At a Distance: The Story of Anariel

Page Three

            I spun around to see him covered in small, moving, brown fragments. I was startled and confused for a few seconds before I realized they were our cargo; the rats. I knew how much Mr. Elderage cared about his creatures, but I felt like Mordred’s life was worth a little more than theirs. I grabbed a nearby stick and began swinging away at the rats, bludgeoning Mordred in the process. He yelled for me to stop but there was no other way to get them off.

            Without warning the rats spontaneously exploded and splattered both of us with guts. We both froze, staring in horror at all the blood. What the hell had just happened?

            “You’re welcome,” Came a cheerful voice from behind me. Mordred started making horrified comments in a whiny voice, which I simply dropped the stick and wiped the blood from my face.

            Four men had approached from the direction of Ravenhold. Three were riding horses and the one who had spoken was riding an unusually large grey wolf. They were all wearing what appeared to be fairly expensive armor and carried many well crafted weapons. The one riding the wolf was particularly extravagant. He wore glimmering golden armor and had a crazy look in his eyes.

            They had all come down from their steeds and were approaching with caution.

            “What is your business here?” The elf in the group asked with a stern demeanor.

            “We were delivering those rats to Ravenhold, but our carriage was overturned and our horses ran off,” Mordred paused. “And now our cargo is…on me,” The elf’s expression softened.

            “Ravenhold has been destroyed. We just came from there,” My eyes widened at this news. What kind of catastrophe destroys an entire inland city?

            “My name is Da Realest G. This is Fladnag,” The elf pointed to the gilded man with the wolf. “Chad Walmart,” He nodded in the direction of a Halfling. “And Gee Butterpads,” The human named last spoke up.

            “Buttersnaps,” He stressed. The way he said it made it seem like the elf called him by the wrong name quite often. The elf, G, didn’t have any sort of reaction. He simply acted as if the man had never spoken.

            “I’m Mordred. That’s Anariel,” Before my name was completely out of Mordred’s mouth there was a blinding flash and then a bronze dragon appeared overhead.

            “Florida!” The call came from the sky. I stumbled back into the edge of the forest as he great beast landed. On its black was an elderly man and a necromancer.

            “I own this tavern!” The old man loudly declared in his hoarse voice.

            “There is no tavern left and you never owned it!” G snapped with an almost amusing fury. His ears twitched and his face reddened.