Slay the Dragon

CHAPTER 16.2 - ERYS

A gust of cool wind carried the sharp, sweet, and refreshing aroma of the pine trees. Birds chirped above, flapping out of the branches as Erys, Forsyr, and Vahlyr disturbed the silence of the forest. They walked over the dry road, heading south of Ormir. Erys did not know that human garments would be this bad. It was too tight for his body. The dragon scale armors they used to wear felt so much better than this. But he and Forsyr had to. They would be easily recognized if they still wore those dragon scale vests earlier.

“Are you certain about this, Val?” Erys said. “The dragon hunters might still notice the unfamiliarity.”

“Oh trust me, mate,” Vahlyr replied, playing with the small bag of coins he had stolen from Akim and his companion. “They ain’t gonna’ recognize you. I’ll handle the talk.”

Erys let out a sigh. The garment brushing on his skin under the boiled leather vest was driving him insane. He wanted to burn it. His skin couldn’t breathe. And the stink from Akim’s sweat, soaked in the garment, was the worst. Not to mention the heavy velvet cape dragging him off with the strong wind.

Forsyr slowly stepped closer to Erys as they followed Vahlyr from a distance behind. “My King, I hate to say this, but I’m still concerned about our safety. How could you agree to such a bargain with this tricky human? His fighting skills might show a promise, but his mind doesn’t. We’ve got no clue of what could he be planning for us.”

Erys took a glance at Vahlyr ahead of them. It was indeed a risk of putting their lives to a human’s hand who wanted nothing else but money. A huge risk, he could say. However, they needed him to get through the south as quickly and as safely as possible.

“I understand, Forsyr. But his eyes are on my crown only,” he said. “That enough gives us something to have faith in.”

“But, My King—“

“You might wanna’ stop calling him your king, old salt,” Vahlyr interrupted. “You don’t want to get anyone suspicious, do you? Call him your grandson or nephew or whatever.”

Two hours had passed since they left Ormir. The forest road they took had led them to the bottom of a cliff. Erys thought it was a dead-end until Vahlyr took them to a carved path and climbed to the top of the high ground. The burning hot sunlight of the afternoon shone on the wide plains of dust and rocks above the cliff.

The blue sky was slowly turning red, Erys noticed. The comet was near … and so was the war. Mondramyr Legad might be leading the whole Draconian Realm to Ormir Fortress by now. Erys needed to reach the palace the soonest possible. The less time it would take to get the orb, the fewer deaths would result in the war.

“You spoke of the mountain ranges earlier,” Forsyr spoke up, who seemed to be more suspicious by now. “How long shall it take us to get there?”

“The Ashfa Ranges,” Vahlyr corrected. “Just past the village of Rath. No more than a day.”

“Is it safe?” Erys asked.

“No place is safe, mate,” Vahlyr said. “But those ranges will give us an easier route.”

“You have been there already?” Forsyr narrowed his eyes as they walked.

It took Vahlyr a short moment before giving an answer. “Aye.”

“How many times?”

“Just once—heading here.”

“And for what purpose? What could a sellsword be doing at Ormir?” 

Vahlyr paused from his walk and turned to Forsyr. “You know me, old salt. I’m on the search for bounty … or anything worth of high value from the ruins.” Then he showed Forsyr the small bag of coins from Akim.

Forsyr shook his head. “There’s a huge difference between searching for bounty … and waiting for bounty, young sellsword … I doubt you’re searching for one in such an empty place.”

Erys stepped in between the two. “Forsyr, we don’t have time for this.”

“No, My King. This thief is only playing us.”

“Playing you?” Vahlyr snorted. “After saving you out there, you still think I’m working with the hunters? Why else did you think I stole their clothes and coins?”

“We did not ask you to save—“

“Quiet …” Vahlyr raised his hand to stop Forsyr from speaking. “We have company.” He said, turning his head to a distance ahead of them.

On the other side of the highland they stood in, a group of dragon hunters emerged from the edges. Erys counted … seven hunters were approaching them. The color of their garments and vests looked blander than Akim. These hunters must have belonged in the lower rank, Erys thought. But still, he shouldn’t take it easy.

“Keep your eyes down. And remember, don’t do anything suspicious.” Vahlyr reminded the two before facing the hunters.  

“What are you two doing here?” One hunter asked, referring to Erys and Forsyr. “Grand Mankor had called all the men in this field to track and capture the dragons spotted north.”

Erys and Forsyr locked their gaze on the ground. They never dared to look at the hunters as it would only raise suspicion from their eye colors.

“These two were called to report, mate,” Vahlyr said.

“And who the hell are you?”

“I’m a sellsword from Rath—and I was hired to take these men personally to the village.”

“Why? Rath’s already filled with dragon hunters. They don’t need two more.”

“I’m well aware of that, mate. But those scallywags wanted these two for a specific reason … If you want to know why … then a couple of silver coins could spill it out of my mouth.”

The hunter gave a snort. “Sellsword’s greed.”

Erys stormed his brows, wondering what the hell was happening.

Forsyr suddenly leaned over his ear and whispered, “My King, I knew it … this thief’s only taking us to the place of those hunters. We have to get out of here now.”

“Keep it down, Forsyr. Vahlyr said he’ll get us through the village.”

“I doubt it, My King. He said it himself. He’s working under our enemies,” Forsyr said. “I advise you now, as your Lawdra—we should leave.”

“We can’t run from these hunters.”

“No. But we can fight them.”

Erys hesitated. They were just too many. If he and Forsyr would attack now, then that would cause more trouble. But he remembered being told before of how tricky humans were when it comes to gold. He didn’t trust Vahlyr enough … and he shouldn’t. Besides, what Forsyr said was not wrong. He would prefer to handle fewer enemies now than being taken to a village full of dragon hunters.

“On my signal, My King,” Forsyr said before inhaling big air.

Erys’ chest tightened as his heart raced fast. He didn’t know if they could fight and run from these hunters. But Forsyr was right, he thought. These humans were all the same. Each man who wielded a sword meant to use it for dragons and dragons only.

Just before the hunters noticed their eye colors, Erys and Forsyr rushed towards the cliff at the edges of the highland.

“Now!” Forsyr blasted out raging fire against the group. The hot environment gave more power to the bursting flames.

Vahlyr must have sensed it coming as his fast reflexes helped him dodge the fire. He leaped sideward and rolled on the dry ground.

“Dragons!” The hunters immediately took cover using their capes.

“They’re escaping!” one of them said.

“b****y biscuits! What are you doing? I told you to stay still!” Vahlyr yelled out at the two.

While running, Erys glimpsed at Vahlyr, who was now surrounded by three hunters. The sellsword drew out his sabers and defended himself from all their attacks.

The other four hunters turned to chase the two. “Capture them!”

“They’ll outrun us, Forsyr,” Erys said, breathless. “We have to fight.”

“Just keep running, My King,” Forsyr replied. “We’re close to the cliff … they can’t keep up if we jump off.”

Erys took another short glance at Vahlyr, who was now fighting with the three hunters. They overpowered him as one hunter landed a powerful kick at his side. The impact shoved Vahlyr away, rolling on the ground and coughing dust.

Erys squeezed his fists. Just seeing Vahlyr being beaten had shot a pain in his chest. He was wrong. He thought Vahlyr was one of them—and now his mistake was making the sellsword suffer. Anger and regret boiled inside of him. He couldn’t just leave Vahlyr being beaten by those hunters.

“I’ll fight,” Erys told Forsyr. “I have to help Vahlyr.”

“What are you saying? He betrayed us—“

“He’s fighting the hunters off, Forsyr! He’s not one of them.” Erys didn’t realize it until now. He slowed down and turned around to face the four hunters chasing them.

Erys took a deep breath and transformed his arms. They turned into golden dragon skin, with sharp claws growing out of his hands.

“You’re mine, beast!” one hunter dashed and thrust his broad sword forward.

Erys faced his body sideways to evade, extended his leg, and let the hunter stumble past his foot.

The other three hunters charged as each gave a heavy swing of their swords.

At the first strike Erys managed to block with his claws, the second he blocked again but was pushed back because of the impact—the third caught him off-guard as the hunter had a secondary weapon—a dagger, aiming at his head.

Erys tried to turn his head to dodge—but the sharp blade hit and drew a red line at his cheek. Seeing the opening, he clenched his fist and struck it against the gut of the hunter, blasting him backward.

Erys winced as he touched the cut on his cheek. The stinging pain followed. Had he not reacted in time, the dagger would have pierced right through his face.

The hunters advanced once again and gripped their hilts, ready to attack him … But then they slowed down all of a sudden as they seemed to find a bigger threat behind Erys.

The hunters protected themselves using their capes, just before Erys spotted fire blasting at them. He turned around, only to feel relieved at seeing Forsyr. He came back.

“Go help him now. I’ll take care of these four,” Forsyr said, transforming his arms into red dragon skin.

Erys hasted to Vahlyr, who was still parrying swords with his opponents—his face and arms beaten up. One hunter charged to s***h him … but Erys made it in time to intercept the attack with his claws.

“Curse you, mate … you and that old salt only caused us more trouble!” Vahlyr grunted as he clashed swords with the two hunters. Their blades clanged loudly with every impact.

“I was wrong about you … forgive me, Sev,” Erys blocked another strike and gave a hard headbutt at his opponent, forcing him to reel backward.

Vahlyr spat blood from his bleeding mouth. “The next time you run again, leave the crown to me, dammit.”