MAGES OF SOUTHWICK: DRAGONS EGG

Chapter 2 p2

More howls rings into the night sky. Alred jumps up. Glancing around, they are getting closer. He scrambles to his feet, rushing to the east, knowing he must head this way to find the dragon.

He pushes the bushes out of his way, he stops dead in his tracks. A new thought raced through his mind, 'I'm still on a mission from the King!'

He knows he need to report back to the King. The Havricks have shown they have betrayed the Kingdom and were amassing an army. If he fails to report this, they can say he too has betrayed the Kingdom and his King.

He kicks the ground in front of him, his big toe catching a root from a large tree. Pain erupts, he jumps up and down cursing the tree.

He stands there as the pain dies down. Looking from east and north. One path leads to a dragon while the other leads to his duty. He slams his staff down, then walks forward.

"I need to find a place to sleep." He mutters. The fight raging in his mind. So unsure of which path he should follow. He curses again.

He sees a large tree ahead, he pulls a pair of daggers out of his cloak, as he walks to the tree. He rubs his hand across the bark, deep ruts gorged into its side, bark ripped away and regrown over time. He doesn't need light to know a elder stag roams these woods and this is his territory.

He twists the daggers around to hold them backwards, slamming them into the tree, he pulls his body upwards. The smooth bark letting his wrap his legs around the tree to make the climb easier. He's pretty sure this a Thunk Oak, one of the strongest trees in this part of the world.

He reaches the first branch, close to thirty feet in the air, high enough werewolves won't be able to jump the whole way up. He leans his body against the tree trunk, his eyelids growing heavy. He doesn't want to sleep, but his body needs it. The world fades away, he body slumps deeper into sleep.

"AHHH!" A high-pitched scream rips through the forest. Alred jumps, his hand hurry to grips the branch he's sitting on. The yips and snarls of the werewolves follow the scream. He can hear them smashing their way through the forest.

"Who in their right mind would be in this forest at night." He scans the forest floor; he can see the shadows racing through.

"A Kings Mage has a duty to protect the people." His heart thumps, he hates fighting werewolves. He slides the red fire crystal out to replace it with a brown earth crystal. Back in the day, the crystals use to be bigger and was a fixed atop the staff. So, mages could only use one element at a time. Now days most crystals can be broken down to the size of his thumb or even smaller.

He pulls a dagger out, stabbing the tree, he jumps off the branch. The daggers blade cutting down the length. He points his staff at the ground. The earth around the tree raises up, meeting his feet, it flattens out making a ramp, the roots creak as they get lifted into the air, he races down the ramp.

He weaves the best he can through the dark night. Low branches cut his face. His feet tripping over the roots and rocks in his path. He must remind himself, although he has the power to make a path, a mage should be wise with his power and not act a fool by destroying nature.

Fed up with tripping, he swaps his crystals, hold his staff up over his head. A golden -orange orb forms just above it. It launches in an arch just above the canopy, it burst into a bright light, shining down blow it.

Alred races forward. Diving and ducking with great speed as he races forward. He slides the fore crystal out and shove the earth one back in. He lets the staff scrape the ground as he rushes toward the pack off werewolves.

Clumps of earth jitter out of the ground, wrapping itself around Alreds staff. It presses and stretches itself, taking the form of a great sword. He chokes up the handle to better grip his sword.

He closes in on the closest werewolf. Swinging the great sword in a upper arc, he slams the blade down mid-stride. Slicing the werewolf in half. He sees the pack slow down, they trunk back, their eyes locked on him.

Their blood lust oozing off them. The rough hmph to their breathing, the drool dripping from them open mouths, their teeth on full display. Their dark fur blends into the still dark forest.

Alred bounces between the sets of eyes, he counts six, he'd killed number seven. This is a large pack; mages never grew packs this large. All the money and livestock it takes to feed such empty creatures' skimpy cost too much.

As they stalk forward, he can see a glimmer of metal hanging for their neck. These werewolves do belong to someone, and that someone is hunting him and down a d he just shot a flare high I to the sky for all to see.

Eyes for miles will see the orbs explosion, the bright light hovering in the night sky. A shining light house in the darkest storm, it's bright light rip through the darkness. Then guards on the towers of the Ivory wall report the sighting.

On the other side of the forest, Havricks men jump at the beacon they prey set off itself. Men rush forward, their boots bring a daunting eeriness to the dark forest.

This could turn to be good news for himself. If the Ivory-wall sees the flare they must report it. Cause it is either an enemy or an alley in trouble.

Alred shakes his head, letting the worries fade away. He grips his sword darting forward. The werewolves bare their teeth, they charge forward. He ducks under the first attackers leap for his throat. He twists his body in a three hundred-sixty turn, running his blade through at least two werewolves.

Jumping forward, Alred lands with a roll, springs off the ground, slamming the side of his blade I to the next werewolf they both fly back ten feet.

Alred scans, three werewolves' pace in front of him. He does a quick count in his head, he's killed three and three are there, where's the fourth one?

Pain erupts from his shoulder, the last werewolf lands on his back. Its sharp claws dig into his back and arms. He can feel jaws tighten down; his bone ready to snap. He sees the other three pounces forward.

He slams his sword into the ground, spikes emerge ripping two of the three charging him in half. The third one dodges, still charging forward.

Alred pulls a dagger out, shoving the blade into the werewolves' eye on his back. The beast releases, it hit the ground with a thud, thrashing around. Alred turns in time to catch the last werewolf.

They slide across the ground. The werewolf snapping its jaws towards his face. Spats of drool dripping down on to his face. It snaps again with a loud pop.

Alred clench his fist, punching the werewolf in the chest, a bright red ring glows bright in the impact. A red bolt erupts out the top of the werewolf. Burnt hair now fills the air. It's body collapse on top of Alred.

His heart slows down. He can feel the warm blood pooling under his back. Each of his limbs to weak to push the heavy body off him. He kicks his feet pushing himself out. The flare is still high in the sky, and he know he needs to escape.

As he slides out from under the werewolf, shouts of men running in the woods breaks the silence.

"Ugh. I don't want to move." He looks to the south, lanterns floating in the darkness. He bends over picking his staff up. He runs to the east.