Free Flight of the Dragon (The Chronicles of Dragon, Series 2, Book 5 of 10) (Tail of the Dragon) by Craig Halloran

we’re going to have to head back to the woods and rustle up some possum.”
    Shoulders slumped, Brenwar started his trek back into the woods. “Eating from a table is soft, anyway.”
    A scuffle of dirt caught Nath’s ear. He grabbed Brenwar by the elbow and pulled him back into the shadows.
    Someone on light feet was making his way down the alley. A man emerged from the alley and into the open plain. His eyes were forward, scanning the outline of the forest. He wore a cloak over his shoulders and held a broadsword at the ready. He moved well, with the technical craft of a seasoned soldier. He turned from side to side. Something dangled from his neck. It was metal, a whistle or something.
    That must be the magistrate.
    Staying low, ready to spring, the magistrate started toward the forest on soft feet.
    Out of nowhere, Brenwar’s stomach rumbled like rolling thunder.
    The magistrate whipped around. His eyes locked on Nath and Brenwar. He grabbed the whistle and put it to his mouth.

CHAPTER 16
     
     
    Rerry, get up!
    But Scar said, “Stay put, fledgling.”
    Rerry rested back on his elbows. “I underestimated you.”
    “Oh, that’s an understatement.” Scar tossed the elven rope to Rerry. “Now we get to see how well you fare on an ever-so-long march back to Elome. No food. No water. Just one long stiff march with a needle at your back.”
    Rerry’s chin fell to his chest. After all that hard work, he was right back where he’d started. A captive. A failure. He wanted to scream. He picked up the rope and said, “So what do you want me to do, bind myself?”
    “No, save it for when your brother returns at the hands of my men. They’ll have him wrapped up in no time, I’m certain.” Scar admired his sword. “It really is a fine piece of weaponry, and yes, it is enchanted. All of the captains of the guard receive blessed weapons when they survive the test and make the rank. I even helped to forge it myself. Me, the smith, and a pair of lovely elven enchantresses.” His fingers caressed the blade’s edge. “I don’t think I could live with myself if I ever lost it. And the thought of your kind even touching it makes me want to wash it.” His face soured.
    “What is your problem with me? I may not be a full-bred elf, but you act like I’m an orc!”
    Without looking at Rerry, Scar cut the blade through the air a few times. “You might be.”
    Rerry’s lips tightened. He glared at Scar. The elves were possibly the most sophisticated race in Nalzambor, but their snobbery was often overbearing. He and Samaz hadn’t done anything wrong, and his parents hadn’t either, aside from love each other. His eyes found the sword Samaz had been carrying. His brother had dropped it before he went to pursue the other elves.
    Every little bit makes him faster, and he doesn’t know how to use a sword anyway.
    Scar caught him looking at the sword and said with a confident air, “Go ahead. You say you’re a swordsman, pick it up.”
    “Why, so you can try to kill me?”
    “Oh, there won’t be any ‘try’ in it. If I want to kill you, I will. But that’s not my plan. I was just planning to teach you a few lessons.” Scar flexed the rapier behind his shoulders. The steel bent a little between his hands. “This blade won’t break. It’s like a living thing in my hands.”
    Rerry crawled over to the sword on the ground but didn’t pick it up. He considered himself a fine swordsman, but the truth was he was self-instructed for the most part, though he had spent some time with the legionnaires. “You sound like someone who relies on his sword more than he does his own skill.”
    “Oh, it took ample skill and the sword to kill a giant with one blow. Just imagine what I could do to you.”
    Rerry picked the elven longsword up and stood.
    Scar’s green eye brightened. The patch over his left eye darkened. “You really do have the fire of a fool in you, don’t you.”
    Eyeing the man’s patch, Rerry said,