Read Flight of the Dragon (The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 5 of 10) (Tail of the Dragon) for Free Online

warrior stared down into the abyss between them then held his sword up to his head in a salute. “Remember this, Nath Dragon. You did not beat me.” The bridge floor gave way right underneath the huge warrior. He plummeted through the gap into the abyss.
    “Nooooooo!” Nath screamed.
    The bridged trembled a few moments longer before it finally stopped crumbling. Numb and one handed, Nath stood empty in the midst of the storm’s pouring rain, gazing down into the gaping hole.

CHAPTER 9
     
     
    Scar woke up with an aching head and a burning shoulder. He was sitting on the ground with his feet bound up together at the ankles, leaning against a tree. His sword arm—not on the broken side—was tied down to his waist. The last thing he remembered was talking to Rerry, then blinding pain, followed by blackness.
    “Oh ho ho, look who has awakened.” It was the sprightful voice of Rerry. The part-elven swordsman stood between the shallow stream and the fallen giant. He had Scar’s rapier in one hand and the giant’s ring in the other. He was tossing the ring in the air and stabbing the sword in and out of the hole. Rerry looked at Scar. “This is the finest steel I’ve ever held. Enchanted, isn’t it?”
    Scar let out a muffled groan. A strip of cloth sealed his mouth shut. The cloth tasted awful. He wanted to spit but couldn’t.
    “Oh, you can’t speak just yet,” Rerry said, twirling the giant’s ring on the blade of the sword with acrobatic ease. “But we’ll get to that when you’re ready to cooperate.”
    Scar’s eyes beheld the other two elven soldiers from his unit. Both of them were bound up tight and sitting on the ground on the other side of the stream. It was clear they weren’t going anywhere. A rustle caught his ear. Samaz emerged from the woodland bank of the stream with a dead soldier in his arms. The husky part-elf gently lowered the corpse to the ground, setting the soldier beside the others. All of the fallen elves were there. All seven of them. Scar’s throat tightened. Those were his soldiers. He was responsible for their lives. Though he wasn’t close to any of them and he never showed it, he cared.
    Rerry squatted before him, sword over his shoulder. “It seems the giant had one last effort in it. Squished you like a fly, it did. A last-ditch effort from the grave.” He glanced at the massive humanoid. “It died after that. We overtook your soldiers. Now this is where we stand, Scar. We bury the dead. Then we talk. But we’ll need the help of your two remaining soldiers to get it done quickly. My brother and I will need to move on. Without pursuit.”
    Rerry might have been young, but Scar knew that at the moment, Rerry had the upper hand on him. He nodded.
    Removing the gag from his mouth, Rerry said, “Give me your word in Elven.”
    “On the leaves from the limbs of Elome, I swear it,” Scar said. He spat the foul taste from his mouth. “Where did you get this cloth from?”
    “It was something I found on the giant.”
    “Blech!” Scar spat again. “You’re no swordsman. You’re a trickster.” He surveyed their surroundings. “How do you propose we bury them? We did not pursue you with shovels.”
    “No, but soldiers should always bring a spade, now shouldn’t they?”
    Scar frowned. Rerry was right about that, but Scar liked to move quick and light, unencumbered. “What do you know about an elven burial? You’re barely an elf. Neither is your father. A family of abominations.”
    “I am what I was intended to be and proud of it. The human blood in me makes me all the person your elven blood makes you. And it doesn’t come with all the snobbery. I like the strength and passion it lends.” Rerry stood. “Besides, my father Bayzog—the most powerful mage in the world who was gifted the Elderwood Staff from Elome’s council of full-blooded elves—has taught us all about the claims and customs of elven kind. The stones of these waters will make for honorable