Flight of the Dragon (The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 5 of 10) (Tail of the Dragon) (9 page)

It was a heated spar. Rerry attacked, blocked, shifted, and foot shuffled. Sweat dripped down his face and stung his eyes. He labored for breath.

“Chin up! Shoulders back! Eyes on me!” Scar the master swordsman picked his way through Rerry’s defense and tore the longsword from the part-elf’s hands. He put his blade right at Rerry’s throat. “I thought you said you were good.”

With the blade nicking his skin, Rerry lifted his chin high. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

“I can’t help but say I’m shocked you made it this far in your journey.” Scar backed away. “You aren’t horrible. You have the same skill level as many of my students. Given a hundred years of practice, you might be half as good as me. Oh, but you won’t live that long, will you. As a matter of fact, you might not even live through the day. You’re bleeding everywhere.”

Rerry touched his neck. Blood smeared his fingers, making things look worse than they were. But his forearm was pretty bad and needed treatment. Shoulders drooping, he bent over and picked up his sword.

Everyone has a weakness, Rerry. Find his.

“Oh, so you don’t want to surrender. I almost admire that.” Scar twisted his torso from side to side and made a couple of thigh lunges. “I think I’m now warmed up. Let’s let the new lesson begin.”

I’m not bad. I’m not bad.

Rerry had always been confident that he was a fine swordsman. He’d been practicing since he was old enough to hold a blade. But Scar was hundreds of years old. His sword arm was like a living piece of iron. Rerry had never encountered anyone so masterful.

But he had to beat the master or be imprisoned, and deep inside him there was fear. He might not see his mother again. He might not see anyone again. He pulled his shoulders back, set his stance, and caught his breath. “This time, you attack me.”

Scar almost smiled. A deadly delight showed in his good eye. “So, you want to test your defense. So be it then.” Scar shuffle stepped but then stopped.

Samaz appeared out of the woods. He had both of the elven guards who had escaped slung over his brawny shoulders. The elves were out cold.

“What is this?” Scar was gaping. He shifted his focus onto Samaz.

Rerry couldn’t believe his eyes. Somehow, his weak brother had impossibly managed to roust out two formidable elves on his own. He made a silly smile. “By the trees, Samaz, how did you pull that off?”

Samaz set the unconscious elves down. “I have skills.”

“Clearly you have more than your brother.” Scar’s eyes slid back and forth between the two. “Don’t get any clever ideas. Both of you are still my prisoners. Alive, barely alive, or dead, I’ll have you both.” He gave Samaz a once over. “Back away, rotund one. Your brother and I have business.”

Hands on his knees, Samaz asked, “What sort of business?”

“Assuming he doesn’t bleed to death first, after I beat him into submission, he’s going to surrender.”

Samaz wrinkled his brow and looked to Rerry, “Is this true?”

With a little shrug, Rerry said, “I don’t have much of a choice.”

Watching the blood drip from Rerry’s arm, Samaz said, “You can beat him.” He sat down on the ground and crossed his legs. With a nod at Scar, he said, “Do it, Rerry.”

“Your brother believes in you. Both of you are lacking in judgment. So, shall we resume the bout?”

With a nod, Rerry readied his stance again. “Come on, Scar. Attack me.”

Scar didn’t hesitate. He jabbed right at Rerry. The tip of his blade was on a course to impale Rerry’s eyeball.

Rerry’s instinct, more than skill, deflected the blow. For the next several seconds, he fought for his life.

Scar came at him, hard and fast.

If the elven guard was holding back, Rerry couldn’t tell. Every blow he parried was a finger’s breadth from cutting him open. He must have beaten ten solid whacks off with his own blade. His arm was like lead.

Though in actuality smaller, Scar’s tireless arm was as strong as a warrior’s twice his own size, and the elf’s rapier struck quickly but heavily.

Rerry’s lungs soon burned again.

“I admit, your defense is much better than your offense. Good for you.” Scar broke off his attack and took a breath. “Whew. I’m actually enjoying this. It’s been a while since I had a half-decent workout.”

Rerry wanted to reply but didn’t have the breath in him. He actually did feel a little good about himself. He was learning from Scar. He could now anticipate the elven guard’s attacks. A dip in the shoulder. A shuffle to the side. A twist in the neck. All of them were signs of the next attack. The problem was, he didn’t have any energy left to keep up. He looked at his forearm. His sleeve was blood soaked and still dripping. Nearby, his brother sat on the ground with his eyes closed, head lifted toward the sky. He looked so peaceful.

Samaz,
you are so strange!

“So, are you going to surrender now, or do you want to see if you have a few decent strokes left in you?” Scar swished his rapier through the air. “I can do this until the rooster crows.”

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves and cooling Rerry’s body. It somehow rejuvenated him. He received a charge of power he didn’t understand. His heavy breathing eased. Strength returned to his weary arms. His blood coursed through his body.

I feel wonderful!

Rerry’s thoughts were clear. He focused on Scar, and with a wave of his fingers, he beckoned the soldier forward.

“It seems someone has gotten a second wind. Well, it won’t last long.” Scar attacked.

Steel collided with steel. The fine elven blades danced like metal snakes.

Scar attacked. Rerry parried. The exchanges went back and forth for a few more seconds.

And then without warning, Rerry counterattacked. He deflected Scar’s attack and twisted his sword down and under Scar’s defenses and cut through the chest of the soldier’s black leather armor.

Scar gasped.

Rerry pressed the attack.

Now Scar was on the defensive. His face became a mask of concentration. Brows buckled, Scar said, “Impossible!”

Rerry used his heavier sword and bigger body to his advantage. He beat Scar’s sword down.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Scar counterattacked.

Rerry swatted it aside. He attacked.

Scar retreated.

Rerry wasn’t sure what was going on. He could anticipate Scar’s moves before they happened. And his strength and skill had increased. It was as if something else, something vaguely familiar, had become a part of him. A presence. He went with it. Seeing an opening, he cut Scar across the shoulder, drawing blood. “That’s one!”

Scar let out a howl.

Rerry cut the elf’s thigh. “That’s two!”

Scar took his sword in two hands and said, “You are not going to beat me!” He attacked in an unorthodox style, chopping at Rerry like a woodsman cuts a tree—only with ferocity. “I’m going to kill you!”

Rerry saw blood in Scar’s eye. The elven soldier meant it, but Rerry caught every stinging blow on his blade, shrugging aside the jarring impact.

Scar didn’t let up.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

Anticipating the next move, Rerry jumped aside.

Scar’s sword bit into the ground.

With Scar overextended, Rerry smacked him hard with the flat of his sword.

Sprawled out on the ground, Scar twisted around only to find Rerry’s sword at his throat.

Rerry nicked the elf’s neck. “That’s three.”

Chest heaving and with an eye of contempt, Scar said in a voice full of denial, “I don’t know how you did what you did, but this is not over.”

“You gave your word,” Rerry said, poking Scar in the chest with his sword. “Are you taking it back?”

With a sneer, Scar said, “No.”

“Good.” Rerry’s boundless strength fled his body. The world spun. He was falling without control, and the day turned into night.

They came, stark against the night. The nuurg. The pair of monstrous humanoids rode on the backs of the colossal horses called wrath horns. Rain splashed off of them, splattering the muddy streets. Their spiked hooves made huge puddles. They trotted into town, stopping in the middle of the main road. Behind them was Malden. The man seemed insignificant among the towering ten-foot-tall monsters. Malden spoke, gestured, and pointed.

Nath could hear door bolts sliding shut. Shutters closing. The light of oil lamps dimmed, and many were extinguished. Fear was in the air, heavy as the rain. The mood of the tiny town was brooding.

The presence of evil had taken over.

The nuurg resumed their advance. They were covered from head to toe in heavy armor. One carried a spear longer than a man was tall. The other nuurg had a spiked flail far too big for an ordinary man to wield. Their faces were ugly, like those of orcs or ogres. One was a cyclops, and the other, with the flail, seemed more man than orc.

Malden led them down the street and pointed down the alley where he’d sent Nath and Brenwar earlier.

The nuurg paid him no mind. With awful nickers, the wrath horns, shaking the tusks on their faces, snorted and veered toward the alley.

Nath’s blood stirred. He stepped from the shadows into the rain-soaked street and called out, “Pardon me! But I think I can save you some time. I’m the one you’re looking for!”

Malden’s jaw hit the saddle. Visibly gathering his thoughts, he pointed, saying, “That’s him! That’s him! That’s the stranger I told you about!”

The nuurg pulled back on their reins and backed up. Facing Nath, they spread apart and continued their advance.

Out of the night from the backside of the nuurg, Brenwar bellowed out, “And don’t forget me. I’m the one you’re looking for as well!”

The nuurg with one eye, the cyclops, slowly turned his horse around to face Brenwar. He lowered his massive spear. The wrath horn snorted. Its front hoof clawed at the muddy ground.

“You know, you might not want to do that,” Nath said in a loud voice. “Dwarves don’t like to be poked or trampled.”

From the far end of the street, Brenwar said, “I can speak for myself!” The dwarf didn’t even have Mortuun in hand. He was nothing but soaking-wet beard and breastplate. “Come on, one eye, what are you waiting for?”

The wrath horn reared up and charged. Its great hooves thundered down the road on a path to overrun Brenwar.

All eyes were on the event.

What in Nalzambor is that crazy dwarf doing?

The naked end of the spear’s metal tip was right on course to skewer Brenwar like meat on a stick when Brenwar slipped to the side. His powerful fingers grabbed hold of the spear and yanked the nuurg right out of the saddle. Strengthened by the bracers of power that he wore, Brenwar pummeled the giant of a man into the mud with his skeleton hand.

Wham! Wham! Wham!

Covered in grit, Brenwar stood up and waved. “He’s finished.”

The nuurg with two eyes turned his attention to Nath. He drew his flail. His head swiveled on his shoulders. His dark eyes pierced Nath.

“Looking for me?” Nath said from behind the nuurg, in its blind spot. And smacked the horse hard on its backside.

It reared up.

The nuurg rider, no longer having its hand on the reins, toppled. It hit hard with a splash and a thud. The big humanoid scrambled up to his feet and came out swinging. The flail ripped over Nath’s ducking head.

Without hesitation, Nath ran the nuurg through with Fang.

The monster died in the rain.

Nath shook his head. Killing wasn’t what he wanted to do.

Brenwar came along and said, “Don’t doubt yourself. You can’t keep evil in prison. It will get out. You did what had to be done. This is war.”

“What have you done?” Malden yelled, clutching his head and hair as if the world was crumbling down. “You’ve doomed us all. The other nuurg, they’ll kill us. They’ll kill us all!”

Brenwar walloped the man in the gut with a quick punch.

Malden sank to his knees. He groaned.

“Listen to me, farmer! The only ones dying are them! But if you side with them, you’ll die with them. Tonight we turn the tables.”

Tim rushed over, feet splashing through the water. He carried Mortuun in his arms. He handed it over to Brenwar. Catching his breath, he said, “That thing’s heavier than it looks.”

“It’s supposed to be,” Brenwar replied.

“I-I couldn’t believe my eyes. The two of you made such quick work of those giant beasts. You both truly are what the songs say you are.” Tim shook his head. “I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it for myself.”

“That was nothing,” Brenwar remarked.

Nath had one of the wrath horns by the reins and said to Tim, “Do you think you can handle one of these things?”

Staring up at the huge beast with wide eyes, Tim said, “Are you joking?”

“They aren’t as mean as they are ugly. You just have to take command.” Nath handed the man the reins. “Just imagine if the legionnaires had horses like these back when.”

Tim petted the horse between the forehead and muzzle. It snorted. Stamped its hooves. With a nod, he said, “I think I can manage.” He climbed into the saddle. Looking down at Nath, he said, “Whew, this is different. So where are we going?”

“You say you know where the other nuurg reside. Brenwar and I want to pay them a visit.” Nath put his fingers to his lips and whistled. The other wrath horn walked over with its head down. Nath mounted the creature and held down his hand. Brenwar took it and climbed up behind him. “It’s going to be our first and final visit.”

Knees deep in the mud, Malden said, “You’ll doom us. You’ll doom us all. Tim, don’t be a fool.”

Tall in the saddle, Tim said, “If I weren’t so darn set on being a good guy, I’d trample you into a mud hole.”

Malden smirked.

Tim dug his heels into the wrath horn. It reared up.

Malden cringed.

The hooves crashed down right in front of the country man.

Up on his feet, Malden took off running.

With the look of a hardened soldier firing in his eyes, Tim said, “Let’s go get them.”