The New Dragon Riders

8th Class

Chapter 1: Anthea

Thunder and lightning struck Palancar Valley like hammers falling on shields. Rain fell in sheets, blanketing the country side in sheer misery. Traversing the roads proved nearly impossible for even the most determined of travelers, especially when the wind whipped against the eyes of anyone foolish enough to be outside.

The storm flew in from the west, hitting the mountains of The Spine the harshest. A figure lay crouched among the bushes, draped in a cloak dappled in various shades of green. The figure held its head down, concealed by the cowl, and slowly sank into the bush.

Huff, huff, huff,

Trying her best to slow her breathing, the figure listened closely for the dreaded sound of followers. For a moment, perhaps there was no one. Perhaps. Then came the sound of roaring voices, yelling into the storm. Coming closer.

"Find him!" a voice roared. "He is surely here. I want him dragged back to me kicking and screaming. I want him to beg for his life until his throat bleeds. Find him!"

Splat splat splat,

The sound of boots slapping into mud drew near. Anxiety welled within the figure's stomach, but to panic now meant death. By remaining perfectly still, maybe . . .

"Blast it, damn you thief!"

A smile of satisfaction crept upon her face, quickly wiped away when she felt a flare of heat from under her cloak, accompanied by a flash of red and orange light. Chancing a peak, she lifted the edge of her cowl just enough for one eye to see what little it could out into the world. And what it saw made her gasp.

A torrent of flame rushed from the palm of a man's hand, bathing the forest in fire even as the rain bathed it in water. The man wore a rich purple robe that flowed in the wind behind him. As the flames ceased, her turned quickly, opened his palms, and released another torrent of flame. The symbol of a white dragon appeared on his back.

An imperial magician!

She recognized the symbol and had to work hard to keep from trembling. The man roared and cursed, setting fire to the surrounding forest. The men accompanying him, a dozen or so imperial soldiers, rushed around him with worried looks on their faces. Several appeared to speak to him, making big arm gestures and apparently voicing their disapproval, but the majority of their words were carried off by the wind long before they reached her ears.

Several snippets she caught were ". . . insane . . ."

". . . worth it . . ."

" . . . us all in your anger, stop this now!"

The magician roared into the wind, clenching his hands into fists, flames spewing from the gaps between his fingers. The guards kept heir distance but their urging continued.

Am I worth this? She thought to herself as the guards argued with the magician. I don't know but if I don't move soon, I'll be burnt alive!

Already the inferno created a wall of flame between her and the road. The only escape would be west, toward the Spine and away from her pursuers. But the hills and mountains were foreign to her, and far enough she knew there'd be Urgals, whose language she didn't know and who, as a general rule were best avoided.

But I may have to chance it . . . if I can even escape with notice!

She crouched close to the forest floor, hoping to crawl away or perhaps that the guards and magician would kill each other. The wet grass together with the biting wind made her miserable. Quiet as possible she turned and crawled on her stomach away from the flames.

"Hey!"

She froze. Some surely spotted her. The voice was close too. She looked up and gasped.

It wasn't obvious at first with the low visibility due to the black night and the harsh rain, but not far into the woods stood a castle on a hill surrounded on all sides by a high stone wall. Farther out from the castle a wrought iron gate stood erect, yet another barrier against intrusion. And rushing from this gate toward the flames was another figure, covered in a black cloak against the screaming wind.

It was a short figure but quick, whose voice somehow carried despite the wind and rain. The figure rushed forward until it stood only several yards away from the soldiers and magician, and even closer still to the figure hidden in the grass. But fortunately, this new figure stood focused on the others.

"Hey!" the figure called once more, voice incredibly loud and echoing, unmistakably the touch of magic. "What do you think you're doing?" The voice was rich and feminine, and carried the feel of authority behind it.

The imperial magician turned to her, flames in his fists extinguished. The soldiers quickly moved into formation, three on either side of the magician and six behind. The magician spoke, but his words were lost before they reached the hidden figure.

The woman replied, her voice still amplified by magic. "I don't care who you're looking for, you have no right to set fire to these woods. Do you have any idea how dangerously close you are to my property?"

When the magician replied that he hadn't, (assumedly) the woman replied with an answer that made the hidden figure shiver.

"Castle Stronghammer!" she roared. "And I am the court magician, personal guardian of the family of Stronghammer. We are more than capable of protecting ourselves."

Castle Stronghammer, the hidden figure cursed her stupidity. If ever there was a way to further endanger my life, this is it! She thought she'd rather take her chances with the imperial magician. Or the Urgals.

"Any thief," the figure continued, "fool enough to come near us will meet his end at the hands of our spells of protection. And if he be lucky enough to survive those, he will have the honor of dueling me personally. And there is not," the figure stressed, "another magician in Palancar valley more powerful than I. Not a single one."

The imperial magician took the hint. The figure assumed dominance and after a silent exchange between the magicians, the imperial mage turned around, quickly followed by the soldiers.

With a few inaudible whispers the flames were extinguished. The court magician watched as the imperials walked away. When they were well out of sight the magician turned back toward the castle. Then,

"I know you're there."

The figure froze. "It's a testament to how weak that magician was if he couldn't sense your presence. And wasting energy making flames in the rain. I'm surprised he hasn't fainted." The figure remained frozen as the magician stepped closer, until she was right in front of her. "Stand."

The hidden figure, apparently not so hidden, stood slowly. She slid a hand, obscured by her cloak, around the hilt of a dagger sheathed at her waist.

"No." The court magician shook her head. "I wouldn't if I were you. You'll find no quicker road to death." The figure let her hand fall from her waist, limp in defeat. This magician clearly had her, no matter what she did. She may as well resign to her fate, she reasoned, and perhaps plan an escape later.

Surprisingly the magician turned back toward the castle, took a few steps, then turned back. "Well? Aren't you coming? It's miserable out here." She continued walking, while saying "We have a warm fire and plenty of food. But I suppose it's your choice."

The figure looked back toward the road. Nothing good awaited her there. Then she looked toward the luxurious castle. If this was a trap, it was largely unnecessary. She rushed to catch up to the magician, until they walked in sync.

"Why are you helping me?" she asked, confused.

The magician turned toward the figure. "Because, they were calling out, we must find him, drag him back, and making such a fuss. That inept magician must have mistaken you for a man and the thief they are after. But you're clearly not."

The figure nodded. "Clearly, right."

The magician turned back toward the castle. "What is your name?"

The figure remained silent for a few seconds. "Anthea."

"Is that your real name?"

Anthea smiled. "Honestly, I don't know."

At the gate the magician paused, whispered a few words, then allowed them to continue. She did the same at the castle wall, in front of the imposing steel doors that stood fifteen feet tall. Anthea gulped. They seemed built to accommodate incredibly tall guests.

"Ladrin!"

She spoke with magic in her voice, the sound of which made Anthea shiver. The giant doors swung inward with ease, opening into a hallway just as tall. Orbs of dim orange light hung on the walls, illuminating the hall just enough for Anthea to notice the intricate rug on the floor and make out the edges of the paintings on the wall. Before she took a step, the magician motioned for her to stop.

"Wipe your feet."

"Huh?"

The magician pointed down. The first few feet of the hallway lay covered in a coarse mat. "Wipe your feet. This rug is of elvish make and a gift from the high Queen herself. I'll not have mud tracked on it. Wipe your feet."

Anthea nodded and quickly wiped the bottom and sides of her large boots on the mat until the magician was satisfied. They continued down the hallway until it opened into a large living room, just as tall and imposing.

More orbs hung on the walls, illuminating the room well in orange light. A set of fine maroon chairs and couches surrounded a thick stone fireplace, currently lit and providing perfect heat for the room. Another intricate rug covered the floor. Several halls branched off from the room, leading to parts unknown.

Sitting close to the fire sat a fair woman with red hair, holding in her arms a bundled baby. She wore a red shirt and a long violet skirt. She cooed softly and the baby laughed. The woman looked up and smiled. "Ismira, who have you brought in?"

The magician lowered her hood, revealing shoulder length red hair the same shade as the woman. She wore a gold circlet adorned with three rubies. "A traveler caught in the rain. She was being harassed by an imperial magician and several soldiers. Her name is Anthea"

"Ah," the woman nodded, then turned to Anthea with a sympathetic smile. "I'm so sorry. The imperial magicians can be quick to turn red when they don't get their way."

"Aye," came a voice from the closest hallway, a deep voice and unmistakably male. "They have trouble giving up control, now that the Riders have returned. Power hungry lot." A man with dark brown hair and a thick trim beard entered the room. He stood tall and muscled and wore a wool shirt and dark pants.

The man sat beside the woman and draped an arm around her shoulder. He eyed Anthea curiously. "How's a young lady like you find herself chased by soldiers? And a magician no less!"

Anthea could have cursed. She knew she'd have to answer this question eventually. "I'm incredibly unlucky," she explained. "It's a matter of being at the wrong place at the wrong time." Or the wrong person, she admitted silently to herself.

The woman nodded. "Yes but you're so young to have to suffer such bad luck. How old are you, exactly?"

"Fourteen."

"Fourteen!" The man shook his head. "As old as our daughter, and out getting attacked by magicians. Well sit, girl, and warm yourself up. You can stay here until the storm clears at least."

Anthea thanked them and sat by the fire, rubbing her hands together and holding them close to the flame. Her cowl fell back to reveal long brown hair tied back in a bun. Freckled dotted her face. As she sat with her back to the family, her left hand quickly jumped to her waist. Tied in a pouch just behind the dagger was her treasure. And she intended to keep it hidden as long as possible, until she made it home.

"Touch the heartstone."

Anthea looked up. "Hm?"

Ismira nodded toward a block of stone in front of the fireplace. It looked like an ordinary brick of stone, but for some reason had a round ruby bulging from the top, and two more slimmer rubies bulging from the sides. It looked as if it were one big jewel encased in stone. Who would do something so peculiar?

"Hearthstone?" she asked aloud.

Ismira nodded. "It's custom for all guests of our house to rub the heartstone, for luck."

Anthea nodded and rubbed the stone. The brick felt warm enough, but the ruby felt cool. She looked closely and saw thin veins of white running across the stone. What the . . .

"You must be hungry," the woman declared. "Some hot stew should warm you up."

As the night wore Anthea helped the family of Stronghammer prepare a late dinner of beef stew. The dining room lay on the other side of the wall that held the fireplace, with a wide window opening from one room to the other.

"So that a dragon can sit in one room and eat in the other," Ismira explained. The idea brought a smile to Anthea's face.

They sat around a table of polished white marble, eating and talking into the night. The woman, who Anthea learned was named Katrina, left first to put the baby to sleep. And the man, she learned, was the Earl Roran Stronghammer.

"It's an honor to have met you," Anthea said from across the table. "I've heard so many stories."

"Many of which have been exaggerated," he explained. "I wouldn't put much weight in them."

Anthea smiled, then turned to Ismira. "So you're the family magician, but you're also part of the family?"

"Of course," Ismira explained after she had a bit of stew. "Who would be more dedicated to protecting this family than someone in it?"

Roran nodded. "I was skeptical at first, but when it became abundantly clear Ismira was a powerful magician, I couldn't say no. Haven't seen a magician strong as her since my days as a soldier in the Varden. Though I don't know where she gets it. I never could do so much as lift a pebble," he chuckled.

Later into the night the Earl left for bed, leaving Anthea alone with Ismira. The young magician led her down a dim hallway ending at an oak door. "You can stay the night here," she explained. "There's a set of pajamas in the drawer if you'd like. You can also set your clothes outside and we can wash them in the morning."

Anthea thanked her and went into the room. Compared to the rest of the house, the room seemed relatively sparse and small. A simple bed in light blue sheets stood at the far wall, and a chest of drawers on the left. Within she found a set of dark blue pajamas she eagerly changed into, leaving her damp cloak and her other clothes outside. The exceptions were here knife, which she kept under her pillow, and her pouch, which she clutched to her heart with a free hand.

Almost home, she thought. Home . . . home . . .

It was a few hours from dawn that she heard a rattling somewhere in the room. Her eyes opened wide and she quickly drew her knife from its leather sheath. She sat up and looked around the room, tense and alert. The rattling ceased. At ease, she lay back down but kept her knife loose in its sheath, ready to be drawn.

The rattling began again. Anthea sat up, knife drawn, legs tucked in and ready to pounce if necessary. She looked around the room. Nothing. No one else, not even a closet for someone to hide. The rattling intensified, joined by a soft squeak!

Anthea listened close, and her eyes widened as she realized the sound came from beneath the bed. Kicking off against the wall she leaped across the room and landed on her feet in a crouch. She clutched the pouch to her chest, knife pointed at the bed.

"What sort of trickery is this?" she muttered to herself. The rattling stopped for a few seconds, then began again with renewed vigor! The squeaking intensified until together with the rattling it seemed as if nothing could be louder.

Deciding to chance it, Anthea fell flat on the floor and looked under the bed. What she saw only made her more confused. The hearthstone? She reached under the bed and retrieved the brick. It was in fact the stone she had rubbed by the fireplace. But why was it under her bed?

She dropped the stone as it shook once more, and backed away as the brick casing shattered on the ground, revealing the ruby red ovoid stone encased within. "Oh no," she cursed, "I've destroyed the Stronghammer heartstone." Cracks lined the stone, falling away one by one as it wobbled around, rolling and squeaking toward Anthea all the while. It bounced against her foot as the final bits of stone fell away.

In its place, to Anthea's shock, was a ruby red dragon, rocking back and forth on a piece of egg.

Anthea lost all color in her face. She felt like fainting and running away at the same time. "What is this?" she asked. Of all the things that could have happened, this she expected least.

"The Stronghammers had a dragon egg," she said to herself as she inched toward the door. It made sense. Their castle was well guarded, they were kin of the Riders, and Stronghammer was an Earl. This, she realized, must be one of the check points where dragon eggs were ferried to when carried around the kingdom and beyond.

And she broke it.

"I-Ismira," she called, inching toward the door. "Is-"

The door swung open. Ismira stood in her familiar cloak, shaking her head. "What's this? Anthea, did you try to steal our heartstone?"

"No!" Anthea insisted. "I didn't, I swear I didn't."

"Then what was it doing in your room?" she asked as she stepped closer to the dragon, studying it. "Did you know what it was? Are you working for someone?" She snapped toward Anthea. "Are you here to undermine our empire? Assassinate my father? Me?"

"No!" Anthea's heart pounded hard in her chest, tears gathering in her eyes. "I have no idea what's going on, I promise."

"I have no choice but to punish you," Ismira declared. "In the harshest way possible." She whispered, and Anthea's knife became hot as flame. She dropped it, and it fell clattering on the floor. The dragon turned toward the noise, curiously looking at the knife.

"Do you know that the touch of a newborn dragon is highly toxic?" Ismira asked, floating toward the bed and smiling devilishly at Anthea. "It's their primary defense against predators. Anyone unlucky enough to touch a baby dragon suffers the most excruciating pain possible. Then death, of course, but only after hours of terrible agony."

Anthea gulped. "Please. I didn't mean to-"

"You have no choice." Another mutter, and the door slammed shut. The dragon stalked closer to Anthea, squeaking in excitement. Anthea backed away toward a corner of the room, shaking. The dragon stepped closer until it stood only inches away. It licked the membrane from the egg off its skin, then turned to Anthea playfully.

"It's time to meet your destiny," Ismira declared.

The dragon pounced. Anthea threw her hands up to defend herself. She touched the dragon's hide. And her world was never the same again.