Gift of the Dragon
Iron Age Media, August 23 Prompt "Watch the fire!" Sir Nicholas screamed his command as loud as he could. Between the growl of the flames and the enclosure of his helmet, he had to roar to his companions. Too late, too quiet. A small band of men were incinerated by a blast of fire. The dragon's flame wrapped its way around stalagmites, wound through the air and, moments before it struck the ground, the orange-red ball of fire turned blistering white. The men at the point of impact evaporate. They are shadows for an instant and then, they are gone. Not even ashes remain. Those on the edges burst into flames, totally engulfed by the crackling flames, their howling agony drowned out by the shrieking conflagration that devoured them. No matter. The battle must be joined. The dragon had to be beaten. The warband knew their task, knew their purpose. This evil beast was to die this day, no matter the cost. But that was easier said than done. The heat was unbearable. The drag