There Be Dragons Read Online Free PDF Page A

animal.
    “Me, here, yes!”
    The beak was moving. The falcon definitely appeared to be …
speaking.
    “I’m losing my mind,” Marina murmured. “Stress … has to be stress. Surely—and certainly, not surprising—the very idea of marrying the Count Baristo could cause madness.”
    “Stress … overload … there’s every excuse in the world!” the falcon sighed.
    “Falcons don’t talk!” Marina said.
    “Have you ever actually addressed one and
expected
an answer from it?”
    “Well, no …”
    “Then how on earth would you know that we don’t talk? I would say that, apparently, sometimes we do!” the falcon said irritably. “Now, please, have you forgotten all about me? My injury? Have you something to use as a bandage? Come, come, girl! Catch your jaw before it hits the dirt. Get over here and help!”



Chapter 2
    W ith a great, heavy blow that extended every ounce of his strength, Michelo, heir apparent to the great Duke Fiorelli, brought his battle sword down upon the shoulders of his opponent. He had done so already, time and time again, and each time, the mail- and armor-clad being had risen again, like some monster, able to turn on him once more with renewed strength.
    He heard the great clash of steel against steel; he felt the reverberation sweep through his arm, and then the length of him.
    And then … thank God! The man … the
thing
stayed down. Michelo drew in a deep breath, anxious to approach his fallen enemy and pull the visor and helmet from the face. The warriors of old insisted they had fought wartrolls, mercenary creatures brought in by their enemies, beings that had scales rather than flesh. He’d never seen one, and he’d wondered at times if the wartroll hadn’t been invented by strong men, unwilling to admit they could not face an enemy with an even greater strength. And yet, in the time of his father’s days of battle, they had beat back such an army, won a decisive victory. And over the many years since, there had been comparative peace … with just a few raids now and then.
    But their enemies grew bolder, encroaching upon lands where the people lived in freedom from barbarous rules and overbearing tyrants. There is strength in alliance, his father had taught him, and so it had been true. But now …
    The legendary Nico d’Oro was gone. Carlo Baristo swore he would raise his army, and come to aid at the border when a real threat existed. Only Michelo’s own father believed the raids were coming far more often now, and with far greater intensity. And so, Michelo had now spent most of the past few years on the border, leading his men against the raiders, and wondering when the time would come when the enemyrose en masse, assaulting them in greater numbers. They would override his father’s lands first, and if the duchy fell, the counties of Lendo and Baristo would not be far behind.
    Michelo shook his head with aggravation. The alliance of the duchy and the two counties had now been formed for years and years, but one would think, sometimes, that Baristo was not much of an ally to have—sometimes it seemed as if he worked against the very peace they fought so hard along the borders to maintain.
    He moved toward his enemy. Just then, though, he heard the hoofbeats that signaled the coming of his own men, who, in riding against the enemy, had come to assist. They had been in hand-to-hand battles themselves, and only now were rallying again to regroup behind him.
    He turned to see them riding quickly, eager to come to his aid and defense should he have been caught off-guard by more opponents.
    He waved, then turned back, so anxious to lift that helmet and see if he had battled a man—or the rumored beast-enemy of his father’s day.
    The grass was empty. There was nothing there. No man, and certainly, no beast.
    He knelt down as his men rode hard behind him. Antonio Tosse from the north jumped from his horse, landing at his side.
    “He escaped?” he said.
    “He was down