The doors to the top of the mage’s tower crashed open as the Swordmaster of Hoeth fell through them.
“Aledraan. For a High Elf, you display as much natural grace as a drunken mule” responded the Dragon Prince.
“Prince Kildarin, I apologise for disturbing your meditation, but I have news of the most urgent order.” The Swordmaster had spent several hundred years wielding double-handed weapons whilst wearing a full suit of chainmail. So for him to have beads of sweat dripping from his brow, his haste with bounding up the towers step must have been a frenetic one. The Dragon Prince glanced over towards the elven mage in the centre of the room and saw that the magister still had not interrupted his meditation.
“What is it, Swordmaster?” asked the Dragon Prince.
“Prince Kildarin, it is Zoriath. He has awoken!” Aledraan exclaimed.
“Zoriath? My attuned dragon?” asked Kildarin ...read more