Lords of the Winter Stars by Unknown

Lords of the Winter Stars by Unknown

Author:Unknown
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 0000000000000
Published: 2021-10-31T02:34:49+00:00


Outside the walls, the apron of the Paramont Plain was a picture of chaos. Black smoke poured from an all-terrain vehicle that had been left on the exact spot where it had run out of gas. Two jeeps lay nearby, overturned and crushed where three-toed dragon feet, equipped with six-inch talons, had stomped on them in their frenzied dance.

When Daniel made it down and walked outside, he saw about two dozen marines standing just outside the Lytton Hall gates. They did not appear to be enthusiastic about venturing further out onto the Paramont Plain.

The castle staff were lined against the wall, armed with clubs and kitchen knives. The simple tools were more than the marines had brought with them.

The old duff-dragon, who was known simply as Old Duffy or just Duffy, kept flapping his mighty leather wings but never got off the ground by more than just a few feet. His wings raised great spirals of dust that looked like mini tornadoes. His sleek sauroid head kept bobbing from side to side. It meant he must still be suffering seizures because it was not a natural motion for a dragon with a massive neck and muscles so tight they could not flex or bend sideways. Whenever his wings raised the dragon’s egg-shaped body a few feet into the air, Duffy would give out a hideous, blood-curdling shriek. The shrieks changed to wailing moans the moment the wings’ uplift failed and the body crashed to the ground, usually on top of another military vehicle abandoned during training exercises. If the vehicle still contained some gas and Duffy’s landing crushed the tank, there would be a great blast. A ball of fire shot into the sky then died in wafts of thick black smoke. Duffy did not seem to suffer any injury during the explosions other than having his leather wings singed. If the dragon was indeed having seizures, then the blasts would have further contributed to his frenzy.

Daniel saw Duffy’s massive beak slam into the ground with such force more than half of it got buried in the hard-baked clay. He looked around to see what had happened to the four idiots who had followed another idiot’s orders and brought a net to capture the mountain of scale-covered flesh and tough leather. He spotted them way back by the gate, standing with the other marines, the net coiled at their feet.

“Right,” he murmured, “I dare you to go out there and try to net ten tons of fury suffering seizures.”

“He’s not having seizures, master.” Daniel heard a soft, lisping voice and turned. It was one of the servants, a youth no older than twelve, holding something that made Daniel’s eyes grow with surprise.

“A whistle?” he asked, looking doubtfully at the dragon who once again tried to take to the sky and fell down so hard the vibrations carried all the way to Burton Hall.

“A silent whistle, master,” the boy explained. “We use it to put Duffy to sleep when he gets restless and starts to thrash about in his stall.



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