By Lawrence Watt-Evans
After a long time of peace within the Lands of fellows, there got here Dragon climate: a wave of magnificent warmth, oppressive humidity, darkish indignant clouds . . . and dragons. Dragons without regret, no sympathy, little need for people; dragons who destroyed a whole village and everybody in it. every body, that's, other than the younger boy Arlian. Orphaned and by myself, Arlian used to be captured via looters and bought as a mining slave. He ultimately escaped, fueled by means of years of hatred and a private vow to convey justice to all who had wronged him. After killing those that enslaved him, Arlian sought out The Dragon Society, whose sworn goal was once to face opposed to the dragon risk. It was once there, between his friends, that Arlian stumbled on he's humanity's most sensible wish for defeating the dragons . . . permanently.Now, Arlian seeks his ultimate vengeance: demise to all of dragonkind. yet as he starts off to ruin the evil beasts, wild magic seeps into the Lands of fellows, sowing chaos and destruction in its wake. Will Arlian's all-consuming quest for justice eat humanity in addition? the reply may well lie inside of his historic foe's such a lot deadly weapon: Dragon Venom
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Additional info for Dragon Venom (Obsidian Chronicles, Bk. 3)
If the flesh failed to sink inward, if the bones did not protrude through stretching hide, then the dragon was not dead. If the rot set in, the dragon was irrefutably gone. Arlian and his twelve men had had no trouble in dispatching these four, despite their size and presumed ferocity—the dragons had been deeply asleep, as they always were in the winter, and none had awakened before they died. The last had been stirring slightly when four men had plunged the ten-foot black-tipped spear into its black heart, and had thrashed briefly as it died, but that was of no consequence.
Arlian realized that he had awakened because he had heard the flap opening, and had heard a footstep. That was not Black, come to carry out some late-night errand; Black was twice the size of this person. The intruder lowered the flap and looked around, and as she turned, revealing her outline in silhouette, Arlian was left in no doubt that this was a woman, and one not dressed suitably for the wintry weather. That was interesting. She could hardly have any legitimate business slipping into his pavilion in the middle of the night, but that did not mean her intent was hostile.
Thirty tents were arranged under the tall trees, the paths between them trodden almost free of snow. A score of horses were tethered in a clearing to one side, their breath fogging the air as they nosed at their hay, and to the other side a line of wagons held the expedition's supplies. The smell of wood smoke and the faint murmur of voices filled the air; Arlian's men were returning to warm campfires and good company, not just cold wagons and empty tents. Lord Rolinor was already almost at the door flap of his pavilion, where a young woman waited, shivering as she held up a welcoming lantern.