Prologue
The injured man coughed. Blood splattered to the dusty ground. The warriors had come in…as if from thin air…battle cries had filled the night, merging with the screams of women, babes and dying men. The warriors had laughed as they attacked, and that was a horrific thought.
A travel stained boot smashed through his thoughts, landing in front of his eyes. The injured man felt himself being softly turned over, and he saw a pair of blue eyes, as cold and deadly as ice.
"What has happened here," asked the massive, mountain of a man.
"Warriors…Khrryak warriors…"the man spluttered, "they came in all screaming... And we couldn't fight back…but we tried...they all tore into us, and ran to a cottage." He looked at the man in despair. "Am I dying?"
The big man looked over him, there was no point in scaring the man, but he has got a spear lodged in his spine and a gaping wound in his side, the innocent villager was at the point of no return. He then thought about what he had heard.
"Which cottage did they go to?" he asked. The villager shook his head and turned away from his piercing gaze.
"TELL ME!" roared the large man.
"It was your fathers home…they have taken him…I'm so sorry boy. He stopped and more blood protruded from his mouth. "I tried to get to him…he was my best friend, you know that…I'm sorry…please say you wont go after them? Please?" His head was sagging now, blood bubbling between his lips.
"I am going after them. But I will stay with you until the end." He replied, his voice barely above a whisper.
"They will kill you! Even you can't bring down an army boy!" The dying man sounded scared now.
"I know I can't…alone…but there is a way I can. But hush, let us watch the sun set, it will comfort you," This the big man said soothingly. But as he looked back at the frail man's face, he saw the man's head loll forward.
"Damn you…" he said gently laying the dead man on the floor.
Suddenly the corpse thrashed violently and the man's head came up again, but it was not the voice of the villager that spluttered from it. A harsh cackle arose from the lips.
"You know what they have done, don't you?" the body smiled. "They have awoken the dragon, and they will pay!"
"Who are you?" the man asked.
"I am Elewa, the sorceress, and I will watch over you on your journey."
"I have no time to ask why, but I will accept any aid I can. Welcome aboard Elewa."
"There is no time to delay…you must hurry and follow them!" Immediately, the big man stood up and brushed off the dust from his clothes. As he walked away he heard the body call out.
"This journey will change you! You will be the deadly killer once again by the close… that is…if you survive! AHAHAHA!" The body cackled.
The man turned and walked away and his reply was something Elewa would never forget.
"I will survive, because I am the greatest warrior in the land… I am Raznon.
The barmaid moved swiftly around the tightly packed pub, finally coming to a stop at a table near the back, which was very shadowed. There were about fifteen men sitting at the table, all playing a game of dice. The girl could see that the majority of the men were losing to four very skilled players, all sitting together at one side.
"Heya love, wanna get us a drink?" asked one of the winners, a massive man, with broad shoulders and a black beard.
"That is no way to talk to a beautiful girl," admonished another winner, sitting on the right of the big man, closest to the girl. This man was tall, handsome with golden hair, and a pearly white smile. He had beautiful blue eyes and spoke with an easy grace that made the girl blush.
He leaned back in his chair, and closed her hand around a golden coin and his room number, written on a piece of parchment. He winked at her and mouthed the words "12 o'clock."
"Now, what about those drinks?" she asked, pocketing the note and coin and blushing furiously. She took in all the orders, and then moved away.
"Ok so are you all ready to carry on losing?" asked the bearded man.
"You will be getting ready to die if you carry on talking like that you whoreson!" roared one man, who had already lost possession of his house and nearly all his possessions and money.
"It is not a good idea to talk to Jarvik like that, people who do, usually end up hurt" warned another winner, sitting on the far left of the bearded man. He was tall and was idly twirling a long throwing knife between his fingers.
"Yes and we don't want them hurt, do we Makrid?" Asked the other man sitting between Jarvik and the man known as Makrid. This man looked identical to Makrid, and it was obvious they were twins.
"The whoreson can try and hurt me, but he will have to get through this lot first!" yelled the angry man, and all eleven of the losing players, and even more people from just drinking in the bar stood up, and tensed for a fight.
"Oh dear," said the blonde man, known as Siabnon, looking extremely bored. "Can we try not to kill too many of them please?" he said, and he pulled a massive shining object from under the table, handing it to Jarvik. The twins, Makrid and Mastik both reached under the table and pulled up some long items.
The four stood up, and the room was suddenly silent as the angry thugs realised at what they had gotten themselves into. Siabon was holding several long throwing disks, and spiked stars, ready to launch. There was a large longbow grasped in Makrid's hand and two arrows were notched upon the string. Mastik was holding a long dark purple staff, with four sharp prongs sticking out of the end, each raised like a sharp cross with the arms facing upward. Then there was Jarvik holding the axe. It was a massive thing and was sharp enough to cut through even the strongest armour. As the thugs looked into these mens eyes they understood who they had picked fights with. These were the legendry warriors from the battle of Asvenstor Valley, these men, as well as another man, by the name of Raznon, had single handedly defeated the greatest army in the world...