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

Balzurth arrived in another part of Nalzambor on his knees, trembling. The amulet had done more than just transport him. It had drained him, somehow. His stomach gurgled and moaned. His limbs were heavy.

Chains rattled on his ankles, wrist, and neck.

How did those get there? Clever.

Balzurth lifted his hands up to his face. His scales were still midnight black, his clawed fingernails still sharp and golden yellow. He tossed his head. The flame-red hair cascaded over his shoulders.

At least my disguise is intact.

He surveyed his surroundings. He was outside in a misty smoke that covered jagged rocks. Colossal stones surrounded him in what looked to be the cold, dead mouth of a volcano. Somehow, sunlight illuminated the vast gap through the dimming gray mist. He rose to his feet and walked.

The heavy chains scraped over the stone. The iron of the chains was dense, the kind fashioned by men with a heavy ore mined by the dwarves in Morgdon.

It seems Eckubahn isn’t going to take any chances with me. Or Nath, rather.

Balzurth walked outward until the chains brought him to a stop. He stretched them to their limit, about twenty feet, where they hung suspended, secured by the other end to a metal ring big enough to go around a horse’s neck. It was mounted to a huge slab of square-cut stone at least ten feet tall and just as wide. He strained his arms and legs against his metal bonds. They held fast, like extensions of the world itself. He backed up, letting the links go slack. “Huh.”

Accompanied by the wind whistling through the cracks in the stone mountain that was now his prison, he sat down. Crossing his legs, he lowered his chin onto his fist and waited. Balzurth’s plan hadn’t turned out the way he had hoped. He’d figured on landing right before the king of the titans, Eckubahn himself. From there he’d meant to take it right to him. A full onslaught. One swift stroke. He wanted to end it quick in a final stand. One last battle. But it hadn’t happened the way he’d envisioned it. And that was a problem.

Now time has become my enemy.

With his clawed finger, he etched some patterns in the dirt and began to hum. His rich sound filled the expansive chamber. His thoughts landed on his son Nath. He was proud of Nath, what he’d done, how he’d overcome his trials and stayed faithful to the right cause. It hadn’t worked out that way with his other children. But Nath was special, and no doubt his youngest son would be trying to find him. Balzurth just hoped to end this war before his son arrived in the thick of it. Now was the time to save lives and put a stop to Eckubahn and his mad reign.

I should have destroyed that titan when I had the chance. Let evil live and all it does is thrive.

He eyed his claws.

Next time I’ll put it out of our misery forever.

Balzurth was still humming when a scuffle stirred the rocks. His keen dragon sight pierced the wavering mist. As he scanned the rock walls, the shapes of men formed in his eyes. These weren’t average men but the larger sort: giants. Their huge frames eased between the rocks as they moved. Given the mist, the average person wouldn’t detect them, but Balzurth could see all sorts. Mighty limbs came to life on legs of iron. They were fifteen feet tall and shaggy headed. Their noses were broad and flat.

And then their moans and huffs echoed through the strange canyon. On giant feet, they came forward, shaking the ground and surrounding Balzurth.

“I was wondering where the smell came from,” said Balzurth in the guise and style of Nath as he counted their faces. There were fifteen of the monstrous men. They were bestial and savage, yet there was cunning in their beady eyes. Cruelty. “You know, Nalzambor is full of lakes you could bathe in. The fish might not like it—actually, they wouldn’t like it—but the deep waters are said to take the stench out of anything. I know a great place I’d be happy to show you. It’s just below—”

A powerful, echoing voice split the air.

“SILENCE!”

A giant emerged from the ranks. He was a head taller than the rest, more man than monster, with a green fire in his eyes. He was adorned in dragon skins hung like armor over his brawny shoulders and part of his chest. Bones rattled on his neck. Dragon bones and teeth. A belt fashioned from the same white bones hung from his waist. His head was mostly bald, and what hair he did have formed a long ponytail.

Balzurth rose with fire in his eyes. His heart thundered behind his breast. The atrocity enraged him. Many dragons had died to make this arrangement. Good ones. Blues, greens, and even a gold. It was just like the horrifying message the giants had sent to Dragon Home. A dragon’s corpse. Broken. Mangled. Balzurth strained against the chains. “Who are you that defiles my kindred?”

“I am the spirit Isobahn, brethren of Eckubahn, the king.” He stomped the ground.

Thoom!

Balzurth lost his footing and dropped to his knees.

“You will bow in my presence.”

As much as he abhorred to do so, Balzurth fought back his commanding voice, popped up again, and continued in Nath’s voice with a defiant tone. “I will not!”

Isobahn nodded his tremendous square-cut chin.

The other giants converged on Balzurth. Taking turns, they swatted, punched, stomped, and shoved him between their ranks. The blows were hard and heavy. The giants giggled like maniacal children. They tugged at his chains. Jerked him off his feet, dangled him, and patted at him like cats playing with a ball of string.

It was futile, but he fought back as best he could in Nath’s form and chained. “You’ll pay for this!” Balzurth yelled. Shaking his fist, he yelled even louder. “You’ll all pay!”

By the chains, a giant swung him hard into the stone to which he was tethered.

Wham!

Balzurth absorbed all of the punishment he could endure. He couldn’t break his cover. He just hoped his body could hold up, but his magic hadn’t ever been drained before, so he didn’t know how long he would need to rest before enough magic came back for him to change into his dragon form.

It could take years. Years of sleep! Let’s hope not.

He took several more lumps.

Now I know how Nath must feel.

The beating continued until all of his physical strength faded. It stopped when he was face down and bleeding in the dirt. Two of the giants unhooked his chains from the stone pillar. By the chains still linked to his body, they dragged him over the hard ground through a slit in the rocks into the darkness.

Scraping along, he regained his feet—only to be jerked down again. It was futile. Miserable. They strung him along, and he had no idea where he was going.

“Can you move any faster?” Rerry said, looking over his shoulder at his brother. “A one-legged orc could pass you!”

Samaz hobbled up the path. They’d managed to make their escape from the dungeon hours ago, but his legs were like noodles. “I’m pacing myself.”

“Ah, pacing yourself. Makes perfect sense for a pair of men trying to escape.” Rerry pushed some low-hanging branches aside and waited for his brother.

Samaz ambled up the incline.

Rerry let loose the branch, which slapped his brother in the face. “And let’s hope our pursuers are pacing themselves as well.”

Samaz slunk under the branches. “You have such an annoying way with things.” He laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“I don’t know, you just look funny with a metal almond on your head.” Samaz peeled off his own elven helmet and chucked it aside. “I can only imagine how silly I must look.”

“You always look silly.” Rerry picked Samaz’s helmet up. “Now put this back on. We need to blend in, just in case we run into anybody. Now you blend, you bulging misfit.”

With a huff, Samaz took the helmet, but he didn’t put it back on. “I’ll carry it for now.”

Mocking him, Rerry said, “I’ll carry it for now.”

For some reason, the banter that had gone on and on between them since birth lightened Samaz’s spirits. Some strength returned, and he pressed on, keeping pace while his brother navigated the woodland like one of the forest’s own creatures.

Ahead, Rerry was a strapping figure of grace and warriorhood. Adorned in the elven armor with his light hair spilling out from under his helmet, Rerry carried the look of a soldier quite well. Light footed, he moved on top of the stumps, fallen trees, and flat rocks, careful to avoid leaving any kind of trail.

In truth, neither of them had much experience in the woodland, but it came naturally to them, unlike it did to their father, Bayzog. And they had less elf in them than their father did, which was odd.

“What do you make of Captain Scar imprisoning us? Or any of the elves doing so? They swarmed us. They threw us in a dungeon.” Rerry adjusted his helmet. “It’s so hard to get used to this thing. As I was saying, what do you make of that? Elves aren’t supposed to imprison elves.”

Samaz hopped from one rotting log to another. “I don’t think they took us in because we’re elves but because we are part-elves. But I was sick when you did most of the parlaying, remember?”

Rerry led them down into a ravine, where a stream trickled by. He scooped up a handful of water and slurped it down. He wetted his face. “Everything was fine until you mentioned Father’s name,” he said.

“Me?” Samaz straddled the stream and sloshed some water on his own face then drank. “You’re the one who said ‘Bayzog,’ not me. I tugged the back of your shirt, but you didn’t listen. Those gums kept flapping.”

“They asked. What was I supposed to say? I thought it would be a good thing, seeing how Father is known as a hero in this realm. Instead, we received a throttling and days in the clink. What kind of elves treat other elves so poorly?” He plucked a stone out of the water and chucked it down the stream. It skipped once and splashed to a stop. “It was as if they were looking for him.”

“We aren’t full bloods. That’s problem one. Father lives outside the elven lands. That’s number two. Nalzambor is under duress. That’s number three.”

“Oh, enough with your numbers. The world’s a mess. I get it.” Rerry unsheathed his sword and cut through some of the reeds growing along the bank. “But as long as I have a fine piece of steel, I can handle it.” He eyed Samaz. “Seriously, when are you going to master some sort of weapon?”

Samaz poked his temple. “As long as I have a sound mind matched by my quick feet and hands, I’m never defenseless.”

Rerry rolled his eyes. “That’s so encouraging.”

At the top of the ravine rim came a sound of branches cracking, followed by heavy footsteps. Something or someone was up there. It was big and not ordinary big but beyond. It dragged something through the brush.

Rerry’s eyes met Samaz’s. Both of his thin blond eyebrows perched. With a nod, he darted after the sound.

Samaz ran after him, bounding from one side of the stream to the other and racing up the hillside. Rerry was climbing over the rocks, still focused on not leaving a trail. One thing was certain: the trail of whatever was up there couldn’t be missed. He crested the top alongside his brother. The soft-footed brothers edged into the foliage until they came across a path of crushed and snapped saplings.

Rerry kneeled down inside a footprint as big as him. He crinkled his nose. In a whisper, he said, “It smells awful.” He flashed a row of white teeth. “I bet it’s a giant.”

“There’s no need to pursue it,” Samaz warned. He bent over and picked up some animal hair grafted to the bark of a tree. “It feeds, whatever it is. Leave it be. Pursuit will only draw its attention.”

“I won’t bother it.” Rerry crept forward.

Samaz followed. There wasn’t much of a choice in the matter. Rerry wouldn’t listen. They’d just have to resume their quest to find the Ocular of Orray and help their mother later.

Rerry came to a stop. He turned to face Samaz with his blue eyes the size of the moon. He pointed.

Samaz came alongside his brother and stared along the path Rerry indicated.

There it was sitting on the ground, a giant. Sitting, it was still much taller than them. The expanse of its back was just as wide too. Coarse brown hairs like fur covered the giant up to its neck. The head was bald, knotted, and scarred. It was eating. Samaz moved closer and watched from another angle. It was eating a bear. Its jaw moved up and down, making a horrible crunching sound that threatened to turn Samaz’s bones to jelly. “Let’s get out of here,” he mouthed to his brother.

Rerry nodded and backed away.

But the giant took in a deep draw of air through its nostrils. It sounded as if it was going to inhale the entire forest. Its bullish neck snapped around. Mouth still full of bear, the giant locked its eyes on them. Nostrils flaring, it licked its lips and got to its feet.

“Samaz, it’s got horns. Horns on its head. I didn’t think giants had horns. Why would they need horns on their heads?” Rerry finished with his jaw hanging.

Samaz watched the giant rise to its full height. It did have horns, like a ram’s, on either side of its forehead. Its face was ugly, almost like a beast’s, but more like a wild man’s.

The giant smacked its lips and, with a bellow, filled the forest as it came right at them.