The Legend of Vanx Malic: Book 02 - Dragon Isle (22 page)

He heard Zeezle, though. Over the rushing of the air, a long scream cut through the sky. Using his ears to locate the sound, he found his friend with his eyes. In the last few seconds they had grown impossibly close to the earth. So close, in fact, that Vanx felt his hope plummet to his bowels. Already Zeezle was at the level of the tower tops and there seemed to be no way Pyra could pull up and keep from crushing both of them headlong into the ground. All Vanx could do was clench his eyes shut and pray that in death his friend would find his way into the Goddess’s favor, and that Pyra could somehow pull them out of their headlong dive into the city of Dyntalla.

Matty stifled a scream, but not completely. Darbon was sure he’d made a yelp of his own. The sudden crash of force against the barricaded sickroom door had come as a total surprise.

Darbon scrabbled for Trevin’s sword. He had been sleeping next to Matty on the floor, waiting for the thing on the windowsill to leave so that they might use a curtain rod, one of the drapes, and the light of day to flag the ships in the bay for help.

Something crashed into the door again, this time into the heap of furniture before it gave way as the upper half of the panel cracked apart loudly. The grunting, growling sound of feral determination came through to them. An ogre was now smashing the debris out of the doorway in order to get at them.

Darbon didn’t hesitate. He charged forth and launched wildly into the doorframe with the sword. He saw a glint of sharpened steel and felt the graze of movement slide by his head, but the sensation of Trevin’s sword puncturing into and through the beast drew all his focus.

The ogre grunted and gasped out a gurgling, raspy spray, and then Darbon felt it fall away. He held fast to the sword and found that he had to pull with some effort to get it out of the creature.

“He’s done,” he said as he eased back over to comfort Matty. Only when the butt end of a wooden spear shaft caught him in the chest did he realize that something was wrong.

“Matty?” he asked, the sword clattering to the floor as he dropped to his hands and knees and eased over to her silent form.

“Luurrv,” she gurgled through a mouthful of foaming blood. The thrown spear had gone completely through her.

“It’s all right,” Darbon lied. He cradled her head in his lap and fought back his tears. “It’s going to be all right.”

“Luurv summon…”

“Shhh,” he said gently. He knew she was going to die. “It’s all right.”

“Pno.” Her coughing attempt to speak sprayed blood across his face. “Ear me, Darb-b-by,” she gurgled faintly. The strength of her will was fading. She would say to him what she wanted to say, and he would remember it always.

“Love someone, Darbuuuun,” she finally managed to whisper. “Luurv.” And with that, the final gleam of life in her eyes faded, leaving Darbon in darkness.

For a long time, Darbon was so caught up in his grief that he didn’t notice the other creature that came into the chamber; at least not until the faint traces of dawn’s light penetrated the cracks in the shutters and outlined the sleek black figure huddled over Trevin’s body.

Orphas had fought and killed the first ogre to climb the ladder and top the parapet. The second, though, was keeping his distance and standing guard over the ladder top so its companions could come up.

Duchess Gallarain had braved the open roof to try to pull Quazar’s still limp form over to the slight cover she and her maid had been using to watch over the prince. Unwittingly, by doing so, she had broken the spell Quazar cast over them, the spell that had been keeping them hidden.

She thought the old white-haired wizard dead at first, but a labored gasp for air that sounded wheezy and wet told her otherwise.

Faint traces of rosy yellow illumination broke the horizon and cast an eerie glow across the roof. Everyone was throwing long shadows.

Not far away, Orphas sent a white, sizzling blast that was so bright that it momentarily erased dawn’s light completely. It also obliterated the ogre by the ladder.

A grunted series of muffled curses followed the heavy thumping of bodies on the ground in the flash-blinded moments afterward. The duchess tried to see through squinted eyes, but only splotches of sapphire and ruby, and crazy white star bursts were visible. Beside her, her maid lay hugged around the prince, sobbing. It was no protective gesture; it was for the selfish comfort of knowing that she was holding on to something that wasn’t trying to kill and eat her.

“Augg,” Orphas yelled from beneath the limp body of a soldier the last of the rooftop ogres hurled onto him. “My lady, defend thyself,” the chrome-capped wizard managed to get out of his mouth. “Protect the prince.”

The huge, lumbering form of the ogre eased toward them, filling the duchess’s bright-burned eyes with shadow. Slapping with intense, brutal, openhanded blows, she swatted the maid apart from the prince so that she could draw his sword. As soon as the blade cleared the scabbard, the maid latched back onto Russet Oakarm as if he were the only thing floating in a storm-raged sea.

“I can’t see,” Gallarain cursed as she jabbed the sword out wildly toward the looming shadows before her. She didn’t know it, but the ogre was a good three paces out of range yet. Seeing the blade, it eased to the side, fighting to keep its blood-lusting excitement contained.

“Hold it off for just another moment.” Orphas grunted his way out from under the soldier’s corpse. “I’m coming.”

“I can’t see!” the duchess yelled more forcefully.

The ogre avoided her feeble swipe and managed to latch onto a leg. It wasn’t the duchess who it clutched, though.

The maid squealed out in terrified fright. The prince, her lifeline, was being pulled away from her by the dark beast. With a series of frantic, vicious kicks, brought on by nothing more than panic, she landed half a dozen blows along the ogre’s shoulder and arm.

With something akin to a snort of disdain, the beast let go of the prince’s leg and caught hold of her thrashing ankle.

A thin, keening shriek followed as the ogre brutally slung the maid away from the parapet. She landed with a yell-stopping thud in a broken-legged sprawl and began mewling incoherent sobs.

The duchess jabbed at the dark shape she could now make out beside her. The point of the prince’s sword found flesh, but only just broke the ogre’s green-tinted skin.

Orphas staggered to his feet and took a moment to take in the scene.

Standing with one of its huge feet on Prince Russet’s chest, the hulking ogre seethed at Duchess Gallarain. The duchess was in an uncertain crouch, making another jab at the thing. She’d stabbed it once, in the lower abdomen, just above its exposed nest of matted pubic hair. The beast looked none too pleased by the painful wound and fearlessly slapped the sword away when it came near. Its brutal blow sent the blade spinning out over the parapet wall. To Orphas’s great surprise, the duchess didn’t turn and flee. Instead, she let out a guttural battle yell and squared off with the massive beast as if to brawl with it.

Movement behind him caused Orphas to spin around, but he wasn’t quick enough. One of the two ogres that had scaled the ladder while he and the others were occupied nearly took his head off with a smashing fist. As he spun back around from the power of the blow he saw the duchess flailing and kicking out wildly. The beast had her lifted up by the hair and was sinking its jagged yellow teeth into her neck. Then it froze and looked up. As unconsciousness slowly rolled over Orphas’s mind, something huge and as red as the bloody pool under his cheek went streaking by at an impossible speed. He had no idea what it could be, but the fear it instilled in him made him want to flee.

I’m off to make a fool of a fool,

and a fool of a kingdom too.

I might lose my head to the kingsman’s ax,

but I’ll try to fool him too.

– The King of Fools

V
anx, with his eyes clenched shut, suddenly felt his body being pressed downward against the dragon’s back so hard that he feared his legs might be split around its great girth. He found he was fighting to keep from crushing the pup between his chest and the big triangular plate jutting up before him. He chanced a peek and saw the buildings and towers of Dyntalla streaking past them in a blurry whir. The sight was only a partial relief.

They were no longer flying toward the ground. They were skimming across the rooftops like a seagull skims the waves. Trying to look up without having his head ripped away backward, Vanx caught a brief glimpse of Zeezle’s blue dragonskin coat sparkling as it came tumbling toward them in a tangle of shiny hair, glittery sapphire scales, and skewed limbs. Then he went down past the dragon’s horned head and out of view.

When Pyra rolled her great bulk over, Vanx didn’t dare look down. The last thing he wanted to see was the splattered ruin of his lifelong friend. Just as quickly, Pyra canted back and threw out her wings. All this happened just in time for her to worm her body, like a snake slithering through the air, around a large building and up and over the stronghold’s wall. Then they were gliding over the rectangular farm plots spread out inside the larger, outer wall. Through the tears that were filling his eyes, Vanx noticed that most of the ranch houses were smoldering ruins. Pens that only a week ago were full of sheep or cattle were now littered with half-ruined carcasses. A pride of skittish haulkattens, feeding on the fallen herd animals, scattered like birds from a meal when the dragon swept over them.

When they glided over the great outer wall, Vanx saw the ruin of the western gate. Had they all been killed? Was he too late to save Gallarael? A wave of helplessness washed over him. He hadn’t made it in time. He’d failed.

From below, a somewhat breathless but insistent voice came calling up at him. It took a few moments for the sound to register in Vanx’s troubled mind.

“Go back! Vanx, send her back.” It was Zeezle yelling from where he was firmly gripped in one of Pyra’s great claws. “Back to the stronghold! We can still save Quazar and Prince Russet from the ogres.”

“Ogres?” Pyra hissed excitedly.

Hope flared to life within Vanx once again. “Yes, ogres,” he reassured her. “By the looks of it, there are enough of them around to keep your belly full for a year or two. And by the grace of the Goddess, you beautiful, magnificent, sleek, flying wonder, you deserve the feast of a lifetime.”