Theft of Dragons (Princes of Naverstrom) Read Online Free Page B

south past the artisan quarter. Tael's hopes sank as he ran south and heard more explosions coming from the same direction. The view south cleared as the smoke lifted into the air. Buildings were wrecked, streets filled with broken stone and brick, all the way to the city walls. The gods are playing tricks tonight... Then a plume of fire a hundred feet high shot into the starry sky. The smoke condensed into low clouds and a wave of lightning wracked the walls below and caused screams of agony to burst from a squad of soldiers far off at the southern gate. Lightning craves the steel of sword and helm. The words of his grandfather poured into his mind.
    He charged on anyway, believing that whoever was up ahead fighting would be too distracted to notice him sneaking outside the city. When he reached the southern gate, he spied two figures radiating silver and black waves of light facing a taller figure that glowed the brilliant color of sapphire, a hand stretched out towards the other two. A wizard locked in battle against two sorcerers... Tael had been trained by his grandfather to understand the difference: in the shadows silently watching the Hakkadians practice their sorcery, or under the glow of the full moon studying the shamans boiling their potions in a pot, and at the Arcanum listening to lectures by wizards of the Order, of the elements, of light and darkness, of ancient lore and legend.
    Tael's heart leapt as something about the wizard's movement seemed familiar to him. He stalked on, intent to catch a closer view of the battle. Over rubble and ruin he ran, avoiding broken bodies of men and horses, until he stopped, transfixed at the intensifying battle. The wizard's glowing blue robe dimmed as he strained to ward off the waves of silver and black lightning splinters that streamed from the sorcerer's hands. The crackling and snapping sound of thunder echoed off the walls, creating an eerie, empty feeling of desolation and doom. Not a soul stood in sight to oppose the three, no archers remained poised behind murder holes, and no city guards ready to enforce the King's law. Only the wispy wraiths of death roamed the city, and out of the corner of his eye Tael could see them devouring the souls of the newly departed.  
    Closer still to the figures he crept until at last he recognized the wizard: Master Loral of the Arcanum, champion of light, and wielder of the Dralden Tome. Why are the Hakkadian sorcerers attacking Master Loral? King Braxion paid the Hakkadians handsomely for their allegiance, although Tael's grandfather often expressed doubts that the twisted sorcerers could ever truly be trusted.  
    Master Loral was losing the battle against the two, his face hard and pale as he struggled. Tael knew it was a foolish thing to try and help the wizard; it wasn't his fight and he had no reason to risk his life for nothing. But the way out of the city was blocked and he would be exposed and at risk of discovery if the wizard lost.
    Hakkadians leave no witnesses alive , his grandfather had said. Likely they would torch the entire city and spread rumors of a horde of dwarves rampaging the north. Tael realized that he had no choice but to act, and to act quickly against the sorcerers. Behind the two he circled, keeping his steps silent and timed to the rhythm of their magical attacks. When he was positioned directly behind the pair, sword raised and ready, he pulled the shadows around his figure to erase himself from the sorcerer's view, a spell his grandfather had taught him. The words of his father echoed in his mind. Feel the sword, feel the weight of magic, let it summon death as your ally. He latched ahold of the familiar sensation, and with the rush of blood pumping through his veins he charged at an unsuspecting sorcerer.  
    The older Hakkadian on the left stood for a few seconds after Tael's clean slice along the neck, while blood jettisoned from the sorcerer's headless torso. His partner whipped around, but the