Sara Reinke - Tiralainn 04 - Book of Dragons Volume 02.pdf - Sara Reinke - widez2

Book of Dragons: Book Three in the Chronicles of Tiralainn - Volume Two

Published in the United States by Double Dragon eBooks, a division of Double Dragon

Publishing Inc., Markham, Ontario Canada.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means,

graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any

information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from Double

Dragon Publishing.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the

author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales

or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

A Double Dragon eBook

Published by

Double Dragon Publishing, Inc.

PO Box 54016

1-5762 Highway 7 East

Markham, Ontario L3P 7Y4 Canada

http://www.double-dragon-ebooks.com

http://www.double-dragon-publishing.com

ISBN-10: 1-55404-411-1

ISBN-13: 978-1-55404-411-5

A DDP First Edition December 4, 2006

Book Layout and

Cover Art by Deron Douglas

www.derondouglas.com

Chapter One

Rhyden awoke to the faint, amber glow of new morning sunlight, and a young

boy sleeping next to him. There was something heavy covering his body, a pile of thick

blankets and furs that tickled against his throat and chin, enfolding him in warmth. The

boy lay with his face so near that Rhyden could feel the soft press of his breath against

him. The boy’s small, gloved hands were draped against Rhyden’s, his fingers gently

folded between Rhyden’s own.

Where am I?

Rhyden blinked dazedly, feeling the clouds and haze of sleep lifting from his

mind. He struggled to figure out where he was, what had happened to him, but the

events of the last twelve hours seemed completely obliterated from his mind. The last

memory he could recall in full was sitting in a longboat with Aedhir, leaving the

a’Maorga, and rowing across Lunan Bay toward the wharfs and piers of Capua.

Aedhir.

Where is Aedhir?

“Aedhir…” he said, his voice escaping his throat in a hoarse, damaged croak. He

tried to raise his head, to move, stretching his long legs beneath the blankets.

“Aedhir…where…where are you?”

The child murmured softly in his sleep at the sound of Rhyden’s quiet voice, and

Rhyden’s breath drew still, his eyes widening in alarm. The boy did not rouse, however;

he settled himself comfortably, his eyes closed, his murmurs fading.

Rhyden moved his arms and frowned to discover that his wrists were bound

together with thick, knotted ligatures.

What in the duchan…?

Rhyden moved his hands experimentally; the ropes offered little wriggle room,

and he could feel the coarse fibers cutting into his flesh. Whatever had happened to

him, wherever he was, the presence of those ropes―and the seeming absence of

Aedhir―did not bode well, and his frown deepened.

He slipped his hands away from the boy’s without stirring him. I know him,

Rhyden thought, his confusion only mounting. He recognized the child’s face, his golden

complexion like aged parchment and softly rounded features; the unusual, flattened

appearance of his nose and bowed curves of his mouth. I have seen him before,

standing on the deck of the a’Maorga. I saw him in a dream…a vision…

The boy was no vision now. Rhyden shifted his weight slowly, deliberately

beneath the blankets, shrugging his shoulder and forcing his right elbow beneath him

somewhat. He used his arm and shoulder as a fulcrum and pushed with his legs,

propping himself up. His hand swam and he lowered his face, closing his eyes and

groaning softly as a wave of uncertain vertigo waxed and waned.

What has happened to me? Where is Aedhir?

All at once, a peculiar realization occurred to him, and Rhyden opened his eyes,

startled and puzzled. Every morning of every day of his entire adult life, he had sat up to

feel the heavy, disheveled weight of his hair draping over his shoulders and into his

face. If he happened to have laid upon its long sheaf in his sleep, he would feel the

gentle strain against the crown of his head as he rolled over, his hips pinning his hair

beneath him. He did not feel these things now; he felt cold air against the back of his

neck. The blankets had shifted, drooping down to the middle of his back, and he could

feel this same bitter air against his shoulders, his chest. He looked down at himself,

bewildered, and realized two things simultaneously: he was naked

Hoah, now…!

and his hair was gone. It was not simply draped down his back, out of sight. It

was gone; its familiar and comforting weight and warmth completely vanished. It had

been cut at the nape of his neck and he could feel the shorn tips brushing against his

cheeks as it drooped down from the crown of his forehead across his brow.

“Hoah…!” Rhyden gasped, sitting upright, jerking his legs about in surprise and

alarm. His hands darted instinctively for his head, his hair and his knees struck the boy

in front of him unintentionally.

The boy’s eyes flew wide as he jumped from sleep to awake in one abrupt,

startled moment. He sat up, his eyes enormous as he scuttled backwards, scrambling

away from Rhyden. His sudden movement frightened Rhyden anew and he jerked

again, recoiling, his legs tangling in the blankets.

“Hoah―!” he gasped again, staring at the boy. He groped against the side of his

cheek, brushing through the cropped remnants of his hair. They cut my hair, he thought,

horrified and angry, although he had no idea who they might be. Those rot

bastards…someone cut my bloody damn hair!

“You are awake,” the boy said, breathless with sleepy disorientation and fright.

He inched back all the more, pushing against the ground with the heels of his large,

cumbersome boots.

“Who are you?” Rhyden said. His mouth felt thick and dry, as though he had

spent the night through with wool fleece crammed between his cheeks. He struggled

against his bindings, trying to move his hands. “Where the bloody duchan am I and

what have you done with my friend? Where is Aedhir?”

The boy blinked at him. Rhyden realized that the two of them had slept beneath

some sort of canopy, a broad swatch of hide stretched over them. The boy had scooted

himself beyond the proscenium of the canopy’s overhanging shadows and past the

child’s shoulders, Rhyden could see the belly of a longboat lined with benches, a

solitary mast rising from the center. He could see people sleeping on the benches, or

moving slowly about; his keen ears caught the sounds of a large sail snapping quietly

as it found a current of breeze. Beyond the sides of the boat, he saw the open expanse

of sea; he could feel the motion of the water as the boat cleaved a steady path across it

and his heart seized with bright panic.

The sea? Mother Above, I am on a boat out on the sea!

“No,” he whispered, shaking his head, his eyes widening in horrified realization.

“No, no, you…you cannot…” He stared at the boy, stricken. “Where are you taking me?

What have you done to my friend?”

“Please,” the boy whimpered, frightened. There were people walking toward him,

alerted by the child’s fear, his backpedaling. The boy glanced over his shoulder. “Yeb,

please! He is awake!”

Sara Reinke - Tiralainn 04 - Book of Dragons Volume 02.pdf

Plik z chomika:

Inne pliki z tego folderu:

Inne foldery tego chomika: