The Green Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 3) (12 page)

“The historian speaks the truth,” Edric said in a loud, commanding voice from behind them.

“Not you too,” Gloria said, not bothering to recognize the remark by looking back.

This time Gloria found herself bumping into the back of Elister, who had turned and stopped, bringing the group to a halt yet again. “They both speak the truth,” Elister said, his tone serious and his face stern, nothing like the jovial, child-like character that she had become accustomed to the last twenty-four hours.

Elister turned and continued on, leaving the rest of them standing in place. Diamedes didn’t speak and passed Gloria on the narrow trail, following the druid. Edric walked up to her and whispered in her ear. “A dragon killed his family many years ago. He witnessed their deaths.”

“Agon help me, I had no idea,” Gloria whispered back, watching the two men as they walked in front of them. “Please forgive me.”

“There is nothing to forgive. You did not know. Most do not.”

Edric motioned, and Gloria took his cue and continued on the trail in silence for the next hour. It took that hour, and another, before they reached the summit and found themselves straddling the hidden mountain pass.

“What is that?” Gloria asked, pointing far to the south where the Greenfeld lay below them like a carpet of green grass. Smoke was seen wafting up from the horizon, hardly visible but there nonetheless. The sun was already setting, and it cast a golden hue across the land.

“That is Vulkor, the capital of Vulcrest, at least a two days’ walk from here,” Edric said, coming up last.

“That looks like the war that our historian was referring to,” Gloria stated.

The four companions stood for several moments, listening to the sounds of the wild and watching the clouds slowly drift by far overhead, always their focus coming to the small wisps of black smoke at the very edge of the horizon.

A new sound approached them, very faint but familiar, and it brought a shudder to their souls—the sound of barbarians in pursuit.

“I thought you said they were a good three hours behind us?” Gloria turned to Edric.

“They were, but we have taken our time to summit the pass and you two needed your rest, so they have closed the gap to an hour now.” Edric looked back and then pointed down the trail.

“We’ll never make it to Vulcrest before they catch us,” Gloria said, doom entering her voice.

“We have already reached Vulcrest,” Edric clarified.

“I meant the city. What did you call it?” Gloria asked.

“Vulkor,” Diamedes said, not being able to help himself.

“Do not worry yourself, Lady Gloria of Giegenstien,” Edric began, speaking formally to her. “You will soon rest safely in the abode of the Arnen.”

“Where would that be?” Gloria asked.

“Home,” Elister said.

“I’ve spotted them. They are over th—”

The officer stopped in mid-speech as an arrow penetrated his skull, right in the middle of his forehead. It was a feathered wooden arrow, with a rather small but sharp iron tip that would be made in a small woodland town, not the shoddy mechanical manufacture of a crossbow bolt that the Kesh used.

“Hit them with your magic,” Solvang urged, taking cover behind one of the wagons loaded with barrels of water.

The group of Kesh and Ekians was gathered around a few wagons to the north of Vulkan, but they weren’t facing the city that they had surrounded. Instead, they found themselves facing north into a patch of trees from an orchard that belonged to a local farmer. There was an exceptionally gifted bowman that had taken out several of the Kesh military leadership, and this was vexing to them.

“He’s not alone,” Amsor stated coolly, despite the barrage of arrows that had killed several of his officers. The last arrow that had tried to hit the mage burned to ash in midflight at a mere flick of his wrist, pointing his staff at the missile, and a gently murmured word.

One of the three wizards approached the group from behind, where he had been stationed to the east side of the city. The Kesh had the capital partitioned and surrounded, one wizard per quadrant, north, south, east, and west. The mage had taken the main gate quadrant, which faced north, leaving the other three quadrants to his subordinates. Now, however, magical reinforcements were being called in.

“You called, Master?” the wizard asked Amsor.

“Yes, Kentos. There seems to be an issue with our ring of security around the Vulcrest capital. It is not safe.”

“The area was swept twice before we fortified our positions.” Kentos leaned toward Amsor, who had yet to look at him, continuing to peer into the grove of trees a hundred yards south of them.

“Your wizard is correct,” General Gores stated, coming to the wizard’s defense. “We had the area cleared by nightfall yesterday, and this grove was checked again this morning.”

“Are you sure?” Solvang asked from his hiding place behind a wagon.

Indeed, most of the group had cover behind some kind of small tree, wagon, barrel, or other solid item to keep them safe from the arrows that seemed to appear from out of nowhere, reeking silent death upon them. Only the two Kesh magic-users stood their ground in the open, appearing unafraid and unconcerned, at least for the moment.

“I rode the area myself, Solvang,” Prince Egden said from behind a small tree where the prince tried to stand, half-crouching to keep his head down and protected. It was not the most dignified manner in which to be seen for royalty, but it was effective at blocking any arrow from finding a royal mark.

“This is no Vulcrest soldier, nor a huntsman with a bow,” Amsor said, using his free hand to stroke the beard from beneath his chin. “Kentos, I want you to advance and clear the orchard. Kill any within it and bring me the bowman’s head.”

“Yes, that is a splendid idea,” Solvang said, also not appearing dignified by sitting on his rear with his backside against the wagon’s wheels.

“I can call a score of our cavalry to charge the woods,” Gores said, having the luck to be behind a lone tree that stood taller than the man, and the use of a large shield, though he was further to the rear and this did not sit well with the soldier’s honor.

“No need,” Amsor said. “Kentos will prevail.”

“Follow me,” Kentos called out behind him, and his entourage of three bodyguards stepped forward with their shields out in front of them and swords at the ready to their sides.

The group peered tentatively as the Kesh mage walked calmly toward the orchard, looking more than exposed with no shield and no cover. The first arrow arrived much closer to the wizard before his staff shot out a blue beam of light at the missile, turning it to ash in midair. The second arrow was aimed past the wizard at one of his bodyguards, but Kentos did not ignore it and also struck it down, leaving nothing but floating black dust for him to walk through.

“Impressive,” Solvang said, not minding or knowing if he sounded pandering.

Then something happened that surprised even Amsor. A woman appeared from around one of the orchard’s trees. She wore a plain brown robe, and her hair flowed around her shoulders and hood of her cloak. She held a wooden staff with a piece of granite rock on top, appearing very much like a poor version of a Kesh mage, though the shiny metallic staves and glimmering gemstones of the Kesh were more awe-producing than this peasant-looking woman.

Kentos stopped and eyed the woman suspiciously. His three soldiers did the same, looking to their wizard for a sign of what to do next. Kentos spoke. “Yield, woman, or die.”

His words were commanding, loud and clear, eliciting a response from the prince. “Not a very gentlemanly thing to say to a lady.”

“That is no lady,” Amsor said, eyes frozen on the woman.

“Surely she isn’t the archer we’ve been searching for, is she?” Gores asked, stepping out from around his tree, though keeping his shield up in front of him.

Several other soldiers, servants, and officers started to relax their guard a bit and adjust their positions to watch the event as it unfolded. Even Amsor took two steps forward before catching himself and stopping to allow his wizard to deal with the unexpected woman.

“By whose hand?” the woman asked, not looking like she intended to yield at all.

“Do you know who you are facing?” the wizard asked, his tone cool with just a hint of menace in it.

“I do. You are Kesh,” she said, adjusting her footing and planting the end of her staff deep into the ground.

“He’s not planning on killing her, is he?” Prince Egden asked the mage, standing completely upright and coming out into plain view to stand next to Amsor.

“He will if he has to.” Amsor continued to look at his wizard and the woman.

“Don’t you think that’s rather dra—?”

“Not now.” Amsor cut the prince off, holding his free hand out, commanding silence. Solvang didn’t speak but was waving his hand wildly at his prince, motioning for him to clear away from the Kesh mage.

Kentos leveled his staff, pointing it directly at the woman. “Then yield or face the consequences.”

The woman showed her first sign of weakness in her response, which sounded almost childlike. “I would like to see you try it.”

Obviously not the thing to say to a Kesh wizard, and his response was immediate as he murmured the words of a spell and loosed a bolt of lightning right at the defiant woman.

The lightning bolt hit her staff and was directed into the ground at her very feet. Dirt flew up in all directions, momentarily obscuring the woman from view, though another figure did appear from behind her and off to the side. A large warrior with an immense bow in his hand came from around one of the trees and appeared to want to aid the woman, but he stopped a dozen feet behind her and off to the side.

When the dirt and dust cleared, the woman waved her hand in front of her and coughed, clearing her lungs. “Is that all you can do?” she asked, smiling at Kentos and motioning for him to come to her.

The warrior behind her said something inaudible, but her response was clear to everyone, even at a hundred yards away. “I don’t think so, Wulfric. Master Greyson was right.”

The warrior spoke, again unheard, and the woman responded. “Well, we’ll find out soon enough, but in the meantime, I’d like to give this wizard fellow a taste of his own medicine, if you don’t mind.”

Kentos stood dumbfounded, having never experienced someone simply grounding his electrical attack before, and worse, acting so nonchalantly about it in the process. It was worse than confounding; it was humiliating for the Kesh wizard. He wasted no time in releasing his second bolt.

The results were pretty much the same. This time more dust and less dirt floated through the air, and the woman coughed less, seeming more prepared this time for the flying dirt. “He did it again,” she said to the warrior.

The soldiers and servants started to murmur amongst themselves, and a few even took the time to ward themselves against evil.

“My turn,” the woman said, raising her staff and waving it around in the air. She started to chant in a mystic language, which caused more warding signs by those in the Ekos group. Soon clouds formed overhead and a gentle breeze quickly turned into a strong wind. The wind grew into gusts that caused most of the onlookers to seek cover from flying debris.

A small wind devil accosted the Kesh wizard, and the man started to laugh, his voice carrying along in the strong winds. Soon his bodyguards and the other Kesh troops around the group began to laugh as well. Kentos spoke, his voice shouting above the din of the wind. “Is this all
you
can do?”

Indeed, the magically induced winds seemed to do little more than blow everyone’s robes, cloaks, and hair around rather unceremoniously, and with the wizard mocking the woman, everyone laughed as well, everyone except Amsor, who started to look above them at the clouding skies.

Too late, the lightning bolt seemed to come from the heart of the grey clouds directly above them. The clouds did not seem threatening; they hardly looked like they could produce rain, for that matter, but a bolt of lightning shot down from above and hit Kentor square on his head, killing the man and leveling his body to the ground.

The laughter and wind died down immediately. Amsor was finally spurred into motion and cried out, “Kentos!” while running directly toward the scene. Within seconds, he arrived, stopping to check on his subordinate, kneeling and placing a hand on the wizard’s head. A second later, he stood and faced the woman.

The warrior man ran up to the woman and grabbed her, trying to pull her backward, but Amsor was too fast. He pointed his staff at them and spoke. “
Ogon, Ubit!
”

The air shimmered around the mage and then ignited into a huge ball of fire. The fireball suddenly moved from in front of the mage, hurled toward the woman and warrior. The woman held her staff up and spoke, causing the wind to whip around them and deflect the fires, but they grew and consumed the entire grove. For a moment, the pair was lost in the intense flames of the magical fireball. When the air cleared, the pair stood from where they were crouching, their clothes and hair smoked, singed from the intense heat of the attack, and the orchard burned, causing black smoke to drift high above.

Amsor wasn’t finished. He drew a carved statue from his inner robe pocket and threw it to the ground in front of him. It was a carving of a beast with the body of a wolf and three heads. One appeared much as a wild dog or wolf, the second was scaled like a snake and the last one appeared like a giant bird of prey with a sharp beak and all-seeing eyes. With a shout and a point of his staff, a ray of blue light hit the statue and gave it an unnatural hue; it glowed a bright blue.

The mage stepped back and allowed the carving to grow until it stood higher than a horse. It was animated, and the heads started to howl, screech, and hiss according to its nature. The claws of the beast rent deep furrows into the ground, and it turned to face the mage. What the mage said next was in the common tongue and clearly audible for all to hear. “Kill them,” he said, pointing at the woman and the warrior with his staff.

The beast turned to face the pair and started to run. An arrow hit the creature in its body and stuck there, not seeming to effect it at all. It seemed the beast would reach them and kill them in seconds, when suddenly a wall of dirt formed between the beast and the pair of humans. It grew from the very ground and reached a height taller than that of four men on top of each other. The creature jumped and clawed, trying to breach the earth wall, but it was too tall. It looked at either side and then started to run east where a hundred yards further the wall was no more.

“Curse you,” Amsor yelled at the now hidden woman and the warrior, and he pointed his staff at the wall, loosing a bolt of electricity that damaged it, sending dirt and rock flying like shrapnel in every direction.

A voice sounded from the other side, a female voice, tired and perhaps afraid, but defiant as well. “Maybe next time, Kesh.”

The wind picked up and the clouds descended onto the land until they were covered in an intense fog. Confusion overcame the group of Ekians and Kesh until the fog cleared when Amsor started to burn it off by igniting everything he could find that would burn, including their own carts.