Enslaved: The Odyssey of Nath Dragon - Book 2 (The Lost Dragon Chronicles)

by Craig Halloran

  Glancing at the beast’s gaping maul, he noticed a sea-blue light coming out of its throat. He pulled his hammer to his chest, fully expecting the beast to come to life again for another round of battle. “Oh, please be dead, I can’t take any more.” When nothing happened, Nath crawled closer. The glow came from deep inside the beast’s smelly throat. He gagged. “Please, somebody or something give me a reason not to do this.”

  He wedged the hammer back inside the monster’s slimy mouth. Careful not to poke himself on its teeth, he reached elbow deep in its throat. His fingers fished around and touched something warm as fire and smooth as a stone. Clasping it inside the palm of his hand, he pulled it out. The stone was three times the size of a hen’s egg, oval, and glowed like lights beneath the city. The light inside swirled and sparkled like living things. “You must be the Star of Unity, but I think all you did was get a bunch of other people killed.”

  He tucked the stone inside his breastplate and searched the courtyard for Blust’s body. He found the little hermix where he left him, still intact, and picked him up. “Thank goodness you aren’t broken.”

  Nath ambled out of the temple’s courtyard entrance. Standing beyond the arches, he looked back. There were more people within. It was possible he might have destroyed the cure. He just hoped that the woman he saved, or possibly Ruffle, could figure it out. Perhaps the Stone of Unity would do it, but he didn’t care. He did his part. He was taking Blust to his father and heading back to Slaver Town.

  He made it down to the cave and found the woman shivering inside. There was no sign of Ruffle, but the woman was warming herself by the fire. Her eyes widened when she saw Nath.

  “You’re safe,” Nath said, creeping inside. “The basilisk is dead. I’m a friend. Do you remember?”

  She nodded and huddled back up by the fire, shivering. Nath handed her the Stone of Unity. “Here, perhaps this will warm your bones. It’s yours, or your people’s.” He peered around. “Have you seen a furry little man who has the appearance of a groundhog?”

  Holding the stone, she gave a quick nod. “Yes. He said he’ll see you again at another time.”

  “What? But I saved his son, Blust.” He held out the statue that looked more hedgehog than person. “Why would he leave?”

  The woman gave him a curious look. “There is not a person called Blust in our temple. We have no names, but that statue you hold is just a statue.”

  “No, it’s a person,” Nath said.

  The frigid woman shook her head. “No, it’s just a hedgehog. I know. I chiseled it from the stone myself.” She stood with the stone in her hands. “I thank you. Now, I must go and restore my brothers and sisters. I hope you find your friend.” She kissed his cheek. “Please, return for a visit sometime, or if you like, you can help me restore my friends. I’m certain I could use your assistance, if it’s even possible.”

  Shaking his head in disbelief, Nath said, “You might need the lizard’s glands. I don’t know. Are you certain that Ruffle left?”

  She nodded, patted his cheek, and departed.

  Moments later, Nath exited the cave and screamed at the top of his lungs, “Ruuuffffle!”

  CHAPTER 38

  Nath walked down to the base of the mountain, into the forest, and across the grasslands without stopping. He didn’t stop for over a day, traversing the woodlands with a scowl on his face. He’d been duped. He had no idea why he was set up, but he knew how it happened. Ruffle did it. End of story.

  The woman he saved from Nameless stated that Ruffle said they would meet again. Nath hoped that wasn’t the case. If he saw the little groundhog of a man, he might be tempted to kill him.

  Is there anyone in this world that I can trust!

  The only good thing that happened was that when he left the mountain, he got out of the snow. His toes thawed out from the walking, and the sun warmed his face. He basically stayed warm by walking. He considered running, but he wasn’t sure where he was, and given his situation, he wasn’t in any hurry.

  If Ruffle didn’t really have a son, why did he send me there?

  Did Ruffle want Nath to kill the basilisk and free the people of Nameless, or did the furry, impish man want the basilisk to kill him?

  His stomach moaned. Nath didn’t care. He scooped water out of the streams and drank a few times, but onward he went, one step at a time, weighing everything that happened.

  Nath had left Dragon Home to pursue the murdering elves who killed the fledglings. The High Dragon Council banished him for one hundred years for leaving. Maefon, an elven woman of the Trahaydeen, fled with the elves. Nath loved her, and he found it hard to believe that she would have been involved in the atrocious act. He felt she was in danger. All of that seemed as if it happened ages ago. The closer he tried to get to their trail, the farther away he became. He had been completely lost in the new world. A ship without a rudder. He made one mistake after another.

  He came upon a split in the streams. Standing between them, he contemplated his next move.

  Nath, you are free now. Free to pursue the Caligin and find Maefon. Free to forget about all of the others that have brought you nothing but heartache and harm.

  He picked at a scab on his forearm. The basilisk’s claws had cut him up all over. The wounds burned. Squatting down over the stream, he rinsed the blood off his face. “I must look like I’ve been spit out of a dragon’s mouth. I feel like I’ve been spit out of a dragon’s mouth.” He stood up, stretched his back, and groaned. At least his wounds were healing. The nagging from the knife blade Foster stuck in his side was almost gone. He considered himself fortunate that painful wound wasn’t any worse. He was even luckier that the basilisk didn’t get the best of him.

  He followed the stream south, thinking about Calypsa, Rond, and Slaver Town. As far as he knew, it had only been a couple of days since he’d escaped. A lot of people risked their lives for him, including Homer and Radagan. Slaver Town was a wicked place. People were taken against their will and sold to others. Nath couldn’t understand how people could do such a thing. At the same time, many people within were very sordid. He wanted to help his friends, but were they really his friends?

  Did Calypsa and Rond only come to rescue him because they wanted his magic items? Did they even escape the slavers? Something ate at his gut. He felt the half-dryad woman was sincere.

  But, I didn’t ask her to rescue me. They are not my problem. Perhaps they do need to be punished for the crimes that they committed.

  After two days of straight walking, he came upon a road that led to a small northern logging and timber city called Huskan. Despite his shabby attire, he walked down the main road, ignoring the suspicious stares from the men and women he passed. He stepped onto the porch of the first tavern that he saw. A pair of old men sitting on a bench in front of the window were whittling wood. One of them had a big head, was skinny, and had a wad of chaw in his mouth. He said to Nath, “Stop gawking. Can’t you see we’re busy?”

  Nath pushed through the double doors of the tavern. The room was warm and smoky. The tables were half filled, and it smelled like cooked food. With his tummy gurgling, he moved to the bar and sat on a stool. He propped the hammer against the bar. A meaty older woman in a pink apron with a face so chubby he could barely see her eyes said, “What will you be having?”

  Offering a smile, Nath said, “What do you have that is free?”

  “Hacksaw!” she shouted. “We have another loafer!”

  CHAPTER 39

  A shadow fell over Nath. The floorboards groaned behind him. He looked back over his shoulder. His eyes moved up. The man behind him wore a white apron and had the scraggly graying beard of a woodsman. His eyes were heavy. He was built like a chimney with the thick forearms of a blacksmith. Respectfully, Nath said, “I take it you are Hacksaw?”

  “The one and only,” Hacksaw said, slapping a hard, calloused hand on Nath’s shoulder. “We don’t take kind to highwaymen, loafers, and drifters. We work hard in Huskan
.” He was well-spoken. “It’s time you were going.”

  Nath lifted his hands up. “I don’t want any trouble, but I was hoping for some charity. I’ll be going.”

  The old woman behind the bar said, “I don’t hear those feet shuffling. Perhaps Hacksaw needs to help you out of that seat.”

  Nath slid out of the stool. His stomach moaned so loud the woman’s eyes appeared beneath her fleshy eyelids. He gave her a nod and grabbed his hammer. “If I had money, I’d be happy to pay.” He looked around at the cozy establishment. The patrons were enjoying tall mugs of ale, hot bread slathered with butter, and slabs of ham and steak that made his mouth water. “I was robbed recently. I can work for it?”

  “We have all the help we need and are going to need,” Hacksaw said, pushing Nath toward the door. “Just keep walking. You won’t find any more charity from the rest of this city either. They’ll throw you in the jail and won’t feed you there either. There’s plenty of streams. Learn to fish.” He caught a glimpse of Nath’s hammer. His eyes popped open. He reached for Stone Smiter. “Eh… where did you get this?”

  Nath pulled it away, cradling it to his chest. “It’s my sledgehammer and not your concern. I guess I’ll learn to fish with it.”

  The big man rubbed his beard. Looking down at Nath, he said, “I’m a fair man.” He laid his hand on Nath’s shoulder, more like a friend this time. “Why don’t you tell me about that hammer over a bowl of Granda’s meat stew?”

  “Hacksaw, son, what are you doing?” the old woman said, shaking her head. The curly waves of short hair shook. “You are setting a bad precedent for our customers.”

  “Please, just fix this young man a bowl of your stew, Mother. I’m willing to pay for a good story. It’s been a while since I’ve heard a good one.” He looked Nath in the eyes. “What do you say? Granda’s stew is really good.”

  “It smells good, but I think I’m going to take my business somewhere else. Sorry, but my story is a private matter. I’d rather not share it.” Nath pulled away from the man’s strong hand. He departed from the tavern with a shove through the doors. He’d shared enough with Nina in the Oxen Inn, and that got him in a heap of trouble. He didn’t need any more. He was better off starving, but he could at least try to fish, eat berries, nuts, or something. Head down, he walked down the road, following the main road out of the timber city.

  Hacksaw caught up with him. “Listen, stranger, I hate to see you run off without something to eat, regardless of whether or not you share your story.” The bearded man offered a loaf of bread in a cloth napkin. Looking around for other prying eyes, he said, “Listen, we can’t just let anyone wander in and feed them. We run a decent tavern. The people work hard. There’s nothing they despise more than seeing someone take something for nothing. But I can see you are truly in need. Take this bread and best to you, young man. Just don’t tell anyone that you received it from me.”

  Nath squeezed the soft round loaf of bread in his hands. “Thank you. I am grateful.”

  “Son, you looked like you wrestled a bear.” Hacksaw walked alongside Nath. “What in the world have you been through?”

  “A lot.” Nath tore off a hunk of bread and put it in his mouth. “This is the best bread I’ve had in… years… oh, aside from Radagan’s cream cakes. I did have one of those.”

  “Do you mind?” Hacksaw said, taking the cloth from the bread. He covered the sledgehammer head and tied it off. “It’s less threatening. I bet you could use that sledge to bust up a lot of wood, even though I’m pretty sure that’s not what it is made for.”

  “You sound like you are doing some fishing now, Hacksaw?”

  The big man chuckled. “I can’t help but be curious… uh, do you mind telling me your name, or is that private too?”

  “Nath.”

  “Well, Nath, unlike these hatchet men and saw seers you see milling about in this town, I’ve been around this world a time or two. That hammer you carry, it’s special”—he shrugged his brows—“isn’t it?”

  “You want it, don’t you?”

  “No, not at all,” he said, lifting his hands. “Honestly, I just want the story. You know, I used to adventure, when I was younger. I have a sword that hangs over my mantel.” He showed a full set of teeth behind his beard-covered mouth. “It’s magic. Would you like to see it?”

  “Is there more food involved?”

  “Food, a place to sleep, and mead.”

  Nath nodded his chin. “I’ll take it.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Nath sat in an armchair crafted from the local timber, facing a stone hearth. Hacksaw sat adjacent to him, looking into the fire, smoking from a long-stemmed tobacco pipe fashioned from some kind of animal horn. The cottage was cozy and warm, made from logs of the local woodland. Flannel blankets and cushions padded the furniture as well as dressed the windows.

  Hacksaw blew a long stream of smoke from his mouth. “Did you get enough to eat, Nath?”

  “That’s the best I’ve eaten in a very long time. I really am grateful.” Nath glanced up at the sword that hung over the mantel. It was a cutlass, a one-sided blade with a slight curve at the end. It had a rounded steel crossguard and a handle made from either bone or horn. Nath wasn’t sure. On the pommel was a jade-green face, fashioned like the face of some sort of goblin. “So, that’s your blade, eh? It’s quite remarkable.”

  “I call it the Green Tongue. When he’s all worked up he gets a greenish shine to him. I put a lot of hurting on the goblin hordes back in the day.” Hacksaw poked two fingers at the sword. “I took it from a goblin commander that tried to slay me. It was one nasty fight.”

  Granda came in from the kitchen with a mug of something that was steaming. “Are you still bragging about that sword? It could have killed you, you know.” She shook her head. “He was always wanting to get into a scrap. All he talked about was adventuring, being a swashbuckler or legionnaire, ever since he was little. My other sons had more sense about them.” She handed Nath the steaming brew. “That’s what I get for taking to the coast for a spell.”

  “Look how big I am, Granda.” He spread his arms. “This build is made for fighting.”

  “It’s a big target, that’s all it is!”

  “Yes, you’ve told me a thousand and one times, including today. Granda, are you comfortable with Nath staying?”

  Granda gave Nath a once-over. “He ain’t hurting my eyes.” She shuffled away, wiping her hands on her apron before disappearing into the kitchen. “Good night.”

  Hacksaw smiled. “I think she likes you.”

  “Good.” Nath sipped the brew. It had a sweet, spicy flavor. “Is this mead?”

  “Oh, heavens no, that’s Granda’s pumpkin cider. Would you rather have mead?”

  “Actually, I’m enjoying this.” The steam warmed his nose. “So, you’re an adventurer?”

  “Retired, so to speak.” Hacksaw puffed out a ring of smoke. It drifted over the mantel and dissipated on the sword. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

  “I’ve encountered a few adventurers. They didn’t turn out to be what I thought they were. It cost me.”

  Hacksaw’s sausage fingers rubbed the hair on his cheeks. “Adventurers are often a sordid lot. I’ve traveled with many men and women like that myself. Generally speaking, we are driven by the challenge of facing the unknown and cheating death. But some, well, they are in it for glory, coins, and precious baubles. Look around.” He tipped his chin. “All I have to show for my days of triumph is that sword that hangs on the wall. All of the other items didn’t have so much meaning. But that sword you see, there are stories that come along with it. Stories and memories.” His voice trailed off. “Good and bad.” With a grunt, he leaned forward, grabbed a log, and tossed it in the fire. He eased back into his chair. Eyeing his sword, he said, “It’s a marvel I’m still here.”

  The fire popped. Bright-orange sparks shot out from the crackling new wood. Nath breathed deeply through his nose. He liked Hacksa
w. There wasn’t anything pretentious about the man at all. He said what he said, and showed what he felt. It seemed very clear to Nath that he wasn’t trying to hide anything. He picked up the hammer that was leaning against the arm of his chair and handed it over to Hacksaw. “Take a look.”

  Hacksaw took the cloth towel from the head of the hammer, revealing the dark head of metal. “That’s an extraordinary size for a sledge. It has the feel of one of the usual girth.” He balanced it behind the head with two fingers. “Remarkably balanced, but an unusual weapon for a man such as you. You have the build of a swordsman.”

  “I am a swordsman, but I don’t have a sword. And I’ve only been with the hammer a few days. It’s called Stone Smiter.”

  Hacksaw’s eyes lit up. He traced the runes on the hammer with his finger. “That is a grand name! Very grand, indeed!” He stood up and spun it through the air. With awe, he held it up. “Stone Smiter!”

  Nath scooted to the edge of his seat. “I take it you like it.”

  With a hungry glaze over his eyes, Hacksaw said, “Yes. I’m a warrior. What warrior does not adore weaponry, especially with a craft like this. I feel I could crack a giant’s skull like a melon with it.”

  “Yes, well—” Nath started to stand.

  Hacksaw froze. “Easy, Nath. I hope my getting carried away didn’t frighten you.” He handed the hammer back to Nath. “I understand your concern. I didn’t like letting anyone touch Green Tongue either.” He sat back down in his chair. “But you can if you like. Just be careful, you might fall in love with the blade.”

  “Would you trade?”

  Hacksaw let out a hearty laugh. “Oh, I would be tempted, but I wouldn’t want to live without those memories. Many wicked foes fell underneath the wrath of Green Tongue. I killed a wight, goblins, and their commander, as I mentioned. Spilled the blood of gnolls and orcs. I even faced a hill giant, but I wasn’t alone on that one. You should have seen the brute. He had a belly as hard as iron and a slab of muscles up to his ears. I’ll tell you this, we could have used the hammer.”