The Roar of a Dragon by Robert Blanchard

Author:Robert Blanchard [Blanchard, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RowanVale Books
Published: 2016-03-30T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 3

I awoke the next morning feeling more clearheaded than I’d been in a long time; I felt at peace after my ‘sparring session’ the night before. I had spoken of a set of beliefs to Timor the night before, and one of them had been, ‘If something is not within your power to control, there’s no point in beating yourself over the head with your own club.’ In other words, if you can’t control something, worrying about it isn’t going to help. The instant I remembered that belief, the raging turmoil in my mind receded even further.

I could hear Timor and Iskandor in conversation outside the cave, speaking seemingly of their impending journey. It seemed that they were resolved to prevent the crisis in Delmar, no matter what price they had to pay. I admired their morals, and was in no way against what they intended to do…I just wasn’t sure I could help them, not after what had happened.

As fond as Iskandor seemed to be of Timor, I didn’t know that I held him in as high a regard. Perhaps it was too early to judge Timor — we’d clearly gotten off on the wrong foot — but I didn’t like his sudden appearance, his perky personality, or his (at times) condescending attitude. But the part of him that really stuck in my craw was that he had assumed that I would just go along with him on this little adventure, after everything that had happened. If not for that assumption, I might have been able to like him.

However, someone like Timor could never know the type of pain I had endured, both physically and emotionally. For that reason alone, it occurred to me that we would never truly see eye-to-eye.

I picked my sheaths up off the floor of the cave, and proceeded to strap them to my back under my black cape. There was a separation between the fabric of my cape and that of my hood, where the top of the twin sheathes would fit in between. Once the sheaths were in place and the swords back in them, I made ready to depart the cave.

Outside, in the cloudy and foggy day, Timor was studying from an enormous book — which I could only assume was a book of magic — and Iskandor was resting atop the cave entrance, but as I emerged, their eyes turned to me, and their expressions became ones of apprehension. After my last words of the previous night, they clearly weren’t sure what my current attitude would be.

Timor in particular had a look of hesitation on his face, as if he had something to say but wasn’t sure what words he should use. Not waiting for him to speak, I walked by them without another glance, heading for the pond, and took a few sips of water. In the water, I once again caught a glimpse of my white eyes, a constant reminder of my suffering.

Iskandor had hunted another deer, which Timor had cooked, so I ate my fill in silence, sitting by the campfire.

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