The Last Stand of Daronwy by Clint Talbert

exchange.
    â€œPerhaps we can ransom the villagers. What were the demands?”
    â€œNo demands were made, sir. It was a raiding party.”
    â€œPerhaps we should send a messenger—”
    â€œWe will go. If we take a dragon now we’ll get there by first light day after tomorrow. I only hope we won’t be too late,” Eaglewing said.
    â€œColonel Naranthor, stop your men!” Raaven said.
    â€œAdepts,” Naranthor said.
    Lightningbolt stopped. Eaglewing kept walking.
    Naranthor bowed to them both, “If you’re going, take my dragon. Godspeed.”
    â€œColonel Naranthor!” shouted Raaven.

    There was a knock on the door, then it opened, flooding the room with the scent of chocolate chip cookies. Mom said, “Rosalyn and I made some cookies, come and get them.”
    They followed her to the kitchen. Daniel said, “Do you want to watch Krull ?”
    â€œYeah!”
    They settled down on the living room floor in front of the couch with their plates of cookies and glasses of milk.
    â€œJeremy, get a tray for the two of you if you’re going to eat in there!”
    All settled, Jeremy hit play on the VCR. The movie began with the takeover of a world by aliens that arrived in a rock-like castle from some other place. They had watched the movie a hundred times, but would happily watch it a hundred more until the tape wore thin.

    Saturday dawned gray and cold. Shadows sulked beneath the low trees along Swamp Creek. Jeremy glanced at Daniel as they crept toward the black, rainbow-slicked water. It transformed into a moat before the ancient fortress of Dan’kir. The fortress throbbed with the energy of dark crystals, draining the brothers’ energy the closer they came to it.
    Eaglewing rubbed his temple. “All the dark crystals are eating my energy. They must have carted them in; I don’t remember so many in Dan’kir. I can’t fly over the moat.”
    â€œThey might know who we were if we did, anyway.”
    â€œLet’s play there’s two old helmets by the side of the road. We can put those on and look like little ogres.”
    â€œI’ll cast a diversion spell so that they don’t see us.”
    The pair crept along the slimy bank toward the open bridge. Members of the Black Tide stood guard, men who had decided to align themselves with Kronshar for whatever reason. Legions of Ogres and blue-skinned, reptilian wizards stomped across the ancient, bowed planks. Eaglewing pulled an oversized ogre helmet over his head and adopted the swaggering waddle of a small ogre. Lightningbolt did the same. His spell ensured that anyone who glanced at them saw only two ogres, nothing more.
    Kronshar had argued that he needed this old ruin to start a farming settlement. Hoping for peace, the Council had granted it to him. But there were no farmers here. Neat rows of horses were tied across one side of the crumbling plaza. Small canvas shelters had been erected along another wall. Men and ogres came and went with quick steps, wearing weapons and a sense of purpose. This was a military encampment.
    â€œWhere do you think they would be?” Eaglewing asked as they leaned against an unrecognizable ruin of a monument, half masked by a shadow.
    â€œBelow.”
    The strain of the spell worked against Lightningbolt. He was sliding toward the ground. Screams—human screams—pierced the night air. Lightningbolt jumped back to his feet. Eaglewing’s hand went to his sword hilt.
    â€œDon’t draw. You’ll call attention to us.”
    Eaglewing stared at his brother with hard eyes.
    â€œCome on.” Lightningbolt led him to an iron door guarded by a Raised Knight. He smelled foul, and stood with his gauntlets crossed over the hilt of his claymore. Eaglewing caught a glimpse of the power swirling about the suit of armor in the Shadow Realm, blinked, and it was again just a filthy, stinking suit. Slithering words floated on the