Princess of Lanfor (Heroes of Ravenford Book 4)

by F. P. Spirit

  Martan was amazed. He hadn’t heard a thing, the blue-clad figure moved so stealthily. Martan barely caught a glimpse of him, the man keeping well to the trees only a short distance from where he lay. Whoever he was, he appeared to be stalking the dragon. Martan was incredulous. Who in his right mind would hunt such a ferocious beast?

  The figure shifted slightly, affording Martan a better view. The man wasn’t that tall, perhaps a shade shorter than Martan. From this angle, he could just see his face, long brown hair covering most of it, but the man appeared young, probably not much older than Lloyd.

  This young man was lean, but muscular, garbed in a blue knee-length sleeveless tunic, a studded belt around his waist, loose beige pants tucked inside brown boots, and a pair of brown gloves. A tarnished steel armguard sat on his right shoulder, his right arm wrapped with a matching steel wristband, and his left arm with a similar bracer. A matching set of dull steel greaves covered his legs all the way up to the knees. There was a large tattoo on his bare left shoulder in the shape of a dragon’s head.

  The warrior carried a wickedly sharp spear with a deadly-looking curved axe head near the top of the shaft. Martan had never seen that kind of weapon before, but he had heard of them—it was called a halberd.

  Martan was not typically trusting of strangers, or anyone for that matter, but the circumstances were dire. He extricated himself from the brush, careful not to make any sound, then snuck his way over to the man in blue. Martan silently approached the blue-clad warrior, from an angle where he was sure to be seen. The last thing he needed to do was startle the young man. That would spell certain death for the both of them. To his credit, the young warrior didn’t even flinch when he saw Martan, merely responding with a slight nod. Martan replied by signaling for the young man to follow him, then carefully led him away, back into the woods.

  Martan kept silent until they were a good half mile into the forest, then called for a halt, spinning to face the young man. The blue-clad warrior held that wicked-looking spear in one hand, his face a stony mask. Martan was taken aback for a moment—the warrior seemed awfully young for such a grim expression. He silently wondered what had befallen this youth that had made him so serious. When the young man spoke, there was a sharp edge to his voice. “What do you want?”

  The curt response caught Martan by surprise. He eyed the youth warily as he replied. “You wouldn’t by any chance be hunting that dragon?”

  The young man’s eyes narrowed as he glared at him intently. “What does it look like I was doing? Of course I was hunting the dragon.”

  Martan’s eyes went wide. So he is crazy.

  Before he could respond, the young man nodded his head back toward the clearing. “What happened back there?”

  Martan paused before answering, not sure he trusted this grim young man, but then decided there was no use in keeping it secret at this point. He described the dragon’s attack on his camp, the appearance of the greater dragon and its rider, and the black knight’s orders before taking off. The young man listened intently, not interrupting the entire time. When Martan finished, he finally spoke. “Never heard of anyone ordering a dragon around, especially not an adult green.”

  Martan shrugged in response. “I don’t know much about dragons, but I was as surprised as you.”

  The young warrior eyes narrowed. “Dragons don’t hang around for no reason. What’s inside that monolith that it wants?”

  Martan let out a short sigh. “My friends—they went in the day before, chasing after this group of evil magicians.”

  The young man frowned for the first time since Martan had met him. “Evil magicians? Are you sure they’re still alive?”

  Martan responded with a short nod. “They’re alive. They’re a pretty resourceful group.”

  The man in blue spun around and peered through the woods back toward the monolith. After a moment or two, he spoke to Martan without turning around. “Do you think they’d be any good in a dragon fight?”

  Martan’s eyes widened, all sorts of alarm bells going off in his head. This guy really is crazy… but then again it is probably going to come down to that anyway. The dragon certainly isn’t leaving anytime soon.

  “I can’t say for certain—though I have seen them make short work of a bunch of large serpents.”

  The young man, still turned away from him, was silent for a few moments. Finally, he spoke again. “How large?”

  Martan thought back briefly to the battle at Ravenford Keep. There were several large serpents there. Most of them were a good two heads taller than Lloyd, and the last one was two heads taller than that. Martan knew a bit about snakes—they could only rear up the first third of their body. Based on that, he estimated the serpents’ size.

  “Between twenty-five and thirty feet long.”

  The young man responded with a curt nod. “That’ll do.”

  He began to stride forward, motioning for Martan to follow. “Let’s go pay a visit to your friends.”

  Martan stared after the man in blue incredulously. “And just how are we going to do that with the dragon in the way?”

  “That won’t be a problem,” the young man said without stopping to look at him.

  Martan spiked an eyebrow. Yup, definitely crazy—and I must be nuts to follow him.

  Still, the others needed to be warned about the dragon before it was too late. If there was any chance of getting past it, Martan supposed they would need to try. The dour archer let out a deep sigh and took off after the man in blue. “Wait for me!”

  A short while later, Martan was positioned under a row of bushes at the north end of the clearing. The man in blue had told him to wind his way around there, and wait for his signal. Martan still thought him crazy, but the truth was, he really didn’t have any choice.

  The large green dragon had not moved, still apparently asleep, its great head facing the entrance to the monolith. A few minutes went by until the blue-clad warrior silently entered the clearing. Martan watched incredulously as the young man walked straight toward the dragon, stopping maybe thirty feet from it, in a wide stance with his left foot forward. Weapon held firmly in his right hand, he peered at the creature over his left shoulder and called out, “I know you’re not asleep.”

  His statement was met with a deep rumbling that reverberated throughout the clearing. Martan arched an eyebrow in disbelief. The dragon is laughing?

  The great head lifted and spun around on the long neck to face the blue-clad warrior. Unexpectedly, the dragon spoke in the common tongue, its voice a deep, rumbling baritone. “Heh, heh. And what do we have here? A little man playing hero?”

  The young warrior stared grimly at the dragon, appearing completely confident in its fearsome presence. “Oh, I’m no hero. I’m something far worse.”

  The dragon laughed again, the ominous sound sending shivers up Martan’s spine. “Hmmm… something worse? Should I be quaking in my boots?”

  The dragon suddenly reared up, and slowly spun its large body around, still crouching low to the ground. Its large head jutted out on the long neck, stopping maybe ten feet from the young warrior. “So then, little man, tell me… are you impressed with what you see?”

  The young man let out a deep sigh. “Typical dragon. Are you going to talk me to death, or are we going to fight already?”

  The dragon did not laugh this time. The serpent-like eyes fixed on the young warrior, the large creature baring a deadly row of dagger-like teeth. “Interesting. If you are really so eager to die, then who am I to stop you?”

  Without warning, the dragon’s head shot forward, its mouth opening wide as it sped toward the young warrior. Martan thought him a goner for sure, but at the last possible second, the blue warrior leaped high into the air, narrowly avoiding the dragon’s jaws. The dragon’s great maw snapped shut on thin air, causing the creature to mome
ntarily flinch.

  The young warrior landed a few yards back with a loud cry. “Now!”

  Martan immediately spurred into action, jumping from underneath the brush, and taking off at a dead run for the monolith. The dragon swiftly recovered, its serpent-like eyes fixing solely on the figure in blue. The creature’s voice rumbled across the clearing. “You’re pretty quick for a squishy little fleshling…”

  The dragon paused a moment. When it spoke again, its tone was extremely menacing. “…though I wonder if you can outrun my breath?”

  As the great creature finished speaking, its large maw opened wide and began to draw in air. Yet the blue warrior seemed unphased by the dragon’s threat. He answered the creature in a tone as cold as ice. “I don’t run from anything.”

  Without warning, the young man charged forward, his wicked-looking halberd pointing straight at the dragon’s head. His brazen move must have taken the beast by surprise—it suddenly stopped inhaling, its dark eyes fixed on the crazed figure rushing toward it.

  About ten paces from the dragon’s snout, the blue warrior suddenly leapt forward high into the air, straight over the head of the stunned creature. At the last moment, the great beast lifted its head and snapped at the young man, but it was too late. The warrior had already vaulted over its head, landing on the dragon’s neck.

  Martan had raced like mad to reach the monolith’s entrance, yet he halted there, staring in wonder at the sight of the young man racing at incredible speed down the dragon’s back. The great head swiveled around and followed the warrior, snapping violently at him. Yet whenever those jaws came too close, the man in blue would just leap out of the way. As soon as he reached the dragon’s tail, the young warrior took a huge leap off its back, straight for where Martan stood. His grim eyes fixed on the frozen tracker, a shout erupting from his lips. “Run, you fool!”

  The irate cry spurred Martan into motion. The dour tracker spun around on his heel and dashed into the monolith, the darkness within quickly enveloping him.

  When Alana, Lloyd, and Elladan reached the top of the monolith, it was already daylight outside. Alana led the way to the window facing east, and peered out over the edge. The lady knight let out a short gasp—down in the clearing, the camp was in shambles, pieces of tent lay shredded and scattered, the spike-pitched fence mostly flattened, the troops nowhere to be seen.

  Lloyd stood next to Alana, just as surprised as she to see the wreckage below. He placed a comforting arm around her shoulder and said, “I’m sorry, Alana.”

  Alana glanced up at him, tears brimming in her eyes. She quickly brushed the tears away, and set her jaw. “They were brave men and woman—willing to make the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good. Their names will not go unspoken, nor their lives unavenged.”

  Lloyd smiled grimly at the lady knight. “I would like a hand in that.”

  Elladan nudged Lloyd in the side. The young man shifted his gaze to the bard questioningly. Elladan pointed a finger straight down the side of the monolith. “Look down there, directly below us.”

  Lloyd followed the bard’s finger. A large green mound sat on the ground directly below them. It had been easy to miss, the way it blended in with the grass surrounding the monolith. Lloyd squinted his eyes—the mound slowly grew and shrank. It was a rhythmic motion, like… breathing. Lloyd looked all over the strangely moving mound. There were a couple of sections that, when traced out, looked just like wings. Lloyd shifted his gaze to Alana. “I think we’ve found the object of our vengeance.”

  Alana nodded, her expression stony. “I see it as well. By Cormar, I swear, before this day is over, my blade will taste dragon blood.”

  “As will mine,” Lloyd agreed.

  “Hold on there, you two,” Elladan interrupted them. Lloyd took a step back, so that both he and Alana could face the bard. Elladan’s gaze shifted from Alana to Lloyd and back again, his expression keenly sympathetic, yet his eyes filled with concern. “I realize the loss you just suffered, but I’m not sure, even with all of us combined, that we can stand against an adult green dragon.”

  Alana’s eyes narrowed as she stared intently at the bard, her reply strained at best. “I cannot let such a vile act go unpunished. It is against everything I stand for.”

  Elladan put his hands on his hips and returned her steely gaze, unflinching. “What good will that do if you’re dead?”

  The two of them stood there staring at each other, neither batting an eye. The tension in the air was so thick, it was almost palpable. Alana finally broke the silence. “If I die, then so be it. At least it will be for what I believe in.”

  Lloyd stood there the entire time with his arms folded across his chest. He implicitly understood both sides of the argument. Elladan was concerned for the lives of his friends, while Alana felt compelled to stand up for her beliefs. They were both right, and yet, his own beliefs were similar to Alana’s. His gaze shifted back and forth between the two, when his eye caught a hint of movement down in the clearing below. “Look down there, over by the treeline.”

  Alana and Elladan followed Lloyd’s gaze, just in time to see a man step out of the trees and approach the green dragon. The warrior wore a blue tunic and carried a long spear. Alana’s mouth fell open, her tone hushed. “Could that be the blue knight from Elistra’s dream?”

  They all watched incredulously as the man in blue strode up to the dragon, stopped, and called out to the creature. The dragon responded by lifting its head, spinning it around to face the man. A short exchange took place, the man purposely trying to antagonize the dragon. The dragon then got up and shifted its entire body to face the man.

  “He must have a death wish,” Elladan murmured quietly.

  There was another short exchange, then abruptly the dragon lunged at the warrior. The large creature was surprisingly fast, but the man was faster. At the last second, he leaped out the way, the dragon cleanly missing him. The warrior landed a short distance away and cried out, “Now!” Yet instead of turning and running, he stood his ground. The dragon momentarily flinched, but then quickly recovered.

  “He’s going to get himself killed,” Elladan cried, his voice rising an octave.

  Lloyd glanced at Alana, their eyes meeting for a brief moment, then the young warrior spun around and rushed toward the stairs. Alana was right behind him.

  “Not if we can help it!” Lloyd cried over his shoulder.

  “Wait!” Elladan shouted after them. “Wait for me!”

  Martan had run into the monolith, only to find himself in pitch blackness. Unsure what was in front of him, the tracker pulled out his bow and used it to feel out the ground ahead. He had only made it a short distance when a voice shouted from behind him, “That’s too slow!”

  As if responding to the loud voice, the room around them suddenly flared to life. Strange glowing tiles were embedded in the floor and ceiling every so many feet, illuminating the entire area. They stood in a vast chamber, easily the largest Martan had ever seen. The huge room was basically empty, except for some large, ornate tapestries that hung on the wall, and a thick central pillar that rose from floor all the way to the ceiling. A spiral staircase wound around the outside of the column, disappearing into the ceiling far above. Martan felt a hand on his arm, the blue-clad warrior running past and dragging him with him. “No time to gawk. Make for that pillar.”

  Martan took off behind the young warrior, but a loud roar made him cast a glance over his shoulder. “Get back here, you puny little humans!”

  The dragon had stuck its head through the archway, its jaws opening wide as it chased after them. The blue warrior abruptly halted, pulling a small rod from the pack on his back. The rod swiftly expanded into a full-sized spear. The man in blue launched the spear at the dragon’s open maw, with the cry, “You’re making this way too easy!”

  Martan watched in awe as the
flying spear turned into a lightning bolt in mid-air. The dragon realized its peril far too late. Before it could close its mouth, the bolt shot forward directly into the dragon’s maw. Electrical arcs flew out of the dragon’s mouth, dancing all around its snout and eyes. The large beast shuddered in pain, its entire head sizzling from the barrage.

  The man in blue spun around and slapped Martan on the arm. “That won’t last long. To the pillar, quick!”

  Martan took off after the young man, the two of them racing toward the central column. They had just made it to the base when the dragon roared yet again. “I’ll get you for that!”

  “Quick,” the man in blue urged, “up the stairs and around the back.”

  Martan raced up the staircase just behind the young man, the spiral leading them around and behind the large pillar. The blue warrior halted there and held up a hand, Martan coming to a halt beside him. It was not a moment too soon.

  They had no sooner stopped than a barrage of thick green liquid went flying past them on either side of the pillar. Martan flattened himself against the wall—he had seen what the dragon’s breath could do, and wanted no part of it. The liquid barrage lasted for almost a minute, the acrid smell causing Martan’s eyes to tear. Finally, it subsided, the dragon having exhausted its deadly breath.

  The warrior in blue nudged Martan in the arm. “It won’t be able to do that again for a bit. So which way do we go, up or down?”

  As if in answer to his question, a familiar voice drifted down from above. “Quick, this way! We’re up here!”

  Martan immediately recognized that voice as belonging to Elladan. The stairs above them were in the way, but there was no doubt in his mind that it had been the bard. Martan grinned for the first time in a long while. “You heard the man, up it is!”