Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon

the table. That was one of the perks of being the advisor of a king: you always had fresh fruit. “How do you know so much about this boy and this hill?” he asked casually.
    In the blink of an eye, the dark stranger had risen to his feet. He darted over to the advisor, throwing the table and the fruit basket to the ground in the process. Taken by surprise, the old man toppled on his back, hitting the floor hard, his feet dangling in the air.
    “Do not question me, Morghan. Ever. Remember that I can kill you or your king anytime I want. The only reason you are alive is because you are of some use to me. Don’t make yourself more of a nuisance than a tool. I’m sure you would not like the consequences of such a change in your status. Am I clear?”
    “P-p-perfectly clear, my lord,” stammered Morghan.
    “Good.”
    The dark man walked back to the chair, but remained standing.
    “The party you dispatched to get the fatherless boy—how long will it take them to get back?”
    “Probably four days, five at most,” answered Morghan, still lying on the ground.
    “Then we have work to do. It will be important that we capture the sorcerer you saw earlier, as soon as he gets back to camp. We also have to brief the fatherless boy, Myrddin, on his purpose, once he is within our grasp.”
    “Understood.”
    Before he could say anything more, the dark stranger once again vanished.
    Morghan slowly got to his feet, picking up the chair, the table and the basket, trying to put the tent back in order. His muscles were aching and painful shocks rippled along his spine. He sat down on a wooden bench and stared at the apple he was still holding. A tear ran down his cheek and reached the corner of his lips.
    What had he done? What was he thinking, inviting the devil inside his tent like that? He now believed the dark stranger was up to something, but he could not say what. Even if everything the stranger had told him so far had been in the best interests of his people and to protect his king, in his guts, the advisor knew there was a part of the plan that remained hidden from his eyes.
    But what could he do?
    He was as much a part of the machinations as this dark stranger was. If he said anything to Vortigern, not only would the king probably behead him, but it would also mean that there was no plan. The army certainly would fall into total despair and then everything would be lost. His only choice was to stay the course and listen to the evil man’s plan.

CHAPTER 9

    Samuel, Malloy and the rest of the group rode north for most of the day, before setting up camp for the night. Fully aware that the king was waiting for their return, they traveled swiftly and without any interruptions, except for the few breaks they had to make in order to wait for the youngest of them, who had some difficulty keeping up with the pace set by the leading officer.
    Fortunately for Samuel, by the end of the afternoon on this first day of traveling, he was already growing accustomed to the rhythm of his horse, and was riding with a little more ease. Nevertheless, he was glad to offer his aching body a rest from the incessant pounding it had suffered. After watching old westerns and recent fantasy movies on television, he would have never thought riding a horse would be so demanding, both physically and mentally. When he sat down on the first tree trunk he saw, careful not to move to fast and hurt his buttocks even more, he felt like he would never be able stand again. Staring at the growing shadows of the trees around him, his mind was numb to anything other than the pain in his muscles and the soreness in his back.
    Kaleb and the archer named Freston immediately got to work on the men’s dinner, preparing a few rabbits and a couple of partridges they had shot earlier in the day, while waiting for Samuel. The two hefty bothers, Darroch and Atwood, gathered some wood and quickly had a fire going to repel the cold, which was slowly creeping through the forest around them. Less than an hour later, they were all gathered around the fire, savoring a tasty meal. Samuel was delighted to finally eat something other than the tasteless oatmeal they always seemed to serve in the army camp.
    When they had all finished their plates, each man took out a blade to whet or a shield to polish.
    “They say you saved Clive’s life last night,” Kaleb suddenly said to Samuel. “Is it true?”
    Samuel looked up at the officer sitting across the fire. Then he