Walking with Shadows

Garadaine opened his eyes slowly, finding himself back in an all too familiar setting. He was once again in the new growth forest deep in Yalmar. The same pine scent filled the air as a cool breeze blew over him. In fact, from the surrounding mountains he could tell he wasn’t more than an hour’s walk from the temple where they had encountered the young dragon. His comrades soon stood beside him in the forest as they too walked through the portal. Without any discussion, they began heading north.
In very little time they found themselves exactly where they had been only hours before. It was late in the day now. The lazy sun was beginning its fall from the sky, and the countryside was slowly turning a warm shade of yellow. Garadaine walked softly and slowly along the path toward the temple, not knowing where the dragon might be.

    As he edged his way into the clearing, he could see the cave’s entrance had been totally collapsed, the large stone dragon’s head of Tel’Karak Zrahl lying upon the ground. The young dragon was there, sleeping upon the large statue, its head resting upon the stone dragon’s snout. His sword was still lodged in the dragon’s shoulder, a trickle of blood flowing from the wound.
    As he crept closer the dragon jerked, wincing in pain. Garadaine froze where he was, watching the dragon closely.
    “Careful lad…” Gartgnar whispered.

    “Here,” Garadaine replied softly, handing his two handed sword to Cassrien, who cautiously took it.
    “Are you crazy??” Rillik whispered loudly.
    “If the dragon doesn’t view me as a threat,” Garadaine replied, “then I stand a better chance.”
    “Yeah, a better chance at getting killed!” Rillik replied.
    “Doesn’t look like you stand a chance no matter what you do,” Gartgnar snorted.
    Garadaine smirked, but his mouth fell back to a slight frown as he looked back at the dragon, which was now watching the man with one eye open. The young dragon was breathing heavily, and was obviously in a lot of pain. The growing pool of blood below the dragon’s left arm was now thick and irregular as it dried and coagulated. The scent of the beast was very strong, the smell of sulfur was almost overpowering. With every step the prince took forward, the young beast shifted a little, ever watchful. Garadaine knew at any time the dragon could snap at him, he had to be as slow and steady with his actions as he could.