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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/1067773
Rated: ASR · Book · Writing.Com · #2317180
Fire and Blood
#1067773 added April 6, 2024 at 3:36am
Restrictions: None
Dragons on High
Dragons on High

Daily Flash Ficton Entry for 4/6/2024
Daily Flash Fiction Challenge Open in new Window. (13+)
Enter your story of 300 words or less.
#896794 by Arakun the twisted raccoon Author IconMail Icon


Word Count: 299

Oberyn dragged the wooden skiff onto the sandy shore. Daylight had just tipped over the horizon. Lors secured the rope and hooked it through a metal ring on the boat. Then he tied it to the growing tree next to the shrubs on the shore.

“I can’t believe no one is here.” Oberyn placed his hands on his hips and glanced toward the stone steps that lead to the keep on Dragonstone.

“Stannis is gone.” Lors paused. “However, I’ve heard that dragons have been sighted over the Stone Drum.”

“Dragons? There’s a dragon lord?”

“Word is there’s a Targaryen in Meereen,” said Lors.

“Bah! That’s a rumor,” Oberyn scoffed. “Let’s go. We need the gold.” He pulled out a map from his pocket, studied it for a moment and pointed at the stone steps.

Lors blew out a long breath and they began their ascent. The first fifty stairs were easy for Oberyn. He was in great shape. The next fifty steps winded him. About halfway up the climb, there was a small courtyard. He spied a wooden door that led into what Oberyn supposed were the lower halls of the keep.

Lors’ nose twitched. “You smell that? Brimstone.”

Oberyn raised an eyebrow.

“Something’s in the air,” said Lors.

“It’s nothing. Let’s not lose focus. Morgan wants that gold.” Oberyn went to the wood door. It wiggled. He pushed his shoulder against it. The door creaked. Rusted iron hinges needed more incentive. Oberyn kicked the wood and it opened.

He peeked his head instead. The room stunk with brimstone. Goose bumps ripped down his arms. Two large eyes snapped open.

“What is it?” asked Lors.

“It’s a dragon! Let’s get out of here!” Oberyn sprinted for the stairs, Lors on his heals.


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Printed from https://writing.com/main/books/action/view/entry_id/1067773