Snippet #1979065

Quickly and silently, Shurik followed Rose through the woods. At one point he had traded his sword and dagger for his shortbow, keeping one arrow nocked at all times as for the sake of stealth. Shurik was no crack shot in comparison to the Valigart, but he could hold his own at range. The two traveled through the woods, low to the riverbank, for what seemed like ages before they eventually came to the breach.

Shurik had never seen a dragon before. To be perfectly honest, the Dailak-shir didn't even believe in dragons, with the exception of myths and faerie stories. They were long gone from the desert sands, chased to the far corners of the world by elves, barbarians and a wide range of other things both natural and otherwise, and the desert-dwelling scholarly types honestly believed that every last one of them were gone. So to see a dragon, even a dead one, was something new for the assassin.

His reaction was exactly what would be expected: no reaction. An intent observer would note that his right eyebrow raised a matter of microns, but other than that the assassin was unflappable. He looked at the dragon, and the Legion marching down its back, with the casual detachment one would note a crushed beetle. He traced his eyes down the ranks of the Legion all the way to the emaciated, corpse-looking commander type, then looked to Rosaline.

"We will have to use the dragon," Shurik murmured. "It is inadvisable, yes, but it is also the only forthcoming solution. We will have to distract them." He cocked his head to one side, looking at Rose with a note of inquisitiveness. "That is your specialty, I trust?"