Read Online The Grieving Tree: The Dragon Below Book II by Don Bassingthwaite - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Don Bassingthwaite
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Ashi.
Or, Geth thought, maybe he couldn’t. The dragon’s stiff movements, the haggard look of pain on his human face … maybe Dah’mir couldn’t fly. Tiger’s blood, he wondered, how badly did I injure him?
He kept the thought to himself. If Dah’mir was somewhere behind them, they couldn’t led their guard down. Vennet and his men were still following, their shouts echoing along the twists of the street—once they lost them, they could worry about Dah’mir. Geth glanced down each of the alleys that split off from the street, but without exception, they were all even narrower than the street itself—and now was not the time to risk blundering into a dead-end.
Assuming that the twisting street wasn’t itself a dead-end.
As they skidded around a final corner, though, the buildings that had hemmed them in fell away. The crooked street opened up, merging with other streets to make a plaza along the side of abroad canal. To their left and ahead, wide streets ran off through the city. To their right, a bridge leaped across the canal. The plaza was busy—ordinary people going about their day’s errands, merchants strolling and talking, porters plodding under massive loads of goods. A strange smell like a hundred crushed plants mingled together made Geth’s nose twitch.
“That’s the herb market!” Orshok panted. The orc was running heavily, out of breath. “It’s close—on the other side of the canal. Singe and Dandra will be there. They can help us!”
A chill rolled along Geth’s back. “No!” he said, slowing in the middle of the plaza. “We can’t lead Vennet to them. Dandra’s vulnerable to Dah’mir’s power.”
“What do we do then?” asked Ashi. She swung around to face him—and her eyes focused on something high and behind him. Her mouth opened to shout a warning, but Geth was already spinning—
—as five black herons with acid-green eyes came swooping out of the sky, practically on top of them. He flung up one arm to shield his face and flailed wildly with his other, trying to bat the birds away. He smelled a greasy, coppery stink as one of the birds struck. Pain raked along his arm. As the birds flapped back up into the air, he glanced at his arm. The heron’s sharp talons had drawn blood even through his tough hide!
He spun around. The birds were beating for altitude again, coming around. People across the plaza were shouting and turning to look. Ashi was helping Orshok to his feet. There were long slashes in the druid’s sleeves and bloody scratches on his forehead. Geth jumped to his side, teeth bared. “I’m really starting to hate those damn herons!”
There was anger in Orshok’s eyes. “Then let’s give them something to worry about besides us!” He thrust his hands—his hunda stick clenched in one, the fingers of the other spread wide—toward the sky and spat a prayer.
Nature stirred and answered his call. In the sky above the wheeling herons, the afternoon light seemed to fold and part. With a chorus of brittle shrieks, four eagles burst out of the air and hit the herons in a flurry of feathers and talons. One of the herons fell to the wooden plaza almost immediately, its neck broken. The others scattered, pursued by the eagles.
The display of magic drew even more attention to them, however—some of it distinctly unwelcome.
“Geth!” shouted Vennet. “Ashi, you treacherous bitch!
Geth turned to see the half-elf standing in the mouth of the crooked street they had just left, his dim-eyed crew spreading out around their captain. He recognized many of them, including a formerly friendly, steadfast sailor named Karth. If Karth had been turned to hunting them down, Geth knew, something had definitely taken control of Vennet’s men.
He also knew that they couldn’t just keep running. He crouched down, a snarl tearing itself from his throat and reached for his sword. Ashi was at his side, her hand on her weapon as well. The bystanders closest to them pulled
Or, Geth thought, maybe he couldn’t. The dragon’s stiff movements, the haggard look of pain on his human face … maybe Dah’mir couldn’t fly. Tiger’s blood, he wondered, how badly did I injure him?
He kept the thought to himself. If Dah’mir was somewhere behind them, they couldn’t led their guard down. Vennet and his men were still following, their shouts echoing along the twists of the street—once they lost them, they could worry about Dah’mir. Geth glanced down each of the alleys that split off from the street, but without exception, they were all even narrower than the street itself—and now was not the time to risk blundering into a dead-end.
Assuming that the twisting street wasn’t itself a dead-end.
As they skidded around a final corner, though, the buildings that had hemmed them in fell away. The crooked street opened up, merging with other streets to make a plaza along the side of abroad canal. To their left and ahead, wide streets ran off through the city. To their right, a bridge leaped across the canal. The plaza was busy—ordinary people going about their day’s errands, merchants strolling and talking, porters plodding under massive loads of goods. A strange smell like a hundred crushed plants mingled together made Geth’s nose twitch.
“That’s the herb market!” Orshok panted. The orc was running heavily, out of breath. “It’s close—on the other side of the canal. Singe and Dandra will be there. They can help us!”
A chill rolled along Geth’s back. “No!” he said, slowing in the middle of the plaza. “We can’t lead Vennet to them. Dandra’s vulnerable to Dah’mir’s power.”
“What do we do then?” asked Ashi. She swung around to face him—and her eyes focused on something high and behind him. Her mouth opened to shout a warning, but Geth was already spinning—
—as five black herons with acid-green eyes came swooping out of the sky, practically on top of them. He flung up one arm to shield his face and flailed wildly with his other, trying to bat the birds away. He smelled a greasy, coppery stink as one of the birds struck. Pain raked along his arm. As the birds flapped back up into the air, he glanced at his arm. The heron’s sharp talons had drawn blood even through his tough hide!
He spun around. The birds were beating for altitude again, coming around. People across the plaza were shouting and turning to look. Ashi was helping Orshok to his feet. There were long slashes in the druid’s sleeves and bloody scratches on his forehead. Geth jumped to his side, teeth bared. “I’m really starting to hate those damn herons!”
There was anger in Orshok’s eyes. “Then let’s give them something to worry about besides us!” He thrust his hands—his hunda stick clenched in one, the fingers of the other spread wide—toward the sky and spat a prayer.
Nature stirred and answered his call. In the sky above the wheeling herons, the afternoon light seemed to fold and part. With a chorus of brittle shrieks, four eagles burst out of the air and hit the herons in a flurry of feathers and talons. One of the herons fell to the wooden plaza almost immediately, its neck broken. The others scattered, pursued by the eagles.
The display of magic drew even more attention to them, however—some of it distinctly unwelcome.
“Geth!” shouted Vennet. “Ashi, you treacherous bitch!
Geth turned to see the half-elf standing in the mouth of the crooked street they had just left, his dim-eyed crew spreading out around their captain. He recognized many of them, including a formerly friendly, steadfast sailor named Karth. If Karth had been turned to hunting them down, Geth knew, something had definitely taken control of Vennet’s men.
He also knew that they couldn’t just keep running. He crouched down, a snarl tearing itself from his throat and reached for his sword. Ashi was at his side, her hand on her weapon as well. The bystanders closest to them pulled
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