The Dragon Hunters Read Online Free

running Thrae on a normal day.”
    Codel smiled outwardly, knowing the contempt he inwardly felt wouldn’t do him any good just yet.
    * * * * *
    The Order of Harr was one of the dying breeds. One of the oldest religious sects in all Malweir, their society was slowly being washed away by the basic lack of faith that set in most civilizations over time. Less people felt the need to prostrate themselves to the old gods. It was a new world, full of possibilities and individual realizations. Men simply didn’t care the way their ancestors did. The old gods were being replaced by industry and massive population centers.
    Yet the monks persisted. They continued to wear the traditional grey robes and kept their heads shaved but for a sliver of a beard. Many were converted ex-convicts pardoned by the kings of Malweir. Harr was not so choosey when it came to proper followers. All it took was that moment of clarity when faith was professed and the brotherhood accepted with open arms.
    Harr monastery rested on the edge of a mountainside. A single land road was the only entry and exit point. Peaceful as the monks were, they were none the fool. Too many times in their storied past they’d been prey to bandits or mobs of people whipped into fervor. A drawbridge spanned the narrow ravine leading to the main buildings. It was rigged to collapse, promising a long fall before a painful death on the jagged rocks below. The buildings were from an ancient time, carved out of the mountain itself. Statues of men and women lined the paths of the inner courtyard, their faces were worn away in the dimness of time.
    The monastery had the look of contempt for the outside world. It was not warm. Not inviting. Everything was drab grey. The color signified their relationship to the ordinary. The belief that no man was better than the next. The philosophy of their god. Several walls had cracks and whole chunks of ledges and balconies had crumbled away. Empty windows peered out like haunting eyes. A lone sentry was always on duty in the bell tower to alert the monks of visitors. Faith alone wasn’t enough to protect them during hard times.
    The bell started ringing an hour before midnight. Word spread quickly. A column of riders was approaching. A well-drilled reaction force of twelve monks marched to the walls, each wielding a short range crossbow and short sword. Though trained and drilled for such an event, the monks of Harr weren’t warriors. Few among them thought they stood even the slightest chance of repelling an assault if the enemy had their minds set. The bravest of them saw death moments away.
    Father Seldis eased his way through the aging walls, helped by his trusted servant and acolyte, Phic. There were days when Seldis felt as old as the decrepit buildings he maintained. Close to eighty, he felt every day of it. So much so that the flesh was already wasting from his bones.
    “Damned cold night for visitors,” Seldis said as freezing winds lashed him.
    Phic shook his head for the hundredth time that day. “Father, you shouldn’t swear so much. You know Harr looks down on such behavior.”
    “You’re too young to know better, young Phic,” Seldis reminded him sternly. “As far as what Harr thinks, well, I’ll let you know when I go see him. It won’t be too much longer. We both know that. So stop your fussing and get to the gate to greet our visitors.”
    “Yes, Father,” Phic said and hurried about his task.
    Seldis admired the youth. Taken from a broken home as a mere babe, Phic had been groomed and trained to become a valuable member of the Order. It didn’t take much for Seldis to imagine the boy wearing the head monk robes one day.
    The gates opened with an aggravated groan. Golden torchlight invaded the blackened courtyard. Seldis smiled as King Rentor’s imposing figure came into view. Monks bowed and whispered astonished greetings at the surprise visit. It had been a long time since the king of Thrae bothered to grace