Sunset of Lantonne (71 page)

Kicking off the bottom of the river, Raeln was swept downstream again, this time making it to the surface to gasp for breath. He looked around in a panic, seeing the landscape of the region racing past him. His feet could touch the bottom, but at the speed he was moving, he could not slow down enough to stand.

Rough hands caught his arm, and Raeln feared the undead that had been washed down the river with him had managed to get close enough to strike. He flailed, trying to free himself, and then realized he was being held in one spot against the current.

“Stop fighting me, you oaf!” cried Greth, tightening his grip on Raeln’s arm. “Try helping for once!”

Pushing himself toward Greth with little more than his toes against the muddy riverbed, Raeln managed to get his feet dug deep enough into the sediment that he could stand again. Rising out of the water, he thanked Greth and moved closer to the shore to avoid a repeat of the journey down the river.

Greth looked no better than Raeln felt. He was soaked and his hide clothing was battered. Patches of fur were visible, stained with blood and mud. Every weapon the man had been carrying was gone, and his quiver held little more than water.

Checking his own gear, Raeln realized his bow was long gone, as was his knife. The few arrows he had when he entered the water were gone along with the quiver itself. Still, he was alive, which was more than he had expected. He still had a sword they had recovered near Altis, but one weapon was hardly going to be enough.

“Are you alright?” Raeln asked, watching in amazement as a steady stream of squirming undead swept past them.

Greth snorted and shook his whole body to get the water out of his fur. “We’re on the wrong side of the river and a few miles farther from Lantonne than we were when we started.”

“Grumpy I’ll take as fine for you,” Raeln told Greth, grabbing him and giving him a thankful hug. “Thanks for not letting me drown out there.”

Before Greth could reply, a shadow swept over them both. The shadow took a long time to pass, during which a cry like an eagle filled the sky.

Running up the shore and searching the sky, Raeln saw an enormous creature flying overhead, blotting out the sun in its passing. He could not even guess at how high it might be, but even if it was far away, the creature was larger than anything Raeln had ever seen in his life. From what little detail Raeln could make out, the flying beast was four-legged and shaped roughly like a lizard with a lengthy tail and a neck nearly as long. Giant bat-like wings spread to either side, wider than the creature was long to help carry its vast weight on the wind.

“A dragon,” muttered Greth, letting out a panicked laugh that sounded dangerously close to a whimper. “Can things possibly get worse?”

“There are no dragons or any of the other old gods,” Raeln snapped back, though he could not take his eyes off the creature. “Everyone knows that. It has to be something else. Mairlee got you believing her stories. Dragons are a legend told to children, like bog wights and…”

“I’ve run from bog wights, you idiot. Not all legends are fake, Raeln. Just because we haven’t seen a dragon doesn’t mean they aren’t out there. Looks like the undead woke one up. Let’s hope it’s not on their side.”

As Raeln watched, the lizard creature—he could not bring himself to say “dragon” even in his own thoughts—circled back after soaring farther southeast. It wheeled about in the air and began a fast descent toward their location.

“Greth…” Raeln whispered, slapping at Greth’s arm to get him moving. Neither of them budged. “…is that coming toward us?”

The dragon accelerated, growing larger with each second. It flew fast toward where they stood, letting out another cry that felt to Raeln as though it had physical substance to it, making it hard for him to breathe. Within seconds, he could make out the glitter of sunlight on the creature’s green scales and the dingy white of its teeth and claws as it neared the ground and coasted directly toward them.

“Run!” Greth barked at Raeln, grabbing his arm and pulling him toward the woods.

They ran hard into the trees, trying to find some cover. All Raeln could see was the dragon, its claws a foot or two above the grass, raising plumes of dust in trails near the passing of each claw and battering down small trees that were in its way. It was so large they only managed to get halfway out from under it, and the taut green-skinned wings roared past over their heads as the dragon flew by.

Raeln and Greth slid to a stop to watch the dragon continue on, seemingly ignorant of their existence. It went straight toward the largest group of the undead upstream, undaunted by their numbers.

With a rumble, the dragon hit the front line and then flapped its wings to gain altitude. In its passing, hundreds of bodies and broken trees flew in all directions, scattered both by the impact and the dragon’s claws. Several undead appeared to cling to the dragon until they were far over the ground, then lost their grip and fell back to the plains with faint thumps.

“Is that enough distraction to get ahead of them?” asked Greth, punching Raeln’s arm. “We need to get moving, no matter how much we want to watch. I think it’s on our side.”

The entire undead army stopped where it was, the zombies reaching toward the sky helplessly in an effort to reach the dragon as it wheeled about and began another dive.

Running for all he was worth, Raeln pushed his muscles until they burned, easily outpacing Greth, though he made sure not to get too far ahead. Each time he got more than a few feet ahead of Greth, he slowed his pace to ensure they were not separated. As he fell back to let Greth catch up, a wave of heat washed over him, his fur almost instantly drying to the point of standing on end. The warmth baked his skin and burned his eyes and neck, and all he could think of were spells like those Ilarra had shown a sudden talent for.

The heat grew more intense, and Raeln drove his feet into the sparse grass to slide to a stop as Greth neared him. Throwing his arms around the other man, he threw them both to the ground and covered Greth’s face with his body while curling himself as best he could to minimize the skin that would be burned.

Flames rolled over Raeln and Greth, completely burning away bits of Raeln’s fur and clothing, and passed like a deadly wind. The air around them began rapidly cooling after, though Raeln found it difficult to breathe for several more seconds, as if the air had been sucked out of the entire area briefly.

Peeking out under his steaming shoulder, Raeln watched as the undead forces fell back farther upstream as a diagonal stream of blue-white flame poured onto the dry plains, igniting everything in its passing. A similar burned section of ground between where he lay and the river ran in a long black line and continued across the far side of the water. Steam rolled off the water, and the undead floating past appeared truly dead…and burned to a crisp.

Raeln looked up and saw the dragon—he barely even noticed he called it that—was flying past overhead again, smoke trailing from its mouth as it gained altitude.

“Going anywhere with you is hazardous to my health,” Greth told Raeln, shoving him off to one side. The tips of Greth’s fur had burned black in several spots, even with Raeln atop him. “Turessians, legions of zombies, and now a dragon. My father would say I need new friends if he’d lived to see this. He thought Olis was bad—he only got me into fights with other wildlings and the occasional hunter.”

Raeln could not find words and his mouth felt like it was full of soot. He wheezed as he breathed, watching the undead retreating to a more defensible position near some hills northwest of where he and Greth sat. The dragon continued to circle overhead, making two more attack runs to push the undead farther away. From what Raeln could see, the dragon was actively herding the undead away from Lantonne.

“We need to get moving again,” Greth told Raeln, slapping his arm. He stood up, then gave Raeln a worried stare. “Can you stand?”

Nodding, Raeln tried to get up, but the tightness in his lungs made it difficult to keep his balance. He stumbled, grabbing Greth’s arm to steady himself.

“You’re burned pretty bad,” said Greth, drawing Raeln’s attention to raw patches on his arms and legs where the flames had scorched his skin after burning away his fur. Blisters had already coated much of his exposed flesh. “We’re still a day or more from Lantonne if we hurry. Can you run?”

Raeln’s legs gave out and he only managed to stay upright by clinging to Greth.

Hooking his arms under Raeln’s, Greth said, “That answers that. Yesterday afternoon, I saw a camp of some kind between here and the city. I’d guess no more than four hours, probably past those trees in the distance. Do you think you can make it that far? They might have a healer of some kind there, or at least a doctor or herbalist.”

“Warn the city,” Raeln wheezed, his lungs feeling aflame when he tried to talk.

“Kiss my furry ass, idiot. I’ve kept you alive this long, I’m certainly not going to tell Ilarra I let you die this close to the city, assuming she doesn’t die with you. We’re going to the camp, even if I have to knock you out and drag you there.”

Raeln gave him a weak smile and did not even try to argue as Greth took most of his weight, helping him limp along. It was very slow going, but within the hour, they had put the undead and the dragon far behind them and neared the tree line Greth had indicated. Past it, Raeln could see the plains sloped down slightly toward Lantonne, with a vast field of white tents, wide fields of various crops, and several small wooden buildings spread out in front of them.

“Tents are probably refugees, slaves, prisoners, or some other kind of laborer,” Greth told him, slowing them so he could help Raeln down the hill. They soon reached the bottom where the trees were thicker and gave plenty of shelter for Raeln. With Greth’s help, he settled into a nook that hid him in shadow, making it unlikely he would be seen even if someone passed within a few feet of the trees.

“I’ll go ahead and see what we’re getting ourselves into and whether they have a healer. Don’t go anywhere. It may take me a while, but I will come back. If you’ve made it this far, you’ll be fine until I do. Stay alive until then,” warned Greth, waving a fist in front of Raeln’s face. “If you don’t, I’ll let the undead raise you so I can hit you for dying. Don’t think I won’t…I’ve done dumber things to impress you.”

Raeln tried not to laugh, but a chuckle still made him gasp and wheeze.

Despite being unable to help further, Greth took a long time kneeling at Raeln’s side, holding his hand while looking over the burns. Finally, he patted Raeln’s hand, got up, and ran toward the camp.

The first hour or two, Raeln lay in the shadows and concentrated on breathing in short puffs without coughing. He stared at the sky where it filtered through the leaves of the trees, watching the light fade toward night. He wondered if Greth had been captured or given up on him when the last light disappeared and the sky to the west took on a purple cast as the sun went down behind the mountains.

Raeln waited until the first of the stars appeared, and then he decided not to wait. He hid his remaining weapon among the roots near him, then grabbed the trunk of the nearest tree and dug in with his claws to hoist himself upright. Once he was sure his feet would support him for at least a few steps, he staggered out of the woods and into the nearest field.

Though none were near him, Raeln could see several dozen people at the far end, packing up baskets of gathered vegetables and making their way north toward the camp itself. One of them, a massive ogre woman, spotted him limping into the field, dropped her basket and ran toward him.

The grey-skinned woman reached Raeln as he stumbled and caught him in her tree trunk-like arms before he collapsed. Without so much as a grunt, she picked him up in her arms and began walking quickly after the other farmers, occasionally glancing down to make sure he was still conscious.

“You look worse than the others. Accident with a fire pit?” the woman asked, her voice thick and deep, her Altisian accent all but hidden by speaking around large tusked teeth. “You sound like you caught the drowning cough. I lost my husband to that—you should not take it lightly, little wolf.”

Raeln grinned at the name the woman gave him, finding it amusing anyone could call him “little.” All his life he had been one of the largest people he knew, but the ogre stood almost a foot taller than him and might have outweighed him by almost two hundred pounds of muscle.