Dragonhawk Chapter 1 Rewritten

Leah reviewed the first chapter of my dragonhawk story. She did a bunch of basic fixes like spellchecking and readability, but she also helped me do a rewrite of it. I think it sounds a lot better now.

The goal blazing through his mind as he approached the door to the final chamber. The end of his journey lay within that chamber and only his experience could carry him now. He treaded forward with heavy foot on the cold marble tile, gripping the glaive in hand. The guards at the end of the room saw him and were ready, but they were nothing to him. With nary a pause he charged forward at the first, ripping away his bulwark. The shield clanked on the floor and the Knight thrusted his glaive through the guards chest. The second guards swung his blade down at the knight, he was too quick. The knight twisted the blade out of the corpse and swept the rear end under the others legs causing him to fall heavily on the ground. The guard looks up to see the face of his aggressor only in time to see the glaive coming down on him before he was engulfed in the darkness of death. The knight pulled his weapon free from the body as their blood leaking on the polished ground. He moved inexorably forward.

He continued to his destination hardly breathing, his past exertions troubling him minimally. Among all he had sought, here lay his ultimate goal. He had spent much time preparing for this moment and all . He burst into the chamber, slowing his pace and eventually stopped before her. Unperturbed, she ordered her personal guard forward to face the best in the realm. They raised their swords and thrusted at him. Without hesitation he arced his glaive around his front knocking all of them to the ground with deep slashes across their chests.

His voice thundered through the halls as he called to her. “I have come for you! I have come to put an end to this!” His glaive leveled to her grinning face, irritatingly nonchalant. his opponent stood from her throne and stepped forward, full of assurance, knowingly of the victory already. He had bested her strongest guards with ease. How dare she believe herself to be invincible.

“Come now, boy. Do you really think you can just waltz into my home and challenge me?” she replied with malcontempt.

“I will end you and everything you have done!” He hardly heard himself, set only upon ending her evil in this world, even if he should meet it in the next.

She stepped forward. “I don’t you realize the powers you are dealing with. Where is your little friend?,” she questioned with a chuckle. “Did she lose her way as well?”

“Enough!” he shouts, and with fury he thrusts with his glaive, all his strength in the first blow, aimed at her. She deftly sidesteps it, barely exerting herself in dodging the blow, but he was ready and swung after her. Still she dodged, ducking under the blade and again he tried to follow her movements. Off balance, he struggled to control the unwieldy glaive. He glimpsed his doom out of the corner of his eye as he still defied fate and wrestled the glaive around. Her sword flashed. It was in her scabbard a moment ago, but now sheathed in his ribs and driving ever deeper into his body. He felt himself fall but all the more important was the searing pain in his chest of a burning sword driven through his heart. He screamed as he sight grew dim, struggling against the fate given to him…”

She kneeled over him holding the hilt of the crystalline blade in his chest looking into his eyes. “I’ll tell you now just as I have every time before. You cannot face me and you cannot stop me. Do not even try. You are worthless scum, not even fit to claim the title of a Dragon Knight.” She twisted the the blade deeper, wrenching his ribs apart. “When will you get this through your thick skull, Michael?”

He bolted up, screaming in agony. The room was dark, still a few hours until sunrise. He ran his hands over his chest, fearing to find her sword still embedded there, but it was gone as was the woman. His chest hurts and he rubs the phantom wound. “Another painful dream” he mumbles to himself. He attempts to go over the events in his mind, but much of it is already forgotten. He remembers the crests on the guard’s armor. The sword plunged into his chest was as real as the pain he could still feel. He recalls the womans face: her skin was dark with a purple tinge. Her hair was long and white, tucked behind her pointed ears. Her eyes were piercingly beautiful. He remembered her voice most of all. Though her words were threatening, he wouldn’t help but sense caring in her tone. Was she trying to protect him?

…What was her name?

Michael McElrath

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