DW02 Dragon War Read Online Free
Author: Mark Acres
thousand hells,” George muttered. Somehow, he’d been hoodwinked.
“George!” Marta bellowed, bending over a large pile of furs, blankets, swords, daggers, spears, slings, and stones she had salvaged from the battlefield of Clairton. “Help me with this lot.”
“Ten thousand hells,” George muttered again.
Shulana, with her natural abilities to move in forests and her magical cloak which could afford her partial or even total concealment under some circumstances, took the lead as the group struck out under cover of darkness. Shulana was glad to have the point position, some fifty yards or more in advance of the three humans. She needed time for her own thoughts.
She was glad, of course, that Bagsby had suggested going to free Elrond, even though such an adventure seemed, at first blush, hopelessly beyond the capabilities of their small band. To strike the most powerful kingdom on earth, in the palace of its king, in time of war, with a force of four—most of whom had known one another only a few days—seemed the height of folly. Yet she had seen Bagsby do the impossible more than once. He had risen in a matter of weeks from a petty street thief to become the most respected knight in the now–doomed kingdom of Argolia, and he had masterminded the plan that put the Golden Eggs of Parona within her grasp. What was more, he had become her beloved, a fact that Shulana acknowledged, but did not understand.
The rescue of Elrond was a brilliant idea, actually, for it allowed her to continue her strange, growing relationship with Bagsby, while also remaining true to her mission to the Elven Council. The Council could hardly be displeased if she returned with not only the Golden Eggs, but also the very head of the council itself: Elrond, the oldest living elf, who had personally slain the Ancient One, the Mother of Dragonkind, some five thousand years ago.
Many times in the past few months, Elrond had communicated with her from his hideous cell, using the strange communion with plants that the most powerful elves had developed to a true psychic art form, to penetrate her mind with his most urgent thoughts. Haste had been foremost among these—haste to obtain and then, she presumed, destroy the Golden Eggs. Now she would bring the Golden Eggs to him, since she could see no way to destroy them herself. And in the process, she would win Elrond’s freedom from the tyrant Ruprecht and the tortures of his dungeon.
What, Shulana wondered, would Elrond think of Bagsby?
Would the acknowledged leader of all elves approve of her strange and growing affection for this human? Love matches between humans and elves had occurred in the past, but usually with disastrous results—and for that reason they were frowned upon by elves in general. Yet Shulana could no more deny her feelings than she could her duty. Despite herself, she was drawn emotionally to this human. She thrilled at his touch, wanted to care for his wounds and pains, share his worries and woes, and take part in the brief adventure of his life.
Instinctive reaction suddenly froze both Shulana’s thoughts and the movement of her body. She stood stock-still in the dark, moonless woods, her skin tingling strangely. Slowly, she raised her right arm, extending it from beneath the protective covering of her cloak, and motioned with her hand for the group behind her to halt. She heard a few rustles of leaves and branches as the three humans let down their burdens, went to their bellies on the forest floor, and readied their weapons. For a brief instant, Shulana wondered how humans had managed to survive—their movements were so noisy! Any good elven patrol would have heard them from hundreds of yards away.
But the men ahead, whose approach Shulana’s very skin had sensed before she heard or saw them, were not listening for the rustling of a few leaves. They tromped loudly through the forest, talking as they came, mindless of the dangers that might lurk in the
“George!” Marta bellowed, bending over a large pile of furs, blankets, swords, daggers, spears, slings, and stones she had salvaged from the battlefield of Clairton. “Help me with this lot.”
“Ten thousand hells,” George muttered again.
Shulana, with her natural abilities to move in forests and her magical cloak which could afford her partial or even total concealment under some circumstances, took the lead as the group struck out under cover of darkness. Shulana was glad to have the point position, some fifty yards or more in advance of the three humans. She needed time for her own thoughts.
She was glad, of course, that Bagsby had suggested going to free Elrond, even though such an adventure seemed, at first blush, hopelessly beyond the capabilities of their small band. To strike the most powerful kingdom on earth, in the palace of its king, in time of war, with a force of four—most of whom had known one another only a few days—seemed the height of folly. Yet she had seen Bagsby do the impossible more than once. He had risen in a matter of weeks from a petty street thief to become the most respected knight in the now–doomed kingdom of Argolia, and he had masterminded the plan that put the Golden Eggs of Parona within her grasp. What was more, he had become her beloved, a fact that Shulana acknowledged, but did not understand.
The rescue of Elrond was a brilliant idea, actually, for it allowed her to continue her strange, growing relationship with Bagsby, while also remaining true to her mission to the Elven Council. The Council could hardly be displeased if she returned with not only the Golden Eggs, but also the very head of the council itself: Elrond, the oldest living elf, who had personally slain the Ancient One, the Mother of Dragonkind, some five thousand years ago.
Many times in the past few months, Elrond had communicated with her from his hideous cell, using the strange communion with plants that the most powerful elves had developed to a true psychic art form, to penetrate her mind with his most urgent thoughts. Haste had been foremost among these—haste to obtain and then, she presumed, destroy the Golden Eggs. Now she would bring the Golden Eggs to him, since she could see no way to destroy them herself. And in the process, she would win Elrond’s freedom from the tyrant Ruprecht and the tortures of his dungeon.
What, Shulana wondered, would Elrond think of Bagsby?
Would the acknowledged leader of all elves approve of her strange and growing affection for this human? Love matches between humans and elves had occurred in the past, but usually with disastrous results—and for that reason they were frowned upon by elves in general. Yet Shulana could no more deny her feelings than she could her duty. Despite herself, she was drawn emotionally to this human. She thrilled at his touch, wanted to care for his wounds and pains, share his worries and woes, and take part in the brief adventure of his life.
Instinctive reaction suddenly froze both Shulana’s thoughts and the movement of her body. She stood stock-still in the dark, moonless woods, her skin tingling strangely. Slowly, she raised her right arm, extending it from beneath the protective covering of her cloak, and motioned with her hand for the group behind her to halt. She heard a few rustles of leaves and branches as the three humans let down their burdens, went to their bellies on the forest floor, and readied their weapons. For a brief instant, Shulana wondered how humans had managed to survive—their movements were so noisy! Any good elven patrol would have heard them from hundreds of yards away.
But the men ahead, whose approach Shulana’s very skin had sensed before she heard or saw them, were not listening for the rustling of a few leaves. They tromped loudly through the forest, talking as they came, mindless of the dangers that might lurk in the
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