The Soldier's Tale Read Online Free

their
spells. The dark power also sometimes drew things like urvaalgs or
ursaars or even worse creatures.
    “Bad sign, sir,” I said. “That’s not a good
place. Perhaps we should return to Castra Durius and await a
Swordbearer.”
    “We have a Magistrius,” said Primus.
    “We do, sir knight,” said Mallister, “but
this Magistrius would also prefer the aid of a Swordbearer.”
    Primus considered for a moment. “No. We’ll
press on. We have our orders, and if this was a creature of dark
magic, it wouldn’t stop with stealing cattle. Optio, prepare to
make for Mhazulask’s Hill.”
    “Sir,” I said, and I gave commands to the
men. It took a bit to get the recruits into order, but soon we rode
west.
    We reached Mhazulask’s Hill by late
afternoon, a grim, barren fist of rock that rose out of the
surrounding pine forests. Atop the hill stood a ring of black
standing stones, and I felt a faint queasy sensation as I looked
them, which wasn’t pleasant combined with my headache.
    “We’ll camp at the base of the hill,” said
Primus. “Optio, select four groups of four men each. They are to
scout the area and report back. No man is to go off alone, and if
the scouts encounter any foes, they will return at once. We…”
    “What the hell is that?” said one of the
new recruits, his voice rising with fear.
    I turned, my first impulse to rebuke the
man for speaking out of turn. Then I saw the terror on his face,
saw his eyes widening as he groped for his sword. I turned again,
looking for what had frightened him so much.
    Then a shadow swept over us, and I looked
up.
    There was a reason whoever had stolen the
sheep and pigs hadn’t left any tracks. The stolen cattle hadn’t
been carried away.
    They had been flown away.
    The wyvern fell from the sky like a
green-scaled thunderbolt.
    The creature was enormous, its body the
size of an adult ox, the limbs heavy with muscle and equipped with
razor-edged talons. Its wings spread like the sails of a ship, and
fierce yellow eyes glared from a head crowned with a bony crest,
its thick neck long and serpentine. Its greenish-black scales
looked as tough as steel, and the wyvern’s long, thick tail ended
with a barbed stinger glistening with black slime. A wyvern’s
poison was lethal, and could kill a strong man in moments.
    “Scatter!” I shouted, but it was too late.
The wyvern swooped over us, and its stinger plunged into one of the
new recruits, punching through his armor to sink into his flesh.
The man screamed, yellow foam bubbling from his mouth, and he fell
from his mount, thrashing and moaning. The wyvern snatched another
man from his saddle, its talons closing around his head and
shoulders. I aimed a hasty sword stroke at the wyvern as it passed,
but my blade rebounded from the thick scales on its hind limbs. The
wyvern soared into the sky, dragging the screaming recruit with it,
and then it twisted its claws. The man’s headless corpse tumbled to
the ground, blood spurting from the ragged stump of his neck.
    The wyvern let out a brassy cry of rage and
circled around for another pass. We didn’t dare run. The great
beast had claimed Mhazulask’s Hill as its lair, and it would regard
us as intruders. Wyverns were not magical creatures, and were not
immune to normal steel. Of course, with its thick scales, claws,
fangs, and that venomous tail, it hardly needed to fear normal
steel.
    “Bows!” roared Primus, pointing with his
sword. “Bows, quickly, quickly!” The men-at-arms scrambled for the
short bows slung from their saddles, putting arrows to the
strings.
    “Aim for the wings!” I said, sheathing my
sword and raising my bow. “The scales are too thick! Aim for the
wings!”
    Mallister cast a spell, white light flaring
around his hands, and that light jumped from his fingers to sink
into the men-at-arms. I had seen him use that spell before. It was
a magical ward, armoring us in protective spells. It wouldn’t stop
a wyvern’s talons or fangs, but