Strife In The Sky (Book 7) (2 page)

“His father.”

“Really?” Bayzog said, excited. “That’s a good thing, right?”

***

Ben eyed Nath’s scales.

Dark and beautiful, they had a way of winking in the sunlight. There was a quality about Nath and his presence that was unexplainable. Admirable. Captivating. Ever since the first time Ben met Nath, he’d been amazed with him. That was twenty-five years ago. And now, himself a hardened warrior and a battle-scarred veteran of over a hundred battles, he felt like a young man again.

“Dragon, how far can you see?”

Nath showed a pleasant smile over his strong chin and pointed into the sky.

“You see that cloud, the white one with a ring around it?”

“Yes.”

“Keep an eye on it,” Nath said, “something is about to pass through it.”

Ben squinted and shielded his eyes. Waited. Several seconds later, a flock of birds passed through the cloud. “Huh,” Ben said, then smiled at Nath. “But maybe that was a guess.”

“A guess huh,” Nath said, extending his hand. “Then hand me Akron.”

“Why?”

Nath eyed him.

“Alright,” Ben said, unhitching the bow from the lock on the back of his armor and handing it to Nath.

Snap. Clatch. Snap.

The bowstring twirled up and stiffened into place.

“And an arrow,” Nath said, opening his palm.

Ben reached into the quiver and felt the feathers of a shaft.

“Mithril,” Nath added.

“But there’s not that many—”

Nath snapped his fingers, popping Ben’s ears.

“Fine,” Ben said, handing it over, “mithril it is.”

Nath brought his horse to a halt, and Ben did the same. Slowly, Nath loaded the arrow and scanned the horizon. His red hair drifted gently in the breeze.

“I don’t know what you’re shooting at, but please don’t waste that arrow.”

Nath nocked the arrow and drew the string back along his cheek.

His pull is so smooth, and he pulls with such ease!

Nath closed one eye, aimed high, and released the shaft into the sky.

Twang!

Ben watched it sail one hundred yards, two hundred yards, and out of sight. He gawped.

“Uh, no disrespect, Dragon. But you just wasted an arrow.”

“Well, it’s my arrow,” Nath said.
Clatch. Snap. Clatch.
He handed Ben Akron. “Come along.” He directed his horse in the flight path of the arrow.

Two hundred yards later, Ben said, “Are you going to find the arrow? A black sliver among the high grasses? It would be an impressive feat.”

Nath didn’t reply.

“We
are
going to try to find it, aren’t we? Aren’t we, Dragon? Brenwar will be mad.”

“He’s always mad.”

“I suppose,” Ben said. “Does he have a difference between mad and happy?”

Nath was smiling.

“I guess if he’s happy, he’ll let you know.”

Ben looked over his shoulder. Brenwar and Bayzog were far behind.

“Have you ever seen him smile or laugh?”

“He’s always told me that he does it on the inside. ‘The inside matters more than the out,’ he says. I think he’d been drinking when he first said that.” Nath pulled his horse to a stop. An elk with a great rack of horns lay dead on the grass with an arrow in its heart.

“Impossible!” Ben exclaimed, getting off his horse.

“I told you I had good eyes.” Nath slapped Ben’s shoulder. “Be of good cheer. You will all eat well tonight.”

“What about you?” Ben said.

Nath turned to him and said, “I need Fang.”

Ben unstrapped it from his shoulder and handed it over.

Nath buckled the sword’s scabbard around his waist and climbed back on his horse.

“I’ll be back,” Nath said.

“Where are you going?” Ben said.

Nath dug his heels in and rode away.

***

“Where’s he going?” Brenwar said, frowning. “Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I’d like to see you stop him,” Ben replied. “Don’t worry, he’ll be back. I think.”

CHAPTER 3

Sasha sighed.

“What is it, Mother?” asked her eldest son, Rerry.

Rerry was a fine young part elf, little more than twenty years old. He had sandy hair and violet eyes like his father and was spry and well-built, taking from his human side. He sat on a stool at Bayzog’s great table, rubbing oil on the blade of his longsword. He wore a light vest and fine trousers and always looked relaxed.

“I think it’s these walls,” she said, rubbing a trinket on her necklace. It was enchanted. Something Bayzog had given her in case of trouble. It sparkled like a star when it hit the light right. “I miss my walks in the gardens.”

Rerry hopped off his stool.

“Let’s go then.”

“It’s late,” Sasha said, brushing her auburn locks from her eyes, “and it’s dangerous.” She rubbed her son’s shoulder. “You know that.”

He backed off and whipped his blade around.

“I can handle it. I’m already a top swordsman in my class.”

“Yes, I know. You tell me every day.”

“Well, I am,” he shrugged, slashing more patterns in the air. “And many don’t like me, being so young and all. But I practice. That’s what being the best is all about.”

“Just put it away,” she said, pulling her sleeves down her arms. She shivered. There was fighting everywhere, and Bayzog was out in the thick of it.
I think Rerry inherited the bravery that Bayzog kept buried.
She yawned and fought it.

“Why do you do that?” Rerry asked.

Sasha looked puzzled. “What?”

“That,” he said, setting his sword aside and pointing out her mouth. He mimicked her yawn.

“What, yawn?” she said, feeling startled.

“Is that what you call it, a yawn? Do you do that when you’re tired?”

His words hit her like a bag of sand. She walked over to the great mirror that hung over one of the fireplaces and studied her face. Her eyes had the slightest hint of crow’s feet, and there were faint wrinkles on her forehead.
Oh my.
She’d never thought about it before!
Elves don’t yawn.
She fixed a glass of Wizard Water and sat down on the sofa.
I’m getting older while they all stay so young.

Rerry hopped up on the sofa arm and said, “Let’s go to the gardens. You need some fresh air.” He twitched his lips. “A horse ride in the country, maybe. It’s been years since we rode.”

It was true. They used to ride all the time, but now things were dangerous. The soldiers of Barnabus were everywhere, and Sasha and her boys had to be careful. Given their elven heritage, they had to conceal it. In the case of Rerry, his features were more man than elf, but his energy was extraordinary.

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Ah, Mother, you always say that. You can’t stay cooped up so much, and you can’t worry so much about Father.”

She took a drink of Wizard Water. The revitalizing nectar warmed her skin. She looked at her son.

“I don’t worry about your father so much. He can handle himself. It’s you and your brother I worry about.”
And myself.
I’ll be old and gray before they’ve even grown up.
She took another sip.

“Mother, we can’t live in fear of what is to come. If we live in fear, then our enemies win.”

“Is that what your father said?” she asked.

He sat down and put his arm around her shoulder. “No, that’s what you said about ten years ago.” He took her by the hand and pulled her up. “Now let’s go.”

She kissed his cheek and said, “You’re a fine boy, Rerry.”

“I know.”

She laughed.

“What about your brother? Should we ask him along?”

“No, I want this to be fun.”

CHAPTER 4

The Deep. Transparent darkness covered Gorlee’s entire body from head to toe. His mind raced. His flailing was futile. He couldn’t move.
What is this blackness?
Above him, Kryzak showed a triumphant sneer. That man hated Nath Dragon. Gorlee wondered why.
I should have escaped! I should have escaped!

Coldness covered him like damp snow. He couldn’t feel his breath, but it wasn’t lost either. The only thing he could feel was his heart racing inside his chest.
Thump! Thump-Thump!
The murky blackness began to move. Kryzak’s form swirled out of sight.

As if he were in a drain, Gorlee swirled downward faster and faster. Black waves rushed by his ears.

Madness! Pure madness!

His belly churned. His toes and fingers tingled at the tips as he spun in the vortex.

Nooooooooo!

It went on. Spinning and spinning. Minutes. Maybe hours.

Please stop! Please stop!

The spinning slowed. The darkness lifted. His body came to a stop.

Sultans of Sulfur! Thank you!

On hands and knees, he felt the cold ground beneath him. Holding his stomach, he struggled to rise, but the room was still spinning. He collapsed on the floor, spinning and spinning. Gradually, it came to a stop.

Finally.

He pushed himself up into sitting position and rubbed his neck.

Where am I? What test is this?

He tilted his head upward. A tiny round light shone impossibly high above him. The entrance.

“Gads!”

His voice echoed off the rocks that formed the inner ring of The Deep.

A blackness hovered above. It moved like a cloud. Bright spots in it stared down on him like eyes.

A chill crept down Gorlee’s spine.

Not again!

The blackness drifted down until it stood above him in a man’s shadowy form. A smoky arm lifted from its ethereal body and pointed down a great hall.

Gorlee’s eyes were glued to it.

A phantom!

There were legends about the phantoms of Nalzambor. A race in their own right. Mystical. Powerful. Keepers and guardians of many things.

Gorlee swallowed and shook his head, summoned his courage.

“Are you the warden of The Deep?”

It didn’t speak so much as it breathed a cold and eerie
Yes
.

The illness in his stomach returned.

This is horrible.

He glanced upward again. The Deep appeared to be as far below ground as the Great Tower of Narnum was above.

Dwarves must have done this. But I have no Brenwar!

The phantom raised its ghostly arm again.

Go … or … die …

Gorlee turned and faced the hallway. There were green torches—magic, he surmised— running as far as he could see.

“You know, Selene will be very upset if you lose me,” he said, chains rattling on his ankles as he stepped forward. “And I can only assume you are the only way in and out of here … so don’t oof—”

A blood-curdling cry echoed down the hall. Gorlee stopped, looked, and listened. He noticed one thing. The phantom was gone. He had never felt so alone in his life.

CHAPTER 5

Nath abandoned his horse and trudged into the forest with the scabbard of Fang in his hand. He eyed the finely-crafted hilt of the blade. Ornate dragon-heads with gemstone eyes stared back at him. He leaned it against a tree and stepped away.

Fang hadn’t been kind to him of late. He rubbed his palms. He could still feel Fang’s burning hilt in his grips. This ‘sword with a mind of its own’ had been made for him, but something was wrong. The great blade didn’t like him anymore. Not since his last long hibernation. And change.

He rubbed his chin. Kneeled down and eyed it.

“Fang,” he said. He grumbled and stood back up. “What am I doing?”

Fang had always been unpredictable. It unloaded its great powers when it wanted to and not when Nath wanted it to. He’d never had control of it.

They say I’m unpredictable too. Hmmm. Perhaps that’s it.

Nath walked over to the sword, took a breath, and pulled it out of the sheath. The metal was cool on his palm.

“That’s better,” he said. He cut the weapon through the air in circles. “Much bett—
ouch
!”

He jammed the blade into the ground and blew on his hands.

“Blast you, Fang! I’m your master, you are not mine!”

He kicked some pine needles off the ground.

“Aw, I don’t need you anyway! I can do this without you!”

He ripped a hunk of wood from a tree.

“Stupid sword!”

Nath was angry. He was hurt more. It seemed that Fang didn’t trust him anymore. Even worse, Fang was a blade that his father made for him. It was special. Fang’s resistance reminded him of his failures. It didn’t like the bad inside him.

“I’m not evil,” he said through clenched teeth. He took a seat and leaned back against a tree. “This is no way for a man to behave.” He rubbed his side. That nasty little splinter in his ribs started to bother him. He combed back his mane. “Great.”

Earlier in the day, Nath had felt all powerful. Stronger. Faster. Invincible. His confidence had risen to new heights when he beat the grey scaler. But there were more dangerous things in Nalzambor than grey scalers. What if there had been two of them? Could he have handled them both?

I am strong but am I not wise.

He needed every advantage to protect himself and more importantly his friends. He needed all of his friends. Fang in particular.

“What good is a sword that you cannot hold?” He eyed the sword. “Father made you for me, didn’t he?” Nath got up and pulled his shoulders back. “Didn’t he?”

His father’s strong voice echoed in his head.
You make things to serve yourself as well as others.

Nath stretched out his fingers and held them close to the hilt.

“I’m not letting go this time, Fang,” he said, bringing his fingers closer. “Not even if my hands catch fire.”

He wrapped up the hilt and squeezed. His fingers felt like they were cauterizing in fire. He screamed.

“Eeeeeee—Yaaaaaaaaah!

***

Wood burned. A small campfire glowed and crackled. All the faces around it were glum. Bayzog huddled in his tattered robes. Brenwar sulked and grunted.