The Dragon Hunters by Christian Warren Freed

often wondered how easy it would be to abandon the kingdom of Thrae and his promise to the king. Forget the troubles and hardships. Certainly better men who actually cared were willing and available to fill his place. Let them save the world. Grelic wondered, but not for long.
    “Damnation,” he cursed and headed back towards Kelis Dur.
    Loyalty and honor were his strongest principles. He’d been raised to believe a man was nothing without his word. Too often that mantra became a bane. A curse for him to battle through while lesser men turned and fled from their responsibilities. Grelic wandered aimlessly for a time, uncertain in which direction to go. He knew she was here, or at least she had been the last he heard. If he had any chance of success he was going to need her help. Finding her was going to be the problem.
    Grelic wound up on the main avenue in the center of the town. Kelis Dur wasn’t overly spectacular for a capital city. The Sibit River ran in a long loop through the old city. Most of the palaces and gardens had been rebuilt once the rulers decided to clear out that part of town. The buildings were all the same lonely grey or rustic brown. Occasionally he spied a green or blue to break the monotony. Grelic suspected the drabness was due to the true mountain and stone traditions of the founders. Early settlers of Thrae were as hard as the environment they chose to live in.
    Thrae was a land of constant storms and bad weather. There was so much rock in the soil it was almost untamable. Farmers had the worst of it. The land had broken too many men. Not even their iron toughness was enough to keep many alive during the hard times. Grelic knew he’d make a miserable farmer. He was too headstrong. Too set in his ways. Farmers required patience and his barely lasted the duration of a battle.
    Sickly clouds began rolling in, promising a nasty storm. Grelic had nowhere to go and no real idea where to begin looking. Out of the thousands of faces in Kelis Dur he could think of only one capable of helping. Whistling an old childhood tune, the giant shoved his hands in his pockets and ambled off in search of Phaes.
     
     
     
    “Are you out of your mind? Rentor’s entire cabinet wants you dead and you’re going to help them?” Phaes shouted with disbelief. “This is madness!”
    Grelic smiled in response. “What choice do I have?”
    “Do what you first wanted. Head south and find a new place to get into trouble,” Phaes told him. A look of utter disgust crossed his face.
    “They’ll just hunt me down and never stop until too many are dead. How hard would it be for one of those weasels to hire another assassin team? I’m not going through that again.” He paused to pass the violent memory. “This is my chance to finally be free.”
    “How long have we known each other, Grelic? Twenty years? Thirty? The men opposed to Rentor won’t stop until you and he are both gone. You do realize you’re not just a random target?”
    The giant held up his hands. “I don’t blend well in a crowd either, Phaes.”
    The old sergeant grumbled something incoherent and stormed off to the other room. Grelic stood patiently in front of the fire, drying off from the heavy rain he’d been caught in. Despite a powerful thirst, he wisely passed up the proffered flagon of wine Phaes offered. He already dreaded his initial confrontation with her and getting drunk now would only make it worse. Phaes eventually returned with a pot of cold stew and a loaf of fresh, dark bread. He placed the pot on the iron hook and swung it into the fireplace. Being cold and wet was bad enough. Cold food was downright insufferable.
    “Damned miserable day,” he said gruffly. “Tell me again why we don’t already live down south?”
    “Who’d take us? I’m not changing my mind, Phaes. I’m tired of constantly being on the defensive. Now is the time to put pressure on the ones responsible for putting me in chains. This is the best chance