Dragon Breeder 3 by Dante King (motivational books for students txt) 📗

“And who better than an armorer, right?” I said innocently.

“Quite so,” the blue-skinned djinn said.

“Well, you’re not going to hear me complaining,” I said.

I stared intently at Renji, and the two of us exchanged smiles that spoke volumes without a word passing between us. I had not slept with the beautiful silver-haired djinn as of yet, but even a eunuch could see the idea appealed to her.

“Saya asked me to relay a message to you, Mike,” Tamsin said.

“Relay away, then,” I said courteously.

“She said that she’d better become a Rank Two before the end of this mission, because it was taking everything she had not to disobey a direct order from the General and come with you, Mike.”

I smiled to herself. Saya was a keeper all right, but she was also a born dragonmancer and she was not about to risk that for the sake of babysitting me. I respected that a lot.

“Thanks for sending the message,” I said to Tamsin, “and Saya did well sticking to her orders.” I squeezed Renji and Tamsin’s arms. “I’m glad that our company has you two bolstering it.”

Renji looked openly at Ash and Jaz. “You think that this little group really needs more bolstering with those guys on board?

I snorted. “Yeah. Good point,” I said. “I’m certainly glad they’re on our team.”

“Ahhh, come on now!” came the unmistakable twanging voice of Diggens Azee from where he was sitting slouched on a rock, enjoying one of his roll-ups. “The more the bloody merrier, if you ask me. You can never have too many blades. Not where the Subterranean Realms are concerned.”

“Diggens,” I said, “this is Dragonmancer Tamsin and Dragonmancer Renji.”

Diggens stood up and bowed, his massive rucksack and collection of picks and tools he had fastened about his person clanking loudly. “Stone the crows, but it’s a pleasure to meet the pair of ya,” he said affably.

Renji gave me a quizzical look. “This fellow, is he related to Old Sleazy or Big Greasy by any chance?”

“Nah,” Diggens said, “but you’d be fucking astonished with how many people reckon that to be true.”

“Are you going to be able to keep up with all that gear, gnoll?” Tamsin shot at Diggens.

It was a fair question. The gnoll looked like he was going to a fancy dress party as a pack mule.

Diggens removed his hat, pulled the almost used up stub of candle from the front brim, and replaced it with a fresh taper, which he melted on with the end of his smoke.

“Don’t you worry about me, darl,” he said. “Diggens Azee don’t make nobody wait for him. Not unless it’s ten-thirty in the morning or three in the afternoon.”

Tamsin frowned. “What happens then?” she asked.

Before Diggens could answer though, a clarion trumpet sounded from up ahead.

“That’s the signal,” Jazmyn said. “The vanguard is far enough ahead of us so that they’ll be able to clear or deal with any obstructions of the geographic or enemy kind.”

Ashrin nodded. “Enough chat. Grab your gear. It’s time to embark.”

* * *

There were twenty-one in our party, what with the unexpected, but very much appreciated, additions of Renji, Tamsin, and their coteries.

There was a rough order to the formation of our company; Jazmyn stalked along at the front with her coterie around her, while Ashrin and her three squad members acted as the rearguard. In between these two hardy bookends were Renji and Tamsin, each surrounded by their coteries—Renji in front of me and Tamsin behind. Diggens acted as a sort of roving scout. I was, to my annoyance, kept in the middle of the press of warriors. I understood the need for me to be in the most protected position, but that comprehension did not make the situation any more palatable.

What rankled with me the most, however, was the idea that these twenty other people—well, maybe not Diggens—were quite happy to put their lives on the line to protect mine. For someone who had spent most of their life looking after and relying on themselves, it was a disagreeable feeling.

We marched through the mines all day without coming in contact with anything more out of the ordinary or eye-opening than the actual Subterranean Realms themselves.

There was an air of mystery that permeated the very rock that surrounded us. Although this part of Galipolas Mountain had been cleared by the sappers, miners, and excavators, and there were soldiers stationed at various choke points and military stations along the way, there was still something inexpressibly ancient and strange about the place.

We halted, after a long, full day of trekking, in a surprisingly pretty and commodious cavern. We dragonmancers could have kept going through the night and into the next day, but the squads couldn’t. The fifteen coterie members had already drunk deeply from a potion that had helped them keep a dragonmancer’s pace through the day without stopping once. The potion, however, had only been so that the company could get off to a good start. They needed to rest and sleep so that they could be fresh for the next day’s effort.

The only person in the company who had stopped throughout the day’s march was Diggens Azee. And not for a lack of fitness or because the gnoll couldn’t keep up.

The first time I’d noticed him stopping was when I heard the gnoll give a cry, midway through the morning’s march.

“Right, that’s it, that’s half-ten!” he said, his nasally voice reverberating like a buzzsaw through the stretch of tunnel.

The column of twenty other travelers stopped in mid-step and started at the sudden noise. I saw more than a couple of hands jerk toward sword hilts and hidden daggers, and then relax.

“How the hell can you know whether or not it’s half past ten?” I said. “We’re under the bloody