My newest story! Based off of the book Joust by Mercedes Lackey, but I'll be taking the storyline in a different direction. I love the universe, though. I'll try to include many characters in this AU, but the main character is Altair.

Also note: "Okwaho" is pronounced "Oh-gwa-ho" and means "wolf" in Mohawk, to my knowledge.

I hope you enjoy this! Reviews would be appreciated! (You can also point out grammatical errors or misspellings if you'd like - it'd help a lot.)

Altair knew that being a slave was difficult work, but he had it easier than most. He lived in a small home on a rich man's land, protected from the harsh winds of the desert surrounding them. The land sat upon an oasis-like area, providing water for the plants and trees growing near the large mansion-like home. As Altair looked outside of his small shack, he sighed and realised just how lonesome he was. There were no other slaves aside from him at the current point, and being a thirteen year old boy with no friends aside from the fiery winds of the expanding sands and the sun that made him sweat endlessly was difficult.

Suddenly his name was called, and Altair shot up. The man who owned the land could be very angry when his orders weren't followed directly, and Altair had no plans of making him upset. As Altair approached the man, he hung his head, knowing what was coming. "Yes, Al Mualim?" He muttered, kicking the sand with his bare foot.

The elder man stared down at Altair for a long moment, then leaned down slowly. "Did you steal part of the season's harvest?"
Altair shook his head. "No, sir." And it was true - Altair never stole anything that didn't belong to him.

However, this didn't seem to please the man - Al Mualim - and he reached down, grabbing Altair's shoulders and shaking. "I know you stole something, the profit this season has gone down from last year! I haven't made enough!"
Altair winced, attempting to hold his ground. "I promise, sir, I never stole a thing!"

After a long moment of silence between the two figures, the man let go of Altair and walked away, shouting, "If my profits don't go up, I'll be leaving you on the streets, just like where I found you!"

After Al Mualim was a distance away, Altair started on a sprint into the sands - he knew that there may be a sandstorm on the way, but he couldn't help himself - he needed to run.

The sands burned Altair's feet as he rushed through them, getting the dust all the way up his legs and onto his plain slave uniform - shorts down to his knees and a scratchy tunic - and he knew he'd have to undress and shake them out later, but the current moment was full of the energy and the rush of the run.

He ran and ran until he felt his legs would fall off, until the mansion was as small as a pebble between his fingers - and then Altair stopped and collapsed into the sands, rolling onto his back. His chest heaved with the breath he needed to recollect, and he stared up at the skies. Blue, blue, blue, as far as his eyes could see. He turned his head, searching the horizon. The only other thing he could see aside from the sands was a large structure - he'd never been there. He was told by Al Mualim that beasts lived there, ones that could reach over and snap his head off his shoulders if they wished, and upon their backs rode men with javelins and swords, ready for battle.

Altair was always curious about that place - he wanted to know what the beasts looked like, and if they truly were as savage as he was told?

He closed his golden eyes, taking a deep breath. The sand around him had settled, and a soft breeze ruffled his hair as he lay. He was tired, now.

Altair knew it was bad to fall asleep in the desert - fatal to do so, even - but the thought was so compelling...

And then he heard a scream. It wasn't a human scream, but something along the lines of a shriek, high-pitched, yet deep and throaty. His eyes shot open and he looked around for the source of the sound, leaning up onto his elbows. He saw nobody - and then a shadow passed overhead, and he saw it: a flying beast of many colors, its scaly wings outstretched to be the size of the shack he called home, the sun reflecting upon the scales of the creature to show the iridescent, rainbow coloration.

Upon its back rode a man of twenty or thirty years, shirtless and with a sword strapped to his belt. He yelled something in a foreign tongue, and the beast upon which he rode descended to the ground several feet away from Altair, who covered his face from the sand.

The man upon the beast's back looked at Altair, but the boy was focused on the creature - it had a long, serpentine neck and an elongated mouth, its tounge flicking in and out every few seconds, tasting the air. Its scales were several colors at once, and its body was bulky and heavy. Its feet, however, were large enough to be able to hold itself upon the sands and not sink, yet they ended in sharp, razor-like claws.
Its tail wound around its legs as the rider commanded it to lay, and the beast let out a long yawn and rest its long neck against the ground.

The man stepped down from his saddle, his hand on his sword.

He stood taller than Al Mualim ever had compared to Altair, and his skin was a darker shade. His hair was pitch black, as were his eyes. His hair was long and braided to the side, pulled over one shoulder. He adjusted the weapon strap on his chest, stepping forward to look Altair over.

"You look frightened, young one. Come," His voice was heavily accented in a way Altair couldn't place, "I have been needing someone to assist me. You want to get away from this life, no?"
Altair nodded slowly, standing once again. He brushed the sand off of his legs and made his way closer to the man, who showed Altair to the beast. It lifted its multicolored head and stuck its tounge out several times, tasting the air again.

Altair shrunk back, but the man pushed him forward with one hand. "This is Okwaho," He explained, "And my name is Ratohnhaké:ton."