Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon

his plan in motion, an arrow from Freston lodged itself in his neck and the poor man fell to his knees.
    “Son, I seriously think you should get up and defend yourself,” said Freston. “Better to die on your feet like a man than cower like a snail.”
    Samuel knew the archer was right. He knew all the right things to do and the proper words to say. He had recited powerful and motivating speeches many times before, during make-believe battles between friends. He knew exactly how heroes were supposed to act in dire situations, like the one they were in currently. But now he realized what made some people heroes. Now he knew the incredible amount of courage and strength of character it took to get up and face certain death.
    Suddenly he did not want to be a snail.
    He wanted to be a hero, or at least die as one.
    In a second, something snapped in his brain, as if he had cut the last bond holding him back, the last thread linking him to his former self, back in his home world. He was not a high school student anymore. He was a warrior.
    He was the Lorekeeper.
    Samuel finally got up to his feet, holding his sword in both hands. He looked around, just in time to see a Saxon rushing toward him, an axe raised above his head. Samuel barely had time to slide to his left, avoiding the blow. As the barbarian passed in front of him, the Lorekeeper struck him down with the pommel of his sword, sending the man to the ground. Samuel raised his sword and turned to deliver a final blow to his enemy.
    All he had to do was to hit the man squirming in pain at his feet, thrust his weapon between his shoulder blades to end his life.
    Only, he could not.
    He turned his weapon sideways and was about to knock his foe unconscious, when the man suddenly swiveled and kicked the young boy’s legs from under him. Samuel did not have time to react and fell back to the ground. With one swift move, the Saxon was back on his feet and raising his axe in the air. He would not hesitate, as Samuel had done. However, before the man could bring his weapon down on the defenseless body of the boy, a dagger sliced open his jugular.
    “I should have known, the boy has never killed a man before!” said Freston. “Better learn quickly!”
    Samuel wanted to thank the archer, but something else caught his attention.
    “Sam!” yelled Malloy. “Go help Atwood!”
    Samuel ran to where Atwood was standing. The vision in front of him was straight out of a nightmare. The warrior looked more like a horseman from the Apocalypse than a mortal soldier. Even with an arrow sticking out of his leg, he was pushing back his enemies with his shield, then striking them with his massive sword. Already, a dozen bodies lay at his feet, creating a morbid obstacle that the rest of the Saxons had to climb over simply to get to the madman.
    “I’m fine,” the warrior yelled back to Malloy. “I’m only trying to teach good manners to these savages.”
    Samuel turned back to Malloy, who was now trying to attract the giant Saxon’s attention. A little farther on, Darroch was still lying on the ground, apparently unconscious from the devastating blow he had received only a few minutes earlier.
    Unfortunately for Malloy, his plan was working. The colossus turned his attention to the young warrior taunting him, leaving the unconscious Darroch alone for now. The young warrior sized up the enormous Saxon in front of him, holding his sword in his right hand and a dagger in the left. The giant was strong and massive, but he was also slow, hindered by the imposing armor he was wearing. He walked over to Malloy and raised one of his swords. The Briton easily dodged the hit with a side-step, countering with a blow of his own, which had absolutely no effect on the brute.
    Rapidly, before the giant could regain his stance and deliver another blow, Malloy rolled between the legs of his foe and crouched behind him. He scanned the backside of the armor, searching for a weak spot. The colossus turned to face him, but Malloy yelled, “Freston, aim for the back of his knees! Now!”
    The archer notched an arrow and quickly raised his bow, aiming at the spot Malloy had indicated. The armor covering the colossus was protecting almost his entire body, but he still needed some space at the knees and elbows to allow them to bend. Freston spotted the minuscule target and let the arrow fly.
    The giant roared in pain as the metal arrowhead lodged itself behind his right knee. The effect, however,