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

least, I supposed my aggressor did. No, I wanted to move and move fast, but Brenwar's eyes suggested otherwise. Whoever was behind me needed serious consideration.
    “Arms up, I suppose?” I said. I’d been in this situation before. They always wanted your arms and hands where they could see them.
    “Just turn around and keep your hands where I can see them,” it demanded.
    See, I told you they’d want to see my hands. So I spread my arms out to my sides as far as I could reach them and turned.
    It was a goblin. And it was one a little higher up on the frightful scale. Goblins come in a variety. Some are taller than dwarves, others as tall as a man. Some heavy, some thin. Not much different than men, except they never bathe, and they have an affection for mud and dirt. They abhor crossing a river and will languish and brag to one another of their grimy coats. If you ever want to make a goblin mad, really mad, give him a bath. It’s torture. They hate water.
    This goblin stood tall, his muscles thick, hands meaty, greasy brown hair hanging over his shoulders. He wore leather armor and a necklace of small bones tied around his neck. One of his long pointed ears was cut off, and the other displayed a painful looking earring, chained to his nose. Even goblins have their own sense of fashion, I suppose. But the worst thing about this goblin was that he had the drop on me.
    “A dragon poacher,” I said, “except it seems that you are missing a dragon.”
    I got the feeling he didn’t care for where my conversation was headed. The aim of the goblin's arrow rose from my chest to my face. He wasn’t going to miss. 
    “Drop all your gear―both you and the dwarf—and toss it over, quickly.”
    Brenwar was rumbling behind me.
    “There’s only one. Take him.”
    I objected.
    “You aren ‘t the one with an arrow pointed at you.”
    The goblin's eyes narrowed, and he let out an awful hiss.
    “Foolish dwarf, more are coming, don’t you know. I’m the scout. Now leave your gear, and I’ll let you go. Tut-tut!”
    Goblins aren’t patient, nor kind nor merciful. If they say they won't hurt you, they're probably lying. If they say they have more support coming, they are lying. Goblins are liars. They'll say anything to get what they want and then cut your throat, but they’d rather cut your throat first.
    This goblin, judging by his size, figured he'd shoot me down and then battle Brenwar. I didn’t want to get shot, not from this close. Besides, I’d already been shot just a couple days ago.
    “Dragon,” Brenwar said, “I’m not yielding to any goblin.”
    You see, this is one of the problems you have traveling with dwarves: they aren't going to bargain with anyone, especially with those evil races. Brenwar would rather that he or I died first.
    The goblin spat a big glob on the ground and smiled wide. I swear I could see bugs crawling around his teeth.
    “The dwarf is foolish,” the goblin pulled back the bow string, “and you get to die.”
     
    Twang!
    I plucked the arrow from the air, inches from my nose. The look on the goblin’s face said it all as I held the arrow in my dragon arm.
    “Impossible!” I gaped in my own incredulity. I hadn't even had time to think; I’d just reacted, or at least my arm had, anyway.
    Brenwar pounced on the goblin, his stone-hard fists raining down blows, knocking the goblin unconscious. He kicked the goblin in the ribs once more for good measure and dusted off his hands.
    “Did you see that?” I said, marveling at the arrow.
    “I saw it, alright. Luck is all, Dragon. All you had to do was duck.”
    I tried to recall the last thing I’d been thinking. Duck! Dodge! Dive! Evade! Any of those things I was committed to, but catching an arrow? Well, that never entered my mind. I squeezed the arrow in my grip and snapped the shaft with my dragon thumb. What else could my amazing arm do?
    “Quit playing with it, will you?” Brenwar tied up the goblin with some rope and