Read Witchbreaker (Dragon Apocalypse) for Free Online

slid along the hard, glassy surface of the scales without managing in the least to relieve the itch. She scratched with more pressure, and succeeded only in slicing open the tip of her finger along the edge of one of the scales. She sat up in her tent and reached for her belt. She used the hard surface of the buckle to scrape her ankle vigorously.
    She stopped scraping as she heard someone laugh directly behind her.
    She spun around and found a pygmy standing not a yard away. How had he gotten into the tent? At least he didn’t appear menacing. For starters, he was elderly, his face looking like wrinkled leather over his skull. He was so thin she could have counted his ribs. He was bald, devoid of any of scars that most pygmies sported. He was also missing the pygmy dyes that rendered river pygmies blue. He was white as cotton, save for his eyes, black and empty sockets in the dark tent. The skull-like quality of his face was enhanced by his grin, which showed his teeth.
    She reached out to grab him as she said, “How did you get in here?” He stepped backward and her fingers closed on empty air. He laughed softly, then sighed, shaking his head.
    She lunged, this time trying to grab him with both hands. He jumped backward. He laughed as he watched her hands flail uselessly in the space he’d stood a heartbeat earlier. But his back was now pressed against the wall of the tent. There was no more room to retreat.
    “You aren’t going to think this is funny when I’m through with you,” she said, reaching for his throat.
    He stepped backward, fading through the tent as if it were made of fog instead of heavy oilcloth. Her hands smacked into it with a thump. She stared at the empty wall. Was she dreaming again? Admittedly, she was exhausted, and had been drifting in and out of the antechamber of sleep. But she was definitely awake now. Wasn’t she?
    From outside the wall, the pygmy giggled.
    She scrambled to the door of the tent, wearing only her cotton slip. She ran around the canvas walls and found the pale pygmy glowing in the moonlight. He was standing a few feet in front of the heart-shaped boulder. He laughed harder as he saw her, tears running down his cheeks.
    “What’s so funny?” she asked.
    “You,” the pygmy gasped, pointing at her. He spoke in the Silver Tongue, but she didn’t recognize his accent. “The demons in the Forest of Torment told me I should bear witness to the return of the Destroyer.” He wiped his wrinkled cheeks. “I can’t believe they mistook you for something so dangerous.”
    “Demons? Forest of Torment? What the hell are you talking about?”
    The pygmy shook his head. “It’s precisely hell that I’m speaking of, but there’s no point in explaining. You’re nothing but a desperate and foolish girl.” He sighed. “Demons. I should have known they were trying to trick me. The dragon will devour you and return to his slumber.”
    “The dragon?” she asked. “Are you talking about Rott? What do you mean, he’ll devour me?”
    “You’re nothing but a tick, clinging to Rott’s flesh. You may feast upon him only a little while before he catches you between his teeth.”
    “Who are you? How do you know this?”
    He turned away, facing the boulder. He glanced over his shoulder and said, in a serious tone, “I’ve had my fill of conversation with the dead this day. At least those other souls accepted their fate.” He took another step toward the boulder before looking back again. “Struggle if it amuses you. In the end, this is all there is of life. Take some comfort in the notion that your death may serve as a cautionary tale for others. Now, I must depart. I’m late for the Inquisition.”
    There was the sound of leaves crunching from the left side of the boulder. Brand appeared around the corner and asked, “Who are you talking to, Sorrow?”
    Sorrow glanced at him, then back to the pygmy. But the pygmy was gone.
    She ran forward and placed her hands on the rock.