Thanks a lot world, for letting my baby dragons die.
Paul had drawn his own sword and was trying to fend off the soldiers. Demetri pulled out rhe magic one and slew one solders. A few of the others around him fell down dead.
Just then, some wulves decided to sho up at a bad time. Their scrawny, gray bodies slunk around a throng of people towards the fight on the docks.
“Uh-oh,” Demetri said. But as he prepared to fight the new enemy, he say a group of men arguing over something.
“Straks said not to.”
“But he’ll die if we don’t!”
“Straks’ll be grateful to us if we save his skin.”
They came to an agreement, drew their swords, and came to the rescue. Demetri almost forgot to pay attention to the danger all around him.
“Who are you?” Demetri asked one of them.
“Friends. Now don’t ask questions.”
Demetri obeyed, but after a while, he found himself backed to the edge of the pier, and the soldiers kept coming. There wasn’t any use trying to fight his way back to the strangers and Paul, so he jumped into the salty water. A soldier threw his spear, which jsut missed Demetri’s foot.
He plunged into the chilly water, swimming (hopefully) upward.
Ouch. There was a small boat directly above him. He reached up and grabbed the side of the small boat and pulled himself iin, almost tipping it over. Paul splashed into the water after him, severing the taut rope that held Demetri’s craft in the harbor.
Soon, both of the were sailing away in the small vessel, while the mysterious swordsmen continued to fight the soldiers.
The soldiers allowed the remaining strangers to escape, and instead focused their attention on the sailboat, which was nearly out of sight.
“Should we pursue them, sir?” a pike man asked his captain.
“No, they have no provisions, and there is a huge storm only a day away,” the captain replied with a sly smile. “It won’t be hard to find their wreck and retrieve the sword.”
King Arran was in an extremely foul mood.
“Haven’t you caught that nightmare of a tormentor yet?” he roared at the Captain of the Guard. By this, he meant a certain being called Terraxis.
“No, Sire,” the Captain replied carefully. “Terraxis isn’t quite human, making him hard to capture.”
“You’ve seen him?! You’ve seen him, yet you still failed to capture him and bring him to me?” Arran raged. “You’re demoted down to Captain of the Janitors now! Get out of here!” The king turned to sulk and brood on his bad luck, while Captain Straks of the Janitors exited the room quickly.
Reecus became the Captain of the Guard. Reecus was a lot meaner than Straks.
The next day, Straks was scrubbing a bloodstain off the roof when a large, black, winged wolf descended. The wolf was wearing a simple tunic, and carried an empty scabbard at his side.
The wolf folded his wings and asked, “Where are they now?”
“They were last seen by my spies, who say they are now sailing into a huge storm, in the direction of Tammycus.”
Terraxis, for that’s who it was, groaned. “No! Dragons live around Tammycus shores, feeding of the smaller sea dragons who dwell there. If they survive the storm, they will get into a scrape with some large dragon.”
He began pacing. “Any ideas?” he asked Straks. The janitor shook his head.