The gathering darkness Essay
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Twenty years of gathering darkness had passed as one by one countries belonging to the Elves had fallen to the Pravus and their Lord. Now Pern was the only light left in the darkness, and Jaxom feared that today that light might be extinguished like so many others. With that thought Draak turned gracefully, serpentine tail coiling majestically. For a fraction of a second the powerful beast hung motionless in mid-air before plunging downwards. Tucking his wings back tightly, Draak plummeted into the clouds, bursting through them with tremendous velocity.
Directly below the creature an immense black shape.
As one Draak and Jaxom screamed a challenge, their cries indistinguishable. In shock the gleaming black dragon beneath them rolled to the side desperately, almost throwing its rider from the ornate saddle. A roaring burst of flame erupted from Draak’s gullet, rolling over the black dragon’s torso, which blistered under the furnace like heat. Jaxom’s glowing lance descended towards the Pravus rider, a menacing figure enclosed within black plated armour. The Pravus twisted in his saddle away from the lance, swinging his shield up to knock the glowing weapon aside.
With a slight rotation of his wrist, Jaxom changed his aim towards the centre of the shield. The glowing weapon punched straight through the emblazoned shield, tearing through the metal and sinking deeply into the Pravus’s shoulder. The lance tip tore through the dark armour pushing through the Pravus’s flesh and smashing out the other side. The Pravus mealy laughed spitting blood into Jaxom’s face, his grey eyes burning coldly with hatred. The two dragons clashed in mid-air, Draak scoring great gouges in his foe’s side with his vicious claws.
Its cry echoed through the heavens, in reply it snapped its huge jaws at Jaxom’s stead. The dragons and riders began tumbling towards the battlefield below, picking up speed as the entangled combatants struggled. Releasing his grip on his lance, Jaxom drew his sword in a single swift movement, striking towards the Pravus rider. With the lance still embedded in his shoulder, the Pravus parried Jaxom’s attacks with considerable skill as they tumbled ever closer to the plain. The immense dragons slashed at each other with huge taloned claws, and struggled to latch onto each other’s necks with their formidable jaws.
As the ground raced to meet them, the two dragons kicked away from each other, and their decent halted. As they pulled away, Jaxom grabbed his lance with his left hand, wrenching it from the Pravus’s shoulder as the two dragons separated. The Pravus gritted his teeth against the fresh wave of pain. They swung low over the battlefield, turning to face each other. Crimson blood dripped from vicious wounds, mingling with the rain and falling upon the armies below. Jaxom glanced down, seeing hundreds of faces turned upwards to witness the mighty duel above their heads.
Billowing green smoke drifted from the black dragons flared nostrils as it glared in hatred at its rival. With a tremendous bellow the two dragons once again raced through the darkening sky towards each other. As the creatures neared, Jaxom locked his gaze onto the black dragon’s eyes, whispering into the creature’s twisted, evil mind. As the mighty leviathans closed on each other, a look of fear suddenly passed over the black dragon’s eyes, and it flinched away from the gaze of the dragon rider. That slight movement was enough to unbalance the Pravus and, taking advantage of the opportunity, Draak surged forwards.
With a shout, Jaxom plunged his glowing lance deep into the neck of the black dragon. Writhing in the air uncontrollably, it began its head from side to side. Poisonous green smoke poured forth from the mortal wound, and a horrid gurgling sound erupted from the fatally wounded beast. The dragon’s rider looked around in terror, screaming curses. With an explosive beat of his wings, Draak pushed away from the crippled dragon, which had already begun to fall. Jaxom watched the dark shape plummet towards the ground, hurtling towards the ranks of Pravus surging over the plains below.
Raising his horn to his lips, Jaxom blew a strong, singular note that sounded over the plains, echoed by the cheers of thousands of his kinsman. “Cheer while you can! ” thought Jaxom “for many of you will not see the eventide. ” The battle had been ferocious, with both sides thirsty to spill the blood of their hated brethren. As the crimson rays of the setting sun bore down on the blood soaked plain many hours later, all that remained of the Pravus forces were the broken bodies of the dead. Elf and Pravus littered the battlefield and at the centre, standing triumphant on a mound of scorched bodies was Jaxom.
The price of victory had been high, many Elves had died at the hands of the Pravus, and all it seemed was for nothing. They had repulsed only the first wave of the enemy and that immense task had taken all their might! Despair filled Jaxom as he raised his head and screamed into the night. Mark Newell Show preview only The above preview is unformatted text This student written piece of work is one of many that can be found in our GCSE Joseph Conrad section.