The Netheron Chronicles, Joseph Black [e book reader for pc .TXT] 📗

than he could remember, they in return tossed in interesting little pieces about things they had done that week, things that made Tauren feel like a boring clod. Chasing robbers, and hunting down cut throats was way out of his league.
The night wore on quickly. They ate the thick stew that Edrin and Marlan had made earlier. And then, over mugs of ale, coffee, and tea, they traded stories; afterwards the Arrels and Edrin sung songs, their deep voices chorusing and echoing in a deep guttural language that Tauren didn’t recognize.
After a couple songs he slipped silently out of the cottage, listening to the cheering from the men as the latest song ended.
He sighed contentedly, he never felt any different when he was with the Arrels, and if he was recruited tomorrow he hoped that war would affect him as it seemed to have affected the Arrels . . .
He glanced over at the violent glow of the bonfire off to his right, over in the meadow by the town, and casually listened to the music and voices coming from that direction.
He sighed again, glancing up at the sky above him, glittering with stars. There, forming a perfectly even five sided shape, where five of the moons of Netheron; it was Harvest Moon formation.
That’s when the screaming started.


The Durwings Chaos.

He was just about to turn back into the cottage when he heard them; screeching, tearing screams coming from the direction of the bonfire.
He froze, uncertain of what he had just heard, but the street continued to echo with the pained cries.
Suddenly the door behind him slammed open and the Arrels rushed out, swords in hand, closely followed by Edrin, who was brandishing a woodcutting axe.
The Arrels acted so quickly it was as though the whole thing was a rehearsed act; without a sound they flipped their swords to a ready position and spreading out into the shadows of the street, and sped toward the sound, heading off into different side streets so as to come in on the sound from different directions.
Edrin nodded to Tauren.” Go. Get up to the fort. Get the garrison down here.”
Tauren stared at him stupidly.
Edrin headed down the side street that Marlan had taken, turning back to Tauren once.” Go!” He yelled, and disappeared into the shadows.
It took the last yell to break through the feeling of . . . empty fear, that had covered Tauren, and he responded to it by instantly sprinting for the fort towering on the hilltop ahead. Something was wrong; this was his chance, his chance to prove himself.
By calling the soldiers from the fort down to the problem?
It sounded lame, but he knew that it had to be done, he quickly had an image flash through his mind; his grandfather slipping a long, straight bladed sword under the seat of the cart, and he instantly knew where his next destination after alerting the soldiers would be. But why did he feel afraid, what was his training for if he felt so fearful. His heart beat rapidly, thumping in his chest, as he ran, trying not to pay attention to the fear welling up inside him.
But there was no alerting to do; even as he approached the fort he saw the gate swing open on oiled hinges, and a dozen heavily armored Arrels pour out, their armor gleaming in the light of the torches they carried, their red and white cloaks flapping behind them as they ran.
They didn’t even pay any attention to Tauren as he ran toward them, and simply went crashing in a dense formation for the side of the town that glowed with the light of the bonfire and still echoed with the screams.
Tauren rushed by them, into the fort, and into the stables, reaching frantically under the seat of the cart for the sword he had seen earlier. He froze, not sure what to do, he could stay here, he would be safe, he could let the others take care of the problem. No, he told himself, he was better than that. He instantly felt the cold handle of the sword, and whipping it out, turned and rushed back out of the gates, running as hard as he could for the glow and screams.
As he got closer; rushing by the buildings and screaming townspeople running frantically away from the meadow; through the dark shadows of the streets, getting closer by the second to the screams and fire, he began to hear the deep battle cries of the Arrels, and the sound of steel on steel: true terror gripped him, terror that made his knees feel as though they were about to buckle, and his mind screamed at him to run away.
If you fail now, you’ll never succeed, he yelled at himself, and pressed on, forcing himself to run faster, closing his eyes and trying to think of anything that might rid him of this mind – numbing fear that coursed through him.
He was in the former meadow almost before he knew it, and what he saw almost made him lose his resolve. He jerked to a stop and stared: the bonfire seemed to have exploded leaving a blackened smoking crater fifty feet across, the white tents that had been erected for the merry festival where now burning husks, and a dozen houses bordering the meadow already had flames flickering among their boards.
But that wasn’t what scared him; scattered around the field where dozens, if not hundreds, of dark shapes that took him a moment to recognize as bodies, bodies of dead townspeople, and there, in the middle of them was the most fearsome creature he had ever seen.
He had run into a bear in the woods once, it had simply passed him by, not bothering him, but he had caught a glimpse of its three inch fangs and huge claws protruding from its massive feet, it was a creature built to kill.
But this creature was different; he had spoken to his grandfather of the mysterious, terrifying creatures that inhabited Arreland and Halavarde, and, he heard, Netheron as well. And unless he was severely mistaken this was one of them: this was a dragon.
A massive tail, at least forty feet long, trailed down the hillside by the meadow, bristling with spikes; four thick, short legs protruded from its massive green scaled body, each tipped with massive the massive curved talons of a bird of prey; but it’s head was even more fearsome, almost majestic.
Adjoining its huge, thick, spiked neck; frilled with a bony crest; and covered in thick scales of such a dark green they seemed black in the dim, flickering, light. But worst of all where it’s eyes, they were sky blue cats’ eyes, eyes with an intelligence that one would expect on nothing other than a human, but eyes so filled with a lust to kill they struck fear into even the bravest hearts.
Then of course was the fact that it was trying to kill everything in sight, that wasn’t encouraging.
The Arrels had spread out and where charging in at lightning fast speeds, slamming their swords practically uselessly against its thick scales whenever they could, but the dragon was faster than was physically possible for something its size.
Even as he watched it almost snapped Marlan in two as he leaped away from it after having slamming it in the shoulder with his sword, he leaped nimbly out of the way, his eyes flickering in the light, making him look mad himself.
Then he leaped forward, faster than sight could follow, and slammed his sword against a foreleg.
Tauren instantly knew that this fight wasn’t going well, he already saw that three of the Arrels where missing from the group that was attacking the dragon, and it only took him a moment to see their bodies lying a few yards away from the it, mauled, lying in widening pools of blood that was staining the grass and soil red.
In the end chances where, that sheer numbers and drawn out hacking would take it down . . . but that would take time, there might be more of the beasts in the area, and they definitely couldn’t take down two of these things.
The Arrels had always loomed large in Taurens life, he looked up to them in awe, they were his role models for life, and any creature that could kill three of them and pose a deadly threat to 25 others . . .
He saw Edrin spin out of the shadows, swinging the old woodcutting axe and a short sword with an experts speed and skill.
Tauren felt he wouldn’t be needed, this wasn’t his time, and he lowered the sword, content to watch the fight from a safe distance, content to let this particular fight pass him by.
But it was not to be, the dragon roared all of a sudden, the sound echoing into the surrounding forest; and rearing backwards spewed a column of writhing green tinged flame straight at a group of the Arrels, a heat waved blasted into him and Tauren thought they were done for, for sure, but fast as the fire moved, the Arrels where faster, and with surprising ease they sidestepped it and moved in to attack again.
Taking his chance, Marlan leaped in and with a cry swung his long sword full force for the base of the creatures’ neck, but he had forgotten one important factor; its forepaw slammed forward, pinning him to the charred grass and sending his sword flying from his grasp.
Two of the Arrels closest to him ran forward to help him, but the creature roared and its tail swept across the field, knocking half a dozen of them over, and out of reach of their commander.
It raised its head, roaring in triumph. It reached forward to snap Marlan in two, but a moment before it sunk its glistening white fangs into his helpless body a dark form sped forward from behind a burning tent a few yards away, and with a cry slammed an old woodcutting into the side of its