The Dragon Egg Saga. Stephen Lindsay J.

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СКАЧАТЬ air. “I’ll take care of it.”

      Clay raises his hands. “Whatever, man.”

      Karl walks over to the spot where Dinmal is rolling back and forth on the pavement, being careful to keep a few feet of distance between himelf and the orc. Busted hip or not, the damn thing could still be dangerous.

      “Hey. Hey!”

      Dinmal looks up at Karl. Tears, like newly created rivers, are streaming from the creatures eyes. His yellow, uneven teeth are clenched together and visible through his snarling lips.

      “Fuuk ya, h-hooman dog!”

      “Human dog?” Karl chuckles. “That’s a new one. Doesn’t make much sense, but it’s nice to know you ugly fuckers have at least a smidgen of imagination in those thick noggins of yours. You know that word? Smidgen?”

      Karl brings his sword crashing down into the center of the Dinaml’s face, not bothering to give the orc a chance to respond. The blade connects with the wide, flat bridge of the creature’s nose and shatters it. The middle of its face sinks in from the force of the impact and a fountain of blood spews forth from its mouth.

      Karl wrenches the sword back and forth, trying to free it from Dinaml’s face. Bone crunches with each tilt back and forth of the blade. After a half-dozen tries, it comes free.

      “Whoa. That was frikkin’ nasty.” Clay looks at Karl, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his oversized gray cargo pants. “You’re a stone-cold killer, Karl.”

      Karl shoots Clay a wry half-smile. “Not too bad for an old guy like me, eh?”

      “Not too bad for an asshole who, for some reason, refuses to work as part of a group!”

      Karl rolls his eyes as he looks at Clay, not wanting to turn around. He knows who it is, and he knows why she’s pissed. “Look, Melissa—”

      A sudden burst of those familiar fireworks explode before Karl’s eyes.

       Pop! Pop! Pop!

       “Gah! What the hell!?” Karl drops his sword and swats at the painful bursts of fire looking like a man trying to ward off a particularly nasty bee. He turns, coughing and wiping tears from his eyes. “Just because you learned a new trick doesn’t mean you can use it all willy-fucking-nilly!”

      Standing before him, hands held up like a Las Vegas magician selling the audience on an elaborate illusion, is Melissa Odell. Her come-hither eyes, perfectly formed birthing hips, and full, round breasts combine with her 33 years in a way that could make her the very definition of the term MILF.

      “The next time you take off like that instead of sticking to the plan,” says Melissa, daggers shooting from her eyes, “I’ll let the goddamn Bludden pulverize your ass!”

      Clay steps in between Karl and Melissa, his arms spread out like a referee at a prize fight. “Okay, okay – let’s remember that we’re all on the same side here. Geez, you two are more obnoxious than my folks were right before their divorce!” Clay flips the hood of his sweatshirt back onto his head. “Can we please just finish this pointless exercise and see what’s left in that Wal-Mart? The last thing I need tonight is another lecture from Mayowen.”

      Melissa and Karl eye one another like a couple of gunfighters - each trying to anticipate the move of the other. It is Karl who breaks first. His set jaw relaxes into a playful, almost handsome grin. He takes a deep, theatrical bow, waving one arm out toward the Wal-Mart entrance in grandiose fashion.

      “After you, fair maiden. For the Mart of Wal awaits.”

      Melissa steps briskly past him, not pausing as she smacks him upside the head.

      “Ow!” Karl yelps. “I hardly think there’s any call for violence.” But he isn’t angry. Quite the contrary. It gives him tremendous pleasure to know that he can get under that controlling broad’s skin every now and again. She may be sexy, and she may be the only one of them with any aptitude for magic, but neither of those things changes the fact that she can, and often does, get a right nasty bug up her ass when she wants.

      Karl steals one last glance at the four dead Bludden, rests his ridiculously oversized sword on his shoulder (not noticing how the blade has become sticky with the coagulated blood of his fallen foes) and follows after his companions. Taking a couple of Bludden in an open Wal-Mart parking lot was one thing. But none of them should face whatever could be hiding inside said Wal-Mart alone. Even he knows that.

      Old Man Winter Watches From On High

      On the outskirts of the Wal-Mart parking lot, sitting atop a tall, out of commission streetlight, is the wizard Mayowen. His long, white beard stretch out to the side as the bitter night winds swirl around him. His white robes flutter and fall, flutter and fall. Only his white, pointy, wide-brimmed hat seems to be unaffected by the winds. It sits atop his head, steady as a lighthouse in a hurricane. How a man of his advanced years could perch in such a place is nothing short of astounding. Hell, an 18 year old gymnast in peak physical condition would find it nearly impossible to keep his balance in such a place. And yet there he is, Old Man Winter himself (as Karl thought of him). Seeing him up there could lead one to believe that he was responsible for the night’s cold winds. But that is not the case. At least, it’s not this time. True, he is capable of such a thing. Controlling the weather is mere child’s play to a being as powerful as Mayowen. But not this night. This night he simply watches, waits, and lets the weather do what it must.

      The scene below plays out much as he expects it to. Karl, with his newfound vitality after shedding his bloated, lazy lifestyle, charges in headlong and stubborn. He fights well at first, admirably, even. But to spearhead an attack is one thing – to rush in unaccompanied is quite another. Were it not for the quick actions of Melissa, her fingers dancing through the air, her lips whispering the latest incantation Mayowen has taught her, Karl would be dead right now. And then there is Clayton, the boy of shadows. His deft movements and quick decisions will prove to be invaluable in the battles Mayowen foresees upon the vast horizon of time.

      Each is progressing well on their own. But to survive the dangers Mayowen knows to lie ahead, they will have to find a way to come together. No amount of magic, from this world or any other, is capable of sealing the bond of fellowship. That has to grow of its own accord, or not grow at all.

      A large crow lands upon the streetlight next to Mayowen. It cocks an eye toward the old wizard, its head twitching nervously. It caws twice, trying to shoo this large, odd creature from its territory. Mayowen stares back, pushing his gaze deep into the birds black eyes.

      “And where would you have me observe from, Master Blackbird? Down there? I should think not.”

      The crow caws again, then ruffles its feathers, puffing itself out in a show of dominance.

      Mayowen’s bushy, white eyebrows raise in a look of befuddlement. “Well I never… Such insolence in this world, even from the fowls.” With the slightest twitch of his fingers, a fresh gust of wind bursts forth from the empty space beneath the crow, lifting it off of its perch and into the air. It tumbles once, then spreads its wings and takes flight, cawing with indignation.

      Mayowen chuckles to himself and turns his attention back to his trio of apprentices. They cross the remainder of the parking lot, stepping over the multitude of cracks and brakes in the asphalt where weeds and grass have СКАЧАТЬ