Samual (67 page)

Sam however, held his fire shield tight as he walked down the streets and it seemed to work. The wolves exploded when they touched it and most of the debris went flying away from him. He took a few scratches and his armour – as minimal as it was – a few more, but after an hour he guessed a dozen wolves had fallen to it and he was still standing.

But he hadn't found the beggar. Nor any other civilians. No more had the war masters as they scoured the streets through the mirror. And all the time the Dragon remained hidden. Sam had however, levelled two more streets and scores of burnt out buildings that had once been homes and small businesses. It was slow, but this way he knew that sooner or later the Dragon would be forced out into the open. There would be nowhere left for him to hide.

“Two streets up, to your left.” War Master Wyldred's voice suddenly interrupted him in his work, and immediately he heard it Sam started running in the indicated direction.

“The beggar or the Dragon?” It didn't matter which, he had to find them both.

“The beggar.”

Two streets up Sam turned the around the corner and got a glimpse of the beggar in the distance. He saw a dark, shambling figure ducking into a building. Sam started running harder. His blood and his training made him quick on his feet. But still he wasn't fast enough and to add to his worries a wolf came from out of nowhere to attack him. Happily it exploded on his fire shield, but still, it had caught him by surprise and he didn't like that.

When he reached the building, breathing a little more heavily than he would have liked, there was no sign of the beggar. But Sam was sure he was inside.

The building was a warehouse. Actually it was the burnt out remains of one. It stood three stories high, though he doubted it had any internal floors left as they would have been wood. All that was left was the building's skeleton which had been built from stone. Most importantly though it was dark inside. Pitch black. The roof was slate and still intact. The windows, those that hadn't melted, were covered with char. And the walls were fire blackened. There was no light inside and he didn't like the thought of entering the darkened space. Even with his fire shield he would have felt vulnerable.

Getting rid of the slate roof though proved easy as Sam fused the slates together, and then snapped all the nails holding them to what remained of the beams and purlins. He then let them slide off and fall to the ground where they shattered with a pleasing sound. With the roof gone there was plenty of light inside. Even on the ground floor. As he'd suspected, the internal floors had burnt out.

The light revealed about a dozen wolves as he walked in, something that sent his heart racing a little. They were perched in the corners of the building or lodged on the remains of the joists that had once supported the floors, gleaming in the newly arrived sunlight, and all ready to attack. But once the light had been shone inside the building and their element of surprise had been lost, they gave up on any plans of an ambush. Instead they rushed to attack him as he stood in the double width doorway staring at them.

Sam tightened his fire shield as he saw them charge. In short order the wolves threw themselves at it and exploded barely ten feet in front of him.

A matter of heartbeats later it was over and all the wolves were gone. All that was left was a large open expanse of dirt floor littered with burning pieces of twisted steel on the other side of a ruined door frame. And as he stood there staring at them Sam realised he'd found the Dragon. This surely had to be the last of his army, kept close to protect him. Which meant he had to be close.

“War Masters.” Sam indicated the warehouse. “The Dragon has to be inside.”

He let them do the search since they were safe behind their Window of Parsus, while he stood there and let the hope wash over him. It was nearly ended. And while it seemed odd to him that he should have chased the beggar in here only to find the Dragon, in the end that didn't matter.

What did matter was when a moment later a steel clad form abruptly swung down from above, burst through his fire shield and tried to put an axe through his head.

Sam dodged the attack – barely – and then pulled his own greatsword from his back as the Dragon came at him again. Instinctively he countered another vicious attack designed to cut his legs out from under him. And again he barely succeeded. The Dragon was fast, his fury powering him as nothing else could. More than that, he was trained. And Sam had been caught by surprise. He didn't like that.

Sam hadn't expected the Dragon to be so capable. He'd seen the Dragon in the Window of Parsus and known he was troll blood. He'd seen him murder those unfortunate men his machina had abducted. But still he'd thought of him mostly as an enchanter. That was what made him dangerous after all. So to have the Dragon in front of him, dressed in some sort of steel armour that obviously protected him from fire and swinging a pair of heavy hand axes was distinctly scary.

But in a strange way it seemed right that at the end he would have to face him sword against axe and tusk. And it wasn't a choice. After all, the Dragon's armour protected him somewhat against fire and Sam's magic was at a low ebb to begin with. He had more strength with his Earth magic, but the Dragon had the same magic. And nature magic wouldn't help either of them. In the end it had to be steel on steel.

Fortunately, though the Dragon had the speed and strength the blood of his trollish ancestors gave him, Sam had years of training in combat. And once he'd dodged the second attack he calmed his nerves and remembered the basics of combat. The third time the Dragon came for him he dodged again but this time swivelled as the troll over extended and planted a boot in his back.

The Dragon went flying, sprawling back into the warehouse only to land on his face. Sam strode after him thinking to end this quickly.

His enemy had other ideas though and he rolled to his side surprisingly quickly before finding his feet once more. Once again the two of them stood facing one another. Knight against troll. Enchanter against enchanter. Fire Angel against Dragon. Standing in what to all intents and purposes was an arena. Sam heard a gasp that he knew was his wife's, but he could not take a single heartbeat to comfort her. Not when he had an enemy to face.

Maybe this was supposed to be how it ended Sam thought. It seemed right somehow. Though he'd never seen a troll in armour before. Nor one that knew how to fight with weapons and armour. Normally they were savage creatures and that was how they fought. Though he might not be a military strategist, he was a clever fighter.

The Dragon demonstrated that a moment later as he bent, half rolled, stuck one axe in the other hand, grabbed up a handful of dirt from the ground and flung it at him. Sam spun, barely managing to keep the dirt from finding his eyes, and knowing this was going to be no easy battle. Fortunately he knew enough to complete his spin, greatsword held out before him, and then catch the Dragon who was already rushing him on the shoulder. The heavy plate took most of the blow, but it still buckled and tore. Sam could see a trace of blood on his blade as the Dragon was knocked aside.

“First blood to me then!” Sam laughed at the Dragon, hoping to goad him into making a mistake. But other than letting out a savage growl, the Dragon didn't seem to fall for the trick. His tusks might look as brutish and animalistic as those of any other troll, but there was a mind behind them. A mind that knew Sam was dangerous with a blade in his hand.

The Dragon tried the move a second time, but this time instead of scooping up dirt he tossed a belt knife at him, hoping to catch him by surprise. It bounced off Sam's armour, but even so the sound told him he had to be wary.

“If you'd had any sense you would have gone for the legs.” He taunted the Dragon.

“If you had any sense you'd run!” The Dragon wasn't so good at the game, but he still knew how to threaten.

Unfortunately for him Sam suddenly remembered that he still had some useful magic at his command, and he sent a spray of ice at the Dragon. He figured that the armour might be proof against fire, but that ice was a different matter.

“Foetid whore!” The Dragon swore and shook off the ice, mostly unharmed, but he had bruising to his cheek. “You're nothing without your magic!”

Sam knew then that the Dragon had weak points he could exploit, and not having worn a full helm was one of them. Of course Sam also had weak points as he'd come wearing only his chest and back plates.

“And you're nothing without your armies. But I don't see them around.”

“They'll be back. As soon as I've killed you.” The Dragon edged to his left, sheathed his axe and drew a long steel knife for his off hand. It seemed he had no end of weapons strapped to his armour.

“Trying to gain position?” Sam laughed as he responded to the move. “Thinking to feint and dive through the door to safety? No such luck. I'll always know which way you'll jump. You're just not very bright.”

“Really? You didn't catch me before. I escaped the island before you reached me. And if you hadn't had help you wouldn't have stopped me at Andrea.” The Dragon edged another step to his left.

“Escaped the island?” Sam didn't understand. Nor did he really care. But he was curious. And he wanted his enemy distracted.

“I heard the fool priest when he said that the Fire Angel was coming for me. So I made sure I wasn't there.”

Sam shrugged having no idea what the Dragon was talking about. Yet it did explain why he'd run to Fair Fields. Still, this was all about distracting him, not having a conversation. And he knew one way to do that. “So I destroyed Andrea instead. It wasn't hard.”

That got the response he'd wanted from the Dragon, as the troll blood snarled like an animal at him. “The fire is weaker without Andrea but there are other workshops and you don't have enough sun bursts to destroy them all.”

“I don't have to destroy them. I just have to kill you now.” Why was the troll blood still edging to his side? Still going for an exit? Or was he turning him? Getting him out of position? Sam didn't know. But he was suspicious.

The Dragon took two more quick steps to his left and then suddenly lunged at him and Sam discovered his plan even as he found his blade hemmed in against the wall. He couldn't swing it as he needed to, to parry the Dragon's knife. Fortunately he could dance back a step and let the Dragon's attack fall short. Then he took half a step away from the wall and countered, striking for his eyes.

It was the Dragon's turn to dance back in fear, dropping the knife and reaching once more for his axe. As he did so Sam sent another blast of ice shards at him. This time when the Dragon had finished twisting and turning there was blood running down his cheek. A lot of it.

There was also fury in his eyes, and it made him dangerous. Even as he was twisting to avoid the ice blast, the Dragon managed a side step and lunged at him, and Sam had to dodge quickly in turn. One thing was certain. The Dragon wasn't letting his injuries slow him down. If anything he was getting faster.

Which was when Sam released the scything spell on the sword, full in the middle of the Dragon's chest. It was spectacular, and for a moment both of them were blinded by the fire. But the Dragon's armour proved tougher than the wings of his drakes, and when he was done his enemy was unharmed. So Sam hit him with yet another ice blast sending him flying backwards and making him snarl once more.

“Whore!” The Dragon quickly returned to the fight. But he looked rattled.

“Ready to pay for your crimes?” Sam goaded him some more, then had to doge and twist again as the Dragon leapt for him, swinging both axes wildly. By the gods he was fast! But it was desperation and fear powering him. And again he overreached and Sam delivered another kick to his back that sent the Dragon sprawling.

“My crimes?!” The Dragon got to his feet and spat in fury on the ground. “I have committed no crimes. I obey my Lord.”

This time the Dragon didn't make the same mistake. He spun his axes in a furious set of arcs but never over extended as he advanced on Sam. Unfortunately for him Sam's greatsword had a greater reach and a step before the Dragon reached him he raised it and stepped into the attack, thrusting it straight into his gut.

Three feet of the best tempered steel with a diamond sharpened point would not be stopped by any armour no matter how pretty, and the sword punched through it to skewer the Dragon nicely. When Sam withdrew it there was a good six inches of blood on the end of it. It wasn't a deadly strike – the Dragon had twisted as the blade had ripped into him causing it to miss his target – but Sam knew as he watched the Dragon leap back and scream in pain, that it would cripple him. Certainly it would slow him down.