Of Shadows and Dragons Read Online Free PDF

the sack of gold in their midst. They had begun counting it out, sharing the coins. Their eyes shone wetly. Their mouths were open and they shouted hoarsely to one another.
    But they finally paid attention to the oddly behaving horse when it shouldered another horse. The rider of the second beast, who had been leaning far with his hand grasping for his next coin, was jostled and fell to the ground. He sprawled upon the snowy road, and began to slide downhill. At first, his companions laughed, but their laughter ceased when the man slid to the edge of the road and over. The rocky cliff stood a hundred feet above the next twist of road below. With a surprised whoop that turned into a screech, the man flew into the icy air and vanished. He howled all the way down for a full second, then another, before his cries were abruptly cut off.
    The first horse, the one that had come up lame, collapsed completely upon the ground now. Foaming from the mouth, its roan-furred sides were lathered from exertion despite the cold. The horse went into convulsions. It lay on its side, striking out with its hooves.
    The men backed away and circled it warily in confusion. The man with the slashed mouth stepped forward with his spear and thrust it into the throat of the horse. It took a long time to die, however, despite the mortal wound. Blood ran and ran and glistened upon the fresh snows.
    Warily, the mercenaries turned toward Therian and Gruum. “What evil have you released, sorcerer?”
    “Only that which lives within each of us,” said Therian.
    The men surged forward. Their shoulders were hunched, their weapons were in their hands. “You did something. You’ve bewitched us. Hergard was born in these mountains. He would never have fallen. What did you do, witch?”
    Therian walked his horse toward the men, looking at them intently. “In truth,” he said, “I’m not quite sure. But I’m curious to find out.”
    The men looked at one another, then snarled. They came on then, in a surging knot. Only a few dozen paces away, they lifted their spears to cast them. The first was hurled, a battle-cry splitting the lips of the scarred man.
    The cast went strangely low. Fareg, who led the pack, recoiled in shock and dropped from his saddle. The spear sprouted from his back while the gleaming point protruded from his chest. The other men slowed their charge and wheeled to accuse the scarred man.
    “What did you do, man?”
    “You have slain the best of us!”
    A strange look came over the group. Gruum thought to see a… a blackness to their eyes. As if all the color in the irises had drained away and left the whites, which in their turn had been dyed slate-gray, like boiled eggs in an offering basket left upon an altar for Anduin. The eyes grew darker as they circled the scarred man who’d cast the fatal spear. When their eyes had changed to purest jet, they fell upon the man with the slashed mouth, and they tore him apart. He was not the sort to die easily, however, and gave back with his drawn blade as much as he received. Bloody and cut a dozen times, he kept fighting long after he should not have been able. When the fight was over, there were only four men left of the nine who had pursued Therian and Gruum to this spot.
    “We’d best leave this place now,” Therian said.
    Gruum knew his master was right. But he could not help himself. “Milord—what about the gold?” he objected.
    Therian shrugged. “You may go down and retrieve it, if you wish.”
    Gruum looked back down the road. Events had grown stranger still. Two of the last men slashed at one another’s legs as if they beat rugs. Blood flowed, but neither defended himself. A third man repeatedly thrust his spear into the bodies of horses and men that lay dark upon the white carpet of snow. Already, the dead were being covered with flakes. The last man that was capable of walking shambled about, reaching in front of himself with two sets of groping fingers. Gruum realized