Read Online Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) by Charles E. Yallowitz - Free Book Online

muscular goblin is carefully climbing from the top of the willow, his limbs decorated with bones that have been sharpened into spikes. His horns are longer than the others and end in forks that their owner has carefully cut into the ivory. The battered hilt of a shortsword can be seen over his shoulder and patches of leather armor have been sewn into his chest. With a wild scream, the goblin leaps at Timoran and laughs when the barbarian moves out of the way. The elder rambles in his native tongue, but it is clear he is mocking the large warrior for avoiding the attack.
    “They not nice,” Fizzle whispers.
    “It would appear there is great variety in behavior among goblins,” Timoran replies, watching the elder puff out his chest in an imitation of the barbarian. “Those near Hero’s Gate are polite and civilized with a desire to be left alone. This tribe is obviously more primal. I wonder if they are responsible for our perception of goblins since I see signs that they have a habit of attacking travelers.”
    “What signs?”
    Timoran subtly nods his head to a nearby hut where the glint of armor can be seen through the open doorway. Fizzle stretches his neck and squints, his eyes turning a dull pink as he whispers a spell. Looking through the wall, he sees a large collection of weapons, armors, and backpacks full of traveling gear. The dragon can even see a small pile of abandoned toys tucked into the corner of the hut. A terrifying thought crosses Fizzle’s mind and he steadies his nerves while watching the rambunctious elder. Taking a deep breath, the drite darts through the air, circles around the chuckling goblin, and soars back to Timoran’s shoulder.
    “Bones in goblin are human, halfling, and elf,” Fizzle declares, earning a chorus of laughter from the creatures. “They going to eat us.”
    “That changes things.”
    “Coward not allowed to speak!” snaps the elder, drawing his shortsword and pointing it at the barbarian. “You and friends are ours. We decide your fate. Stand there and be quiet while Daga think.”
    “I find myself unwilling to obey now that I know you plan to eat us,” Timoran replies, crossing his arms and staring down the burly goblin. “All we want is a guide to the source of the curse and we will be on our way. There does not have to be bloodshed.”
    “You want to remove the fugue?” Daga asks with a cruel cackle. He bounds around the area to get his people whooping and shrieking. “Goblins want to keep mist. It make hunting easier. If it grow then we take river and city. This be our land and we feast every night!”
    “Goblin not make sense,” Fizzle says, scratching his head with his tail. “Bones in body make mind hurt? Fizzle not understand.”
    “Dragon is a fool.”
    “Goblin is ugly.”
    “Dragon be eaten first.”
    “Goblin too stupid to catch Fizzle.”
    “Dragon caught now.”
    “Is Fizzle?”
    The drite takes to the air and zips around the village, his body nothing more than a purple blur. He releases a stream of rainbow smoke over part of the crowd and they collapse into a twitching slumber. As the goblins panic, spears and rocks hurtle through the air at Fizzle in an attempt to bring him down. The noise rises into a din of mad screeches until Timoran roars loud enough to scare every living thing into silence. Even Fizzle catches his breath and darts back to the barbarian’s shoulder where he feels safe.
    “I do not want to waste my time with you,” the muscular warrior states in a voice that is edged with anger. “My friends and I require your help. I will take it by force if I have to because it appears you are not giving me much choice.”
    “Daga not scared of coward,” the elder declares, jumping up and down with his sword held high. The goblin slashes at the air, pretending to gut his towering opponent. “Friends will be eaten first. Start with dragon to make sure no trouble made. We take time with coward. Enough meat for everyone to get