Monster Wrangler 2: A LitRPG Fantasy by Hunter Dane

Author:Hunter Dane [Dane, Hunter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Royal Guard Publishing LLC
Published: 2025-10-20T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

RIDDEN BY THE DRAGONKIN

The post fence Bucky sat next to brought back a host of memories, not all of them pleasant. It marked the spot where he and Mikla had rallied the Silverbelt Clan’s kobolds against Enrick Lesher, his Jackdaw band, and their hired knights.

Beyond the fence lay the shattered remains of the Fitzgerald farmhouse. Only the blackened frame of the structure remained, which in the dim light had given the illusion of being a whole building.

Off to one side, the barn hadn’t fared as badly. The near side had been consumed by flame, but the rear half had remained intact by some fluke of chance or fate.

Wilder hadn’t returned to the Fitzgerald farmstead since the fight. But he’d heard from their neighbors that they’d stripped and burned the bodies of the fallen Jackdaws.

As for the owners themselves, there were no other Fitzgeralds in the Realm of Astriel. So the adjoining farmsteads had buried the family with the sacred rites of Artemis and left the property vacant, to be claimed by the forest or any new homesteaders who might arrive.

“Over there,” Mikla said, indicating a spot to the right, close to the now-overgrown fields. “That’s where the neighboring farms’ familiar laid the Fitzgeralds to rest.”

Sure enough, six raised mounds of earth jutted from the sod, along with a simple representation of Artemis’ bow. Wilder nodded grimly, even as he felt the first drops of rain pelt against his exposed hands and face.

“This is going to be a hell of a lot more intense than a summer shower,” he declared. “And since there’s no farmhouse or family to ask for shelter, we’re going to have to improvise.”

“You do have a talent for that,” Mikla agreed. “But what do you have in mind, Goodman?”

“It looks like the Fitzgeralds have no use for the remains of their old barn now,” he said bluntly. “Come on, even with half of it gone, there’s enough of a shelter there to keep the rain off us.”

Wilder had been prepared for an objection, or even a full-blown argument, but Mikla didn’t object.

More rain whipped past as the wind picked up another notch. The droplets pelted them like cold pebbles. Yet more lightning illuminated their path as they dismounted and picked their way through what was left of a gate and over to the half-ruined barn.

The Fitzgerald’s neighbors had stripped the remaining half of the barn of anything of value. That included every scrap of hay, every tool of iron, every strap of leather. But the wooden doors at the rear remained intact, as well as a section of roof and three sturdy walls.

As a result, they were able to get the horses out of the weather just as the heavens opened up with a downpour that Wilder’s grandmother would’ve described as a ‘toad strangler’.

The back half of the barn had been untouched by the fire that had consumed the front, though the smell of burnt wood clung to everything. Also, the lack of a fourth wall meant that their shelter would be drafty, but at least it would be dry.

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