Cold Hearted Son of a Witch (Dragoneers Saga) by M. R. Mathias Page A

his feet and carefully sheathed his sword on his back. It was too long for him to hang at his waist, but Mysterian had promised he would grow into it. He adjusted his triangular-shaped shoulder armor and then dusted himself off. He took an offered tin of water from a serious-looking wide-eyed boy, and then surveyed the damage.
    A busted wagon wheel that was already under repair, two nasty-looking injuries among the men, and one wound that was undoubtedly mortal was the extent of the damage. Not nearly as bad as the attack just outside of the recently reclaimed Three Forks Stronghold. They’d lost five men and a wagon in that one.
    There was a concern when one of the rangers pointed out the small, stunted horns growing out of the head of one of the bigger trolls. Jenka looked it over and was overcome with a sick feeling of dread. The thing looked a lot like the Goblin King had. Thicker and stronger than the other creatures they’d slain, and far more intimidating. He wasn’t certain it was a troll at all, but a moan from one of the injured stole his attention and he gladly moved away.
    Jade helped Jenka heal the two men and then urged Jenka to climb onto his back so that they could scout ahead. Before long the wheel was fixed, and the whole seven-wagon train was moving north again.
    Due to Swineherd’s urging, the caravan moved well into the evening, and they didn’t stop until they made the man’s huge boarded-up farmstead.   The travelers were glad for it, especially when one of Swineherd’s sons shafted a big wild sow that was roaming the pens and put it on a spit over the common rooms pit.
    Jade was also pleased. He found himself a fat pig, too. He carried his off into the woods east of the farm to feed.
    Jenka didn’t mingle with the rangers much. He never did. They all thought of him as Jericho De Swasso’s son. He didn’t want to hear fireside tales, or toss coins with people who didn’t know who he really was. He just wanted to know if Zah felt the same way about him as he did her. He also wanted to find Lemmy. The task of taking the elvish mute to the druid’s temple held a modicum of excitement about it. The prospect of seeing Lem was also tempered with the memory of his mother’s death. He had to see to that, too. Maybe the sorrow that sometimes showed in his expression allowed him to be left alone most of the time. Whether that was the reason or not, he couldn’t say, but the others didn’t bother him much.
    For their whole existence, exterminating dragons had been the King’s Rangers’ business. Now the son of one of the greatest rangers who ever lived was a dragon-riding hero. Many of them gave him a smile or a nod of respect. Some of them looked as if they felt guilty for hating dragons so freely for so long. Others still despised the wyrms, despite the fact that they had saved the kingdom from annihilation. Jenka couldn’t blame them for their strong feelings. Mudged dragons were savage, unreasoning bastards, especially the darker-colored ones. Luckily, the inbreeding had stunted their growth as well as their intellect. For the most part the mudged were not much bigger than Jade was now. There were exceptions to that rule, though. Massive reds, as large as a modest stronghold, sometimes appeared in the sky. Using a clever spell, Jade had once killed one that was twenty times his size. The skies had been relatively clear of them as of late. Whether from the Dragoneers asserting themselves along the wall or for some other unknown reason, they had seemingly fled the lands south of the mountains.
    The next day things started moving along. The rangers were anxious. Commander Stark, who had taken Commander Brody’s place as the head of Kingsmen’s Keep, formed up a twelve-man mounted party. He wanted Jenka and Jade to escort them the rest of the way without the slow wagons. The men were heavily armed and they worked their way north with precision and haste. Jenka was able to fly over Crag, but