Order Of The Dragon (Omnibus 1-4)

by Jason Halstead

  His hammer struck the barbarian's axe by accident and drove it in deeper. The dragon let loose a howl and another blast of flames, though this one cooked the few remaining feet of passage ahead of him. The beast's right leg collapsed, forcing the creature to drag its hindquarters ahead of it. Garrick’s axe fell free, dislodged by the impact.

  Garrick emerged from the rubble as Alto staggered past him. The warrior clenched his teeth to fight past the stabbing pain in his ribs. Garrick grunted and caught up to him, and then pushed ahead. They watched the dragon spread its wings as soon as they were free of the passage and they looked to be growing faster as they beat through the air.

  Garrick stabbed and hacked at the hindquarters of the dragon, breaking scales and hewing at the flesh beneath. Mordrim's hammer's cracked against the dragon's hide four times before it succeeded in finally pulling its injured posterior free.

  The dragon twisted about on the balcony, snapping at the air and sweeping across the three of them with a final blast of flames from its maw. When the flames died down, Alto was gasping for breath and feeling as though he'd stuck his face in a campfire. His armor was smoking and burning him wherever it touched his flesh. He blinked his eyes and wondered if his eyes had been burned until he realized the bright spot in his vision was the sun in the sky. They'd emerged high on the side of one of the Havara Mountains

  Garrick sprang forward and hacked at the right forelimb of the dragon. His sword bounced back but blue flames leapt up the creature's shoulder. The claw lifted up and out and struck Garrick, one talon ripping into his thigh and cutting deeply all the way to just above his hip. The barbarian left a trail of blood across the stone floor as he fell back and rolled away.

  Alto rushed forward, ignoring the burns and the pain of broken ribs. He let his shield fall to the ground and gripped his sword with both hands. The blisters on his fingers popped against his gauntlets but all he felt was the rush of the moment. Alto's boots slipped across the stone that was slick with Garrick's blood. He fell forward even as he'd already begun the downward plunge of his sword at the dragon's side.

  Alto slammed into the dragon as it jerked away from him. He finished falling forward and lost his grip on his sword. The dragon beat its wings and lifted off the ledge of rock. The blue flames from Garrick's sword climbed up the creature's leg and spread from its shoulder, some burning into the hole in its side Alto's sword had made while others raced up the dragon's wing and enveloped it.

  The dragon roared as it began to gain altitude. The triumphant bellow died away as it shifted to the right in mid-air and then began to turn in a spiral. In seconds, it circled down and began to plummet to the ground hundreds of feet below.

  The mountain beneath them trembled as the dragon crashed to the ground far below. Alto looked up and saw his sword laying a few feet from him on the rocks. He crawled forward and wrapped his burned hand around it, and then gasped as a feeling of strength surged through him and pushed the pain back to where it was bearable.

  "Damn thing's still growing," Mordrim muttered from where he peered over the edge of the balcony. The mountain rumbled again beneath them, long and low this time. "That's not good," Mordrim said.

  The dwarf hurried over to Alto and helped him rise to his feet. "You look a sight, lad. Don't worry, the hair will grow back."

  "My hair?" Alto said. He started to reach up and winced as he felt his ribs grate against each other.

  "We killed a dragon!" Garrick proclaimed. He'd managed to pull himself so he sat with his back against a wall in a pool of his own blood. He clutched at the gash on his leg and looked pale, but even his white cheeks couldn't mute the strength of his grin.

  "Dragon might have killed you, too," Mordrim told him.

  Garrick shrugged. "It died first. My name will be sung around fires. I might even earn a star in the northern sky."

  "That's your retirement plan?" the dwarf asked. He shook his head. "You're daft for sure. Come on, ugly, I can't let you up and die if that's all you've got to leave behind."

  Alto peered over the edge and felt his jaw fall open in awe. The dragon had bounced and rolled off the steep mountainside and then landed, at last, amid a village. What remained of that village was a few buildings at the outskirts. In the midst of it, there was nothing but a hole in the ground. Out of it the reflections of a thousand lights shown, each the reflection of the dragon that was burning in the midst of the sacred underground chamber they'd passed through.

  As Alto watched, the rocks around the edge crumbled and fell in. The buildings went next, falling in a few stones at a time at first, until the ground beneath them gave way and they crashed in on top of it. After several moments, the rumbling stopped and the great chamber was filled with stone. The dragon was buried beneath thousands of tons of rock.

  Chapter 33

  "Are we safe?" Alto asked after the rumbling finally stopped.

  "Safe?" Mordrim repeated. He chuckled and glanced up at the pale face of the barbarian whose leg he was bandaging. "Aye, as long as no more snakes try to kill us, no dragons roast us for dinner, the Shazamir army doesn’t show up, and we stay out of the rain and any strong breezes."

  Alto smirked and reached around to his side to unbuckle his cuirass. His arm was hung up by the damage done to his pauldron, prompting him to remove that first instead. A few minutes later, he stood bereft of most of his armor. His sword was sheathed and he very carefully bent over to pick up his magical shield. He looked at the carved image of the crown over a mountain on the face of it and smiled. Something had survived the dragon unscathed.

  "How are you?" Alto asked Garrick.

  "I won’t be dancing any time soon," the warrior mumbled after a long pause.

  Alto frowned and looked at Mordrim. The dwarf pulled another rope tightly around the barbarian’s leg and tied it off, and then shook his head slowly. Blood still seeped down the sides of his leg and joined the spreading pool. "Dragon missed the artery but he cut his leg open like a fish being filleted. The size of this oaf’s legs, he had a lot of blood in them."

  "Lucky he missed my third leg," Garrick murmured. "That’s even bigger!"

  Mordrim rolled his eyes. "He won’t be walking, that’s for certain."

  "We need to get back to the others," Alto said. "Make sure they’re okay. Karthor can help him then."

  "What about you?" Mordrim asked. "Your side hurting?"

  "Feels like it’s been kicked in," Alto admitted. "I’ll be fine, though. We’ll have to carry Garrick."

  "I can walk!" Garrick protested.

  "Shut your mouth," Mordrim snapped. "You’re not to be knowing up from down in a few more minutes."

  "Even with one leg, I’m taller than you!"

  Mordrim looked at Garrick and put his hand on the man’s shoulder for emphasis. "Garrick, this is serious. Your wits are addled with the blood you’ve lost. Be quiet and stay awake. Talk if you must. Sing if it helps, but do it quiet enough to keep what snakes remain from hunting us down."

  "How are we going to do this?" Alto asked. "I can grab his arms and you his legs?"

  "Too rough and he’s too heavy. I know, you’re a draft horse straight from the fields but the more his leg moves, the more blood runs out of it. He’s not got much left to lose." Mordrim glanced around the balcony and frowned, and then his eyes fell on to the opening into the mountain. "Wait here a minute."

  "Don’t go back to the others alone," Alto said.

  "Bah, only to look close by, don’t worry."

  Alto nodded and moved over to stand next to Garrick. He heard his boots splash in the puddle of blood. Alto looked up at the barbarian, his own blisters, bruises, and broken ribs forgotten.

  "This ain’t so bad," Garrick rumbled. "Cold, though. Not like back home—this cold’s deep in my bones."

  "That’s not good," Alto told him.

  "Probably not," the barbarian agreed with a contrary smile. "We killed a dragon!"

  "Nothing to it," Alto said.

  Garri
ck laughed for a moment and then fell silent. "Thought I’d die in battle," he said. "This is close enough, though."

  "Nobody’s dying yet," Alto said, worried for the man.

  "Sorry about your sister."

  Alto stiffened and then winced from the pain in his side. "What about her?"

  "Only person alive with worse luck than you. Saints put a curse on your family."

  "The saints didn’t do the evil to my family," Alto said. "Men did that. The saints have helped me to put things right."

  Garrick sighed and fell silent. He jerked his head up a moment later, lifting his chin off his chest. "Still, sorry about Caitlyn. She’s a pretty girl. Smart. Willful. Strong." He nodded and smiled. "Make a good wife."

  "She still will," Alto insisted.

  Garrick squinted his eyes as he stared up at Alto. The warrior blocked the setting sun from shining in his eyes but it gave him a halo effect that made Garrick smirk. "She might," he agreed.

  "She will."

  After a lengthy delay, the barbarian responded in a slurred voice. "Wasn’t doubting her." He paused and licked his lips. "Just takes the right kind of man to see past the harm that’s been done."

  Alto grimaced and knelt down beside the barbarian. He pulled off his waterskin and held it up to Garrick’s lips. The barbarian drank from it and then coughed a little. Alto pulled it away but held it ready until the barbarian shook his head.

  "Thanks," he whispered.

  "Do you, um, want to pray or anything?" Alto asked, suddenly uncomfortable.

  Garrick shook his head and settled his gaze on Alto. "Preth’s got no need for that. A hunter stands before him when he fails his final hunt. It’s how that hunt went and all the ones before that matter. Nothing I can do now will change what he thinks of me."

  "We’ll get you back up to your home, no matter what happens," Alto vowed.

  Garrick snorted. "The northlands suck. Always cold, even in the dead of summer. No, go find Mord and head on back. Leave me here in the warm sun. Go on. Go find your woman and your sister. I’ll make sure that dragon don’t dig himself out and come after you."

  "I can’t leave you here!" Alto said.

  "My sword," Garrick said, lolling his head around to try to find it.

  Alto turned around and saw it lying on the ground behind him, just outside the pool of blood. The blue flames had died. He picked it up and handed it to the barbarian gently, afraid the man would drop it and hurt himself worse.

  Garrick held it up, pulling on strength Alto was surprised to see. The flames burst out of the hilt and ran up the blade but unlike before, they were less than a finger’s width long.

  "What’s that mean?" Alto asked.

  "No snakes close by," Garrick guessed. He offered a sloppy grin and added, "Or dragons."

  A scuffling noise drew Alto’s attention to the hallway. Mordrim emerged from it, dragging two long wooden beams with some cloth draped across them. He saw Garrick was still conscious and let out his breath. "Hey, stinky," he addressed his fallen friend. "I found your axe in the hallway. Must have been knocked loose before the dragon got out here."

  "Keep it," Garrick said.

  "You lazy dog," Mordrim berated him. "I’m not carrying your gear. Get your bear-loving arse onto this thing and we’ll carry you back."

  "Got a good seat picked out," Garrick complained.

  Mordrim dropped the litter beside him. "All right, you can come back some other time then." He bent over and picked up Garrick’s feet and then pulled them over onto the cloth. Garrick cried out and dropped his sword as he threw his hands out to keep himself from falling. They splashed in the blood pooled under him.

  Alto clenched his teeth and moved up next to the barbarian so he could grab his shoulders. The warrior moaned as he hoisted the larger man up and moved him fully onto the litter.

  "Get his sword," Mordrim said. "I’ll drag him."

  "Drag me?" Garrick asked.

  Mordrim stepped between the wooden beams and squatted down. He picked them up and caused the barbarian to cry out as he fell back and found himself staring at the sky. "You stupid dwarf," Garrick cursed. "You picked up the wrong end!"

  "I ain’t the stupid one," Mordrim educated him. "You’re bleeding out your leg and the blood comes from your chest. Keep the leg higher than your chest and you keep more blood."

  Garrick turned to look at Alto. He’d grabbed onto the two wooden beams he hung between for stability and opened his mouth. Alto shook his head and picked up Garrick’s sword. "Take it up with him another day," Alto advised.

  The barbarian scowled. "Don’t think you’ll get away with this, shorty!"

  "Might be we’ll have to take your leg to keep you alive," Mordrim mused. "Guess who’d be calling who Stumpy then?"

  Garrick’s eyes widened and even Alto laughed. The dwarf dragged him back into the hallway without another word. Alto turned and gazed at the setting sun among the beautiful mountains. A gentle breeze sprung up, blowing dust and smoke his way. He sighed. They’d come so far but had so much yet to do. They’d found Namitus but his sister was still out there somewhere.

  Alto tried a deep breath and had to let it go as the pain built in his side. He scowled and vowed, "Don’t worry, Caitlyn. I’m coming for you."

  ###

  Sands of Betrayal

  By Jason Halstead

  ©2013

  Chapter 1

  Prince Hafnirrin studied the hill at the forest's edge and watched the ogres move across the trail that led out of the mountains. A gentle breeze kicked up out of the mountains and carried the smell of smoke. He scowled. He could smell the foul stink of the ogres’ wind. He raised his hand to signal his archers.

  "My lord, they've done us no harm!" his friend and advisor, Scoutmaster Gejallrim, hissed. "I've seen humans working alongside them."

  "Because we've caught them first," the prince growled. "They are monsters and nothing more. Humans are little better than these unwashed beasts. I'll not have elven blood spilled because I hesitated."

  Geja clamped his lips together and nodded. The prince turned his head to the archers concealed in the trees on either side of him and thrust his hand forward. They drew back the strings on their slender bows. Their bows buzzed with the sound of a hummingbird as their arrows took flight.

  The eight elves drew a second arrow and fitted it to their strings while the first found their monstrous targets toiling among the rocks. Two of the seven ogres fell as arrows pierced their leathers and flesh. One struggled back to his feet but the other lay thrashing on the ground as blood poured from a lucky gash in his throat.

  A cry of surprise went up from the brutish miners. They snapped off the arrows and grabbed up picks and hammers. An ogre with a scar on the side of his head roared out orders to the others. They dove behind rocks and small trees, seeking cover as the second flight of arrows took them. The leader of the miners jerked as an arrow found a home in his shoulder. He plucked it out, snapping it in his meaty fist and tossing it to the ground.

  "If not the arrow, then the blade!" Prince Hafnirrin snarled. He leapt out of his tree and landed on the ground with barely a scuffle. He drew his long saber, a narrow, gently curving blade, and led the charge up the trail that led into the mountains. His men followed behind, their own blades drawn and ready.

  "Prince!" Gejallrim hissed as he tried to keep up with his friend.

  The zealous royal ignored him and cleared the top of the path by leaping out of the reach of an ogre and diving into a roll. He launched himself to his feet and lashed out, hewing into an ogre's thigh and twisting away as the ogre howled and staggered into another one of his kin.

  The ogre leader shouted orders and used his hammer to smash an elven scout in the chest. The sound of the elf's breath exploding was secondary to the popping of his ribs as he was sent flying back down the hill. Two more elves leapt out of the way but a third was struck by the doomed elf and sent rolling down the path.

  Geja's sword cut open a
ribbon of flesh along the ogre leader's side but the elf darted away from him to run to the aid of his prince. Hafnirrin was twisting and dodging the three ogres that surrounded him while the fourth one that he'd crippled held his thigh and leaned against a wall of rock.

  Hafnirrin danced between a slicing pick and a crushing hammer. The third ogre stiffened and snarled when Geja's blade dug into the back of his thigh. The elven prince seized the chance and sliced across the ogre's belly, gashing open his leather shirt and spilling the ogre's guts onto his thighs and ground.

  The ogre leader shouted more orders to his men in their crude language. He stumbled as an elf crashed into him, driven there by an ogre whipping his pick around to free his weapon of the impaled man. The scout stared up through his almond-shaped eyes at the ogre leader. He clung to his jerkin with his arms since his legs had no life left in them. The elf drew a dagger and thrust it into the ogre's hip as the ogre drove his fist into his head and knocked him loose.

  The ogre snarled and wrenched the blade free, and then turned in time to have another arrow strike him. This one dug a bloody furrow along his head and bounced off his skull. He ducked and turned, growling in pain and fury. He saw four of his men were down, leaving only himself and another ogre still standing. The third had blood pouring down his leg from where he crouched.

  The ogre felt another fiery sting as one of the nimble elves cut him on the back. He turned and swung his hammer, driving the elf back but missing him. He kept turning and came back around to see the elf with the silver star holding his dark green cloak about his throat lunging towards him. He tried to bat the elf's sword aside with his hand but the blade thrust into his side and then sawed out. His blood sprayed across the rocks and ground, but the ogre was beyond caring.

  Prince Hafnirrin ducked under the clumsy hammer strike. He spun away from the ogre and took a two-handed grip on his blade as he turned. His blade cut into the opposite side of the ogre and stopped after cleaving one rib in half. The elf pulled his blade free at an angle, sawing through more flesh and causing the ogre to teeter on his tree-sized legs.