The Dragon Hunters by Christian Warren Freed Read Free Book Online

watching them from the safety of the night.
    “What’s your plan?” Notam asked.
    “We can’t armor up or we give away our hand. It’s possible the enemy doesn’t know what we do. I say we keep riding as is, throw an extra eye on the tree line from time to time. Whoever it is seems content with watching.”
    “For now.”
    “For now,” Cron agreed. “Rouse the watch at dawn. We break camp and strike for Gend. I don’t want to spend any more time there than necessary.”
    “Is it that bad?”
    A nod confirmed his fears. Cron went on to explain everything he’d been told. The tale was brief and grim. Notam felt his stomach churn.
    “An entire village gone. And people celebrate we’ve been at peace for so long. You don’t think it’s the Dwarves again do you?”
    Cron didn’t know. “I doubt it. They are above killing innocent civilians.”
    Both men remembered how a handful of sturdy Dwarf warriors ambushed an entire company, one hundred twenty riders, and slaughtered them to the man. All Cron’s company found the next day were shredded corpses and blood stains. Not one of the enemy had fallen. The incident quickly sent panic rippling through the ranks and nearly turned the tide of battle against Thrae. It wasn’t until Rentor made his stand at Kressel Tine did men take hope and turn the Dwarves back. Neither Cron nor Notam remembered the battle as victory. The war ended when both kings met and agreed that enough had already died. The mines in the Thed Mountains lay abandoned ever since.
    “Goblins then?” Notam asked in bored speculation.
    Cron did his best to steer away from the conversation. He didn’t want to spend the night wondering who was going to attack or when. Sleep was rare enough for troops in the field. Notam didn’t suffer from such delicacies. All he needed was a place to lay his head. Sleep found him.
    “There haven’t been any Goblins in Thrae for hundreds of years. If it is their work we need to know why now. Why here? There’s something about this whole affair that doesn’t feel right. Something sinister.”
    Notam spit into the fire. “You’ve spent too much time around politicians and their games. This could just be the prelude to a good old-fashioned war. We’ll do the fighting. Let the people in Kelis Dur worry about the rest. Soldiers shouldn’t care about making nice. Kill them all and be done with the matter. Get some sleep, Captain. You’ll need your wits about you on the morrow.”
    Cron wormed his way through the snoring bodies and found his spot. His eyes closed but sleep was a long time coming. The pale yellow eyes blinked and disappeared.
     
     
     
    “Do you smell that?” Notam asked shortly before midday.
    He reigned in his roan mare. Experienced eyes shifted slowly across his field of vision. Nothing moved. Not even the wind. Any tracks were lost in the slop of melting snow and mud. Notam felt uneasy for the first time. Curse you, Cron. Your stories have me jumping at shadows . Several times already he thought he heard strange bird calls. Heard bushes rustle that shouldn’t have. He sniffed again, catching the faint aromas of acrid smoke and sulfur. Notam instinctively drew his sword.
    “Fire. Somewhere in that direction,” he said and pointed across the lightly forested hills.
    Cron paused to study the map. “Gend should be just ahead.”
    The veteran would have replied if he wasn’t already barking out orders.
    “Weapons out! Battle ready! Form ranks for village search!”
    That baleful sound of steel leaving leather, familiar as an old friend, sang through the trees and underbrush. Axe and sword, lance and pike. The soldiers of Thrae adjusted their helmets and body armor one final time. Each squad dispersed into a loose arrowhead formation. Squad leaders took point. Cron and Notam assumed their positions between the first and second squads and ordered the advance.
    Decay choked the forest air. Though the flames had long since died, the heavy odor