Clash of Captains

Chapter 1

The smell of sulfur and charcoal filled Aneira's nostrils with a burning sensation as she stepped over a fallen soldier and stared across the ruined battlefield that surrounded her. The heat emanating from the still-warm dirt produced a sizzling sensation that caused the young woman to sneak a worried glance at her leather boots, only relaxing once she saw that the soles hadn't taken any damage.

The young woman swept a long lock of her blonde hair behind her ear; it had escaped her thick braid at some point in the midst of the fight and was now hanging irritatingly in her face. She grimaced as her hand came away with a crimson tint. She must have gotten nicked by one of the enemy soldiers' blades in the fray. There was no pain associated with the red liquid, but Aneira knew it was only a short amount of time before she began to feel the effects of blood loss. She'd have to bandage up the wound once she returned to the stronghold that evening.

Her boots crunched the charcoal below as she stalked cautiously forward, grey eyes scanning the horizon for signs of life. Before the battle that had taken place, this field had been home to a few large pine trees. It had been completely leveled; not a single of the trees had remained unscathed. Aneira ran a hand thoughtfully over one of the remaining trunks. It was blackened from dragon fire. For a moment she felt a wave of guilt that threatened to drown her, but she took a deep, calming breath and was soon able to continue without her emotions getting in the way.

The captain stepped onto a small knoll in the center of the battlefield. Her deep green cape billowed out behind her in the slight northwesterly breeze, the silver of her shoulder plates gleaming in the low light of evening. The stars were just beginning to poke out of the darkening sky above. As Aneira glanced around at the fallen soldiers and mounts around her, she felt a swell of grim pride take hold. She had managed to lead another successful battle for Ledah. Duke Cadogan would be proud of her. She could barely contain her excitement at the thought of pleasing the man whom she had looked up to her whole life.

Aneira heard the creak of armor from somewhere to her left. She immediately flinched and set a hand on the pommel of her silver-edged sword. Her grey eyes flickered across the field and its motionless inhabitants in search of the source of the sound. Had it come from one of her own soldiers, or had one of Dreg's warriors somehow survived? Her grip tightened on her sword, partially unsheathing the blade from its leather scabbard at her side. Her knuckles turned white, a pale and ghostly color befitting of the horrors that had taken place only minutes before.

At last she laid eyes on the source of the noise: a figure at the edge of the fray wearing the bright red and gold of a Dregian soldier. The soldier let out a low groan, rolling onto their side to clutch at a wound. Aneira, suddenly overcome with a wave of nausea, gritted her teeth and stepped carefully closer. The soldier didn't seem to notice her approach, emitting a pitiful moan of pain. Their eyes darted this way and that underneath their lids; their skin shone with a thin sheen of sweat. Aneira barely caught a glance of the wound in their abdomen before unsheathing her sword and bringing it down in one quick slash. The weapon whistled through the air in a clean cut. The soldier fell silent, and Aneira backed away. She may have been a soldier — and a captain at that — but she was not cruel enough to allow a soldier on either side of the battlefield to suffer needlessly.

The young woman shut her eyes, mentally shoving the image of the soldier's pained face from her mind. She knew it would find her in her dreams later, if she somehow managed to fall asleep. Aneira forced her eyes open, clearing the blockage of emotion from her throat, and walked on. The surviving soldiers from her own troops had already retreated back to the stronghold per her orders, leaving her to do the final checks and ensure that they hadn't left anything behind. Aneira hesitated over the body of one of the Dregian warriors, staring curiously at the soldier's face. She was a young woman no older than herself, perhaps a couple of years younger. Half of her face had been mutilated by the flames of a dragon, while the other half remained eerily untouched. Aneira brushed a strand of the soldier's black hair out of her face, mouthing a silent apology, before straightening up and continuing on. Claer had promised to wait for her at the edge of the field; it wouldn't be smart to leave her waiting for too long.

Aneira stiffened as she heard the beat of footsteps behind her. She whirled around with hands clenched into fists, a curse ready to fly from her mouth. Before she could utter more than the beginning of a question, the young woman was tackled to the ground. A lump of something — hopefully just a rock and not something more gruesome — caused her back to let out a twinge of protest as she landed with a rush of breath. She shut her eyes, internally wishing for her attacker to back away, to give her a chance, to not take her out like this. Then a puff of warm air washed across her face, and she hesitantly blinked her eyes open.

Two brilliant golden eyes stared her down, thin pupils sizing her up across a long, slender snout. The dragon let out a rumble of displeasure and took a step back, releasing the weight from Aneira's chest. The large reptile's forest green scales, rough as if made of bark and lichen, rippled as the dragon stretched her shoulders and gave an impatient roll of her eyes. Aneira rolled her own in response, letting out a low chuckle as she got to her feet.

"Enough playing around, Claer," she chided in as commanding of a voice as she could muster, giving the dragon a scratch behind her long, twisted horns. Claer let out another rumble, momentarily satisfied by the attention. Then the beast flicked her ears and folded her wings in, ducking down to allow Aneira to hoist herself up onto her back. The young woman's feet slipped into the makeshift leather of the saddle grips on either side of the dragon's abdomen as she slid into a position between two of the thin cream-colored spikes that lined Claer's narrow back. As she settled into a position that was somewhat comfortable, the dragon took a few loping strides before launching them into the air. For a moment they stalled in midair before Claer's wings flared out to catch them, giving a couple of weighted beats to get them airborne.

They gained altitude quickly and Claer leveled out as they broke through the clouds. Aneira let out a soft sigh, feeling some of the tension leave her body and mind as the sights of the battlefield disappeared below them and a cover of clouds blocked her view of the carnage. The sky changed steadily from a deep blue to a darker shade of indigo; the stars glowed brighter as their contrast against the dark sky became greater. Aneira half wished she and Claer could fly into the depths of the stars and never return. But the captain had duties to return to, and so the pair reluctantly made their way back to the Ledian stronghold as the day turned to night around them.