Battle of the Dragon (The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 3) (Tail of the Dragon)

by Craig Halloran

  I must look like a child to them.

  “We are weary travelers, just passing through. We don’t want any trouble.”

  The cyclops with its face adorned with small chains and a bone through its nose said, “Your travels are at an end.”

  “I plead for mercy. We are of no consequence. Just migrating from one safe hovel to another.” He held out the purse. “I can pay for safe passage.”

  The orc leaned forward in his saddle. “I smell a dwarf. I hate dwarves.”

  “I can’t say I blame you,” Nath agreed. “They are irritating people, but he is our guide in these treacherous times.”

  “Send him out, and we shall relieve you of him and your gold. Then, I shall consider whether or not I let you live.”

  Under his cloak, Nath sneered. He hated the orcs as much as Brenwar did.

  Stupid. Arrogant. Smelly and difficult. There was nothing noble about a single one of them. Despite the one eye, these weren’t different than the average orc in demeanor, just bigger and more amplified. They were eight feet tall, solid in build, and hardened by raids and battle. Their strange beasts were something different altogether—flat headed, hard skulled, and deadly. A single one of them could trample an entire halfling village.

  Nath shook his head no. “Take the gold. I offer you no more and no less.”

  The orc’s canine teeth jutted up from its bottom jaw in a cruel smile. “I’m going to enjoy this.” It barked an order to the other orcs. “File in. We’re gonna run these trespassers through!”

  CHAPTER 12

  “Aw, fine then!” Brenwar emerged from the shack. “You want to fight me? I’ll fight every last one of you spangbockers!”

  The orcen cyclopes turned and rode away a little ways on pounding hooves. One hundred paces away, they turned and paused. The wind pushed down the high grasses, and their black-and-silver streaked flag waved like a banner of death.

  Brenwar set his feet.

  Nath took his hood down and drew his elven sword. “Guard the shack.”

  “To the death,” Brenwar replied.

  Nath had been in plenty of scrapes with orcs before, but this was different. He didn’t have Fang, nor most of his powers. The orcs had been more manageable back then. Nath had been quicker, smarter, and able to outwit them most of the time. But this battle? It was going to be brute force against brute force. He didn’t have any more dragon fire or extra scales to save him. And to top it off, these giant one-eyed versions were an abomination.

  Raising his lance high, the orcen cyclops leader bellowed a command. The entire row of riders lowered their spears and lances. All at once, they charged.

  The ground quaked. The boards of the shack rattled. Nath braced himself for the oncoming wave of terror. Fifty horse lengths. Forty horse lengths. Thirty lengths. Twenty.

  “Nobody tramples a dwarf!” Brenwar yelled.

  Pepper squeezed between Nath and Brenwar on the back of the thunder beard.

  “I told you to run, Pepper. Run! Get out of here!” Nath said.

  “It’s not me, it’s him,” Pepper said.

  The thunder beard eased in front of all of them, coiled back his head, and opened his jaws wide. He let out a ground-shaking roar that filled the valley.

  “RRRRRRRAAWWRRRRRRRRR!”

  The demonic horses reared up. Some halted dead in their tracks. Others skidded. The giant one-eyed orc riders were tossed and toppled. Several of the strange horses bolted, dragging their riders by the stirrups. The terrifying squad of blood-mad soldiers had been turned to chaos.

  Sword high, Nath charged and cried out, “Dragon! Dragon!”

  “For Morgdon!”

  It’s me against them! There’s no other way!

  He had to strike, and strike fast. Nath swatted a jabbing spear aside and ran a giant orc through. Other cyclopes were scrambling for their gear. Using what quickness he still had in him, Nath attacked. He caught one orc in the backside and sent it howling. Another he stuck in the chest.

  Wham!

  Something heavy clobbered Nath in the back. Shooting stars blinded his sight. A boot stomping in the ground caught his ear. The sound of a heavy weapon descending on him urged his desperate movement. He rolled to the left, evading the huge hammer that bit into the ground. He hopped to his feet and swung. Metal bit into metal, and a monstrous voice wailed. A giant orc fell. Regaining his sight, Nath waded into an angry knot of fighters that had surrounded Brenwar.

  The husky dwarf was bleeding and yelling, “Come, you smelly two-legged trees!”

  Nath propelled himself into the back of one giant orc and stabbed the arm of another. The orcs fought back with fury. Obstinate and angry, they were born fighters. Even if they were overly matched, they’d fight to the end, most of the time. That wasn’t the case this day. Big and strong, they had numbers. The clash of steel on steel and flesh and bone shifted back and forth.

  Back to back, Nath and Brenwar kept the horde at bay.

  Clang! Bash! Glitch! Slice!

  Nath and Brenwar were holding up just fine, out-quickening the lesser-skilled orcen fighters. Together, they had just brought one down with a pair of heavy chops when a pair of riders burst through their own ranks and plowed right over the both of them.

  Flat on his back, Nath fought to rise again. One of the demon beasts pinned him down with its hooves. The orcen cyclops leader lorded over him with a crude sword in one hand and Selene’s limp form hanging by the hair in the other.

  The cyclops orc rumbled a wicked laugh. “Scales, scales, scales. Tsk, tsk, I know someone who will give a kingdom for the people that walk with scales. The question is, are you worth more dead, or alive?” He kicked Nath’s elven sword away, pulled down his hood, and rolled up his sleeve. “My, my, it’s the one and only Nath Dragon. Har! The titans will be pleased!” He slugged Nath in the jaw. “Very pleased.”

  Wrathhorn

  CHAPTER 13

  Nath and Brenwar were bound up with chains and marched toward the orcen city of Thraag. Selene was still in her deep sleep, slung over one of the demon horses’ saddle. Pepper and the thunder beard were gone. Long gone, Nath hoped.

  At least he was finally smart enough to listen.

  “Orc,” Nath said to the leader, “what do you call your beasts? And yourself. I like to have some familiarity with my captors. The rapport can be soothing on both sides.”

  Jaw jutted out, the orc glanced back at Nath. “I am Gaak. One of the nuurg. The steeds are wrathhorns. We orcs now breed them.”

  Brenwar stared up into the cyclops orc’s one eye. “Breed with them, is more like it.”

  “Go ahead and delight, dwarf. We’ll see how much you have to say after we shave your beard and make you eat it.”

  “What’s a nuurg?” Nath asked.

  “We are the nuurg. The new giants. The usurpers of lands. Servants of the great titans.” The huge one-eyed orc spat. “Conquerors we are. Invincible.”

  “No one is invincible. You’ve certainly heard of Gorn Grattack and the Clerics of Barnabus?” Nath inquired. “He was quite mighty, I assure you.”

  The orc growled in his throat. “Not mighty enough to win. The titans will never lose. They will defeat Balzurth. We will inherit all the treasure in the Mountain of Doom. You’ll see soon enough.”

  “I’ll never understand why orcs are so overconfident,” Brenwar whispered to Nath. “They’ve never won a major battle in all my centuries.”

  It was true. The orcs, though many, fought among themselves as much as with the various races. They had never been fully united. But Nath knew that strong leadership could change all that. It had just been a long, long time since they had any. Under the guidance of the titans, the orcs could be galvanized and turned into a great weapon of destruction.

  It started to rain. The dirt road became sloppy, and before long they were trudging through the mud into a land where the trees had more bark than leaves. The orcen land that surrounded Thraag was mostly briars and stone. The brush was
thick, and hungry vermin cawed and hissed as they passed by. Nath wasn’t so much worried about himself as he was his friend. Brenwar would be killed. He was certain of it. And it wouldn’t be quick. The orcs would torment and humiliate him. I can’t think of a much worse scenario than this. I have to find a way to save Brenwar and Selene.

  Tethered to the wrathhorns, their march was hard. Yanked by one of the beasts, Brenwar stumbled and was dragged. With a face filled with mud, he climbed up on his feet again and jerked back. It was futile to fight against the pull of the powerful beasts. They were thrice as strong and just as ugly as the orcs that rode on their backs.

  Nath had a natural affection for all living creatures, but the wrathhorns were something else entirely. An evil breed. Bone-crushing war rides. There were bloodstains on their tremendous spiked hooves. He made a count. There were just eight riders left, but it wasn’t likely he could take them all while tethered like this. Not and protect his friends too. The only option was to find a narrow break in the terrain where the huge mounts and orcs couldn’t go—and hide. The problem was Selene.

  How am I going to get her?

  Selene’s body was draped over the front of the leader’s saddle.

  Don’t lose hope, Nath. Just think of something.

  Doubt crept into his mind, and the pounding rain seemed to weaken his limbs. He didn’t have the power he’d had before. In the form of a dragon, he could level mountains, cities. Now, he felt like an insect. He still hadn’t adjusted to it. He thought he had, but had not. When he was young, there had been giants running around everywhere, but life had been more manageable. Now, it had all changed. He was the little fish in the big pond. He ground his teeth.

  This stinks.

  The nuurg leader raised his hand up and came to a stop. “Ho.” He eyed the sky and all around.

  “Problem?” Nath said, walking up alongside the giant orc leader’s saddle.

  Rain running down his furrowed brow, the nuurg leader said, “Something stinks.”

  “Yes,” Nath said, looking at him and his dirt-marred skin, “I’d think you’d be used to that by now. These rains present an excellent opportunity to wash yourself.”

  The orc cyclops leered at him. “Quiet.” He pointed at two of his followers. “Ride up. I sense an ambush near.”

  The riders on the wrathhorns thundered by Nath, splashing him with mud and bumping him down to one knee.

  It was Nath’s turn to look around. With all the heavy rain it was difficult to see anything, but nothing seemed out of the ordinary. It was strange. Why would the orc cyclopes be worried about an ambush on their own land?

  It doesn’t make any sense. Perhaps even these monsters are divided against one another. Interesting.

  Minutes passed.

  “So are we going to stand here all day?” Brenwar said.

  “You’re safer here than where we’re going,” Nath said, wiping the rain from his eyes. “And it’s not like you to be in a hurry.”

  “Hanging around you makes me rush things.” Brenwar looked at the huge cyclopes on the backs of the beasts and shook his head. “It’s not right.”

  A few minutes later, one of the riders reappeared and said to the leader, “It’s clear. Holorf still scouts ahead. He’ll await us at the next fortress. Send up fire if there is trouble.”

  The leader, Gaak, nodded. “Let’s go, then. We have great treasure. Ale and females shall meet us at the gates!” He snapped his reins. The beast lurched forward. Gaak slung forth his hand. “Howhaho!”

  “Well,” Nath said to Brenwar, “at least you’re going to get a closer look at a city you’ve never seen before. They say it’s not half bad once you get used to the smell.”

  Brenwar shook his head no.

  Out of nowhere, an arrow rocketed through the rain and impaled Gaak’s sleeve.

  He roared and cried out, “Ambush! Ride hard for the city!”

  Nath ran apace.

  Brenwar was jerked off his feet and dragged by the wrathhorns. With a mouthful of mud, he yelled, “No one drags a dwarf!”

  Arrows whistled through the air.

  Zing! Zing! Zing! Zing!

  A cyclops toppled from his mount with an arrow in his side. An arrow struck another rider in the skull, but that nuurg fighter kept riding.

  Still tethered, Nath kept running.

  It was a crossfire. Beasts and riders went down. Three arrows feathered an orc in the chest. Another arrow struck a beast in the hide of its hindquarters, rearing it up and toppling its rider.

  Nath hopped on the chest of a cyclops that was being dragged by one of its feet, which was caught in the stirrup. He found his elven sword harnessed to the beast’s saddle, drew it out, and cut his bonds, yelling, “Brenwar! Brenwar!”

  Being dragged behind a wrathhorn, the dwarf managed to sit up. “What?”

  Nath flung the sword end over end. It sliced through the taut rope that secured Brenwar.

  The dwarf diminished in the distance but was up and running after him.

  Nath hauled himself up into the beast’s saddle and took the reins. With the beast still dragging the dead cyclops, he dug his heel into the mount’s ribs. “Yah! Yah!”

  The wrathhorn reared up, clawed the air with its hooves, landed back on its front hooves, and stopped. Its head swung around and bit into Nath’s arm.

  “Sultans of Sulfur!” Nath cried out. Ahead, Gaak and the surviving riders were getting away in long, fast strides. “Release me, beast! I have to get Selene.”

  A heavy fog rolled in. Selene and the riders were gone.

  CHAPTER 14

  The wrathhorn bucked, turned its head, and slung Nath out of the saddle by the arm with its teeth. Wrist deep in the mud, Nath got up. The beast lowered its head with the curved horns out and charged. Spiked hooves splatted through the mud and water and bore down on Nath.

  At the last moment, Nath jumped high, sailing over its head.

  The wrathhorn kept going, making a startling whine and not looking back.

  Puffing for breath, Brenwar caught up with Nath. “There goes your ride.”

  Nath scoffed. “They still have Selene. You stay here. I’m going after them on foot.” He started to run. A huge winged creature dropped out of the sky and onto the road, cutting off his path. “Sansla Libor!” Nath said.

  Half a dozen roamer elves emerged from the rough woodland and encircled them. They were tall and hardy, long haired, with swords strapped beneath their round bellies. The tallest of them all was Shum, and his brother Hoven was there too. Their piercing eyes bore into Nath and Brenwar. “Hail and well met, old friend.”

  “Hail nothing, Shum,” Nath said. “I don’t have time for chatter. The nuurg have Selene! I must rescue her.”

  Shum and Hoven blocked his path. Hoven spoke. “You must come with us immediately.”

  Nath busted right between them.

  Head to toe in mud, Brenwar was right on his heels. “Out of the way, elven bellies!”

  Nath found himself face to face with the great white winged ape, Sansla Libor the King of the Roamers. The cursed elf was as big as ever, layered with bulging muscles under his fur. His chest was broader than those of three strong men. His eyes were sky blue, but with a savageness behind them. He held out his oversized hands, and towering over Nath, he said, “Stop, Nath Dragon.”

  Not hiding the urgency brewing within him, Nath said, “I’ll do no such thing. Now get out of my way.”

  “Aye!” Brenwar agreed.

  “I cannot. You must come now.”

  “No, I must go now.” Nath got a run and jumped over the great ape.

  Sansla, quick as a big cat, sprang into the air and dragged Nath down by the ankles.

  Floundering in the mud, Nath kicked the gorilla-like beast in the chest. Sansla slammed him to the ground. Nath flipped Sansla off his back, drew back his scaled fist, and hit Sansla square in the face.

  A savage snarl erupted from Sansla’s black lips. He attacked Nath with savage f
ury. Fists the size of hams hammered into his body with bone-jarring ferocity.

  Nath’s temper ignited. He’d been holding back—against the rogue elves, the nuurg, and the wrathhorns. Selene was being taken. He’d hold back no more. He cocked back his fist and hit Sansla as hard as he could.

  “Oof!” The mighty ape doubled over, clutching his belly.

  Nath whaled on him, blow after blow after blow. “Stay out of my way!”

  Sansla balled up and covered his face with his fists. He got peppered with lightning-quick jabs. Harder and faster they came.

  Wham! Wham! Pap! Pap! Pap!

  With fire in his eyes, chest heaving, Nath backed off. “Leave me be!”

  Standing in the pouring rain, nose bleeding, Sansla rose to full height and spread his wings out and back in, and with seriousness he said, “I cannot.” His head ticked left. He tensed up, visibly fighting the growing rage within. “You must listen.”

  Nath wanted to fight. To finish it. He could not tell if Sansla was being truthful or just a thorn in his side. He pointed at the winged ape. “You’d be wise to leave me be.” He turned and ran. The elves closed in and piled on him.

  “You must listen to us,” Shum said, grappling Nath by the arms. “It is urgent!”

  Covered in elves as big as he, Nath slung them off one at a time.

  They kept coming.

  Brenwar dove into the fray. “Foolish elves! I’ll snap your bones like twigs.”

  In a brutal moment, Nath and Brenwar were swinging hard in a tangled knot of bodies. The elves, skilled and quick, wrapped up Nath, time after time. He slung them off again. Brenwar busted faces and bruised bones with powerful punches. The roamers would not give. Limping and bleeding, they pulled both fighters down into the slippery mud, time and time again. Nath’s restless energy fueled his might. Quicker and faster, he wore them down. Brenwar, a battle-tested iron tree stump, fought with the fury of a dozen storms. A loyal hound, fighting to the death.