Dragon Rider
Title: Dragon Rider
Rating: PG-13 (may vary later)
Summary: This is but one legend. The tale of a land in peril, a beautiful princess, an ugly devil and the bond between a boy and his steed.
Author's notes: This will be a fairly long story and I will try and update as often as possible, but as some already know I get very busy with my artwork. I've also done some art for this story, which can be foundon my deviantart account.Fanart is always welcome :D
"Every good story has a beginning and an end. But every legendary story has the ability to transcend this restriction, to become the eternal tale." - Sage of Light
Prologue.
Thud. Thud. Drip.
The rhythm of his heart drummed, as his soft footsteps echoed through the hollow space of the empty cavern. His hands guided him deeper into the darkness, exploring the rough and ancient walls which guided him along the hidden path. Beads of sweat hung on his forehead, waiting to fall as his trepidation grew with each crunch of gravel beneath his feet.
Left. Right. His eyes darted warily as he sought to see his surroundings, but he could see nothing, not even his clammy hands which clung to the wall. He suddenly felt a yearning for the warm and comforting glow of lantern light, but any flame would be immediately extinguished upon entry. No light was allowed to penetrate these walls, not even the natural light of the moon. It was almost as if bringing light was a sacrilege, a disruptive force in this world of shadows. The pure darkness that prevailed bred a kind of fear that was not only tangible, but also took on a terrifying physical form. But he wouldn't stray from the path, as long as he kept to the Way, he would be safe from the deep night.
Suddenly he stopped and peered into the veil of night surrounding him, the only sounds to be heard were the soft panting of his breath as he tried to see beyond the blackness. For a moment he thought another presence could be felt within the confines of the cave. A sound. He had heard a sound, faint, but there none the less. As he tried to look deeper, his feet led him away from the safety of the path. The air suddenly became thick, like an unnatural fog had descended and his breathing became heavy. The silent darkness, like an assassin seemed to close in, causing him to stumble and cut his hand. He hissed in pain and muttered a curse towards the stalagmite.
A mistake. For the noise had not gone unnoticed. His breath hitched as an eerie moan rose and fell through the darkness, like a tide might do on the shore, and all suspicions before were engulfed by a rising panic. He had lingered too long and strayed too far. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he sought the safety of the uneven wall and continued as quickly as he could without attracting further attention. His breathing became ragged as the path went deeper in, the soft moan seemingly following him as others joined it, echoing and amplifying along the twisted corridor of the cave. Blood pulsed quickly through his veins, the rushing sound in his ears coupled with the moans became almost unbearable and his earlier attempts at going unnoticed were immediately forgotten as he scrambled towards the safety of his destination.
With a pounding heart, he entered the cave which marked the end of his journey. For a moment he felt relief, but it was a respite which was to be short-lived.
"So you finally came."
He tensed, a hand straying towards the hilt of his short sword, ready for action, masking his earlier fear with determination as he turned to face the direction of the voice.
You could never tell in this place of shadows a friend or foe, or even if the dark apparition in front of you was real. Many had strayed into these caverns seeking their glory and many had never returned from the embrace of darkness, forever trapped in its shadowy illusions. Those that had returned were mad. Faces twisted in horror and pain trapped within the own nightmare of their minds, unable to break free. Some whispers told that after death, even their souls were never truly free and returned to this place of decay to forever wander, alone, in the dark.
The smooth voice rang out again, "Be at ease, friend. I am not your enemy."
"How can one tell in this blasted darkness?" He asked, suddenly annoyed at the calmness the other man seemed to posses. He tightened the grip on his sword.
"Because no other creature that inhabits the shadows would stand this." Upon speaking those words, a soft glow emanated in front of him revealing the outlines of a tall, cloaked figure. His cupped hands holding what appeared to be a soft ball of dancing light.
The light was not strong, but the darkness seemed to shrink away from it. All this had a strange affect upon him, reassuring him as some of his earlier fear and paranoia vanished. The orange light floated gently upwards and seemed to tinkle as it illuminated the cloaked man's features.
Recognition flickered across his features as he relaxed his guard. Feeling ashamed of his previous suspicions, he immediately bowed in respect.
"By your will."
The man before him seemed to inspect him for a moment before commenting, almost as if to himself, "the darkness affects you."
He cleared his throat and straightened, "It has been many years, since I was last here. I… did not anticipate the danger being so strong."
He hated to admit it, but he was getting older. With age he may have gained wisdom, but he was not as strong in both body and mind as he was when younger. He would not have made the journey unless he had been compelled to do so. Years ago a prophecy had been revealed to him, a legend which he refused to believe. But now… He shivered mentally. Things had changed and that was why he had returned.
"There has been rumours, sightings…" He hesitated, questioning again the reason he had come back here after so many years. This man dwelled in a house of death and only spoke of omens. There would be no good tidings imparted here tonight. He dreaded the man's words because his heart already knew the answer, but still he refused to accept the grief it would burden upon him.
He continued, "You spoke of such things when last I saw you, and…"
"And now you believe me." The man finished. A smile without warmth had curled upon the figure's lips.
"The time has come." The smile dropped and the man's voice became grave. "The darkness of the west is rising. I can feel it stir. Soon destiny must be fulfilled and the cycle completed. For this is the beginning and there must be an end. For good or for evil."
His eyes dipped. Omens. Only Omens. He suddenly felt weary and defeated as he received the words he had not wanted to accept. In his moment of weakness he desperately clung onto a fading false hope.
His gaze once again met with the steady eyes of the other as his voice cracked, "Perhaps you are mistaken. You never leave this world of shadows, you have not seen the outside world. Perhaps I am wrong. The rumours may be just that; fiction told by men to boost their own reputation and stroke their petty egos…"
He stopped as the cloaked man drew himself up to his full height, "What I say is the truth. I have never spoken otherwise to you, do you doubt my words now?"
The hope faded and his heart sank. This was a man who never lied. It was the truth and within his heart or hearts, he had always known it.
"Why." he almost whispered the words, "Why would he…?" He could hardly even bring himself to speak of it, the worry and the grief beginning to surface. But fate could not be ignored, older than the hills themselves, it gave life meaning and he had a duty to obey its' grand designs. And he had always found solace in duty.
Strengthening his resolve, he asked, "What must I do?"
Silence prevailed for a brief moment. He could just make out the edges of a grimace hanging on the cloaked man's lips as he replied.
"All that we can do; watch, wait and prepare. I feel an evil presence once again creeping upon this land." The cloaked man paused and tilted his head to let his intense red gaze pierce the man in front of him, "and I fear we shall not live to see even the end of this golden age."
To be continued in Chapter 1: The Beginning