Dragon Bones And Tombstones (Book 2) Read Online Free Page B

I know, and the dwarves are well-schooled on all the creatures and monsters of this world.” He stormed up the stream. “But whatever it is, I’m going to see that it doesn’t throw a dwarf anymore. Not ever! I’ll have its head, I will!”
    I unhooked Akron and loaded a magic arrow. I wasn’t going to take any chances. Whatever that thing was, well, I’m certain it would have torn me apart without Fang’s help. And don’t get me wrong: I’ve been in plenty of fights without my sword. This thing was different. And its eyes left an uncomfortable impression on me. And that was dangerous. That worried me.
    Ahead, Brenwar had started a new path out of the water and along the tree line. It seemed he didn’t want to take any more chances being out in the open. As for me, I remained in the middle of the water, bow with arrow, scanning the skyline, behind and below. If that thing was up there, I still wanted it to see me. The fight in me wasn’t finished just yet, as my senses and instincts were challenged. It was one of those things that my father had instructed me to work on. He said I needed self control, and I’m sure he was right, but I needed to test myself, too. I wanted to be ready for anything, and I always felt like I was.
    The moon had risen over the tree tops now and shined over the water. The heavy spots of clouds spotted the sky like dull grey orbs that absorbed the moonlight. My magic arrow tip twinkled like a sliver of mercy, so bright and shiny it was. The arrows could penetrate just about anything as the tips were of a dwarven made metal called mithril . Brenwar had made the arrows for me himself, and his people had blessed them with accuracy and strength. No winged ape was going to dodge one of these. No, it better not come back, but I hoped it would. I wanted to know what that thing was.
    “Brenwar,” I said, “do you want to camp? It’s getting late.”
    I suppose,” he replied, “But I’m not making a fire. I’ll not have that black fiend sneak up on me at night.”
    I couldn’t agree more. There was no need for a fire on such a warm night, and for the most part we made fire to roast the critters that we hunted. We had other things packed up to eat, of the dwarven assortment. Stripes of dried beef and a round disk of blessed bread that would fill your belly for hours. It didn’t make for the tastiest of meals, and you had to wash it down with a lot of water, but it would get you through the day. I wasn’t hungry at the moment anyway. Besides, there was nothing like fishing in the morning and the smell of fish meet roasting over an open fire. And this stream was full of trout bigger than my feet. I could feel them swimming by as I waded in the waters.
    “You should rest that wounded leg,” Brenwar suggested.
    I nodded and gave in.
    The next morning, I woke up after a restless sleep that left me feeling empty and edgy. As a dragon, I have to admit that we like our sleep, even though dragons don’t require it. I did, however, because I was still more man than dragon. But that night my dreams were filled with darkness. The winged-ape was there, a shadow in the background. There was a graveyard as well and dragons, many dragons, some living and many dead.
    “Ye were restless,” Brenwar said, as he roasted a large trout I’d caught earlier.
    Brenwar didn’t sleep much. He slept and guarded somehow, a dwarven art I never had much interest in. It was one of the advantages to having him around like this. And it probably was another good explanation as to why dwarves could be so cranky. They didn’t sleep much. But they did sleep, just not for very long, or unless it was after one of their harvest festivals when they’d eat, drink and be merry for weeks on end and sleep for days, even weeks after that.
    “No, I didn’t sleep well at all,” I said, tightening the bandage on my leg, “but the rest isn’t bothering me, that black creature is. I want to know what that thing was, Brenwar.