Read Tales of the Lorekeepers 01 - Rise of the Red Dragon for Free Online Page B

you before, it is practically impossible to guarantee a win, but there are ways to tip the balance in our favor. For the moment, the Saxons are dictating the pace of this war, as well as its course. We are the ones fleeing and reacting to their every move. We must stop running, and should rather stand up before our enemies. If we use our wits and take advantage of the tools at our disposal, I firmly believe we can crush our foes.”
    “Indeed,” answered the king.
    Morghan took a large scroll from a shelf underneath the wooden table. He unrolled it to reveal a map of Britain.
    “To make an effective stand,” he said, “we need the perfect location to set up our defenses. It should be elevated and easily defendable, with a natural funnel, so the enemy’s army will be forced to a specific spot, exactly where we would want them. There, we can proceed to systematically slaughter them all, leaving only a few survivors, so they can run back to the others and tell the story of what happened.”
    The king joined his advisor at the table.
    “We will reach the hill of Dinas Ffaraon tomorrow, my lord,” continued Morghan.
    “Tomorrow we start fighting back,” replied the king.

    Later that evening, Morghan was back in his own tent, smaller than the king’s, but still quite large and richly decorated. He was going over the different reports and accounts of the location called Dinas Ffaraon, trying to figure out the best way to use the natural strengths of the area. At this late hour, the entire army was probably asleep, every man snoring away in his tent, but the old advisor had never been much of a sleeper himself. He often stayed up until late in the night to study different problems and ponder their possible solutions, enjoying the silence and solitude to gather his thoughts. These were the hours that Morghan looked forward to for most of the day.
    Lately, however, he had come to dread this time of the night.
    As he was reading the tale of a soldier, Morghan suddenly felt a cold shiver run up his spine. The temperature in the tent also seemed to drop abruptly and the fire, burning in the middle of the room, flickered wildly.
    The councilman raised his head and saw a dark figure standing a few feet away, looking back at him. Shaped like a tall man, the being wore a black, hooded robe that covered his entire body, like an infernal disciple of black wizardry. His face was shadowed within the hood, his eyes invisible. Likewise, his hands were concealed inside the robe’s sleeves and his feet were hidden from view, giving the impression that the figure was hovering, rather than walking.
    “Is the king still in agreement with your plan?” asked the man, his voice seemingly coming from the darkest pit of hell, like a growing tremor emerging from deep under the surface.
    “Yes, he is. You were right to point me to Dinas Ffaraon. It is a perfect location to make our final stand against the Saxons.”
    The hooded man moved a little closer to Morghan, who shrank back. It had been a week since the stranger had first come forth. He had approached the advisor on a moonless night, infiltrating his tent while the old man was sleeping, undetected by the guards. Morghan had initially thought the stranger was an assassin sent by the enemy, but the mysterious man had started to talk about the war and Vortigern. He had given the old advisor directions and suggestions on what to do next. So far, everything he had predicted had come to pass, and it was partly because of this dark figure that they had been able to flee from the Saxon’s army. They had even been able to put some distance between themselves and the enemy.
    However, Morghan did not know the true intentions of the black-hooded man, and that made him particularly anxious. What’s more, he could not even be sure that it was, in fact, a man standing before him. For all he knew, it could be a demon sent to doom them all, or a spirit assigned to guard over them.
    Still, no matter what