Young Writers Society

distant realm of amundsal.

heres chapter one of my novel mage of dragons

please criticize my work so i know how to improve please dont criticize my grammer and mechanics thank you

Chapter one:

The heirs of mastery

Year four-hundred

The stench of gore, burning wood, and the sounds of death cries filled the air around the battlefield. Flames arose from the wooden huts as they were scorched from the fire breadth of Aroland’s living torch, Sinlon. The merciless dragon attacked and destroyed what was left of the outer confines of the great fort Knöte, last great city true to the king. Sinlon let out a fierce and intimidating roar as he observed the cowering soldiers and townsmen of Aroland.

“Do not give up your bravado civilians and soldiers,” Withomi shouted wearing a singed blue, silk robe. “We can still vanquish the dragon of Aroland.” The mage raised his staff that was adorned with a large diamond at the end of its shaft. His heroic, magic infused, armor was stained with the blood and soot of his fallen soldiers. It no longer shone white. The white winged helm atop Withomi no longer bore two wings.

Many young, skilled, and pathetic soldiers gathered around the mage who had taken roll of general. Some men held pitchforks. The remaining people of fort Knöte’s military held scorched weaponry and crudely crafted swords. Despite the deference between the men they all had one common goal, to avenge those who have fallen and those who will.

All the remaining people of forte Knöte stared in awe as Sinlon summoned a sirocco that swiped up everything in its path, leaving nothing left alive. Men were thrown into the air by its winds and dropped down with broken bones and souls.

The men raised their weapons and yelled their war cries as Withomi ordered a front line advancement. Sinlon blew a fireball skyward in taut to demonstrate his versalism. With the low pitch sound of the Aroland war horn and the beat of a drum, the men charged. Withomi watched as the first line fell dead by a swipe of the dragon’s blood drenched front talons. The mage order the blue flag to be raised on both half sections of his troops. Almost instantly, the soldiers split into two groups. Withomi repeated this five time the soldiers splitting the soldiers into six groups, equaling to about sixteen per group. The groups broke out in a checkerboard formation made for advancement. The first two groups charged to the feet of the hundred foot monster. One group fell dead by the fierce fire breadth of Sinlon. The others reached the foot of the dragon and hacked viscously at the scaly feet. Sinlon looked down with what appeared to be an annoyed visage. The dragon of Aroland shook his feet and sent the men soaring through the smoke filled air, almost all fell dead.

Withomi ordered the gold and bronze flag colors to be raised. The archers walked in front of the mage, but behind the spear throwers.

“Fire!” the mage yelled raising and throwing down his arm.

The archers fired their arrows, sending them flying towards the blood thirsty dragon. None of the arrows penetrated the thick scale of the dragon of Aroland. The spearmen had the same results as the archers. Their spears fell to the ground with shattered points and shafts.

“Aim for the tongue, men of Aroland,” Withomi yelled to his archers. “Aim for the worm’s tongue!” Withomi lifted his staff and shot absorbed magic at the dragon’s mouth. The mage walked along the line of his dead archers, his gaze fell upon his dead white horse. Such is the death of Hestr, my family’s’ mot valiant horse. The mage lifted his hand of the horses shoulder and stood up. His gaze found the dragons and they both stare at each other, until Sinlon let out a shrieking roar.

“Fire!” Withomi yelled.

Sinlon snorted and bowed his giant head. The top faced the archers and spearmen.

“Charge and slash the mouth apart!”

The men obeyed and charged, screaming like angry pillagers sacking a grand city for gold and women. They charged towards the side of Sinlon’s head. Steam rose from the small opening in its mouth.

The mage yelled with frustration. The steam was so hot it singed the skin right off the soldiers, even though their faces were veiled by blue helms.

The black flag of retreat was signaled. Those lucky enough to notice the flag ran away willingly others fell dead like their brethrens.

Sinlon raised his giant head, his chin sconing the breast plate of a profligate soldier. The dragon opened his mouth, a small flame arose. Then a giant fireball was released, its direction was straight towards the mage and his archers.

The mage leaned against his staff sifting through his wide expanse of knowledge and spells, but none cam to mind. He shut his eyes awaiting the impact that would claim his life.

When Withomi conjured up his nerves to allow himself to open his eyes he realized that he was not dead. Standing in front of the mage was a six feet tall man. His silver hair fell down to his sturdy shoulders when he removed his red helm, holding it in the crook of his armpit. He threw aside his now grotesque shield. The broad iron sword, sheathed at his hip, shone bright red. Its hilt was encrusted with red rubies that shone with a great sheen like the prince’s silver hair.

The mage of diamonds sighed with relief looking at the now grotesque shield lying on the ground where the prince tossed to his left side. “Saved by a shield possessing magic”

“Aye,” the prince of Aroland said facing the mage.

Withomi looked at the man in front of him. The main part of his yellowish skinned face was covered in black soot. His red tunic bore the crest of the Aroland kings, the crossing amber colored swords with a silver shield behind them. Behind his torn tunic was a thick shirt of ruby colored chain mail that went as far down between the prince’s thighs and knees.

Withomi’s gaze directed towards the now grotesquely formed shield. “I remember when I gave your father that. He was just twenty years of age and I a mere one-hundred and fifty-five. A good year that was. Three-hundred and forty-five I do believe. And I see that you bear the chain mail, a gift from the Mirado warriors of the Armoil shrub land.”

“And I am glad to bear such armor.” Anotin said with a smile.

Withomi said noticing the quickly diminishing troops of fort Knöte, “I’m glad you came here to fight. I’m afraid to say that the fight is very much done, that is if you realize the number of soldiers left.”

“The war never ends,” Anotin said unsheathing his might ruby hilted sword, “until the enemy is destroyed. By the way my good friend, you owe me a favor. A life debt that is.”

“Aye,” Withomi said shaking the right hand of Anotin in agreement.

A lieutenant ran up to the mage of diamonds, “What orders shall commence my lord? We are low in numbers and…” the man stuttered, “and I fear the city is no longer worth dying for.”

“All the cities in Aroland, the land of the high kings, are worth dying for, no matter the circumstances.” Anotin said. The lieutenant stared in curiosity at the prince.

Anotin reached for the spear that the soldier held, he was reluctant to loosen his grip but the strong tug of the prince was enough to persuade him. The prince stared at the dragon, and the dragon stared back at him. The prince then throttled the spear at the beast. It soared through the air and imbedded itself in the cartilage of Sinlon’s nose. Blood oozed from the small puncture. The beast roared shooting flames out into the murky sky. Sinlon placed his head on the ground readying for a fireball. Anotin raised his mighty blade and threw towards the dragon’s mouth at the same instant at which Sinlon released his ball of magical fire. The sword passed through the fireball with not even a burn mark. The blade imbedded into the tongue of Sinlon, tearing through his bottom jaw and halfway out. The blood came out of the jaw like a waterfall. The worm roared a high pitched roar that would even make a deaf man cringe from the pang in his ears. Sinlon staggered backward, mouth still against the ground. He fell to is right side and darkness encased his mind. He fell into the eternal sleep filled with horrible nightmares of pain and death that is the after life of a dragon.

Although Sinlon, the dragon of Aroland had been killed, its last spewed ball of fire still burned the air and soared at an impressive speed. The prince opened his mouth in fear for death had finally run into him, his fate had been chosen. He braced himself for the oncoming pain, but the mage stepped in the flames path.

“Yes!” the mage yelled with joy for his sage mind had finally thought of a spell. “Yes! Fá… fram!”

The fireball collided with the mage and Anotin was sure that the mage had committed suicide, but his assumption was wrong.

Withomi stood in front of the six feet tall man, his staff raised high in air, and laughing in joy. The diamond atop the mage’s staff was no longer it translucent diamond color. Instead it was bright red and orange, the color of magical fire that could only come from a dragon.

“Absorption. Absorption is how to beside great power,” Withomi said with an ear to ear grin. “The dragon’s magic is absorbed, therefore making its fire easy to absorb, very simple concept really.”

“I guess the debt is paid then,” Anotin said rubbing sweat from his brow due to the near death experience.

“I guess so, old my dear friend,” Withomi said releasing a low chuckle through a closed mouth.” No more will Aroland, land of the high kings, be terrorized by the worm called Sinlon. And its slayer is no other than Anotin, heir to the throne of the Aroland Provence.”

Many crisp corpses littered the ground. The stench was horrendous. The surviving citizens and soldiers of Fort Knöte walked cautiously, so not to step on their fallen brethrens, towards the dead dragon of Aroland. Anotin walked over to he dead beast’s mouth. It was wide open and blood drenched. The dragon itself lay in a puddle of his own blood. The prince reached inside Sinlon’s mouth and pulled out his mighty red sword of power. Its reddened blade shone bright crimson in the morning’s first rays of light.

Withomi yelled next to Anotin, “Today, we have shown the world of dragons that we, men of Aroland are fiercer and stronger than they first thought. We men have proven to be strong enough to eliminate the putrid race of these crazed monsters. Never will they under estimate us again! We the men of Amündsál, have become the new power. Long live the kings, and long live our race. Tonight, we feast on dragon blood and meat!”

“Huzzah, Huzzah!” the soldiers yelled. They raised their weapons and started to hack the dragon into pieces.

“Tonight we shall have a grand Sigr blot,” Anotin said cleaning his blade with a torn piece from his red tunic.

Withomi walked next to Anotin, the prince was staring at the dragon. “Dragons are beautiful beasts.” Withomi nodded to this. “It’s hard to imagine a dragon fighting for the forces of good.”

“Magic is a powerful force on our world,” Withomi said looking into his red diamond. “A very dangerous force if wielded by the wrong mind. Only the gods are strong enough to tame magic.”

Anotin laughed, “Then you must a god.”

Withomi smiled looking into the gray eyed of Anotin, “Even I my young apprentice can not tame the power, even though I have had almost two hundred years of practice.”

“You know I must ask,” Anotin said. “Why? Why come to save and fight for Aroland when there are different matters for you to be dealt with? My father has been sending letters to you, calling for aid and assistance. My father and I assumed you dead for you did not respond. Where exactly did you go that you didn’t respond to my letters?

The mage of diamonds sighed, “Excuse me my dear friend and apprentice.” The mage raised his staff horizontally. “LJÓS BITA,” a lightning bolt sprang from the cloudless sky. The bolt plummeted into the dragon and sliced the beast into hundreds of pieces. “Now my friend, I will answer your queries. Let me proceed backwards.” The mage paced back and forth with his arms crossed. “I have been in many places since my departure, mainly all over Amündsál in search for the other mages such as myself. With the knowledge of these mages I have been able to put the pieces together to complete the puzzle, but I am only but a few pieces short. That is why Sasnoth has not been able to find me. Now this brings me to your first question.” Withomi stopped pacing and place a wrinkled hand on the mans shoulder, even though he was at least a head taller. “I have come here to complete the puzzle, the piece of Aroland, the piece of the red sword of power, and the piece of you Anotin. I have only one more trip that I must complete, and that trip is to the sunken city of Lorn. There is where the location of the last prophecy lays, a prophecy created by no other than the great mage Angora of Adrian. This prophecy involves you Anotin, and all bearers of the weapons of power.”

“Are you sure that the time has come, the time for the long foreseen Ragnarök,” Anotin shook his head in disbelief.

“Aye I do believe so. It all fits together. An army has risen from the dark land of Crŷpto. Its leader has gained alliances with lands that hold grudges against them. Soon enough the west will fall and the east must muster and army to counteract the invasion. The world that the three brothers created is falling apart in unfixable pieces.”

“You can not be sure of this master, the three year winter has not yet come upon us.” Anotin said looking curiously at the mage.

“you are right, but,” Withomi raised a finger in protest, “whose not to say that although the wars are upon in which brothers will slay each other, and the Fimbulvel will come near the end of Ragnarök. Or there is another theory; the mages before me were incorrect with their prophecy. The three year winter, Fimbulvel, could be an error in prediction, but then that becomes to sophisticated. Then one could say that all the predictions could be wrong.”

“True.” Anotin said, “But I highly doubt that Odín would’ve created mages to make wrong accusations. Maybe the three winter’s idea was just a notion, and abstract way of describing a continental catastrophe that isn’t directly a winter.”

“You bring up an interesting idea my young apprentice. I see my philosophies have changed the way that you think.”

There was a long pause between the two men. They both stared at the soldiers building spit fires for the fresh dragon meat.

Withomi broke the silence, “So tell me, what was in the contents of the letters Argoal sent me?”

Anotin frowned, “I do not know.”

Withomi stood facing the man with droopy yellow-green eyes that were filled with sorrow and sympathy. “This is why Aroland is in dire trouble. Listen close to me my apprentice, only three dragons remain; in the black marshes, in the kingdom of Tromdillion, and in the dark land of Crŷpto. These dragons will weaken our small armies. This is why Aroland is in trouble, don’t you see? The king of Aroland is in exile from the constant threats of assassination. Even the prince is unaware of the wars at stake. There are wars Anotin! Wars that promise to destroy your soon to be land.”

Anotin stated quickly “A battle with Farrows gap is not a war. The group of thieves are low in numbers and skilled fighters. We have allies; Island, the many tribes of Hipto, Airlone, and my own. I will willingly send my men into battle against their pathetic king, David the Brave.”

The army of Farrows gap may be small, but like Aroland they too have many allies. All of the Islandic people are attacking the Flunk woods and Tromdillion. Their army is as large as Aroland for all citizens are soldiers. They believe that their one god had created them to invade and conquer all of Amündsál. And Crŷpto is the leader of all of these attacks. I fear that that dark lord knows of the prophecies.

Dark lord? Anotin said raising an eyebrow, I though the dark lord of Crŷpto is centuries dead

Then there can only be two options. Either the dark lord has risen from the dead, or he passed his knowledge to a successor. The dark lord always has an apprentice. The mage of diamonds and the prince stood in long silence. The two looked at each other, neither portraying any emotion. Then Withomi looked at Anotin and responded to his question, yes my dear friend, Aroland will fall, unless I complete the prophecies puzzle and my plan is fulfilled. It will take some time and many lives, but I believe can be done.

The silver haired man unsheathed his sword and observed the glint from it. Doesn’t the magic have to be restored into these sacred of ancient weapons?

Yes dear Anotin, Withomi responded, but for now such explanations should and will be left for the council in Islengrad. For now and tonight, we feast. The mage smiled pointing at the large slabs of meat roasting on the fires across the destroyed city of fort Knöte.

Then feast we shall.

Anotin and the mage walked over to one of the fires and began their glorious feasting.

Anotin woke in the morning at the sound of a war horn. It took him a while to realize that it was a horn of Aroland. The sun was just rising, it was the only time that the Grelic River was visible from fort Knöte. The mage stood beside the prince talking to a short and stout figure. The short man sported a thick brown beard that went down to his bulging chest. His brown beard was covered in crystal tress that matched his long dingy hair which had been placed in a ponytail. He stood about four feet tall and weighed as much as Anotin. His armor consisted of iron chain mail and a gilded iron helm. His breeks were made as the same material as the sash that supported his double-bladed war ax, Grolmn leather.

Anotin listened secretly on the conversation as Oagle spoke to the mage. Abou´ time I found yee mage. I saw ta dragon fall dawn like a stone. I got ta impression tat ya left as soon as ta dragon had been slayed.

Of course not my beloved ax wielding friend! You are as important to me as food and water. The mage and dwarf laughed together. The sound was comforting to Anotin, a changed from the death screams of his friends that he heard the previous night.

Of course, Withomi said turning gesturing with his right hand and staff in left, many lives were saved because of this mans bravery and quick thinking.

Oagle reached out his hand and help the prince to his feet. Helo their mate. It’s an honor to be standin´ in front of ta prince of Aroland. He bowed while clutching the hand of Anotin in his two hands that were beefy and ring clad.

And who might you be? Anotin said raising his eyebrows while holding back a laugh at the dwarf kissing his single amber ring.

The dwarf rose and said proudly, I am Oagle, dwarf prince of the Járn Mountains.

Jarn? Anotin said, you come a long ways from the Iron Mountains

Aye, a long trip but definitely worth the hassle. The dwarf smiled briefly then faced the mage. Where’d be tat filty elf?

Withomi frowned. He shouldn’t have been far behind you. Last I heard he was in Austmakt, but that was only last morning.

That elf. Always late he is. Careless elves are, never in my life will I befriend such creatures.

Never my dear dwarf, Withomi said looking down at the dwarf, say never. Remember that it was said that the Mirado warriors could never die, yet their bones lies naked in the Armoil shrub land next to one hundred dragon skeletons.

The dwarf laughed, I can always count on yee to make for remarks of wisdom.

As the three stood in awkward silence starring at each other, the elf Cicerin walked next to the mage avoiding the dwarf.

The elf, Cicerin, stared at the remaining skeleton of Sinlon. I’m truly impressed. You dragon slayers manage to slay one of the most powerful worms, and without my help. Cicerin looked at his two companions, then at Anotin. Aaye mellon! Who be you, man?

I Anotin said unsheathing his mighty red blade of power, am Anotin, son of Argoal and heir to his throne. I am also the slayer of Sinlon, dragon o Aroland.

Well then Cicerin said smiling reaching for the forearm of the prince. Welcome. Welcome to our group, we are the heirs of mastery. And the name is a god given name. I see that you carry a weapon of power. If the magic wasn’t dead in these weapons I’d consider you a fraud.

Well, then I’m thankful for it. Soon enough ill be able to slay giants when the magic is restored.

Withomi coughed, drawing the attention of his companions towards him, remember my young apprentice, if you become too confident with your power you will fall victim to evil. May I remind you that the first dark lord of Crŷpto Crylko, was too impressed by his power, thus it over took him creating a mad man out of him.

But didn’t his power make him immortal? Anotin asked curiously.

First off Anotin, Withomi said shaking his head, you should not be striving for ultimate power, nor should you be interested in it. But since I’m kind I will answer your question with your word that you shall not mention any matters of the dark lord as long as I still live. Anotin shook his head in acknowledgement and look at Oagle whose head was bowed in boredom. Withomi continued, Crylko is not immortal, or better off to say was not immortal. We mages had a council in the year one-hundred and fifty-one. It was to understand the dealings with the land of Crŷp+to, we needed to know if the dark lord was planning on attacking or if he lay dead on a pyre and burning. We came to a conclusion that he had died, but one mage by the name of Conclek, brought up an idea that disputed with our decision. He said that the dark lord is so powerful that only his apprentice could kill him, thus making the dark lord immortal. So we came to a conclusion that there are always two of them, never more, never less. Always two. So yes, the mages of Crŷpto are so powerful that they are almost as strong as demons. The magic that flows through them is unlike that of you and I Anotin. Without the proper training one could die the first time that this demonic magic is wielded. Magic my dear Anotin, is a powerful force not meant for the weak minded. That is why you and I are special.

Anotin looked at the mage and smiled, so few of us there are. I worry for the fate of the magic wielders. I am not even pure mage. That is proof that we are dying out.

Do not fear Anotin. Soon there will be no need or us mages. Our deeds will be completed and Odín will call us back to Asgard that is, if there are any survivors left after the wars are done and won.

Oagle shifted, grabbing the reign’s to his Grolmn well ten, I tink it be best if we be off on the road. He stared at the scurrying men of fort Knöte. What be boterin these brave men.

Morgs, Cicerin said quickly. I spotted them on my way here. They were coming from the east.

Kammad-Fie, Withomi spat. He’s been tracking the dragon down for years. He claims he’s the mage of dragons, a title deserved for the one who is master of the ferocious beast. Now his plan is in succession.

He will send his armies into battle to destroy a great city of Aroland. A city that is true to the king.

Anotin said with a frown, and that city is my home city. We must stay and fight.

No! Withomi said. There are more important things to deal with than saving a city. The loss will be hard to acknowledge, but sacrifices must be made.

The prince walked away from Withomi in anger. He stopped and looked at the men of Aroland preparing for another battle surely all of them will die, fifty against five hundred. A line was being form with no cavalry. A lieutenant paced in front of the men in blue tunics. His red feather was half burnt.

Suddenly, the deep, low sound of an Aroland horn was sounded. The men shifted nervously watching the charging Morgs.

Werer surrounded. A scout shouted on the last remaining part of the wall, his bow raised at the oncoming enemies.

The elf, Cicerin, walled next to the prince of Aroland without a single sound. It appears we’ll have to vie a path through these retched creatures. The elf drew his bow with astonishing speed and aimed at a small crevice that was covered in shadow. I feel there presence. They are closer than the men think they are. Very clever Morgs are when it comes to killing and slaughter.

The dwarf stepped next to Anotin, with his grey shield and double bladed war ax of power. I don see anytin.

I said feel master dwarf, not see. Maybe you should pay more attention to what people say then your self. You could possibly learn something. Cicerin laughed, now that master dwarf, would be a miracle.

Oagle scowled and motion a head chopping at the elf. And Anotin laughed.

I feel it too Withomi said, they are smart, and a mage is among them.

Kammad-fie himself? Anotin suggested

I doubt it, the presence is weak. Maybe a son, or a Breton.

A half blood? Cicerin said. I thought the Bretons were against Kammad-fie for he destroyed their people and province,

Mind control my elvish friend, Withomi suggested. The leader of the Kazmad Morgs is a coward. He controls someone else to fight in his stead.

And for that I will kill the thing. Anotin said drawing his sword. It reflected the morning sunlight into the crevice revealing an arm.

A female in torn homespun clothing screamed. A guard ran over to her aid and she pointed into the crevice, the man walked over and itched his silver stubble chin. He walked away just as the girl screamed again. A Morg the size of two men jumped out with his scythe raised high the man turn and his blue tunic was stained red in his chest. The Morg tore the scythe free like a saber tooth, and threw his weapon at the girl. The girl stopped screaming as the scythe cut her head off. The blonde haired head fell off the tumbling body, and roll down a hill towards the line of soldiers. It leaned against a mans boot and he looked down. He lifted his foot in disgust and looked up the hill. An arrow came soaring through the air into the mans throat he screamed as his blood ran black with poison. He gurgled foam and fell limp

The dwarf growled. Let em come an taste me ax. Using poison is against me codes of honor.

Remember master dwarf Withomi said, Morgs have no honor and they have no codes, they just kill and murder.

The dwarf growled again and hoisted himself onto his Grolmn

Cicerin performed an impressive back flip over the six feet wide antlers of his stag, he landed perfectly on the stags back with his bow raised high. He fired at the Morg who exited the crevice as fast as lightning. The elf’s aim was true and the Morg soldier fell dead with a golden fletched arrow imbedded into his right eye.

The four looked over to the soldiers of fort Knöte.

Arrows! A sentry shouted before he fell dead with five arrows in his chest.

A cloud of arrows came rushing at the soldiers only a few were able to protect themselves with their shields before the onslaught.

Oagle raised his grey shield that bore the symbol of Járl, a hammer with a rime stone in the background. Cicerin nimbly dodged the arrow from atop his tall stag.

Withomi raised his staff towards the solders of fort Knöte, Heroskjold! The mage yelled. An explosion of blue erupted from his staff. The stream of blue shot and stopped directly above the soldiers, then blew up. A barrier suddenly started to seep around the soldiers, and in a matter of seconds the soldiers of Aroland were completely safe from the Morg arrows.

Withomi! Anotin yelled from behind a decorative blue shield that didn’t match his red armor. How must I escape, for neither you nor I have beast to ride upon.

Worry not for over the years I have become prestigious my fair prince, Withomi said with a face of concentration and gritted teeth. I have a spell that can do the trick

Anotin said lowering his shield, it seems that you have a trick for everything.

From the group of soldiers a voice yelled, they’re charging. Arm your selves with all that is salvageable from our wreckage.

Is there an escape? Anotin asked looking between the broken walls of fort Knöte and seeing Morgs surrounding the city. Fort Knöte is lost, the last true city of Aroland.

Aye, that it seems, Oagle the dwarf said with a sweaty brow.

Withomi released his arrow shield spell, but kept his staff raised. Koma dỳr! A bolt of gold and red shot up into the sky as quick and agile as lightning. The bolt exploded at the top and millions of pieces came falling to the ground, burning all that got in its way. Anotin looked around and saw a small object in the air. It came close enough for Anotin to realize that the beast had wings, and was carrying a horse with silver a silver coat. The dragon-like creature bobbed its head as it flew. The dragon-like creature landed next to Withomi and purred.

Isn’t she beautiful. Her name is Dyókja. We have been friends ever since I was a little boy in the Airlone desert.

The screams of retreating men shattered the moment. The Morgs were over taking the men. The four heirs of mastery were bombarded with Morgs swords and spears. Anotin mounted his silver stallion and beheaded a Morg. An eight foot tall Morg charged the prince of Aroland. He parried atop his horse. The prince twisted his sword in a horizontal position to release the parry. Anotin fallowed through with the maneuver with a forward slice, slicing the Morg in his unprotected neck.

Anotin looked forward at the man in front of him. He was in mid duel with a Morg with completely black armor and a shield made from the bottom jaw of a dragon. The man in a blue tunic dodged the Morgs down stroke with a simple side step that let the Morgs head completely open for a strike. The Arrorian took notice of this opportunity and back sliced the Morgs face. The giant black man stepped backward from shock, and then roared with anger. He thrusted his blade toward at the mans chest. The soldier of Aroland blocked. The power sent the man falling backwards into another Morgs spear.

Anotin’s nostrils flared with anger. Before he could charge at the two beasts, two axes met their chests. Anotin turned his steed in the direction where the axes had come from, he saw Oagle. The dwarf stared back with grief stricken eyes. The dwarf gestured with his head that they should be going. Anotin frowned and cleaved his blade through the Morg that challenged him.

He headed towards Withomi who had mounted onto his dragon-like’s saddle. His staff raised high above his head shouting blue bolts at any Morg that came close to him.

He said something to Anotin but the prince couldn’t understand him. Anotin tried to say something but he couldn’t. Fear over took him. Then Anotin realize that he couldn’t move. He tired to yell out to his master and teacher, but he was being over powered. Magic Anotin thought Kammad –Fie is using me as a lure to kill Withomi, the mage of dragons. Suddenly a foreign presence touched the prince’s mind. Anotin remembered from his teachings that someone had invaded his mind. He quickly thought of a counter attack. Geđ brenna, a mind burn. The spell worked, and the presence left Anotin. Anotin reigned his horse. Apparently he had drifted off to the outer boundaries of fort Knöte, beyond the destroyed protective walls. He looked around in wonder why the Morgs had not touched him. All the Morgs had entered into the city. Suddenly the presence touched his mind again. He paid littler heed to the foreign presence. He allowed the person to invade his mind but not control his body. Anotin ordered his horse forward into the fog. His head swiveled from left to right like a crazed and trapped animal. The voice in his head was barely audible.

Come closer, closer, closer.

Anotin walked further into the fog. He heard a voice from behind but ignored the indecipherable words.

I’ve been waiting for you prince. The voice hissed inside of Anotins head.

Who are you? Anotin said aloud

I am your most feared enemy

The dark lord?

No but close. I am his apprentice.

What do you want from me?

I want your sword Anotin. And you needn’t fear that you’d be handing it over to a stranger. We are related Anotin. We are family, and family help each other out in times of need.

Why do you need my ruby sword of power?

I need it to save the world in which you live in. it is prophecy Anotin. And I must create a deterrent to stop that prophecy from coming true.

Go away! You are evil. I want nothing to do of evil.

The voice made a sound that sounded like laughter to Anotin I am not evil Anotin. I wield the evil forces of magic, but that doesn’t make me evil.

Yes it does!

No, Anotin. That mage of diamonds has corrupted your mind. He has trained you to use his magic and do what he thinks is good, so to make my point you must understand that he is using you, not teaching you. He is not giving the choice on how you use your magic and which ways you can wield it.

Withomi is a good teacher! You are the one who is corrupt, you are evil. You want only death and misery! You must die!

Anotin used all of his remaining energy and focused it towards the presence in his mind. His head started to burn. It felt as though it was exploding and on fire. The pain was numbing and too much for the princes magic abilities. He tumbled from his horse and fell into the mud that the afternoon’s rain brought. The last thing that Anotin heard was a voice yelling his name from a far off distant part of the fog, the clash of steel weapons, and the whoosh of an arrow. The burst of lightning was blinding and a magic burst of red blackened the prince’s sight as he fell unconscious and into oblivion.

The dark lord that will end our time on Midgard was once a king to be for a mighty province in Amündsál.

-Lord Crylko of Crŷpto

Year 72 Crŷpto sagas