The Omen

He stood toe to toe with the monolithic reptile, it coiled about the massive rocks and drew back its head. Eoin could see the fire building in the back of the dragon's throat and ducked for cover behind a stone outcropping as the beast unleashed its immolating breath in a great cloud. He could feel his skin blistering as his clothing burst into flames. Rolling upon the ground to extinguish the flames he felt a great shadow blanket him. He looked up to see the wurm's great maw coming down upon him. In a futile gesture he held up his blackened hand as the teeth ripped into his flesh.

Eoin's eyes snapped open as he quickly sat up, his heart pounding in his chest and sweat pouring down his face. He took note of his surroundings and realized he had been dreaming. Dreams like this worried Eoin, they were omens of impending danger. He sat by his fire pit tossed on some wood and stirred the coals bringing it back to life. He watched as the thick smoke rose, looking for portents of the future in the wisps that swirled in the soft valley wind. He stared deep into the soft clouds of smoke until the fire began to die down and the smoke became to thin to read. Visions of dragons always foretold danger and turmoil, but the fire had given him no insight into his premonition. Discouraged by his ineffective augury, Eoin went back to his preparations for the trip home.

The distant sound of crashing hooves brought Eoin to alert. He stepped away from his work,  grabbed his spear, and  focused on the distant bend downstream. The thunderous charge became louder and within moment Eoin spied the source, a half-dozen horsemen came charging around the outcropping of trees and headed straight for his position. He was not sure what they wanted but they wore the crimson attire of imperial soldiers. He did not balk at their approach, he stood erect but not threatening. As the host drew closer to his camp he noticed their unit crest, a coiled crimson dragon on a circular white field. He paused for a moment, dancing through his mind was a question if this was the danger his dream had foretold. The horsemen slowed as they approached, looking about perhaps wondering if this man was alone or there were enemies amongst the trees. The leader of the group, a middle aged man with a graying beard,  rode with a slow cautious walk up to Eoin.

"Are you alone?" The soldier inquired.

Eoin decided to keep his answers very brief, "Yes I am."

"Gather your things boy," he barked, "by order of the Empress all able men of the Empire are conscripted for service in the second army."

Eoin grimaced at the news, he knew he had no choice in the matter, if he refused the Empress would have his village leveled, she endured no dissent in the empire. "I will do as the Empress commands."

The soldier turned his horse around and called back to him, "You have three days to report to Citadel boy, you best get moving." With that the men gathered up and broke into a heavy charge upriver. Eoin watched as the men rode off pondering the fate of his family and friends if he were to disobey. The thought quickly passed from his head and he went about packing his gear and set out toward the Citadel.

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