Read Online Blue Diamonds (Book One of The Blue Diamonds Saga) by R.E. Murphy - Free Book Online
Authors: R.E. Murphy
Ads: Link
eventually take leave to Loyola.
“If they only knew what they were missing,” Jevon whispered to the big city as much as to himself.
He took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, savoring the freshness of the clean, mountain air. He wasn't sure if the air was so much cleaner here, or if it was that freedom made the air taste so good. He took a few more breaths and decided it was probably both. Then he turned and started on the path downhill, ready to return to the responsibilities of his new life of supervising his hard working dwarves.
At least all but one dwarf.
“If they only knew what they were missing,” cheered the dwarf, smiling at the sparkling lake before him.
Pall, pronounced like wall, and thought to have a head as hard as one, absolutely loved to fish. Not to say that he ever turned down a night of hunting for wild boar with the rest of his kin, but when the skies were clear like now, he without a doubt preferred a relaxing day by the water over all else.
Although, before he could really relax he had to get over the hardest part of fishing for a dwarf. Some things were just plain difficult to do when you have short, stubby fingers, and near the top of Pall’s list was fixing bait to a hook. After several tries, and more than a few angry words at the uncooperative worm, he conquered the hook and cast his line out. Hook, worm and lead weight shattered the still water with a loud KERPLUNK in a section a little up shore that was shaded by a twisting tree that hung over the bank.
“Bulls eye,” he claimed, pleased with his aim. With the hard part over, he padded the grass with his foot searching for the softest tuft to sit on. He was determined to have fish for dinner no matter how long the wait. He was sick and tired of chicken and pork stew, which was all the aunties seemed to make for the work-line at the fort. They may have switched the vegetables in the broth from time to time, but in the end it was always chicken or pork stew.
Pall, Jevon Hammerheart's only son, opted out of “diggin in the mud” with everyone else the moment they arrived at the mountain. It may have been sacrilegious, but he was a dwarf who didn’t care about building anything at all. He fancied using weapons far more than making or selling them, and mining was definitely low on the list of his desires.
“Why do we need to sell anything? And why do we barter with the people we say we can’t stand?” he’d defiantly ask his father, never receiving an answer.
Ashamed, he already knew the answer. Greed. It was a fire his people may not have started, but lately everyone seemed to be burning with it. Pall couldn’t understand wanting all that money. He’d rather have a life rich with adventure, or at least for now a tasty, red trout.
He stuck the end of his fishing pole into the ground, between a large piece of driftwood and a rock, and then pulled a small silver bell from his tackle box to fasten at the top of the rod. Lastly, he checked every angle of the rod several times just to be sure it wasn’t going anywhere.
“Perfect,” he said, before plopping down onto the grass, finally satisfied with the setup.
Just as he began to put his hands behind his head and relax Pall tensed and sat deathly still, facing the lake. His nerves were screaming something fierce in his skull. Nearly a minute passed as he scanned the span of the lake slowly from left to right, searching for anything. Nothing moved, but the dazzle of sunlight energizing the lake. Everything looked normal, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He briefly scanned the beaches once more for movement. He only found rocky shores that rose out of the water and into a faltering pine-tree line, the same as it ever was. A bird let out a rapid pulsing of what seemed half chirp, half whistle. Whatever bird it was, Pall took it as a good omen and was at ease once again.
Pall found this treasure of a lake to the west of Loyola, hidden
“If they only knew what they were missing,” Jevon whispered to the big city as much as to himself.
He took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly, savoring the freshness of the clean, mountain air. He wasn't sure if the air was so much cleaner here, or if it was that freedom made the air taste so good. He took a few more breaths and decided it was probably both. Then he turned and started on the path downhill, ready to return to the responsibilities of his new life of supervising his hard working dwarves.
At least all but one dwarf.
“If they only knew what they were missing,” cheered the dwarf, smiling at the sparkling lake before him.
Pall, pronounced like wall, and thought to have a head as hard as one, absolutely loved to fish. Not to say that he ever turned down a night of hunting for wild boar with the rest of his kin, but when the skies were clear like now, he without a doubt preferred a relaxing day by the water over all else.
Although, before he could really relax he had to get over the hardest part of fishing for a dwarf. Some things were just plain difficult to do when you have short, stubby fingers, and near the top of Pall’s list was fixing bait to a hook. After several tries, and more than a few angry words at the uncooperative worm, he conquered the hook and cast his line out. Hook, worm and lead weight shattered the still water with a loud KERPLUNK in a section a little up shore that was shaded by a twisting tree that hung over the bank.
“Bulls eye,” he claimed, pleased with his aim. With the hard part over, he padded the grass with his foot searching for the softest tuft to sit on. He was determined to have fish for dinner no matter how long the wait. He was sick and tired of chicken and pork stew, which was all the aunties seemed to make for the work-line at the fort. They may have switched the vegetables in the broth from time to time, but in the end it was always chicken or pork stew.
Pall, Jevon Hammerheart's only son, opted out of “diggin in the mud” with everyone else the moment they arrived at the mountain. It may have been sacrilegious, but he was a dwarf who didn’t care about building anything at all. He fancied using weapons far more than making or selling them, and mining was definitely low on the list of his desires.
“Why do we need to sell anything? And why do we barter with the people we say we can’t stand?” he’d defiantly ask his father, never receiving an answer.
Ashamed, he already knew the answer. Greed. It was a fire his people may not have started, but lately everyone seemed to be burning with it. Pall couldn’t understand wanting all that money. He’d rather have a life rich with adventure, or at least for now a tasty, red trout.
He stuck the end of his fishing pole into the ground, between a large piece of driftwood and a rock, and then pulled a small silver bell from his tackle box to fasten at the top of the rod. Lastly, he checked every angle of the rod several times just to be sure it wasn’t going anywhere.
“Perfect,” he said, before plopping down onto the grass, finally satisfied with the setup.
Just as he began to put his hands behind his head and relax Pall tensed and sat deathly still, facing the lake. His nerves were screaming something fierce in his skull. Nearly a minute passed as he scanned the span of the lake slowly from left to right, searching for anything. Nothing moved, but the dazzle of sunlight energizing the lake. Everything looked normal, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he was being watched. He briefly scanned the beaches once more for movement. He only found rocky shores that rose out of the water and into a faltering pine-tree line, the same as it ever was. A bird let out a rapid pulsing of what seemed half chirp, half whistle. Whatever bird it was, Pall took it as a good omen and was at ease once again.
Pall found this treasure of a lake to the west of Loyola, hidden
Similar Books
