Chapter 1 – Awakening.
It really wasn’t something that Myne had expected to fall into her lap.
Especially since the bounty had only been out for a few weeks, rumours of the witch’s movements only recently resurfacing.
There was no way that she was going to pass on it though. It was the chance of a life time after all. Sure, she had apparently killed some dragon riders, but that was nearly a myth, something that had happened over twenty years ago, and never since. She would show her peers and the lady knights what she was capable of.
She was going to single handily capture Lyrissa the Witch.
Myne smiled to herself as she raced across the complex of Southern Temple of the Sisters of the Radiant Dawn, her heart already pumping, her onyx aspected magic flowing through her and reinforcing her body, battle senses at the ready. None of the other riders seemed to have noticed yet, still meandering and lazying about in what was a glorious day, but that would just work to her advantage. Her dragon familiar wasn’t the biggest, but he was one of the fastest, which would just increase her head start. It wasn’t like the sensing wards were hers or anything either. She was just a little more sensitive to them than the others.
She had felt the spike all to clearly, and even the region from which it had come. The wards were old, and not well understood at all, but their purpose was clear. To sense and alert the dragon riders when powerful dark magic was detected within the kingdom of Avaraline. Dark magic like demons, powerful night beasts, and the infamous witch. It was rare that they went off. Incursions by demons almost none existent, and few night beasts had the level of power necessary to trigger it. Mind you, when they did, it was always a team of lady knights that went to make short work of the monster. The wards had triggered enough times since she had awakened as a dragon rider that she recognized it for what it was, the certainty as to the cause an aspect of her magic.
Myne whistled as she reached the dragon stables, her familiar Vel’nas giving a roar in response, just as eager for the challenge as she was. Feedback from their bond, the understanding there between them. Sprinting into his stable, she yanked the saddles off their hook and all but throwing them over his back, then leaping up there herself, making sure that the bags were secure enough as the emerald dragon made his way out of the stable and into the clear area outside.
Checking to make sure that there was no one in the way, she leaned down close against her dragon, feeling his warmth and strength.
“Let’s go get her,” she whispered to Vel’nas. The words didn’t mean much to the dragon, but he’d understand her intent.
Stretching his wings, Vel’nas surged into the air.
The landscape flowed by quickly underneath them as they flew south east, the cold of the wind of little concern due to the enchantments on the skeon that she wore, and the sheer mass of her dragon. Average in size amongst the dragons of the Dragon Rider clan, he stood at twice her height, with a wingspan twice that again. He had been only half that size when he’d been summoned from her magic and bonded during her awakening, but his growth since then had been rather impressive.Irrespective of what others thought of his breed, she was more than proud of him, and wouldn’t want any other familiar by her side. Not that that was a choice, but her view on that was clear nether the less, Vel’nas emitting a happy rumble in response.
She could see the mass of the Weeping Forests stretching out along the horizon, the area that the signal had come from. It coated the entire southern tip of the kingdom, stretching along the a part of the border with the Southern Peaks, and then up along the Horstern Cliffs till they finally flattened out into the beaches against the Circle Sea. From memory, there was only one village that was situated near the forest itself, an old mining settlement with residents that were too stubborn to move, even though the mythril veins had long been exhausted and the rest of the kingdom considered the forest to be cursed. The forests were after all thick and dark, damp with as many vines and brambling bushes as tall trees, mists the norm. Not even the lumberjacks of the guild bothered with it.
With the flight taking around two hours, it was mid afternoon by the time Myne and Vel'nas reached their destination, dust billowing around them as Vel'nas landed on the dry farmland of Evergreen. It’s name had long since expired, but she was surprised at just how run down it seemed. Weathered and well past it’s prime. The bulk of the houses had boards that were warped and cracked, with a few that had been mostly stripped for materials to do the patchwork repair on the remainder, nothing more than skeletons for the winds to whistle through. The barns were mostly filled with just shadows and the animals looked thin and pathetic, scrounging around their paddocks for what food that they could find or lounging in the shade. To the east of the village she could see the remains of a mine shaft along with the skeletons of some mining huts and a refining plant, the reason the village was originally founded on such poor terrain.
Surely at the least there would be some shardlings present in the village to help maintain it. While they were the weakest form of magic, they were also the most common, and a bit of wood aspected magic could do wonders for maintaining a house. Ditto for water aspected magic at helping coax the water to go where you wanted it to. Small, sometimes almost inconsequential powers, but enough to make life that little bit easier. Definitely made lighting fires easier if you had a fire shardling. Unless of course the villagers weren’t all as stubborn as she’d assumed, and those who could had fled to the bigger cities to work for the guilds or the clan, leaving behind those who would not or could not go.
She’d find out soon enough though. Her arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed. A dragon landing in your back yard tended to do that. Locating the group of villagers that appeared to be giving her the most attention, and looked like they might have some importance, that whole aged and wiser thing, she wandered over as Vel’nas sat where he’d landed and watched. He’d be fine. People knew not to bother familiars, they tended to not be friendly to others. It was time for her to locate the witch.
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Izen coughed, trying to clear the dust out of his throat, as he waved his hand to try and shoo some of it away. It didn’t work of course. There was just too much of it flooding around him, the air now thick and brown. Just his luck that he’d been scrounging around one of the old fields, trying to find the remains of one of the waste water pipes that ran from the long abandoned mythril mine when the rider had landed. The pipes hadn’t been used in a long time, and were quite likely eroded beyond usefulness, but he wouldn’t know unless he looked, and he needed it for his current irrigation project. Their yields from the fields were steadily dropping, even in the last few months, and things were starting to get a lot more desperate. He’d already exhausted all of the other options.
It wouldn’t have been as bad had some of the shardlings stayed in the village, but they’d all left, taken by the guilds most recent recruiting drive. Even the mayors daughter. Not that he was surprised, surviving was definitely a higher priority than blood ties. Heck, even he’d have left if he’d had the chance, but having no trace of magic in him at all, no one had been willing to take him. Izen sighed, the memory a bitter one.
Picking himself up, Izen moved off to the side, trying to get out of the dust cloud, another beat of the dragon’s wings causing him to stumble backwards. There was certainly a lot of power in that creature, not that he’d even been that close to one before. One didn’t get close to a riders familiar, if you valued your limbs. Bracing himself for any more gusts, he was pleased when no more came, the dust finally settling around him. He then almost stumbled back again when he realised just how close to the creature he was. It hadn’t landed that close, he’d definitely seen it set down in the next field over before he’d ducked down to try and avoid the worst of the fallout. But now it was right there beside him, within touching distance, its ruby eyes staring at him, the hint of intelligence within them.
It was a beautiful creature, and every bit the traditional dragon. He’d read about a few outliers, but the form of this one was pretty much perfect, it’s body speaking of power and speed. It’s leathery wings a deep forest green, scales deep sea emerald green, and claws a jet black. An emerald dragon. Considered to be one of the weaker species of familiar if you believed the rankings that had been compiled over the centuries that dragon riders had existed for, but looking at this one Izen certainly didn’t believe that.
“Good boy,” he said carefully, trying to mask the fear in his voice, as he slowly stepped back. As much as he liked the creatures, he certainly didn’t want to end up as a dragon’s snack, and he really had no idea what one should do if you ended up this close by accident.
The dragon just continued to look at him, with what seemed to be an amused grin.
Gaining a bit of confidence, he took a few more steps back, and then started walking back towards the village. He breathed a sigh of relief when the dragon just sat there. There was no way that he’d be able to resume his search for the pipe though. Bending over briefly to grab his shovel from where it had been blown, he made his way back to the centre of the village itself, stopping in the shade of what had once been Alruns Tradehouse. It hadn’t been that for most of his life though, just a hollow shell that had mostly been stripped. At least it still had its roof. It was typical of the buildings in the town square. What once was busy and thriving was now almost a ghost town.
Izen looked out over the town square.
The rider was easy to spot. She stood out amongst all of the villagers, whom he recognised all of anyways. There weren’t many of them left here after all. The rider was beautiful, stunning even, and he couldn’t help but stare. He may have even been a little jealous. Not that she noticed, deep in conversation with the mayor of the village, most of the older villagers standing around near them. They didn’t really have much else to do after all.
She was tall, her figure both athletic and attractive, with a full chest, shoulder length straight jet black hair, and bronze toned skin. She looked to be around his age. So young all thing considered, given that he was twenty one. He noticed that her eyes were a soft green, glinting in the light as she briefly looked around the town square, but missing his presence, before returning to talking with the mayor. Her clothes, if you could call them that, were skintight, black and shiny, covering all of her body. Skeon if he remembered correctly. The material enchanted well and was the realm of those with plenty of money to burn. Didn’t hide much at all either.
Covering her shoulders, arms and upper back was close fitting armour, almost as snug as the skeon, formed from tiny layered plates that were a pale black with a green tinge. Her knee high boots were also made of the same material. Dragon bone armour, the signature armour of riders, summoned from their magic, and unique to each rider. It suited her well, though it still left the bulk of her body still exposed, and he really didn’t understand how it would actually provide her much protection at all.
He could count on his hands how many times he’d seen a rider. They weren’t that common, being of the gem grade of magic, and they really had no reason to be out here. Feral’s he’d seen a few of, usually with the guilds during their recruitment drives, animalistic features marking that type of gem grade. Probably plenty of casters as well, though without any distinguishing features you couldn’t actually tell that they were of gem grade until they used their power. Mind you, the same applied to lattice souls, the most powerful grade of magic. You were in the dark till they used their power, especially as some of them had features that you’d normally associate with other types. Some lattice souls were also ferals or riders. Even for them though certain fundamentals stayed true. Animalistic features were the realm of ferals, and riders were always female.
That riders grade was definitely gem though. He could fell the presence of her onyx from here, which was unusual in itself. Being able to sense another’s magic usually wasn’t a thing, unnoticed till it was actually used. There was something definitely strange about this one.
But it also wasn’t really of concern to him either. Taking one last look at her, Izen shrugged, and then moved out of the shade of the building, around it and out towards the fields on the forest side of the village. Time was a wasting, and even if he couldn’t get the pipes he was after, he still had a trench to dig. With any luck, and probably a lot more effort, they might be able to get some form of harvest from the field.
Must be nice to be a rider though. Yeah, he was a little jealous.
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The villagers looked at Myne with a mix of awe and worry when she finally made her way to the town square, most then turning and making a show of ignoring her presence. Probably not wanting any trouble, and she couldn’t blame them. Their clothes were not much better than their lodgings, and she struggled to see many that were fully dressed. Those that were she wouldn’t have have said so under normal circumstances. Weathered and well tanned was the most positive description that she could think of for them. The scattering of tools that she could see lying around were just as worn, and to be honest she couldn’t really fathom why the village had managed to survive this long. There was also a lack of young blood, almost everyone that she could see well into their years.
A frail old man, who looked to be the mayor of the village, stood up from his chair under the shade of nearby building, dust falling off him that was likely put their by her landing. He started to make his way slowly and unstably over to her, cane in one hand supporting each step. Knowing she’d be waiting a while she made her way over to him instead.
“To what do we owe your presence young one?” he wheezed, catching his breath.
“I’m looking for a dangerous old lady” Myne stated. “The Witch Lyrissa. We have sensed her presence in this area.”
The old man gave her an odd look. “Old ladies we have a plenty,” he said with a toothless grin, “but none more dangerous than a mouse. I think if your witch was here, we’d be in a much better state than we are.”
Myne glared at the elder, her composure put off by his cheekiness in the present of a dragon rider.
The mayor then looked around at the others nearby. “Know anything about a witch?” he asked.
A chorus of of mumbled no’s, haven’t heard of her, and what’s that, echoed around her.
Myne sighed and shook her head, glancing around the square as the last of the old folk gave their input. It really was a ghost town. For all she knew, all these people could be ghosts, if such things actually existed.
“You’re welcome to look around to your hearts content,” the mayor said once he had her attention again. “Not that we could stop you anyway. I pray that you do not find what you are seeking here, as we do not want the trouble. We have enough of our own as you can surely tell.”
“At the least it is a change of scenery I guess” he added, waving his arm to indicate that she had the freedom to search. Not that she needed it as he had pointed out. She was a Dragon Rider and she would do as she pleased.
“Thank you,” she said anyway. There wasn’t any need to make enemies of these people.
Closing her eyes, she called her magic to her and sent it out from herself, sweeping it out over the village, and then frowned. Something was amiss. It felt as if the entire area was covered in a think mist that was masking everything within it, dampening out any magical signatures. She opened her eyes and looked around. Nothing had changed. The sun was still beating down upon the dust bowl of a village, no mist in sight.
“Any casters or lattice souls in the village?” she asked the mayor.
He laughed sarcastically, coughing from the effort. “No. We’ve never been that lucky, and they’d all be long gone if any had been born here. Not a shred of magic above the baseline.”
The other villages gave her a look like she’d asked the most stupid question ever.
Frowning, she ignored them, and proceeded to wander around town square. When she wasn’t using the sensing magic, her superior version something that was unique to her aspect and that she was quite proud of, everything felt normal.
She returned back to the villages. “Any strange visitors of late?” she queried.
“Any visitors at all?” The mayor shook his head. “No one wants to come here. Apart from you it seems.”
“When did you last have visitors then?”
The mayor thought for a moment. “Half a year ago. The final recruitment.”
Myne did a larger circuit through the village and then walked back to Vel'nas. There was no signs of any other riders yet, which was a good thing, but she was rather miffed at the lack of any progress. Given how sharp the sense had been, she had expected to pretty much run into the witch when she arrived, not be doing circuits through a wasteland. Vel’nas bent down and nuzzled her when she reached him.
Summoning her magic to herself, she doubled the intensity before sending it flowing out again. The haze was there, but this time she could sense something. Somewhere in the outskirts of the village was a source of magic, but it was confusing. Like it existed, but not.
Then another signature popped into existence, sending a shiver down her spine. There was no mistaking that one. Her eyes snapped open. The Witch was definitely in the surrounding area.
Humming softly to herself she sent out tendrils of magic, summoning all nearby dracokin to the location of the witch. Small lizard like creatures and endemic to southern Avaraline, they were thought to be a distant relation to the magical familiars of the riders, and would responded to the calls of talented riders. While it may indeed be cursed, the Weeping Woods was home to a lot of them, and they definitely had their uses. Especially here.
Izen looked along the trench he was digging. He hadn’t made nearly as much progress as he had thought. He was drenched in sweat, which, mixing with the dust from earlier, was making him feel like he was wearing a coating of mud. In fact he probably was. It was turning out to be one of those days. The trench wasn’t easy to dig, this section parched and dry even before you factored in the clay layer underneath. But that also made it suitable for the task that he had in mind.
But at the rate he was going, he was probably going to lose a good half days of work. Even though she wasn’t nearby, the rider was still distracting him, his thoughts wandering.
His concentration was broken by the sound of a strange raspy barking, and looking up towards the forest he saw what appeared to be a strange old lady in a deep green cloak and cane in hand, surrounded by some strange rat like creatures as she tried to make her way towards the village. Every few steps a rat would bark oddly and then lunge at her, and only through a combination stumbling, wild swings of the cane, and sheer luck, was the old lady was avoiding being bitten by them. It was only going to be a matter of time before one of them got her though. Without giving it a second thought he leapt out of the trench he was digging, and shovel in hand, raced towards her, yelling at the creatures to scram. They must have come out of the Weeping Forest, not that he’d ever seen any on his numerous hunting excursions into its depths.
Seeing his approach, the old lady slowed down a little, a grateful expression on her weathered and aged face. Even in the time it took him to get to her, the old lady, by some still continuing miracle, managed to avoid getting bitten by the rats. Pounding across the dusty terrain, Izen took a big swing with his shovel, slamming it into a rat creature and sending it flying back towards the forest edge. Following up with a kick he managed to knock another one onto its back a few feet away, the rat snarling as it got up and lunged back towards him. Which he just stepped out of the way of, shovel deflecting the creature to the side.
Sensing a change in the situation, a number of the rats moved their focus to Izen, attempting to surround him while staying shy of his shovel and his swings at them. The rat creatures seemed off. They weren’t moving and behaving like their stature would suggest, and after his initial success on the first couple, they seemed to have learnt and adapted.
“Keep moving towards the village,” he said to the old lady, trying to draw the rats away from her.
Changing tactic, he feinted a swing with the shovel and a kick, before following up with an uppercut with the shovel, sending another rat careening towards the trees. Building on the advantage, he dropped down, bringing the shovel down heavily with him, pounding another one into the ground and stopping it’s movement.
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And then something changed. He sensed some movement from behind him, turning just in time to spot a rat descending down on him from above. Reacting instinctually, he raised his arm across his face to shield himself. Izen yelled in agony as the claws of the rat gouged deep into his arm, a fiery pain spreading down it. Then something impacted with his head, and he dropped to the ground, everything going black.
Myne leapt onto Vel'nas’ back, sending clouds of dust everywhere as he rose back into the air. Climbing just high enough to gain clear visibility, they flew over the town’s structures and towards the forest edge. As they neared, Myne spotted a figure exiting the forest, surrounded by dracokin, the lizard like creatures unsuccessfully lunging at her, trying to keep her pinned. Whether by luck or skill, the frail old lady seemed to be avoiding every attack, but Myne suspected the latter. Appearances were deceiving, and the Witch was a force to be reckoned with. It was definitely her too, her signature clear and precise.
Myne watched in startled confusion as a young man leapt out of what appeared to be a shallow trench, shovel in hand, and raced towards the old lady. What on earth was he up to. Even the slaves in Avaraline were aware the dracokin bowed to the whims of talented riders. Was he really trying to interfere with her mission?
The young man ran into the fray, and with a swing of his shovel sent one of the dracokin careening into the trees. Myne was both impressed and annoyed. She knew that there would be causalities fighting against the Witch, but that was a necessary price for brining in one as infamous as her. Getting smacked by a shovel though was a different story all together, and not anyone was capable of that feat.
The young man kicked another, but then the dracokin adapted, as they do, and split into two groups, trying to surround both the old lady and the young man. While the young man made some more unsuccessful attacks at the dracokin, the old lady looked up at Myne, and gave her a strange smile.
The witch knew exactly what was going on it seemed. As to who the young man was, and why he was involved, she’d find out soon enough.
The young man altered tactics, catching another dracokin with his shovel and sending it flying. It was time to end this.
Myne jumped off Vel'nas, reinforcing herself with her magic, a small crater forming from her impact with the ground. Commanding the dracokin to attack him from above, she ran towards the man. Reacting to her command, one of the dracokin behind the young man launched itself into the air and then plummeted down. Sensing the threat, the young man spun around, raising his arm in defence, but he was too late. The dracokin racked its claws down his arm, gouging deep, blood pouring out as he yelled out in pain. Closing in from his blind spot, she smacked him in the head, his body slumping to the ground unconscious. She then spun around, her attention on the old lady.
“Such fury young lady.” The old lady spoke in a soft voice, not at all what Myne had expected from the Witch. Myne had expect more of a cackle. Raising one of her arms up, the old lady stepped back. “What ill have we done you...”
“Surrender witch,” Myne interrupted confidently. “I know who you are. Your murderous days are over.”
“I think you’re mistaken Rider,” the old lady replied, still softly and disconsolately. “And you have done this young man of the village a disservice. But as his life hangs in the balance, we will go with you for now.”
The old lady smiled innocently at Myne as she rested her weight on her cane, but in those soft last words she could also sense a command. It didn’t seem right at all. Capturing the infamous witch couldn’t be this easy. But now that she had her, she wasn’t going to let her go.
“Watch her please Vel'nas,” she said of her Familiar. “Should she even move, bite her head off.”
Leaning down, she took a good look at the young man. Like the rest of the villagers he clothes were barely that, and even his boots were only just holding together. His chestnut brown hair was roughly cut like he had tried to do it himself, and his face was almost handsome, if you were that way inclined. He definitely was one of the villagers, even though his muscular frame was on the borderline of what should be possible with the sustenance the village would likely have available. His fighting technique was odd too, and she was actually impressed by what he had managed, though the dracokin that he had hit weren’t so happy with him, growling as the stood at guard around them. His right arm was a shredded mess, blood pooling on the ground. She ripped his shirt off him with ease, intending to use it as a bandage, before she realised exactly how dirty it was. Tossing it away, she carefully made her way around Vel’nas, keeping an eye on the witch, and quickly rummaging around in her saddlebag for something suitable. Pulling out an empty cloth bag, she tore it open, and used it to bandage his arm. It was quickly soaked with blood, but it’d suffice for the moment. She was the wrong alignment to have access to any healing magic, so she’d have to get her back to Cammine or one of the other sisters at the temple complex. She looked back up at the old lady, who just smiled sweetly at her.
“Others will be here shortly,” Myne stated to the old lady, glaring at her and feeling unsettled. At least she hoped so, otherwise she’d have to go with plan B to get them both back, which would be a bit uncomfortable. She did feel a bit bad about the young man though. Hopefully he would survive this. It wasn’t a life threatening wound, but it could complicate.
Something else was off though, and she couldn’t put her finger on it.
Chapter 1 - Awakening
Myne smiled to herself, eager for the challenge. The hunt was on. They finally had a hint as to her the location – Lyrissa the Witch, who had orchestrated the death of many Dragon Riders two decades ago. Massive sensing wards had been set up all over the kingdom, and the one on the south-eastern edge by the Weeping Forest had gone off, her signature clearly showing, sending all available Dragon Riders at the Southern Temple of the Sisters of the Radiant Dawn scrambling. Myne had been the closest to the ward’s chamber at the time, and the quickest to react. She abandoned what she was doing, collected her Dragon Familiar, and took off into the sky. The flight was going to take two hours, but it would pass quickly, the landscape sliding by underneath them as Vel’nas beat his strong wings, Myne resting against his warm body. Behind her she could just make out the other Riders at the temple preparing to leave, but as Vel’nas was one of the fastest amongst those there, it would be some time before they caught up, probably after she had arrived at their destination. Myne grinned confidently. It was an opportunity to prove herself. While everyone knew that the Witch was a dangerous foe and she was at the top of the Clans wanted list, no one had actually seen her in just as long, and she had started to fade into the realm of myths. This myth would definitely be interesting, especially as her magic power was an unknown and now mostly the product of rumours and speculation.
At twenty years of age, Myne was an exceptionally talented Rider, her gem magic strong and vibrant. Those in her presence could feel her Onyx, which in itself was unusual, as normally one could only get hints as to what a persons alignment was by the use of their magic. Once her magic had started to manifest she had been quickly picked up by the Sisters of the Radiant Dawn, the Dragon Rider Clan of the kingdom, and she had easily completed her initiation with the summoning and bonding to Vel'nas. Myne was viewed as a prodigy. She absorbed knowledge readily, and her talent with her magic, her Familiar, and in combat far exceeded that of her peers, especially as she had managed to develop by herself some unique ways of applying her powers. Hence the Lady Knights, the leaders of the Clan who collectively formed the Council of Knights, held high expectations of her, and for better or worse the expectations had also rubbed off on Myne. She was borderline arrogant, and highly confident in her abilities. Dragon Riders all fought with different weapons, and for Myne it was her fists, enhanced with her magic (something that normally only Ferals, magic users who manifested animalistic traits, did). Being magical in nature the bone armour that she wore weigh naught to her, so it didn’t impede her movement at all. Nimble and alert, she was a fluid and graceful combatant that packed quite a punch. Ironically, Vel'nas was considered to be one of the weaker species, being an Emerald Dragon, which was odd in itself as the breed of Dragon usually matched the affinity and strength of the Rider, but this was of little worry to Myne given her own strength, and the strong bond that she held with him.
Taller than many of her peers, Myne had a very attractive and athletic figure, with a full chest, shoulder length straight jet black hair, soft green eyes, and bronze toned skin. She wore a black long sleeved bodysuit made of Skeon, a skin tight material that was common amongst Riders and defensively enchanted, and over her long legs she wore a pair of black Skeon tights, the fabric accenting her sensual figure and leaving nothing to the imagination. Except when sleeping she always kept her dragon bone armour summoned, the signature attire of the Riders and a manifestation of their magic like their familiars, which was unique to each Rider. In her case the armour formed fine tightly layered plates over her shoulders, arms and upper back, hugging her body just as close as the Skeon. It also formed a pair of knee high boots with flat heels, for which she was grateful, as she didn’t consider heels as suitable for brawling even though most Riders did seem to sport them, and managed quite well in all circumstances. The bone itself was a pale black with a green tinge, a mix of both her and her familiars colours. Overall Myne had quite a dark appearance, but of course one that matched her gem affinity. Vel'nas stood twice the height of Myne, with a wingspan twice that again. Being an Emerald Dragon he was a deep sea emerald green, though his claws and spikes were jet black and his intelligent eyes a deep shade of ruby. He was now half as large again as when Myne had first summoned him, and she was sure that he was still growing. At least at the moment she could comfortably sit in front of his wings and hug his neck in flight. Familiar sizes varied a lot, and Vel’nas currently sat in the middle. Oddly enough, Dragons were also warm blooded, both Familiars and Kin, even though lizards, thought to be a close relative, were all cold blooded.
It was late afternoon by the time Myne and Vel'nas reached their destination, dust billowing around them as Vel'nas landed on the dry farmland of the closest village to the border of the Weeping Forest. Being one of the three classes of powerful magics, and natural warriors, Dragon Riders were both respected and feared, so Myne saw no need to hide her presence. In fact she wanted the Witch to know that she was here, as that would make it easier to find her. Capturing her on the other hand may not be easy, but she wasn’t going to let this chance slip away, and the higher ranker Sisters of the Clan wouldn’t be too far away. If she succeeded then she’d be able to show them up, and if she had difficulties then they would provide convenient backup for her, and she could always berate them for being so slow off the mark at getting here.
The village looked weathered and well past its prime. The bulk of the houses had panels that were warped and cracked, with a few that had been mostly stripped for materials to do the patchwork repair on the remainder. The barns were mostly filled with just shadows and the animals looked thin and pathetic, scrounging around their paddocks for what food that they could find or lounging in the shade. With a forest nearby one would have though they’d have had a lot more success at maintaining the quality of the village, but it was likely that all of the skilled labourers had been taken to the bigger cities by the Guilds and Clans to work for them, and given the recent rumours that the Weeping Woods was cursed no one would want to move here anyways. With a lack of rain in the last few months the ground was dusty and starting to crack, and what crops the farmers had managed to plant were struggling to survive. A few patches closer to the forests edge did seem to be doing a little better than the rest, and Myne thought that she could see some rudimentary irrigation by it. That, along with the presence of a water aligned shardling amongst the farmers would give them some hope of being able to get a small harvest. Shards were the most common and weakest form of magic, allowing small amounts of rudimentary control over the basic elements. To the east of the village was the remains of a mine shaft along with the skeletons of some mining huts and a refining plant, which would have been the reason the village was originally founded on such poor terrain. Running through the texts that she had read in her mind Myne summized that it was likely a Mythril mine, a valuable material used by the Guilds in the manufacture of magical tools, but the mine was long since depleted. Along with it being time consuming to extract and purify, veins of the material were also often short and exhausted after only a few years, and the miners would then leave to find a new one. Sometimes they’d be nearby, but more often the next one would be found many days travel away.
The villagers looked at Myne with a mix of awe and worry, most then turning to ignore her presence, not wanting any trouble. Their clothes were not much better than their lodgings, and she struggled to see many that were fully dressed, and those that were she had troubling classing as such. Weathered and well tanned was the most positive description that she could think of for them. Their tools were just as patchy, and many ill fit for the task at which they were being used, and to be honest she couldn’t really fathom why the village had managed to survive this long.
A frail old man, who looked to be the elder of the village, stood up from his chair under the shade of nearby building, dust falling off him that was likely put their by her landing. He started to make his way slowly and unstably over to her, cane in one hand supporting each step, but knowing she’d be waiting a while she made her way over to him instead.
“To what do we owe your presence young one?” he wheezed, catching his breath.
“I’m looking for a dangerous old lady” Myne stated. “We have sensed her presence in this area.”
The old man gave her an odd look.
“Old ladies we have a plenty” he grinned with a mouth without teeth, “but none more dangerous than a mouse.”
Myne glared at the elder, her composure put off by his cheekiness in the present of a Dragon Rider.
“You’re welcome to look around to your hearts content,” he continued. “Not that we could stop you anyway. I pray that you do not find what you are seeking here, as we do not want the trouble. We have enough of our own as you can surely tell.”
“At the least it is a change of scenery I guess” he added, waving his arm to indicate that she had the freedom to search. Not that she needed it as he had pointed out. She was a Dragon Rider and she would do as she pleased.
Myne walked back to Vel'nas, then closed her eyes, sensing the taste of the magic of the surrounding area. Something however was amiss, as as soon as she started scanning the area it felt as though was it was being covered in a thick mist that masked everything in it, damping out any magical signatures nearby. Calling upon her gem she focused more, and in the haze could sense just two sources of magic. One sent a shiver down her spine, while the second confused her. Her eyes snapped open. The Witch was definitely in the surrounding area. Humming softly to herself she sent out tendrils of magic, summoning all nearby Dragon Kin to her aid, small lizard like creatures that were a distant relation to the magical familiars of the Riders and who responded to their call. While it may indeed be cursed, the Weeping Woods would definitely be home to many of them, and she would need their aid.
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Izen was pleased with the progress of his irrigation project. The lack of rain for the last few months, while not unusual for this area now, compounded with the general lack of rain over the last few years had made the farmland around Evergreen almost unusable. The villagers had dug in anyways and managed to get a small portion of what they had planted to grow, but the harvest would be very small. If things kept going this way then in a year or two the village would be only for ghosts and sun bleached skeletons. It was the last remaining one in this area, a remnant of the Mythril rush. It had been prosperous, but once the mineral had run out the miners left, then most of the skilled villagers were taken by the Guilds and the fate of the village had been sealed. Like the Dragon Rider Clans, the Guilds of the kingdom collected into their ranks all of those who could use magic, especially those of gem grade or higher. With Dragon Riders belonging exclusively to the Clan, the magic users of the Guilds were a mix of Casters, those highly skilled in the use of raw magic, and Ferals, those whose magic was focused on their bodies and manifested in them through animalistic traits. Oddly enough the departure of the last ‘skilled worker’, the oldest daughter of the villager elder, who possessed a wind aligned shard, had been at the same time that the weather patterns had noticeably changed and many of the villagers believed that she had cursed the village on her way out. Not that it was something that they ever said to the village elder, even though he was well aware of the rumours. The other view of course was that the land itself no longer saw the village as viable. Izen was old enough that he could still remember the village when it matched its namesake of Evergreen, but it was a faint memory now, weighed down by the reality of the situation.
While quite intelligent and driven, and the backbone of what was keeping the village still surviving at the moment, Izen had not been considered to be a ‘skilled worker’ when the Guilds had done its last recruitment drive at the village three years ago, mostly because while being eighteen he had not possessed a shard at all. Even if you couldn’t use the small amount of magic that most people have, most people still had it, and when they had looked at Izen the recruiter wasn’t able to detect anything at all. So he was unusual in that way. Since he was stuck in the village, he had decided that he was going to give it his all and prove them wrong. And that he did, working harder than any of his peers, and continuing to train himself both physically and mentally with the resources at his disposal. His irrigation project was born out of that, especially as food became more scare the difficulty of his training increased. He hunted occasionally in the Weeping Woods, but what was in there was dangerous, and more often than not he came back empty handed as if he died that would be the end of it. The fields that he had managed to irrigate were giving yields thrice that of the others, and while it was less than what it had been while the town was still a mining town, it was a vast improvement on what it currently was. He currently had two fields irrigated, but it was proving difficult to get more done, especially as the rest of the villagers were overly weary of the woods. Izen often did wonder if the removal of the Mythril had been what had caused the change in the area's weather patterns, given its association with magic and the nature of the land itself, but proving that would do nothing to change the villages fortunes now. What was done is done, and he was committed to doing the best he could in the now.
Sweating in the sun, his dirty and patchy clothes loosely hanging off his semi muscular frame, Izen continued to work on digging out a new trench. His roughly cropped short chestnut brown hair glinted in the light, and his sea green eyes peered out from an almost handsome face had a look of determination. While the topsoil was in the process of drying out and flaking away in the winds, the land underneath was solid and was taking a lot of work to get through. It was getting tougher each year as the land itself was drying out all the way down. His concentration on the task at hand was broken by the sound of a strange raspy barking, and he looked up towards the forest to see what appeared to be a strange old lady in a deep green cloak and cane in hand surrounded by some strange rat like creatures as she tried to make her way towards the village. Every few steps a rat would bark oddly and then lunge at her, and through a combination stumbling, wild swings of the cane and share luck the old lady was avoiding being bitten by them. It appeared to Izen that it was only going to be a matter of time before one of them got her, so without thinking he leapt out of the trench he was digging and shovel in hand raced towards her, yelling at the creatures to scram.
Seeing his approach, the old lady slowed down a little, a grateful expression on her weathered and aged face. Even in the time it took him to get to her, the old lady, by some miracle still managed to avoid getting bitten by the rats. Pounding across the dusty terrain, Izen took a big swing with his shovel as he reached them, slamming into a rat creature and sending it flying back towards the forest edge. Swinging a kick he managed to knock another one onto its back a few feet away, but it snarled and lunged back towards him. With the appearance of the aggressive newcomer, a number of the rats moved their focus to Izen attempting to surround him while staying shy of his shovel, while he took more swings at them. The rat creatures seemed off to Izen. They were not moving and behaving like their stature would suggest, and after his initial success at taking a couple out, they seemed to have learnt and adapted.
“Keep moving towards the village,” he said to the old lady, trying to draw the rats away from her. He changed his tactic a little, feinting a swing with the shovel and a kick, before successfully following up with an uppercut with the shovel, sending another rat careening towards the trees. Building on the advantage he dropped down, bringing the shovel down heavily as well, pounding another into the ground and stopping it’s movement.
And then something changed. He sensed some movement from behind him, and turning to see what new threat there might be he was just in time to spot a rat descending down on him from above, raising his arm across his face to shield himself. The claws of the rat gouged deep into his arm, causing him to yell out as a fiery pain spread down it. Something then impacted with his head and he fell unconscious to the ground.
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Myne leapt onto Vel'nas’ back, sending clouds of dust everywhere as he rose back into the air. Rising high enough to gain clear visibility they flew north above the towns structures towards the forest edge. As they neared, Myne spotted a figure exiting the forest, surrounded by Dragon Kin, the lizard like creatures unsuccessfully lunging at her, trying to keep her pinned. Whether by luck or skill, the frail old lady seemed to be avoiding every attack, but Myne suspected the latter. Appearances were deceiving, and the Witch was a force to be reckoned with. Suddenly out of what appeared to be a shallow trench a young man leapt out, shovel in hand, racing towards the old lady.
‘What’s he doing,’ she thought to herself. ‘Does he intend to rescue her? Even commoners know not to mess with the Kin and their targets.’
The young man ran into the fray, and with a swing of his shovel sent one of the Kin careening into the trees. Myne was both impressed and annoyed. Like the Familiars, the Dragon Kin were a part of a Dragon Riders life and valued. Treat them well and they treated you well. She knew that they would be causalities fighting against the Witch, but that was a price that they were all willing to pay. Getting smacked by a shovel was a different story all together, and not anyone was capable of that feat.
The young man kicked another, but then the Kin adapted as they do, and split into two groups, trying to surround both the old lady and the young man. While the young man made some more unsuccessful attacks at the Kin, the old lady looked up at Myne, and gave her a strange smile.
“That’s her all right,” she muttered to herself, “but who is he? Never mind, this has to stop.”
As the young man altered tactics, connecting again with his shovel and sending another Kin flying, Myne jumped off Vel'nas, creating a small crater on impact, her landing softened by her magic.
“Attack him from above,” she commanded the Kin as she ran towards the young man. Obedient to a Riders instructions one of the Kin behind him launched itself into the air and plummeted down towards him. Sensing the threat, the young man spun around, raising his arm in defence, but he was too late. The Kin racked its claws down his arm, tearing deep wounds and causing him to yell out in pain. At the same time Myne reached him from his blind spot, and with a charged fist to the head impacted solidly, knocking him to the ground unconscious. She then spun around, her attention to the old lady.
“Such fury young lady” the old lady spoke in a soft voice, not at all what Myne had expected from the Witch – she has expect more of a cackle, and raised one of her arms up while stepping back. “What ill have we done you...”
“Surrender Witch,” Myne interrupted confidently. “We know who you are. Your days of scheming are over.”
“I think you’re mistaken Rider,” the old lady replied, still softly, “and you have done this young man of the village a disservice. But as his life hangs in the balance, we will go with you for now.” The old lady smiled innocently at Myne as she rested her weight on her cane, but in those soft last words she could also sense a command.
‘Capturing the Witch couldn’t be this easy’, she thought to herself. ‘Is this old lady really Lyrissa the Witch?’
“Watch her please Vel'nas,” she asked of her Familiar. “Should she even move, bite her head off,” she added, as she leant down to look at the young man. Like the rest of the villagers he clothes were barely that, and even his boots were barely holding together. His hair was roughly cut like he had tried to do it himself. He definitely was one of the villagers, even though his muscular frame was on the borderline of what should be possible with the sustenance the village would likely have available. His fighting technique was odd too, and she was actually impressed by what he had managed, though the Kin that he had hit weren’t so happy with him. ‘He’s a good head shorter than me,’ Myne though as she leaned down to have a look at his right arm which was now a shredded mess, his blood pooling on the ground. She ripped his shirt off him with ease, and used it to bandage his arm. It wasn’t really suitable, but it was the only option she had until some more Riders arrived. Being an Onyx, she didn’t possess any healing aptitude, but some of the others had a little, and one Rider at the temple, Sister Cammine, was a specialized healer. She looked back up at the old lady, who just smiled sweetly at her.
“Others will be here shortly,” Myne stated to the old lady, glaring at her and feeling unsettled. She did feel a bit bad about the young man, and hoped he would survive this. But something was off and she couldn’t put her finger on it. It would be an uncomfortable weight.