Read The Dragons of Argent and Silver (Tales from the New Earth #6) for Free Online

and the screams of flying creatures that looked like
leather-winged dinosaurs. The gods of Chaos had surely Changed the
world into something from the time of magic. The trees towered
hundreds of feet in the air and were connected with vines and hanging
with moss. Those who had once lived here would never have recognized
the forest now.
    It was familiar to Aethos in a way. He
had seen forests like these in the distant past. Like all elder
elementals, he had existed almost since the Earth was created. He had
seen civilizations rise and fall, had seen armies of legendary
creatures battle. He had known mages and witches, shamans and
clerics. He had even served wizards, when it pleased him to do so.
And he toiled for one now; not in servitude but out of respect.
    Simon O'Toole was different, the
elemental conceded. He was caring and warm. He refused to use any
elemental against their will, asking for their service, not ordering
it. He gave the elementals his loyalty and earned theirs in return.
He was, Aethos admitted to himself, quite extraordinary.
    Which was why the elemental was here,
flitting through the primordial forest on the trail of a red drake.
Because the wizard was in pain, tormented. He had bonded with a
silver dragon, merged with it somehow, using magic that Aethos had
never even known existed. And he had done it for the most altruistic
of reasons; to save his people. Only by combining his powers with
those of the last silver dragon could the wizard have hoped to defeat
the primal red.
    And he had defeated it, and survived.
It was the stupidest, bravest thing that Aethos could have ever
conceived of. How could he not, out of admiration alone, attempt to
help the wizard reverse the spell he now suffered under? How could he
not at least try?
    Added to that was the fact that the air
elementals revered the silver dragons. Of all the draconic races, the
silvers were the ones that Aethos and his people had the most in
common with. The dragons' powers were similar to those from the air
realm and their nobility was admirable. In the end, the elemental was
performing his task as much for Esmiralla's benefit as for the
wizard's. At least that is what he told himself.
    Aethos stopped abruptly, hovering
several dozen feet above the ground, and listened intently. The
surrounding chatter of the forest was fading quickly and a new sound
was taking its place.
    Roars and bellows of rage echoed
through the trees and the elemental turned in a slow circle, trying
to determine the direction they were coming from.
    Ah there, he thought, and shot through
the trees toward the noise.
    It was the sound of battle, of two
creatures locked in mortal combat. And the hissing, screeching
cacophony of one of the combatants was familiar to Aethos. It was the
battle cry of a drake.
    He dipped and wove through the
branches, avoiding blankets of thick moss and the twisted trunks of
massive trees. Finally the elemental saw the forest open up ahead and
the bright sunlight warn of an approaching clearing and he slowed and
moved forward cautiously.
    Peering out at a large meadow choked
with small shrubs, wildflowers and tall grasses, Aethos found the
source of the sounds of battle and stared in surprise.
    He had been right; one of the
combatants was a red drake. A dozen feet long from snout to forked
tail and covered in blood-red scales, the horned creature was
screeching like a steam whistle as it slashed and bit at its foe.
    The monster that it was battling was
something that Aethos had not seen, and had not missed, for eons. As
large as the drake but draped in thick white and yellow feathers; it
was a griffon.
    Its orange, serrated beak dripping with
green blood, the griffon's massive wings flapped and rattled as it
mindlessly attacked the drake, feathers flying in all directions.
    What could make a griffon, a flying
creature, attack a grounded monster like the drake, Aethos wondered.
He watched in detached interest as the battle raged on.
    A moment