Clutch Of The Cleric (Book 4) Read Online Free PDF Page A

long! Wh at do you ask that for?” Brenwar said, fists on hips. “Afraid ye might wake up with a tail?” He held out his arm and pulled me up. Checked my behind. “All clear.”
    The others laughed.
    “Are you alright, Dragon?” Sasha said. “You’ve only been down a few minutes. Were you worried that you might have changed again?”
    “No,” I said , clutching my chest. It ached, and yes, I had been worried. But now I was relieved. Same day. Same me. A good thing. I rubbed my chest. “Great Guzan, that was quite a walloping. I don’t think I’ve ever blacked out before from a hit. Ugh. Still hurts.”
    “Good thing you ha d Dwarven breastplate on,” Brenwar said. “Else yer stomach be on the other side of the village. Hah.”
    A good thing indeed. But something troubled me.
    “I took that blow for you, Brenwar. If you weren’t so slow—”
    “Slow!” His beard bristled. He shook his hammer in my face. “I’ll show you slow, Dragon. On yer feet! I’ll put another bump on yer head.”
    Shum stepped between us. “Let’s focus on the wounded. We’re all fine. For now, that is.”
    “What do you mean by that?” I said.
    “Can you walk?” Shum said.
    “Of course I can.” I started to stand. “ Oof!” Sweat beaded on my head.
    “Let me help you, Dragon,” Ben said, offering his hand.
    “No, I’m alright.” I eyed Brenwar. “I’ll just be more careful who I decide to save next time.”
    “Pah!” Brenwar said, walking away.
    Shum stood and waited. Fingers locked over his pot belly. Bayzog was beside him.
    My eyes rested on them a moment, thinking how b oth were Elves, but different. Shum, dressed in worn leathers, was tall, broad, relaxed and thick wristed. Bayzog’s dark robes were elegant, his features stern, his movements purposeful, even for a part-Elf. They were the kind of people I liked to be around. Different. Like me.
    “Where we going ?” I said, following.
    Shum pointed.
    The Ettin. It was right where they left it. Sitting up. Coiled in ropes, chains and mystic banding that sparkled. One head snored. The other was silent. Searching. It locked eyes on me. I felt a chill. Most Giants were ornery and stupid. This one was pure evil.
    “ What are the Legionnaires doing?” I said.
    “ Building a fire,” Shum said. His brows perched. “A big one.”
    “For what ?” I said.
    “Burn it!” a farmer yelled. He brandished a hoe in his hands, and tears fell from is eyes. “It took my wife. It killed my friends! Burn it!”
    A crowd of villagers gather ed around. Several threw rocks and stones at the Ettin.
    It laughed.
    “Garrison,” I said. “Who is in charge here?
    “Commander Wuzlin . Why?”
    “ Make sure he realizes that Ettins don’t burn. And if we kill the Ettin, how are we supposed to find the women?”
    “But,” Ben said.
    “Just go! Make haste, Garrison, before they burn down everything.”
    Garrison scurried away. Ben frowned and watched his friend go.
    Sasha patted Ben’s back, and he smiled, just a little.
    I shook my head and spoke kindly to Ben. “These villagers are angry. Scared. Being unreasonable will follow. They want justice. They want blood. But I want answers.” I turned to the rest of my friends. “Come on. Any of you speak Ettin?”
    “Perhaps he speaks common,” B en said.
    “I can speak a little Giant,” Shum said, “and ogre. He might understand that.”
    Bayzog stepped between Ben and Sasha and took Sasha’s hand. “Even if the Ettin understands what we say, why would he acknowledge it? Ettins, like all Giants, are as stubborn as they are big.”
    I thought that u nfortunately, Bayzog was probably right.
    And this Ettin, he was massive. A thick slab of hair and skin slapped over solid muscle. One head had a nose ring, the other two hooped earrings.
    I couldn’t help but wonder who had made them such things. Did Ettins have blacksmiths?
    I hopped up on its ice-coated knee, walked over its leg, and poked Fang into one of its