chance. Someone as small as you might get their chest caved in.”
Darkfire, Tenlon thought.
“It’s my size that has helped me win so many races,” he pointed out. “And anyone could win on a horse like that. Have you ever seen the king up close?”
“This is the closest I’ve been to him. But my brother met him once, several years ago. He still talks about it.”
Graille was the same year as he and was planning to continue his studies with the mages in Iralic after the battle, intending to become full Magi: a warring mage. His older brother had served as a foot soldier for four years in the Amorian phalanxes before he was recruited for the cavalry last winter. Tenlon had become friends with Graille during their more youthful days in Iralic. He was smart and kind, and always well informed on the happenings of Amorian life.
“I believe the battle is beginning,” he said.
Almost as soon as Graille spoke, the entire Goridai Flats erupted in a cacophony of noise as the forces of Amoria screamed for battle. The air was alive with energy, like the moments heralding a lightning storm. The hairs at the back of his neck rose in response to the awesome sound of it all.
Tenlon could feel the ground beneath his feet tremble as the two armies began their marches. The fear he experienced earlier in the morning had returned and he felt the sudden need to empty his bowels; such was his dread at what was to come. He once more said a silent prayer for the young foot soldiers in the front lines.
The group of mage apprentices looked to the sky as the Amorian dragon fleet soared in formation towards the forces of the Volrathi. Tenlon’s heart lifted as he saw Draxakis leading the six other dragons towards the largest army ever assembled. He stared in fascination at the bronze dragon, pride of Amoria, his scales dancing in the afternoon sun.
Against the bright blue sky, the image of the dragon fleet flying overhead was one that Tenlon would not soon forget.
As he was admiring the fleet, young mages across the hillside began murmuring to each other in low tones. Tenlon looked around, wondering what all the commotion was about. He asked Graille, who just continued to stare into the distant forces of the Volrathi.
“It cannot be,” his friend muttered softly.
Tenlon followed his gaze toward the horizon and his eyes swept across the enemy ranks, spanning wide and terrifying. Cupping his hand, he squinted toward the distant army of the Volrathi but could barely discern what was occurring.
Several tiny specks began to float up from the enemy forces, then several more. It was the Volrathi dragon fleet, and they continued taking flight. Even from this distance Tenlon could tell that Amoria was not only severely outnumbered on the ground, but also in the sky.
“I had not known the Volrathi had a fleet of such size,” Graille said, the fear of his voice open.
“No one knew,” Tenlon told him. “Draxakis and the rest are greatly outnumbered. I counted over thirty, but we are some distance away, so I would guess their numbers are even larger than that.”
“What happens now?”
Tenlon’s gut felt as if it had been clubbed. His knees grew unsteady and he had to sit.
“We are not prepared for this battle,” he whispered.
Chapter 2
It was the longest and saddest day of Tenlon’s life. He watched Draxakis and the other dragons climb higher into the heavens, pitted against a vastly superior fleet. They soared upward until becoming only tiny, indistinguishable specks against a clouded blue canvas. The Volrathi dragons followed their enemy, and the battle for control of the sky began high above the watching eyes of man.
The two armies met on the distant flatland and Tenlon swore he could feel the collision. The initial clash of the battle was sheer horror to the young apprentice. Odd sounds carried to them on the wind: clashing of steel, solitary screams, and sometimes even worse…spans of