Champions of the Gods Read Online Free

history and timeless toil washed over her that she became choked up momentarily.
    “The iron they used mostly for weapons. The barbarians are nearly as strong as the dwarves you know.”
    The cave opened up into a wider cavern then, and Azzeal swept his torch from left to right, checking for possible inhabitants. As the torchlight passed over the rock, Krentz caught fleeting glimpses of large murals painted on every surface. To the right a natural spring trickled into a basin that could have only been crafted by magic…long ago. She knew without asking that Azzeal had been its creator.
    “Here, you can sit if you like,” said Azzeal, indicating a stone table built into an alcove at the back of the cave. Similarly, a bench and two chairs had been crafted into the stone.
    Krentz sat down and watched the elf go about searching for something along the back wall. He ran his hand along it carefully, pressing one long ear against the stone. Five slow paces later he stopped and grinned. He put down the torch and retrieved a small iron spade from his pack. His hand trailed a line down the stone and he stuck the spade in a crack. After working it back and forth for some time, he caught a hold and leveraged the spade in deeper, simultaneously forcing a small slab out. Azzeal took the brick out and tossed it to the side. Excitedly, he returned to investigate the space.
    Krentz got up to better see what he was doing.
    He withdrew a long bundle wrapped in leather and reverently blew the dust off.
    “What is it?” Krentz asked.
    “I had nearly forgotten about this one,” he said, more to himself than to Krentz. He looked to her now and rose, gesturing her over to the table.
    He laid down the bundle and began to unwrap it. There were many laces and layers, but by the general shape of the bundle, Krentz assumed it to be a long, curved blade or a bow.
    “Aside from a passion for history, I have for many centuries enjoyed crafting weapons,” said Azzeal, unwrapping the last of it.
    A bow as white as sun-bleached bone was laid bare before them. The craftsmanship was exquisite; there were no sharp edges, but rather smooth and angular. Elven runes inlaid with tiny gems had been forged into the bow, which Krentz realized was indeed bone, likely dragon horn.
    Azzeal retrieved a long thin bowstring as well. “This is made from the vocal cord of a dragon. You may have guessed that the bow is dragon horn. It was fashioned from one piece, which, while the dragon was alive, grew between the nostrils of the beast. I originally made it as a gift for the then chief of Dragon Tribe. But upon meeting him, I saw him to be a vile and offensive man. So I brought it back here and stashed it away for posterity.”
    He turned to Krentz. “And here we are.”
    A quiver of arrows came out of the cloth as well, which Azzeal set on the floor. He then strung the bow and tested its flexibility.
    “Just like the day I made it,” he said with a smile.
    “It is an incredible piece.”
    “Aennak, it is named. I would like you to have it,” said Azzeal, handing it to her.
    “What? Why would you give me such an exquisite gift?”
    “Consider it an offering of trade, if you like. As I have said, I am a historian above all other things. I am interested in chronicling what has happened here in Agora these last few years. Your story is quite interesting. You are, after all, Eadon’s daughter. There are many rumors about you throughout Elladrindellia. I would give you a chance to tell your story as it should be told.”
    Krentz considered Aennak once more and nodded. “I accept your offer. Thank you.”
    “I thank you , Lady Krentz.”
    From his pack Azzeal took a bottle of wine bound in leather straps. He found two mugs as well and poured them both a cup.
    “Let us drink to newfound friendship,” said Azzeal, raising his glass.
    Krentz tapped his rim with hers. “To newfound friendship.”
    They both drained their glasses, and Krentz took up the bow and