Dragon Isle (The Legend of Vanx Malic Book 2) by Mathias M. R

Author:Mathias, M. R. [Mathias, M. R.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Michael Robb Mathias Jr.
Published: 2012-11-28T16:00:00+00:00

Trevin squinted out at the fresh pile of dung a young red wyrm had left outside their hiding place. He was certain that he was seeing several mushrooms push up out of the foul, barrel keg-sized pile of muck. The smell was disgusting, but the phenomenon was curious.

That night had been filled with horrid sounds: roars of anger and triumph, calls of agony, and the crunching of bones and trees. It sounded as if every dark creature that had ever lived had come out to battle for some unknown prize.

The area suddenly quieted down, though. It was near dawn, and the silence drew Trevin’s concern. His ruined foot had grown stiff and sore, and Zeezle still slept soundly beside him. The Zythian had slept through the long, tension-filled span of time when the smaller red was traipsing about outside their shelter, picking its place to relieve itself. Since then Trevin had tried to wake Zeezle a few times, but only halfheartedly. The wild-eyed heathen had saved his life, and by the looks of it he needed every bit of rest he could get. He wanted Zeezle to use his sharp eyes to see if there was a place for him to hide along the entrance to Pyra’s lair. The idea that he could hide in a crack, run out and jab the dragon with his sword, fill a vial with blood, and then toss it out of harm’s way for someone else to grab before the dragon turned and ended him, kept running through his mind. No doubt he would die doing such a thing, but Zeezle could retrieve the vial after and hopefully get it to Prince Russet. He was so certain of his plan that he decided to wake Zeezle now.

He splashed water from the skin across Zeezle’s face and the Zythian fluttered open his lids halfway, revealing eyes still reddened by fatigue. Although the sight of those semi-luminous orbs was unsettling, Trevin was relieved to see him awake.

Zeezle took the waterskin and drank from it. He splashed a handful of the liquid on his wild-looking face. His nose crinkled as it was filled with the stench of the recently laid pile of dragon dung outside the hole. He made a disgusted gulping gesture, as if he’d swallowed some rotten morsel of food and was on the verge of heaving it back up. The look caused Trevin to chuckle, despite all the angst and pain he was feeling.

“I hate this place,” Zeezle whispered as he peered out of the shelter to take in the quality of the darkness that surrounded them.

“This island is the most horrible place I’ve ever been,” Trevin agreed.

“Not the island,” Zeezle corrected. “I love this island. I hate this valley. You humans can only smell the very faintest part of the stench. If the smell here was an onion, you’d only be smelling that dried outer skin. I can smell the raw center under all those layers, the part that brings tears to your eyes.

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