Chains scrape the air beyond the Courtyard of Gerisdar: spikes of chains radiating in every angle, embedded into walls with rusted hooks and pins, and knitted together like a spider’s web. In the centre, the Dark Tower looms ensnared, spreading fear down the spine of those unfortunate to lay their eyes upon it.
“Blood”, said the Prior horrified, shuddering uncontrollably.
“The efforts to hold the witch”, said the Adept, “was useless.”
The Prior glanced warily at his surrounding, doing his best not to vomit upon seeing the sight of the mass of corpses at his feet.
“Argh... I warned them… I warned them this would happen… ”, muttered the old man in a whisper, a white mist expelling from his mouth.
Boom!
The old man jumped as a luminous bolt lanced through the gloomy, dark clouds. My God, I’m too old for this. The younger folks don’t know what danger approaches. The man beside him bustled as he bent over to pick something next to one of the corpse.
“What is it you have there?”, asked the old man as he scrambled closer nervously, trying to stay close to his only source of security.
“A knife,” replied the hooded figure, crouched on bent knees, “seems that this one was taken by surprise.” The Adept pointed the blood-covered knife towards the corpse the knife had laid next to. The corpse was of a brown-haired man, looking to have a fit frame of roughly six-foot, laid sprawled on his side. His dead eyes still frozen with fright, blood seeping from his open mouth in a fine thread.
How could this have possibly happen? The Prior thought, this region is supposed to be the most heavily guarded in the kingdom!
“Only fools think they are safe from Death,” said the Adept as if reading the old man’s thoughts. “It’s only a matter of time before all meet their fate.”
“So you’re calling these people‑”
“Fools…,” stated the cloaked assassin unsympathetically.
“Why are you always so…”
“Hurry!!!” shouted a distant voice behind them.
The two on-lookers turned to see a battalion of soldiers approaching. The soldiers were clad in dark-red armor, bearing the Kingdom’s insignia for those of highest rank, a Gold dragon, on their arm brace and matching shields. Each soldier equipped with a spear in their hand and sword at their side. At the front, leading the battalion is a brown-haired, middle-aged man.
“We came as soon as we could,” said the head soldier, as he finally stopped at their feet, “I am Captain Jirandor, Leader of the Dragon Regent.” He looked at the group of dead bodies laid before them and continued, “we have been occupied with hostile forces around the Valleys nearby. We have not seen or faced them in close combat… the bloody cowards fight from the thick of night from the brush.” He crunched his face in disgust and shot spittle over the side of the stone bridge.”
“These attackers were wise to use the circumstances to their advantage. The night serves those that walk in the Shadows.”
“Bah… Only cowards like you assassins bother to hunt prey from the shadows. None of you have the courage to face an opponent full front!”
“Say it again… I’ll cut those ears off your pretty little head!”
This argument went on for a while.
YOU ARE READING
Awakening (WIP)
FantasyJarrod, a 16-year old farmer boy finds a dragon egg in the valley of his hunting grounds. Afterwards, things in his life start to go off course as he is thrust into a war to stop the release of the Master, a ancient figure bent on destroying all tha...
