Dragon Slayer 3: A Pulp Fantasy Harem Adventure Read online

  “But that’s the problem,” Adath said with a frown. “We need them to throw themselves at the wall. It’s the only way we can defeat them.”

  My eyebrows rose in surprise.

  “Sir Galfred told you how many men we had, right?” Adath asked. “Three hundred and fifty is enough to hold the wall, but the moment we leave the city’s protection, we’ll be overwhelmed. We need the bastards to come at us straight on and keep coming until we’ve killed every last one of them. Or at least enough of them that we can pick them off as they’re retreating. If too many survive, we’ll have to deal with the dragon’s minions roaming through our lands, destroying crops and killing our people. We’ve got to keep them coming at us.”

  “So if Zaddrith sees Irenya flying toward her minions, she’ll just pull them back?” I asked.

  “Precisely,” Adath said. He sighed and ran a hand over his bald head. “Much as I hate the thought of it, we’re going to have to hold that wall until we’ve dealt with them. Or until we come up with another army to take them from the back.”

  “What about the Blackguards?” I asked. “If we could get some men from Windwall here, they could attack from the rear and catch the enemy off-guard.”

  “That could work, but you’d need at least five or six hundred for a definitive victory.” Adath’s expression turned pensive, and he stroked the two waist-length braids of his black beard. “Even then, there’s the matter of the dragons themselves.”

  “You leave Zaddrith and Curym to us,” I said with a confident grin. I shot a glance at Irenya and Arieste, who nodded agreement. “You just keep the enemy grunts from getting over the walls.”

  “Easier said than done,” Adath muttered. “With the weapons and armor from the king’s armory, we’ve got enough to arm two-thirds of our men. Master Krantin and the rest of the smiths in Whitespire are working to produce more, but it takes time to forge good swords and spears.”

  “What if I could bring you weapons?” Irenya asked.

  Adath, Arieste, and I all turned to the red-haired woman in surprise.

  “Riamod’s hoard,” she said with a self-satisfied smile. “I doubt any of the other dragons on Iriador could match it. And it’s not just gold and treasures, either. I’ve got weapons, magical and mundane, tucked away among the rest.”

  “How many?” I asked.

  Her forehead creased into a frown. “Fifty, maybe more.”

  “Fifty?” My eyebrows shot up. “I didn’t see anywhere near that many weapons in your lair.”

  “You just have to know where to look,” Irenya said, and her smile grew wider. “I was always fearful of my hoard being stolen. There’s a lot hidden in places a human would never think to look.”

  “Fucking A!” I shouted and pumped a fist into the air. “Do you feel up to flying there now and getting them?”

  “Sure,” Irenya said with a nod. “But you’ll have to come with me. You’re the only one that can survive the heat inside the mountain, and I’ll need hands to help load up the weapons.”

  Riamod’s lair was set in the heart of a volcano, and only my fire magic would protect me from being roasted to a crisp. I wanted to go with her, but I couldn’t leave Whitespire yet. It would take a few hours to fly there, gather the weapons, then return home. I needed to be sure everything was ready for the enemy before I could even think about leaving.

  At that moment, two servants walked past carrying a heavy load of debris and rubble wrapped in thick canvas knotted at both ends to make a sort of hammock or sling. The sight gave me an idea.

  “What if you could do all the hauling yourself?” I asked. “Can your claws hold the weapons?”

  “Yes,” Irenya replied, “but I could only carry one or two, and there would always be the chance they’d fall out while I was flying.”

  “But what if we could make you a sort of bundle-thing to carry it all?” I asked. “You could load it up with weapons, wrap it up, and carry it all in your claws. Would that work?”

  Irenya’s brow furrowed. I shot a glance at Arieste, who gave me a slow nod, her face pensive. “It could work,” she said.

  “It wouldn’t be much different from hauling off a laden wagon or a full-grown ox,” Irenya put in after a moment.

  “Then we’re doing it!” Relief flooded me.

  I hurried after the servants, who had just dumped their rubble into the growing pile outside the palace and were returning to gather another load. I simply told them who I was and that the king needed the canvas, and they surrendered it without hesitation.

  I studied the canvas, which was made of a durable cotton weave. I racked my brain to think back to my Chicago Fire Academy lessons on the burn temperature of various materials. If I remembered correctly, cotton self-ignited at six or seven hundred degrees. How hot was Irenya’s lair? I doubted she could answer in Fahrenheit, but maybe there was another way to figure out if the canvas could withstand the heat.

  “When you were Riamod, how did you bring treasure to your lair?” I asked the red-haired woman.

  “In my dragon form, I can drag off a whole wooden wagon or cart in my claws,” Irenya replied. “Riamod’s minions, however, left whatever treasure they gathered in their raids at the entrance to my lair. Even they could not withstand the heat within.”

  “Did you ever haul anything wrapped in canvas?” I asked.

  “Of course,” Irenya said with a nod. “When Riamod’s minions raided human villages along the coast, they found plenty of what you call sailcloth or canvas. It was highly resistant to the heat of the cave.”

  “So, if you brought this with you, it would survive to wrap the weapons and bring them back here?” I asked.

  “I don’t see why not,” she replied.

  I led Irenya out to the courtyard, drew the gemstone, and placed it against her chest. With an effort, I tapped into the fire magic and willed it to flow through my arms, the stone, and into her body. I could feel my body protesting as the magic surged through me. It had been too long since I slept and using the power drained me even more. But I had no time to rest now. We had to prepare the city for the enemy.

  When Irenya stood in her full dragon form, I spread the canvas tarp at her feet.

  “Try to wrap it into a bundle,” I said and pointed to the knotted ends. “I can make the knots bigger if you need.”

  It looked odd to see a sixty-foot long dragon clawing at two knotted ends of a tarp, trying to fold them into a bundle. After the third try, she managed to roll it into a bundle, thread her claws through the two knotted ends, and lift it from the ground without spilling the rubble I’d heaped in the middle of the canvas.

  “You got this?” I asked and stared into her fiery dragon eyes.

  “I think so,” Irenya rumbled and dipped her huge head. “It may take me longer to sort through the piles myself.”

  I contemplated going with her. If I helped, we could bundle up the weapons and return them to Whitespire faster. But it wouldn’t shave more than half an hour off the trip, and the journey to her lair and back would take just as long. I might be better-served using my time learning the layout of the city’s defenses and see if I could find a way to beef things up.

  “We can afford to wait,” I told her. “A few hours won’t make a huge difference, but all those weapons will! We’re counting on you, Irenya.”

  She gave a little growl in her throat, then turned and took two lumbering steps before leaping high into the air. She beat at the air with her wings, and the wind nearly knocked me from my feet. I watched her as she gained altitude and turned toward the west, the direction in which lay the lands once ruled by Riamod.

  “Hard to believe just a few days ago, I was worried I couldn’t trust her,” I told Nyvea in my mind. “Now, I’m letting her fly away in her dragon form.”

  “Things have changed,” the voice from the amulet purred. “She has changed. You know that. She’s linked to you as inextricably as Arieste is. And not just for your power. For you, hero.”

  I smiled and turned back to Arieste and Adath, who had followed us out into the courtyard. “Well, that’s one problem down. Anything else that needs solving while I’m at it?”

  “You could pluck an army out of midair and bring lightning down on the dragons,” Adath offered helpfully.

  His words gave me an idea, and I turned to Arieste.

  “Think you’re up for a trip back to Windwall?” I asked.

  “Why?” Her brow furrowed, and she gave me a puzzled look.

  “Even if Captain Daxos and his men rode out of the city the minute we left them, which they almost certainly didn’t, it’s still going to take weeks to get here,” I said with a shake of my head. “Seeing that army and hearing how many men we’ve got to fight, I don’t think we’ll have that much time.”

  “So you want me to fly to Windwall and…?” Arieste raised an eyebrow.

  “Carry as many men back here as you can,” I replied.

  Both of Arieste’s pale blonde eyebrows shot up. “Carry men? All that distance?”

  “Yes.” I took one of her hands. “Look, I know it’s asking a lot. It’s a lot of weight and a long way to fly, so if you’re not up to it, no one will fault you.”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about,” Arieste said with a scowl. “Not everyone takes to riding on my back like you do.”

  “Ahh, of course.” I felt my mouth pull into a frown as I considered what to do. “What if you brought Captain Daxos back with you? He’s flown before, and I’m sure his men will follow him.”

  “Perhaps that will work,” Arieste replied. “But I will need someone human to come with me. Without you to change me back into my human form, I will be stuck as a dragon. I doubt the Council of Four would be willing to negotiate with me like that.”


  I drew in a deep breath as I tried to figure out a solution. Her point was valid since not everyone had gotten used to dragons being friendly instead of enemies. There was always the risk of a stray ballista bolt hurting Arieste, and it would be difficult to send a message to the Council of Four without someone to carry it.

  But Captain Daxos wasn’t the only Blackguard that had ridden one of my dragons back in Windwall. We had another who could make the journey.

  “Adath,” I said as I turned to my bearded friend, “can you take a message to the king for me?”

  “Sure,” Adath replied with a nod. “I was just headed there to give him an update on our progress.”

  “Excellent!” I clapped him on the back, excited. “Tell him I need a letter drafted to the Council of Four laying out the threat we’re facing. And, he needs to urge the Council to send as many men as they can spare right now.”

  “Should he include something about them riding on your dragon’s back?” Adath asked and cocked a bushy black eyebrow.

  “Nah,” I said with a grin. “I’ll let Sergeant Dai and Arieste do that part.”

  As Adath strode into the palace to relay my message to the king, I heard Arieste catch her breath behind me, and when I turned to her, I saw worry sparkling in her pale blue eyes.

  “He will not leave her side,” Arieste said.

  “That’s what I figured,” I replied and shrugged. “But I’ll just have to talk him into understanding the importance of this mission.”

  Arieste gave me a long, piercing gaze, then nodded. “They are in the rooms where we stayed when we first returned.”

  That surprised me. The rooms had been comfortable, fairly spacious, and some of the better guest rooms. King Obragar must have understood the significance of the arrival of the Blackguard and his captive in order to give them the chambers.

  “Then we know where to find them,” I said. I held out my arm to her, and she took it. Together, we walked back into the palace, up to the second floor, and into the wing the king had reserved for guests. The carpets, tapestries, and furnishings were simple yet elegant, in rich purples, reds, and earthy browns. Light streamed in through grand windows set at both ends of the hallway and set the brass and gold candlesticks and lamp sconces shining bright.

  “I am worried about you, Ethan,” Arieste said in a quiet voice as we walked. “We have been fighting and running without proper rest for days. I worry that you will push too hard, use too much magic, and burn yourself out.”

  I knew she was right. I could already feel my nerves growing ragged, my body reaching its limits as I kept using the magic. The more I used, the more dangerous it became. Unfortunately, right now, there was nothing I could do to stop it.

  “I can’t rest, Arieste,” I said. “The enemy is too close. There’s too much to do to prepare the city for the inevitable.”

  “If you collapse and burn out your magic, you will be of no use to anyone,” she told me, and I heard genuine concern in her voice. Her hand gripped my arm tighter. “You must take care of yourself. For all of our sakes if not your own.”

  “You’re right,” I said, and let out a long sigh. “I promise that I will rest as soon as I can.”

  “Not good enough.” Arieste’s tone left no room for argument. “Promise me that you will rest tonight, once the sun sets, before the battle is joined.”

  “But—”

  She whirled on me, and flames of cool ice burned in her pale blue eyes. “Promise me.”

  “I promise,” I said. As always, Arieste’s forcefulness caught me by surprise. She was usually so calm, cool, and collected, yet she had an inner intensity and ferocity that not even Irenya could match. It was part of what made me like her so much.

  We reached my old rooms and found two White Guards standing at attention outside, facing the door. They weren’t going to take any chances with a new dragon woman and a Blackguard in the palace.

  “Sir Ethan,” said one of the guards and snapped a salute.

  I returned the salute, then turned and knocked on the door. After a moment, a deep voice called out, “Come.” Sergeant Dai, eloquent as ever.

  I opened the door and stepped aside for Arieste to enter, then followed behind. Sergeant Dai stood just within the rooms. The sergeant was a short man built entirely of muscle, with a bald head rather than the long braids of the people of Windwall. His thick hands rested on his mace and heavy short sword, his eyes fixed on the dark-skinned woman sitting on the couch before the fireplace. Rizzala’s skin was a deep mahogany color, and she was tall, just a few inches shorter than me. She had strong shoulders and arms, full breasts, and hips and legs that would have looked perfectly at home in a sports bikini

  She lifted her head and fixed me with a stern glare. “Come to gloat, little human?” Her voice was hard and echoed with barely restrained fury.

  “Actually, I’ve come to talk to Sergeant Dai about returning to Windwall.”

  Rizzala stiffened, and fear flashed in her eyes. When I turned to the sergeant, I found myself staring at a face as hard as the stone walls around me, with about as much emotion, too.

  “Sergeant, I agreed to your request to accompany this woman to Whitespire to keep an eye on her,” I said, “but now I’m going to need to ask you to accompany Arieste back to Windwall.”

  “No.” A single word, but spoken with a stubbornness even a mountain would envy.

  “Sergeant,” I said and fixed him with a hard gaze, “in all the time we traveled through Ironfast, did I do anything to make you doubt that I was acting in the best interest of the people of Windwall?”

  After a moment, Sergeant Dai grunted and shook his head.

  “Right now, I need to act in the best interest of the people of Whitespire,” I told him. “There’s an army coming this way, and if we don’t get quicker help from your city, there’s a very real chance Whitespire won’t survive. I need you to convince the Council of Four to send as many Blackguards as they can spare. Captain Daxos is the Military Councilor now, thanks to me and my dragons, and I know he’ll listen to you, Arieste, and the message I’ll be sending from the king.”

  “I stay with her,” the sergeant said in a voice nearly as deep as a dragon’s.

  “This is war, sergeant.” I took a step closer and stared down at him. “We’re fighting for our survival now. If the city falls, the dragons and their minions will kill both of you as surely as they’ll kill the rest of us. But if you bring help from Windwall, we have a chance of not just surviving, but winning this battle. I understand your anger at her for everything she did as Emroth, but Emroth is dead. You defeated her along with us. Now we need your help to save our city, too.”

  “And her?” the sergeant asked and his eyes went to Rizzala.

  I strode around the couch and sat facing the tall, dark-skinned woman in front of me.

  “Zaddrith the Caustic and Curym Waterblade are going to attack our city tomorrow,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Nothing we can do will stop that. All we can do is fight them off and keep fighting until we win.”

  Rizzala’s expression revealed how little that mattered to her.

  “They’re going to kill all the humans,” I told her. “That means me, Arieste, Sergeant Dai, and you, too.”

  Her face stiffened, and her eyes flashed down to her human hands, limbs, and form. She clearly hadn’t gotten accustomed to the idea that she was no longer a dragon. Both Irenya and Arieste had also needed time.

  “I need your help,” I said. “Whitespire needs your help. And you need my help to survive. If I kept you locked in this room, you would die when the enemy overwhelms our defenses and sweeps through the city. The army marching toward us is going to kill you as surely as they’ll kill us. But if you fight beside us, take a stand, we have a chance of winning.” I leaned back against the couch, but my eyes never left hers. “The choice is yours.”

  A long moment of silence elapsed as our eyes remained locked. I saw a swirl of emotions pass across Rizzala’s face, disdain for humans mingled with fear of death and hesitance as she considered my offer. I could only hope she’d see the truth of our situation and accept this for what it was: a way to move forward.

  After nearly a minute without a sound, Rizzala nodded. “I will fight,” she said. “I will survive.”

  “Excellent,” I said, and felt a relieved grin spread across my face. I stood and turned to Sergeant Dai. “What is your choice, sergeant? Will you help Whitespire in its hour of need?”