Fight And The Fury (Book 8) Read online

  He looked at Brenwar and Ben. “It’s been a long time since I’ve been home. I’ll probably start there.”

  CHAPTER 23

  “She’s persistent. I’ll say that,” Pilpin said to Devliik. The dwarves of Morgdon had kept their distance from Faylan the satyr and the Barnabus soldiers for the past several days. Pilpin wanted the falling of Faylan’s brother and the draykis to soak in. To let the little horned murderer feel their pain. “But I’m not sure there will be justice for this one, aside from that which comes from death.”

  “Agreed,” Devliik said, sharpening his axe with a stone. “But the time has come to end this.” He dropped the stone, stood up, and sauntered into the trees.

  The rest of the dwarves were spread out in the camp, sharpening weapons, feeding themselves, and stitching up each other’s wounds. Devliik had marched them nonstop for two days, winding through mountains and valleys, looking for something that he did not name.

  Pilpin stretched his limbs and clawed at his beard. He wondered how the others were doing. Brenwar. Nath. And most of all, Gorlee. Wherever he went is where we should be headed. But that could be anywhere.

  The dwarf called Wood Helm signaled to him.

  “I suppose it’s time to go,” he said, gathering his gear. “On we march. On we march. On we march. Ho! Ho! Ho!”

  In less than a minute, they were off.

  Hours into the trek, the party of dwarves stopped on the bank of a stream that raced between the hills. A dragon’s roar sounded from above. Every thick neck bent up towards the sky.

  “Fill yer flasks,” Devliik said, peering through the trees. “And get moving.”

  A dark shadow darted through the clouds. Pilpin swore it had a bronze glimmer to it.

  “It’s not looking for us,” Wood Helm said, “but if it does come looking, I’ve got something for it.” He shook his axe. “I’ll scale it like a flying fish, I will.”

  Pilpin slapped him on the back and said, “You and I both will. And they say dragon skin makes for excellent armor.”

  “Only one way to find out,” Wood Helm joked.

  They filled their flasks, splashed through the stream, and up another hillside they went. Devliik’s path was difficult, but not impossible for an army to follow. And the dwarves were taking turns scouting the rear and making sure they were still being followed. As of yesterday, there were signs that Faylan’s army had slowed or backed. If anything, they came after the dwarves more determined than ever.

  Huffing it up the slopes, Pilpin wondered if there wasn’t a better way to take Faylan out. They’d managed to trick her brother, Finlin, and the draykis and defeat them, so he thought there might be a better way to get at her. But Devliik seemed to be determined to try and set another trap, similar to the last. Pilpin was certain that she’d be too sharp for that.

  We should just stage one grand ambush and end her.

  He had shared those thoughts with Devliik, but the brown-bearded warrior shook his chin at him. “When the terrain favors us, we’ll get them,” he’d said. “Just keep those legs churning. We’ll march ‘em until their legs fall off.”

  Pilpin obeyed. They all did. Stalwart. Unceasing. They’d bring Faylan to justice, but it would take more patience this time.

  ***

  “Report!” Faylan said to one of her scouts. She stood on the edge of a stream. She and her army had been pushing through the brush for days, a tiresome task through rough terrain, and a handful of her soldiers had fallen.

  A half-orc man in a buckskin vest and boots with a belt decorated in knives saluted.

  “We gain,” he said, wiping the greasy hair from his eyes. “In a week, we’ll catch them.” He patted a knife on his belt. “Shorten their beards, we will.”

  Faylan cocked an eyebrow.

  “Did I ask for your commentary, orc?”

  “No,” the half orc said with a bow of his head, “apologies, Commander.”

  “Continue your charge and be away with you.” She shooed him with her hand. “And never try to amuse me with your jests.”

  The half orc saluted and darted into the woods. Her soldiers, less than a hundred now, lined the stream, filling flasks and skins. Even in their heavy armor, they had moved well, but not well enough. Alone, she would have caught up with the dwarves within a day. This course simply took too long. She wanted vengeance, and she wanted it now.

  “Azklan,” she said, rubbing a jaxite amulet the winged draykis had given her. “Come. Come to me.” The stone’s inner fires came to life, tingling the fingers on her hand. “Azklan, the time has come.”

  A dragon-shaped shadow dropped out of the clouds that filled the valley and splashed into the stream, crushing two soldiers. The armored warriors scrambled up the banks, but no farther. The bronze dragon paid them no notice. Eyes focused on the amulet Faylan wore, it dragged its massive body though the waters until its head, crowned in horns, stopped just a few feet from her face.

  Faylan’s heart raced. Her grubby fingers clutched the amulet. She swallowed, stepped forward, and placed her hand on Azklan’s snout. The scales were cool, its breath hot. Everything about it was magnificent.

  “I want to see the dwarves die,” she said. “I want to see it with my own eyes.”

  Azklan lowered his neck. She sensed his thoughts saying, “Climb on then.”

  She stepped on his shoulder, climbed up, straddled his neck, and grabbed the harness configured around him. She yelled out to her soldiers and pointed up the mountains, “Meet us at the top.”

  The bronze beast dashed down the stream, spread his wings, jumped up, and took off. Into the clouds she went, screaming with joy, soaring in circles. Her face lit up with an exhilaration the likes of which she’d never experienced before. She felt awesome. She felt invincible.

  “I see them,” Azklan told her.

  Her windblown face made a fierce grin.

  “It’s time to kill them and avenge my brother.”

  Folding back his wings, Azklan, a bronze bolt, a nightmare in the skies, crashed through the trees and landed in the midst of the dwarves. Fire, smoke and death erupted from his visage.

  ***

  Never surprise a dwarf if you don’t want your skull cracked.

  The saying was ancient. A warning to dwarven enemies. If you surprise them, then you had better kill them, else they unleash their wrath on you.

  But that saying was made for orcs, lizardmen, gnolls, and bugbears. Not full-grown dragons.

  Trees splintered, and the mountain shook when Faylan and the dragon dropped from the sky. Pilpin didn’t see it coming. None of them did. Head down on the trails, Wood Helm died first, smashed by the dragon’s scaled belly.

  Flames roared from the dragon’s mouth, setting two dwarves on fire. The flaming dwarves charged with their axes before they fell. A spiked tail lashed out and skewered the fourth dwarf though his armor. Another strike sent the fifth dwarf through tree branches and out of sight.

  Pilpin could see the satyr on the dragon’s neck. Screaming. Gloating. Pointing.

  Dwarves drove their weapons into the beast. The dragon swept them aside with its tail.

  Blood spilled.

  Wood burned.

  No one screamed except the satyr. In elation.

  “Kill them! Kill them all!”

  The bronze dragon loosed death upon them. No dwarf fled. They stood their ground and battled. Dwarven steel versus dragon scales. The hearty fighters were no match.

  Pilpin slung his axe with all his force. It glanced off the dragon’s eyelid.

  The dragon’s head snaked around, tongue licking out.

  “Save that one!” Faylan yelled. “I want to kill the little one that taunted me myself!”

  In one swipe, the dragon scooped Pilpin up and caged him with his claws. It fought on. Dwarves struck. Dwarves fell. Fire raged from the dragon’s mouth with raw heat.

  Pilpin’s eyes stung and burned. Flames roared all around him. But nothing else. The battle cries
of the dwarves were no more.

  No!

  Pilpin thrashed in his prison, to no avail.

  The dragon held him in front of the satyr Faylan. She stood on the dragon’s neck with her arms spread out, triumphant. A dagger glistened in her palm. She advanced with murder in her eyes.

  “This is for you, little one!”

  Behind her, a figure appeared. His beard smoked, and his armor was burning.

  Pilpin’s eyes widened. Devliik!

  Faylan halted her advance and turned.

  Devliik smote her right between the horns.

  Chok!

  The dagger fell from her grasp as she tumbled off the dragon’s neck.

  Devliik!

  The brown-bearded dwarf came at the dragon in a rush and struck between its claws. It let out a belly-full of fire and loosened its grip on Pilpin. Devliik snatched him by the neck and said, “Live to tell our tale! We have avenged!” He shoved Pilpin away, latched onto the dragon’s horns, and started chopping at its head.

  Shaking with fury, the dragon spread its wings and leapt into the sky with Devliik still attached. It thrashed in the air until it vanished in the smoke and flames.

  “I will, Devliik. I will,” Pilpin said, stumbling among the dead. He came across Faylan. Her face was as cruel in death as it had been in life. He took the amulet from her neck and dragged her corpse into the flames of the forest.

  “It’s better than what you deserve.”

  Over the next half day, he collected his brethren’s trinkets and built a pyre beneath their bodies. He said words, ancient and meaningful.

  And then alone, Pilpin headed down the other side of the hill.

  CHAPTER 24

  Narnum. The Free City. There was a time when Nath hadn’t thought he’d see it again. Its great towers. Its wondrous sights. Now, he stood on the balcony of its tallest tower, overlooking everything, particularly the people of all the races that roamed the streets.

  It was different now. All the races thrived, to include the likes of orcs, lizardmen and goblins. There were soldiers too. Thousands of them scattered on the streets and even more in camps set along the rivers. And there were dragons. Dozens perched on rooftops and others gliding through the sky.

  Narnum had changed. It was no longer the Free City, rather the City of Fear. He could feel it. See it on the citizens’ faces.

  I have to do something about this.

  He turned away and faced the chamber within.

  Selene sat on her throne, her piercing eyes fixed on him. Even as beautiful as she was, it was unsettling. He’d been forced to trust a woman permeated in evil. On the arm of her chair squawked a drulture, a creature with colorful scale-like feathers.

  Nath wanted to choke the strange bird. He had never liked them. They were carnivorous spies and tattle tales.

  Your time with come.

  At the foot of Selene’s dais lay the feline fury. A quiet rumble roused inside its belly. Its feline eyes watched Nath’s every movement.

  Nath’s paw fell to his naked hip, where Fang once hung. I hope he is taken care of.

  “Are you alright, Nath?” Selene said. Her voice echoed. The chamber felt lifeless. Empty.

  He folded his arms behind his back. It had been over a week since he arrived, and he’d done absolutely nothing.

  “Is this the plan?” Nath said. “I stare out from this balcony for the next five years and then you let me go?”

  “Those were our terms, more or less.”

  Your terms. Like a fool, I countered with nothing other than my friends’ lives, and I still have no idea if they live.

  “You said there would be peace,” he said. “How can I know there is peace from this tower? For all I know, the entire world burns, aside from this city.”

  A chilling smile stretched over Selene’s lips before she said, “Barnabus’s forces are at rest. I assure you.”

  “I’d rather see that for myself,” he said, easing his way inside her chamber. Everything was exquisite—the tables, the chairs, the food on the table—but lifeless.

  “That would be a vast undertaking.”

  “I have plenty of time on my hands,” he said, picking a grape from the table.

  The drulture squawked.

  “That’s an annoying pet you have.” He crushed the grape and flicked it away. “Can I kill it?”

  “Absolutely not,” Selene said. “Not my dear baby.” She stroked its back and pecked its beak with a kiss. “It’s one of the family. A brother.”

  “A rodent. A rat with wings.”

  The drulture’s wings fluttered. Squawk!

  Nath paced around the table, whistling a dwarfish tune. It was an inspiring melody they whistled when marching into war. He kept at it over an hour.

  Selene sunk into her throne.

  “Will you stop that?”

  He kept whistling, another fifteen minutes more this time.

  Selene’s nails dug into the arms of her chair.

  “Stop it!”

  Nath’s golden eyes brightened. He paused, touching his chest, saying, “I’m sorry. Did you say something? I couldn’t hear over all that whistling.” He cocked his head. “Ah, it seems to be gone now.” He walked behind the feline fury and stepped on its tail.

  It jumped up, whirled, and roared.

  “Heel!” Selene commanded in another tongue.

  The cat-like dragon’s ears bent back. Its lips curled over its fangs.

  Nath glared right back in its eyes.

  “You are a child!” Selene said.

  “You are treating me as such, sticking me in here with all of your animals.” He folded his arms over his deep chest. “How long do you think I can be kept like this?”

  “There are worse places you can be put,” she said. “And I’d be more than happy to shackle those limbs of yours.”

  “No one will be shackling me, now or ever, Selene. Try it, and I’ll destroy this tower and your brood in it.” His chest heaved. “Do we have an understanding?”

  She rose from her throne.

  “You think you can test me?”

  “I say the same to you.”

  Her eyes flashed, and down the steps she came. Standing toe to toe with him, she looked him in the eye and said, “You have much to learn, young dragon. Much to learn about the error of your ways.”

  “Go on,” Nath said, “I’m listening.”

  She put her hand on his chest and said, “You’re all brawn and mouth. You need refining. Composure.”

  “Most women like my composure.”

  Selene smiled.

  “Do they now?”

  “Ask any of th—”

  Her hand exploded with power.

  He flew across the room and smashed into the wall. Nath jumped up, woozy, holding his burning chest. And fell down again.

  Sultans of Sulfur! I’ve never felt anything like that.

  Shaking the debris from his hair, he noticed Selene standing over him. Her eyes and hands crackled with bright energy.

  “That is power, little dragon. That is composure. Focus. Everything you lack.”

  Grimacing, Nath rose to one knee and said, “You are a wizard.”

  “No, I am a dragon.” Her tail swished over the tiles and lifted up his chin. “A creature of magic. You are as well.” She chuckled. “Your father didn’t teach you anything at all, did he?”

  “He taught me plenty.”

  “Hah. He gave you a sword. And a dwarf holding a leash around your neck. He told you to stay out of trouble.” Her tail stroked his hair. “Precious time wasted. What I just did to you, you should be able to do to me by now. Gorn Grattack taught me. Why didn’t your father teach you?” She turned and resumed her seat on the throne, blowing the mystic fires from her hand. Her glowing eyes returned to normal. “My, that felt good.”

  Quietly, Nath resumed his place on the balcony, thoughts confused and racing.

  CHAPTER 25

  A week became two. Two became four.
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br />   Nath and Selene sat and ate at the table. No drulture. No feline fury. No draykis nor guards. Just the two of them. Alone.

  The High Priestess of Barnabus carved the roast on her plate and stabbed it on her fork.

  “It smells delicious, doesn’t it?” she said, taking a bite, then washing it down with her wine. “You should try it. Eat. Keep your strength up.”

  Nath stared at the plate of food, the steaming aroma drifting into his nostrils. His stomach rumbled.

  “My,” Selene said, “was that you? You have to eat, Nath. You don’t look well. And that’s not your style, is it?” She dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. “I never would have imagined you could be silent so long. A cathedral mouse makes more noise with cats around.” She sighed. “Oh Nath, would you speak. Have I wounded your pride? Hurt your feelings? Does it bother you to know that I am your superior?”

  Nath’s claws stretched out.

  “Or rather, that you are my inferior?” she added.

  He could feel her eyes on him and retracted his claws. Over the past month, he had not said a word. Not since she loosed her powers on him. It shook him, to be up against powers he did not understand. Words he could not comprehend. He had to believe it was all lies, but it sounded so convincing.

  And sometimes the best strategy was to say nothing, do nothing, don’t engage at all. Let your enemies reveal themselves. In vain, he struggled with his curiosity.

  He pushed himself back from the table, headed for the balcony and into the rain. It had been raining on and off all week. Flash storms. Gusty winds. The weather kept him inside more, when he’d rather be out. He clutched at his side. The shard still dug in from time to time.

  “What is that?” Selene said, walking up beside him. “I see you digging at it.”

  He didn’t respond. He kept his eyes fixed on the flashes in the distance.

  “Is it a wound? I can fix that. I am a priestess.” She reached over and touched the vest he’d been given. “Look at me.”