Returner's Wealth (Wyrmeweald, Book 1)

Returner's Wealth (Wyrmeweald, Book 1)

Paul Stewart, Chris Riddell

Language: English

Pages: 180

ISBN: 0552560847

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Seventeen-year-old Micah, enters the wyrmeweald full of hope to return home having made his fortune. But this is a land where wyrmes, fabulous dragon-like beasts, roam wild and reign supreme. In Wyrmeweald man is both hunter and hunted - and Micah may never return alive, let alone a hero... He soon finds a chance to prove his worth when he meets with Eli, a veteran tracker, and together they defend a rare whitewyrme egg and its precious hatchling. But the fledgling wyrme has its own guardian in the shape of the beautiful, brave and dangerous Thrace. Thrace and Micah should never mix - but the magnetism between them is strong. Together they join forces on a mission to rescue the hatchling - and seek vengenace for lost loved-ones.

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highstacks. Twenty-Seven A keening cry echoed across the void. The kingirl turned her head. She was standing at the edge of the tall speckled stack, one hand on her tilted hip, the other gripping the savage-looking kinlance at her side. The pearl-white suit of soulskin hugged her slim body and was beaded with drizzle and opalescent. As she craned her neck back, the wind blew her long straight hair across her face. Golden-grey, the colour of weathered pine, her hair shimmered in the

rest up for the night.’ It was Solomon. He’d been looking out for likely places of shelter for the previous hour, and now made towards a mess of tumbled slabs that looked like it might serve the purpose well. Esau set down his backpack, by far the biggest of the lot. Strapped to it was a variety of equipment: nets, coils of rope, serrated spear tips, heavy canteens and padded bedrolls. He selected a hatchet and two of the canteens, and went off in search of wood and water. Leah slipped

her to sit upon. He’d chosen their rest-up spot well. Just about as kithwise well as a big dumb lug like Esau could manage, Bethesda thought affectionately. They were settled in the bowl of a shallow depression in the rock. It offered some shelter from the winter-laced wind, while still affording an unbroken view across the broad expanse of flat rock all around them. There were three large boulders in a loose cluster on the rim of the dip. Two were tall and leaned together

runty-looking wyrme, knee-high and pot-bellied, scuttled out into plain view. Micah held his breath. Tarnished scales, cracked and misshapen, gilded the wyrme’s skin, which hung in folds on its bony frame like an outsized oilskin. It was limbwithered and shrivelwinged. Thin twists of pus-coloured smoke dribbled from the scabbed nostrils of its bony carapaced skull. On the end of its thin twisted forepaws and spindly hindlegs, vicious curved talons gleamed like rapiers, and looked as

whitewyrme, his gaze fell at once upon Thrace’s slender figure, which was braced against the creature’s clavicle and vertebral spur, her thighs gripping tight and the long black lance held at her side. She had raised her hood over her head, concealing her face, and apart from the lance, she and Aseel seemed to be one and the same. Neither of them looked back. Micah felt a hand pat him on the back, then rest upon his shoulder and squeeze lightly, and he turned to see Eli looking at him. ‘Let

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