Date: Thu, 22 Dec 2005 04:36:24 +0000
From: Chris Angel <moonknuckle@hotmail.com>
Subject: Legends of Asgarth, chapter one

Author's Notes: I haven't got too much to say here. This is the first
chapter of a erotic/romantic fantasy novel I wrote about a year and a half
ago. The main relationship is between two women, if you don't like that sort
of thing, well, I'd go elsewhere if I were you. I'll send in the rest soon.

Other Stories Written By Me On Nifty -

- The Misadventures of Anna
- The Misadventures of Holly-Raine
- The Misadventures of Kandi
- Smells Like Sapphic Spirit
- Messiah
- Zara
- Shannon
- The Last Saga

Okay, here we go!

**********

It is the breath of life and the blade of ruination,
The seed of birth and fruit of our damnation,
So take great heed when you hear the wind whistle,
What is lies before you is the Starball Crystal.

**********

LEGENDS OF ASGARTH: THE STARBALL CRYSTAL

**********

Chasing the Dragon

Daneira inspected the dragon's footprint with surprised eyes. So it was
true. A dragon actually had escaped from the Great Dragon Mountain caves.
But it was to be expected. Hillwick was the most northern village in the
area. It wasn't the first time a dragon had attacked the settlement and it
most certainly would not be the last. But from the looks of it, this current
dragon attack was much more serious than others.

Daneira studied the footprint keenly, hoping to figure out some details from
what was left. The hideous print was at least ten centimetres deep and
twenty centimetres wide. The two claws that protracted from its scythe-like
foot had bore into also, leaving two wounds into the ground, of equal size
to each other. The print was still fresh, a sign that the dragon was not too
far from this place, and even more encouraging was the fact that there was
no hind claw print, which meant that the dragon itself was not adult. A
fledgling would be far easier to kill. Either way, the determination of
Daneira would not be dejected. It would be a matter of hunting down the
creature and killing it, adult or not.

A chiselled farmer was standing beside Daneira, and he took note of that
curious and adventurous look in her eye. Anyone else who looked upon a
dragon's footprint of this size would have begun quaking like a coward. Not
this child however. Though she was young, the farmer could sense an inner
strength behind the immaturity and beauty. The village lord was right to
request this girl, the farmer could feel it.

"So what are ya thinkin'?" The Farmer questioned in his north Hilburn
accent. "Is that dragon gonna be too much for ya?"

Daneira held a hand to her chin. "Judging by the size of the footprint and
the circular shape of the claw prints, I would imagine that this dragon is
at least 35 years of age. Which is not long, taking a dragon's lifespan into
account. It is still young, after all."

The black-haired girl crouched to her knees and eyed over the print,
pointing to its innards. "Look at those ridges, inside the groove of the
footprint. Those ridges come from the scales of its skin, and if it is that
unsettled... then it has to be a flame dragon. Which spells doom for
Hillwick village if it returns."

"A flame dragon?" The farmer gasped. "Are ya certain, young lass?"

Daneira stood upright. "Positive. It is a flame dragon. I do not doubt it.
But fear not. I can handle this issue. That is what you requested my help
for, correct? All I need is my trusty sword, Claavius, and a dense space
outside the village. The result will be the safety of Hillwick."

"You've got more gumption in your guts than half of the men who came here,
declaring themselves as Dragon Hunters! All the others turned their backs
when they saw the print on the ground."

Daneira's light blue eyes locked onto the dragon's print once more. "Can you
expect less from a Dragon Hunter born in the Danagard Islands? As long as
Claavius stays true to me, I shall turn away from nothing."

"So when are ya gonna chase after it?"

"In a few hours time." Daneira said slowly. "Your other villagers attacked
it, and from the bloodstains around the print, I believe you caused an
injury. From the amount of blood you probably wounded it severely.  It is
now scared and frightened. It knows that stalking the village for food will
no longer be an easy task. It will rest its wings and seek solitude until it
can conceive a plan. It is then that I will strike."

"I understand. So how abouts we return to the village and wait for ya
chance? We got the finest malt beer in all of Wingard! Not to mention some
of the greatest Kings and Dragons players! You are more than welcome to stay
at my brother's Inn until ya feel ready to take on the dragon. "

Daneira smiled as she looked back. "I would like that. Although... you seem
very festive considering the situation. Do you not realize the danger that
the village is in?"

"I know that better than anyone, young lass." The farmer said. "I've seen
more dragons in these parts than most Dragon Hunters see in their
life-spans. It's been a problem ever since I was a child. But I ain't gonna
waste time fretting about it. Life's a gift, my dear. The only thing we need
to be aware of is how we enjoy it."

That was admirable. Daneira smiled once more, as the farmer broke into a
seasoned fit of chortled laughter. Northerners of Wingard always had such
bright views on the way people should live their lives, so much more
satisfying than the south. People in the south were so vain and morbid.
Though the populous was much larger down there, so they had much bigger
problems to worry about. Nevertheless, it was refreshing for Daneira to meet
someone so calm and joyful in this time. Ever since the Thousand Year Wars
ended, the outlook of villagers, vagrants and northerners had been upbeat.
She just hoped that the south was following the idea.

Daneira and the farmer strolled over to their respective horses, both
tethered to the trunk of a rather large oak tree. They both mounted swiftly
and rode off into the main dirt road, away from the dragon's footprint
branded into the muddy ground. The journey toward Hillwick was a short one,
maybe only an hour by horse ride, but it was much safer to ride by
horseback. The Thousand Year Wars were more ruinous than any other war
experienced by the people of Asgarth. When the population had been over a
mighty three billion in the year 1770, it had declined to a pitiful one
million (as estimated in the Asgarth mortality study, 2773). The towns,
villages and cities had been numerous in the past, but now had diminished by
such great lengths it was hard to imagine anything more. All you had to do
was walked around the countryside for a while, and you were bound to reach
the ruins of some remote village, razed to the ground by over-zealous
soldiers and epidemic fearing lords. The breadwinners of each family had
gone into war, leaving behind the family to fend for themselves. This left
each family in dire agony, from the loss of their loved ones and the curse
of poverty. The food that should have been given to the hungry and the
sickly was distributed to the soldiers to keep them fit and healthy. This
led to famine, and with the lack of a healthy body, came the shadow of
disease. Plagues such as black fever and Poiseria were particularly ruthless
killers, leaving no one safe, regardless of lineage or income. The increase
in pestilence walking along the dirt roads was the reason the spreading of
disease was so quick.

The chaos caused led to even more problems after the war, as the countryside
and shires were not only plagued by disease, but also by ravenous bandits,
out to rape and pillage as much of the realm as they could handle. This made
journeying out in the open a very unsafe thing to do. Luckily, most of the
bandits were centred within the state of Branwen. Northern counties such as
Hilburn were much harder to roam because of the frequent dragon attacks.

Though the war ended four years ago, it would be centuries before the world
could recover to within an inch of what it had previously been. Still,
Daneira was not concerned with the regeneration of Asgarth. She would be
long dead before that took place. What she was concerned with now was
protecting the people who needed her help, from the dragons. Not only that,
but... other things as well. As the two ridden horses galloped toward the
village of Hillwick, the farmer looked over at Daneira, and spoke as best he
could.

"So, young lass!" The farmer had to yell loudly due to the wind and the
roaring of the horse's hooves. "How are ya at Kings and Dragons? Ya seemed
excited when I told ya about our fine players in Hillwick!"
Daneira yelled back, keeping her eyes on the road and gripping tightly at
the reins.  "I was a fairly accomplished player back in my hometown of
E'milliss. A great deal of people challenged me to matches in my spare time.
It keeps me entertained."

"Who taught you how to play?"

At that point, Daneira's eyes seemed to widen in thought, and then lower in
a brief sadness. Though it was a quick change of demeanour, the farmer
picked up on it and wondered if he had trod on a sore spot.

"Did I say something wrong...?" The farmer asked.

Daneira noticed the farmer's concern. "No. It is fine. My brother taught me.
Varius Midland."

The two then let the conversation end at that, both unwilling to think any
more about it. The ride back to Hillwick was slightly shorter than the ride
to the footprints, whether this was Daneira's imagination or not, it didn't
really matter. Daneira and her farming companion slowed the galloping of
their horses to a slow trot. The dirt road shortly became the smooth path of
a cobblestone road, and they realized that their brief ride was over. The
village of Hillwick was very different from most northern villages. Whereas
other settlements to the north had a very rural look and feel, the design of
this village had clearly been inspired by the great cities of the south. It
had a particularly `Thanadorian' style to it, the cobblestone roads
separating the strong wooden houses staked into the ground. A stone well was
located in the middle of the town square, giving easy access to a plentiful
water supply. But unlike the individuality of the Thanadorian people,
Hillwick citizens were friendly and charming, if not a little undignified.
It wasn't unique to Hillwick, however. Generally speaking, the folks in
Hilburn County were friendly. As the two trotted through the middle road, an
eager young girl, running out into his direction from a neighbouring wooden
house, greeted the farmer.

"Daddy! Daddy!" She cried. "I'm so glad you're back! Mama said you'd be in
danger!"

The farmer pulled at the reins for his horse to stop, hopped off the saddle,
and wrapped his arms around his little daughter, who was now breaking into
light sobs.

"It's okay, Nari..." The farmer said soothingly. "Daddy's fine. Remember what
we talked about? No tears. If anything happens to Daddy, ya have to be
strong for Mama."

Nari snivelled, rubbing her eyes as her father hugged her. "I promise,
Daddy. I'll be strong."

Daneira smiled at the two of them. It was nice to see such a caring father.
Not only one who was caring, but also aware of reality. Teaching children to
deal with the pain and inevitability of loss was a must, especially in such
uncertain times. Post-war Asgarth was not a pleasant place to live in. The
farmer looked around at Daneira, who had just dismounted.

"My brother's inn, the Dancing Gale, is just a few streets away." He said.
"There's a stable right next to it. Give ya horse a rest and then ya can
head in for a drink and some grub."

Daneira blinked. "You are not coming with me?"

"I had to abandon my farm after the dragon attacked Hillwick. My wife and
daughter are living here with me until the thing is destroyed. But that farm
is my life. I've gotta make sure that it's not burned to the beams. If it is
then my family and I are finished. Though I'm nervous about it, I have go
there. It's up to me to do this. The only reason I came back to Hillwick now
was to make sure that my family was in good graces."

"I see." Daneira nodded. "Rest assured that I will eliminate the dragon for
you."

The farmer grinned. "You betcha. The sixty gold pieces we spend on you will
not be wasted, I'm sure."

The farmer bobbed his head as a parting greeting, then strode away in the
other direction, with his little girl in his arms. Farming was a very taxing
profession. But then again, it was less of a profession and more of a way of
life. You could see evidence of that notion with the farmer. His duty was
taking care of his livelihood, which was the anchor of his family's
security. If not for that, then his wife and daughter would suffer an even
greater poverty than even Daneira could imagine. It gave Daneira a nostalgic
tingle to think about that. About people fighting the thin gap between life
and death, prosperity and ruin. She herself came from humble backgrounds, so
Daneira was fully aware of the struggle for rural folk.

The dragon-huntress clasped the reins of her white Branwenish thoroughbred
horse, Melody, and manoeuvred in the direction that had been given to her,
toward the Dancing Gale. As she walked, Daneira was more than aware of the
numerous stares she was receiving. Men and women, young and old, tall and
thing, all stopped what they were doing and secretively observed the young
stranger. Daneira was right about Hillwick. The village was a community,
very much so. Everyone knew each other, gossiped and gasped amongst
themselves, commenting on the mysterious female knight whom had come to
their humble homestead. Or maybe it was the fact that they were observing a
female knight that was so unsettling. Women had not always been allowed to
carry swords in public, let alone lionize themselves as knights. It was in
the year 2768, shortly before the end of the war, that the law had allowed
women into knighthood. Most had learned to accept this change in the law,
but there were still a few people that objected to female knights. Some
women said it was too unfeminine, some men said women were unfit to wield
the blade, but Daneira took no notice of either of those opinions. All she
was aware of were her duties as a dragon hunter and as a swordfighter.

Regardless of the reason, Daneira ignored the stares she was being cast, and
walked onwards through the spacious cobblestone streets, to the Dancing
Gale. Just like the farmer said, the Inn had a stable just next to it.
Daneira went up to the apprentice horse herder standing by the wooden gate
leading inside the stable.

"You there." She said. "Can you please tend to my horse for me?"

The young boy nodded. "Yes Ma'am. Lord Applebottom as already paid for ya
needs here. She's in good hands."

Daneira nodded in acceptance, then handed the reins over to the horse herder
boy.  Then she looked into his eyes and saw that look of majesty in his
eyes. At first it confused her, but then Daneira understood that those looks
were not given to her, but rather her horse, Melody. The young man gasped
and eyeballed the creature with astounded eyes, lightly stroking Melody's
mane of pearl white hair.

"She's a real beauty, Miss Midland!" The boy said eagerly. "She's so pretty!
I bet she even rides like a queen! What's her name? Where'd ya get her?"

Daneira chuckled at the boy's earnest joy. "Her name is Melody. She is
Branwenish. My father used to breed this type of horse when he lived in
Thyne for a while. It's a small village but it does raise some spectacular
horses. Just be sure to take care of her."

"I can do that!" The boy said happily. "We got the best oats and carrots
around here for her! Just leave it to me!"

Daneira placed one of her gloved hands in the boy's mop of blonde hair, and
ruffled it playfully. From Daneira's estimation, the child could not have
been more than ten years of age, but his love of horses would make him a
great horse herder one day.

"I am sure you will do a fine job."

With that said, Daneira walked out from the stable gates, her horse being
moved inside it, then she came around and entered the double swinging
saloon-like doors of the Dancing Gale. The innards of the inn were less
charming than its outward shell, and to Daneira this place looked as
hospitable as most Wingard inns do. The smell of the place was the first
sign of its roughness. The inn had a gathering hall as most do, a sort of
pub and recreation area built into one, and naturally the climate was thick
with the stink of smoke, ale, and raw mannish sweat. Repugnant was a
suitable word for it, harsh, but suited to the scent. Coarse, bull-like
hulking men, their jaws frazzled with stubble and thick beards, their breath
stinking of downed ale, all chortled with vulgar glee. Their casual banter
filled the room with its loudness, each of them encircling the rounded
wooden tables, stained and dirty from years of abuse. Darting between each
table were three serving girls, giving glasses of ale and plates of steaming
food to each of the humoured townsfolk. The men would break away from their
card games every once in a while to whistle at the serving girls and
belittle them with cheap comments.

Daneira eyed this all with contempt. She loved the countryside and its
people, but this was a side to the northern peasantry that she was not
insanely happy with. Many a head turned around as Daneira walked into the
inn. The first thing they noticed was her beauty, a buxom young girl, around
the age of  about twenty years. Her cheekbones were high and her cheeks
rosy, her silky raven hair tied was into a ponytail and her piecing sky blue
eyes gave away her for the beautiful young creature that she was.  Some of
those men may have made an attempt to woo her, if not for the second thing
they noticed.

Claavius.

The sword strapped at the side of her belt was an off-putting sight. The
scabbard was made up of metal links and brown dragon leather, probably taken
from the skin of a thunder dragon of Maakenbrood. Its hilt was made of a
very smooth wood; the metal butt was rounded into a sort of steep triangular
arrowhead. The sword Claavius was a brilliant design, maybe even elfish.
Swords of that calibre were often given to great knights; it was not
uncommon to see personal knights of the monarchy wearing such blades. This
gave the clear and downright accurate impression that the foreign brunette
was a skilled blade-master. Though she still had work to do to improve her
skill, they were right in making that assumption.

Daneira took no notice of their glares, and turned to the counter over by
the entrance.

"There is a reservation for me." Daneira said to the innkeeper behind the
wooden counter.

"Right." He replied. "Ya name?"

"Daneira. Daneira Midland."

The innkeeper gasped. "Are ya the dragon hunter? Lord Applebottom has paid
for everything, room, booze and food. Matter of fact, he's back at ya room
waiting for ya. I wouldn't keep him waiting, lass. Go on and see him. It's
room twelve."

Daneira nodded. "Understood."

The dragoon huntress quickly signed her name into the list of borders on the
counter, took the key the innkeeper handed to her, and then made her way
over to the stairs leading up into the actual boarding rooms. As she passed
by the chuckling men at recreation hall, they all cast her magnificent--sized
grins of appreciation. Normally she would have just looked away with
irritation, but she suddenly felt a bit playful. With a sneaky smile, she
ran a hand up through her bangs of black hair, winking at one of the boozers
with cheek. The drunkard men all burst out with a chorus of cheer, clinking
their mugs of malt beer in appreciation. Daneira walked up the stairs, the
laughter and shouting now fading into the background, as she strode up,
reaching the second level. With her strong eyes set on each door, Daneira
began to count down each one to her door, number twelve, until she finally
caught sight of it.

The swordswoman from E'milliss slotted the iron key into its lock, and then
turned, pushing open the creaking oak wood door.  Standing at the far side
of the room, next to the bed, with three pike men standing by his side was
lord Applebottom, the patron of Hillwick. Like most of the Wingard nobility,
he was stout and self-indulgent, his slightly balding head masked by the
feathered hat that he wore. The beady eyes observed Daneira with interest,
but made sure to sound as professional as possible.

"Welcome to Hillwick, Daneira Midland." Applebottom said. "I trust your
journey was without problems."

"It was. Despite the zealous nature of the Sea Lords, the boat ride to
mainland Hilburn was fine. But then my ease of travel is not the issue. The
issue is the dragon which is attacking your village."

Applebottom confirmed that with a slap of his bloated belly. "Correct. I
trust you have seen the dragon's footprints outside of the village?"

"I have." Daneira walked over to the chair at the left side of the room,
taking a seat. "They end just as the dirt path leads up to the mountain
regions. I am assuming that it has a cave somewhere. If it took flight to
get there, then it must be injured. Give me a few hours and I am sure I will
have it killed."

"I'm sure you will." Applebottom agreed. "I do not reach into the coffers of
Hillwick and withdraw sixty gold pieces everyday."

Daneira picked up on the subtext, but did not address it. "...I will need a
favour from you. If there is a chance that I fall in battle, you will have
no immediate protection from the dragon. You need to evacuate the people if
it comes back. As quickly as it comes."

Applebottom smiled deviously, running his hand through his grey beard. "But
of course... my... ultimate mission is to protect the lives of those living in
my village. For years the Applebottom family has been protecting this region
from dragons. You needn't ask me to perform a duty I am so thoroughly aware
of."

"I just need to be sure of that."

Two of the pike men whispered to each other while Daneira and Applebottom
continued to discuss things.

"Trust a woman to be so emotional about people." One said. The other laughed
under his breath. "What more do you expect? Such a wench don't know her
place anymore. All these lasses playing at being a knight is a bleeding
joke! Stick `um in kitchen and make `um roast some pig is what I say."

Daneira remained unaware of what the two pike men were saying. "Thank you
for the support you have extended to me, Lord Applebottom."

"Not a trouble. You have the townsfolk in quite a stir, I should say. Your
natural talents and considerable beauty, Daneira Midland, have bewitched
them all. So much so that they left you a chest of goods to aid you and
present their thanks."

Daneira looked around Lord Applebottom to the large iron chest that was
located behind the two chatting pike men guards. As the realized that there
was attention being drawn to them, they dispensed with the idle banter and
separated, giving the brunette woman a clear view of the chest. Lord
Applebottom nodded his head to the door, still stroking his beard. The three
pike men understood and marched towards the door, past Daneira.

"Good luck, Miss Midland." Lord Applebottom said as he left. "May you
triumph over the dragon in the name of King Richard XII and the Asmangard
Empire."

The door slammed shut, and Applebottom and his pike men were gone. Daneira
unbuckled the belt surrounding her waist, putting it and her sword down
against the straw bed she would (hopefully) be sleeping on later. Her hands
reached for the chest as she crouched down to open it, thankfully it was not
locked. The half-cylinder lid opened with a just a fragile touch, and
Daneira marvelled at the goods that had been entrusted to her. Inside the
chest was an Iron Claw, a sort of rope with a metal three-pointed hook
attached to it, a tool for climbing. There was also a bottle of Hilburn
tonic, and a set of three maps.

One of those maps was of the entire world of Asgarth, giving a brief
overview of each of its three countries, the populated Wingard, the deserted
wilderness of Naragard and the sparsely charted, monster filled land of
Marrengard. The second map was of Wingard as a whole, and the third map of
the surrounding area. Daneira was most grateful for those maps, so far she
had been getting by only through word of mouth. These maps would help her
greatly, as Wingard was no easy land to travel across.

Wingard, the largest and most cherished country in Asgarth, was divided into
six regions. One was Hilburn, the region that Daneira was presently in. The
second was Branwen, the largest of all regions of Wingard. The third was
Highdorn, an icy wasteland to the northeast. The forth was Maakenbrood, a
vile swampy marshland to the far east. The fifth was Asmondell, which was
south of Branwen and home to the largest city in the world, Mir Khan. The
sixth and final region was Thanadoria, a tropical forest area, and home to
the majority of Wingard's human populous. As soon as business was taken care
of in this village, she planned to move on to Branwen.

But as Daneira looked deeper into the chest, she saw that there was
something there that just did not seem normal. Or, more accurately, two
things. One was an oval shaped gemstone; something that Daneira guessed was
ancient crystallized dragon blood. The second was an unusually shaped piece
of metal. It was a rod, with two spikes protruding out from its tip. It was
inscribed with some very strange writing on it as well. These words were;

"Hyke mir nador kami li lo'ther nol mor."

Daneira had no idea what those words meant, but the language sounded
ancient. It this were an ancient artefact then it would fetch a great deal
of money from a travelling merchant. Still, it did beg the question, why
would someone leave a precious thing like this to her? And what's more,
Daneira couldn't get the strange feeling of... familiarity out of her head
when she saw this item. How would she know about something like this when
she had never seen it before in her life? Nothing seemed to be answerable
now. The young dragon huntress took the items from the chest and placed them
on her bed. Then, just as Daneira was about to spread herself over the bed,
she heard a most chilling sound.

Her ears were alert and her eyes were wide as a screeching, piercing roar
could be heard, ringing around the room like a bat's echo in a cave. In that
very instant, Daneira stood up, grabbing her sword and rushing for the door.
She knew that scream quite well. It was the scream of a teenage flame dragon
on the prowl.

Daneira strapped on her sword belt and ran down the stairs as fast as she
could, the once joyous and haughty sound of male laughter was now silenced
for the more appropriate sound of gasps amid silence. Daneira noticed them
not and ran out of the inn, through the double revolving doors. Her feet
touched the cobblestone road, and her head revolved around to see a sight
she had not seen in the last two months. In the middle of the large road,
shrieking and bellowing, thrashing its titanic head was the preying flame
dragon, the very same one that had been attacking Hillwick. Daneira studied
the flame dragon bit by bit. Its massive head was elongated and drawn out
into the shape of a snout, on occasion releasing a gust of smoky air from
its cavernous nostrils. Its long set of jagged teeth looked sharp and
tearing, as piercing as any sword created by the greatest blacksmith. Its
rigid skin was stern and oily, a very blunt red, giving it away for what it
indeed was, a flame dragon. Its wings, though retracted, were mighty,
Daneira mused upon the idea that it could reach as far as Highdorn in only a
day's flight. Like most northern dragons, it had a powerful set of arms,
three talon-like fingers, as polished as ivory, made up its rending claws,
and its tail thrashed around the cobblestone ground, smashing into the
abandoned hey carts and stalls of street. The townsmen had all disappeared
into her homes, taking shelter from the beast. Though the odd scream from a
frightened wife or infant could still be heard.

The flame dragon roared once more, its anger sending chills of fear and
thrill down Daneira's spine. This was it. The time was right to finish off
the dragon, making sure that it could never harm anyone again. The dragon
huntress drew her sword, her eyes locked on the dragon. Its attention seemed
to be focused on the corpse of a townsman it had just killed. With its long
mouth, it snapped up its newly created meal and bellowed once more with
satisfaction from tasting man-meat.

"I have to get it out of the village!" Daneira yelled.

The brunette ran around the side street of the inn, through the thin alley
and toward the back of the building. She quickly observed something that
could get her up to the roof of the building, a ladder, and then ran to
retrieve it. Daneira sheathed her blade and held the long ladder with both
hands, dragging it from its position on the floor to rest it against the
back wall of the inn. Another of the dragon's shrieks could be heard,
alongside the pounding sound of footsteps. Daneira realized that it was on
the move, so swiftly began climbing the rungs of the ladder, inching higher
and higher up the wooden tool. Eventually she reached the top of the roof,
and climbed off the ladder, giving her a better view of the situation. The
dragon was moving slowly down the street, each step it took left behind the
large sound of thumping. Daneira un-sheathed her sword once more, and ran
across the roof of the inn, jumping over the gaps between each house and
building. Soon she was side by side with the hulking flame dragon once more.

"I have to wound it." Daneira mumbled to herself. "I have to scare it away
from the village. Then I am free to fight it in any way I choose."

A surge of adrenalin rushed through Daneira, as she stepped backwards, and
readied herself. The swordswoman than ran forward, screaming a terrifying
war cry, and leapt off the edge of the roof. Daneira grabbed her sword by
both hands and aimed it downwards, as she descended towards the head of the
flame dragon. In one lethal swipe, Daneira slashed at the beast's head,
slicing right along the skull, through the thin black eye and along the jaw.

The dragon shrieked with fury and pain, as steel cut through its dark right
eye, blinding it from one side. Blood splattered across Daneira's leather
and metal armour, and she fell clumsily into a thrashed hey cart with a
thump.

The dragon clasped at the side of its sliced face and continued to scream,
and in its outright anger, opened its wide jaws. Though Daneira's senses had
been rattled by the fall, she could easily smell that fiendish stink of
sulphur.  And she knew what that meant. Daneira gasped, and jumped out of
the cart as best she could, diving into one of the streets that offshoot
from the main one. A second later, a huge gust of searing hot fire blew out
from the flame dragon's mouth, straight down the street for at least thirty
meters ahead. The fire set the neighbouring hey carts alight, and burned the
butcher shop at the end of the road. A huge fire rose up from the remains,
the surrounding shops then caught fire and in a short few seconds, the
inferno began to spread. The consumers inside the shops ran out as fast as
they could, screaming and shouting, their flesh singed by the raw heat of
the dragon fire. The dragon itself opened its massive wings, the
lizard-flesh extending with ease. It began flapping its wings, creating a
huge gust, which blew embers and fire across the village, into other
streets. Daneira's ponytail blew back in the wind, the force of the dragon's
wings were so powerful that she could barely move forward.

After giving another cry, the dragon flew upwards, launching itself into the
now warm air. It screamed once more as it hovered over the town, then flew
away to the northwest. Daneira watched it escape with regretful eyes. The
beast had gotten away. But there was something more urgent that needed to be
taken care of and that was the fire that was rising in Hillwick. Daneira
didn't even think to sheath her sword, as she ran out of the alley and back
into the main road, which was now littered with fire. The brunette dashed
along the road; keeping her mouth closed to protect her throat from the
smoke, staying as close to the buildings as she possibly could. She reached
the inn, and stormed in, to see that most of the men had remained as they
were, hiding inside.

"Quick!" Daneira yelled. "The village is on fire! You have to get to the
village well and put out the fire as quickly as you can!"

The men nodded in agreement, and all stormed out the inn doors to get to the
well. Daneira did not follow them, she instead ran up the stairs, towards
her bedroom, and kicked open the door with authority. She scrambled to the
bed, and grabbed the Iron Claw that had been given to her as a gift by the
townsfolk. It would definitely be useful. In her haste, Daneira did not
notice that the town bells were ringing, probably as a sign of emergency.
She just ran out the door and down the stairs again, sheathing her sword and
trying the Iron Claw around her waist. Daneira left the inn, and circled
around to the stable, to Harmony. The poor horse had been shocked by the
events, and was no bucking and wailing inside the stable, probably from the
heat. When it saw Daneira, Harmony calmed down, but was still restless.
Daneira kicked open the ramshackle gate of the stable, and undid the knot
that was tying Harmony's reins to the wall. In seconds it was free, and
Daneira quickly mounted her steed, riding out of the stable and back into
the main street. While the townsfolk did their best to put out the fire,
Daneira rode out of the village, toward the northeast. It was the direction
that dragon had left in. She and the dragon had some unfinished business to
attend to.

**********

Nephalie sighed at that at monotonous sound of horse hooves clicking against
the ground and cartwheels rolling along to the beat. The journey from the
east seaport was longer than she had expected it to be. And at the current
speed that the cart was moving, it seemed like she would never reach the
town of Thyne. The state of Branwen was not far from their first stop,
Hillwick village, but it was going to be very difficult to reach Branwen
from their current position. Not that she was in any hurry to reach
destination. But she did not have any desire to travel in such rough
conditions. With such company. Nephalie looked over at the female guard who
had been accompanying her inside this horse drawn cart. She was a typical
guard, armed with a long spear and a short dagger at her waist, wearing
Branwen style clothes. Though she was not looking, Nephalie could feel the
guard eying her up and down, observing her smooth long legs and innocent
body, rationing her lust on simple glimpses of Nephalie's oblivious
seductiveness.

Those lusty stares made Nephalie uncomfortable, but her demeanour did not
show this. By now she had become accustomed to such stares, and furthermore,
she was not ignorant of her own beauty. The mysterious Nephalie was defined
as angelic at the least, long braided blonde hair framing her face so
sweetly, a curvy and desirable body to match it, and innocence that children
would have trouble emulating. But what made Nephalie so alluring was the
peculiarity of her. There was a spiritual air of gentleness and latent power
surrounding her. But the strangeness was not merely spiritual. Physically
she was... different to other women. Her eyes were tinted with a very rare
eye colour, gold, and her ears were pointed, in the same way that you expect
to see an elf's ears. But unlike an elf, she was clearly mortal. There was
something about Nephalie that made her special... different.

The guard suddenly spoke. "I trust you feel comfortable."

"I... I feel fine." Nephalie replied.

"Good." The guard grinned. "I would not want Celesbe to think that I'm not
taking adequate care of you. You have to be one of the most sought after
women under her influence. I cannot believe that she went to so much effort
to seize you... but from the looks of you... I can understand her lust."

Nephalie said nothing. The guard didn't take that in a negative way, and
smiled as a new idea came to her mind. Without saying anything, the female
guard placed her spear to one side, moving over to Nephalie, who was sitting
in the corner of the indoor carriage. The guard moved up to the young girl,
tossing her eyes over that wondrous body once more.

"You are so beautiful..." She crooned.

Nephalie looked out the window of the cart as the guard moved against her.
In seconds she could feel the female guard's lips gently kissing the tender
flesh of her neck. But Nephalie said nothing against it, just looking out
with blank, almost soulless eyes.

After a moment, she spoke. "I am not your property."

"I know that..." The guard said, drawing back. "You belong to Celesbe. You
are just another puppet for the Slave Guild. But even slaves can keep
secrets. And even slaves need to enjoy the many pleasures of the flesh..."

The guard was just about to lean into Nephalie's neck once more, until she
heard the distinct sound of a roar. Both Nephalie and the guard looked up in
alertness, as the roar was repeated, this time much louder, as if something
was closing in on the carriage. The carriage came to stop, the horse in
front began screaming with frustration, and the guard realized that there
might be a problem. The female guard grabbed her spear, and then opened the
door to the outside.

"Stay in here." She said sternly to Nephalie. The young slave girl just
nodded. The guard stepped out of the carriage to inspect the problem. It was
not long before Nephalie heard a scream. It was not that of the guard, but
rather that of the driver, but in seconds, the guard's death cry could be
heard along the winds. Nephalie stuck her head out of the carriage's open
window to see what might be happening, and gasped in alarm as she saw the
killer, in all its glory.

A huge flame dragon, loomed over the road, the driver's corpse beneath its
right foot, and the guard's torso between it powerful lined jaws. It had
been blinded on one side of its face, darkening blood seeped out of its
closed eye, but that did nothing to quell its appetite. Nephalie looked on
in horror as the flame dragon gobbled up the guard in one swift motion. It
then looked downwards at the driver, who was murmuring and groaning to
herself. In a second fast motion, the dragon tore the upper body of the
driver in half, munching down on the much sought after delicacy of dragons,
human meat. While the dragon devoured its meal, Nephalie scrambled out of
the carriage and ran for her life. Though she was breaking orders by running
away, it was apparent that she didn't have much choice. The dragon looked up
from what was left of the driver's bloody remains, and watched Nephalie run
in the opposite direction.

It released one of those powerful roars once more, separating its wide jaws,
and let loose a burning ball of dragon fire in her direction. Nephalie
looked back as she ran, seeing that she was about to be burned alive by that
ball of flames. But just when the end seemed at hand, a flash of an image
dove into her, and that flash was a person. The two tumbled out of the line
of fire, into the thick bushes in the forest surrounding the roadside.
Nephalie's body rolled into the dirt, a slightly larger body cradling her
own. With the dragon's roars in the background, Nephalie looked up at the
person whom had saved her. It was woman, a taller woman, maybe a few years
older than she was. The taller woman shook her head a bit, obviously to
shake off the effects of the dive, then looked down at Nephalie with
concerned eyes.

"Are you unharmed?" The black-haired heroine asked.

Nephalie nodded, unable to say anything. The brunette smiled, then looked
back into the main road as the dragon bellowed another scream. She quickly
dismounted her position on Nephalie, and then helped the slightly shorter
girl up to her feet.

"Listen." Started the brunette. "If that dragon kills me, run through the
forest toward the southeast. There's a village nearby called Hillwick. It is
in a bit of a state but you'll be safer there. Do you understand me?"

Nephalie just nodded, still unable to speak. The brunette patted Nephalie on
the shoulder, then drew her sword and ran out into the main road. Nephalie
did not follow, but moved to the edge of the concealing bushes and trees to
watch what would become of this courageous woman. She smiled arrogantly, as
the flame dragon loomed across, a slight gap separating them from each
other.

"So!" The girl said to the dragon, her head looking up. "You thought you'd
slaughter another innocent girl to enhance your already numerous tally, eh?
I can guess that you did not assume you'd run in to me when you tried this!"

Nephalie blinked. Was that woman insane? How could she just stand there like
that when a huge dragon was about to feast upon her too? All she had to
defend herself was a sword. What could that one girl do? Nephalie was about
to get her answer. The dragon roared with fury, its scream echoing across
the surrounding forestland. The black-haired woman charged at the beast,
both hands wrapped around the hilt of her sword, dashing across the dirt
path with no fear or uncertainty. The dragon opened its wide jaws once more
and spewed a fresh batch of its burning hot breath. The brunette dove to the
left with all her body, rolling out of the stream of the fire. She rolled
back up onto her feet, and charged at the dragon once more. In retaliation,
the dragon hurled another blast of flames in her direction. Like before, the
swordswoman dove to the side, but this time the right, tumbling across the
dusty road etched into the forest.

The dragon screamed with frustration, and blew another stream of singeing
fire at the woman. She did not dive to any side this time, she rolled
forward, her sword arm extended during the roll. Neither Nephalie nor the
dragon had realized that she had been baiting it into a better position. Now
the girl was directly below the dragon, to close to hit with fire and too
far down to attack with it claws. The brunette yelled a fierce war cry,
gripped her sword tightly, and then thrust the blade into the skin, muscle
and bone of the dragon's right leg.

The mammoth creature cried out as sharp steel tore through the matter of its
leg and ripped back out, slightly hindering its ability to walk. The dragon
continued to howl like a dying banshee, while the brunette ran through the
gap of its legs. But she did not count on the furious thrashing of the tail,
and gasped as the long body part knocked her off her feet. The girl
collapsed to the ground, dropping her sword from the sudden shock. The
dragon ambled its body around, realizing that the girl had ran between its
own legs, and then roared menacingly at the downed fighter. His mouth
snapped open like before, a typhoon of flames shooting out of its mouth. The
girl seemed to act on nothing but instinct, as she tumbled out of the way,
rolling as fast as she seemed to be able to do. The girl looked up and
turned her gaze to the newly erected fire. It cut her off from her sword,
which made her defenceless.

Nephalie began to worry that the girl who saved her was in trouble, and
thought about running out there to help her. But she knew full well that she
would do more harm than good. Nephalie remained as she was, poised on the
ground in the bushes, watching this all happen before her frightened eyes.

The girl battling the dragon darted her eyes back and forth between the
sword, blocked by fire, and the dragon, who was slowly moving closer to her.
She seemed to have no time to think, so simply acted, and ran back towards
the carriage that Nephalie had been travelling in, just a bit further up the
road. The dragon followed as best it could, its leg wounded from the woman's
previous assault. The girl stopped as she reached the carriage and the two
dead bodies lying next to it. In her haste, she quickly grabbed the spear
that the guard had been carrying, taking it up in one swoop. The girl looked
back and saw the dragon towering over her, and then flipped forward to avoid
the surge of fire that was about to come. The dragon acted in such a way,
breathing more of its vile flame breath, razing the poor carriage with
venomous fury. It went up in flames, destroying anything and everything that
was inside it. But the girl still showed no fear, and drew back the arm
holding the spear. With a might thrust, she flung the spear at the dragon,
which pierced the somewhat fragile tissue of its right wing.

Nephalie could tell that spears were not the girl's strong point, as the
throw was awkwardly aimed, but it did its job. The dragon screamed another
fearsome scream as the spear was embedded in its wing, taking its focus off
the girl it was pursuing. The brunette took the opportunity, and ran hard
back to her blade, now that the dragon was not in the way. She didn't stop
running, just swiftly ran by, leaned down, grabbed the sword and ran back
around, without stopping. Her feet slid against the dusty ground, and for a
small instant, she had to get her breath back. The distance between herself
and the dragon began to decline again as it turned around to chase the girl,
still relentless in its desire for her blood. The girl stood defiantly,
gasping for breath, then threw caution to the wind and charged the fiend for
a second time. The dragon screeched again, perhaps out of irritation from
this girl's obstinate attitude and breathed more burning fire. The brunette
ran around the path of the flames, and then ran back into position, still
charging at the dragon. She stopped as she reached that position between its
legs again, and then attacked the leg she had previously stabbed. This blow
was much fiercer than the last, and it cut through the thick leg with
ruthless aggression. The woman rolled to the right to escape the incoming
fall, as the dragon found it could no longer balance its weight on the
injured leg. It crashed into the ground, whipping up a gust of dirty dust
and screaming a black howl of what some might call, realization of defeat.

The girl ran around the downed body of the dragon and screamed once more,
heaving her sword into the air. She aimed the tip of her blade downwards,
toward the neck of the beast, and poised herself to strike.

"Feel the agony of those you've destroyed!"

The magnificent steel blade was thrust downwards, till it pieced the rough
hide of the dragon's neck, stabbing through its trachea. The dragon gurgled
a bloody roar, choking on its own blood. The girl ripped her blade free of
the dragon's neck as its writhing body fell limp. She backed up, dropped the
sword, and collapsed to the ground, her energy spent. Nephalie's golden eyes
looked at this in worry, and ran out of the bushes to help the tired
warrior. She ran as fast as she could, and then crouched down to inspect the
girl's condition.

Nephalie held a hand to her head, and slotted her arm under the brunette's
neck, pulling the other girl upwards from the waist. She was awake, but
severely tired.

"Are you hurt?" Nephalie asked caringly.

The brunette shook her head slowly. "...No, but you should not worry about
me."

"But you just saved my life..."

The brunette coughed. "I... couldn't save the other two though... because of
my carelessness... I should not have assumed that the dragon would retreat
to its lair..."

Truth be told, Nephalie didn't really know what to make of that, so just
avoided the issue by introducing herself.  "My name is Nephalie M'dale."

"...Daneira Midland." Daneira replied tiredly. "Nice to make your
acquaintance, miss M'dale."

And so, on that day, the dragon huntress, Daneira Midland, met the slave
girl, Nephalie M'dale. Though it seemed like their meeting was by chance, it
was fate that had brought them together.

**********