By Christopher Rowley
THE 109TH DRAGONS
The so much unswerving bunch of dragon warriors and human attendants ever to march on crusade had simply been reformed whilst Bazil Broketail and his human boy, Relkin, lower back from a fruitless look for Bazil's cherished eco-friendly dragoness. longing for motion opposed to the evil enemy forces, the dragon and his boy have been thrilled to find that in their absence a brand new sword were crafted for Bazil by way of the elves, a sword much more robust than the only he'd formerly misplaced. So armed, how may possibly they very likely fail to defeat all of the foes who awaited them?
But there has been one probability neither Bazil nor Relkin might be able to expect - the forces of the Goddess of demise had marked them either as her selected sufferers for seize and sacrifice...
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Extra resources for A Sword for a Dragon (Bazil Broketail, Book 2)
Closing his eyes, he spoke a soft prayer. Then, walking with a careless stride he set off, more or less in the direction the three men were taking, High on the tower, a red-scaled dragon's eyes looked down upon all, facets reflecting scenes from every street, every alley, the flurry of activity in the markets, the women and children appearing on flat rooftops to hang laundry, figures wandering here and there between buildings. In those eyes, the city seethed. Somewhere, beyond Night, the sun unleashed a morning of brazen, heady heat.
Am I not the last one left to share with my lord that memory! The pressure slowly eased. And once again, he had survived the embrace. And the next time? There was no telling, but he did not believe he could last much longer. The pain clutching his chest, the thunder in his skull. We have found a new supply of cadaver eels. That is what I will tell him. And he will smile and nod, and perhaps settle one hand on my shoulder. A gentle, cautious squeeze, light enough to ensure that nothing breaks. He will speak his gratitude.
The rings spun once round on the chain in his hand, then snapped taut. 'We will camp here,' he said in a hoarse voice. Some previous battle had left Clip's armour and clothes in tatters, with old bloodstains on the dark leather. So many wounds that, if delivered all at once, they should probably have killed him. Little of this had been visible that night on the street in Second Maiden Fort, when he had first summoned them. Nimander and Skintick watched their kin settle down on the soft loam of the forest floor wherever they happened to be standing, blank-eyed and looking lost.
A Sword for a Dragon (Bazil Broketail, Book 2) by Christopher Rowley