in California
April 30th, 2006
Prologue
The moon hung in the purple night sky—an orb of soft silver light casting its glow over the landscape. A cool breeze swept through the tall grass and the silent, sleeping village at the edge of the fields. Men crept noiselessly towards the little town, deadly, shining spears in their hands. They moved towards the village, and as they entered it, were careful not to make a single sound so as to keep the villagers from waking.
The men had to spread out across the entire village, and only then could they let their presence be known. If they weren’t completely ready when villagers woke, they could eventually drive the men out of and away from the town. Then the men would not get what they had come for.
Once the men were all in position, one man sent a signal to his nearest comrade, who passed it on, until every man was ready. “Now!” yelled the leader. The voice seemed loud as a clap of thunder in the dead silence of the night. At once the spears of all the men somehow lit on fire, but did not harm the wielders.
The men let out cries of war and began to burn down doors with their flaming spears, crashing through walls and tearing apart houses, searching for what they were trying to get. Soon the entire village was ablaze with yellow flames, illuminating the shadowy night. The screams of villagers could be heard as they were pushed roughly aside by the attacking men, and then, if they would not move, their lives were brought to a sudden, burning end by the lethal, flaming points of the spears.
No villager that stayed was spared. The only ones who lived were the ones who fled, leaving behind all but the clothes on their backs and children if they had any. The men viciously tore through the village until the whole thing was burned to the ground, and they found a crumpled, crusty, yellow piece of parchment. One man picked it up and held it up high in the air.
“I have it! Let’s move!” The rest of the men immediately stopped tearing through the burnt remains of the houses and gathered round to look at the paper. The flames on their spears immediately died.
The leader of the group pushed through the throng of men and took the piece of paper. “Time to leave.” The leader’s body did not show. It was covered in golden-red armor. At his side hung a red staff with two pointed ends. The only thing of him you could see were his golden eyes, burning like two globs of fire stuck into the dark interior of his helmet.
The eyes suddenly grew brighter, and he sent a message using thoughts. A few minutes later, dragons appeared over the horizon; there was one for each man. The biggest of them all was the one the leader mounted. The rest of the dragons were black, but the leader’s was bloodred. The identically colored rising sun reflected off the armor of the leader and bright, menacing scales of the red dragon, and for a moment it seemed that the whole area was alight with fire. Then all the dragons took off, and flew away until they were just black specks and one fiery red dot in the distance.
The sun rose to reveal what remained of the destroyed village. No living soul stood on the charred ground. The fire was out by now, but smoke still clogged the sky.
The men had gotten what they had wanted. The thing they had come for.
The map they had come for.
*Feedback pls*
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