Siege At The Settlements (Book 6) (14 page)

Chapter 33

“W
hat do you say?” Pilpin said to Devliik.

They’d tracked the second satyr high into the mountains, only to start another weaving downward trek again. Now they stood on a crag in the rocks overlooking a deep valley. Devliik was propped up on one knee with a long brass spy glass to his eye. He handed it over to Pilpin with a grunt.

“Got a host of them down there,” he said, rubbing his wooly brown beard. “That’ll be a mighty amount of graves to dig unless we can bury them all at once.”

“Bury them?” Pilpin said, peering through the spy glass. “What if Gorlee’s still in there?”

“We’ve been watching for hours. He ain’t.”

“We can’t know that for sure,” Pilpin said. “He could be in any one of those tents.”

“I don’t think so,” Devliik said. “Why, are you wanting to go snoop around?”

“Well,” Pilpin started, but stopped.

Devliik was in charge. A fine and experienced commander in the field. Pilpin followed him without question, but he wished he knew where the big dwarf stood in terms of finding Gorlee.

“I want those murdering satyrs,” Devliik said, making a spit. “I want to find our friend too, but I don’t see any sight of him down there. I don’t see any of them scaly lizard soldiers either. They’ve moved off to somewhere and must have Gorlee with them.”

“Shall we go around and peek?”

“Maybe that’s what they want us to do,” Devliik said. “Perhaps we should flush them all out.”

“The entire host? There must be over a hundred. Quite a risk when all we want is the satyrs.”

Devliik spat.

“This is war and those are orcs and such. We don’t make friends with them. We kill them, else they kill others, like our friends.”

Chapter 34

B
ang!

Gorlee jumped.

Bang!

Up on his feet he went, head whirling.

The ropes constricted and down he went again.

He groaned and slowly made his way back to his feet.

The rain had stopped and sunrays split the clouds in the sky.

Bang!

He turned and faced the sound of the aggressor. A tall figure with huge shoulders shrouded in a dark purple robe stood in front of the cage. A heavy war mace swung back and forth like a pendulum in his gauntleted hand.

Gorlee didn’t say a word. He just stared back.

Heavy eyes went up and down him, eyeing his scales. Most of the man’s face was shadowed, but Gorlee could see the tattoos. A hard expression. A glimmer of metal armor under the big man’s neck. The man stared at him as if he should know him or was waiting for him to speak.

This is your test, Gorlee. This is your fate.

His stomach groaned. His legs felt weak and his neck was heavy. He checked his hands. Still clawed. Still scaled.
Good.
It wasn’t uncommon for a changeling to wake up as someone else. Dreams, especially bad ones, could do that to them. But it had never happened to Gorlee. Not yet at least.

Moments passed as he tried to think of things Nath would say.

I accept your surrender.

It seems the flies like you.

I know an orc that is taken with you.

Nath had an unusual way of finding humor in the gravest things. He also had a sharp tongue and wit about him too.

I guess when you’re a dragon, it’s easier to get away with those things.

The cleric wasn’t alone. Behind him stood several more acolytes with their hoods pulled down. Colorful tattoos decorated their heads in bright and exotic colors. They had chains and shackles in their hands. Mithril, by the looks of the metal.

Great.

Two other figures stood looming in the back with black wings folded over their backs. Draykis. A higher order of the lizard mankind. The part man, part dragon undead creatures were something Gorlee had come to dread. Their cold eyes disturbed him. They had no value for life, as true life was no longer in them. He thought of the dwarves.

I hope they are free and clear of those evil goons.

The lead cleric raised his war mace up and brought it down on the lock.

Whack!

It fell to the dais on the roof in two pieces.

“Step back,” the man said in a heavy voice.

Gorlee backed up a few paces, while the other robed servants opened the door. In moments, they hand Gorlee’s arms and legs chained and shackled. His wrists were bound behind his back. Tight. Uncomfortable.

“Come out,” the large man said.

Gorlee stepped out with a flutter in his stomach. He felt less free and secure.

An incantation was muttered by the hooded man.

The mystic ropes that bound him slipped off his body and coiled up on the ground.

An acolyte picked up the rope, held it out bowing, and said to his leader, “For you, Kryzak.”

Kryzak grabbed the rope and smote the man across the face with his mailed fist, knocking him to his knees.

“Lord Kryzak,” the war cleric said. “Imbecile.” He turned his attention to Gorlee. “You may speak now.”

Gorlee said nothing. His thoughts raced in his head.
Kryzak
. He should know that name. He’d heard it before in stories. But there were so many.
Kryzak. Who is that?
He eyed the man with defiance. His stomach made a loud rumble.

“Too hungry to speak, Dragon? Has your sharp tongue weakened over the years?” Kryzak pushed his shoulder. “And you seem so much more, uh, formidable with all those scales. I’m certain they’ll fetch a fine price on the market, along with that lovely head of hair of yours.”

“Still envious, are we?” Gorlee said without thinking. “Perhaps you can buy it, assuming you could afford to on whatever the paltry wage is for being an ugly goon of Barnabus these days.”

Kryzak cracked him in the back with his mace. Not too hard, but a warning.

Gorlee held his tongue but felt every bit of it.

Blast! They only look like scales. I wish they were real
.

“Glad you found your lizard’s tongue, Nath Dragon,” Kryzak said, making his way around and facing him. The man’s eyes were as haunting as his deep voice. “I wouldn’t enjoy this so much without it. Come.”

Across the roof they went and down the steps. The draykis held him by a metal leash on his waist. Kryzak led the way down the long steps that zigzagged down the huge tower hewn from large alabaster stones, talking most of the way.

“I’ve been waiting for this day,” he said, “but I’m surprised you haven’t resisted further. You were always so temperamental.” He cleared his throat. “And how are your little friends, Dragon? Do the ones that survived me still live, or have our forces killed them? We’ve killed so many since you went into hiding. Twenty-five years of dying.” He stopped and waited for the acolytes to open a pair of great bronze doors. “But don’t feel so bad. It was always going to lead to this. And it’s better than drowning.”

What? Drowning? Kryzak!
He recalled the story that was told to him by Bayzog and Brenwar one night.
The man who murdered the elven rover and tried to kill the others in the crater. They always wondered what happened to him.
Gorlee took a hard look at the man.
He’s
purely diabolical.

A large room greeted him with high arches in vaulted ceilings. Dark curtains were pulled open around huge bay windows, and beautiful tapestries hung on the walls. On the far side, a grand opening led out onto a large terrace. In the middle, a giant oval table stood alone with high-backed mahogany chairs around it. A map hung on a separate wall and a large padded chair with lions carved in the arms sat like a throne on a dais nearby. It faced a window and a woman was seated there facing the terrace. She did not turn when they entered.

Gorlee swallowed hard. The room felt cold. Unnatural. The pungent smell of death lingered. He gazed around, just moving his eyes, high and low. Blood stained the marble floor. Dark spots blotted the carpets. His breathing thinned. His hunger froze. Power, evil power, crawled in his skin and bones.

A large bird swooped inside the room. Its feathers were dark and colorful. It landed on top of the woman’s throne-like chair, facing Gorlee.

What is that thing? A bird, or a dragon? Oh no. A drulture!

Those, he knew about. Feathered dragons. Small dragons that preyed on the dead and the living like vultures. They were known to terrify gnome and halfling villages from time to time. They ate pixies like frogs eat flies.

Gorlee held its gaze with blood frozen in his veins. Drultures, unlike most dragons, actually did eat people. Of course, he was never clear if they were more dragon than bird or more bird than dragon. They were the best of the worst in both. Nasty.

It glared back at him. A restless hunger filled its bright eyes.

He had seen drultures on a battlefield full of the fallen once. Their jaws opened up like a python’s and swallowed up parts of men whole. It had left him empty inside.

“Is he well secured?” the woman said. Her voice was deep, dark, and powerful.

“The mithril is intact as it pleases your will,” Kryzak said, bowing with the others to a knee, “my Queen.”

“Good. Now,” she said, still sitting, still without turning, “you may all leave us.”

Kryzak stood up and stiffened. His mouth opened to speak but didn’t.

“Are you still here?”

The war cleric bowed and slowly backed away through the doors with the others, glaring at Gorlee. Gorlee offered a smile. It didn’t last. It felt like a tomb was sealed when the doors closed behind him.

Nothing was said for moments until finally the High Priestess spoke. Her voice turned his blood to ice water.

“My, aren’t you clever…”

Oh no, she knows!

Chapter 35

“B
renwar,” Ben said, glancing between dragons, “what do we do?”

If ever there was a time that he should use Fang, it was now. He hadn’t stood toe to toe with dragons before.

“Watch my back,” Brenwar said. “And that dwarven steel should cut them.”

The dragons snorted blasts of hot air at them and circled. ‘Great lizards with wings’ Brenwar called them sometimes. They crept like cats with scales. Their claws dug up the muddy ground like sharp metal rakes. A deep rumble came from their bellies, ready to unleash the thunder that waited inside.

Ben’s knuckles were white on his sword grip. The dragons that ruled night and day had come out to play.

“We can take ‘em, Brenwar said. “Just stay close. I don’t think these grey scalers are big enough to be breathers. Just go for the neck and nose. And watch out for their—”

Swat!

A black dragon tail lashed out, lifting Brenwar from his feet, sending him head over heels on the ground.

Ben chopped downward and scored a deep cut in the tail.

The beast let out an angry growl and whirled on him with hot saliva dripping from its mouth.

He swung back and forth, keeping both dragons at bay.

They clawed and swatted at him. Their heads slid back and forth with cat-quick eyes.

Ben struck at one’s nose.

Its long neck recoiled from harm with ease.

A tail swept at his feet. He jumped high over the tip of the tail.

Whack!

The other caught him full in the chest. It felt like it loosened his body from his bones and down hard he went. His sword flew from his fingertips. A second later, the dragon, twice the size of him, had him pinned down. Its claws dug into his shoulders. Ben screamed.

Zzzzt! Zzzzt! Zzzzt! Zzzzt!

The dragon jerked away from him. Golden shards of light were buried in its face.

Ben scrambled for his sword, dove and rolled back onto his feet. The angry dragon came right back at him.

Ben swung a two-handed blow with all his strength, splitting its nose.

The beast went into a mad frenzy. Its eyes flashed with anger, and on it came.

He braced himself for the charge, but the dragon didn’t charge him, it leaped.

Gads! I can’t catch that thing!

Brenwar rolled like a metal ball, onto his feet with War Hammer ready. It wasn’t the first dragon he’d fought, and it wouldn’t be the last. Not if he moved fast. He rushed the back side of the nearest dragon. In a split second it turned.

“Too late, Lizard!”

Brenwar brought War Hammer down with all his might and all his power, striking it in its backside. It sounded like a crack of thunder.

Ka-Pow!

The grey scaler’s entire body shuddered. Its wings jolted, stretched and shuddered.

Brenwar struck again.

Pow!

And again.

Pow!

His battle-lusted mind heard the cry of an elf. He turned.

“Brenwar!” Bayzog yelled, pointing above.

A dragon dove from the sky and snatched him up.

“Let me down, you filthy lizard!”

Woozy, Bayzog’s mind raced on what to do. Ben and Brenwar were both in grave danger. He himself was almost too weak to move. Brenwar was being lifted away toward a certain doom. He envisioned the dwarf being dropped into the fiery Jordak River.

No!

The Elderwood Staff glowed hot in his hands. He pointed it at the flying dragon. He swore he could hear Brenwar screaming in the air, “Don’t you dare, Elf!”

The half-elf wizard unleashed the staff’s power in a long hot burst of mystic flame.

Sah-Razzzz!

It streaked across the sky and struck the dragon in the shoulders. Brenwar tumbled toward the earth.

“Soft landings, Dwarf,” he muttered, eyes searching. He found Ben just as the grey scaler leapt on top of the rangy warrior. Fangs and claws tore into him. “No, Ben, no!”

The dwarven armor lasted a few seconds before the dragon ripped it all off. Ben didn’t think. He fought. His strong country thews were no match for the might of the dragon. All he could do was hang on to its horns. Push back against its great neck. A moment passed and his battle-hardened muscles began to shudder and give.

I won’t die without giving it everything I’ve got.

Burning saliva dropped on his chest and the dragon let out a triumphant rumble and opened its jaws wide.

Ben put forth a great heave with his last ounce of strength.

The dragon lurched backward with an alarming howl.

Ben gasped. He was free. Exhausted, but free.

The dragon clawed at the ground. It roared in anger. Something had it by the tail.

Ben’s heart pounded.

That something was Nath Dragon.