Sons of the Falcon (The Falcons Saga) Read Online Free Page B

boot. “These dwarves are not native.
They might have come from hundreds of miles away. Traders, or an escort. Maybe
they’re wanting a share of the gold, too.”
    “And the Ristencort clan wanted to
keep it from them,” Dastyr said.
    “Maybe.” The solution didn’t sit
well with him. This wasn’t dwarven warfare, attacking a trading party taking
their ease, then leaving the bodies for the elements and the animals to devour.
The dwarves were obsessive about their honor, and nothing about this scene hinted
at honor.
    A shimmer under the trees caught
his eye, but turning, he saw nothing. Just a wisp of sunlight maybe, from a
break in the clouds.
    “Diggs,” said Daelryn. Something in
his voice turned Degany’s head immediately. His youngest brother was looking
down at his own foot. He had placed it inside another print in the snow. All of
Degany’s brothers had outgrown him, and Daelryn was tallest of all. His foot
was half again the length of Degany’s, and the print they stared at swallowed it.
“Bear?”
    The claw marks at the end of each
toe supported his guess; the rest did not. The ball of the foot, the shape of
the heel were almost human-like.
    “Only a bear walking upright,”
Gehart said, pointing at more tracks leading away into the trees. “And the
biggest bear under the sun, at that.”
    “Then what is it?” Fear peaked
Daelryn’s question.
    “Boggin,” Degany muttered, his glance
raking the shadows under the trees. He had heard one dwarf or another mention
the word on several occasions. Boogiemen or some such. Until now, he’d thought
the dwarves simpleminded or superstitious for believing they were real.
    “A what?”
    “Nothing. Back away, everyone, stay
calm, mount up. We’ll ride double-time to Ristencort, be there by dawn. We’ll
eat in the saddle.”
    The horses must’ve felt their
urgency; they laid their ears back and stamped nervously as the men tried to mount
up. Degany’s stirrups had to be so high that he needed Wolf’s help. The
mountain horse shied at precisely the wrong moment, and Degany found himself
tipped sideways and trying to straddle air. He and Wolf both tumbled. Degany
cursed the blasted animal, and Dastyr snorted against a fit of laughter. Before
Degany spat out a curse upon his brother, too, Dastyr’s eye caught something farther
up the road and the humor turned stale on his face. “What the hell?”
    Degany turned to see for himself. A
shimmer, like sunrise on breeze-rippled water, occupied the top of the next
hill, spanning the width of the road. It advanced, a slow shimmering snake. Snow-powdered
wind swirled, carrying the stench of rotten flesh. The horses whinnied, and the
source of their nerves became clear.
    “What is it? What do you see?” Wolf
asked, with hardly any breath at all.
    “Are you blind, lad?”
    “I don’t see anything!”
    “Dwarven magic,” said Daelryn from
the saddle.
    “Dwarves don’t use magic, dolt.
Only in making their hutza . Don’t you know that?” Degany regretted
snapping at his brother, but he had the sinking certainty that he and his men
had stumbled into a trap. Was it meant for them, or for someone else? In either
case, they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Complications. Always
complications. “We’re turning around, men. We’ll find another road.” It might
have looked undignified, but he grabbed the saddle horn and hoisted himself
onto the flighty horse’s back. He hadn’t so much as found both stirrups when a shout
erupted from the shimmering snake. With the thunder of a hundred horses and the
roar of a hundred lions, that snake surged down into the valley.
    The men of the garrison panicked,
turned tail and fled back down the road, trampling each other in their fury to
escape. Degany did not stop them. If it turned out to be nothing, he could
scold them later, but if it didn’t …
    He wheeled his horse and galloped
after the garrison. His brothers followed. Wolf, lighter in the saddle,