Michael Mathias - The Wizard and the Warlord

It was late on the second day when they saw the Zard nest. There were thirty, maybe forty Zard-men, all armed and wearing studded leather armor with Queen Shaella’s lightning star emblem emblazoned on their breasts. They were encamped in a clearing hidden by a densely treed tangle. Oddly, they didn’t attack when they were spotted. The Zard quickly climbed up on several of the large geka lizards they favored, five and six to a mount. It was then that the chase began.

Two boatloads of soldiers stormed onto the land, followed by a pair of breed giants, one carrying a dragon gun, the other carrying the long coil of rope that made the device so treacherous to airborne creatures. Bzorch commanded the rest of the group to stay on the boats. He told the men ashore to stick with their shipmates, but to each take a different way around the island. It was a wise decision for the men chasing the Zard on foot. They found that the terrain was littered with trap after deadly trap. Thatch covers fell away, revealing staked pits. Half a dozen men were impaled on sharpened bamboo spears that jutted up from the muddy bottom. Some of those who skirted the holes found their calves and shins sliced open by poisonous brambles that had been cleverly placed. The trail the group followed led right to a large snapper nest, and when the men were finally forced to retreat, swinging branches and sandy mud slops that swallowed one man whole, took their toll as well.

The dragon gunner got off a shot at one of the fleeing geka lizards. The forearm-length barbed spear arced through the air, trailing its unwinding coil behind it like a streamer. It struck true and the rope-man had the presence of mind to quickly wrap the free end of the tether around a nearby cypress tree before it snapped taut. The geka thrashed and screamed out when it was yanked to a stop. The four Zard riding it were thrown forward into the surrounding muck. An anxious snapper snatched one of them up in its jaws and slithered away. One Zard was left twitching and sputtering in the mud after smacking hard into a tree. The other two fled into the jungle on webbed feet, disappearing quickly into their natural habitat.

Of the thirty men who had started the foot chase, only ten and the breed giants returned.

Bzorch’s group was following the channel. He stood at the helm, holding one of the dragon guns like some great hunter. They didn’t see much. Eventually they had to turn back because the channel dead-ended into a cacophonous cove full of big, shrieking dactyls, who apparently nested there.

The other group had found the place where the gekas had crossed from one land rise to another. A small group went after them to more carefully follow their trail. Soon, though, daylight began to fade, and they were forced to rejoin the others where they had run the barge ashore and made a camp.

The geka the breed giant had impaled on his dragon spear was being butchered and roasted. Over twenty men had died on this first encounter, and a handful of others were injured. Bzorch had the wounded put on a small boat. It would start back to Settsted in the morning. Some of the men needed to be taken back immediately, but the breed giant knew that the boat wouldn’t get far traveling at night.

The returning trackers said that the geka trail led eastward, away from the Dragon’s Tooth. Bzorch grunted at this news and silently munched on a meaty haunch of geka meat by one of the large campfires. He was primitive, but he was no fool. He wouldn’t be tricked by the obvious misdirection. Already, the clever skeeks had bested them once.

There was no dry wood in these parts, and the grass that had been heaped on the coals created billowing clouds of smoke.

“Captain Hodge,” Bzorch said as he waved the thick smoke from the front of his face. “Is it a ploy to lead us away from the fang?”

“Aye, maybe so,” Hodge replied. It was clear he was beginning to respect Bzorch’s instinct about things. Being an alpha breed, Bzorch’s instincts were keen. He liked Hodge, because the man didn’t seem to fear his presence like most humans did. Hodge licked the grease from his fingers. “What do you suggest we do?” he finally asked.

“I say we split into two forces,” Bzorch said through a mouthful of geka meat. “One large group to move directly on the fang, and one smaller group to work out in flanks, just in case.”

“You want to attack the Dragon Spire?”

“If we chase these bands out here around the outer marshes, we just thin our numbers,” said Bzorch. “If there is a Choska roosting up in that hole, it will do what it has to do to keep us from finding it. They aren’t so easy to kill, and they can control the Zard.”

“You fought a Choska before then?” the captain asked.

“Killed one in the battle of Seareach,” Bzorch said, pounding his fist on his chest. “Killed a few hellcats and managed to get a barb in that nasty fargin black dragon, too.”

Hodge nodded respectfully. He hadn’t known. A flaw in Bzorch’s plan occurred to him, but it didn’t seem very probable that all the outlying bands of Zard would surround them and pin them in once they got to the dragon’s fang. He kept his thought to himself. Bzorch had probably already considered it. No doubt it was why he wanted to spilt the group in two.

A gasping murmur swept across the encampment. Men were pointing up at the sky and whispering nervously. Both Bzorch and Captain Hodge looked up, but nothing was immediately visible. Suddenly Bzorch growled and pointed directly above them. Hodge followed the breed giant’s finger. The dark shapes only became discernible because they eclipsed the stars as they circled.

“Two small to be a Choska,” Bzorch said. “And far too big to be a dactyl. Either a wyvern or a hellcat. Either way, something’s brewing out here, even bigger than King Mikahl suspects.”

“What should we do?” Hodge asked.

“I think we send two separate sets of messengers to inform the High King.” To Hodge, Bzorch seemed pleased. “The boat carrying the wounded, and another, hastier group, to ensure our words reach him. This is going to turn into very bloody business, Captain.”

Bzorch met Hodge’s gaze with a feral-looking grin that revealed the breed giant’s fangs. In the firelight, he looked far less human than he ever had.

Captain Hodge shuddered involuntarily. He was glad that he wasn’t one of those Zard out there, or one of those dark winged beasts. He was quite certain that Bzorch was going to enjoy killing them all.

The Abbadon left Shaella’s body lying in her guarded cave, at least for the moment. Outside, several dozen Zard and the Choska demon stood watch. All of them were on edge now that the kingdom men had ventured into their territory.

In the morning, when the men didn’t follow the trail he’d intended them to, the Warlord became miffed. He wasn’t disappointed, though. He had other ways to stop them. In an outright battle between them and Shaella’s trained Zard they would be easily eliminated. It was the reptiles’ natural habitat, after all.

Standing with his dark, leathery wings spread wide in the darkness of the Nethers, he let out a long, streaking gout of dragon’s fire. With the flaming pillar came a roar of summoning. In the yellow light, his elongated humanoid form glistened and reflected wetly. His plated hide was covered with a thick, glossy coat of greasy film. His legs were squat but powerful and gave way to an overly long torso. A barbed tail curled out from behind him, flicking this way and that whimsically. His hard-plated chest and well-muscled arms rippled, and the black claws on both hands and feet were as hard and sharp as steel daggers. His head still retained its humanoid shape, save for the open nose on the end of its slightly snouted maw. Long, ropy tendrils of hair hung crudely down from a face which vaguely resembled Gerard Skyler. They were still Gerard’s eyes. They were the size of melons, but they were perfectly human. Only a tiny bit of the once hopeful and good-hearted boy’s mentality remained inside the beast of beasts, though. The look of Gerard’s determination, however, hadn’t changed at all.