The Dragon Hammer (Wulf's Saga Book 1) by Tony Daniel Read Free Book Online
Authors: Tony Daniel
forearm. The castle contingent called it a butthole. Rainer didn’t care. Most people knew what the tattoo meant.
Tretz had been yanked apart by six great chains attached to his legs, his neck, and his tail, each pulled tighter and tighter by huge ratchet wheels until he was torn into six pieces. And then he had miraculously reassembled, and come back to life even greater than before.
“All right, tell me. What happens in the saga?” Rainer asked, mostly to pull Wulf back to reality. His friend was lost in a trance, standing and staring at the Olden Oak.
“The saga? Oh, right.” Wulf shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Five hundred men tried to break the Dragon Hammer off,” Wulf said.
“And your great-great-great-great-granddad was the one who did it, right?”
“Duke Tjark.”
“Must be nice to have your relatives in the old stories.”
Wulf nodded. “True. But Tjark broke it off of the tree. He didn’t put it in,” Wulf said. “Not like me.”
“Better get tree stabbing, then,” Rainer replied.
Wulf approached the tree. Rainer could tell that the dragon-call had him completely now. Wulf unsheathed his dagger and stepped up to the tree with it. To somebody else, it might have looked like Wulf was up to some prank, that he was about to carve his name into the tree, or maybe the name of a girl or something. People did that. The tree had a lot of scars.
Instead, Wulf drew his arm back and plunged the dagger into the oak, point first.
And in it went.
This amazed Rainer every time he saw, and he’d seen it more than a half-dozen times.
Not just the dagger tip, but the whole blade sank in, up to the hilt, like it was passing into butter. Wulf should not have been able to do this.
I couldn’t do it, Rainer thought. No man nor even any of the bigger Tier was strong enough. Well, maybe a bear man. But it didn’t seem like Wulf was straining in the least. No, he looked like somebody who was fitting a key into its lock.
It wasn’t a miracle or the act of some god or divine being or whatever, though. Rainer was sure of that. No, it was magic. Magic wasn’t a miracle. Their lore tutor, Master Tolas, had taught them that magic could be figured out. But Rainer had to admit he sure hadn’t figured this magic out yet.
Wulf was gone, mentally. Connected to his dragon. Or to the land. He wasn’t Wulfgang von Dunstig.
He was some kind of half-man, half-tree as far as Rainer could tell.
Out of it.
The shuffling again.
There in the township shadows. Somebody followed us.
Rainer couldn’t shake the certainty he felt about that.
Now I have to be totally on guard, Rainer thought. He pulled his own dagger clear of the scabbard and held it loosely in his right hand. He took a deep breath and looked carefully around.
Be aware of everything. Like your life depends on it.
The footsteps again, the very faint ones he’d heard before. Whoever it was had one of the lightest steps Rainer had ever heard.
You don’t fool me, whoever you are. I know you’re out there.
Suddenly, there was a soft whoosh and a thunk. Rainer spun to see that a black crossbow bolt had embedded itself in the Olden Oak barely a fingerbreadth from Wulf’s head. The pale moonlight glinted off the shaft darkly.
The footsteps from across the square grew closer.
Chapter Six:
The Land-Dragon
Wulf gripped the dagger tightly. His other hand touched the rough bark of the Olden Oak and he leaned into it. But it was his dagger hand that truly made contact with the living insides of the tree. He felt through the steel, into the tree. Wulf’s mind traveled into the rock, and then down. Down and out. Into the land-dragon Shenandoah.
Soon he was everywhere.
Shenandoah. The dragon we live on. Shenandoah meant the beautiful green valley, sixty leagues long. This was where most of the people lived. Wulf could sense them all. Villages. Farms lying under the moonlight, their wheat and corn bending in a soft breeze. Cotton and tobacco fields to
Tretz had been yanked apart by six great chains attached to his legs, his neck, and his tail, each pulled tighter and tighter by huge ratchet wheels until he was torn into six pieces. And then he had miraculously reassembled, and come back to life even greater than before.
“All right, tell me. What happens in the saga?” Rainer asked, mostly to pull Wulf back to reality. His friend was lost in a trance, standing and staring at the Olden Oak.
“The saga? Oh, right.” Wulf shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “Five hundred men tried to break the Dragon Hammer off,” Wulf said.
“And your great-great-great-great-granddad was the one who did it, right?”
“Duke Tjark.”
“Must be nice to have your relatives in the old stories.”
Wulf nodded. “True. But Tjark broke it off of the tree. He didn’t put it in,” Wulf said. “Not like me.”
“Better get tree stabbing, then,” Rainer replied.
Wulf approached the tree. Rainer could tell that the dragon-call had him completely now. Wulf unsheathed his dagger and stepped up to the tree with it. To somebody else, it might have looked like Wulf was up to some prank, that he was about to carve his name into the tree, or maybe the name of a girl or something. People did that. The tree had a lot of scars.
Instead, Wulf drew his arm back and plunged the dagger into the oak, point first.
And in it went.
This amazed Rainer every time he saw, and he’d seen it more than a half-dozen times.
Not just the dagger tip, but the whole blade sank in, up to the hilt, like it was passing into butter. Wulf should not have been able to do this.
I couldn’t do it, Rainer thought. No man nor even any of the bigger Tier was strong enough. Well, maybe a bear man. But it didn’t seem like Wulf was straining in the least. No, he looked like somebody who was fitting a key into its lock.
It wasn’t a miracle or the act of some god or divine being or whatever, though. Rainer was sure of that. No, it was magic. Magic wasn’t a miracle. Their lore tutor, Master Tolas, had taught them that magic could be figured out. But Rainer had to admit he sure hadn’t figured this magic out yet.
Wulf was gone, mentally. Connected to his dragon. Or to the land. He wasn’t Wulfgang von Dunstig.
He was some kind of half-man, half-tree as far as Rainer could tell.
Out of it.
The shuffling again.
There in the township shadows. Somebody followed us.
Rainer couldn’t shake the certainty he felt about that.
Now I have to be totally on guard, Rainer thought. He pulled his own dagger clear of the scabbard and held it loosely in his right hand. He took a deep breath and looked carefully around.
Be aware of everything. Like your life depends on it.
The footsteps again, the very faint ones he’d heard before. Whoever it was had one of the lightest steps Rainer had ever heard.
You don’t fool me, whoever you are. I know you’re out there.
Suddenly, there was a soft whoosh and a thunk. Rainer spun to see that a black crossbow bolt had embedded itself in the Olden Oak barely a fingerbreadth from Wulf’s head. The pale moonlight glinted off the shaft darkly.
The footsteps from across the square grew closer.
Chapter Six:
The Land-Dragon
Wulf gripped the dagger tightly. His other hand touched the rough bark of the Olden Oak and he leaned into it. But it was his dagger hand that truly made contact with the living insides of the tree. He felt through the steel, into the tree. Wulf’s mind traveled into the rock, and then down. Down and out. Into the land-dragon Shenandoah.
Soon he was everywhere.
Shenandoah. The dragon we live on. Shenandoah meant the beautiful green valley, sixty leagues long. This was where most of the people lived. Wulf could sense them all. Villages. Farms lying under the moonlight, their wheat and corn bending in a soft breeze. Cotton and tobacco fields to
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