THE DRAGON RIDERS
CHAPTER 1: FIRE IN THE SKY
Incandescent flames billowed throughout the mountainous landscape. The glow burned against the night sky with such contrast that one would have to avert their gaze in order to avoid damage to their eyes; any direct look at the sea of flames swirling like waves would be like looking into the sun. The sky was blurred with a grayish cloud of smoke, and smelt like burning seeder coupled with a harsh stench of rotting meat. As the fire lashed about, a hooded person emerged from what seemed to be pure rock. From the person's body language, one could tell that the person was in a great hurry, not only because of the deadly surroundings, but because of how the cloaked person looked around frantically back at where he or she had appeared from, afraid at what might come out of what seemed like a solid piece of rock. As mysterious stranger looked around desperately, panic-stricken, the sound of hooves thundering against the ground erupted, and grew louder, and louder, creeping ever closer like mountain lion stalking a cornered prey. Then, suddenly, the unknown person jumped like some wild animal, as the speed and height would astound any viewer. The person disappeared into the thick brush and ran with such amazing speed and quietness that at a distance could be taken for a cat. Sleek as the person was, however, he or she was no match for a steed. The only advantage was that horses could not maneuver with the usual grace and quickness that usually suited them in country that had trees as clustered as here.
As the person vanished among the brush, half a dozen men on horses emerged from an unseen path. They looked around, the looks on their faces intense. The fire did not seem to bother them, as if the almost alive flames could engulf anything but them. They closed together and immersed in deep strategic conversation. After a few seconds of muttering and pointing, two of the six broke off in the direction they had previously came from, while the remaining four set off into the forest that the person they were most likely chasing had ran into. As they did, one of the men had another person behind them on their steed. This rider stayed back. It seemed as if the person he was carrying held significance among the group, for he did not wear armor and was not garbed with any weapons or leather, nor any greaves and bracers at first speculation. He wore a simple black cloak, made of very shiny silk, that seemed to move with the wind and air at all times. The man's eyes were white, and he looked to be muttering something very deliberately, as if to will whatever he was saying. The other three soldiers stopped, and backed away towards the fire, looking frightened, as one could see their faces for their helms were not closed to guard the face. The horses seemed reluctant to edged toward the fire.
At that moment, the lively flames behind that seared even the birds that flew far above them seemed to grow still. They did not lash out unpredictably. Even the heat was reduced so much that fire had never felt as cold. Then, as if by transportation, another fire erupted in front of the riders, just as fierce and destructive as the one behind them had been. And with that, the other two horsemen arrived, looking confident. They exchanged some very quick words with the rider carrying the cloaked man, who seemed unaffected by the news they brought him. Apparently, he had expected this, and sending them in that direction was merely a precaution. With haste, the six trotted gingerly on a new path the fire had created. The flames seemed to doing the will of the horsemen, for the white-hot flames never crossed their paths, and once never lash out in their direction. To the contrary, they seemed to be forming a burnt trail going straight ahead of them to where the person who was running had gone. The horses picked up speed, charging for that small space. The fire, if it deserved such a realistic term, never closed up, as if an invisible line prevented it from doing so. As they charged, the black-cloaked man had stopped moving his mouth and his eyes had returned to their normal grey. At the edge of the peak, they stopped. They had not expected such a steep hill, and therefore the horse could not go down. The rider at the back, who seemed to be the leader, shouted something at the two who had been sent to search in the flames but a few minutes previously. The two dismounted, drew their swords, and edged carefully, each looking the opposite way, down the hill. At that moment, a long stick flew from the right side of slope, piercing both warriors, and pinning them to each other at the heart.
The remaining four soldiers did not tarry. They bolted down the hill towards the right, brandishing their swords like mad men. The black-cloaked man remained, and his pupils went white again, and he began chanting a haunting melody that echoed over the whooshing of flames. The fire then lashed in the direction of where the spear had been thrown, engulfing them in inferno. Those flames in turn lashed again toward an unknown spot. As it hit it's intended spot, it seemed to deflect to the side, and reemerged as a great ball, which was thrust back at the four men, who had barely traversed half the distance between the slight clearing and the person who they were after. The fire engulfed two, and not as before, burned and battered them to oblivion. The black-cloaked man did not linger in surprise. In fact, he had seemed to anticipate this move. With a quick motion, he waved his hand over the forest and after barely a split second, the many fifty-foot tall trees with trunks as thick as three men could wrap their arms around, collapsed with speed greater than gravity. They collapsed on the area where the flames had been directed. The two men with swords stopped at the sight, dismayed. They approached with extreme caution. One tapped the very top log, and without warning, it flew out of it's place and crushed the final two men, landing on them and rolling them flat like dough. The cloaked man scowled as he beheld a women standing their, un-hooded, panting slightly at the effort of pushing a seven hundred pound log from such an awkward position. She stepped forward.
She did not look right, though. Her ears seemed pointed at the tips, and were longer and more animalistic. Her eyes were a light blue that seemed to gaze past what she stared at, as if she could not be deceived. The eyelashes seemed to make them narrower, and thus enhancing her non-human characteristics. Her hair was hip-length, wavy, and rich shade of red. She wore a brown travelling cloak, and within one of it's many folds drew a gleaming silver blade. The whiteness of it was hard to look at after such long and arduous view of unnatural fire. The black-cloaked man did not wait. Yet he did not carry a sword. Instead, he walked forward, and, with an upward motion of his pale hand, created a flaming blade. The fire surrounded what looked to be vibrating metal. It was a deep orange, and protected the inside of whatever it was. The handle was glowing slightly brighter, as if it's masters touch held a level of importance. His hair had receded, and was pure white. A bald patch on his head held a tattoo of two coiling serpentine creatures. And, with a humorless, insane laugh, lunged at the woman with surprising speed. She did not wait. As the man lunged, she swerved to the side and swung her blade up, catching the flaming sword, if, like the fire, deserved such a life-like term. The man swung it back to his left, than did a side-swipe, trying to behead the woman. She danced back a couple of step with such balance and speed; the man seemed caught of guard. The woman then did an overhand swing with such ferocity that it seemed to be able to break anything. The man barely reacted in time, and blocked the fatal blow in such and awkward stance that his left arm jarred. Left with only one good hand, he kept a safe distance from the woman, who was able to best him at every turn. Whenever he struck down at her feet, she would trap his sword, swing hers up, and deliver a deep cut, while jumping away from him to avoid sharing the same fate. When he swung with an overhand swing, she blocked it with apparent ease, and with an effort pushed him back with enough energy to knock a normal down with force. When swing from side to side, she simply deflected the shots in the opposite direction and stabbed at his body, succeeding many times. The disadvantage of one good arm severely weakened his chances of winning, which were slim to begin with. His arm grew weary, and he knew it was only a matter of seconds before he succumbed to the body-numbing injuries all over his torso and legs. Finally, abandoning all caution, he dropped his sword and began muttering inaudible things with as much haste as he could. The woman seemed to be waiting for this, for when he did, she struck the ground with her sword, and yelled. The ground trembled violently. The man's concentration lapsed. His eyes were not white anymore. Seizing the initiative, the woman stabbed him in the heart so violently that he was lifted off the ground. She then flick her sword to her right, and an odd sound came as the flesh left the blade and the body went flying several feet. For one moment, she allowed herself to relax, and then returned to where the trees had crashed.
With a great effort, she removed the few logs that covered where she had been crouched. And their she found the pouch within which was what the horsemen and the man with supernatural abilities had been after. She looked back, and after examining the fire, mouthed a few phrases that sounded like a hymn. The fire dimmed and flickered, and eventually went out, and the ground it had been charring held no evidence of their ever being a fire. As for the flames a ways away, the weather would take care of them. It was fall, and rain was as expected as this attack. She then picked up the pouch with care. It was about the size of her torso. She then continued to walk north, and after a few minutes, reached her destination. Their infront of her lay an endless field of crops and hay. The yellowish colour was not their as it was in the daytime. Yet her eyes also had a keener sense of vision, and could see farther than most other beings. She looked out beyond the city to the left, lights flashing and slight noises that humans couldn't hear coursing throughout the night air. And then her gaze shifted to her right. Among the farmland, there was a small hill, and on top of that hill a small cabin. Smoke oozed out of a chimney from the fire inside. A small boy opened the door and stooped down to pick up what was a small dog. As he prepared to enter the house again, he looked back, a puzzled look upon his face. He could not see the woman; she was nearly a kilometre away, and on the very edge of the mountains and the farm. He turned back into his house and shut the door behind him.
The woman opened the pouch, and from within it's depths pulled out a small creature, no bigger than the dog the small boy owned. The small animal coughed and a puff of smoke escaped its nostrils. The woman smiled and held it up to the sky. Eager as she was to lighten her burden, she could not help but think of the consequences of her action. Then again, the dragon would only chose one and the one it had chosen resided within this small, secluded town.