Read Online Heir to the Sundered Crown by Matthew Olney - Free Book Online

corpses still with heads and throats to emanate the bone chilling sound. They numbered in their thousands.
    “All of those people were killed in the towns and villages. Then they were brought back;” Said Woven. Carlock stared in terror, he remembered the horror stories his grandfather used to tell him and his brothers when they were small, sat around the fire on those long cold winter nights of the Dark Mages magic’s and the great war.
     “Magic. It has to be. The darkest of all.”
    A roar caught the ranger’s attention. Below their hiding spot two rapidly approaching horrors came, snarling beasts with thick fur, razor sharp claws and talons of steel.
    “Werewolves!” pointed Carlock.
    The creatures were rare, but not unknown in the mountain regions. They were the remnants of the Magic Wars. They were men cursed by the dark mages in battle, and for centuries the beasts had roamed the peaks picking off the unwary traveller.
    “They have our scent.” Woven swore and drew his bow. “Let’s move. They could be scouts for that army.” The two rangers quickly clambered down from the overhang and ran through the dense brush. Naked trees with their sharp twigs and limbs tore at their clothes as the two men bounded down the mountainside.
    “Hurry!” shouted Woven as his companion stumbled in the snow. The beasts were fast approaching; their panting breaths and snarls drew closer.
    Carlock picked himself up and scrambled back onto his feet, almost falling again as the thick snow shifted under his weight. Panicking now, he glanced over his shoulder to see the two wolves closing fast. The beasts’ fearsome muzzles were full of razor sharp fangs and saliva poured from there snarling jaws.
    “Down” shouted Woven just as one of the creatures leapt at Carlock’s back, talons extended for the kill.
     The creature covered the large distance in a single bound almost taking the elder ranger by surprise. But Woven was a man of the mountains; his entire life had been spent hunting and fighting amongst the frigid peaks.
    Instinct was his greatest ally in the often blizzard filled landscape, a place where the senses often failed or deceived. He notched an arrow, drew back the longbows cord and loosed. He shot with hardly taking aim, he never had to. After years of practise and use he shot the bow from reflex.
    Carlock turned as the werewolf flew at him. Just as he thought he would surely die Woven’s arrow struck the beast.
    With a howl of pain the creature lost its momentum, and crashed to the ground at Carlock’s feet. The arrow had pierced the creature’s thick hide, and its heart.
    He spun around as he heard the second wolf snarling. His adrenaline now pumping and buoyed up by his friends kill of the first he drew his own bow.
    The remaining Werewolf was more patient and cautious then its deceased companion had been. Slowly it circled the young ranger, its feral eyes never leaving those of the man before it. Despite the cold, sweat poured down Carlock’s face almost blinding him. The monster before him circling; just waiting to strike.
     Its fangs looked like knives capable of rending flesh with ease; its coarse thick fur was aglow with ethereal cursed energy. Carlock slowly notched an arrow to his bowstring, he didn’t want to startle the creature into attacking, and that was why he saw Woven moving slowly behind him, a new arrow strung on his great longbow. Delicately he took aim and drew back the cord. His breathing was deafening and his heart pounded like a drum.
    The Werewolf snarled and its eyes narrowed, it sensed the ranger was about to attack. With a blur of speed the beast crossed the distance to its prey in a split second. It pounced onto its prey. Carlock hardly had the chance to scream as with lighting speed the monster was upon him.
    Woven shot his arrow but this time the point only grazed the wolves flank, bouncing harmlessly off of the beast’s thick hide. Swearing he now drew his silver sword and