Rone Blackpool remembers...
...He was in the snow up to his waist, trying to push forward towards a stone outcropping some dozen feet away. Snow fell from the sky, cold and uncaring. He was cold, colder than he had ever been. He just needed to reach the stone. He was exhausted and bleeding, and only needed to get to the stone up ahead. He pushed onward leaving a trail of blood behind him that anyone could follow. He did not care about anything except getting back to the fortress of the barbarians, where 'she' is. The image of 'her' held him, had him going forward, against all odds of surviving.
He would not make it. He lost too much blood, the cold had frozen up the wound in his side. But, he had lost too much, he wasn’t going to reach the stone marker.
Rone fell forward, losing consciousness, but reaching his arm out as his face hit the snow..
His hand touched the stone.
As he was going into blackness, he heard voices all around him. The barbarians, they were upon him. Then blackness.
Hazy red and black clouds billowed in his dream, surrounding him in the dream haze.
Slowly, he was able to see.
Rone stood staring at the immense form of the white wyrm, Coldrake, the Icing Death. He had found the snow dragon.
The wealth of coins, gems and jewels it slept upon was quite immense and worth hundreds of thousands.
Like a striking serpent, the dragon's head lifted, turned and went forward to bite the human with razor sharp teeth as large as Ronewas tall.
The Dragonslayer brought up Tyntagyl, the dracobane spear. As the dragon's jaws closed, the dracobane spear biting into its blue, icy tongue.
Immediately, the giant wyrm pulled back with a roar of pain. The bulk of the dragon shifting up onto all fours, its head rising into the air on a long, icy-scaled neck. Eyes as yellow as carrion glared down at the intruder in its lair.
"Who are you, manling, to enter a place you are unwelcome in?" Asked the wyrm.
"I am your death, Coldrake. I am the Dragonslayer." Rone said, the dragon's eyes widening in surprise. But, it quickly recovered,drawing in an enormous breath. Rone pulled back his arm and threw Tyntagyl at the underside of the dragons neck.
The spear slid through its scales like they had only been paper. It sunk in deeply. Blood, the color of the icy sea, spewed forth coldly, covering the floor of lair in its icy slickness.
The wyrm bellowed in agony shaking its long neck trying to dislodge the terrible pain lodged there.
Rone unsheathed his enchanted katana, moving forward only to slip and fall in the wyrms blood. The dragon retreated, its wings beating sending gouts of wind, coins, and gems spraying in every direction. Rone was on his back, the debris flying over him. His katana had slipped from his grasp, and he was struggling on his knees to get to that blade.
A huge white scaled tail smashed down onto the warrior, a glancing blow, but sending Rone sliding away from his sword in the slippery blood. Roars of pain issuing from the wyrm, it could not dislodge the spear. It tried to grab the shaft with its front claws but could not grasp hold.
The dragon began shrieking in fear. The spear was eating its essence, devouring its soul. The wyrm began panicking, its tail slamming the ground and against the chambers walls. Its graceful white wings began to flutter, bringing cold, hard air down onto Rone.
The Dragonslayer managed to grab his dropped katana and roll out of the way of the tail slamming down at him once again. In turn, the BladeMaster struck that tail, the enchanted katana slicing through dragon scales, not easily, but it had hurt the wyrm.
The wyrm wailed out in horror one final time, then the noise ceased. The massive body of Coldrake the Icing Death toppled over. Rone tried leaping out of its way, but his feet slipped out from under him; though, his momentum carried him sliding out of harms way.
The entire chamber felt the dragons death fall. Icicles and stalactites began raining down from above. Rone looked up to see a giant icicle, its sharp point falling right at him. As its point grazed his shoulder but tore open his side, crimson washed over his eyes, taking him into a mist of the crimson fluid.
Rone felt no pain. He was floating in the quagmire of his dreams.
Rone was suddenly standing before the Adamantite of the Icesha Glacialdom sitting on his frozen throne. The King of the Barbarians of Icesha.
Rone stood there, bleeding, but in one upraised hand he held the head of Coldrake the Icing Death. The barbarian leader on the throne nodded to Rone with a smile.
He had given his consent. Rone could marry Bradamantay, Princess of Icesha.
Then he passed out from his wounds.
Спасибо за чтение!
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