Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon

knowing full well it was under the tent, but buying every second he could.
    “Come on Sam! Stop wasting time,” urged Malloy. “Just take that pelt right there, under the tent. Grab the leather canteen behind you as well. We’ll fill it up with water on the way.”
    “Fine, fine, I’m coming! No need to be all pushy.”
    About fifteen minutes later, they met up with the group that would be sent to fetch the fatherless boy. Six men had been selected, one of them an officer. He was not much older than Malloy, but his gaze commanded respect. He was wearing an iron-plated breastplate, which also covered his thighs, with a decorated sword tied to his waist. On his head rested a galea , decorated with a brush of dark horsehair, a relic of the Romans who had occupied the island not so long ago.
    Two of the remaining men were much older than Malloy and the officer, probably in their early forties. They were much taller and bigger than the others. Both were wearing heavy-looking iron armor, though the helmets were strapped to their saddles. They carried heavy wooden shields, with long swords strapped on their backs and small axes hanging from their leather belts. One of them had a large scar that ran along his neck, while the other looked as if he had never shaved in his life. Clearly, these men were looking for battle and ready for it.
    The last member of the group was younger than the previous two, but still older than Malloy. Unlike the other men, he wore a simple leather jacket with a hood covering his head. He was also carrying a bow, along with a couple of knives attached to his wrists. Obviously, this man relied more on his accuracy with arrows than close combat.
    “Greetings, friends,” announced the officer to Malloy and Samuel as they approached. “I take it you two are the last members of our expedition.”
    “Indeed we are, Captain. This is Samuel, and I’m Malloy.”
    “Welcome. My name is Kaleb Hingolen. The two ugly beasts behind me are Atwood and Darroch, two brothers who fight their foes like wild animals, but always manage to survive somehow. The last member of our group is Freston over there. Should we find ourselves in a fight, I suggest you stay clear of his line of fire.”
    “Nice to meet you all,” said Samuel to the group, hoping to make a favorable first impression.
    An old man approached them on a majestic white horse. Two bodyguards rode behind him.
    “Who is that?” Samuel asked Malloy.
    “Morghan, the councilman who set up this mission.”
    Samuel remembered the warning that Angeline had given him not too long ago. She had advised him to avoid any confrontation with this Morghan, who was now approaching them.
    Did he know who Samuel was and why he was here? Did he know where he came from?
    It was impossible to know what the intentions of the advisor were, or what part he played in the legend. Not yet anyway. Unfortunately, it seemed a first meeting between Samuel and this man was unavoidable. All of a sudden, the men with Samuel rose to their feet and formed a line, ready to greet the advisor when he reached their small group.
    “Lord Morghan!” said the officer.
    “Kaleb,” replied the advisor. “I see that you have gathered your men and are ready to go.”
    “Yes sir, they are. We were just waiting on your final say to leave for Mancunium.”
    Morghan dismounted and walked toward the men who were before him.
    “These warriors were all personally selected by you?” he asked the commanding officer.
    “Yes, my lord. Except for these two at the end. They were strongly recommended by Clive. He said they saved his life during the earthquake. He believes they have proven their valor and courage by doing so.”
    The old advisor stopped in front of Malloy and Samuel.
    “I see.”
    The Lorekeeper tried to hide the fear that was fighting to gain control of his mind. He looked everywhere except at the advisor’s face, trying to avoid his inquiring gaze. So far, the others might have been fooled by Samuel’s back story, but this one would undoubtedly see him for what he was: a boy who did not belong here. He could feel drops of cold sweat running down his cheeks and along the back of his neck, as the advisor now looked at him with sudden interest.
    “This one is quite young,” observed Morghan. “He looks … inexperienced. Are you sure he is qualified for this important ask?”
    “I’m sure Clive would not have recommended him if he did not think he was,” answered the