Read Riddle in Stone (The Riddle in Stone Series - Book One) for Free Online Page B

by a nice, cheery fire. Sound good?”
    Reluctantly, the dog took the sullied beef and held it in her mouth like she were smoking a pipe.
    “All right.” Edmund shouldered his pack and bit into one of the large red apples that he had taken from his pantry. “Off we go. Onward to destiny and all that!”
    Onward to the Star of Iliandor and my first glorious adventure!
    They began walking eastward along the overgrown road.
    “I suppose you’ll need a name,” Edmund said after they had gone a couple miles. He was hoping that talking would get his mind off his labored breathing and stiffening legs. Plus, he wanted something to do. Examining the trees as they passed and mentally reciting each page from Iliandor’s diary—mulling over every word for hidden meanings—only occupied his mind for so long.
    “Do you have a name?”
    The dog didn’t answer.
    “Well, you, you, you seem fit enough. You must have a home. Aren’t you going to miss it?”
    Aren’t you?
    The dog looked at him as if she were happy to be anywhere.
    “Very well. Back to a name. You’ll need one, won’t you?”
    Edmund pondered this, his mind pleased to have something new to conquer.
    There were many dogs in the histories he had read, especially of the northern race to which he belonged. But they were all large, wolfish animals of great strength and heroism. Some were even said to have magic powers. And all of them always saved their owners in some absurdly spectacular way, usually at the expense of their own lives.
    Perhaps that is why having a canine companion appealed to him on some level. It felt right somehow. Plus, he didn’t like the idea of sleeping out in the wild by himself, waking up with the business end of a sword inches away from his nose. Her quick ears could definitely come in handy.
    He studied the black and white mutt as she trotted along beside him. She stared up at him, her tongue hanging to one side of her mouth. She blinked.
    “I’m not very good at this,” Edmund admitted. “I don’t know the f-first thing about animals, actually. It’s not my area of study.”
    She didn’t reply.
    “Or people for that matter. Especially people. Sometimes I think they are stupider than you are. No offense, I mean.”
    No offense seemed to be taken.
    They followed the road around a hill crowned with oaks, many of their red and orange leaves gliding to the ground in the warm autumn breeze.
    “One of the seamstresses in town, back in Rood, Hilde, had a dog once. It was a big drooling beast. You know the kind? It had all these folds in its face and these yellowish teeth jut-jut-jutting out from its lower jaw. Hideous creature. Its name was Wellington, if I recall correctly.”
    They looked at each other.
    “You don’t look like a Wellington, if you ask me.”
    The dog’s furry head bobbed up and down, apparently agreeing.
    They both fell silent for another mile.
    “You’ll need something that will serve you well, you know,” Edmund said eventually. “Something that will enhance you. Something that’ll strike fear into people’s hearts or give you authority. Not like . . . ‘Edmund.’”
    There was no disagreement from the dog. She just continued nodding, like a disinterested cleric listening to a confession he had heard many times before.
    “See those ruins?” Edmund pointed to the top of a steep, craggy hill that was gradually growing larger in front of them.
    The dog examined the distant hill.
    “That’s Endris Haflen, or at least it was. It used to be an important city in these parts. Huge markets. People used to come from miles around to trade there. But then it was destroyed by the Undead King. It was his la-la-last major victory before Iliandor and his personal guard turned the tide. I bet that you didn’t know that. Had Iliandor failed to check the goblin army’s progress here, Rood would have been next. Not exactly a pleasant picture, though I don’t know why. It was ages ago. Still, it’s thought-provoking,