Wednesday, December 14, 2011

Tales from the Field of Triumph

Deep within the inner halls came a dragon’s roar; deep and ferocious, the sound was like a mountainous avalanche combined with dire cries of one-thousand terrified individuals. The helpless prisoners were starting to become agitated; no one wanted to be locked up to become a sacrifice to placate the beast.  

Chaos erupted as every sentry, beast master and keymen dropped whatever they were holding and fled in wide-eyed panic. One such individual patrolling the hall delegated to political prisoners, dropped his keys in fright and fled for in the city hoping to find refuge. Belgora Agundar stood in his cell and observed the keys lying on the flagstone floor, just out of reach. Belgroa was nothing if not resourceful and started fashioning something to capture the keys. Swinging his make-shift instrument to bring the keys within reach, he saw he wasn’t the only one who was working toward their freedom now that their captors have decided to take the rest of the day off.

All around him captives, guards and gladiators alike were racing to the exits, heedless of each other. Belgora drew his instrument in for another attempt when an individual fell hard on his face and was trampled to death upon the keys that would have meant his freedom. Belgora screamed in outrage.

It did not take long before Belgora found himself alone, no not alone- across the narrow hall that separated the rows of cells was Killian, a member of Belgora’s Order of the Black Sword; he looked too frightened to act on either of their behalves. Belgora sighed as he collapsed in on his cot; the dragon would come, consume he and Killian, and that would be it.

From down the passage came voices, female voices- how odd he thought.

He called out, “Hello? Help us!”

From the darkness came what looked like a blonde angel; young and beautiful, who looked at him with curious eyes that penetrated his very being, bearing a charm unlike any Belgora could have imagined.

“Keys…” Belgora found it difficult to speak in the presence of such stifling beauty. “…under the guard, I am no enemy to you- release me.” He shook with anticipation, like a drunk needing a drink.

The beautiful girl hunkered down and rolled the body of the dead Brokengulf aside; hesitantly retrieved the keys; and unlocked the cell door. She stood aside, but didn’t speak allowing him room to enter the hall.

“Thank you!” was all he could say as he strode to the opposite cell to free Killian. Before he could request the name of the girl she was gone; like a dream. Belgora had similar ideas, he needed to be gone as well. He prodded Killian along; somewhere was his Black Sword, the symbol of his tet and he was not leaving until it was once again his.

1 comment:

robm1171 said...

Bordane: YES! Uncle Belgorah's alive. May be time to refasten familial ties