Twice Drowned Dragon (The Gryphonpike Chronicles Book 2) by Annie Bellet Read Free Book Online Page B

voice.
    “Yeah,” Makha said, her voice muffled by the scales. “Warm in here but comfortable enough.” She tugged on the hood and it receded. She let it drape down her back and bent to reattach her belt and sword sheath.
    “All ooh and ahs and look at my new armor until the day it comes alive and kills us all in our sleep,” Rahiel muttered.
    “Cheer up, sprite. I found a wand, I think.” Drake held up a foot-long, thin copper rod inlaid with purple stones.
    Caution abandoned, Rahiel zipped across the room and swiped it from his hand. She concentrated, muttering a spell. The wand glowed faintly purple and she smiled. “Mine. Any objections?”
    “I dunno. Not sure you can just take wands out of moldy chests and use them.”
    “Stupid man-children should not talk of things which they know naught.”
    We salvaged what we could from the rest of it, coming away with ancient coins that everyone decided could be melted down, a double handful of assorted garnets, rubies, amethysts, and even a couple diamonds cut like tear-drops, and the long sword which seemed to have retained its usefulness better than the ancient axes. The door in this room had a thick bar and proved to be the one leading back into the main chamber of the first tower. Our final act was to knock down and smash to bits the red glass chandelier as Rahiel was unwilling to leave even a shred of necromantic magic behind us.
    It was decided we would return to the monastery, clean up and have a meal, and then finish the journey to Coldragon where we could bring the evidence of Master Ziarnys’s necromancy before the town council and hopefully let them hire us to deal with him.
    I stepped from the keep and squinted in the sudden sunlight. The air had cleared some while we were inside and now felt more like it should; full of the scent of ripening apples and sun-warmed grasses. The rotting stench of the dragon cut through that, but the birdsong and clearing air held a promise that this place would forget the evils here eventually.
    Hoofbeats drew my attention, and I pulled an arrow from my quiver with an aching arm, rolling my shoulders. I wanted a rest and a cool bath, but it wasn’t to be.
    “Guess we won’t be bringing evidence before the council,” Drake said as the horse and rider came into view.
    The horse’s sides heaved as the rider dragged on the reins, pulling the bay gelding to a stop.
    “Thieves! Plunderers!” Master Ziarnys pointed a kid-gloved hand at us in an overly dramatic gesture. “I will kill you all for your trespasses.”
    “Really? You and what dragon?” Makha had pulled her new hood up and her voice echoed slightly from behind the shimmering blue scales.
    “Oh wait,” Drake continued for her. “We killed the dragon.”
    “Guess it is only you then,” Rahiel said as she and Bill flew upward.
    “That’s your cue, Killer,” Drake whispered as he drew his rapier.
    I released my aching fingers from the string and loosed my arrow. Ziarnys threw himself from the horse and the arrow passed over his shoulder as he fell. He came up from his roll and pulled a curved knife from within his robes, chanting as he stood. Red mist rose from the grooves on the blade and coalesced into a huge glowing hand which shot toward Drake and Makha as they both closed the distance between him.
    Makha’s sword slashed into the hand and splatters of red mist like ink spewed around her. Drake tried to dodge out of the way but was caught by the edge of the magic hand’s palm and thrown into the air. Another slash of Makha’s bastard sword dissipated the rest of the hand. Azyrin reached her side and they both advanced on the necromancer with blades ready, the shaman’s still gleaming gold even in the bright summer sunlight.
    My second arrow caught Ziarnys in the shoulder, interrupting his chanting. His horse bolted, eyes rolling, as the ground beneath us began to shake. I took a wide stance and shot again, aiming low. My arrow sliced deep into the