The Chronicles of Dragon Collection (Series 1 Omnibus, Books 1-10) (3 page)

CHAPTER 5

The more he kept talking, the smaller I felt. It was a big part of the reason that I didn’t come home to visit too much. He told me about the Dragon Wars, where one brood of dragons battled another for the sake of mankind. Every race—man, elf, dwarf, gnolls, orcs, and ogres—had been in danger those days, but the dragons, the good ones like my father, won out. It had all happened long before I came, and it was impossible to believe that there had been such devastation. Mankind, all of the races that is, had been on the border of extinction. My father had sacrificed everything to prevent that, and he had the scars and missing scales to prove it. Still, it was all hard to believe, that life on Nalzambor had been so cold and hopeless.

I stretched on a sofa, as soft and exquisite as one could be, and listened again. There must have been something I was missing. Why didn’t I have my scales? And yet again, he told me why he thought I didn’t.

“For every life you take, you must save another or more. It does not matter if they are good or evil; who can really tell? There is good in everything, evil as well ….”

I knew better: orcs were evil. Gnolls, orcs, and bugbears, too. And renegade dragons, remnants of the Dragon Wars, were, too. It never made any sense to me to let them live.

He knew what I was thinking. “It’s not just the orcs, Son. Men and elves can be just as bad. Have you not seen how they treat people? Would you treat your people like that? Outrageous.”

It made sense. I’d spent so much time among them that I rarely noticed anymore. Some of their kind, men liked, and some they didn’t like. They would feud and war with one another. Brag and boast about their riches, their kingdoms and princesses. I just laughed at them. They hadn’t seen anything like I had, so their commentary was quite meaningless to me, but the company was very entertaining.

“My father was the same as me and you. He made this throne, but this treasure was here long before he came, even his father before him. And like us, they were born dragons that turned to men. You are not like your brothers and sisters, nor was I. They care little for the world of mankind, but it’s important that we do. Men and dragons need one another. It’s how life is.”

I never really understood why dragons needed men except to make treasure, which was still one of those things I enjoyed searching for in my journeys. I met many great men, elves, and dwarves, but I never saw any reason we needed them. They tended sheep and cattle. Made objects that I assumed dragons were too big to craft. That was another thing. I never saw a dragon build anything.

“When I was your age, I was a bigger man, stronger, faster than the others. Our dragon hearts account for that. Like a horse's times two. I was cocky, too, for a while. I befriended the dwarves and learned about blacksmithing and forged the sword you’ve become so fond of over the years.”

I jumped to my feet.

“You made Fang?”

“Indeed.”

“But, if you weren’t supposed to kill anybody, then why did you make the sword?”

“Because it’s a symbol of truth, hope, and strength. The men respected a man that swung a blade. And I never said you couldn’t kill, just that it’s only a last resort. But again, take a life, safe a life or more.”

“How many did you kill?”

“Enough to remember each and every one. Seeing life diminishing in a dying creature's eyes is a sad thing indeed. We are here to save lives, not take them.”

I thought about that.

“But don’t we save lives when we take the lives of those endangering others?”

“How can you know for sure? At what cost, Son? Men will always fight and feud, whether we help them or not. They’ll listen for a while, then wage war with one another. In all of your heroics, how much have you really changed?”

It was true. Battles were won and lost. Good men died, and bad ones lived. Evil withered in the dirt only to rise again into a strong and mighty tower. There was nothing that held it back for long. Not war. Not power. Not peace. This was the part that gave me a headache. Holding back against evil, the despicable beast.

“Save the ones you can, Son. Expect no rewards nor thank-yous, and move on, which I don’t think you are very eager to do.”

I liked being with people, but they aged quickly, and sooner or later I would always have to move on. It was hard to watch them fight so hard for a life that wasn’t long lasting. And maybe that was what I liked most about men. Every day mattered to them. Each one was new, never the same, filled with new adventures over every horizon. Men, good and bad, knew how to live.

I let out a long sigh. I still had no idea how to get my scales.

“I can see in your eyes that you are frustrated, Nath—”

“NO! Don't say it again!” I held my hands up.

“Sorry, Son. You should stay among your brothers and sisters awhile. I’d enjoy your company. Maybe my guidance will sink in.”

He was talking another hundred years at least.

“No,” I stammered, a good bit angry at myself, “I want to earn my scales. I want to be a dragon!”

My father leaned back, dragon claws clasping his knees, and said, “Take the sword. The one you borrowed. It was going to be a gift anyway, but you slipped out of here like a halfling rogue before I could gift it to you. Take Brenwar,” my father’s tone darkened, and so did his smoldering eyes, “and do not return this time without your scales.”

“What? I can’t come back?”

An impatient tone took over his voice like a dam about to break.

“NO! Take with you that which you need. You’ve earned that much at least, but do not return without your scales.”

I shouted back. “Earned it for what?”

“Saving our kin. The dragons. Like I’ve told you to. Focus on the dragons. The little green one, Ezabel, was quite grateful for your intrusion. She sends her best. And she’s not the only one.”

“Really?” I said, surprised.

“Son, have I ever lied?”

“No,” I said.

“Or been wrong?”

I remained silent. I wasn’t ready yet to admit that, so I shrugged.

My father shook his neck, a column of red armor over pure muscle. Then he said, “I don’t just sit here as you think and leave every once in a while to gorge myself on cattle. I do many things you aren’t aware of. I see things that you cannot.”

That was new, but I wasn’t so sure I believed it. If he ever did pop out of the mountain, I was certain the entire world would know; each and every being would be screaming like the world was on fire. I know that I would be if I wasn’t his son. Then I realized he’d gotten me off track.

“Am I really banished as you say?” I asked, unable to disguise my worry.

“Yes,” he said, his voice stern. “It’s time you decided. Do you want to be a dragon or a man? Which is more important to you, Son?”

It was a hard question to answer, and it shouldn’t have been. Among the dragons, I wasn’t so special, but among the people, I stood out. The women, smelling like blossoming rosebuds, running their delicate fingers in my hair, whispering words in my ear that would make a bugbear blush. I liked it.

And the elves, when you came across them, were so pure and delicate in beauty. Their mannerisms were quaint, direct, their cores as strong as deep tree roots. A bit arrogant, though, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy humbling them from time to time.

The dwarves, brash and bold, like my dearest friend Brenwar, were the fiercest fighters and stubbornest competitors of all. They were hardy, grim, and a little mirthful, and I found nothing but comfort among their kind.

“Ahem.” My father interrupted my thoughts. “Do you really have to think about it so much? By now the choice should be clear!”

I waved my hands up in front of me, saying, “Oh, no-no-no, Father. It’s dragons. I want to be with the dragons. It’s just that I find myself feeling so sorry for the others.” I lied to some small degree. I also wasn’t so sure I wanted to sit where he sat forever, even with all the treasures of the world at my feet. There had to be more to what he did.

Father lowered his head all the way to the floor, his face a dozen feet from mine, hitting me with a snort of hot air. I felt like an insect when he said, “I’ve been in your shoes and walked the same path, and I know what you are thinking. You think like a man. It’s time to grow up and think like a dragon. Now, with all my heart and wisdom, it is time for me to go. Take care, Son.”

He reared up, went around the throne, and melded into an enormous mural of himself that was painted brilliantly on the wall. All of a sudden I felt alone. His presence, for the first time in my life, seemed gone. It was clear that he was serious about my scales, and I’d better be getting serious as well.

I spent the next few hours shuffling through the piles, loading a sack with anything I thought might help me, knowing full well it was up to me, no matter how many tricks I had in my pack. I departed, taking one last long look back at the mural of my father and wishing that I was on the other side of the grand painting as well. Brenwar awaited me, leaning against a wall, arms folded over his barrel chest, bushy black brows raised with alarm.

“You live!” he said, more in a grumble, but a surprised one.

“Ha! You didn’t really think he’d kill me, did you?”

“I would’ve.”

“For what?” I demanded.

Brenwar slammed my scabbarded sword into my chest.

“For stealing.”

“Borrowing,” I said, correcting him. “Besides, it was mine to take anyway.”

“I know.”

“You did?” I said, surprised. “But how di—”

“Just keep walking, chatterbox. I’m ready to go. I feel so blasted small in this place. And there’s no ale or dwarves…”

Brenwar kept going on, but I couldn’t listen. My mind was too busy wondering if this would be my last time at home or not. My scales! I had my doubts I could do it, but determined I was, and a good bit deflated, too. How could I ever be a great dragon like my father? I didn’t even have one scale.

Brenwar Boulderguild

CHAPTER 6

Brenwar’s stout legs were too slow to keep up with my long-legged pace, so we rode on horseback. Otherwise he’d complain the entire way. I wasn't usually in such a hurry, so I normally preferred to walk, but I felt a degree of haste these days. Northward we went, toward the five great cities.

The Human city of Quintuklen was filled with magnificent castles and shining towers that overlooked vast rich and reaching farmlands.

The dwarven city of Morgdon was a mass of stone blocks and metalworks, like a dwarven-made mountain, grim and impenetrable.

The elven city, Elomelorrahahn, which I just called Elome, the most majestic of all, was hidden in the fog and forests.

The Free City, Narnum, hosted all the races, at least all those not so monstrous, damaging, or tormented. It was a trade city where all the merchants from all the races came to do business, and I found it the most exciting of them all.

The most dreaded, not so vast or appealing, was Thraagramoor, or just Thraag, grim as a mudslide, crumb poor, and run by the orcs, ogres, and goblin sorts.

“Well,” Brenwar said, “which way will it be?”

The Mountain of Doom lay in the south, leagues and days from the others. The cities were each two weeks' ride from each other. They formed a rough circle, with Narnum, the Free City, hosting the middle. Everything in between was unprotected and dangerous land.

“Free City, as if you didn’t know,” I said, hoisting my canteen to my lips.

“I thought we were to be rescuing dragons and such? There’ll be no dragons in that city.”

“Ah, but is there not talk of dragons wherever we go?” I was grinning.

“I say we go to Morgdon first, then. My kin will be happy to see you again.” He stroked his beard. “Not so much as me, but they’ll be glad.”

Visiting with dwarves was almost as bad as visiting with dragons, except the dwarves were always working, drinking, smoking, or frowning. Their voices were gruff, their conversations short, but they also took time to host their guests. They liked to talk about the things they built and the battles they fought in—with vivid detail. But if you’d heard one dwarf story, you'd heard them all. I was polite when I said, “How about on the way back then, Brenwar?”

He grunted, kicked his short little legs into the ribs of his horse, and charged forward. “To Narnum it is then, Nath! But by my beard, they’d better not have run out of dwarven ale, else I’ll drag you back to Morgdon by your ears!”

I couldn’t help but smile as he spurred his mount, the hot air of the sun billowing in my recently chopped hair thanks to those dreaded orcs. It would grow back before we made it to Narnum City, where I could find an elven barber to refine it with a dash of magic here and there.

We traveled dusk to dawn, over the plains, through the woodlands, over some mountains, through some small lake towns, and well past the ruins. All the way we chatted with caravans and merchant trains. It was spring, and farmers, miners, and merchants were moving along the dusty and cobblestoned roads, taking their wares to every city in the north.

As usual, I heard the same rumors of war, for there were battles and skirmishes everywhere. There were soldiers from many races, all eager to lay down their lives to make money for their families. Brave men we met, and I admired them all. Of course, there were others, too, up to no good. Some spoiled and bold and others as crooked as a busted dog's tail. But I didn’t chat too long. I had heard it all before. I’d fought in wars myself.

Nearing the end of the tenth day, my hips were sore from all the hard riding, and words couldn’t describe my elation when I saw the tiniest tip of a spire in the middle of Narnum City.

“Brenwar! We’re almost there. Two hours' ride at most, wouldn’t you say?”

“Aye, I can’t see it, but I know the road as well as you. I knew when we were five hours away three hours ago.” He snorted. “I knew we were a day away a day ago. I see no reason for celebration. It’s not like we haven’t been here before.”

“Ah, it’s just better to actually see it. Having the goal in sight. Can’t you ever get excited about anything?”

“I’ll be excited when I have a barrel of ale under my bones and a full tankard as big as my head. It looks the same as it always has: not dwarven.”

Well, I was happy. The past few months I’d been outside the cities, tracking down dragon poachers and hunters. Life wasn’t all fun and games for me despite all my advantages, but when I went to the city, I made the most of it. And anyway, a place like Narnum, a mix of everything in the world, was where I went to find the ones who tried to hunt dragons.

This city in particular was different from the rest. A mix of everyone tried to thrive here, and for the most part it worked out. All of the races, good and bad, had a say in Narnum, which for lack of a better word was nothing more than a giant marketplace ruled by many dukes and earls that feuded with one another most of the time, paying little attention to the troubles of the people if they were not their own. There was never enough for most of them, and what they gained, they quickly lost. At least that’s how I'd seen it over the past two hundred years.

A tower rose more than three hundred feet tall, like an ivory tusk had burst from the ground. It was a beautiful thing. Massive windows adorned its circular walls where an outward staircase spiraled upward like a green vine. I could see tiny bodies moving and peering through the bay windows. I dreamed about the day I’d be able to fly around that tower, wings spread wide, soaring through the air. But for now I was a ground pounder, same as the dwarves and men.

The closer we got, the more people we saw, dozens becoming hundreds, hundreds becoming thousands as we approached the only great city that had no walls. A river flowed through the city from east to west. I could see the tall buildings, some reaching more than a dozen stories tall, but most were not so tall at all. There were guardsmen and garrisons all along the way. The protection of the city was well paid for. The citizens, hard workers, liked it that way, and I didn’t fault them. I’d want my efforts protected as well.

The roads were paved with cobblestones and brick. The markets thrived with activity as we trotted deeper into the city. A half-elven auctioneer worked the stage in the marketplace, selling pieces of jewelry to a crowd of excited onlookers. He was dashing, not as dashing as me, but his lips were as fast as a hummingbird's wings. Banners marking the neighborhoods fluttered in the air. Children played in the fountains, and some begged for coins. Women aplenty hung from the windows, whistling at me, to Brenwar’s chagrin.

“Quit ta’ flirting, will you! Let’s find a tavern, eat, drink, and make grumpy!” He was hollering at me.

One buxom gal was yelling my way, “Handsome warrior, will you come and stay with me tonight? I’ve the softest lips in all of Narnum.”

“I can see that,” I said, momentarily mesmerized.

The women kept calling to me, one compliment following the other.

One shoved the other, saying, “No, my lips are softer.”

“You are so gorgeous, and look at those broad shoulders! I will massage them all night.”

“Your handsome eyes, are they your mother's or father's? I’ve never seen gold in a man’s eyes, not even an elf's. So splendid and superb,” a comely gal with long lashes noted, posturing from her window.

I stood and gaped at all of the wonderful things coming from their painted lips. I couldn’t help myself.

Smack!

Brenwar jostled me hard in my side.

“Come on, Nath Dragon!”

I didn’t budge … spellbound. Flattery was a weakness of mine, something my father had warned me about, but it didn’t seem to ever sink in. I didn’t want to fight what they were saying and saw no reason to, either.

“In a minute,” I shrugged. “As you were saying, ladies.”

They all laughed and giggled as Brenwar took my horse by the reins and dragged me away.

“Fool!” he grumbled. “You’ll never learn, will you?”

“I hope not,” I said, waving at the ladies, whose attentions faded from me and coated the next traveler with their wares and pleasantries. I frowned.

“Whatcha frowning fer? You’d think you’d learn by now.” He thumped his bearded chest with his fist. “Next time, I’ll lead us in. You always go the same way. You’re as drawn to those sirens as an orc is to stink.”

“Am not!”

Through the city I went, my passions subdued, the sun dipping over the horizon. I led us into a less-traveled part of the town, through some alleys and well off the commoners’ path.

“Let’s try this one,” I said, pointing at a tavern, dark and dangerous, three stories tall, constructed of timber, and roofed in red clay tile. It gave me a shivering feeling. "There’s plenty of trouble to find in there." So in I went, oblivious to the stranger’s eyes that followed me from the road.