Shadow Of The Mountain by D.A. Stone Page A

frightened child. Which shall it be?”  Tenlon looked from Accostas to Desik, their twin gazes blocking him into an uncomfortable corner.
    “I’d like to walk,” he said lamely.
    “Good,” Desik answered.
    The two soldiers turned and began to leave, certain now that he’d follow. Tenlon gave a mystified look to Graille, who only shrugged his shoulders.
    Defeated, he followed them in a daze, feeling as if he were floating outside his body and watching himself move. He didn’t want to be an apprentice anymore and no longer wished to train dragons. Heavy thunder rumbled above and his body began to shake with so much fear that his teeth rattled.
    He wished to be anywhere but here and anyone but himself.
    ***
    His legs had to work frantically to keep pace with the two striding warriors, both of whom were moving with urgency. The thunder above the flats had not diminished and lightning periodically streaked across the sky, illuminating the massive cloud that had formed earlier.
    They made their way along a main path behind the Amorian camp. Hundreds of fires had been lit and men were sitting around in their armor, trying in vain to find some semblance of comfort amidst the shroud of battle and death.
    The three approached several large tents sparsely lit by torches. Tenlon asked if that was where they were taking him. The taller warrior spoke.
    “No. That’s not a place you would enjoy, I think.”
    As they came closer to the tents, Tenlon agreed with Accostas. It was certainly not a place he would enjoy.
    Screams of pain burst from the area, cutting through thunderclaps as the stench of blood and other foulness assaulted him. Outside the tents, torches cast a flickering glow against an endless line of dead soldiers wrapped in the coveted green cloaks of Amoria. A tent flap opened and two men in blood soaked leather aprons emerged carrying a body wrapped in green. They unceremoniously dropped the dead soldier on a nearby pile.
    Tenlon stopped walking and felt as if he might vomit. He knew there were more tents like this spread throughout their camp, hundreds maybe.
    “Come now, little mage,” Accostas said gently, pulling his arm. “This is not a place for reflection.”
    Tenlon hurriedly continued on, trying not to look at the long lines of dead soldiers they passed. There were so many.
    “Some of them are my age,” he said.
    “They fought well,” Accostas nodded. “Best not dwell on it. We shouldn’t have taken you this way, but it is the shortest route. I apologize.”
    After passing the surgery tents, they cut towards the front lines, weaving their way through campfires and sitting soldiers. Many of the men Tenlon saw were talking quietly, sharpening their short swords or splayed out across the grass to gaze up at the clouds. Some were eating and a few were even sleeping, snoring heavily into the night.
    You wouldn’t think that they had just lost their entire dragon fleet , Tenlon thought, or that they might all be dead in a matter of days .
    This battle was folly. Healianos must have known the size of the Volrathi force and that without help we could not stand. A head-on attack against such might was foolish and now the bloodline of Draxakis was dead. There would be no journey to Odenna for Tenlon, no more dragons to study. Their land would now slip into chaos and the violent storm cloud that thundered above would extend over the hills, reaching toward his homeland to bury it in darkness. Few men would be left to protect Amoria and certainly not enough to stop this terrible threat.
    After nearly half an hour, they approached an elaborate tent lined with torches, so massive that it could’ve held a city market beneath its canvas.
    Armed guards seemed to stop them every few paces, speaking quietly to Tenlon‘s escorts. Upon seeing Desik, all questions would cease and they’d be waved through.
    The Amorian standard of the bronze dragon fluttered above on high poles and more green-cloaked guards walked the