  If she’d thought the flames were shocking, they were nothing compared to the dragon that had breathed them. Rathgan was enormous, taller than any building she’d seen outside of a castle, and covered from head to toe in shiny red scales. These weren’t like the demon hide that made up her armor, which were a deep red like freshly-spilled blood. No, Rathgan’s color was like the fire he so freely shot out. The scales shimmered in the light of the setting sun, which filtered through a large hole above them that was doubtlessly utilized by Rathgan to fly in and out at his leisure. If only they’d been able to take to the air, they could have passed the entire mountain by and descended directly into the enormous cavern, which was probably why the surrounding areas were so heavily warded against magical flight.

  The creature turned toward and then past them, taking in the slew of adventurers that were still pouring into his enormous lair. Thick horns jutted along the top of his head, extra armor for his faded yellow eyes. He flapped his mighty wings once, and the whole cavern swelled with a breeze powerful enough to make everyone tighten their grips on their weapons. His tail was poised overhead, held aloft like a cat’s, only Gabrielle wasn’t under any illusion that he was using it for balance. The tail, like every other part of his body, was a weapon prepared to strike. All that held it still was Rathgan’s search for the right place to attack.

  “Fools. You are nothing but pawns, sent here to keep me from pursuing the truth. I have no time to play such games.”

  Rathgan’s voice boomed through the cave, causing almost everyone to wince. His threat wasn’t idle, either. No sooner had he finished his sonorous declaration than Gabrielle heard something massive strike the ground. His tail had come down. He dragged it along the floor and sent a half dozen adventurers flying. At the same time, those wings beat again, this time more than once, and the chamber became filled with buffeting winds. He lowered his massive snout and closed in on a cluster of warriors near the front. Some dodged out of the way in time, but others vanished between his teeth, probably never to be seen again. All around them were screams—some of strategy, more of panic. Gabrielle had thought the numbers would give them an advantage. Staring up at the enormity of their task, she couldn’t imagine that any number of adventurers would be able to handle such a challenge.

  It was pain that brought her focus back to her immediate surroundings, as her axe’s burning had suddenly grown fiercer. Her weapon didn’t care for such weak thoughts; it responded best when she was stalwart and determined to win. And they could win, damn it. Yes, Rathgan was huge and powerful, but older dragons than he had been brought down. Adventurers were not to be underestimated. She’d seen them stop giant demons; why should a dragon be all that different?

  Letting out a deep breath, Gabrielle focused on the task at hand. They didn’t need to fight and win; they could claim victory another way. This was Rathgan’s home—that much was clear—so his hoard had to be here somewhere. The trouble was, there was no mountain of gold in sight, nor were there any other exits that Rathgan could fit through. It was just the slope down and the hole in the ceiling.

  For a moment, panic grabbed at her heart. What if Rathgan had moved his treasure somewhere else in preparation for the battle? That way, even if he fell, he could keep the hoard from the hands of his killers. But that plan was risky, too, as it would leave his treasure vulnerable, and Bulek had made it seem like Rathgan would want the Bridge close at hand. Besides, nothing about the elder dragon’s attitude gave Gabrielle the impression he was worried about losing.

  A blow to her shoulder nearly made Gabrielle whip around and strike, until she realized it was Eric trying to get her attention over the screaming wind. He was pointing across the cavern, past Rathgan’s hind claws, to a small patch of discoloration in the wall. Although she couldn’t make out what it was, she trusted Eric’s keen eyes over her own. Maybe it was a panel of some sort or an enchanted doorway that grew to its user’s size. Either way, it was a lead.

  It would have been nice if said lead was a little closer and didn’t require racing past the claws and tail of a dragon to get there, but at this point, she supposed they had to take what they could get. There was nothing more to say, not that they’d have been able to manage much over the roaring winds and flapping wings, even huddled together as they were.

  Timuscor raised his shield and took the lead, with Grumph and Thistle to the sides, pinning her and Eric in as best they could, given their gnome-paladin’s stature. The rear was left open in case they had to dart back; no one wanted them to get trapped by their own defenses. With the formation set, they started forward quickly and carefully.

  Their approach was wide to avoid the strikes coming at the adventurers who were slashing at Rathgan’s hindquarters. Few eyes looked their way; most were far too focused on the task at hand. From her vantage point, Gabrielle noticed that as Rathgan’s neck rose, his snout came peeking into view over his shoulders. He was lifting his head, probably to send out another blast of fire. Gabrielle felt a sliver of relief that they were on the other side for this round; however, that died away as Grumph stiffened next to her.

  The half-orc was staring over at the dragon’s snout. The beast seemed to be speaking rather than breathing deeply, now that Gabrielle paid more attention. She knew then, even before Grumph managed to project his deep boom of a voice over the sound of the wind. It was one of the most powerful aspects to dragons, and somehow, she’d let it slip her mind. But as she watched, noting the sudden change in the color of the sky overhead, there could be no other explanation.

  Dragons were magic-users too, after all.

  “Casting!” Grumph managed to scream the warning to his friends and perhaps a few nearby adventurers whom luck and the wind favored. He’d barely gotten the word out before the first bolt came crashing down, striking a knight wielding a massive lance. The adventurer glowed brightly in the crackling shine of the lightning, and when it cleared, he was on the ground, smoke rising from his charred flesh.

  Gabrielle chanced a single look at the sky, taking in the sunset that was all but completely obscured by the billowing black clouds that had formed from nowhere. Rathgan had summoned a lightning storm upon them, and suddenly, the screams of the wind were nothing compared to the claps of thunder that came booming out moments after more bolts struck.

  They were running before a word was even said. Strategy was well and good in its place, but now speed was their dearest ally. They had to find the treasury or, barring that, some place to take cover. Because even as lightning rained down, Rathgan continued his assault. If they didn’t get to safety soon, they’d end up being nothing more than afterthought smeared across his giant claws.

  * * *

  “How quaint.” Agrut made a few m
otions with his hands, and a small blue shield flickered into existence around him. “It’s an impressive-looking spell, but nothing a ward against lightning can’t handle. One has to direct the attacks to get any real power from them; this is just chaos.”

  It didn’t escape Elora’s notice that Agrut didn’t offer to cast one of those wards on her, but then again, he didn’t cast on Everett either, so at least he wasn’t playing favorites. He was just a dick. That said, Agrut did have a point. One of Rathgan’s actual attacks would be dangerous; the lightning was simply firing off haphazardly, making the battlefield a little more hectic. She could easily dodge a stray bolt; it just required keeping an eye on the clouds. Rathgan was a smart dragon—not that she was surprised, given his age. He was keeping the adventurers off-balance, preventing them from getting a chance to regroup or coordinate their efforts. Neutralizing their advantage of numbers was key to his survival, and Rathgan clearly knew it.

  Everett and Agrut had both insisted on keeping to the rear, a strategy that had suited Elora just fine. They were doing it to let the initial battlefield chaos wash away and get their bearings on the best method of attack; meanwhile, she just really didn’t want to die. Plus, it had allowed her to tail Eric and the others, even as he tried to spot her. The kid was good, but he still had a ways to go, and she wanted to remind him of that every chance she got. It had been heartening to see Eric and his friends take the wise path of not rushing in; she didn’t particularly like the idea of any of them being roasted alive.

  What was strange, however, was what they’d done after entering the cavern. None of them, not even Gabrielle, had tried to attack Rathgan. Instead, they’d huddled together and tried to slip around to the other side of the cavern. That had grabbed Elora’s attention almost as firmly as the giant dragon attempting to kill everyone. That group, for all its faults, was not composed of cowards. What’s more, they had a paladin with them, one who was actively ignoring people in need. The only way that could fly was if Thistle had another way to stop Rathgan, had a larger threat to deal with, or had lost Grumble’s protection as a paladin. Since it was unlikely that the final option had come to pass in the few days she hadn’t seen them, the first two options were promoted to the most plausible candidates. And that meant that whatever they were doing, it was probably interesting. More interesting than hanging around the annoying dipshit duo she’d saddled herself with, anyway.

  “We got a plan here, fellows? Or are we just going to sit around and watch him pick off the fodder?” Elora asked.

  “The plan is simple,” Everett said. “Once we have a good sense of Rathgan’s abilities and style of battle, we charge in and crush him. It’s the same tactic all the smarter fighters are using.”

  He wasn’t wrong; there were several other groups hanging to the fringes, easily repelling whatever stray attacks came their way as they prepared their strategies. What was happening now was the first swing of a sword, nothing more. Soon, the second phase of the battle would begin, and Rathgan would be pushed on the defensive. It should have been fascinating enough to still Elora’s restless blood, yet she couldn’t quit looking over to Eric and his friends, who were making a mad dash toward something. She squinted carefully and noticed that there was a patch of wall slightly off-color from the rest around it. As soon as her eyes fell on that, the choice was made.

  “Seeing as literally every other lair we’ve found had some traps, any objection to me taking a run around the place while we wait? Make sure Rathgan doesn’t have anything ready to spring?”

  “Good idea,” Agrut said. “You won’t earn your keep in battle, so better to do it now. Try not to die, if possible. At least not until you’ve finished making sure the area is secure.”

  “You’re all heart, you know that?” Elora didn’t bother hanging around any longer. She was already behind the others, and the last thing she wanted was for them to give her the slip. Interesting as the dragon battle was, her gut said that whatever they were chasing would be far more fun.

  Dangerous and deadly, as well—that went without saying. Then again, those were necessary components for a rogue’s idea of fun anyway.

  * * *

  It was hard for anything to stand out amidst the chaos of blasting winds, an attacking dragon, and bolts of lightning raining down from the sky. Yet a half-orc holding a wizard’s staff was enough to catch Chalara’s eye as the brute dashed past. What sensible mage stuck a blade in the top of their staff, anyway? Had he looted it from a body, thinking it was a club? His armor seemed more mage appropriate than what a half-orc should have worn into a fight with a dragon, but perhaps budget had left him hamstrung.

  It was only because Chalara focused on the half-orc that her eyes caught the rest of his party. Some were more proper, like the dark-haired man in the leather armor who was clearly a rogue, but others were just as strange as their mage: a lean, blonde woman in blood-red armor with a giant axe, a gnome dressed in plate armor somehow keeping pace with the others, and a boar. Strike that—an armored boar whose protection matched that of a blond man holding a shield and sword carefully in hand. There were a lot of adventurers at this fight, yet this group was peculiar enough to draw her attention.

  Had they kept running, it would have been a momentary blip in the battle, some fleeting distraction amidst the utter insanity unfolding around her. But they didn’t keep going, nor did they turn and help with the assault on the dragon. Instead, they came to a halt at the wall of the cavern nearby. That was unexpected enough, but what added to the surprise Chalara’s realization that the area they’d approached was a slightly different color than the rest of the wall. How had she missed that? Well, because there was a giant fucking dragon trying to kill them all and she hadn’t paid much attention to the sides of the cavern, that was how. They, evidently, had been focusing on something very different.

  As the group gathered before the odd spot in the wall, Chalara motioned to her friends to move in closer. Whatever was happening, she wanted to see it and, perhaps, determine if whatever the strange group had up their sleeve would bring her people some benefit. Maybe the dragon kept powerful weapons hidden nearby—that wouldn’t be out of place for this sort of battle. Or maybe the dragon was a distraction, hiding a skillful mage out of sight.

  Whatever the truth was, she would make sure to bear witness. They weren’t going to get caught off guard again. She already had a miniaturized chest squirreled away in a pouch on her belt as a reminder of what happened the last time they didn’t pay attention to their surroundings.

  This time, things were going to be different.

  Chapter 51

  They all came sliding to a stop, Timuscor lifting his shield overhead to try and give some cover from the lightning. This provided shelter from the relentless screaming of the wind as well, which was a welcome respite for their tired eardrums. Up close, the section of false wall was unmistakable, too clean and new to match the worn rock all around it. Eric let out a curse under his breath that few ears could perceive as he stared at the doorway.

  “This is something,” Eric said, pressing his hand to the door and finding it unyielding. “But I can’t be the only one wondering how it’s supposed to help. There’s no way Rathgan could fit through a door this size. A hatchling would probably get stuck trying to crack through.”

  “Actually, I suspect that’s the very reason it’s so small.” Thistle had been pondering what sort of safeguards Rathgan would employ against a nest of dragons. It hadn’t occurred to him that the elder dragon would do something as simple as using the younger dragons’ lack of manifested abilities against them. “Dragons gain the magic of shape-changing as they grow older. Many have passed as humans or elves before to gather information on their enemies. It is a gift that comes with time, though, unlike breathing fire. I’d wager Rathgan made this passage so small because he’s probably the only dragon here who can reduce his size, thus barring any of the others from trying to get in.”

  “Okay, so maybe the re
ason he waited to open the door is that he was putting this barrier in place.” Eric was running his hands along the seam where false wall and true rock were joined. There was no give, regardless of how much he pressed, yet he wasn’t deterred. “He never needed to hide this from the others, but we’d all be able to enter, since we’re small. That would explain why it looks rushed. Plus, it means this thing is almost certainly made of magic.”

  Gabrielle didn’t need any more invitation than that; she twirled her axe once while Eric rapidly backed away. Carefully, she pressed the weapon against the false wall, wincing visibly as it made contact. “Oh yeah, this is all magic. Strong magic, too. Thistle, be ready with the healing. Something tells me this one isn’t going to be cheap.”

  She reared back: there would be nothing gentle about the next time her axe and the barrier met. By the time the weapon was readied, her blonde hair had turned ink-black, and the whites of her eyes seemed murky. Thistle felt something twinge inside of him in that moment. It wasn’t evil—he’d gotten an unfortunately unforgettable taste of that fighting Kalzidar’s priest, and he would never mistake anything else for it. But it was dark—pitch black, really—and old. Older than the armor wrapped around Thistle’s body. Perhaps even older than the god he served.

  Then she swung and the feeling was gone, as lost as a dream by mid-morning. Gabrielle’s axe struck the barrier and held there for a moment, as if the magic were pushing it away. She grit her teeth and muttered something inaudible, and then the axe was moving again, ripping a large hole through the false wall. To anyone watching, it no doubt seemed as though Gabrielle had just chopped right through solid stone. Thistle found it somewhat humorous that, impressive as the feat seemed, it paled in comparison to what she’d actually accomplished.