did, he felt his skin return to normal. Actually, he felt warm all over. The cold fall day had, for him, turned into one that felt like a warm, sunny day.
I think this is going to be alright, he thought to himself as the dragon started to turn around. It moved slowly at first, but that was only its body. Yuri felt a pressure in his head, a message. Yuri forgot about the pressure, though, as he saw the blur of the dragon’s tail as it whipped around and caught him in the chest, the force of the blow picking him up and throwing him into the boulders. In the brief moment that existed between being hit by the tail and hitting the large rock 100 feet away, one thought, one warning, started to go through his mind, Beware the dragon’s… Yuri hit one of the large boulders and everything went black before he could complete the phrase in his mind.
The mayor and Lindale cringed as they saw and heard Yuri hit the boulder, first with his back and then, sickeningly, with his head as it whiplashed back. Yuri fell to the ground, his body completely limp. He looked like a little doll discarded by a bored child. Lindale started to run towards Yuri as the mayor stayed at the edge of the woods, watching the dragon as it launched itself into the air and began to fly away.
Yuri’s body was in a heap when Lindale approached. “Ah Yuri, I’m sorry,” he whispered as if speaking out loud would do more damage to his crushed body.
“Is he dead?” yelled the mayor.
“Yes, Seth, he is.”
“Damn shame. I liked that boy. I’ll go get a cart.” The mayor walked off, muttering to himself, “What the tail are we supposed to do now?”
Lindale sat down next to Yuri, his back against the boulder that had just killed Yuri and his hand resting gently on his broken body. “You were a brave boy, Yuri, and I will tell everyone that at your funeral.”
Chapter 2
Across the mountains to the east in Perantium, the largest village of the region, five mages gathered inside the citadel, a heavily fortified castle. Averaging five stories tall, with outer walls 20 feet thick, the building was, and was meant to be, intimidating. Each of the seven corners had a high tower on it, and the walls in-between had openings for archers as well as overhangs to pour boiling oil or other generally discouraging materials onto the heads of anyone gathering near the walls. Of course, as impressive the structure and those who defended it were, the real source of power was the keeper of the fortress, Mage Perante. His specialty was changing people’s minds, permanently. More than one critic of his work and power has found himself gladly giving up whatever position he or she may have had to become a willing and happy servant of Perante. His new loyal subjects were often given the chance to even sacrifice their lives for him, which they gladly did, to the shock and horror of their friends and family.
Perante’s lunch guests this day were Falanar, from Ogden, Tassaran from Midlow, Xeron from Hunting, and Winderall, from no one knew quite where. Six dogs were also in attendance in the meeting hall, favored for their ability to sense the approach of dragons. Two were Perante’s, large, black and quiet. Falanar’s, equally large but brown, was already sleeping by the fire. Tassaran’s was sitting at his side, watching attentively and drooling as Tassaran ate. Xeron had a sleek, gray Annarand, known for their speed. It was also by the fire. They were gathered around a table full of fruits, breads, pastries, and meats; greetings over, Falanar, tall and thin, was the first to speak. “Perante, where is your brother? I thought he was going to report what is going on across the mountains.”
“Yes,” Tassaran added, between taking and eating large slices of the roasted chicken in front of him, “where is Peteara? This place is a bore without him.”
“He’s dead.”
Silence filled the room. Winderall dropped his apple with a thud. “What
I think this is going to be alright, he thought to himself as the dragon started to turn around. It moved slowly at first, but that was only its body. Yuri felt a pressure in his head, a message. Yuri forgot about the pressure, though, as he saw the blur of the dragon’s tail as it whipped around and caught him in the chest, the force of the blow picking him up and throwing him into the boulders. In the brief moment that existed between being hit by the tail and hitting the large rock 100 feet away, one thought, one warning, started to go through his mind, Beware the dragon’s… Yuri hit one of the large boulders and everything went black before he could complete the phrase in his mind.
The mayor and Lindale cringed as they saw and heard Yuri hit the boulder, first with his back and then, sickeningly, with his head as it whiplashed back. Yuri fell to the ground, his body completely limp. He looked like a little doll discarded by a bored child. Lindale started to run towards Yuri as the mayor stayed at the edge of the woods, watching the dragon as it launched itself into the air and began to fly away.
Yuri’s body was in a heap when Lindale approached. “Ah Yuri, I’m sorry,” he whispered as if speaking out loud would do more damage to his crushed body.
“Is he dead?” yelled the mayor.
“Yes, Seth, he is.”
“Damn shame. I liked that boy. I’ll go get a cart.” The mayor walked off, muttering to himself, “What the tail are we supposed to do now?”
Lindale sat down next to Yuri, his back against the boulder that had just killed Yuri and his hand resting gently on his broken body. “You were a brave boy, Yuri, and I will tell everyone that at your funeral.”
Chapter 2
Across the mountains to the east in Perantium, the largest village of the region, five mages gathered inside the citadel, a heavily fortified castle. Averaging five stories tall, with outer walls 20 feet thick, the building was, and was meant to be, intimidating. Each of the seven corners had a high tower on it, and the walls in-between had openings for archers as well as overhangs to pour boiling oil or other generally discouraging materials onto the heads of anyone gathering near the walls. Of course, as impressive the structure and those who defended it were, the real source of power was the keeper of the fortress, Mage Perante. His specialty was changing people’s minds, permanently. More than one critic of his work and power has found himself gladly giving up whatever position he or she may have had to become a willing and happy servant of Perante. His new loyal subjects were often given the chance to even sacrifice their lives for him, which they gladly did, to the shock and horror of their friends and family.
Perante’s lunch guests this day were Falanar, from Ogden, Tassaran from Midlow, Xeron from Hunting, and Winderall, from no one knew quite where. Six dogs were also in attendance in the meeting hall, favored for their ability to sense the approach of dragons. Two were Perante’s, large, black and quiet. Falanar’s, equally large but brown, was already sleeping by the fire. Tassaran’s was sitting at his side, watching attentively and drooling as Tassaran ate. Xeron had a sleek, gray Annarand, known for their speed. It was also by the fire. They were gathered around a table full of fruits, breads, pastries, and meats; greetings over, Falanar, tall and thin, was the first to speak. “Perante, where is your brother? I thought he was going to report what is going on across the mountains.”
“Yes,” Tassaran added, between taking and eating large slices of the roasted chicken in front of him, “where is Peteara? This place is a bore without him.”
“He’s dead.”
Silence filled the room. Winderall dropped his apple with a thud. “What
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