"war of dragons" by Mitchell B. Clarke

War of the Dragons

            The sun seemed to hang still in the azure sky of mid-morning. The council of the Lords stood out upon the battlements of Tah-Pallar, the ancient castle of the council of Lords. Eight men and women made up the council. The council was the governing force in Durrin Gar; they ruled with kindness and fairness.

            This day however was not one for caring or justice. War was abroad; both in Durrin Gar and Lak-Rha. The dragons, beings as old as the world itself, were restless in the east. The Clave once again stirred in the west; and the lands to the north had been reclaimed by the Durkahur.

            With potential enemies on three of four sided, hopes of escape from the land were almost void. South was the only way left to the members of the council, and that way held perils that made all other threats seem small and insignificant. The valley of the Necromancers lay south, and all who entered the valley were never seen from again, not alive at least.

            "Lord Palin, the scouts report a gathering of Durkahur to the north of us. The time for action is now." Lord Garrett stood at High Lord Palin's side.

            Palin replied with a swift nod of his head. "Ready the armies. We go south."

* * *

            The sound of boots scraping across stone brought Lance back to reality. Keys jingled in the distance. Tom, Lance's, best friend suddenly emerged from the shadows of the dark rampart. The inner courtyard of Tar-Pallar was lit by the flickering of four torches, and so didn't shine much light on the castle rampart. As a result Tom had approached without being seen. Lance though had no need for sight, the darkness wasn't a problem for him, as he had spent most of his childhood in the embrace of the night. Lance had grown up a thief, stealing what he needed to survive, later though, at the age of fifteen, he was arrested and relocated into the High Knighthood. They were the defenders of the High Lords, even though no one in the castle remembered the High Lords. Legends said though that one day the High Lords would return, and that if the castle ever fell into evil hands the Dead would once again walk in the realm of the living. Or so the legends said. Lance had no time to believe in legends. Legends had the ability to grasp hold of your thoughts and feelings and lead you off the path you were on. Thus Lance stayed a far distance away from the false beliefs of legends.

            "How's the watch business?" questioned Tom as he sat down beside Lance.

            "No worse then usual." Lance replied. "At least the attacks have lifted."

            "Ya. Those last two waves were real bad."

            Lance just nods his head as he looks out over the expanse of trees that surround the fortress.

            “Ya. That they were friend. That they were.”