Flight of the Dragon (The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 5 of 10) (Tail of the Dragon) (11 page)

While Tim was turning the wrath horn around for another charge, a huge body collided into him, knocking him from the saddle. He barrel rolled back up to his feet, sword poised to strike or defend against his attacker. His sword, a fine broad blade, didn’t fit in his hand as it usually did. It was awkward but light as a stick. He slashed back and forth.

I can make this work.

He took in a deep breath. His body was alive, more so than it had been in decades. His muscles were strong and powerful.

“Oh, what a body!”

A nuurg fighter wheeled into his path. It held a flail with both its hands and swung it over its head. The steel-spiked ball whistled through the air in wide circles. The nuurg rushed in, bringing the flail head down with wroth force.

Tim caught the chain of the flail around the length of his sword.

The pair of giants stood chest to chest, shoving one another back, snarling and growling.

The nuurg enemy puffed and spun.

Struggling for balance, feet sliding through the dirt, Tim held on for dear life. The monster was strong. Fierce. Its force unrelenting. He’d never faced such power before.

Come on, soldier. You’re as big as him. Act like it.

Hard knuckles punched Tim in the ribs.

He groaned. His body might have been as big or as strong, but he wasn’t used to it. The size was awkward.

The nuurg bent him backward. Its shovel-sized hand fell to a knife inside its belt. It snaked it out and tried to stab Tim.

With combat experience coming back to him, Tim locked his fingers over the monster’s wrist.

The blade edge nicked his flesh.

The old fires of battle within Tim ignited. He rammed his forehead into the nuurg’s nose.

The cartilage gave way.

Crunch.

The nuurg bellowed. Its grip released its flail. It held its nose.

Big mistake.

Tim slung the flail from his sword and closed in, piercing the nuurg right through its heart.

It dropped dead.

He hoisted the sword high. “Victory!”

A nuurg with two eyes close set together rushed into his path with a machete matched to its size and body.

Flashing his sword, Tim said, “Have at me then! I’ve got a body as big as yours, and now I’m used to it!”

His stomach churned.

He belched.

His body collapsed to its normal size.

***

With two colossal bodies piled on top of him, no sword in hand, Nath fought back with the only available weapon he could think of. He bit the one-eyed nuurg in the leg.

With an angry howl, it punched him in the side of the head.

Stars burst forth.

Nath’s teeth clattered.

The one-eyed nuurg grabbed a handful of Nath’s long red hair and jerked Nath up off his feet—and practically out of his boots.

“Now you’ve done it!” Nath said, kicking and flailing. “Nobody touches my hair!” He dug his golden-yellow claws into the flesh of the giant’s hand and raked them down.

One-eye moaned and released him, but Two-eye stabbed at him with a knife made from a solid piece of iron.

Nath sprang from the strike. He jumped at the giant orc and punched it hard in the throat.

Two-eye choked and gurgled, but One-eye charged from behind, swinging its anvil-like fist.

Nath ducked.

The fist collided with the choking nuurg, flopping it to the ground.

Nath unleashed a flurry of punches in One-eye’s heavy gut, hard and fast. The nuurg might have been bigger and heavier than him, but they weren’t any stronger. He was a dragon who just looked like a man. Well, and had to walk like a man rather than fly. He hit as fast as his heart beat.

One-eye crumbled under the assault.

Nath wrenched its arm behind its back and called out, “Brenwar, I need Fang!”

“Hold yer horses! I’m coming!” Brenwar had resumed his normal form.

“Don’t you mean hold your wrath horns?”

Brenwar dashed his war hammer against the head of the nuurg.

Nath punched it in the throat.

Whop!

Brenwar marched over and said, “Hold him still, will you?”

“Are you serious?”

“No.” The dwarf cocked back and smote the wriggling giant in the skull.

Neither giant moved again. The nuurg lay scattered in heaps all over the courtyard.

“Where’s Tim?” Nath said. A scuffle caught his ear.

Tim was pushing himself out from under a nuurg’s big body. With his legs still pinned beneath the giant, he held up his sword and said breathlessly, “Victory.”

Regaining his feet, Nath rolled his sore jaw and combed his fingers through his hair.

Four, five, six, seven …

“We’re missing a nuurg, the sentry with the skulls for a belt.”

Outside the fortress, the shrill sound of a metal whistle ripped through the sky.

Nath rushed out the front gate.

The sentry stood there blowing an iron whistle the size of a curled ram’s horn.

“I’ll stop him!” Brenwar slung Mortuun head first into the nuurg’s chest. Bone cracked. It hit the ground. He ran over and tore the whistle from the wheezing nuurg’s hands. “What is this for?”

With a smile on its crooked lips, the nuurg said, “They come.”

Against the deep blue sky with their black wings, the wurmers came like great bats of the night.

“Incoming, eh? Well, I’m still itching to fight. Let them come. Let them all come.” Brenwar moved away from Nath, twirling Mortuun around his body and yelling into the sky, “I’m right here, insects!”

Timothy lumbered over, shoulders sagging. He had his shoulder in one hand and Fang in the other. Blinking, he looked up in the sky. “It’s like my old soldiering days. Never enough time to catch your breath between the battles.” He took a deep breath. “I can still do this.”

Nath took Fang. “Not with ordinary steel you won’t. They have hides hard as iron, Tim. Get inside with the others and take cover.”

Tim nodded. “If it weren’t coming from you, Dragon Prince, my pride wouldn’t let me retreat, but I’ll follow your order.” He took another look above. The wurmers dove like black lances in the night sky. “Yes sir, I’ll follow your orders.”

Fang warmed in the palm of Nath’s hand. The blade hummed with angry life.

Me and you, Fang. Me and you.

The swarming wurmers closed in. There looked to be ten of them, a hundred yards away. Fifty yards.

Nath and Brenwar cocked back.

Something whistled overhead. With blinding speed, streaks of silver slammed into the oncoming wurmers. It was a collision of scales followed by roars of fury. Dragon fury.

Nath’s heart wanted to burst from his chest.

Silver dragons. Man sized, quick, and powerful. Their claws shredded the wurmers. They clamped onto the insect-dragons. Tore off wings. Locked jaws on necks.

The stunned wurmers shrieked and spun out of control.

Several wurmers hit the ground.

Nath and Brenwar, quick to strike, pounded them with hammer and sword.

Above, the battle raged like fireworks in the sky. Light coursed through the bodies of the silver dragons, shocking the wurmers. The monsters fought back with their hot, glowing breath. Blasts of deep purple erupted from their mouths in balls of energy. The silver dragons slid by the attack, quicker than the wind.

One silver dragon, marvelous from the tip of his nose to the end of his tail, locked up in battle with the biggest wurmer. The dragon’s tail coiled around the wurmer’s neck, and its body charged like living light. Lightning fired from its mouth. The wurmer exploded. Smoldering scales showered the sky. A burnt, crispy smell lingered in the air.

Standing back to back with Brenwar, Nath said, “They’re dead. All of the wurmers are dead.” He blinked. “Those silvers really wiped them out.” A couple more wurmers dropped dead from the sky. “Cloudy with a chance of wurmers.”

The silver dragons circled like a spinning windmill.

Nath waved. “I guess this is the part where they save us and leave us. It would be great if once, just once, they’d stick around long enough for me to thank them.”

“Aye.” Brenwar gave a dwarven salute. He pumped his fist and thumped his chest. “Unlike you, they’re not much for talking.”

Nath eyed him.

Brenwar shrugged.

The circle of dragons broke. In a V formation, wings flapping in unison, they shot off toward the moon. All except for one. He landed, the biggest of the group. The leader. His lean, serpentine body clung low to the ground. His long neck undulated like a fish’s body.

Nath spoke to the silver dragon leader in Dragonese—an ancient language, melodic, a combination of sounds and words. “Thank you, brother.”

The dragon skulked forward. His eyes were bright blue. Penetrating. He had seemed bigger in the sky, but up close, the silver dragon was no bigger than Nath. Coming closer, he reared up onto his hind legs and stood like a man. He crossed his front paws over his armored chest. Holding his chin high, he stood a full head taller than Nath. Then he bowed and said, also in Dragonese, “I might be your brother, but you are my prince.”

Nath’s jaw dropped. He was speechless. He reached out and, with his hand under the dragon’s chin, he lifted his eyes to meet his. “Slivver?”

“At your service,” the dragon said in Common.

Nath hugged his brother.

Slivver hugged him back. It wasn’t an awkward hug by any means, just two brothers embracing after a hard-fought battle. Slivver was all dragon but carried himself, at this moment, like a man.

Breaking the embrace, Nath exclaimed, “I’ve missed you!”

“Of course you have. Everybody has.” Slivver’s sleekness and charm matched the wondrous scales of his body. He held his elbow in one hand and gestured as he spoke with the other. “I have to admit, I’ve missed out on many exciting things.” His ice-blue eyes drifted to Brenwar.

“Where have you been hiding, Slivver?” Brenwar said.

“Well, if it isn’t my old, old friend Brenwar. Old, old, old friend.” Slivver stretched out his arms. “Hugs?”

“Dwarves don’t—”

“I know, I know, dwarves don’t hug.” Slivver laughed, shaking the bearded flap of skin under his chin. “Hugs, thugs. Watch out behind you.”

Nath had completely forgotten about the nuurg sentry blowing the whistle and alerting the wurmers. It rushed the backside of Brenwar.

Without turning, Brenwar socked it in the gut with Mortuun.

“Oooof!” The monster sagged.

Brenwar cranked back for the finishing blow.

“No, wait!” Nath said. “Bind him up. Let’s see what he knows.”

“Still learning mercy, are you?” Slivver said.

“I’ve learned plenty since you’ve been gone.”

“It’s an abomination.”

“I know, but I need information. I need to find Father. He’s gone rogue.”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” Slivver’s long tail swished behind him. “Tell me about it?”

Nath caught Slivver up with how their father Balzurth had healed Sasha of the wizard’s dementia and then disappeared from the Temple of Spires.

Slivver shook his magnificent dragon head. “And ever since, you’ve been trekking the earth by foot and hoof? Why not call for the dragons?”

“I have called. They didn’t answer.”

“Just because they don’t answer doesn’t mean you stop calling.” Slivver chuckled.

“Oh,” Nath said.

Throwing his paw over Nath’s shoulder, Slivver said, “I got here in the nick of time. Now let’s go find Father.”

Selene was back in the bedroom with all the murals. She wasn’t alone. Grahleyna was with her, as was Sansla Libor. The winged white ape stood in front of one of the murals, staring at a distant view of Elome.

“Do you miss being among the roamer elves?” she said.

“I’m the Roamer King. It always hurts to not be among my people.” His ape face was long. “It’s not easy being an outcast, but I’ve learned to accept it.”

“In time, your people will learn to accept you,” Selene said.

“The elves aren’t even accepting of one another at the moment. Their hearts have been twisted.”

Grahleyna sat on the edge of the bed with her head down. She hadn’t said a word in hours. “It’s the titans’ fault,” she said under her breath. “Those evil spirits poison everything. I can only hope my overzealous husband puts an end to this. He went out there because he loves me, perhaps too much, if that’s possible. But he hates Eckubahn even more. I can’t blame him for what he did.” She slapped her knees and stood. Pointing at all the murals, each as real as the next and divided by a network of honeycomb columns, she said, “You need to decide where you want to start.”

“What do you mean?” Selene said.

“I mean, in what part of Nalzambor do you want to begin your search for Nath and Balzurth? It’s not possible for us to fly you out of here, and it isn’t safe to tunnel out.” Grahleyna straightened and fluffed the pillows on the bed. She moved as if her mind was far away. “There is deep magic here. You feel it. With my aid, you can walk through to the place you see in an instant. You won’t be coming back through once you cross, however. It’ll be a one-way trip.”

Selene gazed at all the different mural portals which filled the wondrous room. She could see the village at Dragon Pond. Tiny fisherman, like insects, fished from the piers. In a corner above her head, the orcen city of Thraag loomed. Part of its own mountain and carved from within, Morgdon of the dwarves waited with stark banners whipping stiffly in the wind mounted on enormous poles. Narnum, the Free City, was anything but. It stirred Selene within. She’d done horrible things there. Now it fared even worse than she’d left it. Giants of all the rogue races roamed the streets like men. Soaring wurmers crested the building tops.

“Where the trouble is, Nath will be.” Selene stroked the tip of her tail, which rested over her shoulder. “That’s the spot, but I don’t want to be too close.”

“That’s not a problem. Just think of a spot you’ve been before and go.”

Selene said to Sansla, “Are you coming with me?”

“I gave Nath my word I’d look out for you.”

Selene hugged Grahleyna. “I’ll stay if you wish.”

“I’d like that, but under better circumstances. Now go.”

Heart thumping hard in her chest, Selene grabbed Sansla and stepped into the mural.