Siege At The Settlements (Book 6) (4 page)

Chapter 8

P
ilpin blew the horn, but no trumpet blast came forth. The little dwarf shook it. “Awfully quiet for a horn, don’t you think?”

“Blow it again. Harder this time!” Brenwar said, taking off at a run straight into town.

Pilpin took a deep breath and gave it all he had.

KA-KA-ROOOOOOOOOOOM!

It sounded like something a giant moose would say.

“Good!” Brenwar said. “That ought to do it.”

“Do what exactly?” Pilpin said, running along his side. “You’ve never let me use the horn before. You just make me wear it like a necklace, which wouldn’t be so bad if it were made of gold perhaps. Not a lot of bling to it.”

They splashed through the muddy streets, following the dragon tracks and rounding the corner.

“By my beard!” Brenwar exclaimed. “There’s more of them!”

Dragons, one by one, burst into a large building.

“Nath must be in there!”

“Why do you say that?” Pilpin said.

A streak of flames shot through the room.

“Because where there’s fire, there’s Nath Dragon.” He readied War Hammer. “You stay back, Pilpin. Wait.”

“I’ll certainly not. I’ll fight when I want to. I’ll die when I want, too.”

It wasn’t easy, telling a dwarf to stay away from a fight. It was like telling a bear he couldn’t have honey, and it didn’t matter how big or small a dwarf you were. But orders were orders and Brenwar gave the orders.

“You’ll be in the fight soon enough. Wait.”

A jangle of armor caught his ears. Soldiers of Barnabus filed into the streets from out of nowhere. Brenwar hadn’t thought there were a dozen in the whole town, but a full score showed up, fully armed for battle, orcs, gnolls and lizard men. One race just as ugly as the other. Their dark eyes locked on the two dwarves. Their faces turned to snarls.

“So,” Pilpin said, toying with a mace in one hand and a hand axe in the other, “do you still want me to wait?”

“I think you’ve waited long enough,” Brenwar said, lowering his powerful shoulders. “Charge!”

Gorlee pushed his face out of the grass and rolled onto his back. Everything in his body tingled. Stung with pain. It was the first time he had felt the full wrath of a dragon’s tail.

“I hope that never happens again,” he said, sitting up and rubbing his head.

Squawk!

Squawk!

His head snapped around. No dragons were there. Just pain and rain. He heard a sound in the field behind him. A lone barn stood isolated from the others. Its massive doors swung open and soldiers came out.

Not more of those guys.

The soldiers of Barnabus. A mishmash of the rotten races working together in the battle for evil. Gorlee was sick of seeing them. Determined. Obnoxious. Dangerous. Every last one of them. They cut through the grasses, armor and weapons rattling, and went into the streets.

Gorlee groaned and forced himself up on his feet. He checked his hands. One was stone and one was still orcen.

“I’m going to have to do better than this if I’m to go after them.”

He summoned his power and staggered into the streets behind them.

Nath jumped away from the shower of fire onto the floor.

The roof and rafters burst into flames.

“Kill him!” Dormus screamed. “Stupid lizards! Kill him!”

Nath hopped over a swishing tail.

A second tail lashed out.

Whop!

He left his feet and hit the wall.

Crack!

He fell to his knees, clutching his chest. He had felt every bit of that. He shook his head and stood up with clenched teeth.

“That’s enough of that now.”

A dragon jumped on top of him, pinning him to the floor by the chest.

“Get off me!” Nath pushed back its great neck with both hands.

Saliva dripped from its fangs and sizzled on his chest.

“Argh!” he said, “You’re making me mad now!”

Memories flashed in his head. Childhood. He’d wrestled with dragons then, and they had walloped him good, time and time again. Sometimes in fun. Sometimes not. He could tell way back when that some dragons liked him but many dragons didn’t. They didn’t respect him for some reason. Maybe because he looked more like a man than a dragon. Maybe something else. But he had learned one thing: every time they beat him down, he had better get back up again.

He threw a roundhouse punch into the dragon’s nose.

Pop!

The dragon reared up with a roar.

Nath rolled away and sprang to his feet. He ducked and dodged claws and teeth. Pieces of the roof fell down in big chunks of burning wood. The room filled with smoke and heat. Nath jumped on the back of one and wrapped his arms around its neck. He squeezed with all his might. His muscles bulged and popped.

Squawk!

The dragon thrashed. Wood splintered. Flames and smoke were everywhere. The dragon slung its head back and forth, but Nath held on. He squeezed harder. The dragon slammed him into the fireplace, ripping out the rock. Still Nath held on.

The dragon staggered on its feet and sagged to the ground beneath the ruined floor.

“That’s it! Go to sleep!” Nath said. He didn’t want to kill it. And he didn’t have to. He could put it to sleep if he could hold on long enough. His arms started to quiver. His dragon heart gave him a lot of power, but he couldn’t hold on forever.

He peered through the smoke and fire. He couldn’t see anything. All he heard was the dragons squawking. They were still looking for him.

Nath closed his eyes and heaved one last time. He could feel the dragon’s heartbeat and breathing begin to slow. It slumped to the ground and moved no more.

“Good boy,” Nath said, blinking and fanning the smoke. It was thicker than water, but it didn’t bother him to breathe it. “One down and two to go.” He slipped off the dragon’s neck and waited, ready to spring on the next dragon that passed.

A resounding crack came from above. He looked up just as the entire flaming building came crashing down on him.

Chapter 9

B
renwar sent two lizard men flying with a single blow.

“Who else wants to kiss my hammer?” he yelled. He pointed to an orc that had long hair in its eyes. “You!” He swung again.

The soldiers jumped back.

The soldiers were a well-trained unit. Cautious, but confident. They formed a ring around the dwarves, two deep, maybe three.

“Surrender, dwarves,” the lead orc said. He was a tall one. Big muscles like the gnolls had. Covered in hair and heavy leather armor. His dark eyes beamed from behind his helmet. “Surrender, and we won’t take the scourge to you. We’ll just kill you.”

Pilpin huffed behind his back. The little dwarf bled and limped. A nasty gash was on his head. The handful of soldiers they’d charged had become a horde.

“You won’t be killing anyone, Snaggle Teeth,” Brenwar warned. “It’s you that best surrender, not we.”

Spears with long curved tips lowered at their chests.

“I’m going down swinging, Brenwar,” Pilpin said through his little brown beard. “And I’m killing that orc.” He spat on the ground. “He clipped my beard.”

Whoosh!

Crackle!

The assembly building collapsed. Fire and cinder exploded everywhere. Smoke, dust and debris filled the air.

“Hah! Hah! Hah!” the orc laughed. “We’ll just toss them in there.” He gloated to his men. “Dwarves burn like coal. We used to use them to warm our stoves back in Thraag.” He snorted. “No good for eating, but good for cooking. Just be sure and shave their beards first. Smell bad burning. Awful bad.”

“No one shaves my beard! And I’m not a lump of coal for baking loaves!” Pilpin charged. He hopped between two jabbing spears and brought his axe and mace around full circle.

Whack! Chop!

A gnoll barked out and fell to the ground. The soldiers piled on Pilpin, crushing him into the ground with their superior weight.

Brenwar raised his hammer over his head.

The knife-like spears licked out and cut his wrists. More spears pressed at his throat and neck.

“Don’t even think about it, Dwarf,” the orc said. “Drop it, and we’ll let the little one live.”

Gnolls had Pilpin’s arms locked behind his back and his feet kicking above the ground. A knife was on his throat.

“Bring it down, Brenwar!” Pilpin said. “They’ll kill us anyway! Gorla Mon Chok! Gorla Mon Chok!” The words were dwarven.
Death before surrender.

Pilpin was young for a dwarf. Only a couple hundred years old. He didn’t understand the burden that Brenwar carried. That Brenwar had to survive, and that sometimes in order to survive, you had to surrender.

Brenwar lowered his hammer and set it on the ground.

“Brenwar?” Pilpin said, blinking.

The soldiers chuckled.

“Seems the dwarves are no longer stubborn as stumps in the ground, as they used to be,” the orc said with his nostrils flaring. “Like I said, they’re nothing but bearded halflings anymore.”

“Why you―” Brenwar started.

The butt of a spear clocked him in the back of the head.

“Settle yourself, Dwarf. Else we cut the little one’s throat.”

“Why don’t you anyway?” Pilpin said.

“Because the dragons like their meals live and kicking. It does their bellies well.”

Three six-legged bluu dragons crawled out of the flames of the ruined assembly building. A man in dark armor stood outside with a bright amulet on his neck, waving the dragons toward him. There was no sign of Nath. Brenwar felt his belly churn.

“Hark!” the orc soldier yelled over to the man with the amulet. “We’ve dwarves! Shall we toss them in the fire or feed them to the dragons?”

The man walked over, cutting through the ranks, and looked down on Brenwar. He wore the mark of an Overseer. His slung his greasy hair over his shoulder. He had a sharp nose, sagging chin and dark features.

“My,” he said, “is this Brenwar Bolderguild?”

“Yes!” Pilpin said, struggling. “And you better think twice if you think you can stop him.”

“Well, if I can stop Nath Dragon, I’m pretty sure I can stop his friends.” He looked over at the orc commander. “Just kill them.”

The orc pulled out a knife and said, “Can I keep his beard?”

“You can keep his toes for all I care,” Overseer Dormus said, walking away. “Just get it over with. I need Nath Dragon’s bones recovered once this fire is out.”

Gorlee stood alongside a storehouse nearby. He’d seen most of everything but not all. The soldiers had Brenwar and Pilpin surrounded but the roar of the fire drowned out their words.

What to do? Think, Gorlee. Think!

Gorlee was a chameleon. A gifted and powerful race. He could change himself to look like any of the races. He could even turn his skin into stone or metal. But he couldn’t always think of the right thing to do at the right time. He watched the dragons drag their tails out of the flames and begin to prowl around the building, with their great tails sweeping the muddy streets. He clutched his chest.

Is Nath in there? Is that what they’re looking for? Is he buried in the timber and flames?

An idea struck him. He changed form. Black scales and sharp claws formed over his hands.

Nothing brave about being a fool and nothing foolish about being brave.

He ran out into the streets, waving his scaly arms high. His red hair was blowing in the wind.

“Here! Over here, dragons! Hah! Hah! Hah!” Gorlee laughed. “Catch me if you can!”

The man with the bright crystal on his neck whirled. Hatred filled his eyes. He held the amulet up high.

“Kill him! Kill Nath Dragon!”

The soldiers turned their focus from the dwarves and started to run.

“Not you!” the Overseer said. “Stay put! Let the dragons handle this.”

Gorlee sprinted for the fields, taking quick glances over his shoulders. Dragons were fast. Six-legged dragons were even faster.

Stupid idea! This isn’t going to do it!

The dragons were gaining.

Ah, if I could only turn into a rover horse. Why can I only do races and not the animals? Why can’t I make stuff up? Be strong as stone and still able to talk and fly? I wish I could spread wings like an eagle and fly away. Guzan!

He glanced over his shoulder. The dragons would be on him at any moment.

Never thought I’d see the day when I might not see the next.

The farmlands stretched out all around. The plowed fields were muddy, slowing him down. Gorlee’s breath started to labor.
Go for the cornfields.

I never run!

He stumbled and fell into a mud hole.

Splash!

He scrambled up, feet deep in the mud, and found himself eye to eye with three dragons.

Sultans of Sulfur!