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Lorcan

Lorcan’s day could not have gotten any worse. Truly.

It was bad enough that they had to jump into a chasm (again!!) and be faced with yet another monster (a flipping dragon of course because, you know, WHY NOT?!). But he certainly did not need – whatever this was.

There was a human before him – from his own world surprisingly – who decided that now was a brilliant time to proclaim his everlasting admiration and servitude towards Lorcan.

In more modern terms, he was basically a fan boy.

Lorcan’s mouth twisted as he spat, “Who in the blazing wastelands of Connacht are you?”

The boy blinked up at him, his mouth turning into an o shape. “He asked for my name,” he murmured. “Dear goodness – he wishes to know my name. What an honour!”

Lorcan wanted nothing more than to slam this idiot into the ground and pummel him – but well – Yila was watching him sympathetically. And – he didn’t excatly want to lose his cool in front of her. And not for this blasted eejit either.

Instead he pinned him with a murderous stare. “Answer my question.”

“Of course. Yes! I am Daire of the wonderful Kingdom of Mide my lord, son of-”

“Ah. So you are from my realm,” Lorcan said in a dull tone. “Aren’t I just so lucky.”

Daire’s eyes filled – actually filled – with tears of joy. “My lord – how you honour me with such kindess! I must confess I do not deserve such sentiments.”

“I agree,” Lorcan answered shortly and stepped away from him. He was already getting a headache from this blubbering idiot. He focused his attention on the dragon. He noticed that there were a group of bedraggled captives situated behind it.

Lorcan noticed how all his companions froze at the sight of them. As if they recognized these new people. Yila was being held by her brother. All the colour had drained from her face.

He stared at the captives, his gaze landing one such individual. He was crouched onto his knees, his bald head covered with patches of matted grey hair. His blood ran cold, though he wasn’t sure why.

He got his answer when the man looked up. Although – it wasn’t actually a man. His body was too big, his limbs too long, his head too bulky. His face –

Lorcan paled, his feet rooted to the spot as the deformed giant fixed him with his sightless gaze. His exposed eye was hauntingly milky white. And his other – was covered by a thick golden eye patch that covered half his face.

No. No this wasn’t real. This couldn’t be – he wasn’t seeing this. It was a dream. It had to be!

“Birugderc,” he said under his breath. “No. This can’t be true. You’re-”

This figure from his nightmares – he was supposed to be dead. Not – here. Lorcan’s fists trembled as his blades began to slid from his sleeves.

“Goodness! Are they all baddies? They certainly look like them!”

Lorcan was too shocked to glare at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Daire searched among the group curiously. “Where’s my enemy I wonder? I mean – not that I have any enemies – well maybe those dwarves but – I don’t think they wish me dead or anything, they just don’t like me-”

“Shut up,” Lorcan snapped, panic levels rising. Sweat was beading on his skin like nothing else he had ever helped before. He just couldn’t look away from – from that.

“Hm. This is very interesting,” Daire scratched his head through his ginger hair. “Am I my own enemy perhaps?”

“I think you most certainly are!” Lorcan barked. He desperately hoped Daire didn’t notice the terror flaring in his gaze.

As if things couldn’t get any worse – Yila in her terror threw a knife, aiming for one of the captives.

And the dragon sprang into action.