On a road of dusted dirt trotted what seemed like a earth god's call of war. The very earth could split but the path would still lead onward. Horses of twenty with the same number of men held flags of white, except not to surrender. Each man held reins of black in which the sun burnt into their flesh and the horses' skin. Weapons sprouted from their pouches like bare silver trees and the surroundings grew from open grass roads to mountain terrain.
If I were to tell you their thoughts I would say they were sullen with all the desires to live but nothing to live for. After all their figures were drawn in by silver, their bags holding weapons and small home treasures. The food was mostly gone after a feast last night. There eyes were dead, fixed to a large rocky mountain with a cave taking up half it's side like a gaping mouth with it's own teeth.
A man near the back looked up at the sky, eyes narrowing at the sun's hot caress. He could turn back now, after all he knows he'll die. I know he'll die. He took his last breath of freedom before giving it away to the clouds of death. His horse agreeing in pants of breath. Sealing both their fates and accepting what is too come in a tale of woe.
Unmounting, the twenty readied their weapons, armor of warm metal melted to their breasts and legs, helmets and shields protecting them little against the burning heat. Each gave a look back to their white flags, which they took and cut a certain part in a design that could be writing of old or codes. I could not tell. With that they turned to the sun, to see a lazy bird almost as if he noticed their decisions and awaited to sing a song of farewell when the battle ends.
Dragging their feet like a ghost but just as silent they filled the once neatly built stairs in twos. They looked like beggars and would probably taste like dirt as well.
There was only one, not as buff or stringy like the rest. He turned to the horizon, and stopped. It was the same man as before. Except this time his dead face was determined. He perked his lips and whistled to his bird friend.
I roared back, and the heat almost turned cold.
Drawing in wings and plummeting to the earth, they only had seconds before death took them swift. That didn't mean there wasn't a chance for them to run, after all a dragon is known to sometimes play with there food when amused.
All 20 took to their positions holding up their shields of iron to protect them from the dropping magma, like drool it pooled from the mouth of gods' wrath and blew fire from the earth's core at them. Which they grunted and screamed as the wind of strong wings blew them and the fire back into the mountain.
Some held their ground striking at armored skin as a mouth that could eat one person whole rained down on their heads. The horses abandoned moved to retreat or advance forward, their loyalty railed in beady eyes. I was personally amused at their restlessness. Diving up to the sky, away from the stairs another wave of deadly heat took to the crowd and some gave cries, their tears burning to vapor.
To show off more power, claws struck the mountain's side pulling as if it were foil and taking the ground like it was a weak blanket. The men scrambled away from the cracks sliding down with some boulders. Now he had split their forces in two.
This was an epic battle worthy of woeful ballets in the human realm. Filled with bitter eyes of water and struggling hearts of stone. That to my displeasure is not what happened. For a man had snuck by to the cave, of which I don't know how, for I considered him dead. I had somehow not noticed a wizard, a beard less one with magic that had no barrier to hide behind, was in a cave that was reinforced with more magic than kings could handle.
When I had taken to the sky, he took this opportune chance to cast a weak spell that I found to uninteresting to take notice. He snuck into my treasured cove, where he could have taken anything, but he only took one thing. This was uncommon for a common, where humans saw no point to fight they would hide in my cavern only to be so dazzled by the jewels that they hadn't touched a thing even when i had finished the massacre, and ate the coward themselves.
YOU ARE READING
The Dragon
Short StoryAn army of 20 or so are heading to the end of their quest. Reaching a cave that wishes to swallow the sky, their main goal is to kill the Dragon that resides within it. A short story where the narrator isn't what they seem.