Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon

working his way into the army’s camp right now. Heck, he could be working with Vortigern as we speak, ready to take Myrddin as soon as we step in the camp.”
    “It makes a lot of sense, Keeper,” Angeline said. “Apparently, the dice did not choose you solely for your physical abilities.”
    “Can I ask you something?” said Myrddin. He was staring at her with a puzzled look.
    “Of course,” replied Angeline.
    “Why do you talk about a story and the ending of it? What story are you referring to?”
    Angeline looked up at Samuel, a little panicked by the questions Myrddin was asking. The young man raised both his hands in a sign of retreat and walked backward, toward the camp.
    “You’re on your own with this one!” he said, before turning around and running back to the camp.

    One by one, the warriors traveling with Samuel opened their eyes and stretched their muscles.
    About an hour later, everyone was up and getting ready to leave. Samuel packed up his things quickly and placed the leather bags on his horse, gently stroking its mane as he did so. He had grown accustomed to his mount and he very much enjoyed the “conversations” they had. It pinched his heart a little to know that this would probably be the last time he rode the magnificent beast.
    Once he was done, he looked for Myrddin. The young boy was back from the wood and seemed to be having some kind of argument with Ambrosius. Samuel could not make out what they were talking about, but he was almost certain it had something to do with the young boy’s safety. No one could blame the heir to the throne for being protective of the young prodigy.
    Turning his attention back to his mount, Samuel noticed Malloy walking toward him, his own horse in tow.
    “Looks as if we will be riding back to the army’s camp today,” he said to Samuel. “Let’s hope there won’t be any problems when we present Myrddin to the king … I mean, to Vortigern.”
    “Let’s hope not. Do you suppose it’s true that they will attempt to lift the curse by killing him and spilling his blood?”
    “I have no idea what their true intentions are, my friend, but if they do try to harm this child, they’ll find my sword in the way, king or not.”
    “Well, technically, you will be following your king’s wishes. Ambrosius is very fond of Myrddin and will do anything in his power to protect him.”
    “I guess you’re right. Come on, let me help you with this.”
    Malloy fastened all the leather straps, something Samuel still had a hard time with. Soon after, the group was on its way to Dinas Ffaraon, ready to face whatever awaited them there.
    In the middle of the afternoon, dark clouds gathered in the distance, over the western mountains. The wind was cold and the air charged with electricity, like the hair-raising feeling that precedes a thunderstorm. What had started out as a beautiful day was turning into a rather ominous afternoon.
    When Samuel and the rest of the group reached the outermost tents of the army camp, the ones that had been installed nearly a mile from the hill, it almost seemed like everything was back to normal, like the curse had already been lifted while they were gone. The tents were upright, the men busy with various activities. Some of them were even sitting on makeshift chairs, enjoying a pint of mead and laughing at their comrades’ jokes.
    A few of the soldiers acknowledged the group as they passed by, their mounts slowly winding among the furniture and the tents. Fortunately, no one recognized Ambrosius, for he had been careful to hide his face behind a leather bandana. As they moved closer to the small mountain, the devastation became more obvious. The first few tents had been quite a distance from the tremor’s epicenter. They had not been damaged that much by the earthquakes. However, as they kept progressing through the Briton army, the camp rapidly transformed into a chaotic display of soiled fabric, cracked wooden shafts, scattered weapons and wounded soldiers.
    Everywhere they looked, misery and despair were manifest, choking the will of men as they tried to keep faith in their ruler. It became evident that the soldiers around this place had finally lost any hope they once had. The vast majority of them had not even bothered to rebuild their camp and reset their tents. They wandered aimlessly among the debris, looking for scraps of food or a drop of potable water. Some of them were attending the wounded, but most simply sat