Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon

arrowhead. On top of its skull stood four black horns, along with a series of smaller ones that descended along the creature’s spine, all the way to the tip of its tail.
    When it finally came into full view, the dragon seemed to look at Vortigern for a second. Turning its head slightly to the right, it opened its mouth and spewed liquid fire, burning a dozen men on the spot, before they had any chance to react. The beast spat another line of fire before flying up and coming around for another pass.
    The warriors immediately dropped their weapons and ran for the tunnel they had used to come in, screaming in terror and trampling over the unlucky ones who lost their footing in their attempt to get out of this death trap. The dragon flew over the crowd once more, opening its mouth and charring more soldiers with gouts of flame.
    Vortigern finally came out of his stupor. Everywhere he looked were smoking ashes, melted rocks and grown men weeping in fear, screaming at the top of their lungs to cover the panic in their hearts. The cave was now a place of sheer chaos, every soldier running for the tunnel, as the dragon burned dozens of men who were trailing the main group.
    What had he done? This was supposed to be the pinnacle of his reign, his mark on history, when he would seize Britain and finally make it his own. This was supposed to be a night of legend, a night that bards everywhere would turn into marvelous songs praising their king, who had saved them all from the Saxon hordes.
    Instead, this had turned out to be another instance in a long list of miserable events, a series of curses that God saw fit to bestow on him for some unknown reason. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he stood by the underground lake, watching his men disappear back up the tunnel. The white dragon flew one last time over his head and landed on top of the last group of men, crushing their frail bodies under its powerful legs. The beast looked at the opening, studying it for a second, then took a few steps back. With unbelievable power, it launched itself against the rock, burrowing into the tunnel. Behind the king, the water started to move again, ripples hitting the back of his boot heels, slowly at first, but quickly gaining speed, rapidly turning into small waves. When the water covered his feet, the king finally noticed what was happening and slowly turned around.
    He found himself face to face with another dragon, this one covered with bright red scales. The beast stood ten feet away from the king, staring directly at his face. Vortigern could smell its foul breath, a mix of sulfur and dry ashes. “I … I … I—” stammered Vortigern, “I am Vortigern … king … king of the Brit … Britons. I am the leader of your people.”
    The beast looked puzzled by this man before it, who pretended to be a king. It knew very well that this should not have been the case. Slowly, the dragon lifted its head higher. Vortigern fell to his knees to beg for mercy. In one swift move, the dragon opened its mouth and brought it down on the false king.
    Once it was done with its quick meal, the red dragon looked at the enlarged tunnel and slowly made its way up the path, pursuing its nemesis.

    “I can’t see it anymore!”
    Angeline, Ambrosius and Samuel all turned their heads to look at the young child at the end of the table.
    “You can’t see what?” asked Ambrosius.
    “What comes next. The ending that the fairy talked about. My vision. I can’t see it anymore.”
    “It could only mean one thing,” said Angeline. “The Yfel’s recruit has made his move. He has changed the story.”
    “If that is the case,” said Samuel, “why is Myrddin unable to see the new events? If our enemy has made a move to change history, shouldn’t he be able to still see something, even though it could be different?”
    “Maybe he can’t see anything because nothing is decided yet,” said Angeline. “We might be too close to the events, with too many variables to consider. Our choice of actions will determine which vision will come true now. As of right now, the rest of this story is officially up to us.”
    Samuel looked at Myrddin. For the first time since he had met the young boy who would become Merlin, he was genuinely scared. All along, this boy had known what was going to happen. It was probably the reason he had agreed to join them here and meet with Vortigern, because he knew he would not be sacrificed—he had seen it. It was also why, until a