The Dragon War

by Salvador Mercer

  “Mm-hmm,” Zokar prompted. “You’re forgetting someone.”

  “I’m not forgetting her, I’m taking my time is all,” Diamedes said. After a pause and an intense gaze between the two men, he said, “She stayed with Alexi as well for as long as she could before we left.”

  “Then the two of you met with Master Brown Leaf,” Zokar made a statement, not a question.

  “You know?”

  “That is how we found out that your destination would be Ulsthor. What we don’t know is where you’ve been the last few months since… since she brought us word of your intentions.” Zokar said.

  “Well,” Diamedes began, “At least I know that Alyssa informed you of my plans.”

  “She did,” Zokar said.

  Diamedes nodded. “I needed to do a few things, discuss an urgent matter and exchange something of value with an old friend first near Moartown. The winter snows came early, lasted long, and fell heavily. I found myself trapped in the Felsic Mountains till the first real thaw of spring.”

  “Now the picture becomes clearer,” Zokar said. “You had more than just a few of us worried once you went missing. There was no word, and no sign, of you. Many began to fear the worse.”

  “Most thoughtful of you all, but I was fine if not incapacitated by the weather.” Diamedes said. “So Alyssa made it back to Balaria?”

  “She did,” Zokar said. “As I said, she brought us news of not only your intentions, but of your heroic deeds with regards to slaying the red dragon. That is a feat that will long be celebrated.”

  “If there is anything or anyone left to celebrate with,” Diamedes’ voice turned sad. “Did Seth receive my message?”

  “Yes, Master Seth did indeed receive it, though your questioning is over for now. Time is short, and I need to know if you still intend to convey the knowledge of your travels and experiences to the King and Duke?”

  Diamedes nodded, “I do, but first I think I need to talk to someone else more urgently.”

  “Who?” Zokar asked.

  “Someone who is as important as the King and Duke, one who can stop this war.”

  “Nothing can stop this war with the dragons,” Zokar said.

  Diamedes held his hands up and shook his head while closing his eyes for emphasis. When he reopened them he said, “Not the war between dragons and us, but instead the war between our realms.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Zokar said, his eyes going wide. “That would mean talking to…”

  Diamedes allowed the Balarian time to say it, but when nothing further came out of the man’s mouth, Diamedes finished his thought for him, “…The High Mage.”

  Chapter 3

  Dragon & Trolls

  The men had slept fitfully through the night with no apparent issues. The next day they spent resting, while Damien left to secure a pony for their use at the small village using coinage and some supplies that Zokar had provided him to barter with.

  The men spoke little and then left at dawn early the next day walking north by northeast towards the Felsic Mountains. It was unspoken but they had two understandings that guided their decision making. First, the dragons could see better at night so there was no advantage to travelling by day. Second, the Kesh would patrol the roads and so any travel would have to be cross country and away from the populated parts of Kesh.

  The morning sun seemed to do more and more warming with each day that passed bringing Agon closer to summer time. The pony was utilized to carry Diamedes since his leg was still injured enough to slow him from walking at a necessary pace and from travelling very far each day. Horses were already in short supply and the arrival of the dragons last fall, in not only Kesh but the civilized realms as well, placed a great strain on this particular resource. When not able to eat humans, dragons appeared to prefer horse meat.

  “Are you sure that this shaman… ah, I mean this cleric can read our instructions?” Azor asked.

  “Of course he can read, probably better than a Northman,” Damien said, his near brush with being flayed alive now a long distant memory.

  “What will that metal stick of yours look like when I stick it through your spine?” Azor said evenly.

  Damien walked towards the front while Azor brought up the rear. No one would know the land around these parts better than the former Kesh wizard apprentice and he took point with Zokar right behind him. The distance between him and the Northman emboldened the tall, swarthy magic-user. “I am not sure you have seen the true might and power of a wizard’s staff. Pray that it is never demonstrated for you.”

  “I think Dour would be doing the praying…” Zokar said softly.

  “You are simply rude,” Damien turned his attention to the Balarian assassin. “I heard you and the barbarian talking last night and you have never explained your business with the northern clans, what you were doing and why.”

  “You don’t need to know my business, not now and not then.” Zokar continued the quick pace and with Diamedes on top of the pony, the others had no problem keeping up. Both the Kesh and Northman had long legs and long strides.

  “I do if you intend to march us into Keshtor and right up to the Onyx Tower,” Damien said, looking at the ground in front of him and picking his path carefully over the uneven rocks. “May as well have us kill ourselves now than knock on the High Mage’s door and announce that we have a few questions for him and a proposal.”

  “You are too melodramatic,” Zokar said.

  “I do have the right plan?” Damien asked.

  Zokar nodded though the Kesh wizard could not see him, “You do, but we’ll do this real quiet like.”

  “Oh, I am sure that whispering in his ear will make a difference,” Damien said.

  “He can’t be this dense,” Azor said from the rear.

  “He has died a few times,” Diamedes said, looking over his shoulder at the tall Northman. “It could be that this has affected his intellectual acumen.” Azor gave Diamedes an intense stare but only grunted, not indicating whether or not he understood him.

  “Why could we have not waited another day or two for Dour?” Damien asked. “It would have benefited the historian as well. The man could use a few more days of rest.”

  At this, Zokar did take a few paces quicker to catch and stop Damien in mid-stride, grabbing the Kesh man by his shoulders and turning him to look northwest. Pointing a finger at a large, circular object in the blue sky he said, “That is why we can’t wait.”

  “Now who is being melodramatic?” Damien shot back. “You could have simply said it was Akun’s impending approach, no need to halt our progress for a display of drama.” Damien turned and continued his quick pace while both Diamedes’ pony and Azor had to halt and then resume their walking from the unexpected pause in their march.

  Zokar walked quickly to stay abreast with the Kesh magic-user. “Time is short and if Diamedes can’t convince the Kesh from waging war on the other realms of Agon, then there will be no fight left in us for when the real menace arrives.”

  “I understand that this is still a theory of our good historian,” Damien said.

  “It is,” Diamedes answered before Zokar could. “Unfortunately, I failed in my primary quest to alert the central realms of the awakening of the dragons.”

  “That responsibility doesn’t lie only with you,” Zokar said in an attempt to console the royal historian.

  “Perhaps it doesn’t, but it doesn’t take the sting of failure away from me and doesn’t help those who have already perished in this war.”

  Zokar stopped and it took a few seconds for Damien to do the same. The Balarian took a few steps back to where Diamedes had pulled on his pony’s reins and sat waiting with Azor standing stoically behind him. “How do you feel?” Zokar asked.

  Diamedes looked to where Zokar’s gaze had focused and said, “My leg is better, though it hurts when I bend my knee more than a few inches.”

  “And your ribs?”

  Diamedes crossed his arms acr
oss his chest and stifled a grimace. “They’re very sore and I fear it will take a long time for them to heal.”

  “And your—”

  “No need to ask, my head is much better and the swelling on the back is almost gone. Now tell me why you’re asking all of a sudden?”

  Zokar sighed and looked across the landscape of semi-arid brush, small trees and dry gullies that pushed out from the nearby mountain chain to their north. “You’ve paid a high price already in your efforts to alert the leaders of Agon. You have done much good so far and I believe you’re too hard on yourself. Allow others to shoulder the burden and let your soul be at rest in this matter.”

  “I do not think I have ever heard a Balarian speak with so much empathy,” Damien commented.

  “I would have to agree,” Diamedes said. “Thank you for your concern, Zokar, but I fear that while I can’t accomplish my primary task any longer, it is still my duty to try to bring the warring realms to at least a truce amongst ourselves before the arrival of Dor Akun.”

  “You know what will happen when Father Death arrives, don’t you?” Zokar asked.

  “Yes,” Diamedes closed his eyes and bowed his head, “more dragons will arrive and tilt the battle to their favor. This time, they may very well wipe out all of our species.”

  “This time?” Azor spoke up from behind.

  “Diamedes has a theory that the dragons arrive every two-hundred years along with the planet, Dor Akun,” Damien explained.

  “Our elders spoke often of the demon awakening every seven generations,” Azor said.

  Zokar checked on the leg bandage and then moved to the cloth strip that covered Diamedes’ torso to bind the ribs tight against movement so that the fractures could heal. “Lore in Balaria spoke often of the same, so it strikes me as strange that so many in our civilized realms would not heed a call of danger from their kind.”

  “Some have to see it to believe it,” Damien said. “Are we going to take a break now while you tend to him?”

  Zokar looked over his shoulder, “I think we need to continue until dusk, but Diamedes appeared to be in some discomfort from the ride today and I wanted to check on him.”

  “Your concern for the man’s welfare is duly noted,” Damien said. “Especially for an assassin. I know a good place to make camp where we will be out of sight for all but any creature flying almost directly overhead.”

  “Make way then,” Zokar said, finishing his tending duties and heading off to follow the Kesh magic-user.

  “Are you sure that Dour received our first message?” Damien asked without looking back, continuing to look at the ground and chose a path that was best suited for a pony and three walkers.

  “Nothing can be sure,” Zokar started to explain. “Word was left with the usual informants, but the arrival of the dragons was unexpected, and no one can be certain how many citizens of Ulsthor perished that night.”

  “We should have returned to Ulsthor first and ensured that Dour was in good health.” Damien protested.

  “If anyone could survive from a dragon attack, it would be that cleric,” Zokar said. “His exploits are almost legendary.”

  “How would you know?” Damien asked.

  “Actually, I recounted the battle with the red dragon for Zokar’s benefit,” Diamedes said. “I told him of the attack and how Master Dour managed to survive a dragon’s tail hitting him and hurling him across its lair and into a rocky, cavern wall. The dark priest managed to not only survive, but to pick you up and carry you to safety. He also revived me and brought you back to life…”

  Damien nodded, though his gaze remained forward, “As well as your holy warrior.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Diamedes said.

  “It was your choice,” Damien reminded the man.

  “What happened?” Azor asked.

  Diamedes looked over his shoulder, “We are discussing the battle with the red demon queen from the tale I told you two nights ago.”

  “Ah, I remember now. Tough little man like you,” Azor said.

  “One could say that,” Diamedes said then he pulled on the reins to stop his pony. “Bloody hell. Don’t tell me I’m seeing what I think I’m seeing.”

  The group stopped, each man looking at Diamedes who had the leisure of gazing around the countryside since his attention did not have to be focused on where he was walking. The men traced his gaze north to a hillock far away and what appeared to be three large figures standing there looking down at them. Zokar had sharp eyes, but it was Azor who spoke first, “Ogres.”

  Zokar corrected him, “Trolls.”

  Azor squinted, “I said trolls.”

  “You said ogres,” Damien corrected.

  “They are the same thing,” Azor said.

  “Let’s move to that grove of trees over there,” Zokar said, pointing about two-hundred feet in front of them. “It’s in that hollow as well and should prevent our silhouettes from being seen.”

  The group moved out at a quick pace and Diamedes said, “I think they’ve spotted us, one of them pointed in our direction.”

  “Hard to see them,” Damien said. “Are you sure it pointed?”

  “No, I’m not sure, but that’s what it looked like,” Diamedes said.

  The group finally reached the small grove and hid behind some bushes and two of the larger trees while taking some time to peek out and look north again. They saw no real movement other than the trio of trolls shifting slightly as if shuffling around or changing their weight from foot to foot. It was difficult for them to distinguish details as the creatures were so far away. Damien spoke first, “They do not look too dangerous. I think if we exclude our injured historian here, we can easily take them on one on one.”

  “Three on three,” Azor said.

  “If you divide properly, that is the same thing as one on one. Do you not study mathematics in the North?” Damien asked, taking a moment to let the tree limbs close while he stood upright and looked at the large Northman.

  Azor seemed to ignore him continuing to look through the branches of a tree northward and said, “Three on one.”

  “Now your math is quite wrong,” Damien started. “Three on three is one of them for one of us, or as I said earlier, one on one.”

  Zokar interrupted while also never taking his eyes off their adversaries. “Azor’s math is sufficient enough. Now it is three on one.”

  “What?” Damien exclaimed, pulling one branch down and the other he pushed up, resuming his gaze at the trolls. Diamedes was the only one that could not see past the trees and remained atop his mount in blissful ignorance.

  On either side of the original group, two more groups of trolls had arrived. Each with three for a total of nine trolls. The group seemed to be discussing something and several arms waved violently about as if at least a few of them were enraged. Diamedes spoke, breaking the silence that had overcome their own small group. “So nine trolls, is that correct?”

  “Correct,” Zokar said.

  “Not so good odds,” Azor said. “I can take three of them, but I worry for the frail Kesh.”

  “Who are you calling frail?” Damien said, his voice sounding offended. “I wield the arcane in this staff of mine and can easily take three of them. Perhaps you should worry about the assassin?”

  “It won’t be easy, but I think we can take three each,” Zokar said. “Too bad it won’t be only three.”

  “I do not see—” Damien stopped in mid-sentence. “Damn the nine, where did they come from?”

  Diamedes was getting impatient unable to see what was transpiring on the far away hillock. “How many now are we talking about?”

  “Double at least,” Zokar said.

  “Eighteen?” Diamedes asked, his voice faltering slightly.

  “More like a score,” Azor said.

  “Six to one…” Diamedes said, thinking out loud. “We should flee, head as quickly as we can to Keshtor. Besides, my business there won’t wait.”

  “
Too late,” Azor stated the obvious, at least from his perspective.

  “The trolls are running this way,” Zokar said, moving back and looking at Diamedes. “With their long strides, you and this pony of yours won’t make it very far.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Diamedes said. “With all due respect, I don’t think the three of you could have handled more than one troll each.”

  “You’re probably right,” Zokar said. “However, our options are limited. We may as well come out and prepare to fight.”

  The group walked around the edges of the small grove and stood in front of it watching as nearly two-dozen trolls ran headlong down the hillock directly at them. They were still so far away that no sound could be heard and it would take the better part of a quarter hour for the trolls to reach them. “Couldn’t we head south, away from them, and find shelter somewhere? Hide from them?” Diamedes asked.

  “Not with that beast of theirs out front,” Zokar said.

  “You do have good eyes,” Damien gave the Balarian the compliment. Out in front, but apparently held back by an invisible length of rope or strip of leather, was a large wolf that could hunt them by smell alone.

  “It will track us unless it rains.” Azor said matter-of-factly.

  Damien and Diamedes looked up at the mostly clear sky and muttered under their breaths. There would be no rain anytime soon. “They seem excited,” Damien said.

  “That does not look like war lust,” Azor said.

  “What do you mean?” Diamedes asked. Despite still being on top of his mount, the men nearly locked eyes as the Northman was so tall that the top of his head was almost as high as Diamedes’.

  “They run, but from what?” Azor asked rhetorically.

  Zokar added, “I think Azor is right. They aren’t running at us so much as they are running away from something.”

  “From what?” Damien asked. “The hill blocks our view of the north.”

  “Well, that didn’t take long,” Diamedes said.