Captain appeared to be.
“Why you impudent cur,” said the Captain. His fist swung and Morden’s head snapped sideways with the force of it. The taste of blood filled his mouth. The Captain meantime had a firmer grip of the chain and pulled hard. The links gave and he held the pendant in front of him. The miniature gold dragon shone in the sunlight.
Off to Morden’s left a crow cawed.
Morden felt like he had lost a part of himself and then, slowly at first, but then like a burning torrent, pain spread from his chest and engulfed his body. His skin felt like it was tearing and swelling. There was enormous pressure and he fell forward. His clothes began to smoulder. He writhed in agony and screamed. The guards and Captain stepped away from him, and likewise the bandits; Stonearm tried to inch away from him.
Then something inside him let go and his body was no longer his own. His robe tore as his whole body grew, his limbs lengthened and his hands clenched as his fingers became talons. He looked in wonder as his skin turned black and scaled. From between his shoulders he felt something burst free and he felt like he had grown two extra arms.
Suddenly he exploded in size. His body popped into a new shape, one much bigger than his manly form. His senses filled his head. He could smell fear, hear a dozen terrified heartbeats, see the individual hairs rising on the necks of the men who cowered and then turned and fled. He drew in a breath and exhaled after them. A gush of fire rolled out and caught the fleeing men-at-arms, engulfing them in flame. They became burning screaming marionettes.
Morden was at once amazed and horrified and pleased.
He towered over those who had remained frozen in place. The Captain had his sword drawn and was taking slow steps backwards. The orc bandits grovelled in the dirt. Only Stonearm seemed unafraid. He had got to his feet and looked at Morden with a mixture of delight and pride.
Morden focussed his attention back on the Captain. “I did warn you,” he said.
“Take it. Here. Please,” said the Captain, throwing Morden’s pendant on the ground.
Morden’s talons were far too large to pick up the pendant. “Would you fetch that for me please, Stonearm,” said Morden, keeping his stare firmly on the Captain.
His inclination was to roast the man but it occurred to him that if he were to be taken seriously as a Dark Lord then some advertising would come in handy, and a man of standing such as the Captain would be better believed than the rank and file.
“I’m going to let you live, Captain, but for one reason only, and that is to spread the word. There is a Dark Lord rising.”
A mixture of relief, confusion and fear played across the man’s scarred face. “Let me live? Thank you. Thank you.” And then as the full impact of what Morden had said sunk in, “Dark Lord? Rising? But you’re a dragon.”
Morden sighed inwardly and shifted and became a man. He wasn’t sure quite how, it was instinctive, like breathing. Though man shaped he kept his skin black and armoured. He didn’t want to tempt fate if there was a man with a bow hidden somewhere. It also served to disguise his complete state of undress.
“Better?”
The Captain could only grunt a reply.
“Shoo, now,” said Morden, and he gave the man an encouraging glare.
Clearly astonished that he wasn’t being turned into a pot roast, the Captain gave a weak smile and fled. Those of his men that remained ran after him. As Morden watched them go he was dimly aware of his giant orc companion coming to his side.
“This is yours, my Lord,” said Stonearm, holding out the pendant.
Morden turned to look at his friend. His first thought was to tell the big lump that there was no need to address him as Lord, and was about to do so, when he understood something for the first time. He was going to be a Dark Lord and, no matter what, things would never be the same again.
He took the chain and passed it round his neck. With
“Why you impudent cur,” said the Captain. His fist swung and Morden’s head snapped sideways with the force of it. The taste of blood filled his mouth. The Captain meantime had a firmer grip of the chain and pulled hard. The links gave and he held the pendant in front of him. The miniature gold dragon shone in the sunlight.
Off to Morden’s left a crow cawed.
Morden felt like he had lost a part of himself and then, slowly at first, but then like a burning torrent, pain spread from his chest and engulfed his body. His skin felt like it was tearing and swelling. There was enormous pressure and he fell forward. His clothes began to smoulder. He writhed in agony and screamed. The guards and Captain stepped away from him, and likewise the bandits; Stonearm tried to inch away from him.
Then something inside him let go and his body was no longer his own. His robe tore as his whole body grew, his limbs lengthened and his hands clenched as his fingers became talons. He looked in wonder as his skin turned black and scaled. From between his shoulders he felt something burst free and he felt like he had grown two extra arms.
Suddenly he exploded in size. His body popped into a new shape, one much bigger than his manly form. His senses filled his head. He could smell fear, hear a dozen terrified heartbeats, see the individual hairs rising on the necks of the men who cowered and then turned and fled. He drew in a breath and exhaled after them. A gush of fire rolled out and caught the fleeing men-at-arms, engulfing them in flame. They became burning screaming marionettes.
Morden was at once amazed and horrified and pleased.
He towered over those who had remained frozen in place. The Captain had his sword drawn and was taking slow steps backwards. The orc bandits grovelled in the dirt. Only Stonearm seemed unafraid. He had got to his feet and looked at Morden with a mixture of delight and pride.
Morden focussed his attention back on the Captain. “I did warn you,” he said.
“Take it. Here. Please,” said the Captain, throwing Morden’s pendant on the ground.
Morden’s talons were far too large to pick up the pendant. “Would you fetch that for me please, Stonearm,” said Morden, keeping his stare firmly on the Captain.
His inclination was to roast the man but it occurred to him that if he were to be taken seriously as a Dark Lord then some advertising would come in handy, and a man of standing such as the Captain would be better believed than the rank and file.
“I’m going to let you live, Captain, but for one reason only, and that is to spread the word. There is a Dark Lord rising.”
A mixture of relief, confusion and fear played across the man’s scarred face. “Let me live? Thank you. Thank you.” And then as the full impact of what Morden had said sunk in, “Dark Lord? Rising? But you’re a dragon.”
Morden sighed inwardly and shifted and became a man. He wasn’t sure quite how, it was instinctive, like breathing. Though man shaped he kept his skin black and armoured. He didn’t want to tempt fate if there was a man with a bow hidden somewhere. It also served to disguise his complete state of undress.
“Better?”
The Captain could only grunt a reply.
“Shoo, now,” said Morden, and he gave the man an encouraging glare.
Clearly astonished that he wasn’t being turned into a pot roast, the Captain gave a weak smile and fled. Those of his men that remained ran after him. As Morden watched them go he was dimly aware of his giant orc companion coming to his side.
“This is yours, my Lord,” said Stonearm, holding out the pendant.
Morden turned to look at his friend. His first thought was to tell the big lump that there was no need to address him as Lord, and was about to do so, when he understood something for the first time. He was going to be a Dark Lord and, no matter what, things would never be the same again.
He took the chain and passed it round his neck. With
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