Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon

look like much too you, but he is a powerful being, much more powerful than he realizes. If you can, dispose of him quickly, before he can defend himself.”
    “Understood.”
    Morghan looked back at the cross.
    When he looked up again, the dark man was gone. The old man remained in his uncomfortable chair, leaning back on the hard wood and looking at the cushioned seat where the stranger in black had sat a few moments ago. He knew he would never use his favorite chair again.
    He simply could not sit where the devil had sat just a few seconds ago.
    Morghan now knew it could only be the king of demons he had been dealing with. Only the lord of hell could have such an effect on the human soul.
    For the second time in recent days, Morghan cried. This time, however, he cried for the salvation of his own soul.

CHAPTER 13

    Samuel and his companions had been traveling in the dense and misty forest for two days now. Fearing another trap by the Saxons, the group had decided to ride using the cover of trees, taking a long detour around the path they had journeyed on to arrive at the abbey a few days earlier. The trail was harder to negotiate and more hazardous, causing an extra day of delay, but it was worth it in order to remain hidden from a devious enemy. To make up for lost time, hoping to find safer ground as soon as possible, the group had been advancing relentlessly through the dark foliage and muddy terrain, stopping only for a few hours at a time to rest and let their mounts gather their strength. There was no doubt in everyone’s mind that the Saxons had not simply abandoned their prey after their last defeat, two days earlier. Surely they were still looking for the small group, and probably setting up another ambush. If the Britons were foolish enough to find themselves within their grasp again, this time the barbarians would not let their vanity take over. They would kill them swiftly and without hesitation.
    When Kaleb finally declared that they were out of danger and back in more familiar territory, Samuel immediately felt relieved and grateful. Looking around, he saw the same thankful expression on the tired faces of his companions, like a weight had been lifted off their broad shoulders. Still, they did not let their guard down, watchful for any signs of a surprise attack from an unseen enemy.
    Everyone, that is, except the young child, Myrddin Emrys.
    Samuel had peeked in his direction a few times since their departure, though never for more than a few seconds, fearing the boy would spot him staring and misinterpret his intentions. Myrddin always appeared perfectly at peace, smiling gently and clearly enjoying the trip out of the abbey. The large stone building must have felt like a prison at times to a young boy his age, and it was understandable that he would experience a sense of freedom on this journey. Samuel remembered how the boy had told him he could see the future, how he had visions of things to come. He had also mentioned to the Lorekeeper how these visions never included him, something that made the young man a little uneasy. Samuel had tried to comprehend this power that Myrddin had described, but was having a hard time wrapping his head around the ability to witness events before they occurred. Every time he organized his thoughts around the concept, the questions multiplied in his head, and he would end up more confused than before.
    For instance, if the boy could foresee events that were yet to happen, could he know whether or not there was a Saxon attack brewing in the near future? And if he could, in fact, predict such an attack, was he calm and at peace because the group had decided to take a course away from danger?
    When the second day of traveling came to an end, the group reached the camp where Samuel and his companions had first stopped on their way to the abbey. It was decided they would build a fire and stay here for the night, one last stop before reaching the Briton army and turning Myrddin over to their leader. Exhausted from the excessive riding they had endured in the last forty-eight hours, the men quickly ate their dinner and lay down to get a decent night of sleep. No one seemed inclined to tell stories.
    That night, though, Samuel’s sleep was not peaceful. His inner voice would not keep quiet. He had listened to Angeline and let the story play itself out, letting himself be swept along by the current of the plot. However, it sometimes felt as though he was on the verge