Fight And The Fury (Book 8) (3 page)

“Uh-oh.” It was one of those moments he wished he carried a shield. Flat footed, he curled up into a ball. “This is going to sting.”

Twang!

Boom!

Brenwar’s head popped up. The dragon was in smoking pieces. He twisted his head around and saw Ben charging his way with the bow held high. He was yelling something, but Brenwar’s ears were ringing.

“What’s that?”

Ben pointed and waved frantically.

Brenwar turned. The frozen dragons on the other side of the ice were breaking free.

Brenwar huffed through his beard and said, “No you don’t.”

He slung War Hammer across the ice with all his might.

Kachoom!

It blasted into the dragon’s chest so hard that it shook all of its scales. Its eyelids fluttered. Streams of acid exploded from its mouth. It struggled, squawking like a drowning animal. Droplets of acid showered the air, sizzling on the ice and everywhere.

“Get away from there, Brenwar!” Ben yelled.

“Stay back!” Brenwar yelled at the same time. He’d had enough of this. He was putting an end to the dragon. He stormed right into its path, ignoring the burning acid that sizzled off his skin. He snatched up his hammer and struck the wild beast again and again until it moved no more. He combed his fingers through the smoking holes that burned in his beard.

“Drat!”

The ice cracked between his feet, and the third dragon ripped its head out of the frozen waters. Its eyes locked on Brenwar’s. War Hammer locked on its eyes and sailed straight into its nose.

Krang!

The muscles in its steel-hard neck went limp and sunk onto the ice. Brenwar strode over, picked up his hammer, and finished it in one quick blow. He wheeled around. No more dragons. All three were dead. He saw Ben assisting Bayzog. The elf’s chiseled face was filled with pain. Brenwar headed over and kneeled down. The acid had eaten through Bayzog’s robes and into his flesh. Nasty bubbling wounds.

“Yer legs never did you much good anyway,” he said. “I’ll get the chest and see if we can stop that.”

“Thanks,” Bayzog said, grimacing. His face was beaded in sweat. “Feels like its eating right through me.”

“Brenwar,” Ben said, eyes wide, “your head is smoking.” He started patting it out.

“Stop that!”

“But?”

“It will go out soon enough.”

“Doesn’t it hurt?” Ben said. “I would think it hurts.”

“It doesn’t hurt as much as the sound of your yapping.” He eyed Ben. “Say, make yourself useful and fetch the chest.”

***

“That was a good plan, Elf,” Brenwar said.

“Thanks,” Bayzog said. He’d never been in so much pain before. “Maybe you can make me a suit of armor one day,” he continued, trying not to look at his wounds.

“Maybe,” Brenwar said, peeling the remains of Bayzog’s robes away from his acid-burns.

Bayzog sucked in sharply.

“But, it won’t do you any good if you don’t fill us in on the plan,” Brenwar said. “No good at all. Why didn’t you just tell us something instead of running off like ye did?”

“Well, I didn’t really have a plan. I just felt I needed to do something. I followed my instincts.” He surveyed the dead dragons. Ben had blown one up, and Brenwar had walloped the other two. Despite his burns, he felt good for playing a part in that. Too often, he felt like he did nothing at all. It was as if they were protecting him and he was never protecting them. “Seems it worked.”

“Aye,” Brenwar said, unfurrowing his brow. He laid his hand on Bayzog’s shoulder. “Sometimes you have to trust your instincts. Yours are getting better. Much better. Just not better than mine. I shouldn’t have let you go. I shouldn’t have let Nath go either.”

“You did right.”

“We’ll see.” Brenwar dusted off his hands. He’d peeled all the robes away from Bayzog’s legs. The flesh was nasty underneath. “Well, at least we have plenty of ice to put on it,” he said, doing just that.

Bayzog choked a laugh and wiped away his tears.

“Where’s Ben? We’ve got to get moving, help Dragon.”

“You don’t think there could be another dragon out there, do you?” Bayzog said.

“No, not after all that squawking they made. Aid would have come by now. The forest covers the racket farther out. I think we’re safe.” He stood up and peered through the forest. “Where is he?”

Bayzog scooted around. The movement made the pain worse, and the pain made him queasy. He squinted. Ben emerged from the overhanging brush. He had his fingers locked behind his head. Bayzog reached for the Elderwood Staff. Someone beat him to it.

CHAPTER 6

Things were coming together. It was no wonder the other dragons hadn’t come after Nath and the crystal gnomes. They were going to let the bull dragons do the dirty work for them. Nath wanted to kick himself. He’d forgotten all about them.

“What do we do?” Snarggell whispered. His eyes blinked continuously, and his fingers fidgeted. “What do we do, Rescue Murderer?”

“Stop calling me that,” Nath said, irritated. “Just be still.”

The gnomes, typically chatter boxes, were silent. They huddled together in the brush in some sort of protective circle. Snarggell merged with them, whispering quickly in Gnomish.

Nath paid them no mind. Instead, his thoughts raced through his memories of the dragons. He knew each kind’s weakness, most of them anyway, but the bull dragons didn’t have much of one. They were brutes: flying, fire-breathing juggernauts. Only the titan dragons, the hulls, were a greater match.

It could be worse I suppose. It could be raining.

The bull dragons had Nath’s scent already. He didn’t have much doubt that the other dragons had told them he and the gnomes were near.

“I’m glad I have you,” he said to Fang. “And that you are cooperating. I need you.”

The great blade winked blue. The hilt warmed in his hand.

“Let’s not have that again.”

The hilt stayed warm, not scalding hot.

Nath focused.
I have to help Bayzog.
He’d defeated the grey scaler without a weapon. Could he defeat
two
bull dragons, even
with
weapons?

Perhaps I can reason with them.
He smiled. Bull dragons were anything but reasonable.

Another pair of ear-shattering roars erupted, louder this time than the last. He could hear trees toppling. Branches breaking.

“They come closer!” one of the gnomes squealed.

Nath grunted. The bull dragons had the scent. They would be upon the party soon. He’d have to hold the dragons off until the gnomes made their way to safety. But where would that be? Up along the riverbank? He could at least catch up with them from there. If he survived.

“Snarggell, lead the gnomes up river, along the bank,” he said, turning, “I’ll hold the dragons off as long as I can.”

The gnome didn’t reply. None of them. Their bodies formed a tight knot of people.

“Snarggell?” He reached over and grabbed one of the gnomes. Its body and clothes had turned to stone. He found Snarggell’s eyes twinkling at him. “What are you doing?”

Snarggell’s stony lips retorted, “Surviving. Goodbye, Rescue Murderer.” His features solidified again.

“Blast my scaled hide!” he said, staring at the statues of bodies. The crystal gnomes’ plan was a good one, assuming the dragons couldn’t sniff them out and crush them. But at least they were safe for now.

I wish I could do that.

A fleeting thought of running drifted through his thoughts. He was fast. But that would only endanger others. He moved away from the gnomes to another clearing in the pines. The great trees swayed in the darkness. Timbers cracked and groaned under the power of the scaled bulk that pushed through them. The claws on Nath’s fingertips tingled. He wasn’t scared of any man, dragon, nor monster. Nor of death. But one thing did scare him: failure. Especially when the entire world depended on him.

Two pines crashed left and right, and the first bull dragon emerged. Huge. Bigger than a pair of elephants. The great horns twisted on its head like spears. Its face was large. Fierce and terrible. Red-orange scales shimmered like steel armor. Its mouthful of teeth a bunch of giant white icicles.

Nath felt its hot charred breath on his face. Heard its thoughts inside his head, in Dragonese.

“Well, what have we here?”

The second bull dragon pushed through. Just as big and just as ugly and terrible. The pair hemmed him in.

“Why, it’s the precious son of the dragon ‘king’.”

Bellies scraping the ground, they both came closer.

“Doesn’t look like a dragon to me,”
the first one said.

Eyeing Fang, the other bull dragon replied,
“Look, he brought us a toothpick. Now we can see if he tastes like one.”

CHAPTER 7

Bayzog’s lips drew forth powerful mystic Elvish words. The butt of the Elderwood Staff jammed in his throat and cut him off.

“Uh, uh, uh,” said the tall figure that held his staff, wagging his finger at Bayzog. “Not another syllable if I were you.”

Bayzog’s eyes flitted around. Tall stout figures held Ben and Brenwar at sword point. Their heads were all hooded, and they wore cloaks. Dark green and grey. One of them had Brenwar’s chest tucked under his arm, and another carried the bow, Akron. Bayzog couldn’t imagine how men so big had gotten the drop on them.

The one above him said, “Did you kill those dragons?”

Bayzog nodded, noting the strange accent.

“We killed those dragons, and we’ll kill you too,” Brenwar said. “I suggest you move on, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Says the fat bearded one,” the stranger said in a cool sanguine voice. “Are you a dwarf? You sound gnomish, but you’re too fat for a gnome.”

Brenwar shook his fist, snarled, and pounced. He grabbed the first hooded stranger’s legs and drove him into the ground. His fist came up and down.

Another cloaked stranger tackled him.

Bayzog heard his captor chuckling.

“Dwarves. Love a good insult. Love a good fight,” the stranger said. He eased the Elderwood Staff off Bayzog’s neck. “Enough!”

The two cloaked figures brawling with Brenwar skittered away, leaving the dwarf swinging at empty air.

The two figures, swords ready, kept Brenwar hemmed in.

“Enough,” the lead stranger repeated. “Secure your weapons. I’ve no interest in wounding old friends.” He removed his hood. Bright eyes and pointed ears revealed a stony elven face.

“Shum?” Bayzog said, shocked.

Brenwar’s eyes shone big as moons.

“Yes,” Shum said, kneeling alongside Bayzog. “Now, let’s take a look at those legs.”

“But, you’re dead.”

“
Was
dead. Sort of,” Shum said. “Sansla Libor saved me.”

The name pricked Bayzog’s ears. It had been so long, more than twenty-five years, since he’d even thought about the cursed elf king, Sansla Libor. Cursed into the form of a great winged ape.

“Is he still under the curse?” Bayzog asked.

Shum nodded while inspecting Bayzog’s legs.

“He’s only gotten worse. It seems the nature of this world hastens things.” The stone-faced Elven Ranger reached into a pouch and withdrew some multicolored grains, which he sprinkled all over Bayzog’s acid burns.

“Ah!” Bayzog exclaimed, eyes watering. “What is that?”

“Give it a moment,” Shum said, holding his long finger up.

The pain in Bayzog’s legs eased. He sighed as relief filled him.

“You should be able to stand now.” Shum extended his arms and pulled him up.

Bayzog fought his grimace.

“Try to walk,” Shum said, folding his hands over his belly.

Leaning on his staff and showing a grim smile, Bayzog limped along the edge of the stream and said, “At least I’m moving.”

“The dragon’s acid is often life ending. You’re fortunate we came.”

“We aren’t helpless,” Bayzog said, eyeing the dwarven chest that Ben now rummaged through. “Not that I’m ungrateful.”

“Maybe we soon will be,” Ben said, holding up a yellow vial that was less than half full. “Dragon took the other one.”

“Well!” Brenwar said, marching forward with his meaty hands on his hips. “Look who shows up after the battle is over. A fat-bellied elf! Ha!” He spat in the ground. “What’s the matter? Do you need us to track down your ape-king again?”

“Mind your tongue, Dwarf,” Shum said, glowering at him with steely eyes.

“Mind your business,” Brenwar fired back. “And get on with you, Fat Belly.”

“Brenwar!” Bayzog said. “Our friend now lives. Can you at least welcome him back from the grave?”

“No,” Brenwar grumbled. “He had no business dying in the first place. He just needed to hold his breath a little longer.”

“Brenwar, really?” Bayzog said. He couldn’t believe his ears. “You’re colder than a mountain snow cap.”

The husky dwarf made his way over to Shum and poked him in the chest.

“Don’t you die on me again, Elf,” Brenwar said. “I’ll bury your corpse myself the next time.”

Shum looked down on him with flashing eyes.

Brenwar picked Shum up in a bear hug and bounced him up and down a few times.

“Alright, alright,” Shum said, pushing Brenwar’s heavy shoulders. “It’s good to see you too, Dwarf. Now set me down, will you?”

Brenwar obliged, dashing the sweat from his eyes.

“Are you crying?” Ben asked.

“Dwarves don’t cry.” He mopped his brow again. “Now, what are ye doing here?”

“Yes,” Bayzog said, “I don’t believe in coincidence.”

“We were sent,” Shum said, gesturing to the others. “All of us. You remember my brother Hoven?”

Nearby, Hoven stood adorned in his riding cloak, elven steels on his hips.

“And the other Roaming Rangers came to heed the call as well.”

There were another half-dozen Roaming Rangers. These were Wilder Elves, a more rugged and durable kind of elf. Heavy bodies exposed to harsh elements of all sorts. Their entire presence was eerie, but welcomed.