Overmorrow

Chapter One: Mountain of the Dead

Vounó ton Nekrón. Mountain of the dead. I find it to be a rather lovely place during the summer season. But only if you ignore the dead bodies and the smell of rotting corpses. My legion migrated here after a landslide victory in the northern hills. We lost at least half of our unit to those pathetic gravel sniffers.

Ever since we moved here, my favorite pastime has been flying over the aged battlefields and imagining whose blood was spilt over the rocks for the most meaningless reasons. This morning in particular, I guided Vasuki to a set of cliffs where, in my mind, men fought with men over a cheap bottle of wine. I spent the next couple of minutes laughing to myself as I dreamt up a somewhat elaborate story to go along with it.

Vasuki. A fourteen ton apex predator with razor-blade teeth and a taste for blood. A drákon. Or, as some call it, a dragon. With a thick coat of steel-colored, metallic scales, she stands at a staggering 11 feet tall, with a wingspan of twice her body size. She has come to be recognized as quite the intimidating creature. Unlike silly beliefs that all dragons are hatched in magma and dwell in volcanoes, Vasuki was born in these very mountains. Not that she particularly cares about her return.

Her shadow-like wings are the only things left without an impenetrable coat of armor as she sails easily in line with the breeze. Her red, slitted eyes drifting around carefully for incoming danger as smoke trails lightly from her nose.

Coming across a particularly flat clearing in the bumpy landscape, we eased into a brief landing next to a stream for some water. I slipped gently off the leather saddle as I carefully avoided the rigid spikes along her spine and tail, patting her nose gratefully as I stretched. Looking up at the sun centered in the middle of the sky, I knew I should probably head back to camp. As I longingly watched a rabbit bound off into the woods, I begrudgingly climbed back on and Vasuki took off.

My day had been fairly decent. I had caught a deer in the morning, which offered a more appetizing taste then stale bread. The weather had been kind, keeping a gentle breeze and a light chill. It was a completely and perfectly fine day, right until I landed back at camp to find freshly dead bodies and the entire thing set ablaze. I breathed deeply, mistake. The smoke made me go into a coughing fit and the smell of burning flesh made me gag. I suppose I should sort through the detached limbs of my old teammates to try and find survivors. A tedious and gruesome task.

Reaching down, I grabbed the black mask around my neck and covered my mouth and nose with it. Quickly, I started scrounging around for signs of life. Nothing. Of course it's nothing. I shouldn't have even expected a survivor. Squinting my eyes, I made my way back to Vasuki. Vasuki who stood unfazed by the carnage, settling for flicking her snake tongue in the air, as if tasting the death that surrounded her. Stupid, overgrown lizard.

Her eyes snapped to mine, as if she could sense my insult. A hiss of smoke left her nostrils as she challenged me with her gaze. Rolling my eyes at her bratty behavior, I shoved her head away and adjusted myself on the saddle. Grabbing the massive horns that protruded out of the sides of her head, I expertly avoided the spikes that decorated her snout and face.

As we launched ourselves into the clouds, I could faintly hear yelling below us. Survivor? Looking down I could barely see the streak of black as a massive arrow lodged itself into Vasuki's right wing. Letting out a shriek of surprise and pain, she quickly started beating her wings in an attempt to regain composure and maintain our distance from the ground. Shit.

I desperately tried aiming the fast-descending reptile to the cover of the trees, hoping the dense woods may allow us to make a fleeting escape from our attackers. Standing unsteadily on her back, my hands clamped down on the saddle as my knees bent slightly. The thicket of branches and leaves were alarmingly close now. Shaking off my nerves, I jumped as high as I could when a branch came in sight. Landing painfully on my ribcage, I tried to regain my breath while holding onto the tree. When I was finally able to breathe properly again, I began crawling my way down the trunk as quickly as my bruised body would allow.

Once I touched the ground, it wasn't hard to find Vasuki. I just followed the trail of fallen trees and shredded grass. She was breathing heavily, her eyes moving around wildly until she spotted me and desperately tried to stand.

I ran my hands along her neck soothingly, waiting for her to calm herself. Making my way to her injured wing, I quickly grabbed the shaft of the arrow and tore it out, wincing guiltily at her cry of pain. My fingers glided across her scales as I tried to offer her some comfort. In retrospect, the wound wasn't that bad. It would be fully healed in at least 2 weeks time. Sadly, counting the fact that we were currently being hunted; the wound was very, very bad, and was definitely a good reason for panic. But to add to the list of reasons I want to smash my head in with a stone, we didn't really have time to panic. Sighing loudly, I contemplate the chances that we'll survive this. Mm... bad idea.

I was broken out of my inner stupor at Vasuki's feral snarl. She was glaring at a bush rather heatedly as she let out loud growls. This is not good. This is very bad, actually. I quickly darted in front of her as I took out my throwing knives. I absolutely refuse to die by someone hiding in a bush. That is disgraceful. In less than a second I had 2 razor-sharp blades sailing. And BOY did that cause a reaction. 

"What the hell, man?"  A feminine voice screeched, "Don't throw your unbridled aggression at me! More specifically, don't throw your knives at me. I came over here to see what that sound was. But NO, I get your stupid little doohickeys hurled at me instead."

"Who are you and what do you want?" I remained unmoving with a cold face as I stared down the bush. Great, I'm glaring at bushes now. What has my life come to?  Gripping my knives tightly in my hands, I was ready to throw them again.

"Okay then Miss Proper. No need for a full on interrogation, I promise I was just coming to see what the sound was. I'm Kyran."

All of a sudden a pale, round-faced girl with choppy blonde hair and bright green eyes jumped out of the bushes. She was a head or two shorter than me with a small, lithe figure. I would almost believe she was just petite in frame if not for the obviously lean muscles that ran across her legs and torso. She had a small nose that was decorated with faint freckles, and a slight blush that adorned her cheeks, presumably from the adrenaline of having a knife flying at her face.

Her hair was a sandy color, and was short and uneven, looking as if someone had tried to cut it with their eyes closed. Her tattered clothes had specks of dried blood and dirt on them, making her look somewhat unkempt. She wore what looked to be dark brown, tightly fitted britches with a black tunic and a hunter green cover that was strapped securely to her stomach by a thick black belt. Her outfit was completed by a pair of raven-colored lace up boots that went just below the knee. She was pretty for a bush, I suppose. In her right hand was a thin, brown bow with intricate carvings, as her back adorned a quiver full of silver arrows. I made sure to pay special attention to the coiled metal whip that lay threateningly at her side, decorated with sharp spikes; and the small sheath that rested on her left thigh, obviously holding a hunting knife inside. 

I was brought out of my analytical stare as the girl, whom I'm presuming is Kyran, ran past me towards Vasuki. That is so unbelievably, indescribably not okay.

"Woah, is that a drákon?"

"You have three seconds."

"Three seconds?" I curled my lips into an unintentional sneer as I glared at her. This bitch is so dead, I seethed.

"Yes. You have three seconds to get the hell away from my drákon before my knife is embedded into your fucking skull."