B006T5JMRC EBOK (2 page)

He lowered his sword and began to slowly advance once again. By now, many of the knights, including Illadar, were aware of the circumstances involving the glaciated layer beneath them. They took each step with caution, warning those who were not perceptive of the situation to take heed.

“We’re going to die... We’re going to die...” the dismayed boy mumbled to himself as if in a delusional state of mind.

Finally, they made their way to the opposite side of the mound and stood a mere fifty feet from the enormous creature. With each breath, she exhaled an icy gust that would weave around the knights’ bodies, chilling their flesh, even through the layers of armor.

Her head was ivory with many round, hardened, leather-like pieces of skin all bound together across her aged face. Upon the top of her skull were three horns that protruded down to her snout like sharp, jagged teeth; each one tipped with a sky blue. Sylicia’s body was corpulent and covered in beautiful scales which held the appearance of oil being spilled into a pool of water. As the light of the mysterious crystals cast a luminous glow upon her, the coloration swirled and glistened—she was a glorious dragon. To her side lay a pile of rotting animals she kept close in case the urge to feed overcame her. They seemed to have been there for quite some time as the flesh had taken on the texture of jerky. The chilling atmosphere in the room was apparently not enough to preserve the meat and the putrid stench engulfed their nostrils.

“We need to make our move soon, General. The ice is going to give way beneath our feet if we do not make haste,” the figure in the black robe urged in a low tone; his voice raspy and mysterious, almost sounding inhuman. His face could not be seen through the heavy hood draped over his head. Only his bony fingers, abnormally pale and long, remained visible.

“All right...” General Jedah tightened his fingers around the hilt of his sword. “On my word—drop the banner.” His eyes narrowed as he glared in bitter hatred toward the dragon.

Once again he raised his sword into the air; this time directing the tip forward to alert the knights it was time to prepare for the fight to begin. Within mere moments, fate would determine who was to live—and who was to die.

Jedah took a deep breath as he mentally prepared himself for the blood thirsty battle. “Now, charge!” he cried out. Obvious veins pulsed on his forehead, throbbing against the inner walls of the steel helm as though purple worms lived snugly beneath his flesh.

The man in black lowered his arms as the banner dropped to the floor; it hit the sheet of ice with a clang. He immediately turned to run, scurrying to a nearby ice mound where he ducked snugly against the protection of the outward facing side—a routine performed many times before. Footsteps rang out as the knights rushed forward; the general taking the lead as they closed in on Sylicia.

As Jedah lifted his sword to strike the dragon, a cry rang out from behind him, echoing off the cave walls.

“I can’t do this! Mother... Mother, where are you?!”

General Jedah immediately noted it was the same young boy from earlier. The boy’s knees hit the floor in a moment of utter despair – his fear had completely consumed any rational thoughts as he tossed his helmet to the icy floor. He tugged at his blonde hair in a frenzy of frustration.

Fury ran through the general. “You stupid, little coward!”

Suddenly, the ground began to tremble as an ear piercing roar consumed the room. The force grew so powerful it caused Jedah to stumble backward. His feet slid on the ice as he struggled to maintain his balance, nearly dropping the weapon gripped within his palm.

Sylicia had awakened.

Chapter 1: The Black Dragon, Firehart

T
he general staggered into the castle’s royal hall, straining as he lowered himself to a knee before the King. His journey home had been enduring, and despite the minor care provided many of his wounds were healing. He glanced up toward the King seated upon a grand golden throne, clad in a floor-length, blue velvet robe.

“We have risen victorious over the beast! Sylicia is dead.”

King Valamar rested his chin on the palm of his left hand. His gentle, green eyes were directed toward the general. “Are you sure all this violence is necessary, Jedah?” Doubt swarmed within his mind.

The King was a respected and kind ruler of Mirion. Over the previous years, Jedah had proven himself time and time again until the King felt confident to place full trust within the general’s hands. Yet, there were still uncertainties about his actions that caused the King to feel apprehensive about his judgment. There had always been a working balance until the war upon dragons. Although conflicts arose in the past, it never came to the point in which eliminating an entire species was necessary.

“Of course, Your Highness, do not forget it was those vicious creatures who took your only daughter from you.”

The King looked to the floor; it felt like an emotional stone hit him in the chest.

“Yes... I suppose you are right,” King Valamar replied.

The general stood, grunting in discomfort. “Do I have your authority to train more citizens for our final mission to eliminate the youngest and last living dragon, Firehart?”

The King sighed, “Yes. Go.” He motioned General Jedah to leave the room. Jedah bowed and exited the hall. “I do hope this is the right decision.” King Valamar muttered to himself in uncertainty.

As the months passed, the forest where Firehart dwelled grew lush and thick as the spring season blended into summer. The small bonfire flickered vibrantly, casting a soothing glow against the stone cave wall. Its warmth circulated throughout the room, creating the perfect atmosphere for relaxing. The old sorcerer stroked his grey beard as he pondered deep thoughts. It had been three months since the news of Sylicia’s death spread across Ravondore. She had been one of the final two remaining dragons and a respected elder.

“It won’t be much longer, you know, Kale,” The sorcerer spoke as he adjusted a steel pot which held a delicious smelling stew he was preparing for dinner. “The general will come for you too.”

“Then let him come! I’ll rip his repulsive, bald head off between my teeth.” The black dragon shuffled around before finding a comfortable spot to lie down on the cool, stone floor. His dark scales reflected a bluish tint as the flames fed off the crackling wood. “I’m not afraid of them, Thomas. Humans disgust me; all they care about is what they can take and who they can kill.” He snuffed. “And they’re ugly too.”

The old sorcerer laughed. “Now, now, Kale, let’s not forget that although I do have magical abilities, when it comes down to the facts—I too am human.” He chuckled again before spooning a hearty portion of stew into his mouth. “
Mmm
, delicious—very hot—but delicious.” He smiled. “See now, Kale, if you were a human, you too could enjoy this magnificent meal.”

The dragon huffed. “I prefer something fresher.” Kale slid his foot out, digging his claws into an animal he had caught earlier in the day. He then tossed it into the air and caught it within his mouth full of sharp, white teeth.

The sorcerer wrinkled his nose as Kale crunched his dinner; the bones loudly snapping as he chewed. “How barbaric,” Thomas said, rolling his eyes.

The two friends laughed. Kale—known to most as
the black dragon, Firehart—
had been friends with the wise sorcerer, Thomas, for many decades.

Thomas had spent many weeks debating Kale’s predicament. He knew General Jedah was a cold-hearted man with bitter hatred in his heart and the lust for power. Jedah would stop at nothing to ensure Kale’s death. As Thomas finished slurping the last of his stew, he intertwined his fingers, resting his bearded chin upon his knuckles.

“So then, what do you intend to do?” his bushy eyebrows narrowed as the mood shifted to a more serious tone.

“If you want the truth—I don’t know. Stay and fight, I suppose. Sylicia was old; she couldn’t defend herself. If they are ignorant enough to trespass within my home, I’ll fry them alive.” Kale opened his mouth and flames shot out, licking at his snout.

“Jumping balt toads! You nearly hit me, Kale!” Thomas leapt up, nearly stumbling on his crimson robe as strands of his grey beard smoked. “Do you know how long it took me to grow this?!”

“I’m sorry...” Kale lowered his silvery eyes.

Although Kale’s age surpassed a normal human’s, among his kind he was young and had trouble controlling his emotions.

Thomas patted at the ends of his beard to ensure nothing still sizzled.

“You’ll need a plan you know,” He moaned, lowering his achy body to the floor, situating himself into a cross-legged position. “If you intend to sit around waiting for them to come, then I presume you’re as good as dead.”

“Great. Thanks for the support.” Kale rolled his massive body over, turning his back to the sorcerer.

Thomas grew quiet as he pondered yet again. He knew his dear friend was very strong; but not enough to defeat the incredible army which would soon come for him. The sorcerer was friend to both human and dragon kind. Because of that, he was able to obtain information from both sides in order to implement a plan to help save Kale. Yet, every time he tried to think of an idea, his mind remained clouded and uncertain. He had overheard gossip at the tavern in the town of Kimolde. General Jedah had devised an army much stronger than before; ensuring each warrior underwent rigorous training. Jedah was determined to rise victorious as
The
Man Who Rid the World of Dragons
.

“Maybe you could leave this area. There’s more out there in this world than just the continent of Ravondore—I’ve seen it, you know.” Thomas felt disappointed with himself for falling short on ideas. The old sorcerer knew—although Kale would never admit it—the dragon relied on him for help with the situation.

“What about Sundra? I doubt you would be bothered there,” the sorcerer suggested.

“Thomas, this is my home. I’m not leaving—let them come.” He rested his head heavily on his clawed front feet as a puff of smoke swirled from his nostrils. “Besides... Sundra is a big block of ice—hardly compatible. Not to mention, humans are bitter beings. It doesn’t matter where I go; being the last of my kind, there will always be someone who will seek to slay the only remaining dragon.”

At that moment Thomas realized there would be no way to take Kale willingly to safety. However, he wasn’t ready to lose hope. Kale had always been a loyal friend—quite moody, but loyal none the less—he wasn’t about to abandon him in a time of need.

“I need some fresh air. Let’s go for a walk to the cliffs.” Thomas needed an excuse to get out and gather his tangled thoughts.

“I suppose we can. I presume there won’t be nights like this once they find me.” He turned to Thomas. “Want a lift?”

Once Thomas was securely positioned on his back, seated away from the dragon’s massive folded wings, Kale rose to his feet. Small pebbles and dirt tumbled to the floor from Kale’s torso as his massive feet tromped against the ground. The two made their way to the cave opening where the crisp night air filled their lungs, a blissful scent of pine and jasmine. A soothing ocean breeze sifted through Thomas’ long grey hair, causing him to grip his pointed, crimson hat, pulling it down firmly upon his head to ensure it wouldn’t fly away. Kale made his way through the wide forest path formed from many of his previous outings to the cliffs, a favorite seclusion he and Thomas shared. They could hear animals scurry away as Kale’s feet tromped the ground.

As they approached the cliffs, the forest scenery slowly merged with tropical foliage. Palm trees and wildflowers bordered the trail. Finally, the beautiful panoramic view of a vibrant starlit sky came into view.

“Ahh, here we are, my dear friend,” Thomas said as he slid off Kale’s back.

The two sat beside one another, admiring their surroundings. The steep ledge declined to a rocky bay where waves crashed in a repetitive pattern, creating a soothing ambiance. They enjoyed the moment, watching silently as a far off transport ship sailed along the horizon; the large white sail faintly noticeable through the darkness.

Finally, Kale broke the silence. “Why does General Jedah hate dragons so much? I don’t understand the purpose of this war against us.” He exhaled heavily.

“Well, I do know a thing or two about the general’s history.” Thomas replied. “I was in collaboration with the King when Jedah had his first encounter with a dragon. Would you care to see?”

“You know, for a wise old man you sure do ask pointless questions. Of course I want to see! I am the one who questioned the situation after all.”

Thomas chuckled as he waved a hand slowly in an upward direction. “
Mortana nul kardenea,
” he chanted.

Instantly, a puddle-like mass appeared in front of them, floating in mid-air. An image of the general appeared within it. He stood inside a stone room, occupied with a row of many narrow beds. Thomas quickly explained it was the sleeping quarters near the barracks for lower ranked knights in training. Kale could immediately see the vision was from many years ago, as Jedah looked much younger. He was clad in dingy cloth with a lightweight chest plate commonly worn by squires while sparring. Kale found Jedah’s short curled, frizzy, red hair to be amusing.

“Are you sure you’re ready for a delivery mission?” a voice chimed in.

It was Saldin; his face was dirty with very uneven patches of hair growth around his chin and upper lip. Although this was from many years ago, his smile was already repulsive with yellowish stains upon his teeth.