Dragon Bones And Tombstones (Book 2) by Craig Halloran Read Free Book Online

There was a charred body and another one broken and dead. The breath I’d heard moments earlier was gone. So far as I could tell, the danger was long gone.
    I stepped into the clearing to continue my investigation. The bodies, charred and still smoking, were goblins. I hated goblins, too, and I bet that doesn’t surprise you. They were some of the most notorious dragon poachers of all. I ran my fingers over an impression in the ground. Dragon tracks! My heart thumped harder in my chest. Looking at all the signs, broken branches and stirred up dirt, I’d say at least twenty goblins had trapped one dragon and dragged him down. But what kind of dragon was it?
     
    The body smoking on the ground was my best clue. The goblin's leather armor was dry and brittle. Its sword was fused to its hand, and all of its hairs were singed from its body as if it had been hit by a lightning bolt. A Blue Razor. That was the type of dragon I thought it was. Fast, fast as lightning, and its breath, a jolt from the heavens. I hadn’t seen one in decades.
    “Brenwar,” I said. No response. He must have been onto something, but I wasn’t worried. There was never a reason to worry about Brenwar, and if he thought you did , he’d be insulted. There was a glint of light in the dirt at my feet, like a piece of shining metal. A dragon scale. I picked it up, as big as two of my fingers, a metallic blue. It was a Blue Razor, alright, a dragon more known for its speed than strength. Blue Razors didn’t grow to be very big, no bigger than a horse, and judging by the tracks, this one wasn’t much bigger than a pony. Now, you would think that a dragon would be really hard for something as stupid as a goblin to catch, but goblins aren't stupid, just ugly. Orcs are stupid. That’s why they're dangerous. Don’t forget that.
    The goblins, or in this case, goblin poachers, had been hunting dragons for centuries, and they’d developed tools and weapons to use. They used netting and slings to trap the dragon’s wings, and all the rest they did by force. The goblin charred to a crisp on the ground was given the honor, as his goblin leaders would have convinced him, to absorb the dragon’s breath. Volunteering his own death to capture a dragon would bring the fallen goblin's family great honor.
    I could see the entire scuffle between dragon and goblin playing out in my head. The Blue Razor sniffing out a small hoard of treasure and gathering it with his small hands into a pouch under his wings. I bet you didn’t know that, did you? Dragons have pouches and other secrets as well. The goblins shooting a net over the dragon, pinning his wings so he couldn't fly to escape. Next, the first goblin charges at him only to be scorched alive. Another goblin attacks and is downed under the power of the striking dragon’s claws. His breath exhausted on the first goblin, the sheer number of goblins overwhelms him. I was sad thinking about the dragon's capture. If Brenwar and I had come sooner, maybe we could have prevented it.
    There was dragon blood in the dirt as well. Not much, but enough to know the dragon was injured, and in jeopardy. On a positive note, dragons are worth much more alive than dead. At least ten times more, and it made perfect sense that the goblins would be searching for buyers.
    Brenwar emerged from the woods, scratching his black beard as his said, “I found wagon tracks and a large path up ahead. They’ve been moving half a day, if that.”
    I slipped my magic arrow back into my quicker and hooked Akron.
    “Let’s get moving then,” I said.
    I stepped, stopped and turned. I could feel eyes on me. The hair on my neck rose. The breathing that had come and gone was back, but heavier and louder than before.
    “Don’t move,” a coarse voice warned from somewhere behind my back.

 
    CHAPTER 8
     
     
    I froze. It wasn’t my inclination to freeze; that wasn’t natural. Not when someone had a bowstring stretched and pointed at my back. At