Ashklon's Arc

Chapter 1 of 4

Ashklon wanted his name in every mouth on the planet. He wanted contracts, gold, and legend. So when the alarm bells rang inside the armored fortress where he lived, he grabbed the sword off his back and grinned. This was his chance to become famous. He ran through the fortress halls, past the glowing seams in the sleek metal walls. Guards fled the other way. One shouted that a fire breathing dragon had broken through the eastern gate and was going to kill the Queen. Ashklon did not slow down. A dragon meant a story. A story meant work. He found it in the throne hall. A black dragon crouched over the floor, wings scraping both walls. Fire leaked from its jaws and lit the whole room orange. Beneath its claw, pressed against the base of the throne, lay the ruler of this place. She was small, dressed in purple and black leather, she screamed for help. Ashklon drew the hammer from his hip. The dragon turned. Fire washed across the floor where he had stood a breath before. He rolled, came up, and swung the hammer into its skull. Bone cracked. The dragon roared and fell down dead. He stood over the body of the fallen beast, breathing hard, hammer in his hand. He had done it. He had killed a dragon and saved a ruler. By tomorrow, every merchant and warlord would know his name. The small ruler stepped out from the pillar. She smoothed her leather sleeves and looked at him with cold blue eyes. She did not thank him. "Thank you!” she said. Ashklon lowered his weapon. "It was nothing.” He said with a nod. Guards filled the doorway behind her, blades out. Ashklon simply watched.