A Dragon's Menhir - Live Writing

Nate hit the cold dark marble floor as the two guards tossed him forward.  His hands were bound behind him, so he was unable to catch himself.  The throne room of Jesparian Nethandial was not a welcome place as he managed to pick his head up enough to look about.  The pillars, the floor and even the walls were lined with the same black stone.  The trimmings were all in blood red and the only brightness to the vast room was the crackling fire behind the dais.

Nate did not dare to pick up his head any higher to look upon that dais.  The only sound was the rustling of the two guards, the crackling of the fire, and his own labored breathing.  Fear made his heart pound as an additional sound was slowly added; a slow determined step.  The sound of boots slowly making their steps down from the dais above him till at last he could see the toes of them shining in the torch light just inches from his face.

"Raise him up." The command was curt and held no warmth.

Nate cried out as his hair was grabbed by one of the two guards and he was jerked to his knees. Despite being fully upright now, he kept his eyes down cast.  He wanted to give this man no reason to cause any further harm to him.

"Look at me boy."