The Legend of Vanx Malic: Book 02 - Dragon Isle by M. R. Mathias Page A
Authors: M. R. Mathias
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but Reen wasn’t the only one who was pulling at him.
Vanx, still clutching the jug and the bundle of gear in his hands, looked up to see a blurry vision of sparkling chain mail topped by an even blurrier pumpkin-shaped head.
Sir Earlin.
Vanx rode a burst of adrenaline then, and got himself to his feet. He let Darbon lead him into the trees and collapsed there. It was a good thing, too, because another jet of crackling lightning breath erupted behind him and consumed the exposed knight.
Reen had gotten behind a tree, too, and the wide trunk did well to protect him.
Vanx smelled Sir Earlin’s flesh as it was electrified on the bone. There was no sound other than the dragon’s roaring exhalation. He caught a glimpse of the brave man’s form as it toppled to the sand. Vanx would never forget the sight, as blurry as it was. The knight’s chain armor was glowing as red as if it had just been pulled from a forge fire, and his skin, every shuddering inch of it, was a greasy black char.
The angry dragon withdrew its long neck when another crossbow bolt thumped into its hide.
Bernald, the fled seaman, had fired the bolt. Reen grabbed the pack and helped Vanx get deeper into the tree line, and there they gathered themselves. To their relief the dragon backed away from the trees and left them.
There were two tents in the supply pack and several waterskins, along with a lantern and some oil. After inspecting himself and washing the grit from his mouth and face, Vanx decided that he would be all right to track down the others. His ass was blistered a bit, and half his hair was burned into a hard clump that he reluctantly cut off with a dagger. He was alive, though, and whole.
Reen was scarred from his left shoulder down to his hand. His sleeve had caught fire and the material appeared to have melted into his flesh. The burns were deep and the meat on his arm was cooked hard in some places. The sailor didn’t complain, though. He downed three sips from the jug of laudanum and then bit down on a stick as Bernald tended his wounds.
Vanx didn’t relish what he had to do, but he did it. He ventured to the edge of the trees and peeled open the neck of Sir Earlin’s armor. He reached into the still hot opening and fought to hold down his guts. He found what he was after with relative ease. The Blood Stone was as hot as the flesh melted around it. It pulled free with a wet, sucking pop.
After taking two of the waterskins and a tarp, Vanx left the two sailors and Sir Earlin’s corpse and went after the others. His mind hadn’t had a chance to process what had just happened and why, and he wasted no time thinking on it as he went. He had a strong urge to find his friends before nightfall.
Underneath the willow
my Molly kissed me there.
She said she’d kiss me more and more
If my coppers I did share.
– Parydon Cobbles
S ometime in the middle of the night Vanx found them. Darbon nearly put an arrow through his chest as he came in close.
“You smell like my uncle’s smithery after a holiday feast,” Darbon said curiously. “What happened to your hair?”
“Are your eyes as keen as all that?” Vanx asked, trying to avoid repeating the horror of Sir Earlin’s death more than once. While sloshing through the marsh for the last few hours he decided that he would tell them all together on the morrow. At the moment all he wanted was to get his mud-caked britches off and let the cool night breeze blow across his sand-chafed ass. He was as exhausted as he’d ever been.
“I’ve been on watch since we camped,” Darbon boasted proudly. “I was supposed to wake Trevin a while ago but decided to let him sleep. My eyes have adjusted to the moonlight.”
“Wake him up, Darbon,” Vanx said flatly as he unrolled his blanket. “You’ll do us no good if you’re falling down asleep on the hike tomorrow. Besides, you didn’t see me until I was already on you. Think about that as you drift off to sleep.”
Vanx hadn’t
Vanx, still clutching the jug and the bundle of gear in his hands, looked up to see a blurry vision of sparkling chain mail topped by an even blurrier pumpkin-shaped head.
Sir Earlin.
Vanx rode a burst of adrenaline then, and got himself to his feet. He let Darbon lead him into the trees and collapsed there. It was a good thing, too, because another jet of crackling lightning breath erupted behind him and consumed the exposed knight.
Reen had gotten behind a tree, too, and the wide trunk did well to protect him.
Vanx smelled Sir Earlin’s flesh as it was electrified on the bone. There was no sound other than the dragon’s roaring exhalation. He caught a glimpse of the brave man’s form as it toppled to the sand. Vanx would never forget the sight, as blurry as it was. The knight’s chain armor was glowing as red as if it had just been pulled from a forge fire, and his skin, every shuddering inch of it, was a greasy black char.
The angry dragon withdrew its long neck when another crossbow bolt thumped into its hide.
Bernald, the fled seaman, had fired the bolt. Reen grabbed the pack and helped Vanx get deeper into the tree line, and there they gathered themselves. To their relief the dragon backed away from the trees and left them.
There were two tents in the supply pack and several waterskins, along with a lantern and some oil. After inspecting himself and washing the grit from his mouth and face, Vanx decided that he would be all right to track down the others. His ass was blistered a bit, and half his hair was burned into a hard clump that he reluctantly cut off with a dagger. He was alive, though, and whole.
Reen was scarred from his left shoulder down to his hand. His sleeve had caught fire and the material appeared to have melted into his flesh. The burns were deep and the meat on his arm was cooked hard in some places. The sailor didn’t complain, though. He downed three sips from the jug of laudanum and then bit down on a stick as Bernald tended his wounds.
Vanx didn’t relish what he had to do, but he did it. He ventured to the edge of the trees and peeled open the neck of Sir Earlin’s armor. He reached into the still hot opening and fought to hold down his guts. He found what he was after with relative ease. The Blood Stone was as hot as the flesh melted around it. It pulled free with a wet, sucking pop.
After taking two of the waterskins and a tarp, Vanx left the two sailors and Sir Earlin’s corpse and went after the others. His mind hadn’t had a chance to process what had just happened and why, and he wasted no time thinking on it as he went. He had a strong urge to find his friends before nightfall.
Underneath the willow
my Molly kissed me there.
She said she’d kiss me more and more
If my coppers I did share.
– Parydon Cobbles
S ometime in the middle of the night Vanx found them. Darbon nearly put an arrow through his chest as he came in close.
“You smell like my uncle’s smithery after a holiday feast,” Darbon said curiously. “What happened to your hair?”
“Are your eyes as keen as all that?” Vanx asked, trying to avoid repeating the horror of Sir Earlin’s death more than once. While sloshing through the marsh for the last few hours he decided that he would tell them all together on the morrow. At the moment all he wanted was to get his mud-caked britches off and let the cool night breeze blow across his sand-chafed ass. He was as exhausted as he’d ever been.
“I’ve been on watch since we camped,” Darbon boasted proudly. “I was supposed to wake Trevin a while ago but decided to let him sleep. My eyes have adjusted to the moonlight.”
“Wake him up, Darbon,” Vanx said flatly as he unrolled his blanket. “You’ll do us no good if you’re falling down asleep on the hike tomorrow. Besides, you didn’t see me until I was already on you. Think about that as you drift off to sleep.”
Vanx hadn’t
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