The Blue Dragon
Chapter I
The crimson sun burned on to the small group of fearless warriors. They stepped around twigs and dead leaves silently and stealthily, their armour not daring to clink or even shift. The wind chills the men as they creep through the dead forest. The trees sway angrily, as if trying to scare the men away, but they walk on, ignoring the threats the forest seemed to keep relaying into their heads.
Only one young man, 16 years old, was affected by it. They continued looking for the blue dragon, meaning to kill it. The creature had done nothing to hurt them, but like all dragons all the warriors who hunted them wanted to do was kill them, so they could get their precious bag of gold. They came to a clearing; it was covered in ash and collapsed trees. "The dragon has passed through here." The commander stated as if they couldn't see the huge wreck of forest in front of him.
The men began looking for scales, which they could use to track the creature. The commander saw a crimson arrow laying a few feet away from him. He walked to it and bent to pick it up, it was the last thing he ever saw.
He grabbed it and gasped. He fell to his knees, croaked a hoarse curse and slammed to the ground, never to speak again; protruding from his back was a dagger.
The boy turned to the commander and screamed. The men turned and ran to the commander. "AMBUSH!" A soldier cried with anger. Yet no attack came, "move into the trees and flush them out!" The men fanned out and began to move towards the trees, the boy crept fearfully through the wood, his foot struck a twig and he turned and squealed as a hand grabbed him.
It was a soldier, he handed the boy a scroll. "Take this to Lord Balor!" "But …" The boy replied. "Go messeng….." a sword was thrust through his stomach, the boy screamed and ran for his life, he saw figures moving toward him. He ran to the steed reserved for him in case of attack and mounted. He put the horse into a gallop and left the battle scene, as he did a fearful soldier mounted also. "Ride!" He screamed.
A bowman stood watching the horse leaving, he closed his eyes sadly and shook his head, he put an arrow to the bowstring, pulled back aimed at the boy running away, and released.
A tear fell from his eye as the boy fell from the horse and fell to the floor with an arrow in his back. The soldier on the back began to ride the horse but was knocked down by a hiding pikeman. The bowman walked to the boy, who was leaning on a tree coughing up blood. The bowman looked down at him. The boy held his arms up as a last defence as the bowman drew his sword solemnly. "I'm sorry, truly I am." The bowman croaked sadly, and swung his sword into his neck.
The last two soldiers stood back to back, looking for a way to escape. "We can't escape." One said sadly. "Let us die with honour." The other nodded and they charged into the wood screaming battle cries and swinging their swords blindly. The first tripped on a rope tied in between two trees and he fell onto a patch of sharp sticks sticking up from the ground. The second came face to face with a small but sturdy warrior wielding a battle axe. The man swung his axe in one swipe and knocked his head clean off its shoulders.
The bowman strolled to the short warrior and leaned against a tree. "Where's Fransen?" "How the hell should I know?" The small dwarf like man replied. "When he's not with Saj he's off in his own little world." The men glanced to their left to see their ally, Romac. Taller than the stubby man known as Turken, but still quite short, he was fumbling with a wire wrapped around his boot. "Romac, how in holy hell did you manage to get a snapped trip wire stuck around your boot?" "A Damn horse nearly fell on me, that's how!"
Turken laughed heartily, his long beard bobbing up and down. Turken had nut brown hair that was naturally long, a deep bellowing voice and deep brown eyes. The quiet bowman, known as Celtam, was a very tall man who had been through a terrible childhood, losing his parents at 13. He had long blonde hair and deep blue eyes that could un-nerve a man with one glance. Romac had dark hair, hazel eyes and a light voice. The missing man, Fransen, Had bright green eyes that were almost scary, black hair and a very threatening but sensitive face.
Men began to emerge from the wood, all of their armour and cloaks had at least a smudge of blue in them, even the camouflaged ones. Their faces showed no smugness, no pity and no emotion. They walked deeper into the wood, fading into the dimness of the night, they weren't men at all, they were Sajantians.