Riddle in Stone (The Riddle in Stone Series - Book One) by Evert Robert

Author:Evert, Robert [Evert, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: FICTION/Fantasy/General
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2013-11-18T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirty

Edmund stepped even closer to his unsuspecting prey.

Cast the spell again. It needs to be bigger. You can’t afford to miss.

“Forstørre nå.”

The brass ring that he found on the severed finger grew to the size of a fat man’s belt. After weeks of practicing in the cold darkness of the abandoned mines, he was now able to cast his spells at will.

That should do nicely.

Is this really necessary?

Yes! You need that sword and lantern.

He stalked within twenty feet of the lantern light.

“That’s good,” the adult goblin said. “But you still need to follow through. Remember, they’ll be taller than you. So swing high and down. Go for their head. Force them backwards and then use your momentum to lunge forward with the second strike. Just like this . . . ”

This was the third time that Edmund had come across this father teaching his young son how to fight with a wooden sword. Why they were in the mines, he couldn’t guess—perhaps for privacy, perhaps so the young goblin child could concentrate better. Edmund didn’t care. Now he was ready for them.

Closer . . .

“Good,” the father said. “But remember, you have to be prepared to block as well. Don’t overexpose yourself. Stand like this.”

Take your time . . . Don’t rush . . .

Holding his breath, Edmund inched through the shadows.

Stick to the plan. You need the lantern and weapon. Just drop the ring over his head and yank it back. Then cast the counter spell. Easy as getting out of bed . . .

The father parried his son’s wild blows and countered with a soft jab to the boy’s midsection. The boy doubled over, the air knocked out of him.

“See,” the father said, disgusted. “You aren’t listening to me. You left yourself open. Now pay attention or you’ll lose the next tournament as well. Is that what you want? Do you want to be a loser? Or do you want to be a warrior?”

“A warrior,” the child managed to say as he rubbed his stomach.

“That’s right! Now don’t forget that the enemy has many more weapons than what he’s holding in his hand. He can kick, bite, hit—throw dirt in your face. They’re animals. You have to protect yourself for all possible actions. Understand?”

The boy sucked in air, nodded, and resumed the fighting stance, his wooden sword held high.

Stones crunched beneath Edmund’s bare feet.

You’re close enough. Just rush him and jump on his back.

No. Get closer. You’re no match for him if he reaches that sword first.

Edmund waited for them to begin swinging again, the reverberating clash of wood against wood and the grunts from the boy concealing the sounds from his footfall. He stalked closer and closer.

Patience . . .

The father’s wooden sword connected with the boy’s left ear. The boy dropped his mock weapon, tears flowing as he clutched the side of his head.

“All right,” the father said. “None of that! Warriors don’t cry. If you want to cry, I can arrange it. Is that

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