Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon
just before an intense stream of fire rushed out of the dragon’s mouth, burning everything in its path, melting the rocks and turning sand to glass.
When the fire stopped, nothing was left of the dark man.
Uther looked at the dragon standing a mere fifty feet from him, unsure of what to do. He held out his sword to defend himself, then lowered it, feeling the creature was not here to fight him. Myrddin had said this dragon was the symbol of the Briton people, a spiritual figure of their great country. In its eyes, he saw infinite wisdom and unyielding courage, as well as mutual respect and absolute trust. Myrddin had spoken the truth: this creature meant no harm to the Briton.
The dragon lowered its head as a sign of respect and obedience, before taking off into the night’s sky.
Uther knelt next to the shivering body of his savior, Malloy. He lowered his head to the warrior’s face, listening for a sign of life. He was relieved to feel cold air on his cheek, a sign that the young man was still breathing.
“Hold on my friend, just hold on,” he muttered, gripping Malloy’s hand.
A few soldiers slowly approached, curious to see who this man was who could command the respect of dragons. As they moved closer, a few of them recognized him.
“Uther!” said one.
“Uther Pendragon!” said another.
“The brothers have returned to save us!” exclaimed a third, falling to his knees in front of his lord, quickly imitated by the others.
“Don’t just stand there!” barked Uther. “Help me! Take this man and make sure he does not die.”
Two soldiers quickly came to the aid of their lord, kneeling next to Malloy to pick him up. Uther immediately stood up and left the side of his friend, searching for the body of another of his companions. Within seconds, panic filled his heart and he feared for the worst. He could not find the body of Samuel, the young boy who had saved them all.
He looked around, the rain clouding his vision and the wind blurring the scenery. Finally, he saw the inert body of the young man a few yards away. He quickly ran to it and threw himself on the ground once more.
Samuel’s body was still smoking from the lightning that had entered it. Uther could not tell if he was dead or simply unconscious, even when he bent down to look for signs of life in the young boy’s corpse.
“Dear God, no. Please, no,” he prayed.
“My lord,” said a man who had followed him. “What should we do?”
“Help me, grab his feet. We need to bring both of them to my brother.”
Both men lifted the body of Samuel and rapidly brought him away, followed by the other men carrying the body of Malloy.
Neither Uther nor the men helping him could see the little fairy who stood above them, watching over the limp body of the Lorekeeper.
None of them could see the tears running down Angeline’s cheeks.
CHAPTER 17
Uther Pendragon was shouting orders to the men around him, soldiers who were now following him as their leader. They had witnessed this son of Constantine II turn a dragon to his will and prevail over a demonic sorcerer who had sought to destroy them all. Following these events, their hearts had been filled with pride and courage; they had regained hope and were once again the proud warriors of the Briton army. With the rightful heir to the throne leading them, these men now believed they could turn the tide of the war and defeat their enemies.
The rain had dwindled to a faint mist, and the wind had been reduced to a gentle night breeze, allowing the soldiers to quickly put together a tent large enough to accommodate a couple of beds and a few chairs. A few moments later, the motionless bodies of two fallen comrades were laid in the beds.
The first body was that of a young man named Malloy Cadwallader, a brave soldier who had literally thrown himself in the line of fire. He had willingly put his life in jeopardy in order to save Uther’s, a gesture that had deeply touched the latter. Now, instead of lying in the bed himself, Uther watched on, as the body of his savior was covered with cold sweat, shivering and trembling under the spell of a dark energy that coursed through his veins. The poison not only attacked the flesh of its victim, but also his mind, making the young man speak unintelligible words and say things only a mad man could possibly conjure.
In the other bed, the lifeless body of a teenager remained motionless. Samuel did not shiver or tremble. His body was like a
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