The Improbable Adventures of Scar and Potbelly: Ice Terraces of Crystal Crag by Brian S. Pratt Read Free Book Online Page A

insist?”
    Licking his lips, he glanced to the woman, then to Potbelly, and then back to Scar. “I…,” he began then paused as he turned to the woman. “We could leave tonight with those gems.”
    The woman asked Potbelly, “Are you truly bad men?”
    Potbelly shook his head. “No. We only wish to meet a friend and leave.”
    “Garrock is after them.”
    She turned to the guard and gasped.
    “If we help you he’ll kill us,” the guard said.
    “Not if you leave tonight.”
    Potbelly held out the gems.
    The guard hesitated only a moment longer, then reached out and took them.
    “Come,” he said as he removed a ring of keys and walked toward the gate.
    “Do you know where Tork lives?” Potbelly asked.
    Scar shot him a look of annoyance at telling the guard their destination.
    Reaching the gate, the guard unlocked it and swung it open. He pointed off to the right. “Not far. Look for the dragon.”
    “Dragon?”
    The guard nodded. “Now hurry. Melinda and I have to leave.”
    Potbelly shook the guard’s hand. “Best of luck to you.”
    “Thank you. Now go!” He then took Melinda’s hand they hurried off together into the dark.
    “You’re a fool.”
    Potbelly shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
    “You gave away a fortune for nothing.”
    He shrugged. “I didn’t have it when I woke this morning and I doubt if I’ll miss it when I wake tomorrow.  Besides, we still have plenty.”
    Scar merely rolled his eyes.
    They headed out in the direction indicated by the guard. A path soon developed and they followed it among the trees.
    “A dragon,” murmured Potbelly. “Hope it’s not a real one.”
    “Seriously doubt that,” Scar replied.
    The path serpentined among the growth of ash that filled the hills north of Castin until they reached a fork. They could either go straight on the path rising up into the hills, or take the smaller, less-trod one that angled into deep undergrowth. Scar led them into the deep undergrowth. Five steps later it opened onto a clearing hidden amongst the trees. Set a dozen paces within the clearing, sitting upon a pedestal was a granite dragon statue.
    Beyond the statue sat a small hut that looked barely large enough even to accommodate one old man. Smoke rose from the chimney in the back.
    “This must be it,” Potbelly said as they approached the statue.
    “It better be,” Scar replied. He ran a hand along the dragon’s jawline, admiring the craftsmanship. “Dawn will be here soon.” And at dawn their ship sailed with the tide; with or without them.
    “You won’t live to see the dawn,” a voice behind them said.
    Spinning about, they drew their weapons.
    Eleven men stood just within the clearing. Three they recognized from the battle with Verin and the townsfolk. Standing at the fore was a tall, dark haired man dressed in chainmail with a double-headed axe slung across his back. The way he stood and the set of his eyes said he was the leader.
    “Garrock?”
    The leader smiled an evil grin and nodded. “Lay down your arms and we’ll make it quick. Make a fuss and it’ll be long and painful.”
    Scar laughed. “I don’t see why we should,” he said. “You best be returning to your mamas before my friend and I send you to the next life.”
    “Get them,” Garrock said.
    His men stepped forward.
    A single word spoken in a voice far louder than any human throat could manage split the night. From the ground between them, fire erupted in a wall twenty feet long.
    “Come inside, gentlemen.”
    Staggering back from the heat, Scar turned to find Tork standing in his doorway. He waved them forward.
    “Tork!” Garrock yelled. “You burnt one of my men.”
    “Step upon my land again without my leave and you will receive worse.”
    Scar and Potbelly walked quickly to the old man. He motioned for them to enter. “Please have a seat. There is tea and biscuits on the table if you should like some.”
    “Thank you,” Potbelly said.
    “That’s quite a