Claskan pushed toward the commotion his sword at the ready. His head ached only slightly. Individual guards seemed to pour into the hall from nowhere in particular in front of him. They could have been on a break, guarding prisoners, or something else, Claskan didn’t care. They seemed not to notice the dragon walking slowly toward the commotion as they ran.
The first dragon he ran his sword through, another red dragon if the symbol on his jerkin were to be believed, fell silently. The sword pulled slow and smooth from the dragon’s back as he fell to the ground. Blood dripped from the blade as Claskan skulked toward his next victim.
There were too few guards to believe that Ocelot had prepared them for the fight that was coming. Still the air in the castle was a sleepy discontent that spo
