Dragonlance: Bridges of Time, Book 04 - The Rose and the Skull by Jeff Crook

Author:Jeff Crook [Crook, Jeff]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-7869-1336-7
Publisher: Fanversion Publishing
Published: 2015-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 17

Four draconians, their clawed feet bruised and bleeding, scrambled among the rocks and boulders of one of the most barren and forlorn regions any of them had ever seen. Every broken stone and pebble seemed sharper than the obsidian blades and arrowheads of Abanasinian warriors, every bush was a thorn bush, every vine a tangleroot, every stunted tree spiked with needles or prickly with splinters.

The one in the lead was the smallest of the four. A baaz draconian, his scales had a brassy golden hue, and he bore two ram-like horns curling from his sinister reptilian head. He wore a dirty green cloak thrown over his folded wings, as though he were a ranger or scout. The next two had scales of a coppery tint and wore tight-fitting outfits of blackened leather designed to allow full range of motion both to their limbs and to the batlike wings sprouting from their backs. These kapaks, as they were called, were larger than their baaz companion, and they pushed him relentlessly with their taunts and venomous comments. The fourth of the group was the largest. His reptilian scales glimmered with a silvery sheen, glaringly reflecting the light of the midday sun. He wore armor of chain and plate specifically designed to fit his draconic body. A long, heavy sword was slung across his back between his wings. He was a sivak, one of the most powerful of all draconian races.

They were following a trail that seemed little more than an ancient wash in the grim and waterless mountains surrounding them. Perhaps it was a goat path, though no goats were to be seen. They had not seen another living creature since the sun rose over this accursed land. They stumbled wearily along, stones turning under their feet, slippery shale sliding away beneath them and bringing them to their knees again and again, snarling at each other, spitting curses with each breath.

"There's nothing here!" one of the kapaks growled.

"This is the way," the sivak answered in an even tone. "Krass has been here many times in the two years since we arrived on this island. Isn't that right, Krass?"

The baaz wearily nodded his head.

"I think Krass is lost," the kapak said. "Why would his lordship live out here in this barren waste, when he has all of Mount Nevermind to do with as he pleases?"

"You have answered your own question, Dreg," the sivak said. "The gnomes of Mount Nevermind give him no peace."

"Rebels?" the kapak, Dreg, asked.

"No, tinkers. They're always poking and prodding at him, trying to find out how he works. He can't kill them all. He's tried. They're worse than gully dwarves," the sivak said.

As they topped a small, razorback ridge, the baaz scout stopped and pointed into the valley on the other side. Clambering up next to him, the other draconians saw a wide, low-roofed cave yawning blackly from the opposite hillside. A tendril of oily smoke streamed from the upper lip of the opening.

"There it is," the sivak gasped while pressing a fist into his cramping side.

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