In the darkest corner of the world, in the country of Screallion, a dark hall lurked, with a great throne in the center. On the throne, was a very large creature, as tall as two men. It’s eyes were as fire, and a great club lay at his feet. Dark was his armor, dark was his crown, and Sucron was his name, for it meant Pure Evil in ancient tongues.
A lone man approached him. Fat, and visibly terrified of Sucron, he trembled in the light of the eyes. “T-The boy was too fast, m-my lord. He got away on his d-dragon.”
Sucron’s eyes flared. His voice thundered through the hall. “You had fifteen fire dragons at your disposal!”
“But my lord, the dragon was a forest dragon! He must have had some speed dragon blood in him as well!”
“They will pay for it. I will get the boy, with or without your help!” With the words “without your help” Sucron seized his club, stood up, and advanced.
“I will n-not fail you ag-gain, my l-liege!” The man pleaded desperately with the approaching menace.
“Oh, I know you won’t.” Sucron swiped his club and the person wasn’t there. He was on the wall, dead and in pieces. Hundreds of rats converged on the body, and before long it was just bones. The last of the Elite Assassins had died. Grogs from underground caverns and nicks in the walls hooted and yelled and hissed. Sucron wanted revenge.
And he was going for blood.
Cedrik crept out of the forest, his muscles tense. The sun had set, and he was getting tired. He looked around, then relaxed. The dragons had given up their search.
"You can come out now. They are gone." Cedrik said. There was a rustle in the trees, and then Grere stepped out. He stretched his legs, and craned his neck forward.
"Do we have to find out why no one opened the door?”
“But it could be dangerous.”
He cocked his head at Grere. “You just wanted to fight all fifteen dragons at once. Now you are afraid of a house that could have nothing in it?”
Grere put on a cheesy smile that could have scared anything or anyone half to death. Thankfully, Cedrik was used to it.
He ran to the farmhouse, picked up a nearby rock, and smashed it into one of the windows. He made sure there were no glass fragments hanging, and climbed through. He then tumbled to the floor on top of some glass fragments.
The house was in shambles, pieces of the ceiling were hanging, and timbers were showing underneath. The wood floor was a mess, with food all over it. Some very fat, black mice were eating happily.
He walked into the bedroom, and saw a crystal. Strangely, it was intact. “Why didn’t they destroy this?” He wondered out loud, and picked it up. The crystal lit up, and Cedrik’s eyes widened. On the surface was scratched a short message: I’ve been taken.
Cedrik mentally leapt to his feet, dropped the crystal, ran to the window, and tumbled through it. He found that Grere was ready to fly.
"Did you hear that? It's already in the evening. We have to move if we want to find him."
Cedrik climbed up his dragon.
“You aren’t tired yet?”
“You kidding? I could fly for miles.” Grere flapped his wings once, and was immediately in the air and climbing fast. Cedrik urged him to fly faster to the north.
* * *
Hours later, Cedrik was asleep on the ground next to a glow rock. The place was on the edge of the tree line, the massive fortress was about half a mile away. His dragon was snoring rather loudly, a few yards away on the other side of the fire. Grere woke up, then quietly woke up Cedrik.
It was about midnight, the perfect time for trying to break Ben free, which neither of them had tried before. A few hours ago, Cedrik was studying every detail of the huge fort, and had gotten the information he needed from a soldier, captured, and forced to tell them where and what to do.
Cedrik hopped onto Grere, checked the bound man, and both were thankful for no moon. Grere started his fast run, for flying was useless in the dark with the stars to show them. When they got to the wall, Cedrik brought his sword out, careful for it not to glimmer.
A soldier walked on the wall above them, and they both pressed their backs against it, Grere rather awkwardly. When he turned away, Grere hopped up and quickly disposed of the soldier by flicking him off the wall silently. He pulled Cedrik up, and they cut into the wooden flooring. Grere lowered Cedrik into the room, Cedrik disabled another soldier in just the right place, and he cut through another wood floor.
He saw Grere jump down to the grass outside. "Wait there. I'll tell you when we will get back."
Cedrik opened the door that led to the dungeons. He went down a corridor, down a stairway, and was met with several prisoners in cells with bars of iron.
"Who in this room is Ben?" Cedrik whispered. He was met with false acclamations.
"I'm Ben!" One prisoner said.
"No, I am!" Another exclaimed.
"What are you all talking about? I am!" Said another.
"I am!" another person argued.
"Quiet!" Cedrik hissed through his teeth. He had an idea. "Who was Gunter Penning?" He whispered.
"Uh… My uncle!"
"My Mouse!" One frail prisoner said while holding up a dead brown mouse. Other prisoners looked at him in disgust. An old man came to the edge of his cell. He was old, probably around fifty. A beard and part of a hood covered his face.
"He was your father, Cedrik. You look too much like your father to be a coincidence. Now how do you plan to get me out of here? The next guard to come inspecting is in around ten minutes. After that, he'll sound the alarm."
Cedrik broke the lock with his sword, and then flung the door aside. He grabbed Ben and ran toward the door.
"Grere, check the guard’s minds. Is there any way out of the prison besides running directly to the guards?”
“No. You are going to have to kill the soldier.”
Cedrik cringed. He had never killed someone before, and he certainly didn't want this to be his first.
"Well at least knock him out." Grere said with disgust.
He turned toward the prison entrance, brandished his sword, and waited. He counted to six hundred, and then tensed his muscles. A young man walked in. Cedrik hit the unknowing soldier on the head with the flat of his blade and passed him as he fell down.
With Ben following close behind, they slowly exited the prison area on tiptoes, careful not to disturb the other men outside. He slipped out and readied himself. He found he was staring at twenty men, with their weapons ready.
"Put your weapon down, boy." The leader said—for it was apparently the leader—and Cedrik dropped his weapon. He put his hands up when the men put points of swords next to him. Ben put his hands up, and apparently wasn't worried.
"Not again. I was beginning to think that I would be rescued by a fourteen year old boy." Ben said, shaking his head. The last thing Cedrik heard was a loud clank, and realized too late that the pommel of a sword had slammed onto his head.
Stay tuned for chapter 3!