Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon

anything at all! Come, follow me. I have a friend in the officers’ quarters. Maybe he can tell us where we are and why the ground has been shaking.”
    Malloy darted in the direction of the hill, trying to make his way through the chaos. Everywhere they looked, tents lay flat on the ground, men were scurrying and horses were running wild, fleeing toward the forest, where wolves did not miss the opportunity of an easy meal. The night was filled with screams of agony and the stench of burning linen, smoking wood and scorched flesh. Dozens of fire had broken out, the flames spreading uncontrollably. Thick, dark smoke filled the air, clouding their vision and burning their lungs.
    The intensity of the tremors had not subsided, and the terrifying roars were growing louder and more aggressive, like a horde of demons launching an attack under cover of darkness.
    The closer the two young men got to the hill, the more wounded warriors there were. Finally, they made it to where the officers’ tents had stood. As they came closer, Malloy suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Samuel, seeing the horror in Malloy’s face, followed his gaze.
    Malloy’s friend Clive’s tent was an inferno, the flames rising high in the air, as a column of black smoke twisted into the sky.

    Morghan was still trying to make his way toward the king’s tent, holding out his arms to keep his balance, when something to his left caught his gaze. A silhouette was standing on a small mound of boulders, looking at the horizon.
    The dark stranger.
    Immediately, Morghan went to confront the man, even if the fear he suddenly felt in his guts was trying to convince him to do otherwise.
    “You!” he yelled over the roars of fury and the growls of the earth. “Where have you brought us? What is this madness? I demand an answer!”
    The dark man did not move. Not only did he not make any gesture to acknowledge the presence of Morghan; it was almost as though he did not even feel the ground shaking under his feet.
    “Answer me!” shouted Morghan.
    The dark man raised his right hand and the old advisor instantly stopped moving, his muscles now unresponsive to his commands. He was paralyzed from the neck down.
    “Who are you?” Morghan asked, trying to control his voice. “What are you doing to me?”
    “I suggest you stop talking now, advisor,” said the stranger. “You know very well why I have brought you and your army here. We both know this is the perfect place to make your stand against the Saxons. I’m sure even your stubborn king has realized this hill is impossible to overtake if a fortress sits at the top of it.”
    “That may be so,” replied the advisor, “but in case you have not noticed, God seems to be making it very clear he does not want us here.”
    “God has nothing to do with this little setback. I thought you were a man of reason, not a superstitious weakling. This is where you are supposed to confront your enemy. This is where your future will be written, and your name remembered for generations upon generations.”
    The dark man moved toward Morghan. “Now,” continued the dark stranger, “this is what I want you to do. Go to your king and tell him of a boy. Listen to my words carefully and repeat them to Vortigern, for this boy will bring your people the deliverance they seek and the victory they desire.”
    Morghan listened to the rest of the instructions, still paralyzed by the stranger’s power, but also aware of the tremors that shook the hill.

    “We have to do something!” cried Malloy.
    He and Samuel ran to the flaming tent.
    “Go get us a couple of spears!” ordered Malloy.
    Samuel nodded and hastily started searching the surroundings for weapons. Fortunately, there was a rack of spears nearby, still standing by some miracle. He quickly took two spears and returned to Malloy.
    “Here,” said Samuel, holding out a spear.
    They moved up to the burning tent and used the spear shafts to move the flaming fabric covering the entrance, trying to peek inside. They would have to be quick—the wooden shafts of the spears were already starting to fume. “I see someone!” shouted Samuel.
    Through the smoke and flames, Samuel saw a large silhouette stumbling around, trying to find a way out. The man was covering his mouth to protect himself from the smoke and appeared to be blinded by the flames, unable to orient himself.
    “It’s Clive!” shouted Malloy. “We have to get him out of there!”
    “If we go