Dragon Stones (Book One in the Dragon Stone Saga) by Kristian Alva

Author:Kristian Alva
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, young adult, dragons, elves, dwarves, dragon stones
Publisher: Kristian Alva

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Chapter 7: Jutland

The next morning was freezing cold, but clear. Thorin awoke before dawn and boiled some chicory root, making a delicious hot beverage for both of them. “Here you go, boy. Drink this up; it will warm your bones.” Thorin handed Elias half a cold biscuit and a steaming cup of root coffee.

“Thanks.” Elias accepted the tin cup gratefully. “This smells wonderful.”

“Drink up. We have a long distance to cover. First, we’ll buy you a horse in Jutland. Then we’ll travel to the Elder Willow.”

“How long will it take for us to reach the Elder Willow?” asked Elias.

“On horseback? At least a fortnight. Maybe longer. It’s at the eastern edge of the forest. We’ll have to cross Orvasse River, too.”

“Orvasse River! I’ve never traveled so far east. ”

“There’s a first time for everything, boy. After that, I expect that I’ll be taking you back with me to Mount Velik, which is in the north, past the emperor’s palace. We’ll have to be very careful near Morholt.”

“We’re going to the capital?”

“No, we’ll be going around it. I’m not sure if we’ll be following the coast or travelling inland. Either way, it’s a dangerous journey. Get used to travelling, lad—you’re in for an adventure.” Thorin smiled, but his eyes were serious. They finished the rest of their breakfast in silence, and then Elias scattered the evidence of their fire and covered the coals with dirt. As they exited the cave, Elias noticed Duster grazing on a stubborn patch of grass. Thorin placed their packs on Duster’s back, and they were off.

Both of them walked, with Duster trotting happily behind. Their pace was brisk. Elias warmed up quickly. After a few hours, he so hot that he had to remove his cloak. They didn’t stop for lunch—they ate cold rabbit and drank water along the way.

Thorin hummed old dwarvish songs most of the time. Elias understood a few words here and there—remnants of the old language that pervaded the speech of every race on the continent. Sometimes Thorin talked about the history of the dwarves and their accomplishments. It was interesting, if nothing else. Elias had never met another dwarf, and Thorin’s stories seemed supernatural. From the stories, Elias deduced that Thorin was at least a hundred years old. He wanted to ask his age, but he wasn’t sure if it was impolite to do so.

While he was growing up, Elias prodded his grandmother for information, and she was always reluctant to give it. Thorin spoke freely of his people and his grandmother’s exploits. It seemed incredible that he was talking about the same person—Elias never imagined that his quiet grandmother had such a wild history.

The trees grew sparser as the afternoon wore on, and eventually they arrived at a clearing at the top of a hill. In the distance, Elias could see the city of Jutland on the horizon. The city appeared larger than he remembered.

“There she is, boy. Old Jutland. Looks pretty much the same as I remember. The walls are taller; and they’ve replaced the old wooden drawbridge for an iron gate.

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