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

“Well, Barnabus wants the gnomes back—” Nath said,

“And I say we let them have the gnomes,” Brenwar interjected.

Nath glared at Brenwar and continued, “and
we
won’t let that happen. Shum, have your Rangers keep their bows ready. I think Ben can help keep them off our backs.”

Ben nodded at him.

“Shum, Hoven, and I will go up.”

“And what will I do?” Brenwar said. “Stand down here and throw rocks at them?”

Shum glanced at Brenwar’s new bracers and said, “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

Brenwar looked at his wrists.

“Ho! I think I like how yer thinking, elf!” He clapped his hands together. “Come Ben, help me fetch some stones.”

“Look!” Ben said, pointing towards the sky, loading his bow.

Two grey scalers dove towards the rocks where Shum’s archers were posted. Arrows ricocheted off the dragons’ hides and horns. A third dragon slipped behind them. Arrows zinged through the air. Some found a soft spot, others skipped off their hides before all three dragons soared back high in the air. It all happened in seconds.

“They test our forces,” Shum said. “Rousting us from our roost. But we can hold them. The Roaming Rangers are outstanding marksmen, and our elven arrows seek their soft spots and slow their efforts.”

“Yer arrows need to kill them,” Brenwar said.

“Easier said than done,” Shum said. “I’ve seen dragons fly with a dozen arrows in them. I’ve even seen heavy crossbow bolts skip off their bellies. That’s why we go for the wings. It makes them mad, but it slows them.”

“Alright then,” Nath said, “then let’s get moving.” He then said to Bayzog, “And I expect you to come up with something to deal with those dragons before we find those gnomes.”

“I will,” Bayzog reassured him.

Nath nodded, headed for the cliffs. He halted at the sound of a blood-curdling cry.

“That was one of mine,” Shum decried. He rushed towards the sound, swift as a gazelle.

Nath kept close a half step behind.

In seconds, they arrived at the spot in the rocks were the scream came from.

“NO!” Shum cried out, rushing to his friend’s aid. It was too late.

The Ranger was mauled to pieces.

CHAPTER 17

The Roaming Rangers, steely in resolve, had long looks on their stony faces. Shum and Hoven knelt beside their fallen brother, laid on hands, and began chanting in ancient Elvish. As they did, other Roaming Rangers filed in, smooth in gait, bright elven steel on their broad hips. A dark fire burned in their eyes. They joined the chanting.

Bayzog closed his eyes and did some chanting of his own, and a magical shield covered the mourning Wilder Elves. He beckoned everyone closer.

Brenwar and Ben moved in closer only because Nath did, they were so entranced by the ritual.

Nath felt a pit inside his gut. He recalled the last time a Roaming Ranger fell. Shum. Somehow, Sansla Libor had brought him back from the dead. He checked the sky. There was no sign of the winged ape, but the dragons crowed evil sounds. Mocking. Taunting. But it was not them who had done this. It was something else.

Over a minute had passed when Shum stood up again and said, “He is gone.” Some of the Roaming Rangers lifted the bloody body of their brother and vanished into the woods. “They will return, shortly,” Shum said, watching them go. “And then we shall hunt this menace down and end it.”

The Roaming Rangers Shum and Hoven, dressed in heavy cloaks and woodland garb, stood broad and rangy. Long flaxen hair braided and beaded. Well-framed, broad, rugged as the wilderness they called home.

Nath had no doubt that whatever took their brother would pay, if he let them chase after it, but he thought that might not be the best plan.

“We have a plan to save the gnomes from Barnabus,” Nath reminded them, eyeing the cliffs while another dragon dove, landed, and began prowling the ledges. “And we need to act quickly, regardless of the circumstance. What do you suggest, Shum?”

Roaming Rangers were hard to read, both Shum and his brother Hoven. But what Nath could not see, he could feel. Anger. Anxiousness. The Roaming Rangers wanted to let loose on something. Nath couldn’t blame them.

Shum’s long fingers drummed the hilts of his swords. Eyeing the sky, he said, “You and I will still go up. Hoven will stay here and keep an eye on the rest.” His narrow eyes scanned the woods. “Whatever skulks in these woods, we’ll be ready for next time.”

“Are you sure?” Nath said.

“We are Roaming Rangers, young dragon,” Shum said, whisking out his swords. “We pledge our lives to the greater good of Nalzambor. Chaldun’s death honors his life.” Without another word, he sprinted for the cliffs.

***

Bayzog’s mouth hung open. He wanted to speak with Nath. Instead, he found himself gaping at Nath and Shum’s sprint for the cliffs. The pair of warriors didn’t slow, climbing the brush-heavy cliff-face like a pair of monkeys. He’d never seen men so large move so fast and fluidly.

“What are ye thinking, elf?” Brenwar said, holding a large rock on his shoulder.

“I’m thinking we need to stay close,” he said. “I believe our enemies are determined to divide our forces.”

“That’s what I would do,” Brenwar said, dropping his stone, “and I don’t assume I’ll be able to do any rock fetching without an escort.” He punched his fist into his hand. “But I don’t need one. And those Roaming Rangers need more armor on.”

“I thought they had armor?”

“Light armor,” Brenwar said, tapping his breastplate, “and not dwarven.”

Bayzog surveyed the spot where the Roaming Ranger Chaldun had fallen. A pair of his brother Wilder Elves had returned and begun covering all the blood with dirt. It left him with a sick feeling. He could still see the elf’s body, torn and broken. Just like Otter Bone and Horse Neck. Life taken like a branch snapped. He found Ben’s eyes.

“Let’s get our backs to the rocks and keep our eyes on the sky,” the warrior said, unhitching Akron from his back.
Snap. Clatch. Snap.
“And everywhere else we aren’t looking.”

Hoven walked over and said, “Follow my men and secure your positions.”

“What are you going to do?” Bayzog asked.

“I’ll be near.” The big elf hopped on his horse and eased into the trees.

Moments later, the other Roaming Rangers led them and the horses into the outcroppings near the bottom of the cliff. One laid his hand on Bayzog’s shoulder. His face was long and heavy, more so than the others. Younger too. “Stay close to the steeds. If trouble comes close, they’ll tell you.” He rubbed one under the neck and scanned the surroundings. “They were too far when the creature struck. An error on our part.” He dropped a heavy sack near Brenwar’s feet, smiling. “Perhaps you can use these, dwarf.” He drifted away, set his back to the bottom of the cliff, and loaded his long bow. All the Roaming Rangers Bayzog could see were poised and waiting.

Brenwar dumped the sack over and picked it up. Dozens of fist-sized round stones tumbled out.

“Was he being wise with me?”

Ben chuckled. “It’s better than nothing, and probably more accurate than the rocks in your head.” He nocked his first arrow. “I’m ready to get on with it.”

Brenwar threw the stones back into the sack and hefted it over his shoulder, saying, “Soon enough, we’ll see who hits the most dragons with what.”

With a tight grip on the Elderwood Staff, Bayzog tried to look past all the recent horrors he had seen. He was formidable now, and it was not time to get rattled, but he couldn’t shrug off the dread his body felt.

A spell, perhaps.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught another dragon diving out of the sky. A volley of arrows loosed.

Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang! Twang!

Pummeled and feathered, the dragon spiraled downward in a tight circle, crashed into the cliff, and tumbled to the surface.

The other dragons let out a feverish howl, folded their wings, and streaked towards the earth.

Bayzog summoned his powers.

Brenwar cocked back his stone-filled hands and roared.

“Incoming!”

CHAPTER 18

Running full speed, Nath traversed the ledges and cut into the grey scaler’s path.

The black winged dragon’s dark tail whipped fiercely into the rocks. Its eyes glowed with fire. It reared back, hissing. Eyes narrowing, jaws slavering, it clawed its way towards Nath.

He beckoned it onward with his claws.

“Come on then,” Nath said in Dragonese. “I have something for you.”

Serpentine neck down, horns lowered, it charged.

Nath snatched it by the horns and shoved its face into the ledge. Jaws snapping, the dragon thrashed and bucked. The awesome strength of its power tried to sling Nath off the cliff. He held on. Dug his clawed toes into the dirt and started shoving it backwards. The man-sized beast roared. Its neck jerked. Its tail flashed over its back and smote Nath on the head. Once. Twice. Fresh blood ran in his eyes.

“Enough of this!”

Nath slammed its head into the rock face. Once. Twice. He cranked its horns around and twisted the creature to its back. Its front legs and arms clawed at him like a wild cat’s. Pinning it down, he kept twisting.

“Yield!” Nath said. “Yield or die!”

The muscles inside its scaly neck strained and resisted.

Muscles pumping, Nath twisted harder. Its claws scraped all over his body. Blood dripped in his eyes.
It’s me or him.
He heaved.

Crack!

The grey scaler went limp. The glow in its eyes extinguished.

Lathered in sweat, he raised his fist into the air and yelled up to the other dragons, “Which one of you traitors is next!”

He shoved the dragon off the ledge.

“No mercy for him! No mercy for any of you!”

Nath had had enough. These dragons were vicious killers. Controlled or not. And he wasn’t about to risk any more of his friends dying if he could help it. He spat blood. Eyed the dragons. Some circled. Some dove into a volley of arrows and stones. Torn, he rushed for the nearest cave, calling for the gnomes.

***

Shum dashed along the narrow ledges, ducking in and out of the small caves. He hollered, whistled, and crept inside, but so far all of the shallow caves were empty. Fleet of foot, he sped to the next cave. A grey scaler dropped out of the sky, hovering in the air by the blustering power of its wings, cutting him off. Swords first, Shum darted in. Elven steel struck in a fury, driving the beast backward out of range.

Shum slid by and into the next cave.

In a second, the dragon had hemmed him inside. A stream of liquid fire spewed from its mouth.

Shum twisted away, lunged forward, and hacked into its nose.

The dragon retreated, filled its lungs again, and spewed dark smoke into the hole.

Blinded, Shum started coughing and hacking. He chopped his swords at any sound of movement. He fought to hold his breath but couldn’t. His coughing increased, and his eyes began to burn. His elven hearing picked up the sound of claws getting near. He focused on what he’d already seen and readied his elven blades.

His coughing stopped.

All fell quiet.

He hacked again.

The dragon pounced right on top of him.

***

From horseback, Hoven removed a short spear packed behind his saddle. He flipped it hand over hand once, lengthening it. A second time it lengthened once more, extending over six feet in length. It was a special weapon of the Roaming Rangers, elven made magic called a Dragon Needle.

Trotting through the forest with the ongoing battle ringing in his ears, Hoven scanned the ground. There were no tracks of the monster he believed killed one of his brothers, nor any strange impressions in the ground, just a gentle wind with the smell of death in it.

His steed snorted and nickered to a halt before moving forward again.

Hoven, heavy and well-built like his brother Shum, towered in the saddle. He was everything a Wilder Elf represented: stalwart, alert, formidable. An extension of the wild land he thrived in. Covered in skins, leather, and light elven armor, there wasn’t anything the wilderness soldier was unprepared for—until today.

Something had slaughtered one of his brethren. Something he could not track. It was as allusive as Sansla Libor. His mind ran through the catalog of everything he had tracked and hunted over the centuries. Giants and orcs. Witches and warlocks. Pixlyns and nymphs. Dragons and dalumphs. But nothing as curious as this.

He tugged on the reins. Something had pushed through the underbrush, and there were fresh drops of blood on the ground. He lowered his spear, poked it into the thicket, and pushed it aside. There were blood stains on the leaves. There had been blood on Chaldun’s blades as well. It was Hoven’s hope that the creature bled, but how had it come this far without letting blood until now? Perhaps it was Chaldun’s blood he saw instead.

He poked the brush and scanned the higher branches. Horse hooves stamped beneath him. The supple muscles in his back tightened. He could feel a heavy gaze on his neck. He eased his head around.

Large burning cat’s eyes locked on his, sending a chill through Hoven’s bones.

He jerked the reins and wheeled his spear around. The dragon cat creature was gone, but he’d heard a description of the strange beast before.

“Feline Fury … come, kitty, kitty, kitty…”

***

Dragons diving, Brenwar launched his first stone. The creature spiraled away, but the stone exploded into the cliffs beyond it. He grunted with approval. The mystic might from his bracers surged through his arms. He scooped up more rocks and started chucking them one right after the other. One caught a flying dragon square behind the wings. It squawked and spun into the cliff.

“Yes!”

Above, the dragons dove and spit fire.

The Roaming Rangers and Ben volleyed arrow after arrow.

Bayzog’s fingers unleashed shards of fire that blasted into the dragons.

They dove, spit. Fire charred the rocks. Burnt through armor and flesh. The fighting force held its ground. Unloosed everything they had, filling the skies with the roaring sounds of angry dragons. They were repelled again and again.