Read Old Dark (The Last Dragon Lord Book 1) for Free Online Page A
Authors: Michael La Ronn
them.
Softly, then louder until their chanting was the only thing Dark could hear.
He shook with fury at the defiance.
The elder smirked as he led the chorus. “How do you like our tribute, My Lord?”
Dark swiped at the crowd, snagging several elves in his claws.
Blood splashed across his face. Bodies collapsed into the sand.
He roared at the elves as they ran frantically across the beach. His dragons stomped after them, crushing them in their jaws, engulfing them in flames, and grabbing them in their talons before flying high into the sky and then dropping them to their deaths.
The carnage invigorated him. The flames. The fallen.
He lashed his tail and caught elves in his jaws, cracking their spines and throwing them into the tide like trash.
“This is how I reward defiance!” he screamed.
Dark scanned the madness and found the elder lying in the sand. In a single leap, Dark landed on the man’s body, crushing bones.
He blew fire on the body. Then he spread the flames across the beach, burning everything in his line of sight. He walked through the wall of fire and harrumphed.
No mercy.
Not for defiance.
A shimmering sound ripped across the beach. Dark heard the ocean waves again, washing up against the shore.
“Moss!” Dark cried. “What did you do to the sound block?”
Moss circled overhead and called back, “I did nothing!”
Fear gripped Dark’s heart as he watched a group of elves dash into the woods.
The woods. They weren’t supposed to reach the woods!
The sound block had vanished and the protection wall had fallen.
“After them!” Dark screamed.
He started for the woods, but Norwyn stopped him. “Stay back, My Lord.”
Fenroot tore after the elves, and Dark cheered him on as the gray dragon ran into the woods.
Dark heard a low growl and a crack as a tree slammed against the ground. A cloud of dust rose over the treetops.
A terrible yell. Elven.
Then Fenroot roared.
But this roar was not victorious. It was pained and blood-curdling.
All the dragons on the beach stopped and turned toward the forest.
Dark knew the roar of defeat from hundreds of years of war. You couldn’t stand by and listen to a roar like that without rushing to your comrade’s side.
He sped past Norwyn.
“Stop!” Norwyn cried.
Dark ignored him, trampling a family of elves as he ripped into the forest.
“Fenroot,” he yelled. “Fenroot!”
The woods flew by in a blur, the moonlight shining through the branches above. His senses were on high alert as he tracked the trail with both sight and smell, until finally he came to a patch of felled trees.
Fenroot lay on the ground with a sword in his chest.
Dark glanced around the forest. Whoever attacked Fenroot was probably nearby. He turned his back to the dragon, circling his gaze around the area.
No one.
“My Lord,” Fenroot groaned. “The sword. Will you remove it?”
Dark gripped the sword and pulled. A rush of red spilled from Fenroot’s chest.
“The sword felt stronger than it should have,” Fenroot said. “Does it seem strange to you?”
Dark examined the bloody sword. It looked like a normal sword with a flowered hilt, made of metal from the mountains.
“No.”
“How does it taste?”
Dark licked the sword, tasting the iron of Fenroot’s blood.
The sword exploded in a pink blast, blowing Dark through a patch of trees. He landed on his back, a large gash across his face.
Dark stilled as he heard footsteps stalking slowly through the undergrowth. Soon, Fenroot’s head hovered above him. A group of elves joined him, staring at Dark incredulously.
“Did the curse work?” one of the elves asked.
“Will he die?” another asked.
“Wasn’t he supposed to be dead by now? It didn’t work!”
“Quiet,” Fenroot said. “This wouldn’t have happened if you damned elves had gotten the ratios right like I told you.”
Dragons and
Softly, then louder until their chanting was the only thing Dark could hear.
He shook with fury at the defiance.
The elder smirked as he led the chorus. “How do you like our tribute, My Lord?”
Dark swiped at the crowd, snagging several elves in his claws.
Blood splashed across his face. Bodies collapsed into the sand.
He roared at the elves as they ran frantically across the beach. His dragons stomped after them, crushing them in their jaws, engulfing them in flames, and grabbing them in their talons before flying high into the sky and then dropping them to their deaths.
The carnage invigorated him. The flames. The fallen.
He lashed his tail and caught elves in his jaws, cracking their spines and throwing them into the tide like trash.
“This is how I reward defiance!” he screamed.
Dark scanned the madness and found the elder lying in the sand. In a single leap, Dark landed on the man’s body, crushing bones.
He blew fire on the body. Then he spread the flames across the beach, burning everything in his line of sight. He walked through the wall of fire and harrumphed.
No mercy.
Not for defiance.
A shimmering sound ripped across the beach. Dark heard the ocean waves again, washing up against the shore.
“Moss!” Dark cried. “What did you do to the sound block?”
Moss circled overhead and called back, “I did nothing!”
Fear gripped Dark’s heart as he watched a group of elves dash into the woods.
The woods. They weren’t supposed to reach the woods!
The sound block had vanished and the protection wall had fallen.
“After them!” Dark screamed.
He started for the woods, but Norwyn stopped him. “Stay back, My Lord.”
Fenroot tore after the elves, and Dark cheered him on as the gray dragon ran into the woods.
Dark heard a low growl and a crack as a tree slammed against the ground. A cloud of dust rose over the treetops.
A terrible yell. Elven.
Then Fenroot roared.
But this roar was not victorious. It was pained and blood-curdling.
All the dragons on the beach stopped and turned toward the forest.
Dark knew the roar of defeat from hundreds of years of war. You couldn’t stand by and listen to a roar like that without rushing to your comrade’s side.
He sped past Norwyn.
“Stop!” Norwyn cried.
Dark ignored him, trampling a family of elves as he ripped into the forest.
“Fenroot,” he yelled. “Fenroot!”
The woods flew by in a blur, the moonlight shining through the branches above. His senses were on high alert as he tracked the trail with both sight and smell, until finally he came to a patch of felled trees.
Fenroot lay on the ground with a sword in his chest.
Dark glanced around the forest. Whoever attacked Fenroot was probably nearby. He turned his back to the dragon, circling his gaze around the area.
No one.
“My Lord,” Fenroot groaned. “The sword. Will you remove it?”
Dark gripped the sword and pulled. A rush of red spilled from Fenroot’s chest.
“The sword felt stronger than it should have,” Fenroot said. “Does it seem strange to you?”
Dark examined the bloody sword. It looked like a normal sword with a flowered hilt, made of metal from the mountains.
“No.”
“How does it taste?”
Dark licked the sword, tasting the iron of Fenroot’s blood.
The sword exploded in a pink blast, blowing Dark through a patch of trees. He landed on his back, a large gash across his face.
Dark stilled as he heard footsteps stalking slowly through the undergrowth. Soon, Fenroot’s head hovered above him. A group of elves joined him, staring at Dark incredulously.
“Did the curse work?” one of the elves asked.
“Will he die?” another asked.
“Wasn’t he supposed to be dead by now? It didn’t work!”
“Quiet,” Fenroot said. “This wouldn’t have happened if you damned elves had gotten the ratios right like I told you.”
Dragons and