Chapter 1

Death

what, you actually want to read this? cool. well, here it is then. (shortest A/N i've ever written...)

The sound of quill pens scratching and paper shuffling filled the great hall. They had been tracking the case for five weeks now, but there was still no clue. Everyone was involved now. It was just too important to dismiss.

Albel went over the various notes, files and reports again, trying to keep his mind off her. It hurt, thinking of her, of what he had done…but it was the right thing to do. He would have never been able to give her what she wanted. As his mind wandered, he found something that confirmed his growing suspicion.

Of course…it was all so obvious. Their next target was…

He stood up so quickly the chair went flying. Heads turned as he grabbed the nearest soldier and ordered him to prepare a dragon. He had to hurry. If they found him first…

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A day later found Albel in Kirlsa. Bursting through the front gates, he rushed up towards Woltar's office. Because he was in such a hurry, he didn't notice that it was too quiet. The streets were deserted, there were no guards at the gates, no mouth-watering food scents filled the unnaturally still air. If he had noticed those tiny details, things would have turned out differently. But he didn't. Fear for his oldest friend clouded his senses.

He flung open the door. "Woltar! You have to get out of here, they're –"

The chair behind the desk was facing away from the door, its occupant shrouded in shadows. The young warrior could only just make out the top of a head. The chair was always facing the door. Always. His eyebrows furrowed; something was wrong. He could feel it; a building sense of dread and…something else. It slunk away from the cage he had trapped it in, creeping ever closer to his heart, waiting for the perfect moment to strike, just like he did when hunting his prey. The hunter was being hunted by the strongest of all emotions. One that he had tried so hard to hide from, to beat away with all his might. Fear.

Cautiously, he moved towards the chair. "Woltar…?"

He touched the pale hand that laid on the armrest, and backed away in horror, crimson eyes wide with shock. The fear cried in triumph. He was too late. The older man's eyes stared out vacantly, mouth slightly open. A dagger embedded up to the hilt, protruded from his chest.

"I'm sorry, old man. I tried." Normally these words would never pass his lips, but Woltar was like his father, comforting him when he had lost his parents. A solid rock that always offered support, even when his sister had…yes. Woltar was a good man. One that didn't deserve to die. Albel bowed his head in respect, and as he did, his sharp eyes caught the faint footprints leading away from the body. They were still here. His claw flexed, the freshly oiled joints making no sound as his eyes narrowed dangerously. They would pay.

Very slowly, he moved towards the closet where the footsteps disappeared. The Crimson Scourge glowed a faint red as it read his mind, eager for blood.

He counted silently in his head, his claw closing round the closet door's handle…

One.

…His eyes burning for revenge…

Two.

…As his hand tightened round his sword…

Three.

He flung the door open and thrust with the blade. But there was nothing. No cry as the razor-sharp blade pierced the heart, no thump as the lifeless body hit the floor, not even blood when he withdrew the sword. There was no one in there.

What the…?

Something hit him from behind. Before he could give even a gasp of surprise, he was attacked again. The last thing he heard before the wings of darkness folded round him was a cold, harsh laugh…

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The dragon, Silver Talon, growled softly. Something was wrong. She could feel it. She made her way to the mansion, noting with confusion that the normally lively streets were empty. Experienced eyes noted the signs, and realised that the people had fled. But why…? Once at the mansion, she went round the back and looked in through the window to Woltar's study, drawing back with a hiss when she saw the corpse. Her master was too late. So what was taking him so long? Wait…that was his sword! He never left without it!

Roaring, she smashed her head through the window, showering the room in tiny shards of glass. The slivers were small enough to slip through her scales, but she shook them off impatiently. The pain was drowned out by the wild fear and dread that filled her heart. It didn't matter. Her master was gone!

As Silver Talon picked up his sword, she noticed a small white feather on the desk beside the corpse of the old man. Taking it with her, she set off for Airyglyph. Oddeye would know what to do.

everyone! silver talon's back! oh, btw, there is a character death. kinda late for that, but still...

CLIFF HANGER! MWAH HA HA HA! NOW YOU HAVE TO READ ON! MWAH HA HA HA! and i'm not updating until i see those reviews. my brain needs something to work with, people...