Claws of the Dragon Read online

  “I don’t care.” She made her way over to an open closet and draped herself in a fine grey traveling cloak. She also took the Elderwood Staff in hand. “Come, Nath. Let’s go.”

  Tension filled the room as the staff’s gem glowed with life.

  Bayzog was on his feet, hand extended toward Sasha. His face was drawn tight. “Sasha, may I please have my staff?”

  She hugged it. “I would like to use it on our journey.”

  Gently, the wizard replied, “I would also like to use it on our journey. May I please have it?”

  “Only if you promise that you’ll teach me to use it.”

  The part-elf crept closer.

  Nath eased out of his seat. The fire growing inside the gem made the scales on his arms tingle.

  Bayzog inched closer to her. “Sasha, do you want to walk or ride? Shall I gather us some horses?”

  Her usually sweet eyes bore into Bayzog with frustration. “Promise me, Bayzog! Promise me!”

  “Sasha, it is elven. You cannot use it,” Bayzog said. “Please, release the staff to me. You could hurt yourself.”

  Her eyes shifted to the radiant power emanating from the gem. “It seems to like me. Its power courses through my veins. Teach me how to use it, Bayzog. Teach me now!”

  The staff’s green glow lit up the entire room. It reflected in Sasha’s eyes. She began to radiate power. Something was about to erupt.

  “Sasha,” Bayzog pleaded with his worried face bathed in green light, “I will teach you what I can. But please, hand it over. You could hurt yourself. Or others.”

  “No. You won’t let me use magic. You want it all for yourself.” She lowered the staff at him.

  Nath stooped, legs ready to spring.

  This is getting bad! Dangerous.

  Bayzog eased ever closer. “Sasha, you must trust me.”

  “No, it’s mine.” She tapped the bottom of the staff on the floor. The entire room shook, sending fine pottery crashing on the floor. Sasha’s eyes widened. “Whoa.” Wild eyed, she brought the staff up and down again.

  Nath sprang. He arrived a split second before Bayzog and wrapped his hands around the staff before it hit the floor. A charge of energy went through him.

  Zap!

  His limbs went numb. As he fell, he saw the horrified look on Sasha’s face. He landed hard. Forcing his eyes open, he saw Bayzog on the floor as well. The half-elf’s eyes were closed. He wasn’t breathing.

  CHAPTER 10

  “I’ll wake him up,” Brenwar roared. He hopped over Nath and landed alongside Bayzog. Using his thick, stubby fingers, he pinched the half-elf’s ginger arm.

  “Ow!” Bayzog screamed. He sat up and found himself face to face with Brenwar. “What did you do that for?”

  “I saved your life.” Brenwar gave him two hard slaps on the back. He helped Bayzog to his feet. “And I’ll never let you forget it.”

  Sasha rushed into Bayzog’s arms. Tears were streaming down her face. Her body was trembling. “I’m sorry, Bayzog. I’m sorry! What is wrong with me? Please tell me what’s wrong with me!”

  “Shhhh.” Bayzog hugged her and gently stroked her hair. “It’s fine. I forgive you.”

  She sobbed. “Something’s wrong. I know it is! Help me.”

  He kissed her cheek and said in her ear, “Let’s rest on this. Accidents happen.” He said something in Elven. Sasha passed out in his arms. Misty-eyed, he carried her off to the bedroom.

  Ben reached down to where Nath lay and put a hand on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

  “Shocked.” Nath flicked the numbness from his fingers and stared at the staff. Its gemstone was now dim. Brenwar was reaching down for it. “I wouldn’t do that. It’s elven. No telling what it would do to a dwarf.”

  “How about I do everyone a favor and take my war hammer and break it?”

  Allowing Ben to help him up to his feet, Nath shook his head. “That was interesting.”

  “That was strange,” said Ben. “What has gotten into Sasha?”

  Nath gave Ben and Brenwar a brief explanation. Just as he finished, Bayzog re-entered the room with a very long look on his face. He picked up the Elderwood Staff. “That was too close.”

  “Too close to what?” Brenwar said.

  “Our deaths.”

  “You were dead. I saved you.”

  “No, I was unconscious.” Bayzog looked at his arm. “But thanks for the bruise.” Holding the staff, he said, “Nath, you know that I can’t take the journey with you.”

  “I never expected that you would.”

  “Listen, before you depart, we need to talk about the titans.” Bayzog rubbed his head.

  “Bayzog, you don’t need to worry about this. You have enough to manage on your own.”

  “It is our burden to share, me and Sasha, husband and wife. We shall manage. And when she wakes up, we’ll have a long and honest talk.” Staff in hand, he took a seat on his stool. “Now, set us aside from your mind. We need to talk about the titans.”

  Nath wanted to press back and tell his friend ‘Not now,’ but he didn’t. He knew Bayzog well enough to know that letting him talk about history would speed up his healing. He took his place at the table.

  Silent, Brenwar and Ben did as well.

  “It’s interesting. There is no mention of the Great Dragon Wall in the histories. The dragons did very well concealing it.” Bayzog scribbled some Elvish notes on some paper. With a bright look in his eye, he said, “I would have loved to have seen that. It’s so fascinating. Perhaps you could draw or paint it for me one day.”

  “Perhaps,” Nath said.

  “Such a great secret, and in Borgash of all places,” the wizard continued. “Well, according to the histories, the titans were worshipped by all. They’d attract throngs of men and women to them. Very charismatic. So, don’t be surprised if it’s not hard to find them. Or at least, find the bodies in which they host. They are arrogant. Proud. Deceitful. They love to boast and have no shame about them whatsoever. But they can take anyone’s form. So, the goal is to trap that spirit. Return it behind the wall at Borgash and secure it. But killing the body is one thing. Trapping the spirit is quite another.”

  “Can the spirit be destroyed?” Nath asked. “I would think to find that easier.”

  “If that were the case, the dragons would have done that already. Unless of course they just haven’t figured out how. But for the time being, we want to trap them. In order to do that, you will need this.” Bayzog flicked his fingers at a book’s pages and said a mystic word. An image of a smooth stone with a pale-pink fire appeared over the table. “A spirit stone.”

  Looking around, Nath said, “Well, I hope you have one squirreled away in here.”

  “Ha!” Bayzog laughed. “No, like the titans, these stones haven’t been seen for centuries. So either you have to find one, or I have to make one.”

  “You can do that?” Ben said.

  Bayzog waved the image away. “I can at least try. But if you want to find one, my guess would be that if the Spirit Stones still exist, they are kept by the dragons.” He looked at Nath. “That’s where your influence comes in.”

  “Let me see if I have this straight. I need to kill all of the wurmers.”

  “Aye,” Brenwar agreed.

  “Seek the aid of my kin and get these Spirit Stones.” He spoke a little more sarcastic as he went.

  “Aye.”

  “Kill the titans’ host bodies.”

  “Aye.”

  “And secure them behind the Great Dragon Wall once and for all.”

  Brenwar continued to agree, “Aye.”

  “Oh, and if I figure out how to kill the spirit, I’ll execute it as well.”

  “Aye!” Brenwar hopped off his stool and was practically frothing at the mouth. “What are we waiting for?”

  “Nath, remember you can’t do it all by yourself,” Bayzog said with a nod.

  “Well, of course not,” he replied. “That’s what I have
Brenwar for.”

  “Aye!”

  CHAPTER 11

  Leaving Bayzog and Sasha wasn’t easy. It was one of the hardest things Nath had ever done. On foot, he led his horse, a fine dapple-grey steed, toward the exit through the outer walls to the north. Brenwar was with him, leading a small chestnut horse, and Ben walked beside him, sending him off. Facing the stiff winds and some spitting rain, Nath swiped the hair from his eyes and took relief in knowing that Bayzog, Sasha, and Ben would at least be safer in the city than with him.

  Ben was seeing him off. “Don’t be so quiet, Dragon. It’s not like you.”

  “Aw, you’re making me feel like an old man,” Nath said, smiling at him.

  The older warrior raised an eyebrow. “Man, you say?”

  “You know what I mean. Sorry, Ben, I’m just worried about Bayzog and Sasha.”

  “I’ll be looking after them as best I can.”

  They made it through the first line of exterior walls that surrounded the city. A group of workers were making repairs on a busted section of wall.

  Brenwar grunted. “I’ve got to get word to Morgdon, keep those walls from being crooked.” He handed Ben a scroll of wax-sealed paper. “This will take care of it.”

  “Oh, yes,” Ben said, taking the scroll, “After all, nothing in this world is straight that isn’t dwarven.”

  “You got that right.”

  Winding through the maze-like formation of walls, they finally emerged. The distant snow-capped mountains of the north lay ahead. Nath wondered if Selene was out there somewhere, and if she was safe.

  “I guess this is it, Ben,” Nath said to his friend. “I’d be lying if I said I was glad to leave you here, albeit in safety.”

  “I can’t say that I blame you. Of course, even a stone is better company than Brenwar.”

  “Don’t you mean a bearded stone?” Nath said.

  “Ha ha!” Ben laughed. “Dragon, you know I’d come, and I wish I could, but I made a promise to someone that I wouldn’t leave them.”

  “Someone who?”

  “I have a new betrothed. Her name is Rebecca.”

  “Ben!” Nath said with excitement. “That’s great. Why didn’t you tell me? I’d like to meet her.”

  “She’s in Narnum now, and her journey doesn’t bring her back until next week.”

  Shaking Ben’s hand, Nath said, “I’m happy for you, Ben. Very happy. It’s not often that a man can find true love. It seems it has struck twice with you. I can tell.”

  “Thank you.” Ben unslung his quiver full of arrows and unsnapped Akron from his back. “Here.”

  “No, Ben, you keep it. You’ll need it to help defend the city.”

  “Dragon, I’ve a feeling that you’ll need it more than me. Besides”—he stuffed the magic bow in Nath’s hand—“it’s always been yours. I was only protecting it while you were gone.”

  “It couldn’t have been in better hands,” Nath said, trying to pull it free of Ben’s grip.

  The older man held it tight. “Sorry, Dragon,” Ben grimaced. He held the bow firm. “Boy, this just isn’t very easy.” He closed his eyes and with a gasp, he released the bow. Opening his eyes, he said, “That really was as hard as I thought it would be.”

  Nath pushed Akron and the quiver back into Ben’s hands. “Farewell, Ben.”

  “I’m going to miss you, Dragon.”

  Nath climbed onto his horse, and Brenwar did the same.

  The dwarf said to Ben, “Well, don’t get all misty for my sake, Ben. Just deliver that letter.”

  Ben slapped Brenwar’s horse on its hindquarters and sent it off in a lurch. “Goodbye, Brenwar!”

  As Nath rode off, the last thing he heard was Ben’s voice, shouting with cheer from the top of the outer wall. “Dragon! Dragon!”

  ***

  It rained the entire day’s ride north. The harder it rained, the louder Brenwar sang. Black beard soaked with water, he sang one ancient dwarven tune after the other. And the songs weren’t too bad either. They lifted Nath’s spirits.

  “You like this, don’t you,” Nath said in a loud voice that carried through the heavy rain.

  The dwarf kept on singing.

  “You know,” Nath started to say, but he stopped.

  No one would hear them coming over the rain. Instead, as the horses clomped through the muddy hillside they climbed, he held his tongue.

  Let Brenwar be happy. He deserves to be.

  Brenwar stopped singing. “What? Did you say something?”

  “I said, do you think you could sing something in Elvish?”

  Brenwar wrung water out of his beard, shook his thick head, and started singing in Dwarven again.

  Nath continued to lead the way over the sloppy hills that met with a forested mountainside. Ducking under heavy branches and weaving through the trees, he searched for shelter. Night would soon fall, and even though neither he nor Brenwar required much rest, getting out of the rain until it passed seemed like a good idea.

  Half a mile up the mountain, he came across a large rocky overhang. Water poured off it like a waterfall. Nath ducked under it and took a breath. The space was big enough for four men and horses. Brenwar followed him in and shook the water from his rain-soaked face. Nath wrung out his long red hair.

  “Why are we stopping?” Brenwar said. “It’s not even dark yet.”

  Nath slid out of his saddle. “I need a moment.”

  “A moment? What’s a moment?”

  Nath flipped open a saddlebag, removed a pair of orange fruits with a stem, and tossed one to Brenwar. The other one he fed to his horse. He scratched behind the horse’s ears. “You’re a fine steed.”

  The dapple-grey horse shook his head and nickered.

  Nath froze. His nostrils widened. Something foul lingered in the air. His hand fell on Fang.

  Eyeing him, Brenwar started to speak.

  Nath put a finger to his lips.

  Brenwar readied his war hammer, Mortuun the Crusher.

  Golden eyes peering into the deep black where the rock jutted from the ground, Nath spied a small cave opening.

  Silvery eyes flashed within. Scales slithered over the wet earth, and the hooded head of a great snake slipped out. It was bigger than Nath, and it reared back to strike. Its black tongue flicked from its mouth.

  “That’s an awfully big snake,” Brenwar grumbled.

  Two more monstrous snakes slithered out and flanked them. Venom dripped from fangs as big and sharp as a dragon’s.

  “Pardon,” Brenwar said, shifting in his saddle, “I meant snakes.”

  CHAPTER 12

  A green lily dragon half filled a wooden cage big enough for a large dog. Its snout was bound shut with leather cords. Its torn wings were folded tight on its back. Its scales shined like green pearls in the moonlight.

  “I say we eat it,” said an orc. He was large, as most orcs are. A tangled mess of greasy hair covered his bare back down to the waist. He poked the dragon with the back of his spear. He licked his split and puffy lips. “I’ve never eaten dragon before. They smell delicious, like baby deer.”

  “Leave our treasure alone,” another voice said. It was a gnoll. A huge wolf-faced man taller but slimmer than the orc. He wasn’t alone. The party of poachers was made up of orcs, gnolls, and the much smaller yellow-eyed goblins. There were nine in all. “Once we sell it, you’ll be able to eat all you want and more.”

  The orc at the dragon cage grumbled in his throat. Sounding a bit stupider than his gnoll counterpart, he scratched his head and added, “Are they worth more alive or dead?”

  “Alive,” the gnoll said, filing his long fingernails with a sharpening stone.

  Unlike the others, the gnoll had more flare on him: shiny breastplate made for a large man, heavy axe on his hip. All of the others—gnoll, orc, and goblin alike—carried spears or smaller weapons.

  “Now get away and don’t pester it anymore.” The gnoll walked over and eyed the dragon. “It may lie quietly
, but don’t let it fool you. It’s thinking, not dreaming.”

  A goblin hopped over the campfire. “Dragons dream?” The filthy humanoid’s necklace of animal bones rattled around his neck. He was feisty, even more so than his ornery kin. “How do you know they dream?”

  “I know,” the gnoll assured him. His chin was up in an attempt to be dignified.

  “You don’t know that,” the goblin retorted. “You’re just saying that. Think you’re smart?”

  The gnoll huffed on his fingernails and dusted them off on his bloodstained sleeve. “Of course I’m smart. That’s why I’m the leader. And was it not my trap that caught the dragon?”

  Fingers fidgeting at his side and glancing around, the goblin said, “It was luck. Strange fortune. You set no trap at all. The dragon was sleeping.” He pounded his chest. “And I saw it first! Told you about it, I did.”

  The gnoll bared his canine teeth in a snarl. His blades whisked out of his sheaths and found a new home under the goblin’s greasy chin. The leader then said to the wide-eyed goblin, “Perhaps you don’t want to share in my good fortune, then. The less of you, the more for me and the rest.”

  Everyone in the poachers’ camp’s eyes were on the gnoll. The two goblins that remained drew the crude hand axes at their sides. Their feverish eyes had murder in them.

  The gnoll pressed his superior blade harder into the goblin’s neck. He marched the little monster backward. “You do realize that if I kill you, I have to kill all of your kind.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I like the nine. Three gnolls. Three orcs. Three goblins. It’s a fortunate number. But minus one goblin, we have eight. Unlucky. Minus two, we have seven. That’s the luck of a human’s number.” He spat. “Bad luck for gnolls. So that means I need six. I like six, but nine is better. Twelve, too big to control.”

  Gaping, the goblin continued to back away until he stopped a couple feet from the hot coals of the fire. Sweat beaded and dropped over the creases of his brow. Stammering and flapping his hand, he said with a crooked smile, “Nine is good. Nine is good. You say dragons dream, I believe it. Dragons dream. Yes. Dragons definitely dream.”