Furious Wyverns

Long and difficult was the path to Blackwater; the wheels of the caravan dug deep ruts into the dusty road. Their initial mistrust of me gradually melted away, the mercenaries started to open up and relate stories of past conflicts and drunken adventures. I listened closely, my thoughts compiling every detail and every subtlety of their characters.

The grizzled warrior Borin turned out to be a tough but devoted guy. His tough guy appearance belied a quick wit and an unusual love of puzzles. Though she said nothing, Anya, the quick archer, missed nothing with her sharp eyes. And Ogun, the gigantic brute, was a happy giant with a shockingly kind heart. Everyone with eyes could clearly see this was a closely bonded group. The name of the behemoth kind of kept playing in my head. It brought back the name of an African war god. The name was even pronounced precisely the same manner. Though I doubt he would have been amused and I am sure he would not have understood the reference, I nearly yelled out in excitement when I heard the name. Considering this as a different realm and everything.

I couldn't get rid of the sensation as we drove that invisible eyes tracked our every action. That was quite strange. Being a blood mage appeared to make me far more sensitive to possible threats. At least it seemed to be the case when I failed to observe any indicators of discomfort from the others either. Though subdued, the murmurs of the dead stayed in the back of my mind, a continual reminder of the gloom I carried inside. Most of the sounds I continued to hear came from the criminals I had slain on that fateful night when I got apprehended by Emberheart's men. It seemed to me to be just the previous night. The voices lacked clarity and seemed to be speaking not exact words. The voices simply made me feel threatened and warned me to keep my eyes open. If only theoretically, my very own danger sense. Spidy should be jealous.

Tension thickened the air one afternoon as the caravan laboured across a small mountain pass. The mercenaries tightened their weapons while the horses whined anxiously, their nostrils blazing. Something must have spooked them. Maybe the very things that were making me feel restless too.

"Wyverns," Borin snarled, his gaze strayed skyward. "Damnable creatures. Constantly searching for a quick and easy meal. I don't know about you, but I don't have any intention of falling here."

Heart thumping in my chest, I followed his stare. Three winged creatures, their keen talons and razor-sharp beaks a terrifying sight, circled above, their scales shining in the sunlight.

The caravan master said, "Everyone, take cover!" his voice tinged with panic.

The mercenaries moved quickly to create a shielding circle around the wagons. Anya nocked an arrow with firm aim, and Borin hefted his axe, his muscles rippling.

Still, the wyverns moved too quickly. Their screams resounding across the mountains, they swooped down. With strong talons cutting through flesh and bone, one of the creatures seized a horse from its reins. With its blood splattering the sandy ground, the horse wailed.

Panic started as the stores sought cover. I realised I had to act, defend the caravan, show Emberheart my value.

My body defying gravity, I shot into the air with a blast of blood magic. The wyverns whirled, astonishment widening their eyes. I met their look, my own eyes blazing with fresh confidence.

"You selected the wrong caravan to attack," I yelled, my voice resounding across the mountains. Time to earn my keep. 

I let a river of blood magic flow from me, the red energy dancing deathfully in the air. Trying to avoid my blows, the wyverns screamed, their wings hammering fiercely. Still, I was unrelenting, my magic a tornado of damage.

I imagined blades of blood cutting across flesh and scales. I called forth a tempest of red energy, its force hurling the wyverns spiralling down towards the ground.

The struggle raged, a collision of magic and raw wrath. Their claws and beaks ripping at my skin, the wyverns battled back. But I drove on adrenaline and a fierce impulse to guard the caravan.

I released the whole power of my blood magic with a last, victorious yell. Their bodies full of wounds, the wyverns fell to the ground and their contact caused shakes over the mountain pass. Their fall brought me warn fuzzy feelings. Who wouldn't want to battle dragons, even if its just lesser dragons. Things were not looking too bad though.

Silence fell, only occasionally disturbed by the survivors' strained gasps. Emerging from their hiding spots, the traders had wide-ranging admiration and thanks. Grudging respect replaced early mistrust, and the mercenaries nodded in satisfaction.

"Well fought, blood Mage," Borin replied, his voice rough but filled with acceptance. "You helped save our hides."

I shrugged, still feeling my heart hammer in my chest. "It was my duty," I answered, my voice as measured as can be. I couldn't appear pompous or anything like that.

Still, inwardly I experienced a wave of gratification. I had proved my value to myself as much as to Emberheart. Still all part of the plan.

The rest of the trip went without incident; the traders and mercenaries laughed around the campfire every night. Their friendship drew me in, their acceptance something I very much needed.

By the time we arrived at Blackwater, the wyvern attack and our presence had already gone viral. Cheers and acclaim welcomed us from the townspeople, their thanks pouring forth. I relished their respect, the warmth of their appreciation a sharp contrast to the frigid indifference of Emberheart's fortitude.

The mercenaries delighted everyone they came across with stories of the blood Mage who had spared them from certain death as we returned to Emberheart's keep. Once murmured in mistrust and mockery, my name now inspired wonder and respect.

The fresh attention, the sense of power and influence it gave, really delighted me. Benevolent on the surface, but, a feeling of anxiety persisted. Kael Emberheart had not greeted me with wide arms back-off. His compliments were measured, his eyes frigid and looking calculative. What was going on in his head?

I realised that my accomplishment had brought only his reluctant regard, not his trust. Still a pawn in his game, I was a weapon he could use to attack his rivals. And I felt as though he hadn't yet tested me.

Come to think of it, I never questioned how he knew my name. Shadowsong, the Eyes of the Serpent, and even Kael knew my name. Why am I a known person? Even if its just a select few that know it. It is still weird. It looks like I have to play it cool for now. I'm not in a position to force answers... yet.

I couldn't get rid of the impression that I was entering a trap as we rode inside the fortification; the lowering sun created long shadows across the courtyard. Once mute, the whispers of the dead started to stir, their voices a chorus of warning.

I was the blood mage, Ash Blackwood. And I was about to meet the next difficulty in this lethal game of survival and dominance. You know, like any good player. For my continued sanity, I am going to continue to look at this as a game. What choice do I have?

It briefly occurred to me that I could try running away. But no, I won't. I am right where I need to be.