Read Online The Dragon Hunters by Christian Warren Freed - Free Book Online

coming.”
    Silence gripped the room. Rentor used the break to fill his empty goblet with white wine specially imported from Harlegor twice a year. A content sigh rushed out once the cool liquid hit his lips.
    “Any more questions?” he asked.
    Codel Mres and General Huor slowly shook their heads, still reeling from the unspoken implication. Cron stood with a look of utter contempt. He lacked the experience of concealing his emotions and was notorious throughout the kingdom for having a terrible temper when matters worked against him. Rentor followed suit, dwarfing everyone else in the room.
    “If you’ll excuse me, I have other kingly duties to perform.”
    They bowed and filed out of the private study, leaving Rentor alone among the expressionless statues and endless shelves of leather-bound books. He stared deeply into the marble face of the first king of Thrae. What he faced was insignificant to the first king. A man who faced Goblins and Trolls and won a kingdom.
    “If only a sword could solve my problem,” Rentor sighed.
    He retired to his private chambers and changed from the formal dress to a more subtle ensemble of leather boots, trousers, and a loose-fitting dark green shirt. The rings and necklaces went back in their box beside the heavy crown. He’d often wondered why kings needed such accoutrements . Damned things are more cumbersome and gaudy than practical. Leaving his shirt partially unbuttoned to enjoy the warm spring day, he took a last look in the mirror to convince himself he wasn’t old and headed out the door.
    * * * * *
    Grelic slept on a cot far too narrow to support his massive frame. A half-eaten tray of rations sat on the simple wooden stand beside the bed. Most of it was the rangy grey meat that didn’t look appetizing when the jailor brought it in. He’d eaten his share of rotten food over the years but even this gave him a bad feeling. Maybe if he had a flagon of ale or wine to wash it down, but that was the reason he was locked in this cell.
    Breaking out was a viable option. He’d studied the walls and bars intently as soon as he sobered. The task wouldn’t prove overly difficult but that wasn’t the message he wanted to send Rentor. The first few weeks went by before his mood soured. This was the longest he’d been kept and that worried him. Even if he did escape he had no idea as to where he was. Rentor’s soldiers bound and blindfolded him before Phaes managed to protest. So the days fled with Grelic becoming more convinced Rentor’s executioners were coming for his head.
    He awoke with a sigh. Warriors. He’d been one once. Spent his entire life fighting in one campaign after the other. His mother abandoned him when he was barely five years old. Winter and packs of wolves nearly saw him done but Grelic was a natural fighter. He escaped his tormentors and grew to be a giant of a man. He went east, spending years as a student in a gladiator school in Harlegor. There he learned the finer arts of weapons and unarmed combat. He left at the age of thirteen without suffering a defeat. A roving band of mercenaries took him in not long after and he continued to enjoy the spoils of victory.
    He was sixteen when they went up against a patrol led by the future king of Thrae. Rentor was an unassuming soldier, barely a leader, but he was wily. The boy king disguised his caravan as a pay unit to lure the mercenaries into a trap. Grelic alone survived. Not because he ran, but because Rentor watched too many men fall under his blade. It would have been a shame to kill such a warrior. They formed an uneasy alliance. Rentor offered Grelic his life back if the giant agreed to join the army and train it how to fight. He’d even offered a steady salary. Grelic smiled at the memories. What fool would waste the chance for a steady life doing what he enjoyed after so many years wandering ?
    The army became a good home for young Grelic. He excelled in every aspect of training and soon found himself