Read Online Falconfar 01-Dark Lord by Ed Greenwood - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Ed Greenwood
Tags: Falconfar
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like old sewage lay rotting inside it, something so large that its ribcage formed arches of bone that towered above their heads as they stalked warily past.
A neck as long as Rod's driveway stretched up a crumbling castle wall, limp and broken, to end in a severed, insect-swarming mess not far from—
"Aughh!" Rod hissed, trying not to vomit. "What's that?"
High above them, crowning the end of a collapsed wall, perched a leathery, many-horned, greenish-brown monstrosity, a little bigger than Rod's body, that looked a little bit like the head of a triceratops Rod had seen illustrated in dinosaur books. If, that is, triceratops had sprouted dozens of dark, corkscrew-spiraling horns, like antelope or mountain goats or whatever, and tusked fangs around a great jaw like an overgrown cane toad or horned devil or—or—
"Its head. This was a greatfangs, when it lived, and that didn't end all that long ago," Taeauna told him, sounding troubled, her sword drawn in her hand. "I know not how it came to be here, in Ornkeep, but..."
Rod was watching her bone-white face. "But you want to," he said, after it became clear she wasn't going to say anymore. "So, do we run like hell, or is it too late for that?"
The Aumrarr shook her head. "Nothing could slay a greatfangs thus except a wizard's spell, or a true dragon; not even another greatfangs has jaws large and strong enough to behead one of its kin." She shook her head again. "I've only seen two dragons in all my days." Looking straight at Rod—a look that laid bare to him just how tremblingly afraid she was—she added, "And I've seen a lot of Falconfar. Come."
And she walked into the ruin without waiting for his reply, heading for one of the stone staircases that ascended.
Gagging at the stink of the great carcass they were passing, Rod scrambled to follow, muttering, "Why are we...? What if this damned wizard is lurking somewhere around here, waiting for us? Shouldn't we just...?"
The view of the sprawled, dead greatfangs didn't look any more reassuring from atop the wall, and the stones of that wall, cracked and overgrown with low, creeping plants, literally crumbled underfoot.
Wincing, Rod gingerly followed Taeauna out to the end of the wall. He hoped she hadn't decided she was the last Aumrarr, and she should just hurl herself off it and leave him alone here, up in this whistling wind.
She stopped at the end of the wall, close enough to touch the reeking tangle of sharp, stabbing horns that was the severed head, and stared down at something on the crumbling stone right beside it.
Something that glowed.
Something small, blue-white and bright. Magic, of course.
Rod advanced cautiously to where he could see it properly, and stopped, afraid he might slip and knock Taeauna into all those nasty-looking horns, perhaps to slide messily off into a long, fatal fall down onto the rocks below, and taking him with her.
He "was peering at a small, flat stone, and the glow was coming from a complicated little squiggle that had been drawn on it.
"What is it?" Rod murmured, looking all around. He half-expected a dragon, or a wizard— or a wizard riding a dragon—to suddenly race out of hiding, loom up to tower over them, and roar terribly.
Before it ate them, or crisped them with fiery breath, of course.
Gently, coldly, the wind whistled past.
"We were meant to find this," the Aumrarr told him, kneeling beside it. "It's a wizard's rune. The sign of one of the Dooms. Telling us, or anyone passing this way, who slew this greatfangs, to make the way safe for us. It's a trap, of sorts, too; come no closer."
Rod nodded, only too happy to obey. "So you know who put it here?"
Taeauna nodded without replying. She set down her sacks, rummaged in one of them, and plucked forth two stoppered flasks. Pulling the cork from the larger one, she carefully sprinkled an unbroken ring of brown powder that looked like instant coffee around the stone, tapping the flask with a deft finger to make
A neck as long as Rod's driveway stretched up a crumbling castle wall, limp and broken, to end in a severed, insect-swarming mess not far from—
"Aughh!" Rod hissed, trying not to vomit. "What's that?"
High above them, crowning the end of a collapsed wall, perched a leathery, many-horned, greenish-brown monstrosity, a little bigger than Rod's body, that looked a little bit like the head of a triceratops Rod had seen illustrated in dinosaur books. If, that is, triceratops had sprouted dozens of dark, corkscrew-spiraling horns, like antelope or mountain goats or whatever, and tusked fangs around a great jaw like an overgrown cane toad or horned devil or—or—
"Its head. This was a greatfangs, when it lived, and that didn't end all that long ago," Taeauna told him, sounding troubled, her sword drawn in her hand. "I know not how it came to be here, in Ornkeep, but..."
Rod was watching her bone-white face. "But you want to," he said, after it became clear she wasn't going to say anymore. "So, do we run like hell, or is it too late for that?"
The Aumrarr shook her head. "Nothing could slay a greatfangs thus except a wizard's spell, or a true dragon; not even another greatfangs has jaws large and strong enough to behead one of its kin." She shook her head again. "I've only seen two dragons in all my days." Looking straight at Rod—a look that laid bare to him just how tremblingly afraid she was—she added, "And I've seen a lot of Falconfar. Come."
And she walked into the ruin without waiting for his reply, heading for one of the stone staircases that ascended.
Gagging at the stink of the great carcass they were passing, Rod scrambled to follow, muttering, "Why are we...? What if this damned wizard is lurking somewhere around here, waiting for us? Shouldn't we just...?"
The view of the sprawled, dead greatfangs didn't look any more reassuring from atop the wall, and the stones of that wall, cracked and overgrown with low, creeping plants, literally crumbled underfoot.
Wincing, Rod gingerly followed Taeauna out to the end of the wall. He hoped she hadn't decided she was the last Aumrarr, and she should just hurl herself off it and leave him alone here, up in this whistling wind.
She stopped at the end of the wall, close enough to touch the reeking tangle of sharp, stabbing horns that was the severed head, and stared down at something on the crumbling stone right beside it.
Something that glowed.
Something small, blue-white and bright. Magic, of course.
Rod advanced cautiously to where he could see it properly, and stopped, afraid he might slip and knock Taeauna into all those nasty-looking horns, perhaps to slide messily off into a long, fatal fall down onto the rocks below, and taking him with her.
He "was peering at a small, flat stone, and the glow was coming from a complicated little squiggle that had been drawn on it.
"What is it?" Rod murmured, looking all around. He half-expected a dragon, or a wizard— or a wizard riding a dragon—to suddenly race out of hiding, loom up to tower over them, and roar terribly.
Before it ate them, or crisped them with fiery breath, of course.
Gently, coldly, the wind whistled past.
"We were meant to find this," the Aumrarr told him, kneeling beside it. "It's a wizard's rune. The sign of one of the Dooms. Telling us, or anyone passing this way, who slew this greatfangs, to make the way safe for us. It's a trap, of sorts, too; come no closer."
Rod nodded, only too happy to obey. "So you know who put it here?"
Taeauna nodded without replying. She set down her sacks, rummaged in one of them, and plucked forth two stoppered flasks. Pulling the cork from the larger one, she carefully sprinkled an unbroken ring of brown powder that looked like instant coffee around the stone, tapping the flask with a deft finger to make
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