The Sword of Darrow Read Online Free
control. In the forest, their keen noses found temptation everywhere. Sensing prey, predators, or some mysterious scent, these skriabeasts would bolt from the path, their exasperated riders screaming orders that the hideous animals completely ignored.
Worse than that was the noise the beasts made. In designing the animal, Zindown had managed to contort its vocal cords so that they neither howled like wolves nor barked like dogs. Instead, when they opened their jaws, they let forth screams, sharp and high-pitched. At first, it sounded something like skreeeeeee, which gave the creatures their name. But a second or two into the scream, their vocal cords began to waver and the tone changed to an ear-splitting, hideous screech.
Beltar had hoped his army might travel ten miles a day. But his progress had been tormented by delays. Three days into the march, the army had barely traveled six miles.
Slowness was not Beltar’s only setback. The forest provided perfect cover for an ambush. To avoid alerting the enemy, he had ordered his troops to remain silent. But the terrible cry of the skriabeasts signaled their presence for miles ahead and the low moans of the caged Cyclops unnerved his troops.
Beltar had wondered whether to bring the Cyclops at all. It was a violent and temperamental giant. Taken in battle from a far-away island kingdom, the Cyclops had been used to hammer tunnels in mountains and expand the caves where goblins preferred to live. Ten feet tall and stoutly built, it possessed uncommon strength. With its hundred-pound hammer, it could demolish solid rock—or a strong stone wall, like the palace wall at Blumenbruch.
So Beltar loaded the Cyclops and his hammer into a cage. To calm the Cyclops, Beltar ordered three cave trolls to march at its side. Their presence seemed to ease his torments and his moaning became less frequent, but when he did moan, the cave trolls joined in, delighted to be part of the song. Together, they signaled Beltar’s advance far into the forest. Beltar cursed the Cyclops. He cursed Zindown. As he scanned the forest floor, he cursed the cowardly enemy that had yet to appear. He called to an aide.
“Unleash the ravens,” he ordered and the soldier ran to the cages where the ravens were kept. The ravens were scavengers. They would find the Sonnencrest army and settle in the trees above. Their awful caws would betray the enemy long before the goblin soldiers were actually in sight.
While the Cyclops moaned in the forest, the Nikanobi River rang with a happier noise. It was a song of the sea. And from three meandering rowboats rose a raucous, drunken chorus of joy.
The life of a simple sailor
Has no appeal to me
That’s why I’m a pirate
As evil as can be
My life is well rewarded
By a swig from me keg of rum
And the treasure I’ve a stolen
Is a mighty, mighty sum
Oh, spare me all your pity
For the hardships of the sea
The life of a heartless pirate
Needs no sympathy
The riches I have squandered
I could not count them all
Many places I have wandered
Some places I have crawled
No matter where I travel
I’m ready to do blows
And when I meet my maker
I’ll punch ’im in the nose!
Oh, spare me all your pity
For the hardships of the sea
Life for a heartless pirate
Needs no sympathy
Cradled in the river’s current, the three boats rocked back and forth as the occupants swayed with the song. Inside the boats were boxes of jewels and their weight pushed the boats deep into the water. In the first boat, balancing himself on the bow, stood Telsinore, dancing a careful jig to the song of his crew.
Not far downstream, goblin soldiers were loading rafts, preparing for their journey around the forest. When the pirate song reached their ears, they stopped their work and peered upstream. The singing grew louder and when three rowboats wobbled around a bend and into plain view, there were snickers and outright laughter until one goblin officer barked orders and two hundred
Worse than that was the noise the beasts made. In designing the animal, Zindown had managed to contort its vocal cords so that they neither howled like wolves nor barked like dogs. Instead, when they opened their jaws, they let forth screams, sharp and high-pitched. At first, it sounded something like skreeeeeee, which gave the creatures their name. But a second or two into the scream, their vocal cords began to waver and the tone changed to an ear-splitting, hideous screech.
Beltar had hoped his army might travel ten miles a day. But his progress had been tormented by delays. Three days into the march, the army had barely traveled six miles.
Slowness was not Beltar’s only setback. The forest provided perfect cover for an ambush. To avoid alerting the enemy, he had ordered his troops to remain silent. But the terrible cry of the skriabeasts signaled their presence for miles ahead and the low moans of the caged Cyclops unnerved his troops.
Beltar had wondered whether to bring the Cyclops at all. It was a violent and temperamental giant. Taken in battle from a far-away island kingdom, the Cyclops had been used to hammer tunnels in mountains and expand the caves where goblins preferred to live. Ten feet tall and stoutly built, it possessed uncommon strength. With its hundred-pound hammer, it could demolish solid rock—or a strong stone wall, like the palace wall at Blumenbruch.
So Beltar loaded the Cyclops and his hammer into a cage. To calm the Cyclops, Beltar ordered three cave trolls to march at its side. Their presence seemed to ease his torments and his moaning became less frequent, but when he did moan, the cave trolls joined in, delighted to be part of the song. Together, they signaled Beltar’s advance far into the forest. Beltar cursed the Cyclops. He cursed Zindown. As he scanned the forest floor, he cursed the cowardly enemy that had yet to appear. He called to an aide.
“Unleash the ravens,” he ordered and the soldier ran to the cages where the ravens were kept. The ravens were scavengers. They would find the Sonnencrest army and settle in the trees above. Their awful caws would betray the enemy long before the goblin soldiers were actually in sight.
While the Cyclops moaned in the forest, the Nikanobi River rang with a happier noise. It was a song of the sea. And from three meandering rowboats rose a raucous, drunken chorus of joy.
The life of a simple sailor
Has no appeal to me
That’s why I’m a pirate
As evil as can be
My life is well rewarded
By a swig from me keg of rum
And the treasure I’ve a stolen
Is a mighty, mighty sum
Oh, spare me all your pity
For the hardships of the sea
The life of a heartless pirate
Needs no sympathy
The riches I have squandered
I could not count them all
Many places I have wandered
Some places I have crawled
No matter where I travel
I’m ready to do blows
And when I meet my maker
I’ll punch ’im in the nose!
Oh, spare me all your pity
For the hardships of the sea
Life for a heartless pirate
Needs no sympathy
Cradled in the river’s current, the three boats rocked back and forth as the occupants swayed with the song. Inside the boats were boxes of jewels and their weight pushed the boats deep into the water. In the first boat, balancing himself on the bow, stood Telsinore, dancing a careful jig to the song of his crew.
Not far downstream, goblin soldiers were loading rafts, preparing for their journey around the forest. When the pirate song reached their ears, they stopped their work and peered upstream. The singing grew louder and when three rowboats wobbled around a bend and into plain view, there were snickers and outright laughter until one goblin officer barked orders and two hundred
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