A Stone's Throw (The Gryphonpike Chronicles Book 3) by Annie Bellet Read Free Book Online Page B

stories. Tall as you or me with scales on their skin the color of fire.” He shook his head and chuckled. “You are a terrible conversationalist, elf. Here I am having one of the craziest moments in my life and you stand there like a statue.”
    I smiled at him. There was no way to tell him that I believed him completely. I had often looked in on the Fire-kin and their forges from the Hall of Windows. Whatever that sword was showing him, from what he had said aloud, he was seeing truth.
    “A smile, eh? That’s something I guess.” Drake peeled back his shirt from his arm. “Shallow wounds. I’ll live. Come on.”
    I stayed put, thinking how to ask what I wanted to know. Finally I tapped Thorn on the ground where the shade had died. Drake paused on the edge of the platform and squinted at me. I held out my left hand while turning my body sideways and my curse let me know with another gut punching wave of nausea that this was pushing a little too far.
    “You want to know how I defeated him?” Drake guessed.
    I raised both eyebrows in what I hoped was an expectant look.
    “He wasn’t used to fighting another lefty. So he was slightly slower to cover his off side because he trained and had to block more attacks from the right. It’s complicated.” Drake waved a hand. “He was good. I was better.”
    I followed him out of the chamber, replaying the duel in my mind and renewing my vow to learn more swordplay. My companions, well, other than Rahiel, had shown me that having skills with a close-in weapon came in handy during unpredictable fights with the myriad of deadly monsters, bandits, and other ill-meaning folk that adventurers encountered on a near daily basis. Drake’s duel had shown me something different. Swordplay could be beautiful when so much was at stake. My elven heart still craved beauty, and I yearned to learn that dance. Perhaps with time I, too, could communicate something powerful through my blade.
     
    * * *
     
    Dawn had stained the sky rose and ash by the time we emerged from the caverns and climbed the chain rings to the surface. Makha, Rahiel, and Azyrin were waiting for us. Makha leaned on her shield, holding the chain steady as I climbed over the lip of the sinkhole. Rahiel perched on Bill’s back, playing cat’s cradle with silver thread. Azyrin stepped up to me, his ice-blue eyes searching me for injuries.
    He helped pull Drake up and over behind me, clucking at the bloody stains and tears in the rogue’s shirt. All of them gasped when Drake held up the rapier.
    “It is real.” Rahiel shook her head. “It is very shiny. Probably cursed.”
    “I sense no evil in it,” Azyrin said as he touched hesitant fingers to the bell guard.
    “You’re still a hambrained idiot for going off like that,” Makha said. “And you, Killer, for letting him.”
    I pressed my lips together and raised an eyebrow. This was definitely not my fault. They could quibble about it all they wanted as long as I got a bath and soon. My scalp still itched.
    “It is dwarfwork and its name is Reason,” Drake said. “It’s not evil. Also, I found the cave bacon. It’s stone. Seriously.”
    “Where did you get the sword?” Rahiel asked, flying down closer to examine the blade.
    “Let’s get back to The Duelist’s Daughter and I’ll tell the whole story.” Drake pointed toward Stonebarrow with his new sword.
    “All right, you and the elf there could really use a bath, I guess.” Rahiel turned Bill away, her wings flicking open and shut. I hid my smile by ducking my head. She might have been the most vocal about not continuing on the day before, but the pixie-goblin couldn’t stand the idea of someone else having an adventure without her.
    There were no millipedes in my hair, just a mountain’s worth of dirt and stone chips. After cleaning up, I followed Drake to the tavern. They weren’t open as yet but relentless knocking on the door to the kitchen got Myrie to open it. A coin and a quick word from