Dragons

The Beginning of the End

Avalon and Laylen ran as fast as they could from the burning castle. The princess was crying, sometimes looking back. Laylen was crying too; but it was from the thick smoke that came from the castle and filled the Knights Wood. The smoke burned his eyes and filled his lungs with ash. He held on tight to the dagger that his dear friend Aric Pervis thrusted into his hand when the siege began. The knight shoved them out of the castle as fast as he could while the enemy fell upon the place like rain. Gods Aric why'd you have to be the hero? Laylen thought mournfully. The soft hearted knight was most likely dead; Laylen would only remember the kindness in Aric's brown eyes, and for naught. The boy shook his head. He could afford no distractions. Keep running. Protect the princess. Get her to safety. Keep running. Protect the princess. Get her to safety. Keep running--

A noise behind him stopped the repetition in his mind; the sound of branches breaking and soft whimpering and crying. Laylen turned around, breaking his vow to never look back. The smoke grew thicker, blacker, the flames shooting up into the air and out of the windows of the castle. Avalon had tripped over unseen bramble, some branches scratching her pretty tear stained face. She lay there in the leaves, curling herself up in a heap of pretty red cloth ruined by the smoke. In the distance behind them, Laylen heard the clanking of weapons and armor and the shouts of the enemy.

"Princess," Laylen whispered to her urgently. The noise of the dying surrounded them in echoes, the screams of the men losing their lives and the screams of their wives as they were taken by the enemy, bounced off the cruel trees that seemed to glare at them. "Princess, please you must get up, and quick! The men are coming for us."

Avalon tried pushing herself up, her thin white arms quaking with strain. She collapsed with a feeble grunt. She shook her head, her brown locks falling in her face, her eyes a sad gloomy green. "I can't, Laylen. Just leave me here."

The clanging of the armor drew nearer, the voices of the men growing more urgent as they spotted the children through the smoke. Laylen had to put his foot down; it was time to be a man for the princess. "Avalon Brightborne, your father has commanded me to protect you and that's what I intend to do."

"My father is probably dead Laylen!" And yet Avalon tried to stand up. The boy helped her, yanking her arm as the men came closer. Holding on to her hand, Laylen and Avalon ran as fast as they could, until they were lost deep within the woods. The distant shouts of the men came closer, which told the boy that the enemy wasn't going to stop until they had the princess in their clutches.

The smoke had reached even all the way into the woods, though the trees had evaded the flames that consumed the kingdom. The trees started to grow up hill, and the children had to run up the slanted land. If the gods were good enough, the trees would shield them as they went up. What gods? Laylen thought bitterly as he helped Avalon up. What gods would allow this to happen? The children reached the top of the hill, giving them the advantage of sight over the enemy.

They saw the entire city from atop the cliff. To them it seemed that everything had a fiery helmet to wear, with a plume of black smoke. Everywhere there was the enemy driving their horses over the dead and living alike. The screams that filled the air seemed to pierce through Laylen's ears and rattle his brain. "Oh gods," Avalon cried out. She covered her mouth, trying to smother the sobs that erupted from her. The air smelled of ash, burning wood and something else, something that was foul and nauseating. Laylen can only guess that bodies of the people and animals were burning. "What's that smell Laylen?"

The boy did not have the heart to tell her the truth, but the truth was ugly and foul and right there in their faces. "It's- I don't-"

"There they are!" Quickly Laylen stuffed the dagger behind Avalon, in the loop of her leather belt. A man appeared out of the trees, his once immaculate sapphire armor doused in sticky blood. His face was pale with strain, but his eyes were wild with bloodlust. His white cloak billowed behind him in the sudden gust of wind, stained with dirt and blood dried black. Laylen recognized the man, and Avalon did too, for she gasped in disgust.