The Fires of Cerran

Chapter Nine

The rider stopped short of the castle gates, as men rushed to him and quickly watered his mare and took her reins. The rider took off his helmet, feeling the breeze and sunlight against his face for the first time in several days. He looked around, down towards Ceraborn and seemed to take particular interest in the watch towers that surrounded the city's outer walls. He took a drink of water, and threw the rest over his head to cool him from the ride.
'The King, I must speak with him at once.' He demanded in a low, gruff voice. He looked to the group of men that surrounded him, but none seemed to respond meaningfully to his request. They whispered amongst each other, before one of the older men stepped forward to meet the rider.
'We've had no word from Cerran. Is the Lord in trouble, or worse?' Said the older man, the rider saw that he was wearing under armour and held a small blade at his hip. He was a gatekeeper of some kind, but the rider did not care for that. He needed the King, and this man was not the king.
'By the word of Lord Tharandal, let me pass or I shall cut your head from your shoulders.' the rider returned, stepping closer to the gatekeeper and putting a hand on his own blade. The gatekeeper grunted, but let the rider through. The man rushed through the gate keep, looking only towards the entrance to the Inner Halls, a place he had seen only as a young squire boy years before when he had ridden along with a group of knights and banner men at the request of the High Lord as he feasted with the King. The castle was quieter than he remembered, the distant sound of horses and chickens in the courtyard quickly left him as he cornered one of the many dark, dimly lit corridors and kept marching towards the Great Halls. He came to a great door, and held his breathe for a moment before entering, a light cool breeze hit him as the door swung open and the sound of cellos filled the air. The King was sat on his throne, with his wife beside him and his child in his arms, blissfully unaware of the darkness that now befell the Kingdoms. The guards stood to attention as the man quickened his pace and came towards the throne, as he did so he noticed two men stood high above him and a man beside the King, almost in Shadow.
'My King, I bring a message from Lord Tharandal of Sera.' He said, bowing his head and taking a knee at the foot of the steps that led to the thrones.
'Tharandal? I haven't heard from him in months, please say there hasn't been trouble in the mines again!' The King said, holding his baby close to his chest and softly rubbing its cheek with his fingers.
'No Your Majesty, the troubles are not in the mines. It's Cerran, My Lord, it has been attacked.'
The King looked up, his eyes showing an increased worrisome expression. The man looked from the King to the two men standing above him.
'The stronghold, My Lord, it's been destroyed. As has Cerran itself.' He said, his voice faint.
'What?' Said the King, his face losing colour.
'Yes sir, we rode out six nights back. There were flames, they were as tall as the stronghold itself! The place has been taken.' The man watched the King as he passed his child to his wife and stood, Brodon came closer to the man.
'Taken? By what?' He asked.
'A dragon.' Replied the man, his eyes fixed upon the King as he leaned over him. The King took a moment, his mouth open slightly and his eyes fixed upon nothing. He slowly blinked, closed his mouth and gulped before looking to the man again.
'How is this possible? It cannot be.' his words barely fumbled from his mouth as he spoke. The man fell onto one of the steps, and closed his eyes before looking out onto the expanse of the Great Halls.
'We saw the flames in the evening, and we rode across towards them. We thought the stronghold was on fire perhaps from the blacksmiths. When we got there, everything was gone. The village, its a smouldering wreck of ash and bones. There are buildings that have crumbled entirely, and the walls are melted and broken. We found a few survivors, no more than one hundred or so, they had fled into the forests with whatever they could, most have nothing except the clothes they wear. Then we went to the stronghold. There are bodies, burnt charred remains of good men, and the place is nothing more than rubble now. That's when we heard it, from within the stronghold walls, it's a dragon.' He said, tears forming and falling like spring raindrops and his hands shaking slightly. The King bent down to the man, and turned his head towards the man who stood in the shadows.
'Velgar, prepare the High Chambers at once. We must stop this beast.' He said, his voice sounding more angry now than worried.
The man in the shadows nodded, and retreated further into the darkness, as did the men above the place. The rider wept, and the King held his outstretched arm and comforted him. He asked two guards to take the man and ensure he had rest and food, and that a message be sent to Tharandal stating that the King would send everything he could to aid the Lord and his people.