On the peak of a bleak and black mountain, there sat a dragon with hide as white as bone. He gazed at the setting sun, feeling it take the last of the precious warmth of the day and drown the world into chilling night. The dragon sat, waiting for nothing in particular but the passing of time.
Footsteps.
Heavy footsteps.
"My Lord," came a deep, groveling voice. "We have news of the traitor."
The white dragon did not move.
"Do tell, Makhai." he drawled, his voice like sharded ice. The dragon who had arrived, a wooden brown in color, knelt to the ground and bowed his head.
"Our scouts have gathered information about a yellow dragon and a white haired man entering Paelford. I fear they have told Willard of your plans for war, My Lord."
The white dragon let out a slow, deep chuckle.
"Why do you fear? It matters not if they have told of my plans. We are dragons, Makhai, do not forget, and Men are our lessers. Talos has chosen his side, let us show him what he has left behind."
The brown dragon, Makhai, looked up to find the white dragon staring at him, his eyes menacing.
"What of the white haired man? I have heard tell that Talos has chosen him as his companion." The white dragon curled his lip, as if revolted.
"Despicable, I did not raise him in such a way. Perhaps I did too little for that wretch, befriending vermin," he spat. "It is no matter. Makhai, gather your strongest flyers."
Makhai straightened and arched his neck, rocks shifting beneath his feet.
"And our task, My Lord?" he growled excitedly.
The white dragon stretched out his futile wings, slashed to oblivion. They flapped once, wind whistling through their gashes. The white dragon's eyes, as tangerine as the setting sun, flashed.
"Fly for Aeredale, the small riverside village not far from our barrier. Show them the sheer might of dragons."
Makhai dipped his head, growling low in his throat.
"And what of survivors, My Lord?"
The white dragon, King Minos the Deplorable, let out a slow, wheezing chuckle.
"Leave none."
YOU ARE READING
Talos and Cyrus
FantasyWar is coming... yet no one knows. The Deplorable festers in his anger, his rage newly ignited as one of his own suddenly betrays him, rocking him to his core. He seethes alone, waiting... For five hundred years, dragons and men have been isolated...
