Terry W. Ervin Read online

  Road Toad and I watched the cannons rotate and elevate, targeting the granite blockhouses. Road Toad started to say something else, but the panzer cannons thundered, interrupting him.

  The cannon fire slammed into the upper levels, penetrating the granite, sending showers of shattered stone outward. Screams followed. The panzers didn’t retreat, and fifteen seconds later they fired again, crumbling the upper levels.

  Men fled from what remained of the blockhouses. Souled zombies on the panzers directing swivel-mounted mini-cannon fire cut them down. They fired not just once but in bursts of dozens. The barking chatter drowned men’s cries as white fire darted across the river, into the defenders. I watched in horror. Even Road Toad had underestimated, believing panzer firepower equivalent to Crusader weaponry. I checked my equipment, expecting Road Toad to follow Pops Weasel’s example.

  Instead he said into my ear, “Look, Krish,” and pointed. “Lord Hingroar assigned an earth wizard to hold the bridge.”

  I’d never seen one, and hardly believed the descriptions until that moment, but a huge creature, a harnessed elemental spirit lumbered toward the bridge. The earth spirit summoned by the wizard manifested itself as a towering, fifteen foot jumble of compacted earth and stone. It resembled a faceless ogre, but larger. Forty yards behind the crumbling blockhouses a bonfire burst into flame.

  “Lesser Wizard Morgan made it,” I said, knowing the fire wizard’s magic would weaken as it crossed over the river.

  “All may not be lost,” agreed Road Toad, even as a third panzer rolled forward, angling our direction. It stopped twenty yards to the left of the center panzer before turning to face the defenders across the river.

  Mini-cannon fire raked the earth elemental, tearing off small chunks. The main cannons rotated, seeking to target their new adversary.

  “We’ve got to help,” said Road Toad over the near-deafening chatter of mini-cannon fire.

  “What?” I asked. “Do what?”

  “That zombie firing the mini-cannon,” he said. “Be ready to shoot him.”

  The panzer sat only twenty yards away, and both zombies, the one directing from the top, and the one firing the gun, were too occupied to notice anything around them.

  “When?” I asked Road Toad.

  “When I take out the commander atop the nearest panzer.”

  The earth elemental lumbered past one of the shattered blockhouses and picked up a piece of a fallen wall. With apparent ease it hurled the five hundred pound granite chunk, striking the front of the center panzer. The blow knocked the battlewagon back, denting its steel-clad front. The struck panzer’s mini-cannon fell silent as the zombie tugged at a lever on the weapon. But the main cannon fired, missed the elemental, and caused an explosion two hundred yards beyond.

  In response, from the bonfire a ball of fire arced skyward, across the river. It nearly flared out before splitting. The two flames darted down, searing into the central panzer’s exposed zombies.

  The elemental advanced one stride onto the bridge and hesitated before stomping a massive foot down, weakening it.

  “Be ready, Krish,” said Road Toad as he leapt forward and ran low toward the nearest panzer. When he was halfway there its main cannon sounded, causing him to stumble in his stride, but the mercenary continued forward. The cannon missed the elemental, and instead impacted against the already destroyed blockhouse on the right, reducing it to rubble.

  The mini-cannons had taken their toll on the elemental, leaving its surface ragged and torn. It stomped again. A bridge section fell into the river, leaving a jagged hole extending inward from the eastern edge.

  Goblins shrieked warnings when Road Toad reached the side of the panzer. The zombie commander, heeding the goblin cries, frantically looked around. I let fly with my crossbow at the mini-cannon zombie as Road Toad leapt onto the rear of the panzer. The commander held up its hands to ward off the coming blow. Road Toad’s swing cut through one forearm and bit into the zombie’s head.

  My quarrel struck the mini-cannon firing zombie in the shoulder, causing it to wail while clutching at the shaft and salt-laden wound. I was so surprised I nearly dropped my crossbow. I’d never heard a souled zombie cry out, its voice more shrill and grating than any human could match.

  Road Toad wrenched his sword free and leapt from the panzer, avoiding several hastily fired goblin arrows. He sprinted my direction and showed no signs of slowing. Although Pops Weasel had said as much, the sinking feeling finally hit; we weren’t going to make it across the bridge. To emphasize the fact, the far panzer’s cannon found its mark, hitting the earth elemental in the chest, blowing it apart.

  The central panzer, even without an exposed leader, rumbled forward. I didn’t linger to see if it made it across the damaged bridge. Instead, I dropped my crossbow, grabbed my spear, and fled. Road Toad pounded along the river bank three steps behind me and thirty yards ahead of two charging ogres and at least a dozen screeching goblins.

  Patches of stringy vines mingled with brush, and stands of willow trees lined the river bank. After two minutes of sprinting, covering a half mile, the ogres had kept pace but the goblins no longer screamed. They’d fallen behind in the pursuit. Even though my chest ached for air, I dared not slacken my pace. I wasn’t sure if the booming panzers had ceased firing or if the combined pounding of my heart and the river’s torrential flow drowned it out.

  Road Toad leapt next to me and then surged ahead. “Don’t stop,” he encouraged between breaths. He pointed ahead, up the river. “Help, see?”

  Over the river I spotted an enormous shadowy form gliding just above the tree line. A second followed. Road Toad shouted, “Hail!” and added a piercing screech, almost like a hawk’s, as the pair of dragons with riders whooshed past. I stumbled over a root, but caught myself before falling.

  I risked a glance over my shoulder. The ogres had closed the gap to ten yards. They advanced along the slick ground with long, steady strides. Maneuvering around trees delayed them from overtaking us.

  “Into the trees,” I panted.

  Road Toad labored to keep his pace. “No!”

  One Ogre laughed deeply while the other shouted, “Gaaff haw ne dubs!”

  “Grull…awik,” replied Road Toad between breaths.

  Although our pace had slowed, a dense stand of young oaks crowding the swollen riverbank promised safety—even if only temporary. The thought drove me on. We reached it five yards ahead of the lead ogre. It slid and crashed into the trees, breaking two at the stump and cracking several others. The monster bellowed in rage and frustration. The other moved to circle the small stand.

  I tried to slow but Road Toad dragged me on. “The serpent riders will return. We must be along the river.”

  Why? I couldn’t fathom. But alone, against even one ogre, I didn’t stand a chance. So I followed the mercenary, trusting his experience.

  We emerged from the small stand of oaks at a trot and immediately picked up the pace. The new lead ogre spotted us and, avoiding trees, angled toward the river—toward us. Maybe if Road Toad had Pops Weasel to support him he’d have turned to fight. But he only had me, a militia-trained farmhand. I’d even discarded my crossbow, although if I’d have carried its weight, I’d have been caught long ago. I still had the quiver of quarrels, but removing it would require shifting my spear to my other hand, away from the riverside and toward the brush.

  The ogre had misjudged our speed and reached the river fifteen yards behind us. A little further back, the ogre that’d crashed into the trees bellowed threats. “Nash haw dubs!”

  Road Toad looked over his shoulder but didn’t respond. Instead he grinned. “Faster, Krish,” he huffed. “Faster!”

  The ogre’s pounding stride closed. I strained with all I had, knowing it wasn’t enough to keep ahead of certain death. Without warning, Road Toad slowed, grabbed my collar and tugged me toward the river. “Jump!”

  I was too exhausted to resist and leapt after the mercenary into the river
. Immediately the current took hold and swept us back toward the ogres. I lost my spear as Road Toad pulled me under. The current carried us away from the shore, but not before the lead ogre swung its club down through the water and striking my left arm as I tumbled in the current. I dove to escape another blow, sending a sharp pain through my left arm.

  I surfaced, gasping for air and screamed as the river buffeted my broken arm. I didn’t care if the ogre clubbed me again; I had to breathe. A shadow passed overhead. I wasn’t sure if it was the current or Road Toad, but something drew me below the surface.

  I tumbled and swirled, struggling against my water-soaked armor and my arm’s numbing pain. The ogres wouldn’t get me. I was going to drown instead. I surfaced again, splashing and gasping. Deep, guttural, agonized cries echoed across the river.

  The swirling torrent hauled me under again and I didn’t have the strength to fight it. I clutched my right arm over my broken left and held what breath I had, fighting against the inevitable.

  Something huge clutched me around the chest, pinned my arms, and pulled me from the water. My body skipped across the surface as I rose from the river. The claw that’d snatched me held firm against my struggles, yet allowed shallow breaths. The narrow escape from ogres only to be ensnared by a dragon’s claw left me stunned. Breathing consumed my thoughts and nothing else.

  Wind whipped by. I opened my eyes. Below, fields and trees sped by. An enormous black claw with glistening talons held me, tucked tight against an equally black-scaled belly. The dragon’s gray, bat-like wings slowly flapped, adding height and speed.

  “Soldiers,” called the serpent cavalryman directing the dragon. “Relax as best you are able. We have a two hour flight.”

  “Ha-Haaa, Krish!”

  I craned my neck to see Road Toad clutched in the claw of a second dragon. He continued to laugh and enjoy the ride. I closed my eyes and tried to ignore my aching arm.

  “Krish,” called Road Toad a short time later. “We just flew over Pine Ridge. They’re evacuating.”

  I looked down at the town buildings as they diminished in size. Using the town as a reference I was able to determine landmarks from the aerial view. I watched as we approached my family’s farm south of Pine Ridge. My father and younger brother had hitched our plow horse to the cart. My mother ran from the cabin with a bundle in her arms. Katchia, my little sister, dragged a basket toward the cart.

  They gazed up through the early morning sky at the dragon carrying me. I shouted down, “Father! It’s me, Krish! I’m safe!” They didn’t shout or wave in return. My father held Old Lou steady while the rest returned to packing.

  At least I knew they were fleeing to safety.

  Chapter 4

  North Pacific Ocean

  2,873 Years before the Reign of King Tobias of Keesee

  “Captain, a second American frigate is in the area,” reported the sonar man. “Closing on our position.”

  “No matter,” dismissed the captain of the aging missile sub. “Our comrades will occupy them.” Besides, he was confident that an American attack sub already trailed his boat. He examined his watch. “Helmsman, bring our depth to fifteen meters. Man battle stations. Prepare to launch missiles.”

  I awoke to a distant dragon’s deep, throaty roar. Ours returned a more hawk-like reply to the challenge. I spotted the dragon ahead, the sun glinting off its red-tinged scales as it banked east. It was larger than the dragon that carried me.

  Rocky terrain sped by about 500 yards below. If we’d continued south I guessed we’d left the Doran Confederacy and entered the Kingdom of Keesee. As we approached a mass of tents and humanity, the dragons began a wide spiraling descent. I looked down to get a lay of the camp.

  Most notable was a string of eight dragons staring up at our approach. Two smaller dragons, black like ours, stood apart from six of the larger, red-tinted ones. Two of the reds had men scrambling on and around them, securing harnesses and enormous saddles. The dragons resembled reptilian bats, except for the long tails and serpentine necks ending in massive, horned heads. The reds each had a frill of long ivory horns pointing back toward the wings. The blacks had only nubs for horns, one above each eye and two protruding from the bottom jaw. The reds had slitted pupils surrounded by orange irises while the blacks had ivory irises.

  The dragons emitted threatening snarls as we passed overhead. Ours replied, staring downward. “Easy, Night Shard,” urged the cavalryman guiding my dragon. The voice rang confident, yet friendly. “One more loop around and you can join the bevy.”

  A second voice from above laughed. “Prince Reveron, don’t forget the mercenaries in the clutches of our fell beasts.”

  My jaw dropped. A prince? I turned to the other dragon carrying Road Toad. I saw the mercenary’s smile but couldn’t tell if he’d winked or if it was the wind buffeting his face.

  “I have not,” replied the prince. “I desire to get one more view of the men.”

  We circled the camp. On the far side, up wind, about fifty knights with squires tended their horses. Wagons and circles of small A-frame tents covered the rest of the area. Maybe eight hundred soldiers in chain armor, wearing the purple and gold of Keesee, made up two-thirds of the soldiers. The rest, based upon their assortment of dress and arms, were mercenaries. A number of freemen, equal to the mercenaries, tended to the cooking, supply wagons and beasts of burden.

  One large walled tent flying the colors of Keesee dominated the camp’s center. Next to it a smaller but no less exquisite tent flew the white and red of Fendra Jolain, goddess of healing.

  “I think my arm is broken,” I shouted to Road Toad, who still appeared to be enjoying himself.

  His smile faded for a second. “Stick with me, Krish. I’ll see that you’re taken care of.” He paused, then added without mirth as the dragons descended. “You can trust me.”

  Night Shard pulled up and flapped its leathery wings, buffeting the ground before dropping me next to Road Toad on a stack of cut brush. The tangle of branches cushioned my five-foot drop, but not enough to avoid reawaking the pain in my broken arm.

  I gasped and grunted, straining to keep quiet while enduring the shooting pain.

  Road Toad rolled over but had trouble moving his arms. The dragon’s grip had numbed his as well as mine. “Just lay still a minute, Krish. Let me get my blood flowing and I’ll help you down and we’ll get you to a healer.”

  Militia generally had low priority for healing, but I’d followed Road Toad thus far and was still alive. “Thanks,” I said weakly through clenched teeth. “An ogre clubbed me in the river.”

  “Just about any farmhand can run well enough,” said Road Toad. “But you kept your wits where most wouldn’t have.” When I didn’t respond he shook his arms and sat up. “Good thing ol’ Pops Weasel took off when he did. Knowing when to duck out is why he’s been around so long.”

  I rolled on my side to get away from a branch digging into my back.

  Road Toad watched me flinch at the pain when I moved. He climbed over. “This’ll be tricky.” He broke off a stick. “Bite on this.”

  “Is that you, Major Jadd?” called a surprised voice. It sounded like the serpent cavalryman prince upon Night Shard. When we both turned to see who’d spoken he continued, “It was dark, but I had a hunch it was so.”

  I didn’t know what to say or do. Road Toad removed his helmet and bowed. I did the same though it hurt my arm. Then I remembered to spit out the stick.

  “Prince Reveron,” said Road Toad solemnly, trying to slide off the brush pile.

  The prince, dressed in fine chain mail and breastplate painted purple and gold, stood at the base of the pile. He’d removed his black plumed helmet, revealing a youthful face framed by short dark hair. His wispy beard and mustache had faded to white—almost translucent. What stood out the most were his piercing blue eyes. Behind the prince another cavalryman held the reins to Night Shard, leading it toward the bevy.

  The prince raised his hand to
Road Toad. “Hold where you are.” He then looked to me. “Are you injured, soldier? I witnessed an ogre striking at you in the river.”

  I didn’t know how to respond. What should a farmer—militia soldier—say to a prince? I decided to address him as Road Toad did, although the prince apparently knew the mercenary. “I ahh, I am, Prince Reveron.” I continued to stare at the branches and brambles upon which I sat.

  “He believes his left arm is broken, Prince,” added Road Toad.

  “What is your name, soldier?” asked the prince.

  “I am Krish, Prince Reveron. Son of Thurmond, of Pine Ridge, serving in the militia of Lord Hingroar of the Doran Confederacy.”

  Prince Reveron nodded and, clapping Road Toad on the shoulder, said, “Let me assist you in lowering a fellow soldier from this drop pile. Then, Major Jadd, take Krish to the healer. If they give you trouble, inform them you are there upon my request. Afterwards, report to my tent. I wish to hear your assessment of the new weapons the enemy has deployed.” He chuckled. “And how you found yourself on the wrong side of the river, pursued by ogres.”

  Road Toad bowed his head again. “It will be done, Prince.”

  “Major Jadd, I am not my brother. I fear he treated you badly, as does my father.”

  Together they guided my descent. I held my arm against my chest and grimaced, refusing to cry out in front of the prince.

  “The expression on your face indicates your injury is quite painful, Militiaman Krish,” commented the prince. “Will you and Major Jadd be able to make it to the healer? If not, I will summon assistance.”

  “Thank you for the offer, Prince,” said Road Toad, “but Krish is made of stern stuff.”

  “Very good.” Without further comment Prince Reveron turned and strode back toward the string of dragons.

  I wanted to ask Road Toad how the prince knew him and a few other questions, but as my arm regained full circulation, it began to ache and throb with increased intensity.