The Demonslayer Chronicles I

The black dragon descended upon the alabaster towers of Argeon like the sinister shadow of death itself.  As if the darkness it brought with it was not herald enough, the beast let out a horrific roar announcing its malevolent intent to all that remained in the doomed city.  It swooped low above the rubble left in the wake of previous attacks.  Indeed, this was not the first time the dragon Mordraken had made its awful presence known in Argeon.  Many of the town’s once beautiful structures were now only smoldering ruins.  The king’s army had been depleted to a man in a series of vain attempts to bring an end to the dragon’s wrath.  The latest to attempt this impossible feat had been the king’s own brother, Sir Celluthias. 

Mordraken reared up before the ivory-colored towers of King Elluthian’s palace.  The beast’s massive flapping wings drove a strong acrid wind through the castle.  Serpentine eyes alight with malice scanned the ramparts for any sign of resistance, but no one dared confront the monster.  With no enemies in sight, the dragon opened its cavernous mouth, revealing teeth the size of grown men.  In an instant, the castle wall was bathed in orange flame.  The firestorm lasted for several seconds before the dragon finally relented and turned away, leaving blackened stone and the charred remains of the king’s once glorious standard as evidence of its might.  It left something else behind as well - the broken, lifeless body of Celluthias.

Celluthias was buried the following day.  The ceremony marked the end of a hero’s life, but it represented a far greater end as well - the end to any hope that might have remained for the people of Argeon.  The last of the kingdom’s great warriors having been laid low by the black dragon, it was now clear to even the most stalwart of citizens that it was time to abandon their cursed nation and build a new life for themselves in a land where monsters only existed in the dreams of children, if indeed such a place could be found.

But with a whisper came a spark to rekindle the flames of hope in the heart of the ill-fated king.

“A word in private, if it pleases Your Highness,” the Archbishop of Dunsborough spoke in an urgent tone.

“Faithful and pious Onthariel, the only thing that would please me now is the immediate death of this beast that plagues us,” King Elluthian said in a weary voice.

“And so you shall be pleased,” Onthariel said as he drew the king out of earshot of the other mourners.

“Forgive my disbelief, Your Eminence, but I find it difficult to see how that is possible,” the king said skeptically.

“I had a vision last night,” Onthariel explained.  “Now as I describe it to you, keep in mind that it was I who also had a vision predicting the coming of the dragon.”

“Yes, through tragedy your veracity has been well established,” the king conceded.  “Please, speak on.”

“Two strangers will come to our land,” the Archbishop continued.  “One man will save us from destruction...”

At this the king’s eyes lit up.  “When will he come?” he asked eagerly.

“Very soon,” Onthariel replied.  “But before your thoughts turn to rejoicing, I ask that you consider my vision in its entirety, for as I said, we will be visited by two men.”

“And what of this second man?” Elluthian asked.

“He will appear much like the first man," Onthariel explained, "but in truth he is far different.  He too will do great deeds, but he is a beguiler.  He will gain your confidence only to betray you.  The blood of innocents will stain his sword and the minds of noble men will fall victim to the contagion of his lies.  He is evil embodied - a demon in the guise of a man.”

“Is not our course of action clear then?” the king asked.  “Do we not simply embrace the first man and exile the second?”

“Oh, that it were so simple, Your Highness," Onthariel said.  "But alas, I was told only of two men and the nature of their character.  The terms first and second only refer to the order in which I chose to describe them to you.  In truth, the order of their arrival was not revealed to me.”

“Surely the man who slays the dragon is our savior,” the king deduced.

“Yes, if our salvation lies only in killing the dragon,” Onthariel said.  “However, consider the nature of the Deceiver.  He too will do great things, so much so that he will find great favor in your eyes.”

“Tell me, Onthariel, when all is said and done, will I make the right choice?"  Elluthian asked desperately.  "Will I choose the righteous man over the Deceiver?”

“I’m afraid it is not for me to answer that question,” Onthariel said grimly.