by Unknown
Taro glanced at Orefar. He put up his arm, reaching for his magic, but hesitated. If he used his magic, Orefar would know.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t his top concern at the moment, as the leader of the assassins stepped forward.
“You claim to be a magic-wielder? Pah, your people are so unrefined and pathetic.” His voice was heavily accented. Makarian. His body was covered in a black bodysuit, and his face was covered in thick, deep scars. Dragon claws, Taro realized, but he didn’t know why he knew that. Around him, ice clung to the ground.
“What do you want from us?” Taro asked.
“Want? What could I possibly want from you? Your master is a target. The only thing I want is his total destruction, but if you get in my way, I will not hesitate to dispose of you, too.”
“The city guards will be here soon.”
“In which case we will be long gone. And if not, they will be easily disposed of. Mortals don’t often bode well against dragon magic.”
A chill crawled down Taro’s spine.
The man glanced at Orefar, and then at Taro. “I do not like killing children. They scream too loudly. I’d much prefer if you’d scatter, and alert your friends. It would make this so much nicer.”
“You’ll have to go through me.”
The assassin sighed. “I was afraid you would say something like that.”
Something white slammed into Taro. His whole body tightened as if shocked, and then burned with pain as he was slammed back. He heard something cracked as he crashed into the wall.
A frozen, cold hand slammed into his chest, shoving him against the stone. “You would do well to learn, boy, that I don’t take well to threats.”
“I don’t make them unless I can keep them,” Taro hissed.
He drew on his power.
Magic flooded his body, healing his body in a matter of seconds. He pushed out, and his ears was met with the satisfying sound of the assassin screaming as his body burned.
Interesting, Taro thought, one freezes, while another burns.
He jumped forward, drawing on his power. He felt so alive with energy coursing through his veins unlike anything the Essence had ever given. This was the magic he was meant to use.
“You might have power, boy, but you’re no match for me!” The assassin charged, white energy emerging from his chest.
Taro responded with his own magic. Red energy flowed from his palms, a misty, buzzing ball of crimson. Red and blue slammed into each other, and Taro felt electricity run down his arms.
His vision changed. Suddenly, he wasn’t in Orefar’s study anymore. He was in a battlefield, surrounded by bodies, gored by arrows or axes. He tried to think what he was doing there, but he couldn’t quite remember why.
Something huge whipped out of the sky, spreading it’s massive wings and landing in front of him, a giant, lizard-like thing.
No. Not a lizard.
A dragon.
Taro gasped, pulling away. The assassin stood there, stunned. He looked at Taro. “What did you-”
His words cut off as crimson magic swirled from Taro’s hand and speared through the man’s chest. The man crumbled to the ground.
Taro groaned as the exertion took its toll. He stumbled, struggling to stay conscious
He froze. In his fight, he had forgotten about Orefar.
His master looked at him with a mixture of awe and fear, his fingers clenched tightly around his staff. “Taro…what did you do…”
Before he could answer, a deep, ominous sound boomed through the town.
The Makarians were here.
Chapter 4
Orefar glanced at Taro. “We’ll talk about this later. You stay out of sight!”
“No!” Taro stepped forward, blocking Orefar from exiting. “I can help! I have magic!”
“Your magic is illegal! If you aren’t killed by the Makaraians, you’ll be hanged for dabbling in the dark arts!”
“I don’t care! I have to try!”
“Your magic could get you killed! War mages are highly valued and feared. They have warriors who specifically attack mages like you or I.” Orefar said.
“And if I don’t go out there, hundreds more will die! I have magic—I should use it to help others.”
“Dragon magic only destroys,” Orefar said. “I forbid you to go endanger yourself!”
“With all due respect, master, you really can’t stop me.” Taro twisted on his foor, descending the stair. He listened back to see if Orefar would follow him, but he heard nothing.
Taro could feel the dragons before he saw them. They radiated with power, their bodies pumping with adrenaline. He stepped outside, blinking at the hundreds of dragon that covered the skies. He raced through the streets in the opposite direction of the scrambling crowd towards the walls.
Two dragon riders swooped down with their mounts, cutting his path off, their skin covered in thick, hard armor of dragonmail.
Taro had hear the stories, but this was the first time he had ever seen a dragon so close. He was surprised how cat-like they were, with strong but thin and agile legs with slender wings. Each of them pounded with a slight pulse. Magic, Taro realized.
One of them muttered something to the other, and Taro knew that they could sense his own magic.
He took a step back, drawing his energy forward. The two scrambled to stop him—they were used to mages who drew on the Essence, not the rapid energy bursts of their own magic. They both responded with their own magic, yellow bursts of light, as Taro threw out his own. Their magic slammed together, slamming all three of them off the ground. The dragon mounts hissed, recoiling like a frisky horse.
Interesting. They respond to magic.
The guards said they could get in your head. Does it work both ways?
Suddenly, Taro had an idea. He feinted with a slight blast of power towards the dragon riders, forcing them to avert their focus, but he focused most of his power at the dragons. The dragons perked up, trying to locate the source of the force.
Taro pushed harder. The riders groaned as their connection with their mounts were strained. He grunted, wrapping his power around the dragons and tightening his hold.
His body burned, and something rang in his ear. White light blinded him,
He gasped, stumbling backwards. The dragon riders lied on the floor, dead.
Four dragon eyes looked at him, expectant. Gingerly, Taro tugged on their mind, surprised at the connection between him and the two dragons. Somehow, he could feel their though subconsciously, control them
He grinned, and stepped forward, jumping onto the backs on one of the dragons.
Let’s see what else I can do.
He beckoned the dragon to move in his mind, and his mount gave a powerful kick and then suddenly they were in the air.
They carved through the wind, driven by a new sense of urgency. Taro could hear the screams of men and beast in the distance, and the pulsing was growing louder. One in particular stuck out to him, even more prevalent now that he was attuned with a dragon. It was like it connected to all others, guiding their actions.
A Queen Dragon.
Soldiers cried out as he passed by the walls. The battleground didn’t look good. The ground was scorched by dragon fire and soldier fought for their lives, desperately trying to stop their enemies from breaching the walls. The speed and efficiency of the Makarian army had thrown everyone off guard. They wouldn’t last much longer. Taro pushed down into the stirrup of the saddle, pushing his dragon to go faster. They needed to find her.
The dragon seemed to follow the impulse naturally, flying through the storm of dragons and arrows. Taro desperately looked into the barrage of dragons, unsure what he was looking for.
Something swooped out of the air, snatching Taro’s dragon. Huge claws slashed through the dragon’s thick armor like it was made of ribbon. Taro screamed as pain ripped through his mind as acutely as his dragon felt the pain.
He was thrown upwards, out of his saddle. Wi
thout thinking, Taro reached out and gripped the claws of the huge thing.
The Queen Dragon screamed, a colossal black thing. Acid sputtered from its mouth. So close to it, the pounding was unbearable.
It had no rider.
Something instinctive forced him to move. Taro jumped, his hands cut open by the sharp scales that covered the thing’s body. He groaned, ignoring the pounding wind on his face as he climbed onto the top of the dragon’s body.
He stepped forward, placed his hands on the top of the Queen Dragon’s head, and then pushed.
It was like a dam of power. The barrier between him and the dragon snapped, creating one conglomeration of power. The Queen Dragon screamed again as Taro forced it into his control.
Dragons flocked around him, screeching at him, calling him master.
Taro could still feel the power of the Queen pounding in his body, but he had control. He had control of the most powerful force in nature. He was the Essence.
He looked down at his city, burning and broken. They would live. They would rebuild. Humans always did. Maybe someday, he would return.
But not now.
Slowly, he turned the fleet of dragons around, and back towards their home.
He was their King now.
To be continued........
Sunny
Chapter 1
Twilight. The time of day where both the living and the dead slowly become aware of one another. In a quiet, leafy London suburb, the grass remained wet from yesterday's rain, but that didn't stop the kids from playing. Their school uniforms, a mixture of polyester and itchy cotton, started to sag into their skin.
'Abi, what does that cloud remind you of?' Henry asked, pointing skyward.
'That one? That's Mrs Cooper!' Abi replied.
'She screamed at Alex today. Did you know?'
Abi stood up, placed her hands on her hips while she thrust her head back and continued.
, ' Master Bradshaw, never have I raised my voice. A true lady never raises her voice! Henry giggles.
Abi, seeing how hilarious her theatrics were panning out continued with the mimicking.
'Henry Bradshaw! What is so funny young man? Can you not see your soul is at stake? Every giggle is the devil!' Abi's right fist shook in faux anger as her left hand stayed firmly on her hip.
'I'm sorry, Mrs Cooper!' She started, imitating another pupil.
'So you should be Master Bradshaw. So you should be! '
While this happened, Henry struggled to keep from laughing at the show. His nose twitched and he bit his lip in a vain effort to hold off.
'I'm sorry Mrs. Cooper!' Abi continued ' I will reflect upon my sins and say a Hail Mary! '
Abi shifted her head swiftly so her nose pointed to the sky and addressed Henry again.
'Yes! All of my students should pray. And also for me! Pray that I have the strength for my duty! You think I like chastising young Alex here?' Abi said, pointing to a bush.
She walked over and started to spank the bush. Seeing Abi with her best fake stern face, administering special lessons to the shrubbery was more than Henry could take. At first, the laughter came out in spurts, but bubbled quite quickly to a full-blown uncontrollable fit.
The laughter spread over to Abi as she continued spanking the shrub...
'And this for being late the first hour! And this for being early the next hour! This, because I don't like the shrubbery!'
Abi tried to continue in her stern impression, but the giggles overtook her. She twirled around and landed next to Henry.
'Poor Alex!' Abi said, in her accent that made the name ‘Alex’ sound quite harsh.
'Better him than us!' Henry said.
Abigail stops and sighs. A more somber mood than a young girl should have, quickly takes over. The previously playful Abi disappears only to be replaced by a contemplative one
'No, I left the glue pot open Henry. It wasn't Alex.' She admitted.
Henry sighed and proceeded to speak.
'Abi, I'll tell Mrs. Cooper it was me tomorrow. I didn't think Alex would get in that much trouble for it. I don't want you getting into trouble too'.
Henry wrapped his fingers around a small violet and plucked it from the ground. He gently gave it to Abi and smiled. Even at a young age, Henry had the capacity to make things seem better effortlessly.
Abi took the flower and smiled. She put the flower to her nose, taking in the scent while her other hand reached out for Henry's. Her pale skin contrasted against Henry's slightly freckled hand.
Abi suddenly looked upward. The wind moved the clouds steadily across the sky.
'What does that one look like?' Abi asked, pointing to the east
'A whale! Just like the one we saw in that cartoon the other day!'
'Remember when it ate the mouse and the mouse built a house inside of its tummy and the chimney smoke would come out of its spout?'
Henry smiled. It was a wide warm smile. He was certainly enjoying every second of his ‘playtime’ with Abi.
'…. or that time when the mouse was chased by the fish that the whale also put in its mouth and the fish used the whale's tongue for a slide?' Henry asked.
'Hey, what does that one look like?' Henry was pointing upwards as though he had been nudged by something.
Abi followed his finger towards another cloud. It was a bit darker than the rest. It wasn’t true silver, but rather something that could cause much rain later. Its shape expanded as she watched it move across the sky. Abigail's smile vanished.
'Night People.' She said and held Henry's hand close to her. She looked over at Henry as he turned his head towards her. 'Henry, do you see Night People?'
'Night People? What are they?' A now curious Henry asked.
Abi tightened her grip on Henry's hand and began,
'They...they...'
A voice suddenly broke the ominous mood.
'Abigail! Abigail! Time for bed! Your friend will have to go!' the words of her mother came out loud from the porch.
Abigail quickly turned to the direction of the voice releasing her grip.
'Night People? 'Henry called after her, clearly puzzled.
'I, I have to go.' Abigail got up sharply and ran off towards the direction of her mother's voice. She did this quickly – almost too quickly. Perhaps, it was in an effort to avoid giving an answer. Perhaps not. It did not matter. He knew he could ask her again the next day at school.
Henry got up slowly and waved at Abi before leaving her house. As he waved, he noticed a large crow perch on the fence to Abi's house. As if on cue, the bird turned its head towards Abigail, and then to him. Its jet black eyes had a look of menace, swiveling in their sockets in quick quarter turns. It then squawked three more times before flying away, leaving a baffled Henry who felt a strange feeling sweep over him right at that moment.
Chapter 2
Her house was nothing special. The entry way was cluttered with shoes. Each shoe had a purpose, as her mum would say. Abi's shoes were mostly worn to school and her mother had no difficulty noticing the mud from the garden.
'Looks like you have a fun time,' Abi's mother, Augustine Morose said. Augustine and her husband struggled with the English language. As political refugees originally from Eastern Europe, they made every effort, but English isn't ever an easy language for a foreign tongue.
'Sorry, mummy! We were just playing in the back. We got a bit muddy. Sorry.'
'Don't be sorry. Children and dirt is the fun of being a child. Now, don't let your father see your jacket dirt.' Augustine said with a smile as she started to wipe the grass off Abi's school jacket.
'Don't let pa see what?' The voice came from the living room as Abi's father, Alexandro walked over to the entryway. He was an older man. Some may say a bit too old to be Abi's real father, but Augustine never married him for his age. She married him because of the way she felt around him. Alexandro was a kind person who always looked out for his friends and neighbors and often extended this kindnes
s as an example for his child. That's why Augustine loved him. She loved him for his irrefutable kindness.
Alexandro looked at his wife and then at his daughter. He extended a jeweled hand out and ruffled Abi's hair. 'I think mother missed spot cleaning you!'
Abi giggled and hugged her father. She thought he smelled like dried spices and something she couldn't quite place. Abi's father and mother held to the old ways. They tried their best to speak English for Abi so she would have an easier time at school. But it didn't help much. Indeed, Abi was subjected to the prejudices that many immigrants experience. Her only consolation was the friendship she shared with Henry
We have visitors, Abi. Here, come see.' Her father took her by the hand and led her towards the living room.
'Are you sure, Alexandro?' Augustine stopped her husband with a gentle hand on his arm.
'I am. There is a lot at stake here. It would be good for the girl to know the people she...' Alexandro stopped abruptly and squeezed her hand a bit more.
'It is nothing to worry about, Abigail. They are our old friends who shall be happy to see you. Some of them haven't seen you since you this big!' He held up his hand and pinched her nose to emphasize how tiny she might have been.
'Pa! You always say I was that big! I'm a big girl now.' Abigail exclaimed, in her six-year-old stature going on ten in wisdom.
'You are Abi. That you are.' A twinge of pain and sorrow came through in his voice. There was a sadness that Abi could sense, but she couldn't quite grasp why her father would be so sad if he was seeing some of his oldest friends.
Alexandro held Abi's hand and didn't say a word. He stared at her for a bit and his broad smile faded. For a second, he looked a lot older than his forty-five-year-old body normally showed.
'Go. Introduce Abi to them if you must, but time is short.' Augustine said, trying to dissolve the cloud of sadness that had already formed.
'Time? I know all about time. All too well.' Alexandro said, while reconstructing the smile on his face. He took Abi’s hand and led her into the living-room.
