Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon

him as a puppet, and then cast him aside without so much as an explanation? Who was he, to make a fool out of a king’s advisor and treat him like a dog?
    Morghan had had enough. He would not submit to this man’s will any longer. He grabbed the knife he always kept at his side and pointed the tip of the blade at the dark stranger’s neck.
    “What the hell is going on here? I demand an explanation, and it had better be to my liking or, as God is my witness, I will slice your throat open and gut you like a pig.”
    Thunder rolled above them, as a flash of lightning lit up the scene once more.
    The dark stranger did not move for a few seconds, still concentrating on his work. However, when the advisor pressed the blade a little harder on the back of his neck, he finally stopped and slowly turned around to face the old man.
    Morghan stared into the dark hood, still unable to see his adversary’s face. He tried to ignore his fear and stay strong. This demon had fooled him for the last time.
    Suddenly, the dark stranger opened his eyes. The advisor could not help but take a step back. Even with the cold rain now falling heavily on the two men and blurring his vision, Morghan could clearly see the eyes of the stranger, burning like hot coals. They did not seem human at all, but rather appeared to be windows on the deepest pits of hell.
    “You’re the Devil,” whispered Morghan.
    “There is no need to resort to name-calling, old man,” replied the diabolical figure.
    Before he could turn around and run for his life, Morghan felt an intense heat envelop his entire body. Horrified, he watched as his skin turned bright red, large blisters erupting from it. Within seconds, Morghan fell to the ground, his body boiled on the spot by an evil spell.
    “Then again, maybe I am the prince of lies,” whispered the dark man.
    Without wasting another moment, he returned to his work, for he knew the time was quickly approaching when his plan would reach its culminating point.

    Malloy was still trying to loosen the knots around his wrists when the ground suddenly jumped under him, the hill shaking violently for a brief second.
    “What the hell was that?” asked Kaleb.
    “I have no idea,” answered Darroch. “But if you ask me, I would suggest we find a way to get out of here, and sooner rather than later. Something is happening and I don’t want to be around to find out what it is.”
    “Why do you say that?” inquired Kaleb.
    “Look at the men around us. The guards they assigned to watch over us have mostly left in the past half hour. Either they are fleeing some grave danger, or they are gathering somewhere, on the orders of their leader. Whatever the reason is, something significant is going on and my little pinky tells me that it probably doesn’t bode well for us.”
    Kaleb looked up at the black sky. All he saw was lightning cracking the darkness open, briefly illuminating their surroundings, before obscurity enveloped them again, along with a deafening thunder.
    “I don’t know about you,” said Freston, “but I think what we just felt were not the regular tremors of this place. This was something different, like some ancient evil waking up after a millennium of slumber. I fear that tonight this place will be the scene of terrible events that will be engraved in the memories of men for generations upon generations.”
    “Don’t be ridiculous,” Malloy cut in.
    “You know I am telling the truth! Look around us, for God’s sake! Tonight is one of those nights when legends are born. Something is about to happen, something bad, and we should find a way to get off this hill, and fast.”
    “And just how do you propose we do that?” asked Kaleb, yelling over thunder that felt like God was trying to shut them up.
    “I’m working on it!” Freston yelled back.
    For the next few minutes, all four of them remained silent, trying to think of a way to get out of their makeshift outdoor cell. If they successfully untied their hands and made a run for it, they would be spotted immediately by the guards, and would find themselves with a few arrows lodged between their shoulder blades. Even if by some miracle they made it to the edge of the hill, the path down would more than likely be a steep cliff. In the darkness, they would almost certainly break their necks trying to get to the bottom of the hill. Even Malloy had given up trying to free his hands and simply looked around, hoping for a miracle. He noticed a