Hatchling's Guardian Read Online Free

Hatchling’s Guardian
    Unshed tears burned Deneae’s eyes. She paid no more attention to the yells of her fellow villagers than she did the wooden splinters that pricked her skin. Swinging the heavy sledge, she knocked out the last wall panel. Eager hands grabbed the section and carried it away.
    So much had changed since the day’s dawning. The summons to appear before the elders had been unexpected, as was their edict. Old Caldar’s voice as he stood before the six gathered gray-beards held not sorrow, but another emotion with darker overtones. “A dream came to the Seer. He saw a dragon, and it took human form.” His finger stabbed toward Deneae’s chest. “Yours!”
    Before Deneae could protest the implied charge of witchery, Caldar raised a hand to silence her. Fanaticism glittered from his eyes. “Slayer Candidate Deneae, you have been chosen.” The words boomed off the stone walls. “You leave in three days. Do not return until you destroy the evil creature devouring our land.”
    Although she did not expect help from that quarter, Deneae searched the faces of her former teachers. Their stoic expressions offered no reprieve. Fire burned up her spine. She had done nothing to deserve this punishment. Not a single lamb or calf had been lost to a dragon in the two decades since her birth. Yet these men were sending her to a certain death.
    “Kneel, Slayer Deneae,” Caldar ordered.
    Numb and unable to resist, Deneae dropped to her knees and bowed her head for a final benediction.
    Caldar’s voice rang out. “Know this. If you fall, your name will be carved in the tunnel along the walk of the honored faithful.”
    His cold hand on her head turned her rage into a wall of ice around her soul. Her mumbled response to the formal parting must have satisfied the men, because they did not reprimand her as they did in her youth. Fingers clenched against the urge to leap up and strangle those who pronounced her death sentence, she had risen and without a backward glance strode from the room.
    Deneae pulled herself from the memory and blinked. Several hours had passed. Instead of the blaze of the noon-day sun, sunset painted the sky bright crimson and shades of orange—and the house built by her mother now lay in ruins. Cold satisfaction took the sting from the view. Good, she thought. My mother would be pleased that the house she built is now making life easier for young Geren and his new wife. Caldar wanted the home for his son, but now the lazy dimwit would have to find another house to confiscate. “Or,” she added with a smirk, “build his own.” The thought of the fat youth wielding an axe brought a chuckle.
    Hefting the strap of the bedroll over her shoulder, Deneae took one final look at the empty spot that just hours earlier had comprised her entire world. Everything she needed to do was now accomplished.
    Instead of the three days allotted me, I will leave now. On my terms.
    Determined she spun on a heel and headed towards the stone wall surrounding the village. Save Geren and his wife, not a single man or woman spoke to her on the short walk through the center of town. Their stone-hard expressions or turned backs made the same statement: Witch .
    Her spine stiff, her chin lifted with pride, Deneae met their gazes head-on. Only when she was hours beyond the sentry stones and far out into the surrounding desert did she allow herself the luxury of shedding tears.
    Rivulets ran down her face, but she did not stop. Not even the throbbing in her shoulders slowed her leaden footsteps. Although accustomed to the weight of the sword and bow strapped across her back, her travel roll felt heavier than warranted by a single blanket and few meager belongings. No, she admitted, the load did not slow her steps. Knowledge did. The knowledge of the cavalier way the elders dismissed not only her, but her mother and their contributions to the village.
    She touched the engraved medallion lying against her skin. The pendant